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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
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Grown Up Girls (family)
by Some Sort of Dog
WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of
age who have no objection to reading about young women's
breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of
fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of
the events described in this story actually took place,
to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are
described as taking place between adults and minors. No
young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you
get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you
find it.
None of the characters in this story is real. Their
names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are
fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or
dead, is unintentional.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have
appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's
Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before
elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United
States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young
mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers
as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again
in the next episode of the same saga, four years later.
(She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form
at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were
clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the
story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't
yet any more to tell. Well, we lied. Authors, living as
they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often.
Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years
later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older
sister.
GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog
Part I
Chapter 1: Remember Me?
You might not remember me, but you will almost certainly
remember Tanya. She's unforgettable! Even though she's
four years younger than me, she's been my BIG little
sister since she was ten. We're a lot older now. I moved
out of our parents' house to live with my boyfriend,
Paul, and our three little kids. They grow up so fast,
you only have to turn around and, whoosh, they're off to
school.
How old are they now? I have to stop and work it out.
Victoria's ten now, quite the little lady, and the same
age that Tanya was when I first told you her story.
Pansy's eight. Those of you who had a chance to read
about our formative years will perhaps be interested to
hear that there is a family resemblance!
And what about Tanya's little daughter, Suzanne? She's
three months younger than Pansy, but if you saw her
walking down the road you'd think she was older than
Victoria! It's something in our genes, we know now. Ever
since Mum showed us girls some old photograph albums, we
realised that our huge busts, and those of our daughters,
'run in the family'!
Not that our Mum, although a well-developed woman, is
anywhere near as big as us. But she thinks *she* is the
one who must be some kind of a throwback, or freak, as
*her* mother - our grandmother - also had a gigantic pair
of tits! Mum was quite pleased not to have grown as big
as that, she said, although she wouldn't have minded
having a few more inches, just every now and again!
We had never seen our Grandma Trudy, who was apparently
born in America. Of course that made her a distant,
romantic figure to us girls. We'd never even met a real
live American, yet here was this glamorous woman in the
photographs, and she was our very own grandmother!
We all laughed, the way you do, looking at those family
photographs. Amazing how fashions change. There were
some photos of our grandparents when they were first
married. Grandma Trudy was a lovely young woman; slim,
yet with an enormous bust which seemed to stick out miles
in front of her. And I'm sure it wasn't just because of
those strange bras they used to wear in the nineteen-
fifties!
Further on in the album, there were more photos of her.
The ones that really intrigued us were those that showed
our Mum as a young girl with her twin sister. In one,
taken when she was eleven, her tits looked bigger than
they are now! Not as big as Tanya's had been at that age,
but of course, not many women's breasts are - not at any
age!
Mum explained to us that it was her tits that finally got
her into trouble when she was fifteen. Boys used to run
around after her, trying to sneak a feel of her lush,
bouncy boobs. That's when she wasn't running around after
the boys! It was only a matter of time before she started
to explore the forbidden world of sex.
It was a forbidden world, certainly, but not an unknown
one. Grandma Trudy had sternly warned her twin daughters
about men, and the things they sometimes did to young
girls, especially well-developed ones. But Mum took all
those dire warnings literally, being a young girl. The
warnings were about *men*, not boys, and when Mum became
pregnant, it was at the hands (if that's the right
expression) of a sixteen-year-old boy called Vaughan
something who was obsessed with her large fifteen-year-
old titties.
And that, as Mum said, was that. Her father had shown her
the door. He had brought shame and humiliation on the
entire Pym family. She had gone with a no-good no-hoper
of a boy, with no prospects and no education, and not
even the common sense to use a contraceptive. Well, she
had made her bed, and now she could lie in it. Four
months pregnant, she was thrown out of the family home to
make her own way in the world with Vaughan. Never, she
had been told, darken this door again. Grandad Pym was an
English gentleman, Mum said, and he was obviously not
averse to using the odd cliche here and there.
As if that hadn't been bad enough, Mum's twin sister,
Frances, went off the rails as well. I think that was
grandfather's expression, not mine. She married a man who
wasn't worthy of her. In fact, they got on quite well
until a few years ago, but by the time *their* twin
daughters had reached the age of thirteen, the
relationship was creaking under the strain of coping with
two big-busted teenagers flouncing about the house. Even
sending the girls away to an expensive boarding school
couldn't save the marriage.
Vaughan, our Dad, had turned out to be pure gold. The
couple had found a place to live, Vaughan got himself a
job, and I was born. By the time Tanya arrived, we had
moved to a bigger house with a garden, we had a three-
year-old (almost) luxury car and Dad had a job which
brought us every simple comfort we could wish for.
Mum had almost everything she wished for, but not a
father. Ever since he had thrown her out, Roger Pym had
never mentioned his daughter's name again. Then he
followed that up by throwing out Frances as well, and he
never mentioned hers either! Mum and Grandma Trudy wrote
to each other from time to time, but letters could be no
substitute for the lost love of a parent. As Mum said,
Grandma Trudy had told her it was only her husband's
stubbornness and pig-headed English pride that prevented
a reconciliation.
One of the end results of this was that we had never seen
Grandma Trudy, nor were we likely to, so long as Roger
Pym - now *Sir* Roger, apparently, after a lifetime of
service to his country in some obscure department of the
Foreign Office - allowed his own precious public image to
come before his own flesh and blood.
The other result, Mum told us, was that she had a younger
sister she'd never seen. After she and Frances had been
cut off, Grandma Trudy had had another daughter. Maybe it
had been a small sign of Roger Pym's remorse that
although he remained stiff and unbending about allowing
his daughters back into the family, he had made some
amends by fathering another child. Another daughter. Amy
was the same age as Tanya.
The Pyms had more or less retired now, and were living in
the depths of the countryside somewhere in Herefordshire.
So, for the sake of those readers who are only interested
(and probably disbelieving) in the big breasts in the
family, it's just the way we are. There's absolutely
nothing *wrong* with us, nor with our busty girls, but
you should try explaining that to the people who stare at
us when we take our kids out to the shops or to school.
People can be so horribly cruel. I get rude remarks aimed
at me. As if it was my fault that the girls are the way
they are. Tanya says she finds the same thing. She's a
bit more forthright than me when it comes to dealing with
the snide comments and the stares and the pointing
fingers, and worst of all, the jeering laughter in the
street. Quite a few of these ignorant or thoughtless
people have found themselves on the receiving end of some
pretty blunt advice from my sister.
This ridiculous behaviour makes me more than glad that my
third baby was a boy. Daniel is four, now. I won't be
having any more children, but you can tell, Tanya would
like another. A boy, she says. With all the hassle she's
had, both herself and now with young Suzanne, you can
hardly blame her.
What about me? I was flat as a board until I was
thirteen. I almost had the worst of both worlds, having
been the object of scorn for having no tits, then only a
few months later, the object of derision for having such
big ones! I wouldn't wish that on anybody.
Tanya's breasts had made their first appearance when she
was eight. My Victoria was very similar, and so was
little Pansy. Talk about early developers!
And Suzanne? *Her* little titties had arrived before she
was even SIX. I couldn't believe it when Tanya showed me
them one evening in the bath. I had dropped by to visit
my parents, and Tanya asked me to come upstairs and chat
while Suzanne was bathing. She had something to show me,
she said. At that time, my little Victoria, two and a
half years older, had barely started developing, but her
young cousin's nipples were puffy little mounds, and the
swellings on her chest already covered an area as big as
saucers and almost as deep. I stared at them, fascinated,
as Tanya soaped the child's growing boobies, and wondered
how long it would be before Suzanne was as big as her
vast-breasted mother.
Tanya, who was then nineteen, had an eighty-eight inch
bust! She had grown steadily for the whole of her teenage
years. She says she's about ninety inches now so she's
probably just about as big as she's going to get. It
sounds strange, three or four inches either way on a
normal woman's bust would make rather a lot of
difference. It's not such a big deal when your bust
measurement is approaching seven and a half feet!
And what about mine? My bust is at the moment a 'mere'
fifty-eight inches. It gets bigger when I over-eat, like
at Christmas, but my normal size is never more than
sixty! Mother told me that's about how big Grandma Trudy
had been when she'd met Mr Pym, my grandfather.
That memorable bath-night with Suzanne was only two and a
bit years ago. Since then, my own two girls have both
grown steadily, and Victoria's titties would not look at
all out of place in one of those men's specialist
magazines that cater for the connoisseur of big breasts.
Pansy's figure, equally, could easily grace the pages of
an 'ordinary' men's magazine. And what about Suzanne?
Well, those swellings I first saw in the bath when
Suzanne was still not even six years old, have since
matured into a pair of breasts which any fully-grown
woman might be proud of. Certainly bigger than
Victoria's. Where is it all going to end?
Chapter 2:- Grandma Trudy
Thinking back again to that bathnight of Suzanne's, I can
still feeling the fluttery sensation I had in my stomach
and pussy when I first saw Suzanne's development. It was
similar to the feeling I had when Tanya's breasts were
beginning to really grow. I remembered how I stole her
bra one night, and stuffed the cups with water-filled
balloons. And she caught me strutting round my bedroom in
her new clothes. I was mortified at the time, but from
then on, Tanya and I developed a very special
relationship, which has become stronger as we have grown
older.
Tanya said she looked at my face while she was rinsing
the soap off little Suzanne's puffy breasts, and she knew
what I was feeling. I'm sure she knew how wet I was, too.
Those days of borrowing Tanya's bras and playing nasty
games with her panties are long gone, although we still
have a shame-faced laugh about them from time to time. It
would take a pair of heavy-duty weather balloons to fill
my sister's bra cups now!
After that first sight of Suzanne's little boobies, I
took every opportunity to see Tanya and her daughter, and
I was not disappointed by the child's development. She
had her first bra when she was six and a half! You can't
walk into a shop holding a six-year-old by the hand and
say to the assistant, 'my little girl needs a bra'. Well,
you *could*, but they just don't make them that size. So
Tanya took her straight to the woman who makes all our
bras, Mrs Cooper, and showed Suzanne to her. Mrs Cooper
wasn't easily shocked, having known our family for the
best part of ten years, but she was quite prepared to
made an exception in little Suzanne's case. Shocked? That
wasn't the word for it!
Well, when she recovered, Mrs Cooper had to admit that
Suzanne certainly needed support. Her breasts were
already heavy enough to droop slightly under their own
weight. But she said there was no point in making a bra
for her; knowing our family's history, it would be too
small in a month or two. So she fished out a B-cup, one
with the smallest body-band she could find, and put it
around Suzanne's chest, then took a few measurements. She
ended up taking six inches out of the back and sides of
the bra. The cups were snug, but not too tight. Suzanne
was over the moon! A real woman's bra, at only six.
Mrs Cooper was right about Suzanne needing a new bra in a
couple of months. Just as Tanya had done, the girl
developed steadily. She took her to the doctor, the same
one who had taken such a close interest in Tanya's
development. It nearly put a permanent end to his career
when the two of them walked into his surgery! (We heard
later he'd had to go into hospital with a heart problem.
I think he's a bit better now.) When they called again
two weeks later, the new doctor was a young woman, whose
eyes nearly popped out when she saw Tanya for the first
time, and the tiny, slim seven-year-old girl with what
was by then probably a C-cup bust!
The child's breasts continued to grow, and became heavier
and heavier. They certainly kept Mrs Cooper busy! She
stopped modifying existing bras, and made her a new
custom-built one every two months; each time a tiny bit
bigger in the body, and quite a lot bigger in the cups.
The shoulder straps became wider. There were more hooks.
A kid can't grow up looking like that without attracting
attention at school. Victoria and Pansy were the victims
of catcalls and jeers from their classmates. Victoria,
fortunately, was big enough to take care of herself, and
Pansy as well. After receiving summary punishment from
Victoria, most of the kids learned their lesson, and
confined their remarks to those occasions when they were
well out of range of Victoria's dangerous right hook.
(I'm sorry if that qualifies as gratuitous violence, but
girls will be girls.)
Suzanne, though, wasn't so lucky. Living with our Mum and
Dad, she went to a different school from my two. And the
hassle she got was far worse. Tanya said most days she
came home from school in tears after another barrage of
cruel and foul-mouthed abuse, in school, and on the bus
home. She could have been perfectly happy with her body;
her own mother had probably some of the biggest breasts
in existence, and *she* was happy with hers! Suzanne
simply couldn't understand how other girls and boys could
be so ignorant.
Things came to a head, eventually. One day, Tanya phoned
me in tears.
It was so unlike her. She's the strong one in our family.
"Suzanne says she doesn't want to go to that nasty school
any more! I don't know what to do. I can't keep her at
home."
"Why not send her to the one over here, my two are all
right there. At least, they are now Victoria's sorted
them out!"
"It's ten miles, Sis. There's no bus at the right time,
no school bus, it's impossible." Tanya can't drive, for
obvious reasons. I can, having found a car with enough
room for my tits behind the wheel (or rather, below it),
but it's not comfortable for long distances. "I wish she
was old enough for St Cat's. The twins were happy there,
and they were pretty big."
"If I remember, there were some other big girls at St
Cat's, too, weren't there. At the same time as the
twins?"
Tanya laughed, remembering. "That's right. A whole bunch
of them. I met them when they were making a film for some
holiday project. They thought it was a bug they all
picked up there. Imagine, a titty-bug! It never was
explained, as far as I know. Still, this doesn't solve
the problem of Suzanne."
"How about a private tutor, for a couple of years? St
Cat's might take her after that if she was up to scratch
with her school work, she'd be ten, near enough."
"Money, sis! It's all I can do to keep the kid in bras,
let alone having a private tutor in. Great idea, though!
Maybe when we win the lottery ..."
It was Grandma Trudy who changed everything. Although she
didn't know it at the time.
I called in on Mum and Dad and Tanya one afternoon after
school. I had my three kids with me and they all went out
into the garden to play with Suzanne. They were playing
some game involving a bat and ball and ludicrously
complex rules that had to be explained every two or three
minutes. It kept them happy. Mum and Dad were watching
them, trying to make sense of the rules, but failing
absolutely.
Tanya was indoors, draped across an armchair and talking
on the phone; wearing a skimpy top and tiny shorts, she
looked almost unimagineable. All bare brown legs and
arms and long hair and acres of cleavage! She grinned up
at me and waved her fingers, setting several yards of
breast in motion. It was like that tortoiseshell
butterfly that flaps his wings in Buckinghamshire and
sets off a typhoon in the Pacific. I still couldn't
really believe the way my sister looked, even when I was
standing there looking right at her. After a while, she
put the phone down with a husky 'Baaiieeee!', and said,
"Hi, Sis!"
"Hi, big sister!" The phone rang again immediately.
Mum hurried in, "Give us a bit of peace! It hasn't
stopped ringing all day. Get it Tan, darling."
A moment later, Tanya tossed the phone over to Mum. "For
you, this time. Some woman!"
We carried on our conversation while Mum started asking
all sorts of questions into the phone. "Who? What?
Mother? MOTHER!"
We stopped and listened. Mum's mother? Grandma Trudy? The
phone conversation went on and on, and though we strained
to hear, we only got one side of it. But whatever it was
about, Mum was getting more and more excited. Finally,
she signalled frantically for a pen, then wrote a number
down, before signing off in a flurry of kisses and
goodbyes. We stared at her, eager for the news.
"My mother! Calling from Herefordshire," as if that were
on the other side of the Universe. For all I knew, it
might have been. "She wants to see us all!"
"See us all?" why did we have to sound like a Greek
chorus?
Mum explained it all. Grandad Pym was going to be out of
the country for a month. Something to do with his old
job, Grandma Trudy had said. He had retired, officially,
but he had received a top-secret call:, something about a
crisis in the Balkans. (That was a pretty well-kept top
secret, I thought, Grandma's just told us all about it).
Anyway, Grandma Trudy was going to be on the lonely side
for a whole month. She apparently had Amy, her younger
daughter, the first time we kids had ever heard of *her*,
but she had a job in the town and lived away from home.
The domestic staff could look after Grandma's needs, but
it wasn't the same as having her husband about the house.
Why not give her long-lost daughter a call, she thought,
it would be the ideal opportunity for a reconciliation,
and she would be able to see her grandchildren. Wouldn't
she?
Well, wouldn't she?
"When is it? I asked Mum. "The school summer holidays
start in three weeks. We could all go down together, if
it wasn't too much trouble for her."
"Two weeks' time. Surely, you could get permission for
the kids to get off school a week early. It's a very
special occasion, when all's said and done. It could
almost be a once in a lifetime opportunity."
Tanya was certainly all for it. Anything which took
Suzanne away from her torment for an extra week would be
more than welcome, as far as she was concerned.
"I'll speak to the head teacher tomorrow," I said.
Whatever she says, I'll get them off school. As you say,
it's once in a lifetime."
And so Mum called Grandma Trudy the next day, and said
she could certainly pay her a visit, and would it be all
right if her two daughters and her four grandchildren
came as well? Silly question, really!
Dad couldn't make it, (perhaps he still wasn't sure how
he would be received by Grandma Trudy, even after all
this time) but he said we could use his car as long as I
left him mine. And on a Saturday morning two weeks later,
we all piled into Dad's Renault Espace and set off to the
West. It was a lovely day, the early mist just burning
off in the warm July sun. The kids asked 'are we nearly
there yet' after the first three miles, and amused
themselves trying to say 'red Renault, yellow Renault'
and counting the number of legs in the names of the pubs
we passed.
It was just as well we did have a large vehicle. When we
stopped for a fuel and comfort stop, we almost caused a
terrible accident as we locked the car and set off toward
the ladies' toilet. Three women with a combined bust
measurement of something like sixteen feet, accompanied
by a little boy and three unusually busty little girls
caught the attention of a disbelieving delivery van
driver who collided with the back of a parked car. As we
drove away up the road, a small fight had just broken
out.
"Why are those men fighting, Mummy," asked Suzanne. "Are
we nearly there, yet?"
"Is that her?" whispered Victoria.
"I don't think so, darling," I said, "I think that must
be the housekeeper." A large woman in a flowery print
dress had just come out of the front door as we turned
into the drive. The house was huge, the biggest the
children had ever seen, close up.
"It's a *palace*," said Pansy, in hushed tones. "Is Nana
Trudy a queen?"
"Sort of, yes!" I told her. "But not a real queen, not
like the Queen."
"She can't be the Queen, she's American," said Victoria,
sternly. "Americans can't be Queens. They can only be
Presidents. An *they're* all men."
"Strange," mused Pansy, who wasn't really listening. She
was trying to count the windows. "Forty-six," she said at
last, without much conviction. Suzanne, meanwhile, was
picking her nose and doing something disgusting with the
proceeds. I thought you ought to know that.
"There she is," said Mum, with a bit of a choking noise
in her throat. "That's her!" She opened the window and
called out to the woman who had come around the side of
the house carrying a wicker basket and a garden rake.
"Mother? Mother! MOM!"
Grandma Trudy turned, and saw the car, and her face lit
up in a huge smile. "May! May, honey! She called. The
kids nudged each other and giggled. Grandma Trudy really
*was* an American!
She dropped the basket and the rake, and set off across
the neatly-trimmed grass towards us. Mum slowly got out
and stood beside the car door for a moment as Grandma
Trudy approached, then ran to meet her. They looked, both
slowly shaking their heads as if not quite believing it,
then they walked straight into each other's arms, and
stood there, hugging silently for a long, long time.
Finally, they separated, and linked arms, and walked
slowly back to the car. Grandma Trudy! I'd have
recognised her from the photo albums, she'd hardly
changed at all. Well, she must have done, those pictures
were taken twenty-odd years ago, but she was still the
same woman. Tanya was gazing at her. She was fascinated
to see from where she'd inherited her special attributes!
The girls, too, were certainly impressed by Grandma
Trudy's magnificent bosom! After all, they already knew a
whole lot about being big girls.
And if the girls were impressed, so was Grandma Trudy!
She looked at Mum, slim but large-breasted, then at me,
then at Tanya, unable to believe her eyes. And as
Victoria and Pansy and Suzanne were introduced and shyly
shook hands, she couldn't believe them either! She
seemed relieved to be able to say hello to Daniel, at
least he didn't have big tits!
"How old did you say these kids were?" she asked in
disbelief as we set off for the house, Pansy and Suzanne
holding Grandma's hands, the others clinging to us but
not taking their eyes off their fascinating grandmother
for a second. We all went round the side of the house,
where Grandma Trudy had been working on the flower-beds.
The French windows stood open, and there was a heavy oak
table and chairs on the flag-stoned patio. The house-
keeper appeared as if by magic.
"Maisie! This is my long-lost family, my daughter and my
grown-up grand-children, and even my grown-up great-
grand-children!" Grandma Trudy spread her arms to
encompass the whole brood. "Do you think you could rustle
up some lemonade for this lot. We'll sit and enjoy it out
here."
Maisie looked as if she'd never seen so many such grown-
up people in her life. Her eyes were almost out of their
sockets as she stared at me and Tanya, then at the girls.
"Yes, maam!" she muttered, and hurried off, looking back
as if she expected us all to disappear. We didn't.
"Now, then!" Grandma Trudy settled back in a chair, the
two younger girls attaching themselves to her, one on
each side. "We've got an awful lot to tell each other.
Where should we start?"
The rest of the morning flew by. We had lunch, served by
Maisie and an extraordinary young girl called Clarrie,
who could easily have been mistaken for part of our
family! "She's from the village, Roger employed her about
ten seconds after she came up for an interview! She's
sixteen, going on thirty-five, you know what these
village girls are like!" (I didn't, but from Grandma
Trudy's tone it was clear their lives were one long round
of eating, sleeping and sex.)
By afternoon, the sun was blazing down on the patio.
Grandma Trudy suggested cooling off. "Who wants to go
swimming?" she suggested, and the kids went wild.
"We haven't any swimsuits with us," Mum reminded us all.
Grandma Trudy laughed.
"It's pretty private round here. I don't think it would
offend anyone too much if we skinny-dipped. But I bet we
could find a costume or two about the house if you're
feeling bashful." And she called Maisie.
Half an hour later, we were all ready to take to the
water. Maisie had a stretchy one-piece swimsuit that more
or less fitted Mum. The maid, Clarrie, had supplied a
bikini, which I could just about squeeze myself into,
although it might be a different matter keeping it on.
The top was overflowing and I had to keep pulling the
bottoms back up every three minutes. Tanya had no hope at
all of finding anything to fit her, so she dug out one of
her sleeveless tops and a pair of panties. Grandma Trudy
looked staggering in her custom-made bikini! The girls,
especially Victoria, were shy at first, until they got
used to the idea, then they stripped off to just their
panties. They looked incredible with their big breasts
bouncing around!
The pool was as big as our whole garden at Mum's and
Dad's place. The kids leapt in and ploughed up and down,
squealing and splashing. In one corner of the pool was
some kind of water circulating device, pumping the water
out, filtering it and pumping it back in again. It made a
sort of jet that squirted upwards under the water. Tanya
discovered it first. I noticed her floating in the corner
of the pool with a dreamy expression on her face. After a
while, she splashed across to me and said, "try that
corner over there, it's amazing!" I did, and it was!
Eventually, Grandma Trudy shouted to us to come away from
that jet, you couple of horny grand-daughters, and we
felt as if we'd been caught jacking-off. We paddled over
to the other side of the pool and Grandma Trudy laughed
at us. "That's young Clarrie's favourite spot, that
corner," she said quietly so the children couldn't hear
her. "It used to be mine, too, but I could be getting
kind of old for that sort of thing now!"
At last, one by one, we crawled out of the water and lay
in the sun, drying off. We made sure the children put
their tops on and told them to sit in the shade, but in
no time they were frolicking round on the grass, playing
their favourite ball game. We watched them. It was
exhausting. Suddenly, we heard a car scrunching on the
gravel drive, then footsteps came round the side of the
house. Grandma Trudy looked up. "May," she said to Mum,
"It's time you met your little sister, Amy!"
Chapter 3:- Amy
Mum had jumped to her feet. She was staring at the sister
she had never seen. Until she'd had the phone call from
Grandma Trudy, she had never even mentioned Amy to us
girls. Perhaps she thought it would be kinder to us not
to acknowledge her sister's existence at all, rather than
have her flitting around in the background like a ghost
we knew was there but never came right out and actually
haunted us.
Amy was staring at Mum. She had heard about her older
twin sisters, but the version she got was always heavily
edited, an authorised version which would satisfy her
father. Secretly, Grandma Trudy had told Amy, a little at
a time, how she would love to see her elder daughters
just once more, before she died, and Amy tried to imagine
what her sisters were like. She failed completely, of
course! All she really knew about our Mum was that she
had got herself pregnant by the village layabout when she
was only fifteen!
The two women approached each other cautiously, then
stopped, still three yards apart. Grandma Trudy carried
on: "These are May's daughters ..." and she introduced me
and Tanya to her, then she pointed out the children, who
were now engrossed in some sort of litigation over who
was the next one in to bat.
But I haven't described Amy, have I? I always have to be
reminded to describe people. I look at them, and I take
in what I see, and I assume everyone I'm telling the
story to can see them as well ...! Well, the family
feature was there, all right! And I suppose that's what
my dedicated readers wanted to hear. Amy was a little
taller than me. Excuse me, she was Mum's sister, so I
ought really to compare her in appearance to Mum, but she
was so close to us sisters in age that I automatically
thought of her as one of us, our generation, as it were.
So, taller than me, not by a lot, about five-five.
Slimmer than me, too, in fact, very slim indeed compared
to Tanya, who has always been quite a lot chunkier even
after she lost the puppy fat in her very early teens. Her
hair was dark, Tanya's colour. Her bust ...
No, I'm getting ahead of myself. She was dressed for
work, in a skirt and blouse. The blouse was white and
loose-fitting, not tucked in at the waist, so it hung
straight down from her breasts. I suppose she did that to
disguise them, or at least, to try to. We'd all tried,
and failed, at one time or another.
Disguise didn't work for Amy any better than it had for
us. And as she looked at me, then across at Tanya, she
seemed to feel the wave of sympathy flowing amongst the
three of us, all similar in age and in development, and
she smiled at the same time as me, and Tanya grinned at
us both and bounced up off the patio where she was
sprawled. Once Tanya was standing up and Amy could see
her figure, she gasped. For the first time in her life
she saw a girl with a bigger bust than she herself had,
although it was a close thing. I got up, too, and went
over to Amy, and she sized me up, too.
"Hello," she said. "Looks like we've got a lot in
common!"
I'd heard of some uses for big breasts, but this was the
first time I'd heard of them being used to break the ice!
We all got on like a house on fire after the first few
minutes. Amy lived in the town, and worked in a large
office, insurance or something, where she said she met a
lot of men, but she wasn't seeing anyone. From the way
she said that, it felt as if she'd *never* seen anyone.
Men were scared of her, she told us as the three of us
sat on the patio in the evening sunlight, idly watching
the kids playing on the back lawn.
"How old are the children?" she asked. "I know you
probably told me, but there was so much going on I can't
have taken it in."
"My three are ten, eight and four," I told her.
"Suzanne's eight," said Tanya.
"But wait a minute, which one's Suzanne?"
"The one with the biggest tits!" laughed Tanya, "in the
yellow top."
"You know," said Amy, shaking her head, "that's what I
thought you said earlier, but I thought it would be rude
to ask you again." She watched the children for a few
more minutes. "Gosh, they're all very advanced, but
Suzanne's really something else, isn't she?" she shook
her head in disbelief as Suzanne started jumping up and
down on the spot, stopping after a few seconds, holding
her breasts still with both hands.
Grandma Trudy had quietly appeared from the house, with
our Mum by her side. "We were just looking at some family
photographs in the album," she said, there are some of me
when I was their age ..." she looked out at the children,
her eyes misty. "I looked just like that. God, I had a
fifty-six inch bust on my eleventh birthday, and it was
up to sixty-three long before I was twelve!"
Tanya shook her head slowly. "Did you just keep on
getting bigger after that, Grandma?" The word 'Grandma'
sounded funny after all this time.
Grandma Trudy's face clouded over. "That's a time I'd
rather not talk about, honey, even after so many years!
For a long time, I remembered nothing, but later, with
Tim, that's my brother, I pieced together the story. It
was not ... not pleasant at all. All I can say is that I
went down to less than 80 pounds, what's that, I never
could work it out, less than six stone, and I was flat as
an ironing board for years!
We looked at her now, trying to imagine her weighing six
stone and flat as a board. Nope! I couldn't manage it,
and nor could Tanya, by the look on her face.
"But I put it all back on, and sheesh, it sure changed my
life!" The kids saw her, and came running over, their big
titties bouncing like great rubber balls. "You look after
those kids, you hear!" she whispered to us, and there
were tears in her eyes as she gathered them all to her
bosom.
Chapter 4:- Climbing The Walls
Meanwhile, inside the house, people were climbing the
walls.
To be precise, two people were climbing the walls. One
was the maid, Clarrie. The buxom teenager was deeply
frustrated. The batteries on her new vibrator had died.
Already! Mr Pym had only given her the thing just before
he went away. Two days ago. Surely, batteries ought to
last longer than that. Mind you, Clarrie had given the
toy some pretty intensive use since Sir Roger had gone
away, but even so, they shouldn't have gone flat in *two
days*!
She sobbed in frustration and lay back on her bed, her
legs spread and her black skirt up round her waist. Why
did the Master have to leave her like this? There ought
to be a law against it. Cruelty to serving wenches.
Frantically, she brought herself to a fairly
unsatisfactory climax, then lay panting. Tomorrow, she
would take the vibrator down to the newsagents in the
village and have Mr Patel fit some new batteries. She'd
ask for the ones that always lasted longer on the TV
commercials.
Meanwhile, there was a whole evening and a whole night to
get through. Clarrie had forgotten what it felt like to
be without a man for as long as two days. Sir Roger had
kept her well serviced ever since he had first employed
her. In fact, even at the interview, he had given her
such a seeing-to that her knees hadn't stopped trembling
for the rest of the day. Since then, whenever she felt
like it, which was most of the time, Sir Roger had been
only too ready to oblige.
She smiled at the recollection of how she had applied for
the vacancy in the first place. There hadn't even *been*
a vacancy, come to think of it! She had mentioned to her
friend, Barry Overdown, that she was leaving school, and
was looking for a job. Barry was the captain of the
village cricket club, and knew just about everyone. "Give
Sir Roger a try, up at the house. Place that size, he'll
always need a bit of help. 'Sides, they reckon he likes
his girls on the large side, if you know what I mean!"
Clarrie knew what Barry meant. Since she had awarded her
virginity to the cricket club when she was fourteen, she
had made the acquaintance of quite a lot of men who liked
their girls on the large side. She had done her very best
to please them. People still talked about Clarrie's
inaugural night behind the cricket pavilion, when she had
taken on all comers, single-handed. Somebody had even
kept the score with the big white numbers hanging on the
scoreboard. By the time her father came looking for her
at midnight, young Clarrie had exhausted nine fit men and
three enthusiastic teenage boys. The rest of the playing
members had been dragged away home by their wives.
So, on Barry's suggestion, she had put her best clothes
on, squeezed herself into a bra that was six months past
its best, unfastened the top three buttons of her blouse
and knocked on the door of the big house. Maisie had
opened the door to her, and gaped in horror at the sight
of the village bicycle standing on the front step with
her tits practically bursting out of her bodice. Maisie
had her finger raised ready to indicate the way home to
the girl, when Sir Roger came out of one of the
downstairs rooms and caught a glimpse of a pair of
enormous young titties.
"Who's this, Maisie?" he had asked, raising an eyebrow as
he came to the doorway and took in the full picture of
Clarrie.
"Her name's Clarrie, Sir Roger, from the village ..." She
had been about to detail Clarrie's recent spectacular
history, that this was the girl who had single-handedly
cut a swathe through the pride of Herefordshire's young
manhood, when Sir Roger boomed, "Show the girl in,
Maisie, into my study, please!"
>From then on, the sex lives of the young men of the
village and its environs could return to something like
normal. Clarrie was heartily serviced right there on the
top of Sir Roger's leather-topped desk, and she started
her duties at the house the next morning. Her mother
proudly told everyone who would listen that her big
daughter was now 'in service' up at Sir Roger's. And
'service' summed up Clarrie's duties more adequately than
her mother ever imagined.
But now, for the first time, Clarrie was without her
master for more than a few hours. She ran her still
slippery fingers up and down the slit of her richly-
furred pussy, giving an involuntary twitch as they
reached the top. She shuddered, and slipped her fingers
inside again. Ten minutes later, she was as horny as
ever. A whole month of this? It was only two days and she
was climbing the walls in frustration!
Then, from a couple of rooms away along the landing, she
heard the most enormous crash. She sat bolt upright on
the bed, then thought she had better investigate.
Clarrie had been climbing the walls in frustration. So
was young Davie, but he was climbing them literally.
Until he fell off the chest of drawers.
Davie was Maisie's only child. He was grounded for a
week. He hadn't *meant* to let down the tyres on the
policeman's bicycle. It was Ben Shakespeare's fault.
Everything was always Ben's fault. Ben had bet him he
couldn't nick half a dozen apples, one for each of the
gang, from the display at the front of the greengrocers's
shop on the main street.
There had been no problem until Ben had hissed, 'look
out, it's old Growler', and given Davie a shove that sent
apples, grapefruit, cabbages and this season's almost-
ripe nectarines rolling all over the footpath and into
the gutter. The boys had scattered, but Davie had been
last to get away and had to take shelter behind a dustbin
down a side alley. Sergeant Growler had dismounted from
his bike with ponderous grace, and proceeded into the
shop to question why the shopkeeper's display was rolling
down the village street, causing h'an obstruction to the
'ighway.
Davie peered out from his hiding place, and saw Ben's
face looking round a corner on the far side of the road.
He was pointing at something, and signalling frantically.
After a couple of minutes of miming, he gathered that Ben
was suggesting that it might be a good idea if Davie let
old Growler's tyres down. The next thing he knew, there
was a heavy hand on his collar.
"In the old days, so they tell me, I could've clipped him
round the h'ear and 'ear no more about it," Sergeant
Growler had told Maisie, at the police station. "But that
would be assault, nowadays. So have I got to charge him,
and fill in sixteen pages of paperwork, or are you going
to take the bugger home and ground him for a week?"
"Leave him to me, Dan," Maisie said, "I'll sort him out!"
She would, thought Dan Growler. He quite fancied Maisie,
tasty bit of widow, she was. And young Davie was all
right, just needed straightening out. Needed a Dad, poor
little sod. He'd let him go, as soon as he had pumped up
both tyres, using a hand-pump.
This was the third day of Davie's imprisonment. "You'll
stay in your room until I say you can come out," his
mother told him. "You can't leave the house and gardens
anyway for a week, but today you're staying in your
bedroom. The lady's daughter and her family are arriving,
and I'll be too busy to have you around creating
mischief."
Davie had been lying on his bed. The devil, as ever,
found work for idle hands. He heard footsteps coming up
the back stairs, and Clarrie's bedroom door closed. He
had become aware recently of Clarrie, who he now realised
was easily the most beautiful woman in the whole wide
world. She was decidedly plump and extremely pretty, and
had such huge boobies, he reflected, as he lay there,
feeling a warm, comforting throbbing building up inside
his boxer shorts.
A faint buzzing noise carried to his ears as he fondled
himself. What was she doing. Shaving? Did women shave?
Clarrie never seemed to have any traces of a beard or
moustache. The buzzing stopped. In fact, it sort of died
away. "Ooooh, Clarrie," he said to himself, trying out
the sound of the word. He liked it and tried again, and
found his erection becoming more throbby. He took himself
in hand.
What was that? Girls' voices? Coming from outside. It
must be the lady's grandchildren. Sounded like a bunch of
kids running around. That's all he wanted, a house full
of bloody *girls*! And him grounded, so he couldn't even
get away from them. Oh, shit. The disappointing thought
had caused his erection to get floppy. That's what girls
did for you.
Davie rolled off the bed and stood up. The kids were in
the pool now, he could hear them squealing and splashing
around down there. He went to the window. The servants'
quarters were on the top floor, and the rooms on this
side of the house had dormer windows let into the slope
of the roof. By looking out of his window, he had a
partial view of the pool, cut off by the edge of the
roof. Idly, he looked across that way. What was THAT!!!
He had caught a brief glimpse of a woman, or a girl, with
no top on. Usually, women wore swimsuits or bikinis to
go swimming. This, Davie accepted, was only right and
proper. He had tried, several times, to imagine Clarrie
without a bikini top, but failed. Therefore, he
concluded, women *ought* to wear something to cover up
their boobies. It seemed logical to him.
Now, down there, a woman was frolicking around in and out
of the pool. And, if his eyes weren't playing tricks,
she wasn't wearing a bra. He strained to see more, but
couldn't. The chest of drawers beneath the window was in
the way. He clambered on top of it, and found he could
just see a bit more of the pool. There was the woman
again, if he squashed his face against the glass, he
could just see her back, and she wasn't wearing a top.
Definitely!
His hand strayed to his shorts again, where there were
welcome signs of life. Oooh, that feels nice, he thought,
taking a warm handful of himself. There she is again,
turning round. That's not a woman, that's only a girl!
But shit, she's big! Then she moved out of sight again.
Davie tugged at the window. It was an old-fashioned sash
window that slid upwards to open. But it had been painted
over years ago, and didn't open any more. Not easily,
anyway. Frustration lent Davie extra strength. The window
moved a fraction, he heaved again, and the woman or girl
appeared once more. No, it wasn't the same one, this was
a smaller girl.
Oh, shit, no, not a little girl; he thought, then
realised that *this* little girl wasn't all that little.
Her tits were even bigger than the other one! One more
heave, and the window would be open, and he would get his
head outside. That was when he fell off the chest of
drawers in a flurry of odds and ends, books, video
cassettes, souvenirs and the alarm clock. He hit the
floor, still accelerating.
"Ouch! Me fuckin' ankle!"
He lay there, winded and damaged, checking himself for
broken bits.
His erection was still working, he was relieved to
discover.
"Davie, you all right?"
A voice from outside his bedroom door. Clarrie?
"Yes, thanks. I think so, anyway. I fell over."
Clarrie tried the handle and the door opened. Davie was
lying in a heap by the window. She looked around the
room, the same shape as hers, but a boy's room, full of
boy things. And, if she wasn't mistaken, full of boy! She
hesitated, then went closer, bending over him.
He was a big boy for fourteen, she thought, her eyes
taking in the well-defined shoulders revealed by his
cutaway undervest, and a distinctly promising bulge in
his shorts.
"You sure you're okay, Davie?" she said softly, in the
voice that had seduced an entire cricket club in a single
night. It was overkill as far as Davie was concerned. His
erection sprang to full attention, and found its way out
into the open air through the front of his shorts.
"My ankle hurts," he said, "can you help me get up?"
He hasn't even noticed his willie's sticking out, thought
Clarrie. And by the look of him, he doesn't need any help
to get up. "Here, hold my arm. Steady!" He was so strong!
He'd nearly pulled her down on top of him.
Davie couldn't believe what was happening. Clarrie was so
close, he could touch her. In fact, she'd told him to
hold her arm. He did, and she nearly overbalanced. Must
be difficult balancing with those bloody great things on
your chest, he thought, realising that they were even
bigger at close quarters. Very close! His head would get
lost between those things. He could smell her, and it was
nice. No, not nice, that wasn't the word. The English
teacher was right; 'nice' wasn't the word to use here. He
wished he could think of some more words to describe the
smell of Clarrie. Whatever, the smell was doing things to
his ... ooops! How did that get out there?
Clarrie could even smell her own arousal. She had come
straight to Davie's room without putting her panties on;
and now that she was squatting down, with her short skirt
riding up, her moist pussy-odour was distinctly
noticeable. It even excited her, especially the
realisation that Davie could smell it, too, and it was
affecting him.
"C'mon, let's get you on the bed, then I'll have a good
look at your ankle," she murmured. And an even better
look at a few other things, she thought. "I've done first
aid," she said. It's a pity he doesn't need mouth-to-
mouth resuscitation.
This time, they made it. Davie stood up, his weight on
Clarrie's arm, and he half-hopped to his bed, then sat on
the edge of it. Clarrie sat beside him.
"There, that's better, isn't it?" she purred.
It certainly was.
She ran a hand around his back and felt the firm muscles
ripple beneath her fingers as they flirted with the broad
elastic top of his shorts. She brought her hand back the
other way, slipping it into the top of the cleavage
between the taut cheeks of his boyish bottom. He clutched
at his cock, which tried to escape.
"Leave that alone," she said, sternly. "Anyone would
think you'd never sat next to a girl before. Or a woman!"
Suddenly, she whipped her hand up behind his back,
tugging his undervest with it, and carried on strongly to
pull it up and over his head. Davie was too shocked to
resist. "Got to check for any broken bones," Clarrie
whispered, placing her mouth very close to his ear as
soon as his head emerged from the vest. Very close
indeed. He could feel her hot breath in his earhole.
"Now. Let me look at you, Dav-eee. Lie back!"
Feeling powerless, Davie slowly lowered his back on to
the cool bedclothes. His feet came off the floor and his
knees automatically drew themselves up to protect his
genitalia. Clarrie laughed musically and gently pushed
them down again. Now he was bent backwards across the
bed, helpless as a sheep on its back. He felt Clarrie's
soft touch on his thighs, rubbing gently up and down the
insides of his legs. Then her hands were gone, and when
they came back, they were round his waist, ever so gently
easing down his shorts. He resisted for half a second,
then raised his hips just enough to let the shorts slide
down. There was a brief delay as they snagged on some
obstruction, then they came free.
"Good boy! That's the way. You're getting the idea!
Bloody Hell!"
The last bit was Clarrie's reaction to Davie's now
completely-unveiled cock, waving in the air above his
belly. Impatiently, she ripped the shorts down to his
ankles then abandoned them, leaving him to kick them off
altogether. The boy was hung!
Although Clarrie knew perfectly well that it didn't
matter how big it was - after all, the cricket club had
provided her with the full range from five inches up to
nearly nine - it was pleasant to find a nice big one to
play with while Sir Roger was away. And if she wasn't
mistaken, this one was even bigger than Sir Roger's!
She was kneeling beside Davie on the bed, now, and all
she had to do was lower her head and open her mouth. He
slipped inside her, and as she adjusted the angle of her
head, they both felt him make contact with the back of
her throat. She slurped on him, her saliva cool yet hot,
her head bobbing gently up and down, her long hair
brushing his thighs and stomach.
Davie lay there, unable to move in case she bit it off
and swallowed it. Clarrie was still fully dressed, which
he found enormously exciting. Raising his head, he could
see the girl's monster boobies in the big black bra he
had seen in the airing cupboard, the whole lot hanging
heavily downward inside her maid's white blouse. Closer
to him, her flared skirt was riding up over her thighs
and hips. Surprisingly, and excitingly, she wasn't
wearing any knickers. He thought all girls wore knickers.
Maybe Clarrie had forgotten to put hers on.
He reached out a hand and placed it on the cool, soft
flesh of her upper leg. Delight! It felt like an oven-
ready turkey. She wriggled closer to him, still sucking
deeply on his cock, then stepped over his body with one
leg without so much as missing a beat. This girl was fit,
he thought. Now, he didn't need to raise his head to
improve the view. Just lying back, he had a grandstand
seat of the finest sight in the world.
Inches above his face, Clarrie's hairy bottom rose and
fell. Every time it came closest to his face, he received
another whiff of that incredibly sexy smell. But this was
a girl's *bottom*! Surely, he shouldn't be feeling like
this. He thought about it for a while, and realised he
certainly did. Quickly, he reached up with both hands and
gripped Clarrie's broad, plump hips, heaving her down
until her steaming loins slopped all over his mouth and
nose. Faintly, he heard the girl give out a long, low
moan.
Still not fully believing what he was doing, he put his
tongue out and found something unbelievably tasty to eat.
Clarrie wriggled her wide rump from side to side as she
settled further down on Davie's face. Was she trying to
suffocate him? In a flash of panic, he realised, if the
girl wanted to, she could bite his willie off and
suffocate him to death all in one go. She was heavy
enough, he'd never get away.
So, realising there was nothing he could do about it, he
lay there as this wonderful big girl fucked him with her
mouth. It was coming, the feeling. Oh, shit. He was going
to do it. It would go in Clarrie's mouth. He tried to
shout a warning, but with his face where it was, no sound
came out, only a wet, bubbly vibration which seemed to
send Clarrie into a frenzy. Clarrie needed no warning,
anyway! She knew what was coming, all right.
Although, when it came, the quantity surprised her
somewhat. She swallowed most of it, but lots more
dribbled out between her lips. Meanwhile, down in the
engine-room, Davie received a faceful of something
scalding hot and wet. He hoped it wasn't what he thought
it was. It wasn't.
Clarrie had turned herself round, her breasts now
squashed massively against Davie's chest as their mouths
met. Davie's first real woman kiss tasted totally unlike
anything he had been led to expect. His own salty semen,
still drooling out of Clarrie's mouth, mingled with the
girl's own fishy juices as she probed his mouth with her
hot little tongue.
She raised her body up, her long hair still brushing his
nipples.
"Oh, fucking hell, Davie, I've got to make the tea.
Salmon sandwiches, Maisie says!" She rolled off him and
stood by the bed, smoothing her skirt down over her
thighs and fluffing her hair into some sort of shape.
"How do I look?" she asked, the way women always do.
Davie reached out for her, but she laughed happily and
dodged backwards toward the door.
"You watch that ankle, right? I'll come back afterwards
and make sure you're comfortable! I promise! See ya
later!"
<end 1/4>
From: acotto@gate.net (Anthony Cotto)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Grown-up Girls, Part 2 (big breasts, yng teen)
Date: 4 Dec 1995 16:59:26 -0500
Message-ID: <49vqvu$1f8g@navajo.gate.net>
THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!!
I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to
remain anonymous.
Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the
author.
GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog
WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of
age who have no objection to reading about young women's
breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of
fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of
the events described in this story actually took place,
to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are
described as taking place between adults and minors. No
young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you
get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you
find it.
None of the characters in this story is real. Their
names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are
fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or
dead, is unintentional.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have
appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's
Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before
elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United
States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young
mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers
as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again
in the next episode of the same saga, four years later.
(She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form
at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were
clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the
story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't
yet any more to tell. Well, we lied. Authors, living as
they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often.
Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years
later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older
sister.
GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog
Part II
Chapter 5:- Trudy's Tale
The girls had drifted off and gone back in the pool. We
persuaded Amy to come for a swim as well, and in no time
we were all shrieking and splashing around in the cool
water. Amy still couldn't take in the sight of the
youngsters, with their outrageous development. She kept
staring at them, and eventually she came and sat next to
me on the edge of the pool, dangling our toes in the
water.
"It's funny, you know," she said, "I shouldn't feel this
way, but those kids with their big titties makes me feel
all gooey inside! Don't get me wrong, you being their
mother and all, but you know what I mean?"
"I know exactly what you mean. They look like little
women, yet they're just kids. Coming down here this
morning, they were asking every five minutes, 'are we
nearly there, yet?' And they have to put up with a lot of
shit from the other girls at school. Especially young
Suzanne."
"I can imagine," Amy said. "I was nothing like the size
of them at their age, yet the other girls made my life
misery when these things started to grow. Trouble was, I
know they were jealous, yet I hated my tits so much, I
couldn't see why the others *should* be jealous, you
know? They were welcome to them, if they wanted them!"
"It's doing them good, anyway, getting off school early.
Look at them, I haven't seen them so relaxed and happy
for months."
They had all leapt out of the pool and streamed off
across the garden in a weaving line at top speed. It all
went quiet as they ran off into the distance. From the
house, there was the sound of a distant crash.
"What was that?" I said.
"Don't know, Maisie must have dropped the dinner in the
kitchen."
Clarrie was in trouble.
Maisie came into the kitchen to see how the teenager was
progressing with the sandwiches for teatime. She found
the girl had hardly started, she had only just started
buttering the bread.
"Have you taken the salmon out of the fridge, Clarrie?"
Maisie asked.
"Not yet, I'm still doing the butter."
"Funny, I thought I could smell it! Wait a minute, girl!
That's *you*! What have you been up to? Even when Sir
Roger's away, you still manage to stink of sex!"
Clarrie blushed and stammered, but Maisie stepped closer
and whisked the girl's skirt up.
"You filthy slut! No panties again. And juice running
down your fat legs! I suppose you've been playing with
that bloody vibrator of your again. Get out! Have a
shower and get your big whore's arsehole back down here
in ten minutes! Move!"
Clarrie fled, sobbing, her huge tits bouncing as she
scampered out of the kitchen and up the back stairs to
the servants' bathroom.
At least, when she presented herself to Maisie fifteen
minutes later, she was a little fresher, although her
bottom was still much the same size as before.
"Show me!" Maisie insisted.
Clarrie pulled up the hem of her skirt to reveal
relatively clean white panties.
"Right, get on with those sandwiches. A right good
spanking's what you deserve, girl."
Clarrie smiled to herself. That was the nicest thing
Maisie had said to her all day.
"Tanya, honey, come and sit next to your Grandma." Tanya
grinned at Grandma Trudy and sat beside her at the table.
I perched on the bench on her other side. Our children
gathered round. "Help yourselves, now, don't stand around
letting these sandwiches get cold. Salmon and cucumber?
Here you are, Suzanne, can't you reach?" Suzanne was
struggling to reach across the table, her breasts were
dangerously close to destroying a most impressive cream
cake. Grandma Trudy took the girl's plate and loaded it
up with food. "That enough? You're a growing girl, you
know!"
Suzanne knew. We all knew.
The kids tucked in with a vengeance, clearing all the
sandwiches in record time, and making massive inroads
into the cakes.
"They seem to have quite an appetite, must be all this
fresh air and exercise," said Tanya, shaking her head as
Suzanne wolfed an enormous hunk of cream cake. There was
chocolate smeared all over her face and a dollop of cream
had fallen into her cleavage. Pansy reached across and
scooped it out.
"That's mine," squealed the aggrieved girl, and made a
grab for the cream. Too late, it was already disappearing
into Pansy's mouth. Suzanne stuffed the last of her cake
into her mouth and went in search of more.
"You'll burst, child!" Tanya wailed in despair. "You must
think we never feed them at home, Gran."
"I was beginning to wonder, honey. Never mind, they'll
get enough activity in the next few weeks. They'll burn
it all up."
As the children finally drifted away from the table,
still squabbling good-naturedly; Tanya sat forward,
resting her mountainous bust on the table with a little
sigh. Grandma Trudy watched her with a smile. "That's
right, Tanya, take the weight off your back. I know just
how it feels, carrying that lot around. You're a lot
bigger than me, now, but when I was just a kid, like I
told you, mine were pretty huge."
"Maybe you can explain to the kids, sometime, Gran. Show
them your old photos, perhaps," suggested Tanya. "They'd
appreciate knowing that they're not just freaks."
"Freaks, hey? Is that what they're calling them? Well,
isn't it true? I was a freak, sure. So are you two,
Tanya especially. But it's just Mother Nature having her
bit of fun. There's nothing wrong with us, and nothing
wrong with Suzanne, either. But I will; tomorrow, I'll
have a word with them."
We sat in silence for a while. Mum and Amy were strolling
in the distance, beyond the pool. The children had
started their ball game again. Grandma Trudy took a deep
breath. "You know, earlier, when I said I didn't want to
talk about ... when I was a kid? I think I ought to tell
you. It's hurtful to tell it, but you ought to know."
"Gran, not if it's painful. Not now. Later, perhaps," I
tried to tell her.
"It had better be now, while I'm in the mood! Listen!"
She put her arms out as if to embrace the two of us.
"I was six, when my titties started to grow. How about
you?"
"Gosh, I was nearly nine," said Tanya.
"Thirteen!" I laughed.
"How about the kids?"
"Suzanne was the earliest, she wasn't even six when hers
started coming," I said, and Grandma Trudy shook her head
in disbelief.
"Like I say, I was six. And they just ballooned, you
know? Eight, nine years old, and they were a C cup. Then
when I started the fourth grade, you know what that is?"
We both nodded, not wanting to interrupt her, and she
continued. "The day I started in the fourth grade, I was
a forty-four! That was August, September. By Christmas, I
was up to forty-seven inches."
She laughed. "And I was still growing. At least, by then,
I was ten years old! And they just got bigger and bigger.
But you know, I remembered nothing of this. My brother,
Tim, told me everything, and gradually it all came back.
Everything. How when I got to my eleventh birthday, our
mother measured me, and I was fifty-six inches round the
bust!"
"I can laugh at it now, but I was so huge, I could hardly
walk, never mind run around. I had to have my bras hand-
made. It meant a bus-ride to see the bra-lady. Every time
I got too big for my bra, and that was pretty often, I
can tell you. But then I went to the doctor, and he sent
me away to another doctor, in Chicago, and they looked at
me, and they said there's nothing wrong. 'Perfectly
normal, Mrs Morris', they told Mom! Oh, yeah?"
"That's what they said to me, too," said Tanya, "when *I*
was eleven."
"They told me to go home and wait till I was nineteen,
then they could make them smaller. Well, no way could we
wait that long. Mom told them I'd need a wheelbarrow for
them long before that! Anyways, I had to stop going to
school because of the rude comments from the other kids.
And the teachers, too, they were just as bad. Well, we
lived on a farm, and once I got away from that school, I
worked on the farm, and I did my schooling at home. Of
course, these things kept right on growing. I don't know
how big they ended up; we only had a five-foot tape at
home! I know that I had to be measured for a new blouse,
it was before I was twelve, during the summer, and I was
sixty-three inches then! But they didn't stop growing."
Tanya's mouth was open as she gazed at Grandma Trudy. I
realised, at last, she had found another woman who had
been as big as her when she was younger. "Go on," she
whispered, realising that Gran had stopped.
"It gets difficult now, honey. Be patient with me. I went
back to school. Eighteen months I'd been away, and my
boobs was twice as big as when I'd left. But then, I used
to finish my homework and my chores, and I used to get
away from the farm. There was this little place that only
I knew about, and I used to go and sit there all on my
own. Played with myself, I can tell you, now ..."
I looked at Tanya, and she looked at me, embarrassed for
Grandma Trudy.
.".. then there was this man. This Luke O'Hara. I can
still remember his name. He wasn't away at the war, like
the real men. I dunno how he got away with it. But he ...
he took me, down there in my secret little hiding place.
And he raped me ..."
Her voice tailed off. For a long time we all sat in
silence. Grandma Trudy fumbled around, looking for her
handkerchief. Tanya pulled hers out, pressed it into her
hand.
"Thank you, honey. That was it, really. I stopped eating,
Tim says. And in next to no time, I was skinny as a
rake. You'd never believe it. We had to leave the farm,
and we moved away. Quite suddenly. I found out why,
later. Much later."
Grandma Trudy sighed and shivered. "It's turned quite
chilly," she said, with an effort. "Could we continue
tomorrow, would you mind? Hey, I got past the worst
part. The rest of it is easy-peasy. Let's round up this
family of yours!"
Still grounded, and still under house arrest in his room,
Davie heard the family being rounded up and taken to
their rooms on the floor below. He wondered who the woman
had been, the topless woman by the pool. For that matter,
who had been the little girl. She must have been fifteen
or more, with titties like hers. If they were here for a
while, maybe he'd get to know her a bit better. Just as
he had come to know Clarrie a lot better this afternoon.
Sweat broke out on his forehead at the memory. He licked
his lips and could still taste Clarrie on them. He gently
grasped his cock and it hardened in his hand. Within
seconds, he was jerking and thrusting, his bed rocking
violently, the headboard banging against the wall.
He stopped at last, looking stupidly at the little pool
of milky-white juice on the bedspread. As he searched for
a tissue, the thought came to him that if Clarrie had
been here, she would have lapped it up for him.
Clarrie wasn't there, but she knew exactly what Davie was
doing. She was helping the girls to get their bags
unpacked in their rooms. Suzanne and Pansy were sharing
the room directly beneath Davie's, with Victoria next
door on her own.
"What's that noise?" asked Suzanne, looking fearfully up
at the ceiling as Davie's bed went into orbit above their
heads.
"Is it a ghost?" whimpered Pansy.
"That's just the plumbing," said Clarrie, "it's an old
house. It's not haunted, don't worry." Clarrie watched
Suzanne closely. The kid's tits were enormous, she
thought. If Davie gets a look at her, I'll be out. O-U-
T! "I'll leave you now, to get ready for bed. If you need
anything, the bathroom's that way, down the landing."
"Where do *you* sleep, Clarrie?" Pansy asked.
"Up there." Clarrie jerked her thumb. "Above Victoria's
room. So no noise, understand. I have to be up early in
the morning, to collect the eggs."
"Can we help you collect the eggs, Clarrie?" said
Suzanne.
"You think you can get up at half past five?" the
teenager asked.
"Okay. Not tomorrow, though. We've got weeks and weeks
..."
.".. and weeks and weeks ..." said Pansy.
.".. and weeks!" finished Suzanne. "Night-night,
Clarrie!"
"Night, sweetheart. Night, Pansy." The girls turned their
faces up to kiss Clarrie, then snuggled down under their
soft duvets.
"I like Clarrie," said Pansy, after the door had closed.
"So do I, said Suzanne. She tastes nice!"
By then, Clarrie was already pushing open Davie's door
and creeping into his room. The boy started in alarm,
screwing up a tissue and stuffing it into the waste bin.
"You scared me, creeping in like that!" he accused.
"Not as much as if I'd crept in ten minutes ago, you
horny little bugger. You were shaking the whole house
with your wanking!"
Davie went scarlet, and lowered his head, not daring to
look Clarrie in the face. He felt her soft hand on his
back again, and she took his shoulder and slowly turned
his face up to hers. "C'mere, sexy, I've been thinking of
you ever since this afternoon!" And she planted her soft
lips on his mouth. The kiss went on for several minutes,
by which time Davie was rock hard and panting for
Clarrie.
Clarrie was almost foaming with her desire to be fucked,
properly, this time. This was going to be lesson number
two for young Davie. She whispered to him.
"Go to the bathroom, do whatever you do at bedtime, then
come back here and wait for me. I've got a few things to
do, but I'll be here at nine-thirty on the dot. Don't
start without me, okay?" and she gave a gentle squeeze of
his mighty throbbing cock that nearly sent him over the
edge.
He could still taste Clarrie's tongue. Surely it didn't
still taste of cum after all these hours.
Chapter 6:- Things That Go Bonk In The Night
"Where is she," Davie muttered. The clock read nine-
thirty-five. In the darkened room, the red numerals
blinked at him. She wasn't coming back, she'd been
winding him up. He ought to have known. She wasn't
interested in a kid of fourteen, not a great big grown-up
woman like Clarrie. His erection died of disappointment,
and was replaced by a lump in his throat. Finally, he
turned over and lay on his side in the dusk.
"Move over, shithead, you can't have the whole bed to
yourself!"
He must have dropped off to sleep. She was here. Clarrie!
Her big cold body squeezed against his in the dark, her
chilly thigh forcing itself into the warmth of his bed.
"Lie still, darling, don't move. I'll soon warm up. I
nearly got spotted on the way here. Your Mum!"
Davie sat up like a Jack-in-the-box, disturbing the bed
covers. "She never saw you ...?"
"Don't be daft, boy! I know how to hide myself around
this house of a night-time. Right, lie down again, I want
a cuddle first, before we do anything else!"
How was it, Davie thought, that even the most ordinary
things that Clarrie said sounded so sexy!
She crept closer, pressing herself against him, rolling
him away from her so she was pressing against his back.
Their bodies fitted together like spoons. She was wearing
a nightie, but it wasn't a very long one, he could feel
the coarse, springy mat of her hair pressing against his
naked bottom. Her plump arms twined around him, one
above, one snaking beneath his body until her little
fingers clutched at his bare chest and squashed him
against her enormous titties. Now he could feel them,
they seemed to cover his entire back. He tried to turn
over, but she was far too strong for him.
"Lie still," she ordered. Her upper hand, the one not
trapped beneath his body, began to feel its way down his
chest, his stomach, to the fuzz at the root of his cock.
Then it made its way back up again. He felt her
fingernails as she gripped his little boy-tits, and
squeezed. Her tongue washed the back of his neck, then
sought his ear. It went inside, like an exploring worm.
Cold, wet and noisy.
Meanwhile, her hand had strayed downwards again. Then her
other hand was on the move, despite his weight. It cupped
his buttock, briefly, then wandered on, between his butt
cheeks, and down to cup his balls from behind. She nipped
his earlobe, tongued his ear again. He was nearly
screaming when, with surprising strength, she gripped his
shoulder and flipped him on to his back, and in the same
movement, straddled him.
For the second time that day, her hair dangled across his
face and chest. This time, though, Clarrie was naked, and
her immense breasts dangled down, too, the nipples
rubbing maddeningly in patterns on his soft skin. He
reached out for them, and this time she made no effort to
stop him, but sighed deeply as his hand found her left
breast.
It was far too big to capture in one hand. Even with
both, he could hardly control the thing, and it wobbled
around like a family sized jelly released from a mould.
She leaned slightly forward and directed the massive
breast toward his mouth.
"Oh, Clarrie! Clarrie!" he sighed, and his lips found the
enormous nipple.
"Ooooh, Dav-eee! You cheeky baby! Is baby thirsty, then?"
and she gave him the other nipple as well. Talk about tit
heaven. Davie suddenly had more breast pressed against
his face than could have been provided by any four of the
girls in his class at school.
Slowly, she lowered her bottom on to his stomach. He
could feel her concentrating hard as she wiggled her fat
rump around on him, he felt her practised little hand
reach round and guide his erect boyhood for a second or
so, then she squatted firmly down on him. He was ready to
scream in pain as the girl squashed his willie, but it
never happened. By a miracle, it had gone inside her.
And it was warm and wet. Things were happening in there,
too. All sorts of muscles were gripping him. It felt
weird, and marvellous. Clarrie laughed her musical little
ripple, and began a slow up and down movement on him. At
each stroke, she seemed to go higher, so that he was
afraid he would slip out of her altogether and she would
break it as she sat down again, but somehow, she seemed
to know just how far to go each time. Faster, now, and he
began to buck against her, raising his hips to meet
Clarrie on her way down, then faster still, until -
nearly there - she stopped and his hips were off the bed,
reaching up to her for what seemed like minutes until he
CAME, and she sobbed in joy and delight with him and
lowered herself tenderly on to his stomach as he
endlessly pumped the last of his sperm into her lovely
hole.
"Fucking Hell, Davie, where in fuck's name did you learn
to screw like that?" she breathed into his ear.
"Oh, Carrie, darling!" and they both dissolved into
giggles, laughing in each other's mouths as they lay
together, then kissing endlessly for hours and hours,
until he caught sight of the clock. Twenty past ten, it
said.
"Is that all the time is?" he asked, "or has that clock
stopped?"
"What's the fuckin' time matter?" she moaned, looking
over her shoulder. "No, that's right, what's up?"
"Nothing, I thought we'd been doing it for hours."
"Oh, no, lover. We've got another SEVEN hours before I
have to get up! You just lie still for a bit and get
your strength back. This next one's on Auntie Clarrie.
Darkness descended as Clarrie's dripping hairy snatch
covered his face. This time, he felt no trace of panic,
only warmth and security. And the most wonderful scent in
the world. Gallons of it. Hot and cold running Clarrie.
They did it in an amazing number of different ways, with
the one proviso that Clarrie was always on top. At five
thirty, as daylight crept in through the drawn curtains,
Clarrie kissed him and slipped away to the chicken runs.
Davie lay in a puddle of their combined juices, utterly
exhausted. All through the long summer night, the buxom
teenager had given him a sex lesson more comprehensive
and wide-reaching than most males get in their first five
sexually active years. And she had skipped out of the
bedroom as frisky as a puppy. He had heard her whistling
as she trotted across the yard. Twenty minutes later, she
came back for a quickie, tearing off her clothes, her
hair damp with the morning dew. She had to arouse him
again so that she could impale her frothing cooze on his
battle-weary stalk.
"Come on, lover. Fourteen years old, and having trouble
keeping it up already. If you weren't such a stud, I'd be
turning you in for a newer model."
So it was that when Maisie came into her son's room at
seven o'clock, she found the boy out stone cold. The
window was wide open, Clarrie had done that before she
had left, but the atmosphere in the little room was still
quite noticeably sexy. "You can come out today," Maisie
told her son, "but you've got to behave. Those little
girls are young and innocent, and they don't want to be
dealing with young tearaways like you, right?"
She gave another sniff as she left the room. If her Davie
had been five years older, she thought, she'd have
suspected that the slut Clarrie had been in his bed.
But young Clarrie had been up for hours, bright as a new
pin, washed and showered, and totally ready for whatever
the day might bring. And, with any luck at all, the next
night.
Breakfast was served on the patio, where the morning
sunshine had already burned off the last traces of mist.
It was going to be another perfect day. Amy had decided
to have a few days off work, and had phoned to invite our
Mum to her flat for a break away from the kids. "Go for
it, Mum," I'd told her, "We'll be all right here keeping
Gran company. We'll see you at the weekend."
I poured orange juice into the girls' glasses and they
glugged away happily.
"There was a ghost last night," said Pansy, suddenly
feeling brave enough to mention the fact.
Suzanne spluttered into her drink. "Silly! It's not a
ghost. Mummy.
It's not a ghost, Clarrie told us. She said it's the
plumbing."
Clarrie had appeared at that very moment, with a big
silver dish of bacon and eggs. She nearly dropped the
lot.
"I never heard anything, did you, Tanya?" I looked at my
sister.
"Nothing, but I slept like a log. What sort of noise was
it, Suze?"
"Like a banging. It started slow, and got faster and
faster."
"Then it would stop. And it would listen. And then it
would start up again after a little while. It kept
waiting until we were nearly asleep then it would start
again!"
Clarrie put the dish down on the table with a bang. I
couldn't see her face, as her back was towards me, but
her hand seemed to be shaking as she served bacon and
eggs to the three girls.
"Where did the noise come from, girls?" I asked.
"Straight up above our heads, like on the roof," said
Pansy, excited at the reaction she was getting.
Grandma Trudy had just come out on to the patio and had
heard the last few words. "What's the matter, Pansy," she
asked, "you been hearing noises in the night?"
"Ghosts on the roof!" insisted Pansy, proudly.
"Well, not on the roof, honey, there are another bunch of
rooms above yours. Did you hear it, Victoria?"
"Not a thing," said Victoria scornfully. "But if there
were any ghosts around, those two would hear them."
"Well, it's Davie's room above yours, kids. Why don't we
ask him if he heard anything?"
Clarrie whisked away the dish, still half full. With
trembling hands she started back in the direction of the
kitchen. "Gettin' cold, I'll fetch some more ...!" she
cried as she fled.
"Who's Davie," I asked Grandma Trudy.
"Maisie's boy. He's fourteen. You won't have seen him
yet, he's been confined to his room for letting down the
tyres on the policeman's bike."
Fourteen, I thought. Probably having a wank. But not all
night, surely. The girls always did exaggerate
everything. If I've told them once, I've told them a
million times.
"Where's that Clarrie got to?" Grandma Trudy sounded
exasperated. "You haven't had your eggs and bacon yet
..."
"She rushed off in a bit of a hurry," I said. "She's a
country girl, is she scared of ghosts?"
"She's scared of something," Grandma Trudy said, rather
ominously. "I think Maisie ought to have a word or two
with her." She thought for a moment. "Or maybe *I* ought
to!"
That was something else about these country girls, I
thought. If Clarrie was going to wear such a short skirt,
I would have expected her to have been wearing panties.
Davie was going down the back stairs when he met Clarrie
going the other way. "Oh, hello!" he said awkwardly.
The girl gave him a scared little glance. "Don't say
anything about last night. Not to nobody, okay?"
Davie reddened. "*I* wasn't going to tell anyone."
"No, you'd better not neither. I reckon they heard us.
The kids are talking about being kept awake by ghosts."
"Ghosts?" Davie went pale. "Is this place haunted, then?"
"Course not, prat-face! That was us they could hear,
banging away.
Christ, if your Mum hears, I'll be right in the shit
...!"
"YOU'LL be in the shit?"
"We both will. But she can't sack you, you're her flesh
and blood. I could be out of a job, and it's all your
fault!" And Clarrie flounced away up the stairs.
"My fau ...?" Davie watched her disappear, then turned
and trudged down to the kitchen. How can it be my fault,
he thought, *she* was fucking *me*!
And she's forgotten to put her knickers on again.
Chapter 7:- Davie Gets Lucky Again
Davie wandered into the kitchen, where his mother kissed
him and served up his breakfast. "Careful, lovey, that
plate's red hot," she warned him. "You woke up then," she
said. "Spark out, you was, at seven when I come in your
room. What was you up to last night, then?"
"Nothing," snapped Davie, too quickly. "I was asleep. Out
cold, like you said. I must have been tired."
"Well, get that lot down you. I got a couple of jobs for
you to do, then you're going to meet the lady's daughter
and her family. You can show the kids around later this
afternoon. That'll be nice, won't it?"
He looked sharply at his mother to see if she was trying
to be sarcastic. Her face was innocent and beaming. He
applied himself to his breakfast. His balls had been
crushed; his willie felt raw. If this was what love was
all about, he wondered why people were always singing
songs about it.
"Now, where's that bloody girl? CLARRIE? Never there when
you want her, that idle bitch. Davie, love, go and find
her, will you? I'll put that back on the stove 'til you
get back ..."
Davie crept off upstairs, and knocked softly on Clarrie's
door.
"Who's that?"
"S'me. Davie!"
"You can't come in here, not after last night. I'll get
shot."
"It's all right. Mum sent me. She needs you to help in
the kitchen.
Honest."
The door creaked open an inch or two. "Come in, quick."
He slipped inside, looking around. There were pop-star
posters on all the walls. The bed had pink sheets and
lacy pillowcases. A huge blue bra lay on the bed. Clarrie
was naked, and looked somehow smaller. She threw her arms
around his neck and squashed herself against him. Her
lips were hot and urgent on his face, and her tongue met
his.
He felt himself coming to attention; although the inside
of his shorts felt like they were made of sandpaper!
"Ouch!" he croaked as Clarrie thrust her hips forward.
"S'matter?" she asked, pausing briefly to tear her lips
away from his. He took the opportunity to make a massive
rearrangement of his clothing in the groin area. "Ooooh,
lover! Don't do that, you'll drive me wild! And you know
what that'll mean, don't you?" Already, the girl's hand
was inside his pants, and he hadn't felt a thing as she
had unzipped him. Shit, she'd got his willie out, and all
in about five seconds. Bloody hell, it was *inside* her!
And it was. Clarrie backed him against the door and rode
his aching tool until he felt a rushing, building
sensation in his ears and his balls. Then he was pumping
into her again, and she was whimpering and moaning softly
in his ear, rubbing her massive titties against his
chest, the nipples like the last joint of his thumbs.
Christ!
She unplugged herself, and obligingly put him away,
zipping him up and giving his crotch a friendly little
pat, as if it were a good dog. "There!" she said. "Now,
get out of here while I get dressed. We can't have you
looking at me and getting all excited, can we?"
And suddenly, he was outside her door. He went downstairs
again.
"You took your time, didn't you?" said Maisie, stirring
something in a bowl. "Well, is she coming?"
"What? Oh, yes. She was in the toilet. She's washing her
hands." He took his breakfast plate off the stove. The
fried egg was curling up at the edges. "I'm not all that
hungry," he told her, and put it down again. He could
feel a chilly dampness in his underwear as juice
continued to seep out."
"Come here and give us a kiss, then get out and tidy the
woodshed. We've got a load of logs coming in, and you'll
have to make room for them." He kissed his mother on the
cheek and slipped out of the back door, tugging his pants
to move the wet bit away from his willie. Yuck, he
thought.
Maisie sniffed the air after he had gone, wondering if
she was really smelling what she thought she was. Then
Clarrie came into the kitchen.
"You feelin' better, girl?"
"What? What you mean?" Clarrie was bright red.
"Come here, Clarrie!" she said quietly. The girl crept
closer, knowing what was coming. Maisie raised the maid's
skirt.
Fortunately, Clarrie had put her panties on.
Unfortunately, a generous quantity of Davie's juices were
still inside her at the time.
"Go and change your knickers, young lady! And have a
shower. You're going up before the lady!"
Davie walked in front, the girls capered along behind,
chattering amongst themselves. Every time they tried to
catch up with him, he walked faster. He had to, if they
got ahead of him they'd see he had a monster hard-on. It
was his Mum's fault, sending him out here with three
incredibly beautiful girls like this! He'd become erect
straight away, as soon as he had seen Pansy. He got even
harder when he was introduced to Victoria. And when he
saw Suzanne, he was on the verge of creaming his pants.
It was strange, he thought. He lived in a house liberally
blessed with large-breasted women. Even if they were all
rather ancient, they were fun to look at. Even the lady,
she made him feel excited sometimes, and she must be a
hundred years old. Then there was her Amy, he enjoyed
watching her whenever she came over to visit, she
*really* wobbled. And there was Clarrie, of course. His
erection became even harder, thinking of Clarrie.
But now, all these others had come along. It was if he
was being punished for liking big titties, by having
thousands of them everywhere he looked. Even little Pansy
had boobs as big as any of the girls in his class at
school, while her sister was miles bigger. And their Mum,
too!
And as if that wasn't enough, there was that Suzanne. He
began to walk stiff-legged as things were now getting
well out of hand inside his pants. And then there was
Suzanne's Mum, surely she must have the biggest boobs in
the whole world. Would Suzanne one day be as big as her?
Oh, shit, yes please!
It was a hard life, being a teenage tit-freak.
"Slow down, Davie," called Victoria, "Suzanne and Daniel
can't keep up."
He turned round. Suzanne and her little cousin were
thirty yards behind, the little girl trying to run and
hold her big boobs with one hand, while Daniel's feet
wouldn't carry him fast enough. He was panting and
sobbing. Davie stopped. There was a grassy bank down
here, leading to a stream. More of a little river,
really. He turned off and went down to the edge of the
water. Pansy and Victoria sat down next to him in relief,
while the laggards caught up and joined them.
Suzanne was puffing and blowing, her great big thingies
going up and down under her T-shirt. Davie sat forward to
hide his erection which was already making a big wet
patch on the front of his jeans. Not quickly enough, he
realised, Victoria had already noticed. If she had been a
dog, her ears would have pricked up.
This, she realised, was what the other girls all talked
about the whole time at school. A hard, was it? Hard-up?
She tried to see it but Davie was sitting all hunched up.
She moved a little and found she could see a bit better.
She stared at it, and Davie practically screwed himself
up into a ball.
I can't sit like this, he thought. It's not getting any
smaller, and she's not going to go away. Disguising his
movements as a coughing fit, he heaved and struggled to
move the bloody thing so it was pointing straight
upwards, out of the way. The position brought some
relief, but Victoria's eyes were suddenly almost popping
out of her head.
"What ... what's THAT?" she gasped.
"What's what?" Davie said in a voice of doom, and chanced
a quick look down. Oh dear, oh dear, oh shit! No wonder
it felt cold all of a sudden. His cock had poked out of
the top of his jeans. Victoria moved right next to him
and reached out her little hand.
"Gosh, that's nice," she gurgled. May I touch it?"
"NO!" he shouted, too late. Victoria's fingers were
playing gently across the tip of it, causing the strange
thing to leap out of the way.
"Aaagh, it's alive!" she squealed. "And it's wet." She
sniffed her fingers cautiously, then licked them. A
little smile came over her face as she realised it tasted
quite nice. She went back for second helpings.
"No, you mustn't!" Davie cried again, but again too late.
The others had gathered round.
"That's his willie," Pansy informed them, "Same as
Daniel's." She studied it for a few seconds. "Well, it's
not quite the same."
Suzanne didn't have a little brother to look at, and
she'd never seen one of these things before, so she
leaned across to get a look at close range. Her breast
sploshed against Davie's knee, but she didn't seem to
notice. He certainly did. So did his willie, which began
to leap around, forcing itself further and further into
the open air. Suzanne bent closer and put her tongue
out. Before Davie could stop her, she had licked the very
end of it.
"It tastes just like Clarrie!" she announced joyously,
and Davie gave a cry and buried his head in both hands.
Again he felt the little girl's tongue touch him, then he
was engulfed in a warm wetness, hearing the voices of the
girls echoing in his head.
"Oh, Suze, that's GROSS!"
"Yucky! She's EATING it!"
"Mmnnng mmnph!"
He tried to warn her, but the words wouldn't come. What
did come was his most violent ejaculation since the one
that took place at around ten-fifteen the previous night.
Suzanne, taken completely by surprise, swallowed a
mouthful before she could get the thing free. The rest of
it went in half a dozen spurts all over the front of her
bulging T-shirt.
"What's all that stuff?" she screamed.
"I tried to tell you!" Davie shouted, but you wouldn't
stop sucking me.
"You should have stopped. You've wee-weed on my shirt!"
Suzanne tried to pull the wet garment away from her skin,
but it clung to her.
"You'd better take that off," Victoria said. "We can
rinse it in the stream. It will soon dry in the sun."
Davie's second dream came true. Or had the first one been
a nightmare? Suzanne tugged the T-shirt off over her
head, and sat there in her bra. From where he sat, it
looked almost as big as Clarrie's. Yet Suzanne couldn't
have been any more than thirteen. After all, she talked
like a baby sometimes.
The girl kneeled by the water and dunked the shirt in it,
sluicing it around to remove the clinging gooey slime. It
was the strangest wee-wee she'd ever seen. It seemed to
float away in strings. At last, as the others watched
critically, she held it up at arms length. "How does that
loooooo ..."
Girls built like Suzanne are not designed to kneel on
river banks holding wet T-shirts at arms-length in front
of them.
The splash was resounding. Part of the reason for that
was that Davie had reached out to save her, but had
overbalanced himself. He followed Suzanne into the water.
There was a brief struggle as they clutched at each
other. Pansy and Victoria screamed. Daniel burst into
tears. Suzanne and Davie clambered to their feet - the
water only came up to their thighs - and hauled
themselves on to the bank.
"It's c-c-c-c-cold!" shivered Suzanne. Davie said
nothing, but stood dripping like a drowned rat.
Victoria again acted first. "Take it off," she told
Suzanne, pulling at her shorts, "everything, pants and
bra. All off! You too," she said to Davie, "strip it all
off ..."
It was all they *could* do. They scrambled out of their
soaking clothes, handing them one item at a time to
Victoria to wring out. Pansy draped them on a bush in
the hot sun. The last two items were Suzanne's bra and
Davie's underpants. The two shivering youngsters looked
at each other with considerable interest.
"Go and run around," Victoria told them, shooing them
before her like big pink geese. "Go ON!"
And they did. They made a curiously arousing sight,
Suzanne's breasts bouncing and flying around in all
directions, while Davie's prong refused to lie down and
die. If anything, it seemed to become even more erect as
he followed Suzanne's tight little buttocks around on the
warm grass. At last, panting, he stopped and sprawled in
an untidy heap. Suzanne flopped down beside him,
wriggling like a big pink puppy and giggling in
excitement.
"Gosh, Davie! I hope nobody's watching us!"
"No, I don't think so," he puffed. Last night had taken
it out of him.
"That's good, then!" she whispered, and threw her arms
around his neck. "Gimme a cuddle!"
Enormous spongy boobs squashed against his bare chest.
Much firmer than Clarrie's.
Oh, bloody hell, here we go again.
They all walked home slowly. Davie was deep in thought.
After his discovery of sex last night, he realised that
he would have to look at girls in a different way from
now on. He looked at the three who walked along with him
now. Suzanne was walking on his left, her hip brushing
softly against his leg. He could feel the warmth of her
every time it happened. After a while, she began pressing
herself harder and harder against his thigh, forcing him
over to the right, where he bumped against Victoria.
Suzanne's skimpy shorts were nicely filled by her girlish
bottom, but not nearly as much as her T-shirt was filled
by her womanish titties.
And Victoria, on the other side, not touching him, except
when Suzanne made him collide with her scorching hot leg.
Her eyes never left his face. Not as old as Suzanne,
obviously, her titties weren't as big, but she behaved
much older. While Suzanne and he had been charging
around, trying to get themselves dried off, Victoria had
sat back watching them, resting on her elbows and
laughing, and her nipples had been sticking out through
her top like spikes.
Meanwhile, Pansy and Daniel had been rolling in the
grass, completely absorbed in their own game. Once the
excitement of Davie and Suzanne falling in the river was
over, the two little ones lost interest in them
altogether and started playing. Funny thing, even Pansy
had nice chubby boobs, but she was just a kid. The two of
them were prancing on ahead like dogs, occasionally
glancing back to see that the others were still
following.
Davie studied his two female admirers. What would they be
like to do it with? He tried to imagine it, as it had
been with Clarrie, but the images wouldn't form in his
head. Clarrie was a woman, but these two, despite their
mature appearance, were still only girls. Never mind, he
could still try, no harm in that. He knew he was good at
it, Clarrie had told him last night. Dozens of times.
What was the word? Stud, that was it. Davie the Stud. I
wonder which one I will get to fuck first.
Chapter 8- The Truth Will Out
"Had a nice walk, dear?" Tanya held her arms out to
Suzanne as the little group approached.
Daniel came up to me, hopping up and down in excitement.
"Mummy, Mummy, 'Zanne fell in the river!"
"And Davie, they *both* fell in," reported Pansy.
"What?" Tanya felt her little girl's shorts. They were
still damp.
"When did this happen?"
"Ages ago, Mum, we dried our clothes on a bush, it's all
right," Suzanne reassured her. "Me and Davie."
"Wait a minute. You and Davie? You took your wet things
off and dried them on a bush?"
"Of course, like I said. They're dry, now."
Tanya looked at me and shook her head. "Off with it. Now!
Get up to your room and change into something dry."
Clarrie had appeared on the terrace, hearing all the
excited noises. She had also come out to see if Davie was
around. Tanya spoke to her. "Clarrie would you go with
Suzanne, please, and make sure she changes everything.
She fell in the river with Davie!"
Clarrie had already held out her hand to Suzanne when
Tanya finished her sentence. "With Davie?" Clarrie looked
at the boy, who was edging away in the direction of the
house. "C'mon, Suzanne," the teenager said, "And YOU,
TOO, Davie!" she planted a hand on his shoulder and
steered him away indoors.
"How did they dry their clothes, Victoria," I asked.
"I made them take everything off, and we hung their
things on a bush.
They soon dried."
"What about Suzanne and Davie, how did *they* get dry,
you couldn't hang them on a bush."
"Course not, stupid! They ran around for a bit, then they
had a
cuddle. They soon got warmed up"
"I bet they did," Tanya growled.
Grandma Trudy came out. "What's all this, I saw Clarrie
in the kitchen, and she said those two had fallen in the
river. Is that true?"
"Yes," Tanya said, "they've gone off to change."
"But how did it happen?"
Pansy was thinking, trying to remember the sequence of
events. She always likes to get things right before she
explains anything. "I remember," she said at last.
"Go on, then, darling, what happened?"
"Well, we walked down to the river and sat down. And
Davie had his willie out ..."
"He did WHAT?" Tanya and Grandma Trudy screamed in
chorus.
"He got his willie out," Pansy repeated, gratified by the
reaction. "And Suzanne was licking it! Yuck! I told her
to take it out of her mouth, but she wouldn't listen to
me. Then she did, she took it out, and some wet stuff
came out and went on her T-shirt." The audience was
silent and open-mouthed by now. "So she took her top off
and washed it in the river. She still had her bra on, so
it was all right ..."
"Oh, good, that's all right then," Tanya said, faintly.
.".. but then she fell in, and when Davie tried to grab
her, he fell in, too. But it wasn't very deep." She
sounded genuinely disappointed. "They were standing up
in the water, and it only came up to Davie's willie. Then
they got out and we made them take their clothes off and
I hung them on the bush. That's all."
That was all, as my daughter said. "Let's hear their side
of it before we go ape-shit, Sis," I told her, but I was
feeling sick inside.
"Okay," said Tanya dully. "I'll ask Suze after tea."
"I'll have a word with Davie," said Grandma Trudy. "He'll
talk to me."
"Wait there, you!" Davie stopped outside Suzanne's
bedroom door as if he had been turned to a pillar of
salt. Clarrie followed the girl into her room and watched
as she undressed. She peeled off her T-shirt and Clarrie
took it from her hand as Suzanne peeled her shorts off,
hopping precariously on one leg. Even inside her bra,
everything was bouncing.
Clarrie waited for the girl to hand over her shorts. The
damp T-shirt seemed to have some stains on the front. She
sniffed at them suspiciously, but the whole thing smelled
only of river water. Suzanne watched her.
"I washed it all off," she said, helpfully.
"Washed what all off?"
"The stuff that came out of Davie's thingie. That's why I
fell in, I was licking his thingie 'cos it tasted nice -
it tasted a bit like you - and it came out of my mouth
when it was jerking about so much, and a load of stuff
went all over my shirt. It will wash off, won't it. 'Cos
I like this shirt!"
"Oh, it will come off, all right, now that I know what it
is," said Clarrie, grimly. "Take the rest of your things
off, and I'll wash them. Quick, I need to see Davie gets
his things off as well. Especially his jeans, they're
still quite damp."
"There you are, Clarrie," Suzanne put her panties on top
of the bra in Clarrie's hands. "Will my bra be dry by the
morning? Only my other one's a bit too tight."
I bet it is, thought Clarrie, stunned by the size of the
child's breasts, now inches away from her. Davie would
have enjoyed those as well. "Hurry up and get dressed,
sweetheart, then go and have your tea. I'll be down
presently."
"Okay! said Suzanne, happily, rummaging through her top
drawer.
"NOW then!" Clarrie took Davie's arm and frog-marched him
along the landing to the back stairs. "Keep going!" she
ordered as the boy stumbled. Along the passage and into
his bedroom. The door slammed and she dumped him on his
bed.
"Get undressed, now! What have you been up to with that
kid?"
"Me, nothing! Nothing happened, Clarrie, honest."
"And your jeans, too. Oh, so you didn't fall in the
river, then?"
"Well, yeah ... but ..."
"And those shorts! And so you didn't take all your
clothes off to get them dry?"
"Well, yeah ..."
"And your socks. And you didn't run around stark,
bollock naked with that little sex-bomb?"
Sex-bomb? "Well, I s'pose so, but ..."
"And she didn't fall in the river in the first place
because she was trying to wash the CUM-STAINS OFF HER T-
SHIRT?"
"Oh!" said Davie in a tiny voice.
"AFTER SHE WAS SUCKING YOU OFF?"
No reply.
"Oh, Davie! What am I going to do with you? One night of
love-making from me, and you think it's okay to try and
get the pants off an eight-year-old kid!"
"Eight? EIGHT years old? Suzanne?"
"She's eight and a half! That's all she is."
"But she's ..." He used his hands to describe Suzanne.
"Yes, she is, isn't she?" Clarrie pushed him on to his
back. "She's really big, isn't she, Davie?"
Clarrie unfastened the buttons of her blouse.
"She's HUGE, isn't she, Davie?"
Clarrie dropped the blouse on the floor and reached
around behind her back to unfasten her bra.
"But she's not as HUGE as me, is she, Davie?"
Not quite, he thought. She lowered herself on to him.
"And she can't do THIS, can she, Davie?"
Not yet, he thought, surrendering himself to his fate.
The knock on the door stopped them in their tracks.
Clarrie froze in mid-thrust.
"You there, Davie?"
The lady! Clarrie put both her hands in her mouth.
"Davie? May I come in, honey?"
"Errrrm ...!"
The door opened. Trudy closed it behind her as soon as
she took in the scene. Clarrie hadn't moved. Davie
couldn't move, anyway.
Trudy, feeling faint, walked over to the window and stood
looking out.
"Would you like to get up, Clarrie, please!" she said
without turning round.
The wanton girl slowly detached herself, while Trudy
stared out at the sunlit scene. A cloud drifted across
the garden. Clarrie picked up her blouse and held it in
front of herself. "Get dressed, honey!" said Trudy, not
unkindly, which made it even worse for the young girl.
Sobbing now, she pulled the blouse on, then bent to pick
up her skirt. She stepped into it, then picked up her
abandoned bra. There appeared to be no panties.
Trudy turned at last. "Now go to your bedroom and wait
for me there, please." Biting her lip, tears flooding
down her cheeks, Clarrie left the room. Davie watched her
go, then looked at Trudy. "I only came to talk about you
and young Suzanne falling in the river," she said. "I
hardly expected to find you ... to find this going on!
How long have you and Clarrie been ...?"
"Last night, ma'am," Davie muttered.
"In your room? In here?" Trudy put two and two together.
Ghosts, she thought, managing not to giggle. "What
happened this afternoon? Down by the river?"
"Nothing, ma'am, nothing, honest! We got wet and took our
clothes off, that's all. I didn't f..."
"I know that, Davie. I believe you. But Suzanne's only
*eight* years old, what made you think of showing her
your ... yourself." She pointed to the offending part,
now mercifully no longer erect. She realised straight
away that she hadn't made the right point. He shouldn't
have been showing his cock to *any* girls, eight or
twenty-eight.
Davie tried to tell her. "I'd got a hard-on, ma'am. It
sort of slipped out of my pants, and the girls wanted to
touch it. They hadn't seen one before. Honestly, ma'am!"
Sheesh. Crazy story. Crazy enough to be true.
"Now listen, Davie. I'm not going to forbid you to see
Clarrie. You'd only find a way, somehow. Clarrie's a very
grown-up and a VERY sexy girl, and she's awfully
experienced for her age. It will surely end in tears for
you, but there's no point in telling you that either. But
if I catch you trying ANYTHING with little Suzanne, you
are in trouble, that is TROUBLE, Davie, is that clear?"
That was clear. As soon as Trudy had gone, he rolled over
on to his belly. His pillow smelled of Clarrie. The whole
bed smelled of Clarrie. Girls were nothing but trouble,
he decided. End in tears? It had only *started* last
night, and here came the tears already.
"Let me make it crystal clear, Clarrie. I am not firing
you. Sir Roger will have to do that, if he can. Perhaps I
will have to tell him what I have seen, when he comes
back?"
Clarrie went as white as a sheet.
"I thought so. I already told Davie, I'm not going to
stop you two having sex. You'd only go somewhere else and
do it. You, especially, Clarrie, because you can't go a
day without it. I also told him it will end in tears. For
him, that is. You'll throw him away without a second
thought when Sir Roger comes back! Just remember,
Clarrie, I know everything. Everything!"
Clarrie crumpled on her bed, and dissolved into
shuddering tears.
Trudy watched her for a moment, about to leave.
I never could do the right thing and leave well alone,
she thought, sitting down next to the girl on the bed and
putting an arm round her. Clarrie tensed, then relaxed,
her head buried in Trudy's shoulder, her massive breasts,
loose inside her creased blouse, mashing against Trudy's
far larger ones. The older woman hugged the teenager
tight, rocking her like a baby until the girl's sobs died
away.
"You take the rest of the night off, honey. Go have a
shower. I guess you need one." She chucked the girl under
the chin and wiped a tear away with a finger. "And if you
simply *can't* leave Davie alone, try to do it quietly,
okay?"
Trudy gathered up the bundle of clothes she had collected
from Davie's room, and went quietly downstairs.
"Where's Clarrie, Nana Trudy?" asked Suzanne.
"She said she's not feeling too good, she's going to
bed," said Trudy.
"But she was going to tuck us in and kiss us goodnight,"
complained Pansy. "It's not fair!"
"If poor Clarrie's not well, you wouldn't want to make
her get up, would you?" I asked her.
"Well, could Davie come and say goodnight then?" Suzanne
asked, brightly. "Can he, Mummy?"
Tanya gulped. "We'll have to see about that, Suze. He
might have other things he has to do."
"I'll ask Maisie. Can I ask Maisie for Davie to come into
our bedroom tonight, Mummy?" Pansy was already getting
up. Oh, God!
"*I'll* come and kiss you goodnight, kids," Grandma Trudy
said, "but only if you're going to be good girls. I'll
tell you a story, too. I'll bet Davie wouldn't do that."
That clinched it.
But there were still problems being stored up for
tomorrow.
At least, the ghosts were quiet that night. Perhaps they
were still there, but at least, they kept quiet.
<end 2/4>
From: acotto@gate.net (Anthony Cotto)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Grown-up Girls, Part 3 (big breasts, yng teen)
Date: 4 Dec 1995 17:00:17 -0500
Message-ID: <49vr1h$m4g@navajo.gate.net>
THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!!
I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to
remain anonymous.
Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the
author.
GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog
WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of
age who have no objection to reading about young women's
breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of
fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of
the events described in this story actually took place,
to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are
described as taking place between adults and minors. No
young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you
get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you
find it.
None of the characters in this story is real. Their
names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are
fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or
dead, is unintentional.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have
appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's
Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before
elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United
States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young
mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers
as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again
in the next episode of the same saga, four years later.
(She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form
at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were
clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the
story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't
yet any more to tell. Well, we lied. Authors, living as
they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often.
Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years
later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older
sister.
GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog
Part III
Chapter 9:- Relationships
The ghosts had been there all right, but they'd been as
quiet as they could. Clarrie made love to Davie with a
quiet intensity. By morning, the boy was feeling even
more shattered than yesterday. He wondered if it was
always like this. What would it be like with a *really*
heavy girl on top of him, instead of just a very heavy
one.
"You've squashed my balls, Clarrie," he groaned as she
eased herself off him and stretched like a cat.
"Oh get away, you great baby! Gissa kiss, I'll see you
after breakfast. No time to come back for a quickie this
morning. There'll be too much to do. Have a wank,
instead. Seeya!"
And she was gone. He lay there for a few seconds in the
quiet. He thought he could hear voices. There it was
again, girls, laughing. It was the kids, downstairs, in
the room just below his. He thought of Suzanne, down by
the stream yesterday, and to his horror, found himself
becoming erect again. He was still wet with the juice
from the inside of Clarrie, and now he was getting hard
thinking about an eight-year-old! But *what* an eight-
year-old!
He took Clarrie's parting advice. As he came, he moaned
to himself, 'Ooooh, Suzanne!' And to his dismay, he found
it quite exciting.
Victoria hadn't been able to sleep at all. It was
morning, and outside the sun was up, the chickens were
making a terrible row and she was restless. For some
reason, she kept thinking of Davie. Such a thing had
never happened to her before. She remembered the
afternoon by the little river, when she had touched his
willie. Later, walking back home, they had looked at each
other. She blushed at the memory and her nipples felt all
tingly. She touched herself beneath the bed covers, and
found wetness down there.
I wonder if he's awake yet, she thought. They wake up
early in the country, she supposed. We could have a
little chat. Nobody would know. She slipped a leg over
the side of her bed, and quietly stood up, trying not to
let the floor creak. She caught a glimpse of herself in
her bedroom mirror. Golly! Her nipples were sticking out
miles! Hunching her shoulders slightly to hide them, she
opened the door, and made for the back stairs.
She was about to round the corner on to the top landing
when a door opened and Clarrie came out, wearing a short
nightie. So short, it didn't even cover her front bottom.
Victoria blushed at the thought of seeing Clarrie's
thingie. It was *so* hairy! She ducked out of sight as
the teenager, whistling softly, went into another bedroom
leaving the door open a few inches. Victoria froze where
she was. It was all quiet. Clarrie's whistling had
stopped, but there were some rustlings from inside the
room. Victoria crept out of her hidey-hole and took a
cautious step along the corridor. Then the door handle
rattled, and Victoria nearly screamed in terror. She
scuttled back into cover again, as the door opened fully,
and Clarrie came out, in her blouse and skirt. She walked
briskly past, and went down the stairs. Victoria thought
she could smell a faint odour of kippers in the girl's
wake. She must have had breakfast in her bedroom, she
thought.
Slowly, she stepped forward again, one foot, then
another, like a stalking cat. All the way to Davie's
door. Which one? She counted the doors again. This one
here. But that was the room Clarrie had come out of in
her nightie. Victoria gasped and blushed again, as rude
thoughts passed through her head. She tried the handle,
then pushed the door open. Davie was lying in bed, eyes
closed, panting slightly as if he had been running.
He must be having a nightmare, she thought. Best not wake
him up. She was about to turn round and leave, when a
thought came to her, a thought so daring as to make her
go crimson with shame at having even thought about
thinking it. Raising the corner of the bed covers, she
slipped one foot into the bed, then perched her little
bottom on the side of it. The bed dipped alarmingly, and
Davie gave a groan. She stopped, but just at that moment,
the boy turned over on to his side, with his back to
Victoria. There was suddenly plenty of room in the boy's
bed.
She was in, not daring to move, feeling the warmth of his
body next to hers, and the smell of kippers. Gosh, he
must have had *his* breakfast in bed as well. Davie
muttered something in his sleep.
"I thought you weren't coming back," he said in a weary
voice.
Victoria was puzzled, but decided he must be talking in
his sleep. She gave a little moan in case a reply was
expected, and Davie sighed contentedly. He seemed to be
waiting for her to make the next move, although she had
no idea what gave her that notion. She touched his back
softly, laid her hand flat against it. It felt strong and
hard. She kissed the warm skin. Then, remembering his
willie and how nice that had felt, she snaked an arm over
his hip to roughly where she thought his willie ought to
be. To her satisfaction, she found it straight away. It
was clammy and damp, all of it, as she ran her little
fingers from the base to the tip and back.
Davie gave a soft groan and clutched at her hand,
stopping her from letting go. Fine, she thought, and
gripped it harder. Davie screamed and sat up. He saw her
and yelped again, crawling away until he was hard against
the wall.
"Hello, Davie, I came to have a little chat."
"What about?" he sounded strangely agitated; guilty,
even.
"Oh, just things, you know?" To be honest, she hadn't
thought about an agenda for the meeting. "Shall we talk
about sex? Shall we do *more* than talk?" she suggested.
"Aaaargh!" Davie squawked. "No, I mustn't! You're too
young!"
"Suze wasn't too young for a cuddle yesterday!"
"That's different."
"It *is* different. I'm two and a half years older than
her. I'm ten," she added proudly and put her arms around
him, pressing her plump breasts against his chest. He
stopped resisting.
"Have you done it very many times?" she asked him.
"Quite a lot," he said, thinking about the last two
nights.
"Good! You can do *me*, then."
"Whaddya mean?" He flattened himself against the wall
again.
"You can do me! I don't mind. I want you to. I'm ever so
good at it.
I'm brilliant," she added in a flash of inspiration.
"Are you?" he said in a flabbergasted tone.
"Oooh, yes. Everybody says so."
"What if I don't want to?" he tried, without much hope.
She spluttered with laughter. "Course you want to. Boys
always want to."
"All right then." Clarrie wasn't coming back, after all.
What harm could it do. It wasn't as if she was an eight-
year-old, anyway. Victoria was ten. Most important of
all, after the last two nights, she was only a little
over half the weight of Clarrie! "Go on then!" he said.
Victoria felt a funny feeling in her front bottom again.
She lay back and closed her eyes. "Go on, then," she said
huskily. This was the great moment. It was going to
happen to her!
"I'm waiting," said Davie.
"So am I, darling!"
They lay side by side and waited for a few minutes, then
both sat up.
"It isn't working," said Davie.
"Just get on top of me," prompted Victoria, and spread
her legs as wide as they would go. Nothing happened.
Davie looked curiously down at Victoria's sparsely-furred
little cunny. It looked wet. She was all ready for him,
so why wouldn't she just get on and do it!
"But you're supposed to get on top of *me*," he said.
Victoria thought back to discussions at school. Girls lay
on their backs and boys climbed on top and put their
willies in your thing. But perhaps there was another way
she hadn't heard about. People were always finding new
ways of doing things. "We can do it the other way,
though, if you like," she said in a worldly manner.
"The other way?" Davie said, in panic. "Oh, you mean the
*other* way!
Okay. Go on, then."
"Ah!"
Inspiration came at last to Davie. Sweating, he said,
"Oh, I didn't think you'd have wanted to do it *that*
way, since you've done it so many times. I'm ready,
though. Come on. Sit on my face!"
Victoria propped herself on a slender elbow and stared at
him. "What for?" she asked, puzzled.
"To do it. You have to suck my cock and sit on my face!"
"Ugh! You're gross, Davie! Suck your own cock and sit on
your own face, you pervert, if that's your idea of a
relationship!" and she flounced out of the bed. Arms
akimbo, she paused at the door for a parting shot. "And
I'm telling Nana Trudy about you and Clarrie ..."
"She already knows, nyeeerrr ...!"
.".. you've been eating kippers in your room!" Victoria
marched out of the bedroom, her little nose in the air.
She was back in her own bed in thirty seconds. "Boys!
Yuck! I'm going to stay a virgin, like Mummy."
Davie lay there blinking. "What was she on about?
Kippers? Girls! What is the fucking matter with them?"
And he tried for another wank, but fell asleep half way
through.
"We've got to have a word with the girls, Sis," said
Tanya. We carried our breakfast things into the kitchen
and handed them to Clarrie who was trilling a happy song
as she bent over the sink. I couldn't quite see if she
was wearing panties this morning. Probably not.
"Let's get them now. No time like the present. Before
they go off with Davie again."
So we did. Suzanne described exactly what had happened
down by the river: it tallied with Pansy's version
perfectly. Victoria said very little. I looked at her,
she seemed a bit pale.
"You all right, darling, you look a bit peaky?"
"'Course I'm all right," she snapped. "It's you lot,
going on about sex all the time. We haven't done
anything."
And no, apart from giving blow-jobs on the river bank,
they hadn't, really.
Tanya did her best to explain why it wasn't a good idea
to lick a boy's willie, and especially to put it in your
mouth. She tried to do it without using the word 'dirty',
and she wasn't finding it at all easy.
"It did taste nice, though, Mummy. It tasted like
Clarrie." Suzanne looked up at Tanya and clutched her
hand. "*Why* can't I do it again?"
"Maybe Davie didn't like it," I suggested. "Did he tell
you to stop?"
"Ooooh yes, but he didn't really mean it, did he?"
No, he probably didn't.
"I think, Suze, if you feel like doing anything like that
to a boy, you should ask him first. And if he says no,
then you must take 'no' for an answer."
Tanya, I thought, I can't believe you just said that.
One day, soon, these kids are going to begin to wonder
why their mothers are so much younger than all the other
kids' mothers. And then what are we going to tell them?
The girls didn't have that particular dilemma that day.
Davie failed to put in an appearance, and Grandma Trudy
reported that he didn't feel very well. Perhaps he'd got
a bit of a cold through wearing damp clothes.
Victoria and Suzanne wanted to visit him, but we said he
wouldn't want to talk if he had a sore throat. So we all
went for a walk. Not the best idea in the world, because
Pansy and Daniel led us straight to the very spot by the
river where the act had taken place.
"They fell in just there, Mummy," she said. "There's the
bush we hung their clothes on, and they ran around over
there. And that's where they lay down for a cuddle!"
Victoria took my hand, and Suzanne reached for Tanya's.
"Let's go somewhere else, Mummy, I don't really like this
place any more," said Victoria.
We moved on.
"What a fine mess this all is," said Grandma Trudy. "And
I invited you all down here just for this."
"They were bound to get involved with boys some time,"
Tanya said. "Perhaps it's just as well it's all
happening right where we can see it."
"And Davie's a good lad," I added, "it could have been
much worse if he'd been somebody like your Luke whatever
his name was."
"O'Hara. Not a name I'm likely to forget." She sat down
with a sigh. "Pa shot him, you know, dumped him in the
river." We both gasped. "Pa and two or three of the other
men whose daughters had met up with Luke. That's why we
had to move out of the farm in such a hurry."
"Go on, Grandma!" I whispered. This was better
entertainment than television. They didn't do things by
halves in the old days!
"Well, anyways, I started working at Harringtown, at the
soda fountain, and everybody in the town used to come by,
and I'd chat to them all. I knew everything that went on.
And there was this guy, Mark. I suppose you'd say I took
a fancy to him. And one night, we went to a dance. At the
Elks' Club, it was. And everything was just fine, until
*she* came along. Wendy Sherman. Wendy Sherman got what
she wanted," Grandma Trudy said bitterly. "And she wanted
Mark ...!"
Chapter 10:- Kippers In The Dark
Suzanne waited until Pansy stopped chattering. Then she
deliberately made herself wait five more minutes,
counting the seconds under her breath. Her cousin was
breathing deeply now. Suzanne got up and crept to the
door, watching Pansy's bed. There was no movement. She
slipped out.
There were some grapes downstairs, in a bowl in the
sitting room. The whole house was creaking as Suzanne
slunk down the stairs. It was a good thing the place
wasn't haunted, or she would have been dead scared. A fox
was yapping in the distance, and a dog barked a warning
in reply. Then, much closer, an owl hooted. Suzanne
stopped, frozen to the spot, her heart thumping. She
placed her hand on her chest, somewhere beneath her left
boobie. Was that a ghost? Ghosts always went 'whoooo'
like that. Didn't they? She thought of scuttling back up
the stairs to the bedroom again, but if the ghost was
outside it might come in and follow her up the stairs.
She froze, summoning up her courage, and the moon came
out, shining through the glass of the front door.
At least, with the moonlight, she could move again. She
reached the bottom of the stairs and went through into
the sitting room. The moon was gleaming through the lace
curtains. Quick, there was the fruit bowl, where she had
seen it earlier. She grabbed at the bunch of grapes, and
shot back to the hallway. Then up the stairs, and
straight on up to the next floor, the servants' quarters,
as they called it. Why quarters? Suzanne didn't know.
Funny word.
This was Davie's room, the one with the door open a
little way. She put her head round it. Empty? Must have
gone to the loo, she thought, and went in. I'll wait for
him here. Really ill people always like grapes. Even in
the middle of the night. Here he comes, now.
Footsteps were coming along the landing. And low voices,
whispering. Davie can't be talking to himself! Two of
them? Something made Suzanne realise it might be better
if she wasn't discovered standing here. Hide! Where?
There was a wardrobe. It was a tight fit for her, but she
pulled the door closed as far as it would go. It touched
the tips of her breasts and squashed her erect nipples as
she buried herself in the shirts and sweaters hanging
there. Davie's things. The thought excited her.
Two shadowy figures crept into the room. Davie was one,
the other one wore a nightie, it was a girl. No, it was
bigger than that. His mother? Maisie? Then she recognised
Clarrie's voice. So, Clarrie had come to visit him as
well. I hope she hasn't brought grapes. Even really ill
people can have too many grapes.
But Clarrie hadn't brought grapes.
Suzanne watched in the dim moonlight as Davie climbed on
to his bed, and Clarrie climbed carefully on top of him!
Were they having a fight? In slow-motion? Strange, they
seemed friendly enough. Clarrie was sitting on top of
Davie, pinning him to the bed, bouncing up and down. I
bet that hurts, thought Suzanne, especially when you're
really ill.
Whatever they were doing was obviously hard work. Clarrie
was starting to moan and groan, and Davie kept making
grumbling noises, hardly surprising with that great big
woman leaping around, sitting on his tummy. And she
thought she could see a bit of sweat on Clarrie's face in
the moonlight. Golly, if it was such hard work as that,
why didn't they stop?
Clarrie showed no signs of stopping. If anything, she was
working harder. She began to yelp at regular intervals,
one yelp to each bounce, until she hovered above poor
Davie, before plunging down with a scream which echoed
round the room. In fact, the whole house must have heard
that one. Certainly, the whole house shook. Clarrie was
no lightweight.
Davie was in a position to agree. "Shhhhhh, for fuck's
sake!" he hissed. Clarrie only moaned in reply, then bent
over and poured soft wet kisses on Davie's face.
At least, she's sorry, thought Suzanne. But it's a bit
late now. The young girl was half crouched in the
wardrobe, and it was getting a bit cramped in there.
Cautiously, she tried to stand up straight. Her head
bumped into the rail crowded with coathangers. They
jangled musically, and she grabbed at them.
"Fuck was that?" said Davie.
"Nothing, lie still, boy."
"It was the wardrobe," he said. "There's somebody in the
*wardrobe*!"
"How could anyone get in that little thing?" Clarrie
asked scornfully. "You hearing ghosts, now? Bad as those
young kids down there, you are, hearing ghosts all
night." She kissed his face again. It sounded like a big
wet one. "Oooh, yes! Dav-eee!" murmured Clarrie.
Oh, no, thought Suzanne. There they go again. Why does he
let her do it? Davie, as a matter of fact, was beginning
to wonder very much the same thing. Half an hour later,
when Clarrie had stopped bucking and lay panting on his
chest, he spoke in a pained voice.
"Christ, Clarrie, you've really crushed my balls, honest.
I bet they're bleeding, get off, and let's have a look!"
His lover only giggled, and humped violently a couple of
times, making Davie grunt and whinny in pain.
Suzanne, indignant, was seriously considering leaping out
and dragging Clarrie off him by force.
"Clarrie, darling," wheedled Davie. "Can't we try it the
other way for a change?"
"The other way? Corrr, you adventurous little bugger! I
never thought you had it in you. Which way do you fancy,
then?" She ran through her catalogue. "Doggie?
Missionary?"
What was the girl talking about, Davie wondered. Dogs and
missionaries. All he wanted was for Clarrie to do it to
him the other way. Bloody hell, if little Victoria knew
about it, you'd think big Clarrie would.
"Oh, please, Clarrie, do it the other way ..."
"All right then, just this once. And I wouldn't do it for
anyone else, mind!" She rolled off him and lay on her
back, her legs apart, thrusting upward with her hips in
an experimental manner. "Come on then, lover! FUCK me!"
"What? How can we do it if you're lying down there?" He
shook her arm and her big breasts wobbled like half
deflated beachballs full of goats milk. "Do it, we're
wasting time!"
"You don't know *what* you want, do you?" she complained.
"Well, you want it another way, you shall have it. Get up
and kneel facing this way ..."
Meanwhile, in the wardrobe, Suzanne was engrossed. At
last, she knew what the couple were trying to do. She had
heard a word she recognised from school. Most people only
whispered it, but these two spoke it in normal voices.
Anyway, they were going to FUCK. At least, it would make
a change from whatever they'd been trying to do before.
She watched the complex preparations, as Davie followed
Clarrie's detailed instructions. Somehow, he ended up
with Clarrie's powerful legs clasped around his waist.
After several minutes, there were theatrical sighs and a
fresh burst of instructions, and Clarrie kneeled facing
away from Davie, her boobies dangling down to rest on the
mattress. More humping and grunting, more instructions,
then Clarrie was flat on her back with Davie on top of
her. But the teenager was a good strong girl, and she
ended up in her favourite position, and made Davie pay
for his rashness by squashing his nuts once and for all.
"There. That's squashed the fuckers for you. You've got
five minutes to recover. I'm going for a piss!" and
Clarrie climbed off Davie's useless corpse and hurried
out of the bedroom.
Suzanne cautiously pushed open the wardrobe door. Time to
get out of here, she thought. She tiptoed stiffly to the
bed, where Davie was already snoring softly, placed the
grapes beside him on the sheet, and crept out. I'll
really have something to tell Pansy and Victoria in the
morning, she thought.
Suzanne's little head, brimming with new-found knowledge,
had no sooner touched her pillow than a blood-curdling
scream rang out. Lights came on all over the house, and
thunderous footsteps could be heard in the servants'
quarters, scurrying from Davie's room to Clarrie's. Then
an uneasy silence reigned once more.
Davie, meanwhile, had at last summoned up the courage to
get up off his back and identify the wet, soggy mess on
the sheets beneath his body.
"Grapes? How the bleeding fuck did a bunch of grapes get
in my bed? I don't even *like* sodding grapes!"
Suzanne was bursting to tell her cousins, but the chance
wouldn't come. She wanted to tell them both, and both
together. But when Pansy was available, there was no sign
of Victoria. And when she ran Victoria to earth after
breakfast, she couldn't find Pansy. Why was it, she
thought, when you had something as important as this to
tell, you had no-one to tell it to.
Clarrie had served the breakfast. She looked very fit and
well, no black eyes or visible damage. Davie, though, had
clearly come off second best. Suzanne saw him in the
kitchen, looking pale and tired. He was obviously really
ill. I wonder if he enjoyed his grapes, she thought, but
thought she'd better not ask him, not in front of his
mother.
It was nearly teatime before the three young girls were
finally all together in the same place at the same time.
They sat at the table on the terrace eyeing an enormous
cream cake, which Nana Trudy had made all by herself.
Four days of heavy eating had left the girls feeling
distinctly full, but they had no intention of passing up
a cake like that one.
Meanwhile, the three of them were alone at last. Suzanne
drew the other two closer to her.
"Guess what!"
"What?"
"Guess what I saw."
"What you saw?"
"Last night!"
"Last night?"
"You were in bed last night. You never saw anything, you
were asleep," Pansy accused her.
"Not all the time. After you went to sleep, I got up. And
guess what I saw!"
"What you saw?"
"I went to see Davie with some grapes."
"Grapes, what for?"
"Really ill people like grapes. They make them all
better. Anyway, I took them up to his bedroom ..."
....there were two horrified gasps...
.".. and I went in, and I heard somebody coming, and it
was Davie and Clarrie."
"Clarrie? How do you know that?"
"I saw them. I hid in the wardrobe. It was a bit small,
and it squashed my titties, but I could see what they
were doing. And guess what!"
"They were eating kippers," said Victoria confidently.
"No, I don't think so," said Suzanne, uncertainly. "No,
they got into bed and Clarrie got on top of Davie and
bounced up and down!"
"That's stupid! What for?" asked Pansy.
"I dunno, do I!" said Suzanne. "Maybe they were arguing
and Clarrie decided to sort him out. She's big enough.
Hey, she's enormous without her clothes on." She lowered
her voice. "She's got HUGE titties," she said, blushing.
"They're bigger than mine, even!"
"Was that it, then?" Victoria didn't want to hear about
Suzanne's titties.
"No! The best bit was after that, when they started
fucking."
"Fucking? Oh!" Pansy sounded shocked.
"Yeah! Fucking!" Suzanne savoured the word. "Davie asked
Clarrie to do it the other way, and she said, 'okay, fuck
me', and he did."
"You mean she sat on his face?" said Victoria with
disgust.
"No, why?"
"That's the other way," Victoria said.
"I wouldn't want anyone to sit on my face. Poo!" said
Pansy.
"Well, you have to, if you do it the other way, 'cos
that's the other way to do it, so there!"
"Well I'm not ever going to do it the other way then. I'm
always going to do it the same way. When I get married,"
Pansy was firm on that point.
Suzanne felt that her big scene had got out of hand. What
was all this business about sitting on people's faces?
Mind you, Pansy had a point. Bottoms were big, horrible,
stinky things. Why should anyone want anyone else to sit
on their face? Furtively, she slipped a finger into her
pants for a few seconds then sniffed it. Yes! Even mine's
stinky, she thought. That's it, then. I'll never do it
the other way. I'll do it the right way, whatever that
is.
Clarrie came out on to the terrace with more cakes, and
the three girls stared at her in a new light. Clarrie
shifted uncomfortably as three pairs of eyes followed her
every move. Can I help you to anything, girls? Go on,
then, dive in.
They did, taking three enormous slices of cream cake that
made Clarrie's eyes pop out. That was when Davie came
outside.
"Hi, girls. Hi, Clarrie"
"Hello, Davie," the girls chorused.
"Are you feeling better today, Davie?" asked Victoria
smarmily.
"Did you enjoy your grapes, Davie," asked Pansy, with a
triumphant glance at Suzanne.
Davie's eyes narrowed. What was going on here?
"Davie," said Suzanne, earnestly. "When I'm a big grown-
up woman, I promise I'll never sit on your face. We'll
*always* do it the right way, okay?"
Chapter 11:- Still Growing Girls
"We've been here, what is it? A week?" Tanya lounged
beside the pool, licking at an ice cream.
"Nearly ten days," I told her. "Time certainly flies ..."
."..when you're enjoying yourself! Well, those girls are
certainly enjoying themselves. They must be eating their
own weight in cream cakes every day. Look at them!"
I already had been. My Victoria and Pansy, topless as
usual, were cavorting on the other side of the pool. They
seemed so much bigger than when we'd arrived. You could
actually see how much they'd grown. Victoria was bigger
all over, breasts, waist and hips. Her thighs were
heavier. Pansy, too, must have been three or four inches
bigger round the waist, in only nine days! As for
Suzanne, words failed me. The child had certainly added a
few pounds, but it was all on her bust, all of it!
"We can't stop them eating," said Tanya, shaking her head
at the sight of her daughter. "They're going to have to
get some new clothes, I'm afraid. Underwear, too, and we
all know how much of a problem that is for them. I'd have
seen Mrs Cooper before we came, but who would have
thought they'd get as big as this?"
"We don't have a Mrs Cooper round here, though, do we? I
wonder if Grandma Trudy knows anyone?"
"I would imagine she would," Tanya laughed. If she
doesn't, I can't imagine who does!"
She did, of course. "I'll get Clarrie to give Sandy a
call, and we'll see what they need, honey," said Grandma
Trudy, "Sandy does all our bras; and our dresses, too,
when we need something a little special. That's Amy and
Clarrie, as well as me. We're what you'd call a valued
customer, and I can't wait 'til Sandy sees these kids!"
And we were all sitting around the garden next morning
when an open-topped lilac sports car scrunched down the
drive.
"Bloody hell," Tanya breathed, who's *this*?"
*This* was a gorgeous hunk of man in a lilac suit,
exactly matching the car. He was mincing delicately over
the close-clipped grass, carrying a small case. As he
came closer, he took off his wrap-around dichroic blue
sunglasses and ran a long-fingered hand through his thick
blond quiff.
Grandma Trudy came out of the house at that moment.
"Girls, I'd like you to meet Sandy!"
"Sandy?" Tanya's jaw had dropped as she looked from Trudy
to the hunky vision who now towered above her.
"Sandy," I confirmed. "Or possibly Alexander?"
"Alexander it is," he said, lisping only very slightly.
"My Sunday name. Sandy to my best friends."
"Sandy is a jewel," said Grandma Trudy. "The most nimble
set of fingers with a needle outside London. Did Clarrie
explain the problem," she asked him.
"All she'd say was that you wanted some new brassieres.
She didn't mention a problem at all."
"Well, it's not a problem as such. We just have a few
little girls who need new bras, is all!"
Sandy shrugged and smiled. If Madam wanted to pay top
prices for bras for little girls, that was all right by
him. The big American woman was laughing.
"Not *little*, I got the wrong word, there. Let's just
call them 'young' girls."
I could see the girls inside the house, looking curiously
out through the patio doors. I waved to them, relieved to
see that they weren't dressed for swimming, or undressed,
to be more precise. They wore their shorts and extra
large T-shirts. They came over, and stood in a row,
gazing at Sandy curiously. He looked back at them, his
expression faltering for the first time.
"I think I see what you mean, Mrs Pym," he said, shaking
his head.
"Can you do anything for them?" Tanya asked.
Sandy was slowly recovering his composure. "Oh, I'm sure
I can do something."
"Bras and swimsuits, Sandy," said Grandma Trudy firmly,
although Tanya and I both opened our mouths to protest.
"They've been eating rather too well this last week, I'm
afraid!"
And Sandy sat down, opened his case and produced a tape
measure. The girls were well used to Mrs Cooper, but not
to a man measuring them, even a man like Sandy, who
seemed to them to be more like a woman than most women.
"He was nice," said Pansy after Sandy had driven away.
"When is he coming back with our new bras and bikinis? I
can't wait.
Pansy *couldn't* wait. To my shame, when she had lifted
her T-shirt for Sandy to get the tape around her, I could
see that her shorts wouldn't meet around her waist, by
about four inches. A little roll of fat swelled over the
top of them. Even Victoria, who was tall enough to carry
the extra weight a little better, had obviously put on
about three inches around her waist, and at least an inch
on her womanly hips. But if I felt ashamed at my girls'
expansion, Tanya shook her head in disbelief whan
Suzanne's turn came to be measured.
Suzanne's bust had swelled by something like three
inches. It was obvious because she was wearing her best
bra under her T-shirt, and it took her and her blushing
mother quite a struggle to get it off. Her boobs were
practically exploding out of it.
We realised how much the girls had increased in size the
very next day, when Sandy brought along a whole picnic
hamper full of new bras and clothes for them. Outside by
the pool, the kids paraded round in their new bras,
before squeezing themselves into bikinis which made me
feel a little uneasy, just looking at them. At least, as
Tanya whispered to me, you have to admit it's better than
having them running around in just their panties. Which
was certainly one way of looking at it.
"Can we go for a walk after lunch, Mummy?" Suzanne stood
in front of Tanya, her hands clasped behind her back,
twisting herself from side to side and pouting slightly.
"We won't fall in the river again."
Clever girl, getting her answers in before Tanya had even
asked the question. Suzanne followed up her advantage.
"If we were to wear our new swimsuits under our tops, it
wouldn't matter even if we did fall in, would it?"
Excellent argument, Suzanne, I thought, get out of that
one, Sis! She didn't.
"You behave yourselves, then, understand?"
"Ooooh, we will, Mummy. Can Clarrie come with us, to make
sure we're good?"
"Well, I suppose so, if she's free," said Tanya,
surprised.
Clarrie was free, as it turned out. So was Davie,
naturally.
Davie had watched the whole thing from upstairs.
Realising he couldn't see the pool from his own bedroom
window, he had slipped along the passageway to Clarrie's
room. From the maid's window, he had been able to see the
girls trying on their bras and bikini tops.
And once Sandy had driven away, the girls slipped into
their new bikinis and plunged into the pool, their
breasts bouncing. They looked even bigger now, he
thought. Bloody hell, even little Pansy looked good
enough to ...
His lewd thoughts were punctuated in no uncertain manner.
"So this is where you get to when I'm downstairs, hard at
work!"
Clarrie crept up behind him and flung her arms round his
waist. "Ooooh! That's not the only hard thing round
here, either! Come on, lover, get your gear off and lie
down on Clarrie's little bed."
Davie had no choice in the matter. She manhandled him to
her bed and tipped him on to his back. The sheets and
pillows smelled powerfully of Clarrie. Davie's erection
throbbed afresh and Clarrie wasted no time. No time to
take her panties off, she slipped them aside and lowered
herself on to the boy. It was as if she'd never been
away, he thought, he had hardly recovered from last
night's efforts.
"Just a quickie, lover," Clarrie whispered, bending to
whisper wetly in his ear. "I've got to start getting
lunch ready." And the teenager briskly pleasured herself
on Davie's rigid column. "There you go," she said
happily, dismounting and tugging her panties back into
position, where they immediately became soaked and
transparent with leaking juices. "See you later," she
said, waving her fingers as she darted out of the door.
Davie hadn't really recovered when the gong sounded for
lunch. He went downstairs slowly and painfully,
remembering not to clutch at his aching balls as he
entered the kitchen.
"You can go for a walk with Clarrie and the girls this
afternoon," Maisie told him. "But no falling in the water
this time, all right?"
At least it would get him away from the bedroom, so he
wouldn't be grabbed and used again by the insatiable
Clarrie. A whole afternoon without being fucked loomed
ahead of him, and he brightened visibly. A whole
afternoon getting close to those delicious young girls in
their new bikinis. He could see them out on the patio
now, and began to get hard again.
Clarrie noticed. How did she do it, could she smell an
erection at ninety paces, he wondered. The girl found an
excuse to pass through the confined space between him and
the table, and she pressed her soft, warm and generous
bottom against him, rubbing up and down for a few
moments. She moved away half a second before Maisie
turned round. The housekeeper looked at the lovers
suspiciously, but saw nothing incriminating going on.
"Here y'are, Davie, love, get this down you, then you can
go and change into something respectable for the
afternoon. I don't know, those clothes look as if you
slept in them!"
They walked along through the long grass beside the
river. Davie swished at the tops of the cow parsley with
a stick. Clarrie had gone on ahead with Pansy and Daniel.
Victoria and Suzanne had fallen into their usual
positions, one on each side of Davie. They both pressed
against him, and he gazed from one to the other in
amazement. Both wore T-shirts over their bikini bras and
to the boy's fevered imagination, the girls' tits seemed
to be swelling before his eyes.
"We're wearing our new bikinis, Davie," Suzanne told him,
in case he hadn't noticed. "Look," she said, cupping her
breasts and offering them to him like a sacrifice. He had
to look away. It didn't help.
"We'd all grown so much this week," Victoria said. "It's
Nana Trudy's food. All those cakes and things! We're
getting huge!"
"Mummy said it's all going straight to my boobies!"
Suzanne confided, loudly. "I sneaked a look at the tape
measure when that man Sandy was measuring me. It said I
was forty-five inches! That's five inches bigger than
Victoria," she said, completely without malice.
Davie was finding walking more and more difficult. He
tried to rearrange the contents of his shorts, to
Victoria's interest.
"Golly, Davie, are you getting a hard-on again? Is it
because of us talking about our boobies? Is that what's
making your thingie all hard, Davie?"
"Why should that make him hard, Victoria?" Suzanne asked,
bemusedly.
"We're only talking, not sitting on his face."
"Nor eating kippers," added Victoria, who was by now
fully convinced of the aphrodisiac properties of smoked
herrings.
Davie shook his head. These two were really weird, he
thought. Always going on about sitting on people's faces
and eating kippers. Perhaps there was something in what
Victoria said. He would have to ask Clarrie if she could
bring some kippers from the kitchen next time they did
it. The thought of doing it made his cock feel tired, and
it slumped a few degrees. Surreptitiously, he tucked it
into a more comfortable position. To his horror, he felt
a small hand helping him.
"Let me do that," Suzanne giggled, "there, is that
better? It's not so hard now, should we talk about our
boobies and make it hard again, Davie?" Both girls looked
up innocently into his face.
"No," he croaked, stopping and sinking to the ground on
his stomach.
"Look," he pointed desperately into the water. "There's a
fish!"
"Is it a kipper?" whispered Victoria, enthralled.
"I don't think so," said Suzanne. "That one's silver,
kippers are brown."
"And you can't smell it, either," Victoria said with more
certainty.
"If it was a kipper, you'd be able to smell it from
here."
Davie, meanwhile, had slipped his hand gently into the
water. The girls fell silent, watching him, as he slid it
closer and closer to the fish, pausing for seconds at a
time. Breathlessly, they looked on as he gently slipped
his hand beneath the fish's belly.
"He's tickling it," whispered Suzanne, enthralled,
bending closer.
"What for?" Victoria wanted to know. Then she found out,
as Davie's hand came out of the water, the little fish
resting on his palm, suddenly wriggling in his grasp as
it realised its fatal mistake. Suzanne threw up her
hands in delight just as the fish escaped and dived
neatly into the girl's yawning cleavage.
"Aaaaaaagh! Gerroff!" Suzanne leaped to her feet and
clutched at her bosom, plucking the shirt away from
herself. The fish refused to lie still, twitching between
the plump spheres of her breasts. Suzanne capered around,
trying to reach down her neck, but there wasn't really
enough room in her bodice for her hands as well as
everything else that was in there. The fish was lodged
head first in the front of her bikini bra, and it was
panicking. So was Suzanne. Inevitably, as she hopped
around, she got closer to the river's edge.
"Look out, Suze!" shouted Victoria. Too late. For the
second time in a just over a week, Suzanne went head over
heels into the water, closely followed, as usual, by
Davie. They sploshed around as Victoria screamed,
bringing Clarrie, Pansy and Daniel running to the scene.
They clambered out to safety.
The fish had escaped.
Chapter 12:- Tickling
"Well, with any luck, she won't fall in the river again
today," Tanya said, sitting on a towel by the pool. With
a smaller towel, she wiped the droplets off her arms and
the outside of her thighs.
Grandma Trudy watched her. "You'd better take that shirt
off if you're not going in the pool again for a while. It
will soon dry in this sun."
"I suppose so. I'm just not used to sitting around half
naked."
"If you're topless, Tan, it's a good deal more than half
of you that's naked," I told her, and she stuck her
tongue out at me, the way she does. But she grasped the
bottom of the clinging T-shirt and disentangled it from
her breasts, before pulling it up and over her head. We
watched as she spread it on the hot ground. Steam rose
almost immediately from it.
"Wow, Tanya," Grandma Trudy stared at her, "I just can't
believe those titties of yours!"
Tanya was drying the tops of her breasts, and peering
around them to get at the sides.
"Here, let me do that, Tan!" I went and knelt beside her
and she handed me the towel gratefully. "Lie on your
back," I told her, and I dried her chest and stomach
carefully when her breasts cascaded to lie on each side
of her body. It reminded me of the old days, and nights.
"Sandy will be bringing your new bikini tomorrow," said
Grandma Trudy.
"He's very quick."
"I can't imagine what you're going to look like in a
bikini, Sis," I said, tickling her in the ribs.
She squirmed, and her tits heaved like a pair of white
whales. "So long as it keeps these things pointing in the
same direction as I'm swimming, I'll be happy with it."
We fell silent for a few minutes as I dried around her
panties and inner thighs. She obligingly raised one knee,
then the other one in turn. Her eyes were closed. Was she
remembering the way we used to do this, as I was?
"How are the kids doing at school?" Grandma Trudy asked,
as if she needed to say something to break the spell.
"Victoria and Pansy are getting on all right," I said,
"now the other kids don't tease them so much. Victoria
straightened them out."
"I wish someone would straighten them out for Suzanne,"
sighed Tanya.
"Doesn't she go to the same school?"
"No, we live too far away, and I can't drive a car. For
physical reasons!" she added quickly when Grandma Trudy
looked surprised.
"We were thinking about having a private tutor for
Suzanne, until she's old enough to go to a big school," I
said, spreading the wet towel out to dry. Tanya's tits
are big enough to make a towel very wet.
"Oh, Sis," she complained, "you know that's a no-no. I
can't get a tutor for Suze. She's going to have to
survive the way she is. Although he's going to hate it
all the more after this holiday with the others."
"Especially if she carries on growing the way she has
this week!" I said.
"It's as bad as that, is it?" Grandma Trudy looked
thoughtful.
"She comes home in tears most days," said Tanya, sitting
up with an effort and hugging her knees. It wasn't easy
for Tanya to do that, as her breasts had to hang down on
each side of her chest, where they rested on the ground.
"Why couldn't she stay here?"
"Here? For school?"
"Kind of. There's a friend of ours. Retired school
teacher. She retired early, she's not old. She retired to
look after her mother, and the lady died a couple months
ago. It's just possible Judy Thresher would jump at the
chance to do a bit of teaching again."
"It would be great, and it sounds like it would give her
something to do ... but, Gran, I really can't afford it.
She would want far more than I've got."
"Honey, I don't want to interfere with Suzanne's
schooling, or take her away from her loving mother, but
if, as you say, she's so unhappy at school, don't you
think it would be a good thing?"
"There's no doubt about that, but ..."
.".. in that case, why don't I call Judy and see how she
feels? Suzanne, too. We've plenty of time to think it
through. And Tanya, if the answer's 'yes', the money's
not a problem, okay?"
Tanya was looking at Grandma Trudy. She rolled on to her
hands and knees and crawled over to the older woman like
a great big baby, except that her breasts were dragging
along the ground. She sat next to her.
"I'd miss her so much! But if she was happy, and
learning, and not being teased every day by thoughtless,
cruel kids ..."
Grandma Trudy held her arms out and hugged Tanya. It was
a pretty amazing sight!
At least, this time, Suzanne wasn't naked. As her T-shirt
hung on the bush to dry, the girl lay on her back in the
sunshine, and Davie tried to avoid looking at her.
Without success. She seemed to be everywhere his eyes
went. Lightly supported in her bikini top, the kid's
mountainous breasts were magnificently plump and full,
and hardly sagged at all, not like Clarrie's. But then
Clarrie rarely lay on her back, she preferred it on top.
Davie was glad he hadn't worn his jeans, his shorts would
dry much more quickly. Meanwhile, Clarrie had insisted
that he couldn't be naked in front of the girls, so she
had given him her panties to wear. Davie was outraged.
"I can't wear those!" he stormed. "They're for girls."
"Not just any girl, lover, they're mine!" Clarrie
murmured, threading the damp little garment on over his
feet and easing them up his legs. They were far too
large, even with their elastic waist, Clarrie being about
a foot bigger than the boy round the hips. But somehow,
he managed to fill them, and Clarrie's nearness, combined
with the painful sight of the recumbent Suzanne, meant
that Davie found it necessary to lie on his stomach to
hide his erection. There was another reason for his
erection, too, although it worried him. He found it
incredibly exciting to be wearing a girl's knickers. And
when he thought about it, and realised that if he was
enjoying wearing girl's knickers, there must be something
wrong with him, and even THAT thought made him excited!
It was so confusing.
Clarrie lay beside him, so he was between her and
Suzanne. Victoria sat on a tuft of grass and watched them
all.
"It's a pity the kipper got away," she sighed.
"Kipper? What kipper?" said Clarrie.
"Davie caught a kipper in the river," said Suzanne,
"didn't you, Davie, and it dived out of his hand in
between my titties. Head first." She peered down into her
cleavage as if she thought it might still be hiding down
there somewhere. There was room for a whole shoal of
them, Davie thought, and groaned aloud.
Clarrie sniffed. "Kippers live in the sea," she said,
with all the assurance of a young woman who worked in a
kitchen. "It must have been something else."
"A salmon," suggested Pansy.
"No, salmon live in cans," Suzanne said with certainty.
"It wasn't in a can."
"I still think it was a kipper," said Victoria. "You
could have taken it home for your supper, 'stead of
throwing it down Suze's bra. You and Clarrie could have
eaten it in bed."
"While she was sitting on your face," laughed Suzanne,
and the cousins rocked from side to side for joy.
"Why are you always going on about sitting on people's
faces, you kids," Davie whined at them. "You're obsessed
with sex, you are."
"No we're not!" shouted Victoria.
"What's sex?" Pansy asked.
"It's sitting on people's faces," said Suzanne, getting
to her feet. Quickly, taking the boy by surprise, she
grabbed his shoulder and turned him on to his back. "Like
this!" she shouted, and she hovered over Davie for a
second or so, before flopping down. In fact, she sat down
a little harder than she intended, finding balancing
rather difficult, and Davie was effectively snuffed out.
"Get off him, you'll break his nose. Or suffocate him,"
Clarrie gasped.
"*You* didn't," said Victoria, "so little Suze won't.
She's only half as big as you. Well, her bottom's only
half as big, anyway. Her top's nearly the same size," she
said, finding to her surprise that it was closer than she
had imagined.
Davie wriggled, unable to escape from beneath Suzanne. He
might have managed it, but he began to realise he didn't
really want to. His struggles died away, although he made
a token adjustment of position until his nose was
comfortable.
Suzanne seemed to be enjoying it, too. She moved her hips
experimentally, and felt Davie twitch beneath her. It
went very quiet.
"Is he dead?" Pansy asked, with interest.
"He can't be, he's still moving," said Victoria, "look!"
Clarrie was already looking. The bit she was looking at
was certainly moving, as if it had a life of its own. She
badly wanted to take it into her mouth and swallow as
much of it as she could, but surrounded by nosy kids, she
wouldn't be allowed to get away with it. She let go of
Davie's prick reluctantly, having grasped it without
thinking.
"Was that nice, Clarrie?" Victoria wanted to know. "Could
I hold it for you?"
"For me?"
"Well, could I hold it for Davie, then? Couldn't I just
HOLD it?"
Victoria obviously wanted to hold it.
"I don't think it would be a good idea, Victoria," said
Clarrie.
"Why not? Suze *sucked* it the other day!"
"Oh, yuck," said Pansy, "don't keep reminding us of
that!"
Clarrie looked at Suzanne, who was taking no part in the
conversation. Her eyes were closed and there was a smile
on her face as she knelt astride Davie's face, moving
languidly. Davie was throbbing away oblivious to
everything but the amazingly fragrant little bikini pants
which filled his horizon. Not like Clarrie's bottom at
all, exciting as it was; Suzanne smelled like fresh
sweat, and sweet cookies, with just a hint of cheese. He
took a deep breath. He was in no immediate danger of
suffocation, although all the time he was getting closer
to drowning.
"Ooooh!" Suzanne sighed, opening her eyes very wide for a
brief moment, then closing them again. She said it again,
"Ooooh!"
Clarrie sighed and sat back. Twenty seconds at the most,
she thought.
Clarrie was never one to stand in the way of another
girl's orgasm. Her estimate was correct to within two
seconds. Clarrie knew about such things. While the other
girls looked on in concern, Suzanne's movements became
more urgent, her moans built up to little cries.
"Suze?" said Victoria.
"Zanne?" said Pansy.
"Ooooh, Davie!" moaned Suzanne thoughtfully. A well
brought-up girl, her first thoughts, despite the
intensity of her feelings, were for her partner. She
climbed off, and stood up, flexing her knees. "That felt
nice!" she said to Clarrie. "I think I know why you do it
now."
"So glad," said Clarrie, shakily.
Davie still lay on his back, shuddering.
"He doesn't seem very happy," Victoria said, "do you
think *he* enjoyed it, too?"
"I think it's time we went back home," said Clarrie,
"fetch your clothes, Suzanne. And bring Davie's shorts.
He can't go home like this." She needed Davie alone, as a
matter of urgency. The poor boy had been left in a state
of deep need. And so had she.
"Here they come," I said, "they look dry enough from
here."
"Davie looks a bit muddy," said Tanya. "So does Suzanne's
shirt."
Pansy, as ever, took on the role of courier. "Mummy!" she
cantered up to me, with Daniel bounding along behind her
like an adoring puppy. "Guess what? Suzanne fell in
*again*!" She sighed heavily. "I simply don't know *what*
we're going to do with her!"
Victoria and Suzanne were dragging along, taking their
time. Clarrie and Davie had gone straight into the house,
Clarrie leading the boy by the hand. If I hadn't known
better, I'd have imagined she was dragging him along. The
door closed behind them.
"It's good to see Clarrie looking so relaxed and casual,"
said Grandma Trudy, with a secret smile. "When Sir
Roger's here, she has to wear her uniform all the time."
"Her *uniform*?" said Tanya.
"Oh, you wouldn't believe it! I'll tell you what. It's
cruel, and we shouldn't do it, but I'll tell Maisie to
make the girl wear her uniform to serve dinner tonight.
Then you'll see!"
"It sounds intriguing," I said. It did.
"Oh, it is! Just you wait 'til you see her! Now then,
what's been keeping these two?"
Victoria and Suzanne finally reached us.
"Has Pansy been telling tales again?" said Suzanne,
defensively.
"She said you'd fallen in the river again," I said.
"Nothing else?" Victoria asked quickly. Too quickly.
"What else should she tell us?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing happened, anyway."
"And if she did say anything else happened," said Suzanne
helpfully, "it's all lies!"
<end 3/4>
From: acotto@gate.net (Anthony Cotto)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Grown-up Girls, Part 4 (4/4) (big breasts, yng
teen)
Date: 4 Dec 1995 17:01:55 -0500
Message-ID: <49vr4j$11g2@navajo.gate.net>
THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!!
I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to
remain anonymous.
Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the
author.
GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog
WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of
age who have no objection to reading about young women's
breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of
fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of
the events described in this story actually took place,
to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are
described as taking place between adults and minors. No
young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you
get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you
find it.
None of the characters in this story is real. Their
names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are
fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or
dead, is unintentional.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have
appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's
Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before
elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United
States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young
mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers
as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again
in the next episode of the same saga, four years later.
(She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form
at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were
clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the
story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't
yet any more to tell. Well, we lied. Authors, living as
they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often.
Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years
later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older
sister.
GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog
Part IV
Chapter 13:- Clarrie At Your Service
We were all in the sitting room, glowing with the heat of
the day. The girls were playing cards on the rug.
Occasionally, voices were raised, and even the odd fist.
We watched them fondly. They were certainly taking no
notice of the grown-ups talking.
"You know how you told us about the shy guy with the
stammer, Gran?"
Tanya said.
"Oh, Mark? Mark Bryant, was it? Or Mark Collins? It's
been a long time. Yes. Him and Wendy Sherman! I don't
want to talk about what I did to them later. It would get
me into trouble. But you remember how I went to stay with
my brother and his wife. Every time I see these kids
eating the way they do, it reminds me of the time when I
was in Minneapolis with Tim and Martha."
"I couldn't eat a thing when I arrived, just picking at
rice, salads and stuff. They were both trying to get me
to eat more, but nope! But, then, I don't know what
happened, but Tim was showing me an old chest of clothes
and stuff in the attic. And there was one of my old bras
in there. Must've been from when I was no more than
twelve? Anyways, I tried it on. Oooh, it was a perfect
fit around the chest, but I had nothing to put in the
cups at all. Well, I couldn't believe how it had ever
been mine; my memories had completely gone ..."
"And your mammaries, too," said Tanya, softly.
.".. yep, those too. But that was when Tim first told me
about Pa and what he and the other men did to that Luke
O'Hara, and how we had to get out of the farm. And it was
like a load was lifted off my back, all of a sudden. Bits
of memory started to come back. Slowly, but I started to
remember things again, but this time, it was all right,
you know? 'Cos Luke O'Hara wasn't coming back. Ever!"
"And I started eating. Oh, these kids coulda' learned
from me! I ate nearly a whole cake one night. Brand new
cake, and by the time little Trudy had done with it,
there was one slice left. I should have finished it off
and acted innocent, but Martha and Tim were so pleased I
was eating again, they started feeding me up like a prize
pig. And every bit of it went straight up here. Nothing
down here, or down here, all up here!"
"I shot right back up to fifty-six inches in two months!
And even after that, though I slowed down, I still
carried on growing and eating and eating and growing,
even after I went off looking for a man. I went off
looking for a man, and I found Roger!"
"And of course, he said I reminded him of his Mummy! Only
his Mom was even more so than me, 'cos right then - I was
still putting on weight up top - I guess I was no more
than fifty-nine or sixty inches when we got married, but
by the time we landed at Southampton and went just down
the road to Bournemouth to meet his folks, I was up to
more than sixty four inches. I know that, because I had
to buy a new dress for the occasion, and I remember
telling the dressmaker I'd been as big as this before I'd
even reached my twelfth birthday! I tried to tell her all
American girls were as big as me, and I still think she
half believed me!"
A gong sounded somewhere out in the hall.
"Dinner is served, girls, kids!" She hardly needed to
tell the kids, they were almost tearing the door down to
get into the dining room. "You watch their faces," she
whispered to us, "when they get to see Clarrie in her
uniform! Now, you sure you're all ready for this?"
I thought I was, but the sight of Clarrie in her uniform
made me gasp.
My jaw hit the table. The girls were staring at her in
astonishment.
They couldn't believe her.
"Sir Roger makes her wear this gear?" Clarrie had brought
out the bread rolls and undulated back into the kitchen.
"He insisted on it, right from when Clarrie first started
here. What do you think of her?"
"She's incredible! She looks twice as big. Up top, at
least, where it matters. Her waist isn't! She looks as
though she's going to snap in half!"
"That's what Roger likes. He prefers to be surrounded by
girls that remind him of his Mother. Clarrie's not as big
as his Mom was, but trussed up like that, she's not far
off!"
The maid came back in with a stack of plates, placing
them in front of each of us. The girls never took their
eyes off her. As well they might. Clarrie was a big girl,
as you will have gathered by now. Her broad hips were
squeezed into the most microscopic skirt I'd ever seen.
Her legs looked endless in black stockings. Her legs were
certainly longer than the stockings, because you could
see the tops of them, and even the suspender belt that
held them up.
"Thank you, Clarrie," said Grandma Trudy. "You look
stunning as usual."
"Thank you, ma'am!" blushed Clarrie, with a little
curtsey, and went back into the kitchen again, her high
heels clicking on the parquet, her hips swaying
extravagantly. Grandma Trudy winked at us and we started
giggling. Once we started, we couldn't stop. Tanya nudged
me and spluttered into her napkin. Clarrie was coming
back in again, but if she noticed us giggling - and she
could hardly miss it - she didn't show it. I looked at
her more closely. Was her skirt even shorter?
I didn't see how it possibly could be, but now an inch or
two of creamy thigh was visible above the tops of her
stockings. Her blouse swelled out from an improbably
small waist - certainly at least six inches smaller than
Clarrie's usual almost thirty inches - to an incredibly
swollen bosom, somehow compressed into a bursting,
straining white blouse. A pert little black bow tie was
echoed by the black ribbons which tied her hair into two
swinging pony tails which danced around her meaty
shoulders.
It was my turn to nudge Tanya, and I pointed at Clarrie's
skirt, just as she bent over to serve Grandma Trudy. We
stared into the cloacal darkness beneath the maid's
skirt, and realised as we exchanged glances, that Clarrie
wasn't wearing any panties. We could certainly see where
they ought to have been, and they simply weren't there!
Each time Clarrie disappeared into the kitchen, she
seemed to come back subtly changed, each time in a
different way. Her skirt became shorter. Her waist became
even tighter, buttons began to come undone, as if by
accident, then more of them, until twin piled-up mounds
of creamy breast became visible in the gap at the front
of her blouse.
"If your necktie is too tight, Clarrie, you may take it
off!" said Grandma Trudy, smiling at us again. Clarrie
nodded and bobbed again.
"Yes'm!" she said quietly. Next time she came in, the bow
tie was gone, and the top four buttons of her blouse were
undone. On successive visits, more and still more breast
was revealed, until the whole of her platform bra was
visible, with her breasts resting on the quarter cups
like unbaked cottage loaves. Her nipples seemed to stick
out further each time, until by the end, they were almost
out in the open.
"It's all a game," said Grandma Trudy when the maid was
out of the room again. "Clarrie knows the rules. Roger
and her, they play it all the time, with one or two
variations. When she does it particularly well, and
thinks of some new and creative idea, she gets a special
reward! No reward this time, though. Poor Clarrie!
Although, somehow, knowing Clarrie, I don't think she'll
go short of affection while Roger's away!"
Tanya and I looked at her in surprise, but Grandma Trudy
wasn't saying anything.
What we didn't know, and couldn't see, was that Davie was
in hiding, and was right at the centre of the action. The
door to the kitchen passed through a short passageway.
Davie lurked out there, positioned so that he could be
certain of catching a glimpse of young Suzanne every time
the dining room door opened. At the same time, Clarrie
passed him twice on each of her journeys to and fro.
She made a point of doing the trip as often as possible,
pausing briefly to rub herself against Davie each time.
He gave her breasts a rub and a squeeze, or slipped a
hand up between her hot thighs. No wonder the girl was
almost panting by the time she had cleared away the
pudding dishes and served the coffee.
"Thank you, Clarrie, that will be all," said Grandma
Trudy approvingly, and Clarrie shot out of the door,
almost undressing as she went. If we'd listened
carefully, we might have heard two sets of footsteps
thundering up the back stairs to her bedroom, which was
five yards closer than Davie's.
It had even made Tanya and me hot, just watching the
oversexed serving girl going in and out. For all we knew,
Grandma Trudy could feel the urge, too. I preferred not
even to think about the kids getting aroused by it, but
remembering what Tanya had been like at their age, there
could have been no doubt about it.
"Time to get ready for bed, soon, kids," I told them.
"Off you go and have one more game of cards, we'll see
you shortly, okay?"
"All right, Mummy. Can Clarrie kiss us goodnight
tonight?"
"Well, I don't know, Clarrie's been working very hard,
she might be resting."
"She might have gone to bed," said Grandma Trudy, more
accurately, with a wink at me.
"She can't go to bed before *us*, she's a grown-up,"
Victoria pouted.
"She gets up very early in the mornings, honey! But I
will ask Clarrie, and if she's asleep, I'll come and give
you a cuddle, if you're extra good."
That seemed to satisfy them.
"She'll be in bed all right, but maybe not her own!"
Grandma Trudy whispered as soon as the kids had gone.
Tanya looked puzzled. "You mean she's gone out on a date?
She's only been gone five minutes and she won't have had
time to get bathed and changed."
"She won't have gone anywhere, no. And knowing young
Clarrie, she won't be too bothered about a bath first.
No, and I think you won't find young Davie anywhere at
the moment, either!"
"Davie?" I asked her.
Tanya knew what I was thinking. If Davie was getting sex
lessons from Clarrie, how much of his new-found knowledge
was he passing on to Victoria and Suzanne?
"Is Davie shagging Clarrie?" Tanya asked in hushed tones.
"Shagging? Hey, I love that word. No, if anyone's
shagging anyone, it's Clarrie who's doing the shagging! I
caught them at it the other day. It's no good trying to
stop them, it wouldn't work. You can't stop Clarrie
needing sex a dozen times a day. The only danger is that
she'll wear young Davie's dick away completely before
Roger gets back! But if she's keeping him busy, he won't
be so keen on chasing after your lot. Still, it might be
worth keeping an eye on him, he's a growing boy!"
At that precise moment, Davie wasn't growing, he was
shrinking; ten minutes after Clarrie, still in her maid's
outfit, mounted him just inside her bedroom door. They
had never even made it as far as the bed, although while
the boy was still recovering, Clarrie lugged him to his
feet and heaved him on to the well-worn mattress. Then,
finding herself with a few minutes of enforced free time,
she undressed, leaving her uniform in a dank pile on the
floor.
She stood, looking down at Davie, who was still panting
like an exhausted dog. She massaged her breasts, looking
critically at the marks left by the bra. Her nipples
pointed at Davie like fingers of accusation. She reached
down between her legs and stroked herself with her
fingers, up and down, up and down; then wiped the
moisture on the outside of her thighs. Slowly, as he
looked up at her, Davie found himself becoming a new man.
Clarrie had that effect on people. She never failed to
surprise Sir Roger, even at his advanced years. The old
boy could still give his Trudy a good seeing-to when
necessary, but Clarrie was different. He had told her so,
in one of the many long pauses in their love-making.
Davie was quicker, and more frequent, whereas Sir Roger
made it last half the night and only did it once. It
takes all sorts, thought Clarrie, philosophically.
Grandma Trudy poured the last of the coffee into our
cups.
"That's just about all there was to it. As I say, I met
Roger and we were married, then we arrived in this
country, and I met his folks. I was scared, of course."
"What were they like?" Tanya stirred her cup, even this
little movement causing ripples in the soft swells of her
upper breasts. "I mean, we've seen these photos, but they
don't show much."
"No, they don't," Grandma Trudy agreed, turning the pages
of the album. "It's as if whoever took the pictures
didn't want to show too much of Mrs Pym's figure! And
there was certainly a lot of it to show. Look at this
one."
The photo was taken on a beach, and showed Sir Roger's
mother in a bathing suit. Apart from the fact that her
bust measurement seemed to be at least twice as big as
her hips, it was difficult to see much detail. The shot
was blurred. Infuriatingly blurred!
"I wish you could see more, but these are all the
photographs we have. Roger had told me when we first met
that his mother was much bigger in the bust than me. To
be frank, I hardly believed him, but when I saw her, I
realised he was right. Those things were enormous!"
"She was bigger than you, yet you had a sixty-something
inch bust?"
"Sixty-four, honey, but she made me look as if I was
going instead of coming. Looking at you, Tanya, I can see
where you get your boobs from. She was as big as you. Oh,
yes, she was middle aged by then, but if she was as busty
when she was younger, she must have been staggering to
look at. As you are, darling! Hey, I just thought of
something."
We sat forward, intently. When Grandma Trudy said
something like this, it seemed it was always something
spectacular!
"You know how when I was staying with Tim and Martha in
Missouri, and we looked through that old chest in the
attic ...? Roger has some boxes in the spare room, and he
said they were old things of his mother's. I have never
looked through them, but he wouldn't mind, I'm sure.
After we've seen Judy Thresher tomorrow, why don't we
take a look in the spare room? There might be some
interesting things in there!"
It sounded like the best idea we'd heard for some time.
All girls love a dressing-up box. But a dressing-up box
full of clothes which would fit someone with tits the
size of Tanya would be a rarity indeed.
"Yes, please, Gran!" breathed Tanya.
"All right! Now, let's round up these kids and get them
tucked up for the night."
Chapter 14:- Another Busy Day
"Judy's coming by this way, so she said she'll drop by in
half an hour." Grandma Trudy looked excited at the
prospect of Suzanne having her very own private tutor.
Strangely, in this amazing summer, the sun wasn't
shining; there was even a hint of rain in the air. The
girls, nonplussed, seemed to have forgotten that the sun
didn't shine all the time.
"We can't go out in this weather, Mummy," Pansy
complained, as if the weather was all my fault.
"Of course you can, darling. It's not winter all of a
sudden. It's still warm enough to go outside. Go for a
walk or something."
"We can't," Victoria moaned. "Davie isn't here."
"You don't need Davie to go for a walk. You know your way
around by now."
Davie hadn't appeared that morning. Clarrie had served
breakfast, looking fresh and rested. To my relief, she
wasn't wearing her maid's uniform this morning. I don't
think I could have stood another performance like last
night's. Even in her skirt and shirt, Clarrie seemed to
ooze sex. I watched her coming and going, telling myself
that she had been screwing young Davie all night long,
that she had been out of bed collecting the eggs before
six o'clock, and probably back for another session with
Davie before breakfast.
Eventually, with a chorus of complaint, the girls and
Daniel made themselves ready to go out.
"It's hardly worth it now, Suze," said Tanya. "Miss
Thresher's going to be here in half an hour, and I'd like
her to meet you. Okay, then, off you go, sweetheart, but
be back here by ten thirty."
"All right, I've got my watch," said Victoria,
efficiently. "We'll be back."
And off they went.
>From his bedroom window, Davie watched the kids as they
set off across the fields, laughing and skipping. Despite
his gruelling experience of the night, he felt himself
becoming aroused yet again, and shook his head in
disbelief at his own prowess.
Judy Thresher didn't look like a schoolteacher. At least,
not like my image of a schoolteacher. "Call me Judy," she
said, as soon as we met. She was about forty-five, I
suppose, a bit older than Mum. But she looked younger,
with long, silky, dark red hair swinging around her
shoulders. Her figure was slim and curvy - by normal
standards, that is - although any of the women around
here made her look flat-chested. She made a little joke
about it as she met Tanya and me. Grandma Trudy explained
roughly what we wanted.
"I could certainly handle the work, and Trudy, as you
say, the money would be handy. But what about Suzanne?
She's the one that matters here. You say she's not happy
and she'd being teased at school. Do you know why?"
Tanya looked at me and we both laughed nervously. "See if
you can guess when you see her. She's due back any minute
now."
Judy looked at us, glancing down at our breasts. "How old
did you say Suzanne was?"
"She's eight."
Judy started to say something, then thought better of it.
"We'd hoped to find her a tutor for a couple of years,
and when she's ten, to see if we can get her into a
boarding school."
She nodded. "Did you have anywhere in mind?"
"We'd thought of St Catherine's High School for Girls, do
you know it?"
"St Cat's?" Judy laughed. "Oh yes! I know it. In fact, I
applied for a post there, but they've just had a fire and
they don't seem to have sorted themselves out yet. A bit
... eccentric ... you could call them, but an excellent
academic record. Always have been excellent, right up
there at the top of the results league."
"So you'd recommend it, then? We've got some cousins who
went there.
Twins. They've done well, despite some difficulties at
the end."
"Difficulties?"
"Yes, they both got pregnant! But they still got A's, and
they're off to University as soon as the babies have been
weaned, maybe next year."
"Hmm. Strange about them getting pregnant. Quite a few of
the girls did, all at the same time. I said they were a
bit of an eccentric school! One or two other oddities
about the place, too, although perhaps Suzanne will fit
in perfectly. We'll see!"
"Yes, we'll see," said Tanya. "Here they come now."
The kids came straggling in through the patio doors. As
usual, Pansy took the lead. "Mummy, Suzanne didn't fall
in, today." She sounded genuinely disappointed.
"I'm glad about that, Suze," said Tanya, "this is Miss
Thresher, I'd like you to meet her."
"Hello, Suzanne," said Judy, gazing at her in amazement.
"Hello, Miss. Are you a teacher?"
"You can tell, can't you!" Judy laughed. "Yes, I'm a
teacher all right. Of a sort, at least."
"I wish I had a teacher like you," said Victoria, to my
surprise.
"So do I," said Pansy.
"Here, it was me she wanted to meet, not you lot,"
Suzanne complained, feeling left out.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all, girls!" said Judy. "In
fact, I'd be delighted to meet you again. All of you!"
"Can we go and change our T-shirts, Mum?" said Victoria,
hopping up and down. I think she wanted to go to the
toilet more than anything.
"Come straight back then, and see Miss Thresher before
she has to go."
And off they went.
Tanya looked at me. "I suppose you're not thinking what
I'm thinking?"
"As usual, yes!"
Grandma Trudy was there ahead of us. "Is this telepathy,
you two? You're thinking about Victoria and Pansy coming
here as well, aren't you?"
We both nodded. I felt somehow close to tears at the
thought. Victoria and Pansy away in Herefordshire for two
years? And Suzanne, too. Yet it would be an ideal
grounding for the girls before they went to St Cat's.
Tanya and I were both convinced that the girls would go
to Cat's, but the idea of them coming here to share a
tutor was breathtaking. Talk about killing three birds
with one stone!
"It's a great idea," said Judy, "provided the girls are
happy with it. Three's a small enough class, after all,
even if they are different ages."
Grandma Trudy beamed in delight. "I'm sure it will work.
Even if we have to make arrangements to transport girls
or mothers around the countryside every couple of weeks,
we can make it work."
"Let's ask the ones who really matter, shall we?," said
Tanya, a little shakily. She wiped her eyes with her
hanky. So did I.
"There'll be a few things we need to work out," I said to
Grandma Trudy.
"I know, honey, and we won't rush into this until
everything is properly sorted out. I think I know what
you're going to say. Let me guess! How about ... Davie?"
"Got it in one," Tanya laughed. "I suppose I shouldn't
laugh, it could be deadly serious, but I can't help it
whenever I think of Davie being a horny little stud who's
out to ravish our daughters. Poor little wimp, he is, I
reckon Clarrie is wearing him out."
"You're right, honey. He'll need watching if the girls
are going to be here all the time. And we know, if
Clarrie's his type of girl, young Davie likes his women
with big ones! And your three certainly have big ones!"
"What about Sir Roger, Gran?" I asked.
"That's different. I think Sir Roger is going to have to
do as he's told for a change! Seriously, when he comes
back and finds your kids in residence, it will be too
late to do anything about it. But I think, knowing my
Roger, that he will be the proudest great granddaddy of
them all. Especially when he sets eyes on those three
little beauties. Don't get me wrong. He screws Clarrie,
sure - and he does it rather well, unless my ears deceive
me - but it would never occur to him to try anything with
your girls. Trust me on this one."
"Do you think we're doing the right thing, Tan?" I said.
"I think so, they'll get better schooling in two years
with Judy than they would if they stayed where they are
now until they were twenty-five!"
"Right. I just wanted to hear you say it. Perhaps we
ought to speak with St Cat's before we go any further. It
would be terrible if the girls set their hearts on going
there and then found they couldn't get in."
"Feel free to use the phone," said Grandma Trudy. "And
after that, we're off to the spare room. We have an
appointment with some old clothes."
We certainly did. Within five minutes of opening the
first box, we had Grandma Trudy's mother-in-law's clothes
spread all over the floor.
"I certainly see what you mean," I said. "She was
gigantic, wasn't she!" We all nearly collapsed laughing
as Tanya struggled her way into an evening dress. It was
a bit loose around the waist and hips, but almost a
perfect fit around the top.
"There you are, then, Sis, the old girl had a ninety-inch
bust all right. And not all that much bigger than me down
below, either."
We rummaged some more. "Here's a bra!" I shouted, holding
it up. It was a vast thing, with cups bigger than buckets
and about twenty hooks at the back.
Tanya whooped for joy. "Here, help me into it!" she
cried, climbing out of the dress and holding out her
arms. We got her all tucked up inside the thing.
"How's it feel?" I asked her.
"Great! It's a bit stiff, the material. And the shoulder
straps need adjusting, but it doesn't half support my
knockers! It ought to, of course, it weighs a ton and a
half."
"Well, so do your knockers, Tanya dear."
We played for an hour, the three of us, like schoolkids.
When we came downstairs, we proudly carried a selection
of trophies with us. Tanya had her enormous bra. I had
found a lovely silk blouse, not too big for me, and
Grandma Trudy carried a portrait painting of her mother-
in-law which showed her in all her considerable glory.
"Roger's tried to describe this painting to me so often.
What a slice of luck finding it in the bottom of that
last box. Well, it's having pride of place in the sitting
room, over the mantelpiece. I'll hang it there tonight!"
At last, we all relaxed, ready for our tea.
"I don't know what Mum's going to think when she gets
back," I said, "an awful lot seems to have happened,
especially today."
Again, we didn't see everything that happened. While the
three of us were trying on Great Grandmother Pym's
finery, who should be passing the door of the spare room
but Davie. He got an eyeful of Tanya, naked apart from
her pants, while Grandma Trudy and I heaved and strained
at the laces of a pretty serious-looking corset, seeing
how small we could get Tanya's waist. I can't tell you
how well we succeeded, she asked me not to reveal it!
Davie is into corsets, we now know. How long he watched
is anyone's guess. But eventually he slunk away to his
room, where he was interrupted ten minutes later by
Clarrie.
"I've been looking for you, you randy little sod, and
you've been in here, wanking yourself to a frazzle. Come
on, get your hand out of the way and let a girl have a
seat!"
No peace for the wicked, Davie found, yet again.
"What do you think of the idea, 'Toria?" said Suzanne.
"It's great. I can't believe Mummy's letting us do it.
Just think, two years without going to school!"
Pansy wasn't so sure. "We'll miss Mummy a little bit,
though, won't we?"
"Course we will. But just think." Suzanne's voice became
dreamy. "No school, no nasty, rotten kids teasing and
shouting after us down the street and on the bus. And
...!"
"And ...?" said Victoria.
"And Davie. Every day!"
Pansy bit her lip and blushed. "Oh, Zanne! Are you
thinking what I think you're thinking?"
"I don't know," said Suzanne simply. "How do I know what
you think I'm thinking?"
"You're thinking about sucking his thingie again, aren't
you? And sitting on his face!" whispered Pansy, crimson
faced with shame.
"I might be," said Suzanne. "It felt nicer than I thought
it would. Not sucking his willie. That was just tasty,
like food. No, sitting on his face felt nice. In fact, it
felt quite funny. But a nice funny, if you know what I
mean."
"I think *I* know what you mean," said Victoria. "You
mean it felt like *that*!"
"Like what?" Pansy wanted to know.
"You mean, like when you touch yourself down there?"
Suzanne asked, her eyes bright.
"Yes!" said Victoria, quietly.
"Down *where*?" Pansy almost shouted.
"Don't tell her, Suze!" Victoria said. "She's not old
enough to know that sort of thing."
"But I'm three months older than her!" Pansy wailed.
"You know what I mean" growled Victoria with menace.
Suzanne knew what Victoria meant.
Chapter 15:-
"You mean, they won't be coming home with us when we go,"
said Mum.
"No, they'll come home until the end of the school
holidays, and then they'll come back here in time for the
start of the new term. We'll have them at home for a
couple of weeks before they go."
She looked doubtful. "What about the arrangements? You'll
have to tell the council authorities, and everybody. You
can't just take children out of school at a moment's
notice."
"All done, Mum," said Tanya. Been there, done it. I've
spoken to the school, and the authorities. They wanted to
know Judy's details, but it's all in order. It'll be
fine, Mum!"
"What about Victoria, she's older than the other two."
"Judy says it's not a problem. With only the three of
them, they'll all have individual tuition all day long.
It will be great for them."
Mum sighed heavily. "I suppose so. I just hope you
haven't forgotten anything that will get you slung in
jail. What does your Paul think about it?"
"I spoke to him. He backs me up; whatever I do is right
by him."
Tanya spoke up. "Mum, you haven't even *asked* what the
girls think about it?"
"What do they know, at their age?"
"Oh, Mother, they know a lot more than you think!"
What a summer that was. I suppose it must have rained at
least once, but I can't actually remember it ever
happening. The kids played by the pool every day, it
seemed, and went for walks, and fishing, sometimes with
Davie and Clarrie, sometimes all on their own. And they
ate as if cream cakes were going out of fashion.
Fortunately, they stopped piling on the extra pounds.
They seemed to reach a fighting weight and stay there,
despite how much they stuffed themselves with food. Which
was certainly a relief. But all good things come to an
end, and it was getting closer to the time we would have
to go home.
"You're all right," I told Victoria, when she tearfully
complained.
"You're coming back here in a couple of weeks!"
"But you won't be here. It will be just like going to
school."
I knew what she meant, but she'd soon get used to it. So
would Pansy. But all four kids cried their eyes out when
we finally piled into the car ready to leave. The
household had lined up to say goodbye.
Grandma Trudy kissed Tanya and me, and hugged Mum.
"Once Roger's heard all about you coming to see me, he
won't be able to resist it any longer, especially when
hears about the kids. He'll invite you back down here
like a shot, you'll see."
Maisie held Davie's shoulder, but he wriggled free and
came over to the car. He held a formal hand out to
Victoria, but she flung her arms around his neck and
hugged him.
"We'll see you soon, Davie, we're back here in a
fortnight!"
"I'll still miss you. All of you," he said, turning to
Suzanne and receiving a hug from her, too. Pansy waited
patiently for her turn, then throwing her arms around the
boy's neck, she planted a not very expert but obviously
sincere kiss on his mouth. Davie responded nobly,
crushing Pansy against him in a determined way until the
other two girls dragged them apart.
"That's enough, Pan!" shouted Victoria. And Clarrie came
forward to pull Davie away.
"Bye, girls," she said. "I'll miss you, too, but I'll
look after Davie for you 'til you get back!"
Yes, I thought, she probably would.
We drove away, leaving the big house bathed in sunshine.
The four figures waved, and started on their way back
indoors. I wondered what they would be getting up to. The
place would certainly be a lot emptier without us lot.
"Davie's nice, isn't he!" said Pansy.
For the rest of the journey, bursts of giggling kept
breaking out from the back seats.
The next two weeks were all taken up with packing and
getting the girls ready to move out. It seemed horribly
final. We had to be fairly strict about what they were
taking with them.
"It's no good taking all those old bras and bikinis with
you, Pansy.
They're never going to fit you again now."
"But Mummy, they're my favourite ones. I might get
slimmer and they'll fit me again. If I don't eat too
much, of course."
Of course.
In the end, we pruned their baggage down to one huge
suitcase each. "Clarrie has to wash and iron all this
stuff, remember. You've got to leave the poor girl some
free time."
"Oh, that's all right," Victoria said airily. "Nana Trudy
can get another maid to help."
"Then Clarrie will have more time for Davie," Pansy
added, considerately.
"I suppose so," I agreed.
And off we went. A clean break, we'd decided. Tanya had
wanted to stay for a few days, but we talked about it and
decided to go down on the Monday morning, leave the girls
and come straight home.
"It will be the best way," I tried to persuade her. "If
we don't just turn round and leave straight away, we'll
never summon up the nerve to do it."
And that was the way it was, although the girls were
howling miserably as Judy led them indoors, Clarrie had
her hankie to her eyes, and Tanya and I were blubbing on
and off all the way home.
"Whose stupid idea was this?" wailed Tanya as we turned
into our parents' drive.
Meanwhile, back at the big house, the tears were dried.
The girls unpacked and settled into their old rooms. They
went with Judy and saw the school-room, a spare drawing-
room at the back of the house. The window looked out on
to open fields and the distant Welsh hills.
"If I catch any of you staring out of the window," said
Judy sternly, "I will know I'm not doing my job properly,
and then you'll be for it! So be warned."
"Yes, Miss," the girls chorused in subdued voices.
"Right, I'm off home. School tomorrow at nine sharp. A
good night's sleep, all of you. I'll bring your books and
everything in the morning."
"Sir Roger will be home tonight," said Trudy as soon as
the girls came out of the schoolroom. "I just heard, he's
at the airport."
"Will he be pleased to see us?" Victoria asked.
"He'll get a shock!" said Suzanne.
"More of a pleasant surprise," said Trudy. "But I managed
to warn him we've got some young visitors. I didn't tell
him any more than that. Now, one of you, Pansy. Can you
run upstairs and tell Clarrie she's wanted in the
kitchen. Tell her Sir Roger's coming home tonight,
that'll make her move herself."
"All right, Nana," said Pansy and sped off.
"You two, come and lay the table. One or two little
chores every day, that's all you'll have to do. It will
save Sir Roger having to take on an extra maid! Although
I'm sure he wouldn't object," she said to herself.
Pansy clattered up the back stairs and along the landing.
She banged on Clarrie's bedroom door. No reply. She
opened it, and looked round. Clarrie wasn't there. Back
out in the corridor, she listened. Was that a noise from
Davie's room? She found herself tiptoeing toward the
boy's room, and paused outside, her fist raised to knock.
The door was open an inch or two, and there was
definitely someone in there. She could hear voices, no
words, more like grunts and groans.
Quietly, she pushed the door open and peered inside, then
gasped in horror. Clarrie was facing away from her, in
the direction of the window. The big serving girl was
sitting on what Pansy could only assume was Davie, on the
bed. Not on his face, she saw with some relief. Clarrie
was bouncing vigorously up and down, with urgent little
cries. Whatever it was that was going on, Pansy found it
strangely exciting. She felt a funny tickly feeling, as
if she needed a pee. But she knew she ought not to be
found watching the couple. She backed out of the room,
retreated a few yeards down the corridor and shouted,
"Clarrie! Clarrie! You up here?"
The noises stopped. There was a pregnant pause. Pansy
called again.
This time, Clarrie poked her head round Davie's door. She
looked flushed and tousled. "Pansy!" she said in
surprise. "Did you call?"
"Yes. Nana says you're wanted in the kitchen straight
away. Sir Roger's home."
"Sir ROGER!" Clarrie burst from the room, forgetting she
was stark naked. "Where, here?"
"No, at the airport. But he's coming home tonight."
"Oh, whoopee!" the maid shouted, to Pansy's surprise. She
planted a kiss on Pansy's lips - it tasted of kippers,
the realised - and bounced into her own room. Pansy
shrugged, and went downstairs.
"She's just coming, Nana," she said.
"I was worried about that," said Trudy, and went back to
rummaging through the store cupboard.
The girls weren't quite in bed when Sir Roger's cab
arrived, but they were in their rooms. Clarrie was
fussing around them, making sure they were all ready for
bed. The maid seemed flushed and excited, her nipples
were sticking out through her blouse despite the
restraint of her heavy duty bra. Her lips were wet and
her eyes strangely bright.
There was the sound of a car in the drive, and Maisie
opening the front door. Clarrie dashed out of the room
and left Suzanne and Pansy sitting on their beds in their
nightdresses, which were extra large T-shirts.
"She's in a hurry!" said Suzanne, getting up and going
over to the window. "Oooh, look! He's here!"
Pansy hurried across to join her. "Golly! Is that him. Is
that a Sir?"
"No, that's the taxi driver. There's Sir Roger, there,
getting out of the back seat."
"He looks ordinary." Pansy sounded disappointed. I
thought he'd be wearing a crown or something.
"No, he's only a knight."
"Well, armour, then. Knights wear armour."
"Not all the time," said Suzanne. "They don't wear armour
on airplanes. It would be too hot."
"Well, when *do* they wear it. Maybe he puts it on when
he gets indoors."
"Nana Trudy must help him. It must be hard work getting
undressed for bed," Suzanne mused as she sat on her bed
again. "Must be ever so heavy to put on a coat hanger."
"They have extra strong coat hangers," said Pansy,
confidently. "We did knights in armour at school."
"So did we! Hey, I wonder if he'll come and see us when
he's dressed!"
"We'd better get into bed. We'll hear him coming up the
stairs. He'll clank!"
So when Clarrie came back into the room, the girls were
tucked up in bed, quivering with excitement. She kissed
them on their noses and left with almost indecent haste.
"We've got some guests, Roger." Trudy said at last, when
Clarrie had clopped out of the room on her high heels,
her hips swaying dangerously. Roger watched her go with
raw hunger in his eyes.
"Yes, you mentioned that. What's it all about?" He kept
looking out for Clarrie to come back, but the maid was
obviously allowing the tension to build up. In fact, at
that moment, Clarrie was doing exactly the opposite. She
was bringing herself off in the scullery, pressing her
crotch against the washing machine as it went into its
fast spin cycle.
"You remember I told you, a long time ago, about your
little great granddaughters? May's daughters' little
girls?"
Sir Roger's expression became more severe at the mention
of his wayward daughter's name.
"We don't talk about that any more," he said stiffly.
"May's daughters dropped by while you were away," Trudy
went on, doggedly. "And they had the girls with them.
They're quite grown-up now."
A flicker of interest crossed Sir Roger's face. Then he
seemed to do a little mental arithmetic. "Grown-up, they
can't be more than four or five, woman!"
"Erm, the girls started their families quite young. The
kids are eight and ten now."
"Thought you said they were grown-up." His eyes wandered
off again.
Where is that Clarrie?
"They are, honey." She stood up suddenly and went to the
mantelpiece.
"Look, your mother's portrait."
"Where did you find that? I'd looked everywhere."
"Not in the last box in the spare room. It was right at
the bottom.
But look at her, Roger. Tanya is the spit'n image of your
mother."
"Tanya?" he said, perking up once more.
"May's younger daughter. And Tanya's little girl takes
after *her* mother."
"She does? And she's here?"
"They're all here. Three of them. Judy Thresher's going
to teach them
their lessons in the back drawing room. They're here for
two years
..."
"Hey, hang on! Wait a minute! Wait ... a ... minute!"
Trudy waited.
"Two years? What's wrong with their own school. Judy
Thresher? Here?
Oh, Trudy, this is ridiculous!"
"Oh, Roger, I only did it for you!" Trudy sat next to him
on the couch. "I thought, Roger would like to have some
really big-busted young girls about the place for a
couple years. Just to look at, mind you, they're only
eight and ten! No funny business! Not with his own great
granddaughters. Just something to cool off Sir Roger's
knightly ardour. I mean, Clarrie won't last for ever if
you're going to keep fucking her every night! Or is that
what 'knightly' means in your case?"
"Clarrie? Me? You mean ...?"
You mean, do I know?" Trudy laughed at the expression on
her husband's face. "How could I not know? But it's all
right. I knew what you were like before I married you.
And I knew what Clarrie was like before you employed her.
She's a sweet child. A bit of a raving nympho, but a
sweet child."
"But...!"
"I'm not going to stop you and Clarrie making love, or
whatever it is you do. And meanwhile, your great
granddaughters are going to school here for the next two
years. Simple!"
The door opened, and Clarrie came in with the coffee.
"Sorry I took so long'm" she said with a little bob. "I
got side-tracked in the scullery. A little trouble with
the washing machine."
"All better now, Clarrie," Trudy asked with a knowing
grin.
"Ooooh, yes'm! Much better now!"
"I'm so glad to hear it, my dear. Now, are the girls
asleep?"
"They were in bed'm, a while ago. Nearly asleep, I
shouldn't wonder."
"Sir Roger would like to see them. Down here, darling, or
in their rooms?"
"Er, ah, um, in their rooms, I suppose."
"Well, then, let's go. What are we waiting for? Clarrie!
Lead the way."
"Two minutes'm. I'll just make sure they're awake.!
Clarrie had brought a sleepy Victoria into the younger
girls' room. The three of them stood blinking at the
light in a row by the dressing table. Clarrie checked
them over, brushing their hair out of their eyes, tugging
at their nightdresses.
"Right, here he comes now," she hissed.
"I can't hear him clanking," said Pansy, drowsily.
"Perhaps he's been oiled," Suzanne said, giving her a
nudge. Victoria stared at the youngsters. What were they
on about this time?
The bedroom door opened. Nana Trudy stood there beaming.
"Girls. Allow me to introduce your great grandfather, Sir
Roger Pym.
Roger, meet Victoria, Pansy, and Suzanne."
They stood and stared at each other, open-mouthed.
The girls were thinking Sir Roger wasn't as great as all
that. Their grandad was bigger than him. And come to
that, what about the armour, then? Swizz!
And Sir Roger was thinking he had never seen three such
enormously-developed kids in his life.
"Trudy, you're right, as usual. These three are most
welcome. I hope they have a happy two years' schooling.
And I think it's time we organised a bit of a grand
family reunion. After all, we do seem to have a bit of a
grand family!"
Trudy hugged him, and Clarrie beamed in the background.
"It's all right girls," Sir Roger said, "What's more, I
think your mothers ought to visit you as often as
possible. And maybe your grandmother, too." And as the
three little girls giggled and nudged each other, he took
Trudy in his arms and hugged her tight. She grinned at
them over his shoulder.
Clarrie sighed.
"Yes, I think that *will* be all for tonight, Clarrie,"
said Trudy. "Off you go, and have a good night's sleep!"
She beckoned the buxom serving wench to come closer.
"Make the most of it. It might be the last good night's
sleep you get for some time," she whispered with a sly
wink.
"I'll do my best, ma'am!"
THE END