SEX SLAVES OF EAST LONGSHOTT DOWN by Infidel Dog Authors' note: This story is a fantasy, involving the kidnapping of young teenagers for the pleasure of a Middle Eastern Pasha. The Pasha is not a cruel man, but his sexual appetite is not easily satisfied, and, when it comes to girls. he has a number of preferences as to their physical characteristics. He is rich enough to carry out a program of enhancement to the girls in his harem to make them meet his requirements. To Western minds, the Pasha and his tastes would be seen as perverted, kinky and sick. We prefer not to judge the man by Western standards, but offer this account as a semi-fictional documentary record of the doings of such a man. Please remind yourself constantly, in his land, his behaviour is considered normal and reasonable. If you object to scenes showing young girls being exposed to situations which Westerners would find intolerably humiliating, read no further. If you are below the age of consent in your community, delete this material at once. As this story is a semi-documentary, and much of the material comes from a Middle Eastern employee of a harem, there is a great amount of information about weights and measurements. This is unavoidable, but can easily be ignored by the reader who is more interested in the narrative. Weights and measurements in this story are presented in metric units (metres, millimetres, kilograms and litres etc) as they were presented to us by our correspondent in the Middle East. If readers wish to convert these to US or Imperial units, we advise them to have a means of conversion or a pocket calculator handy. We have not included the equivalents in inches, pounds and fluid ounces, to avoid unduly cluttering the text. 1 centimetre (cm) = 0.3937 inches 1 kilogram (kg) = 2.205 pounds 1 litre (l) = 2.113 US pints, or 1.76 UK pints 1 metre (m) = the length equal to 1,650,763.3 wavelengths in vacuum of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the levels 2p to base 10 and 5p to base 5 of the krypton 86 atom (as every French schoolboy knows) Also, as every British schoolgirl knows, one stone = 14 pounds SEX SLAVES OF EAST LONGSHOTT DOWN by Infidel Dog Chapter 1:- Hassan's Story - Part One My name is Hassan. It is not my real name, not the name I was given at my birth, but it is the only name you shall know me by. My story is a strange and bizarre one. It contains many things which will seem alien, even repulsive to Western ears. It will be told not only by myself, but by a second narrator who was in a position to observe much more than I. We must be grateful to that story-teller for making it possible for this tale to unfold. I serve a master, a great Pasha. I would serve none other. Even though in recent times he has regarded me with less than cordiality, I hold him in the deepest respect. His whereabouts are unimportant, in fact I am sworn not to reveal them. The reasons for that will become obvious later. My master owns a harem. Nothing unusual in that, you tell me, for do not all Pashas own harems? What is perhaps unusual is the nature of this harem, a nature which is due to the ... how shall I put it ... the special *partialities* of my Pasha. Let me start at the beginning. I was one of a family of four brothers and five sisters. Our father was the village chief, our village being several days journey from the sea you know as the Mediterranean. Because of father's position, he was able to afford many women and girls, and many others were given to him as gifts by the villagers, perhaps in return for certain favours. I lived with my brothers and sisters in the back hut of our dwelling, and my first memory of my father was of him coming into the hut and making his choice of the young girls there. His particular delight was in young girls, well-developed young girls. I think - in fact, I am certain - that my father's fondness for such creatures was passed on to me. It was with the curiosity of a seven-year-old that I first made the effort to discover what went on after my father had taken girls away. Between the back hut and the main dwelling was a single wall, not thick, but solid. I took a sharpened piece of metal and made it my chosen task to drill a hole through the wall, to observe what occurred on the other side. It took me several days and nights before the crude implement broke through and my labours were rewarded. With my eye pressed to the hole, I was able to see my father and mother, and two of the most beautiful young girls, aged about thirteen. They were, I think, daughters of one of the families in the village. It made me shudder as I saw my father's huge organ, so much bigger than my own, and I was filled with wonder as the first of the girls was brought to him, and instructed by my mother. My father lay on his back, and the girl, her black skin glistening with sweat, was told to sit on it. How she screamed as the mighty rod of flesh drove into her. I could not believe that it could all fit inside her youthful body. After some time, the girls changed places, and the first girl sat on my father's face, while the second one received him into her, and she, too screamed piteously. Later, my mother took my father into her bottom while the two girls, sore and exhausted, offered their swollen young breasts for my father to suck and fondle. Now, I knew why the young girls always looked so tired when they rejoined us in the mornings. When I was thirteen years old, the whole course of my life was changed. A wild elephant had been causing havoc in the surrounding villages, and the men of our village, led by my father, joined forces with others around to set forth and kill it. The women and children stayed behind, protected only by a few of us young lads. All was quiet in the village and I was about to take my customary afternoon nap when I heard strange noises mixed with the screams of women. I ran from the hut and saw a group of men on horseback. They were wearing white robes. Arab slavers! They had ravaged many villages in our country. I grabbed a long spear, with no clear idea of my intentions, but two of the men overpowered me and tied my hands behind my back. What really made me feel so humiliated was that they were laughing as they did it. Then they brought me to the centre of the village, where I joined the other youths. The slavers went through every hut and picked out all the young boys and girls. Clearly they were not interested in older women at all. Boys and girls between 10 and 15 years of age were what they were after. They brought us up in front of their leader. We wore only simple little aprons covering our laps. The older girls had their breasts suspended in wide pieces of fabric, the younger ones were topless. The chief slaver expertly sneaked his hand under each apron. In just a moment, he weighed the appendages of the boys; the girls received just a quick touch of his finger. He felt all their breasts regardless of their size and shape. He handled even the smallest budding titties. Obviously, I now know, the man was a connoisseur. He removed all the garments from the older girls so they were also topless. Some of the older women pressed forward, crying and begging to be allowed to go with their children, but the slavers forced them to go back to their huts. Finally we were chained together to form a slave caravan. The Arabs stole some supplies, mainly dry meat and fresh water. I looked around at the rest of our group and saw my 15 years old sister. Our mother stood in the front of our home, sobbing bitterly. She knew that she would never see her children again. And so I was kidnapped from my native village. I have never returned there. From the tales that were told in our village, I knew that I was going to be sold on a slave market to anybody who would pay for me. But I didn't have any idea where I was going to end up. There is much more of my story. This is just the beginning. I have little time to tell you the whole thing. One night, when the moon rides full above the golden desert, we will sit by the embers of the fire, and I shall tell you more. ********** For now, I have duties to perform. My daily duties have to be done, to please the Great Pasha, that he may reward me duly. I must attend the arrival of some new members of the harem. Lest you should be offended, permit me to explain. I would not wish to insult you by causing you offence. My master, as I have already hinted, at the beginning of my narrative, has certain proclivities. (I have learned much English since joining my master's employ). There are one hundred young females in his harem, never less, sometimes more. The Pasha prefers only a certain type of young woman. In a few well-chosen words, the younger the better, and the bigger her breasts the better. I must hasten to explain, before Westerners throw down this book in disgust, never to take it up again. In our lands it is not forbidden to admire young girls. We appreciate true beauty in all its forms, and we do not bind ourselves by artificial laws which forbid us to admire the works of The Creator simply because they have not yet reached a certain age. This is a view we would find laughable if it were not abhorrent. In my master's exalted opinion, the desirability of a female means first and foremost that her breasts must be large and well-shaped. He has devoted his time and his not inconsiderable resources to obtaining for himself the finest collection of young women ever brought together in one place. And if The Creator has left His work unfinished? My master, the Pasha, has employed the finest and most ingenious physician known to man, in whose hands even the least of young women may be permitted to grow more fulsome than one might dare to imagine. The works of the Pasha's physician are mighty indeed. In the fullness of time, we will meet many of them, and you will see for youselves exactly what I mean. Here, under this canopy, are six newcomers. On this occasion, they are all girls. My master also has a small but select collection of boys, and more of them anon, but let us study these girls, since they are here before us. The Pasha's harem contains girls from all countries of the world. Their skins are of every shade and hue. They are tall, they are short. Some are slim and waif-like, some are fat, some are enormously, impossibly fat. All, without exception, are large-breasted. They are brought to us by dealers who know what my master desires. They, in their turn, make their selection from the wares of other dealers. They can choose wisely and well, for they know my master pays generously. Today, we have six girls from several countries in the area you call the Middle East. Their ages range from sixteen down to eight years old. You may ask, and I can hear the scorn in your voice, how can my master choose girls of eight years of age, if his interest is in their breasts, for no girl of eight years can be large-breasted. Allow us to be the judges of that, if you will. Our expertise enables us to examine the wares brought to us, and to determine if these females, even the very youngest, have the potential to develop into large-breasted women in a few short years, or even, with the aid of the physician, in a matter of days! Today, the dealers have done us proud. All six of these girls will certainly be bought, and they will pleasure the Pasha immensely. But let us look more closely at just two of them: this one, the smallest in height and age, and this one, the oldest. They are being examined at the moment by Fatima, the Chief Matron, who will be responsible for the girls' welfare, and the Kizlar Agha, or Chief Eunuch. Remember these two important persons, for you will meet them again in my story. They are closely inspecting the smallest girl. They are pleased to see that although she is the smallest - see, they are measuring her height and she is no more than 125 centimetres tall - she is generously developed. More than generously! See how her breasts descend to well below her navel? Later, they will be weighed and measured most thoroughly. They cannot believe she is only eight, but the dealer swears to it, he knows her mother - a young woman whose breasts reach to her thighs - and she is only twenty years old! I like the look of this girl. Perhaps we would be wise to keep a watchful eye on her as my story proceeds! Or perhaps, *I* will keep an eye on her personally, and keep her to myself! They move on to look at the largest girl. She is very tall, almost 180 centimetres, and her breasts are huge, and firm, although as is natural considering their great weight, they rest on her stomach below her navel. It will not be strictly necessary for the physician to employ his special growth formula on these breasts, nor on those of the eight-year-old, although the Pasha may, if he desires, insist upon it. But there will be others who will require some of his ... gentle assistance! With the physician's special formula, and a special diet, even the most hugely-developed of these girls could easily triple the size of their breasts in a week! ********** But what of me, Hassan? Where do I fit into this world of succulent and desirable female flesh, hand-picked and gathered together for the pleasure of one man? It goes without saying that the presence of 'entire' males in these surroundings would quickly lead to mayhem; as these beautiful young girls, their minds focused completely on sex from sunrise to well after sunset; would become pregnant in their droves. The only men who can be allowed contact with the girls are eunuchs. For the uninitiated, I will explain the differences between the various types of eunuch. To do so, it will be necessary to continue my story from the point where my father's village was raided. After our capture by the Arab slavers, the women and children of our village were taken to a slave dealer. It was at his hands that we received a far more thorough examination than we had received before. The girls and women were led away separately from the boys. And although I was doing my best to behave as a man, I cried as I saw my sister for the last time. Chapter 2:- Le Camping "Do you spikk Eengleesh!" Basil Lashmore mopped his hair up to his receding hairline and tried yet again. "Bloody Frogs", he muttered in the direction of the camper van, from which his wife and family were now approaching, "Eengleesh! Do you spikk ..." "Ah, ze English, oui, but of course! Why did you not say soonair? And zis is your family, n'est-ce pas? Your lovely wife, your *lovely* children?" "Yes, of course. Look, we need, WE NEED to 'camp' for a while. A fortnight ..." Marcel's brow furrowed uncertainly. "Pardon ...?" "A fortnight! Two weeks. Fourteen days. Er ... quarante jours." "Quatorze should be long enough, dear!" Dawn smiled at the camp director. In rapid, slightly accented French she confirmed that there was space for them for two weeks, a camper van and a large tent. For the children. Marcel cast an eye over the children and smiled privately to himself. "The children will be in the big tent, oui?" "That's right, all of them", and Dawn riffled through her bag. "I can give you a deposit, if you would prefer it ..." "Ah, zank you, it would be most welcome. Two adults and four children, although the girls are very, how you say, grown-ups, n'est-ce pas?" Candi nudged Carolyn in the ribs and snickered. "He sounds like Inspector Clouseau", she whispered quite loud enough for Marcel to hear. Basil raised his eyes to the heavens. That Candi girl was going to be nothing but trouble. I wish I'd never said she could come. Dawn saw the warning signs and shook her head at Carolyn. "Let's go and start sorting things out for the tent", Carolyn said, grabbing Candi by the arm and leading her away. Her friend followed reluctantly, looking over her shoulder at the Frenchman who was gazing at her with pure lust. Or rather, decidedly impure lust. "God, the way he looks at you", the big girl said to Carolyn, "it feels as if he's undressing you with his eyes." God knows where she'd heard that expression. Lucinda gazed up at Candi. The ten-year old was at an age when she wanted to know everything there was to know about sex. Her blossoming figure was in marked contrast to Carolyn's, although her sister was three years older. The youngster's full breasts and pert nipples thrust firmly against her tight T-shirt, whereas the older girl was far slimmer. In different ways, they both took after their parents. Carolyn had her mother's slimness but not her breasts. Lucinda combined her father's shortness of stature with her mother's full bust. The one family feature they shared was their long blonde hair. Piers hurried after them. He had blonde hair, too, and a sullen expression. He was not enjoying his holiday at all, and he'd only been here an hour. He had not wanted to come to France. He wanted to stay at home, or with his friends. At the very least, he could have brought a friend with him. "Why not", he had demanded, when his father had refused his perfectly reasonable request. "There won't be room!" "There would be if that fat cow, Candi wasn't coming. Why should Carolyn have her school friend with her and I can't?" There was no answer. Carolyn had asked first, and Candi had been written into the plans from the very start. There was simply not enough room in the camper van nor the tent for an extra eleven-year-old boy. Piers was determined to be miserable for the entire two weeks, if possible. He looked like succeeding. He shouldered his way past Carolyn and into the camper. Candi made room for him without a word, and carried on tugging at the sack that contained most of the tent-pegs. It was on top of her personal bag, stopping her from getting at it. An extra heave set it free. She rummaged about and found a pink T-shirt. "Are you going to *wear* that", asked Lucinda in hushed tones, "gosh, it's ever so sexy!" It was Lucinda's word of the month. "Do you think so?" Candi breathed in deeply and held the skimpy T-shirt against her swelling chest, then gave an exaggerated wiggle of her broad hips that threatened to do serious damage to the seams of her jeans. Carolyn gazed at her friend in awe. She could be happy if she had tits a quarter the size of hers. Candi was plump, certainly, with wide hips, meaty thighs and a bottom charitably described as large. But her titties were immense, there was no other word to describe them. Well, there were plenty of words, and Carolyn had thought of most of them, but 'immense' was the one she kept coming back to. She wished hers were bigger. Not immense, like Candi's - there was no point in being greedy - but certainly large, like little Lucinda's! Piers sat on a pile of bags in the corner of the van. He had a sneer of disgust on his face as he watched Candi posing with the low-cut T-shirt. But he still wished the big girl would take her shirt off and put the other one on. Right there in front of him in the van. The thought made him feel all funny, and felt an erection growing. 'Oh, no! Not now', he thought, 'they'll make my life misery if they see it'. To think, not five minutes before, misery was precisely what he'd wanted his life to be. He wriggled his butt, managing to hide the bulge of his throbbing cock. Candi put the T-shirt down, and carried on with rummaging through her bag. But all the time she was rummaging, she made sure she stood so that she was sideways-on to Piers, and her enormous boobs were dangling inside her shirt like great fat ripe melons. Loud voices sounded outside and the Lashmores senior were returning to the van. "Hold tight, please, everyone, we're on the move", called Basil, like some sort of bus conductor. He crunched the van into gear and they lurched over the uneven grass to a quiet spot in one corner of the camp-site. "I asked Marcel or whatever his stupid name was for a place away from bloody foreigners, but I suppose it's too much to ask." They came to a halt. "Over there with the tent, you lot, it's quite flat. I suppose you know about erecting the thing yourselves...?" Carolyn shot a warning glance at Candi, who just smirked to herself, then grinned even more broadly at Piers, who went bright red. "No problem, Mr Lashmore, I'll supervise the erection", she murmured, reaching past him to take her bag out of the sliding door. Her breast crushed itself warmly and insistently against his arm and he jerked back as if she'd attacked him with an electric cattle prod. It was an hour before the Lashmore Site was shipshape and as Basil insisted, Bristol fashion. The kids were installed in the tent, where there was a small compartment for Piers, another for Lucinda, and a large one for Carolyn and Candi. The large compartment had the lamp in it and Piers lay on his mattress watching the hugely-distorted silhouette on the thin cotton dividing wall as Candi took her shirt off at long last. ********** "I wish we could have done without that girl", Basil was complaining. "Candi's all right", Dawn maintained. "She's a bit ... well ... forward, especially for her age, but she's an early developer. It's all show, you'll find. She's suddenly got this body and she's a bit overwhelmed with the effect it has." "She'll be a terrible influence on Carolyn, and especially Lucinda. It's not right." "What about Piers?" Dawn laughed. "I think he's probably noticed her as well, don't you?" "What do you mean? Piers isn't even twelve yet, surely he isn't going to notice ..." "He's growing up, Bas. He's nowhere near as advanced as Lucinda yet, but he'll need to know the answers to some questions before long. You'd better have the answers ready in case he doesn't quite get around to asking them! Speaking of which, I bet you've noticed Candi yourself." Basil blustered. It was what he did best. "Oh, come on, Dee, she's *twelve* years old!" She's *thirteen*, same as Caro, and in case you hadn't noticed, she's got a zonking great pair of forty-eight-inch tits under her shirt. She's probably not too bothered about keeping them there, either! Just watch out for her, and remember, she may look like a woman - a very sexy and an extremely well-endowed woman - but she's only a kid inside. And she's a long way from home. When she starts looking to someone for comfort, remember she doesn't *really* know what she wants yet!" Basil looked out of the window. The tent door was zipped shut. He could still feel the place where Candi had pressed her breast against his arm. Hard to believe that such a young girl could be so big. Forty-eight inches? Dawn should know about such things, being a woman. The rest of the kid was big, too. Dawn was fine, but a bit skinny, apart from her tits, and they were nothing compared to Candi's. He licked his dry lips as he thought of Candi, probably getting undressed for bed in the tent only ten yards away. He tried not to imagine her wriggling out of her jeans, then sliding her brief panties down those powerful legs, releasing the clasps of her tight bra, the heavy flesh wobbling massively as she brushed her teeth ... "Feel like an early night, darling?" whispered Dawn, suddenly by his side. "We could have a long, hard two weeks ahead of us!" ********** "Allo, Latif? Latif? Ici Marcel. I 'ave for you four more. Anglaises. Ingleesi. Perrrrfect! Oui. A whole famille, with their parents. Three girls and a boy. Oui. Two of ze girls are about thirteen, although one of them could pass for twenty. Tits out here somewhere ..." He remembered he was on the phone. "Very large, about 120 centimetres. Dark hair, almost black. Probably very hairy....." He remembered himself. "Of course, that wouldn't matter to you at all, would it? Non! I forget these things. I mean no offence! The other girl, maybe ten years old, but wiz ze big gazongas, oui? Non, bigger than that, even! Grapefruit. Large grapefruit. And then there's the boy. Blond. About twelve, say. All four. Okay! Another week or so, zey all sleep in the same tent. Ciao!" Marcel put the mobile phone down and peered out of the window of his shack. He had a clear view of the Lashmore's van and tent, especially with the binoculars. He almost fancied the big one himself, then he thought of the money. Four English virgins in one consignment. A good evening's work. ********** Latif slid down the ladder into the cabin, where a radio transceiver was already switched on. He selected a frequency, whistled briefly into the microphone to check the power output, then made a brief call in Arabic. An answer came back immediately, in Donald Duck tones which quickly changed to normal pitch as he adjusted the receiver. No more than ten seconds later, he said 'Roger'. There were a couple of clicks in response. It was done. Outside, the waves were steepening as the wind freshened. Twenty minutes from the little harbour, and not before time. ********** At police headquarters, Dubois took off the headphones and rubbed his eyes. A long evening, but something to report at last. He pushed at the door to le Patron's office. It creaked. "Entrez, Dubois, what news?" "Marcel again. His tongue always runs away with him. Talk of four English kids, in about a week. Do we grab him this time?" "It's not *him* we want, it's the rest of them. Marcel we can pull in any time. Put a tail on him. Double the watches, record his phone calls, including the mobile. This time, as soon as he makes his move, we'll bag the lot, Latif, or whatever his name is, as well." Dubois went out. He finished his coffee and shook his head. Not another lot. Last month, three German girls had slipped through their fingers. Good job this was undercover work or there would have been all sorts of shit hitting the fan. The last thing he wanted this time was an English parent on his neck shouting for justice, liberty and fraternity. He'd better get Sergeant Matisse on the case, get him to tie everything down solid. It was ten fifteen. Late again, for a change. Chapter 3:- On The Beach It was two days later, and Marcel again observed the Lashmore Site through his binoculars. Yesterday, driving into the town he had seen a white van following at a distance. It would not have registered with him as at all unusual except that he had once owned a similar van himself and had sold it his friend Demongeot. He had pulled over and waited to see if it was his friend, but the van had turned off. Five kilometres later, it was behind him again. Getting edgy, he thought. Seeing phantom policemen. But the van turned left when he did, then disappeared. Marcel was troubled. He slowed down, and went round the block. At the first right turn, a blue 505 followed him, three cars back. He turned right again, and the Peugeot went straight on. But when he looked in his mirror, it seemed to have been replaced by a yellow Clio. When the white van made an appearance again, Marcel resumed his original route, visited the market, picked up some paint and supplies and loaded them into his pick-up truck, then drove home. 'Behave normally', he told himself. There was the van again. He was rumbled. They were going to a lot of trouble just to follow a small-time camp-site operator. He made a decision. Make this the last job. Get these four kids away as soon as possible, then disappear. Lie low. Get Latif to take him out of the country one night. But get these English kids away first. They were serious money! No waiting until the end of the week. Contact Latif, using Channel B. Yes, only in emergencies, Latif had told him. If this wasn't an emergency, he didn't know what was. He had made a trip to the next village that afternoon, carrying a car battery in the bed of the pick-up. Despite behaving perfectly normally, he felt as if he was being watched by a thousand pairs of binoculars. Every bush concealed a policeman. Sweating, he pulled up in front of a garage, and carried the battery into the workshop. Seconds later, he came out and drove away. The grey 2CV followed. The occupants had not checked out the garage, certainly they had not looked for a note taped to the underside of the battery. They were briefed only to follow Marcel. Message delivered. Now, as he checked the Lashmore Site, he could see the family apparently getting ready to go out. Perhaps to market, the mother had a basket with her. The girls were scampering round, behaving like children. Even the big one. Look at those tits bouncing. The boy was sitting on the grass by the tent, watching them. Miserable little sod. Here was his first chance to make a snatch. If they all went to market, he would follow. It was almost certain the parents and the children would split up and go their separate ways once they reached the town. He would tail the children, and as soon as an opportunity presented itself, he would approach them and tell them there had been an accident, involving their parents, and offer to take them to the police station. Instead, he would take them to the house of Kitto, another friend. Kitto would ask no questions. The camper van was packed, the kids were all aboard, and it was rocking gently across the grass to the driveway leading out to the main coast road. Marcel started the pick-up, and prepared to follow at a discreet distance. But the van stopped. The occupants had a brief and apparently heated discussion, then the boy got out, with a face like thunder, and strode back to the tent. He unzipped the door, went inside, and closed the door after him. Seconds later, the van drove off. Sadly, Marcel switched off the engine and shaking his head, went back into his shack. ********** Latif turned the boat once more and scanned the shore through his night glasses. Nothing. One more pass, then he would be off. Marcel hadn't ever let them down yet, but Marcel was only a Frenchman and only in it for the money. Nothing tonight. But there were still two more nights. ********** Candi didn't tell Carolyn about her bra. When they had got back from the market, Dawn asked Carolyn and Lucinda to go over to the camp office and make arrangements for regular delivery of milk. Candi said she'd change her shirt. "See you in a little while", she shouted to them. Piers had not been in the tent. There was a note pinned to a loaf of bread saying he had gone down to the beach for a walk. Candi was sweating in her shirt which seemed to have shrunk since the last time she wore it. She slipped into the sleeping compartment, struggled out of her shirt and kneeling before her bag, pulled out a pile of clothes, looking for her sexy pink T-shirt. Things seemed to have been disturbed. She found the shirt, and a bra came out with it, entangled with its hooks caught in the neckline of the shirt. She freed it, then felt something wet. The bra cup contained something wet and sticky. With a little thrill, Candi sniffed at it, then dipped a finger in it and took a cautious taste. It was slightly salty. She didn't know for certain, but she thought she knew what it was. The thought excited her. It excited her a lot. She slipped her fingers up the leg of her shorts and into her panties..... Five minutes later, she had another idea, which excited her even more! She took the note from the loaf and screwed it up, throwing it in a corner. She removed her hot, sweaty bra and tucked it away into her bag, then pulled the sexy pink T-shirt on, smoothing it across her breasts. She tucked the shirt in at the waist, and looked down at herself critically; then pulled it out again and left the shirt hanging loose outside her shorts, the soft material falling straight down from the points of her low-slung nipples. She never went outside without a bra at home, her mother would have skinned her alive. She felt almost naked. She leaned forward and her breasts almost fell out of the bottom of her shirt. Cupping her hands beneath them, she gave them a squeeze and a shake. Gosh, they felt big and heavy without a bra! They weren't quite visible beneath the shirt! Out she went into the fresh air, her nipples puffing up immediately in the breeze, and possibly also with the anticipation of what she was about to do. Then she thought for a moment, and ducked back inside again. She emerged about thirty seconds later. This time, she walked briskly toward the sand dunes, her huge breasts bouncing. ********** Piers saw her coming. He was crouched between two rocks, and had just taken himself in hand. He didn't know whether to be annoyed or pleased as Candi appeared on the beach. She was carrying her sandals in one hand. As she got closer, he could see the erection of her nipples, and her freely swaying breasts, clearly unsupported. He'd never seen them looking so enormous! Frightening! Where was she going? Would she walk straight past? "Piers?" She called his name! "Piers?" He hastily tucked himself back into his shorts. "Here!" he called. "Over here. In the rocks." Candi looked round, and seeing him, smiled. She came over, wiggling her hips exaggeratedly, the movement causing her breasts to bounce almost out of the top and the bottom of her T-shirt with each step. "Hi!" she purred. "I felt like going for a little walk away from the others." She came up to where he was still crouched, trying not to let her see his erection which was now almost bursting his pants. She casually adjusted the crotch of her shorts where they were sticking to her, raising one leg slightly to do so; then sat down facing him, her plump bottom squashing into the sand. He could see right up one leg of her shorts. There, staring him right in the eye, was a dense black bush of hair, and winking in the middle of it, Candi's moist little pink slit. He nearly came straight away. Another ten seconds would have been enough. But Candi was too itchy to sit still. No sooner had she plonked herself down, than she got up again on her knees, still facing him, and leaned forward. "I like to be alone sometimes, don't you? Well, not *completely* alone...!" She cupped her breasts, *just* covered by the pink cotton jersey, and held them out to him. He reached out as if to hold them, then took his hand away as if it had been burned. She shook her titties gently, impatiently at him. "Don't you like my huge breasts?" she said, with a pout. 'Breasts', she hadn't called them 'tits', she'd called them her breasts! The word sounded so *rude*. His cock was nearly exploding. "Here, wait a minute, have a proper look", she whispered, and without another word, she whipped the T-shirt off over her head. Piers's eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Those tits. Candi's tits. They were even bigger than he'd dared to imagine, and she was kneeling there shoving them into his face! Into his mouth, he thought, realising that his jaw had fallen open and the giggling girl had thrust an enormous nipple straight between his lips! He sucked it into his mouth, and she leaned forward quickly, the huge tit squashing against his face. He felt her other one wrap round his ear as she crushed him to her chest. He could smell her fresh sweat, feel the dampness of her cleavage against his nose and cheeks. He could hardly breathe. Was she going to suffocate him? Here on the beach? She wouldn't do that, surely! She pushed him on to his back on the sand, turning her body while somehow keeping her teat in his mouth. Now, her face was pushing down on his chest. He felt the pressure ease for a moment, then his shirt was jerked up round his neck. She had found the top of his shorts unfastened, where he hadn't had the time to put himself away properly, and practically torn his shorts off him. Her face came down on his naked chest, and he felt her hot tongue as it licked its way down to his groin. The nipple plopped out of his mouth, and he felt first the rubbery, yielding flabbiness of her plump belly, then the roughness of her pubic hair as it rasped across his cheek, and finally the warm, fishy stink of her sweaty pussy. Her pussy lips were soaking wet against his mouth. Wet, slimy, yet somehow not soapy, more vinegary in texture. Meanwhile, further down, much further down, her breath scorched him as her mouth opened wide to take him inside ... "Piers? Candi? You there?" "Oh, fucking hell!" she swore with deep feeling, "Not NOW!" "Oh, shit!" moaned Piers in frustration and, somehow, relief. The sunlight was momentarily dazzling as Candi rolled heavily off him, then was eclipsed again within seconds as Carolyn's silhouette appeared from behind the rocks. His sister gasped. Lucinda had joined her, the girls standing silently together in condemnation. Piers lay on his back, looking up at them, his shorts pulled down, his shirt pulled up, revealing his pale pink chest. His fast-subsiding cock was chilled and wet from his own lubrication and from Candi's mouth. He looked at Candi, where she lay beside him on the sand, not looking up at her school-friend, unable to meet her eyes. Candi's breasts were huge, the sand clinging to the sweat on them. More sand stuck to the separate rolls of flesh round her plump tummy. There was sand sprinkled freely on the dense and spreading forest of black pubic hair which seemed to cover her entire crotch right out to the peaks of her hip bones and even spread in little curls down the inside of her thighs. She was so unbelievably huge-breasted, and plump, and so *hairy*. As he gazed at her, Piers felt his erection rising again, despite himself. Candi groaned theatrically when saw it, and covered her eyes with one tiny plump hand. That was when Carolyn gave a sobbing cry and turned, running away across the sand, dragging Lucinda behind her, the younger girl looking back over her shoulder, not wanting to miss any detail of this astonishingly arousing scene. They sat there, not looking at each other. A faint breeze had arisen, wafting the scent of seaweed and wild flowers in their direction. It mingled with the eddying musk of Candi's sex. "I think the spell's broken!" said Candi, getting up and reaching for her shirt. "We'd better get back and face the music. Chapter 4:- Snatch Dawn Lashmore saw her daughters coming back along the pathway from the beach. She thought they looked unhappy. They walked close together, heads down, not saying anything. She could see no sign of Piers or the girl Candi. Carolyn and Lucinda, still silent, went into the tent, and Dawn decided to give them a few minutes before going over to see if she could help her daughters in any way. And so she did, and found the girls still sitting in the outer room of the tent, looking down at their feet. Lucinda looked up as her mother stood at the doorway and asked if she could come in. "Hello, Mum", the younger girl said in a subdued voice. "Is anything the matter?" Dawn asked, and Carolyn looked up. She had tears on her cheeks, and her eyes were red. Dawn pulled up a folding chair and sat down next to her. "Nothing. We just ... nothing!" "Is it anything to do with Candi? Where's Piers, down on the beach?" Carolyn nodded. "Are they together?" she asked, sensing something. Lucinda nodded. "Yes, they're down by the rocks." "They'll be back soon, they were just ... walking", said Carolyn quickly, not wanting Lucinda to say anything about the appalling scene they'd just witnessed. Dawn looked at Carolyn closely. "Darling, if there's anything you want to talk about, you have only to say. You'd be surprised how much it helps when things get difficult. You too, Lucinda. All right?" The girls nodded, Lucinda looking nervously at Carolyn, but saying nothing. "We'll see you all for dinner later, okay? We've got some lovely fresh fish from the market. Later, then." And she stood up, touching Carolyn gently on the shoulder, and made her way over to the camper van. She moved her sun-lounger to where she could see the path from the beach, and sat down with her book. She had to wait no more than ten minutes before the two children came into view. Candi walked ahead, Piers trailing about five yards behind. The girl was obviously not wearing a bra, and Dawn stared in wonder at the size of her breasts and nipples, rebounding heavily beneath her T-shirt. In her position in loco parentis, Dawn was going to need a word about underclothes with Candi before much longer. Piers looked dishevelled. His shorts were covered in sand and his shirt was askew. If ever a couple of kids had obviously been up to no good, it was these two. They went into the tent, and after a moment, the door was zipped shut from the inside. ********** Nobody said anything. Candi went into the large sleeping compartment and peeled off her pink T-shirt. The others heard her rummaging through her bag, and a moment later, she appeared at the sleeping compartment doorway, apparently oblivious of the eyes of Piers and the girls, her huge breasts dangling heavily before her. She held a large black bra in her hand, and as they watched, she bent forward from the waist and lowered herself into the cups. Only when she had straightened up and was fastening the hooks at the back, did she meet Carolyn's eyes. Candi hefted her breasts to settle them in the great big cups. Satisfied, she unfastened the waist of her shorts and dropped them to her feet. She stood there in just her bra, the black undergarment echoing the colour of the luxuriant growth of her pubic hair. Was she doing this on purpose, just to shock us, wondered Carolyn. If so, it was certainly working! Lucinda was gazing at Candi in amazement. Piers had never seen anything so arousing in his life. His tongue was almost hanging out. Candi turned back into the sleeping compartment, then bent over to pick up a pair of clean panties from the ground. All three occupants of the tent were treated to a perfect view of the girl's richly-furred pussy from the rear. She stepped into the panties, turning to face them as she did so, her breasts squashing heavily against her thighs as she brought her knees up to pull the flimsy panties up. Finally, she arranged the crotch of her panties, taking her time over it. A spot of damp formed immediately over her slit. Nobody had said a word so far. "Carolyn", said Candi. "About earlier, on the beach ..." Her friend said nothing. It could have been worse, thought Candi. She could have shouted that there was nothing to discuss and stormed out. "I'm sorry I did that to Piers. It won't ever happen again!" Piers looked aggrieved, relieved and peeved, all in the space of five seconds. Carolyn glanced at him, then back at Candi. She was standing there in bra and panties, looking so womanly that Carolyn felt hopeless. How can I handle this, she thought, I'm only a little girl, Candi's a fully-grown woman! Candi looked shame-faced. Her face reddened as if she was noticing the fact of her wanton appearance for the first time. She turned and picked up a loose-fitting shift, which she shrugged herself into before turning to face them again. Carolyn felt slightly more comfortable. Lucinda looked disappointed. Piers showed only relief. "Sometimes my brain seems to be between my legs, Caro! I honestly couldn't help myself. It wasn't Piers's fault. Not at all. I saw him there and tried to rape him. I'm really sorry!" Carolyn felt the ground being pulled out from under her. She wanted to scream and rage at her busty friend, but she looked so miserable now, there wasn't a word she could think of to say. It never occurred to her to mention that Candi had gone wandering down to the beach without her bra or panties! "You've got your dress on back to front!" "What?" Candi looked down at the shift. "It's the same both ways, isn't it?" "No, the label is at the back. Hold still, I'll give you a hand." And Carolyn moved over to Candi and helped her pull her arms out of the armholes. It was a bit of a struggle. "Your boobs are too big by half", she told her. "And you're just an oversexed bitch!" Lucinda breathed in sharply, but she felt relief that her sister and her big friend seemed to be getting back on to their usual terms. Piers didn't want the girls at loggerheads, certainly. He had seen his mother sitting outside the van as they came back to the site, and was dreading the call, demanding to know where they had been, and what they'd been up to. Then pussy would really be out of the bag. Lucinda had an idea. "Mum and Dad said they want to go and do some shopping tomorrow morning. Do you think they'd let us all go down to the beach instead?" "All of us together?" Candi brightened. "Why not?" said Carolyn. "You happy, Piers?" Piers saw nothing to be ecstatic about, but even a day on the beach with all three girls was better than an awkward interview with his father. "Sure", he said. ********** Dawn was happier with the arrangement. At least the kids would be all together, and there shouldn't be an opportunity for any funny business. As well as that, she had noticed, relations between the children seemed much easier. At dinner last night, the older girls had been very much their usual bright and cheerful selves. She issued stern warnings before they drove off for the day. Then both parents called out, "Have a nice day, we'll bring you something back later." And the camper van reached the roadway and drove out of the gates of the campsite. Marcel watched it go. He turned his binoculars on to the Lashmore children's tent, and saw, to his satisfaction, that all four of them were still there, clustered round the tent, obviously preparing for a visit to the beach. The blonde sisters were wearing matching outfits, shorts and brief cut-off tops. The big dark one was stunning in a burstingly-full white stretch top with no sleeves. Her shorts were skimpy and tight, not like the loose-legged ones she had appeared in the day before. There, they were off! Marcel picked up the mobile phone, then changed his mind and began to scribble a note. Then he entered the inner office and fed the paper into the fax machine. ********** The beach was not deserted, as it had been when Candi and Piers had had their interrupted session, but there was still plenty of room. The children found a spot away from other holidaymakers, and laid out their towels on the smooth sand. Piers said he felt like a swim to cool off, and Candi, who had also felt like going in the water, changed her mind and said she'd stay with Lucinda. They started burrowing in the sand, quickly raising an impressive mound, and decorating it with turrets and a moat with bridges. Meanwhile, Carolyn changed into a bikini under cover of her towel, and brother and sister ran to the edge of the sea and splashed around in the waves. It was half an hour or more before the swimmers returned, shivering in the breeze, towelled themselves dry and dressed again. The little group sat together, laughing and throwing pebbles at the absurdly ornate sand castle, trying to bring down the bridges and collapse the tunnels. They took no notice of the two families who came close to them and set up windbreaks and deck chairs on either side. The families were European in appearance, two couples with adult brothers and in one case a grown-up sister or girlfriend. There were a couple of children with one family, little girls of five or six. It was these two little girls who began playing near the Lashmore children, obviously fascinated by the efforts to demolish the sand castle. Carolyn, Lucinda and Candi found the little girls highly amusing, even Piers laughed when the little girls picked up stones and tried to join in the game. The mother of one of the families came over, and in heavily accented English, asked Candi if she and her children would like an ice cream! The girls found this hilarious. The woman had thought Candi was clearly far too well-developed to be anything but the mother of the other three! And when the mother of the two little ones gave Candi a handful of coins and pointed out the ice cream vendor, all four of the children, leading the little girls by the hand, set off up the beach to the road. They never reached the ice cream van. As soon as they were on the sidewalk, brushing the sand off their feet, three powerfully-built young men swiftly approached from behind them and hustled the four to a Renault delivery van which was standing by the kerb with its engine running and the sliding side door open. Two pairs of hands hauled the kids into the van, the door slid shut, and the van roared off. One of the powerful men took the little girls, one by each hand, and led them to the ice cream van, where they spent some time deciding which variety to choose. ----------------------------------------------- Just Al -----------------------------------------------