Care Home Corruption

by Arthur Saxon
meganeura@hotmail.com

My father looked me up and down. “No no no,” he said sternly. “Absolutely not. No daughter of mine is wearing trousers to church!”

At sixteen years of age, I had never even been to church until last year, when Mum had got back together with the man who had abandoned us both when I was just two years old. The two of them had not even had any contact for most of that time, but after the death of my stepfather, Mum reached out to Dad via Facebook, and discovered that he had turned his life around in a major way. He was now a prominent figure in his local church, and had given up all of his former vices. They met up in a coffee shop, and it seems he made a good impression on Mum, because before I knew it, she was bringing him home to meet me.

The next few months were strange, to say the least. To my dismay, Mum became incredibly religious almost overnight, and while she at first did not attempt to force her newfound beliefs on me, that began to change right after Mum and Dad remarried, and we moved in with him.

“They’re clean, and smart!” I pleaded. “Please … Dad. Other girls wear trousers to St Felix’s…”

“I’m not a parent to those other girls,” said Dad firmly. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word about it! Go and put on a dress.”

I looked to Mum for support, but her expression was, as usual, unsympathetic. In any difference of opinion between me and Dad, she unfailingly took his side.

I sighed. “Fine,” I said sulkily.

“Excuse me?” said Dad sharply. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

I suppressed a shudder. That edge to his voice, I had learned the hard way, was a veiled threat. I swallowed. “Yes, Dad,” I said meekly. “I’ll go and change.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Dad. “Quickly now – we’re leaving in a couple of minutes.”

I hurried upstairs and changed into a short summer dress that came halfway down my thighs. No doubt Dad would think I was showing too much leg, and would send me back upstairs to change into something more ‘modest’, but I was feeling a little obtuse and rebellious, and wanted to illustrate the restrictiveness of his dress code.

But when I came downstairs, to my surprise, he merely nodded. “Much better,” he said.

Moments later, in the back of the car, I was texting on my phone when Dad glanced in his rear view mirror. “Put the phone away,” he said. “It’s not good for you to use it while we’re driving. It’ll make you carsick.”

“No it w…” I began, but then I saw his eyes narrow. “Yes Dad,” I said glumly, trying not to sound resentful. I switched off my phone, but kept it in my hand.

The service was long and boring, as always. I was itching to pull out my phone as it dragged on interminably … but I had no desire to face Dad’s inevitable wrath.

Afterwards, once we had all got into the car, my stepdad started the engine, paused, and turned it off again. Turning around, he stared fixedly at me. I fidgeted nervously, wondering what was coming.

“I know this has been a difficult period of adjustment for you, Robyn,” he said. “And I know you wish your stepfather was still living, and being here for you, instead of me. But I only have a few short years before you fly the nest and make your own way in the world, and I want to make the most of them. I want to be the best father for you that I can be. You know that, right?”

“Yeah…” I said uncomfortably.

“That’s why I thought we would have a nice lunch at Sea of Galilee,” Dad continued. “How about that?”

“Oh!” I said, surprised. Sea of Galilee was, by all accounts, an expensive restaurant. “That sounds nice.”

Mum looked concerned, however. “Darling,” she said to Dad, “I already prepared…”

“It’ll keep, Diana,” he told her. “Save it for dinner tomorrow.”

Mum nodded, looking deflated.

Lunch was indeed very nice: a mix of Anglicised Middle Eastern dishes and elevated traditional English fare. “This is really good, Dad,” I said, offering him a small reward for his generous gesture. “Thank you for bringing us here.”

He looked gratified. “My pleasure!” he said. “I actually know the owners, Mary and Efrem. Efrem’s the chef; he knows his craft, certainly.”

“Yes,” Mum agreed.

“You know,” said Dad thoughtfully, “I was thinking about Reverend Wilson’s sermon today. All about the wisdom of the elderly. He’s absolutely right that young people today don’t spend nearly enough time in the company of old people. In days gone by, grandparents would live with their grown-up children until they died. Now we just ship them off to retirement communities or nursing homes and forget about them, except for an occasional visit on a Sunday afternoon. I think that’s a terrible shame. The elderly have so much accumulated wisdom to impart to the younger generations, and we isolate them and pay them hardly any attention.”

“That is a terrible shame,” Mum agreed.

“In two days,” Dad continued, “we’re off to Egypt for a week, and we’ll be seeing all the great works of the ancient Egyptians: the pyramids, the Sphinx, the Temple of Karnak, and so on. And I want you to consider, Robyn, how much those people revered the elderly in their culture. Families stayed together, the young looked after the old, the old shared their wisdom and stories with the young. And when they passed away, the dead were buried with great honour. Pyramids, statues, carvings … so different from our culture today, where we stick our dead relatives in a furnace and then scatter their ashes to the wind in a favourite scenic spot, or stick them in an urn on the mantelpiece. If there’s one lesson I want you to learn from today’s sermon, Robyn, it’s that old people shouldn’t be taken for granted! Listen to them; learn from them.”

I nodded politely. But apparently Dad was not yet done. “We should really spend more time with Grandad,” he continued. “I honestly feel terrible that you’ve only seen him once, Robyn – your own great-grandfather! I think we should all go and pay him a visit in Twilight Valley Care Home, this afternoon.”

My heart sank. I was hoping to go and see my friend Bridget later, to work on our theatre project together. But I doubted Dad would have much sympathy for that excuse.

Fortunately, Mum came to my rescue. “Oh but darling,” she said, “didn’t you say we needed to tidy the attic this afternoon? We’re not going to have another chance before our holiday, and Daniel…”

“Yes yes,” said Dad, sighing in frustration. “Bother it. But look … what if we drop Robyn off at the care home, and she can spend the afternoon with Grandad? We can pick her up at, say, five-thirty?”

My jaw dropped in horror. He did not really expect me to hang out with that sinister-looking old man for a whole afternoon, did he? It sounded like torture. I could not say that, of course, but I hoped Mum would somehow get me out of it.

No such luck. “Oh yes, that’s a good idea!” she said.

I groaned. “Seriously?” I asked plaintively.

“Robyn!” snapped Dad, glaring at me. “Grandad may be old and frail, with numerous health problems, but he’s still as smart as a whip. He’s intelligent company, and very well read, with a lot of wisdom that you could really learn and benefit from.”

My cheeks burned hot. “He’s … creepy,” I said defensively. “He stares at my … my chest.”

“What a thing to say!” exclaimed Dad. Then, looking around hastily, he lowered his voice. “If he happened to look at your chest for a moment too long, then I would attribute that to his advancing years and diminishing mental acuity. He probably had no idea he was doing it. But also, you were wearing rather a tight top when we last visited him, as I recall. He was probably thinking to himself that you should dress more modestly!”

“I … I just get a weird vibe from him,” I mumbled.

“Well you should stop judging books by their cover!” Dad retorted. “Be more charitable! He can’t help how he looks. Now I’m more determined than ever to have you spend some time with him. It’s clear you need to get over some prejudices!”

I said nothing. It was clear I was not going to get out of this. I decided to try to put a brave face on it. “You’re right,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “It’ll probably be good for me. I’m sure he has a lot to teach me.”

Dad visibly relaxed. “Good girl,” he said. “That’s the spirit. Now, are we getting dessert…?”

“Oh, not for me – I’m full,” said Mum.

“I wouldn’t mind some…” I said hopefully.

“Actually I’m full too,” said Dad. “And perhaps you should cut back a bit on the desserts anyway, Robyn – it wouldn’t hurt you to lose a couple of kilos.”

I gasped. Had he just called me fat? What a mean thing to say! I might not be as skinny as some girls, but I was hardly rotund. Perhaps he had been referring to my breasts, which were above average in volume. My diminutive stature did not help, of course, making my chest seem bigger than it really was. I wish I had Mum’s height – she was five foot eight – but no, I just had to take after my late dad…

So I did not get any dessert; Dad just paid the bill, and we left. And instead of going straight home, we drove instead to Twilight Valley Care Home, ten miles away in the village of Hopley. As we pulled into the car park, I stared at the old building with a sense of foreboding. Visiting here for just an hour was bad enough; I was dreading spending an entire afternoon with the old creep.

We introduced ourselves at the reception desk, and Dad explained that I would be visiting old Mr Higson on my own for three hours or so. I don’t know if he was expecting any pushback from the receptionist, but there wasn’t any; she just waved us through, and continued staring glass-eyed at her tablet.

Outside the door of my great-grandfather’s room, Dad turned to me. “Now, you be a good girl!” he instructed me firmly. “And an attentive student. When we pick you up later, I’ll be asking Grandad how this afternoon went, and I’ll expect a good report from him!”

“Yes … Dad,” I replied.

He knocked on the door.

“If you’re looking for Mr Higson,” said a female voice, “I think you’ll find him in the common room.”

We all turned towards the voice; marching down the corridor was a middle-aged black woman wearing pale green scrubs. “Ah,” said Dad. “Thank you.”

“That way,” said the nurse, pointing backward over her shoulder. She did not slow her pace as she swept past us, clearly on a mission.

We walked to the common room, where a dozen or more elderly men and women were sitting around chatting, playing cards, staring out of the window, or reading newspapers. I recognised my great-grandfather, Bernard Higson, immediately; even in this geriatric crowd, he stood out for sheer wizened ugliness.

“Grandad!” said Dad, waving and smiling as he approached the armchair in which the old man sat. “Hello!”

“Oh!” said the old man, looking up in surprise. His cracked features crinkled into a brown-toothed smile. “Melvin, my lad. I … I wasn’t expecting a visit today.”

“Just a flying visit, for me and Diana, I’m afraid,” said Dad. “We have a busy afternoon planned.”

“Oh,” said his grandfather, looking disappointed.

“But Robyn’s going to spend the whole afternoon with you!” Dad continued brightly. “If that’s okay?”

A slow grin spread over the old creep’s face. “Ohhh,” he said, licking his lips. “Really? How nice…”

“Yes,” said Dad. “I do hope she doesn’t give you any trouble. She’s here to learn – to gain the benefit of your great wisdom and life experience.”

“How interesting,” murmured the old man. “Mmmm. Yes. I could certainly teach her a thing or two.”

“Excellent,” said Dad. “I was sure you could. She was a little reluctant to come, to get honest with you, but she shouldn’t give you any trouble; I told her you’d be giving me a full report on her behaviour when I pick her up at five-thirty.”

The old man looked at his wristwatch. “Hmmm!” he said. “That’s a good long time, isn’t it? Well well. Come here, my dear.”

My hands clasped uncomfortably in front of me, I walked over to stand in front of my great-grandfather. “Hi, um, Grandad Bernard,” I mumbled.

“Why don’t you call me GG?” he suggested, raising his hand and taking hold of the left side of my dress, clutching a handful of material just below the widest part of my hip. “Short for great-grandad.”

“Okay,” I said awkwardly.

“Right, well, we’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” said Dad. “See you at five thirty, Robyn. Come on, Diana.”

Mum and Dad left the common room, leaving me alone with “GG”.

“What a pretty dress,” said the old man, pulling on the material.

“Um, thank you,” I replied.

“Why don’t you sit down on my lap?” he suggested. “Then we can chat in comfort, and get to know each other.”

I glanced nervously around the room. A couple of the other residents were looking at me. A gentleman with only one arm smiled and nodded. “Um, I’m not sure that’s appropriate…” I said.

“Whyever not?” GG asked in surprise. “You’re my great-granddaughter. What’s inappropriate about it?”

“Uh, well, you know,” I mumbled, getting a little red in the face, “I’m not a little girl anymore. I, um, wouldn’t want to injure you…”

“You’re little enough,” said GG cheerfully. “And I’m tougher than I look. I won’t break, I promise you! Come on, plop your little bottom down on my lap.” He let go of my dress, and patted his thighs invitingly with both hands. “It doesn’t make sense for you to just stand there liked a stuffed lemon while we talk. I’ll get a crick in my neck if I have to keep looking up at you like this.”

“Could I not pull up another chair?” I asked desperately, pointing to the nearest empty armchair, which was about ten feet away. I emphatically did NOT want to sit on this old creep’s lap!

“No, no,” he replied gravely. “The staff here don’t like people moving the furniture around. And nor do the residents! Mrs Chough would be most upset if she came in and found you had moved her favourite chair, and were sitting in it. Come on, Robyn, there’s no need to be shy.” He patted his lap again.

“Ugh,” I muttered under my breath. “All right then.” I turned and sat sideways on his lap, putting my weight down slowly to avoid hurting him.

“There,” he said, putting his arms around my waist. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

“I … I suppose so,” I said unconvincingly.

“Now,” he said, “why don’t you tell me about yourself? Last time you were here, we didn’t really get a chance to talk. I feel like I barely know you!”

I shrugged. “There’s not much to tell, really. I go to school, I play violin in the orchestra, I like history and French and art and Latin…”

“They still teach Latin?” GG asked in surprise. “I thought Latin had long since disappeared from state curricula.”

“It’s optional,” I explained. “I took it because I like languages and my French teacher told me it would be fun. Which it is.”

“Good for you!” said the old man. “So what else do you get up to? Do you have a boyfriend?”

I was feeling very tense. He had just put his hand on my thigh – just below the hem of my dress. I figured he was just resting his hand there, but it felt weird and uncomfortable. For a moment I did wonder if it might be a prelude to an attempt to feel me up, but then I decided it couldn’t be. The man was eighty-five years old! Surely he was too old for such things.

So I just ignored it. “No,” I admitted. “I … I did have one – Kevin Boyd – but he … we broke up.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” said GG, patting my thigh. “What happened? Did you dump him? Did he do something stupid?”

“No,” I said, feeling increasingly awkward. “He … he dumped me. He wanted to … do things … I wasn’t ready for…”

“Ah,” said the old man knowingly. “He wanted to have sex. Teenage boys are all the same. Always in such a hurry! Was this before you turned sixteen?”

“Yeah…” I said.

“Then you were right to wait,” said Bernard. “Good for you, Robyn. I’m sure the breakup was rough on you, though.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. It had been awful.

“Poor dear,” Bernard said sympathetically, as he slowly stroked the bare skin of my thigh. “And there hasn’t been anyone since then?”

I shook my head, while trying to think of a polite way to get him to take his hand off my thigh.

“Nobody you’re interested in?” he pressed me. “Come on, there must be someone you’ve got your eye on.”

I blushed. There was, of course, one: Ethan Burgess, the handsome and super-buff captain of the rugby team. He had been going out with Zandy Whicker for a while now … but everyone knew their relationship was in trouble.

GG grinned. “Tell me about him.”

I hesitated. “His name’s Ethan,” I said eventually. “He’s huge – like six feet five – and built like a tank … but he’s the nicest, sweetest, gentlest person you could imagine. Until he gets on the rugby field, and then he’s terrifying. But all the girls love him; he’s just got this charisma. And these wonderful blue eyes…”

The old man chuckled. “And you want him to notice you,” he said. “See your qualities. Fall for you. Ask you out.”

“Yes!” I said, my excitement at the idea temporarily overruling my instinctive reluctance to confide in the creepy octogenarian on whose lap I unwillingly sat.

“Well I can help you with that,” said GG, with surprising confidence.

“Really?” I inquired sceptically. “How?”

“Robyn, I didn’t get to be this age without picking up a thing or two,” said GG, smirking a little. “I know how young men think, and I’m very familiar with the strategies young women employ to get the notice of young men. And I know what works, and what doesn’t. Didn’t you come here to learn from me? To reap the benefits of my wisdom and experience?”

“I suppose I did,” I conceded.

“Then let me help you,” said GG. “I’m sure that giving you advice on how to attract your dream boy wasn’t quite what your parents had in mind for us this afternoon, but what the heck! They don’t need to know.”

I giggled. “All right,” I said. I was genuinely curious as to what advice he might have to offer. If it turned out to be bad advice, no big deal: I was not under any obligation to follow it.

“Perhaps we should go back to my room, though,” GG mused. “This seems like a conversation best held in private. Would you mind helping me up?”

“Not at all,” I said, and I helped the old man out of his chair. I heard his knees creak as he straightened them.

I thought he might need my help to walk to his room, but he was actually perfectly capable of making the journey himself, and at a speed that surprised me. Far from being disabled, he was very competent on his feet, and it was not long before he led me into his little room.

It was plainly furnished, with a neatly-made bed, a bedside table, a wardrobe, an armchair for a single visitor, and a small desk with another chair. A mirror hung on the wall above the desk, and on the bedside table was a tablet, in a case bearing the Amazon logo. The room was clean and tidy, though there was some kind of dark stain on the carpeted floor. I had been here before, but not in a long while.

“Welcome to my palace,” said GG, sitting down on his bed and swinging his feet up. “Take a seat.”

I pulled the armchair forward a bit, and sat down. This was much better than sitting on his lap! And he was at a nice safe distance. I found myself able to relax a little.

He settled back against the pillows propped up behind him. “Boys,” he said, “are simple creatures.”

I giggled. “Yes!” I agreed.

“Their attention is easily drawn,” GG continued. “Certain visual stimuli, cunningly employed, can radically alter a boy’s opinion of a girl. What do you wear at school?”

“The school uniform,” I replied, blushing a little. “Same as everyone else.”

“Blouse and skirt?” GG asked.

I nodded. “Plus a cardigan if it’s cold.”

“How short are the skirts?” the old man inquired.

I bit my lip, then demonstrated, tugging my dress down a bit so that its hem was about two inches above the tops of my knees. “About that short,” I said.

“Not that short then,” said GG. “Quite modest really, as school uniforms go.”

“It does vary,” I conceded. “Some girls wear shorter skirts.”

“But not you?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“How do you think your parents would react if you shortened your skirts to the same length as the shortest ones you see around the school?” my great-grandfather inquired with a cheeky grin.

I shivered. “I don’t know,” I said. “They know I’m not much of a show-off, so if I start wearing shorter hemlines, they’re bound to at least ask why. And it’s possible I might get into trouble for it at school.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Stand up a moment – show me how short you’re talking about here.”

Feeling a little embarrassed, I stood up, then looked down at my thighs. “Honestly, this dress is probably as short as I ever see skirts at school,” I said.

“Ah, that’s good!” said GG, pleased. “That gives us plenty of inches to work with. What you need to do, Robyn, is show Ethan more skin than he’s used to seeing on other girls. You’ll be amazed how quickly this grabs his attention. You have lovely legs, and he won’t fail to notice that if you’re showing them off.”

My cheeks felt hot. “I … I’d definitely get in trouble if I wore skirts shorter than this,” I said.

“Ah, but you won’t need to,” said GG, his expression cunning. “There are lots of tricks you can employ. Folding over your waistband, for starters. You can be wearing a perfectly acceptable skirt for entering a classrooms and so on, then sneakily fold the waistband over when an opportunity presents itself to show off for Ethan.”

“I don’t know…” I said doubtfully.

“Allow me to show you how effective that would be,” said GG. He turned to his bedside table, picked up his tablet, and folded back its case. “Now hike up that dress a couple of inches, to show what you would look like with a folded-over waistband.”

“I … I’d rather not,” I said, my face reddening.

“Then what hope do you have?” my great-grandfather inquired. “If you’re too shy to show your legs to a family member, not to mention an old man like me, how are you going to have the courage to show off to someone whose opinion really matters? A boy whose approval you are trying to obtain?”

“That’s sort of the point,” I admitted. “I’m not sure I will have that much courage.”

“Of course you will!” said GG. “I have faith in you. But you need to practise. You need to get used to showing some skin – first in a safe setting like this, and then in a more public setting among total strangers, and finally around your friends and the boy you’re interested in. Does that not sound like a reasonable plan?”

“I suppose so,” I agreed reluctantly.

“Good!” he said. “Now pull up that dress of yours, two or three inches, and I’ll take a photo.”

Squirming internally, I took hold of the front of my dress with both hands. Then I slowly pulled the material upward, while GG’s eyes, riveted to my rising hem, widened along with his grin.

“That’s it,” he encouraged me. “A little more … that’s good.”

I stopped, feeling rather exposed.

“And smile!” he said.

I forced a smile, and he took a photo.

“Okay, come and look!” he said.

I let go of my dress and walked over to his bed, turning and standing next to him as he showed me his tablet. There I was, on his screen, looking rather sheepish as I smiled, my eyes directed to the right, my hands holding up my dress so that an embarrassing amount of my thighs was showing.

“There,” said GG, putting his left arm around my waist. “How about that? Don’t you look sexy!”

“I’m not sure … um … it’s not very easy for me to be objective,” I said uncomfortably.

“Then trust me,” said the old man, patting my left hip. “You have lovely legs and you look smashing. When I was your age, dresses and skirts were all below the knee … but teenage girls still found ways to show off their legs. Then came the sixties, and … goodness me! Hemlines just kept getting shorter and shorter! It was incredible. By the end of the decade I was beginning to think we would see women going around with their knickers permanently exposed!” He sighed. “That didn’t happen, of course. But before the tide turned, women were showing far more leg than you’re showing here.” He chuckled. “Nowadays, it seems like women and girls have more options. You can wear your dresses and skirts long or short, or you can wear trousers, or shorts … it’s so varied, I honestly have no idea if the past couple of decades will be associated with any particular clothing style at all.”

“I think they will…” I replied doubtfully, thinking of leggings, joggers, and fashion changes prompted by the pandemic, like masks and loungewear.

“Perhaps I’m just out of touch,” GG conceded. “Anyway, I’m getting off the subject. The point is, you have great legs, and if you want to attract this Ethan fellow, you should show them off.”

“I don’t know, Mr … GG,” I said awkwardly. “I’m not sure I can get away with folding my waistband over like that. People will see what I’ve done, and I’ll get teased.”

“Hmm, well, I suppose that wouldn’t do,” the old man acknowledged grudgingly. “In that case, you’ll have to be a little more clever about it. Position yourself in such a way as to expose more of your legs. Sit carelessly. Use the furniture creatively.”

“I’m not sure I…” I began.

“Here, give it a try,” he said, gesturing to the armchair. “Pretend I’m Ethan. Go and sit down; show me some leg. I’ll give you feedback on whether it looks natural and sexy, or contrived and desperate. There’s a fine line between the two, you know!”

“Oh goodness,” I said, with a nervous swallow.

“You can do it,” he encouraged me. “Clever girl like you.” And I gasped as he patted my bottom, through my dress ... twice! Just two little quick pats … as if it was nothing at all!

If a younger man had done that, I would have protested loudly. But GG was old – a relic of a bygone era – and I knew that in the old days, such things were commonplace and barely if ever called out. I decided to let it go … for the moment. But if he pulled a stunt like that again, he was really going to hear about it!

I walked quickly over to the chair – I was relieved to get myself out of his reach – and sat down. Then, feeling rather foolish and embarrassed as GG stared at my legs, I crossed my left leg over my right, and leaned into the side of the chair, so that my left thigh would be more exposed.

“Very nice!” GG complimented me. “Ooh, let me take a photo so you can see…” He held up his tablet. “There we go! Yes, very sexy!” He lowered the tablet, and grinned. “But I think you can do better.”

“Um, I don’t know…” I mumbled. Another pose had in fact occurred to me, but I was not at all sure that I wanted to risk it in front of my great-grandfather.

“What’s that?” GG inquired, cupping his ear.

I did not want to repeat myself. With a slight grimace, I uncrossed my legs, then lifted my right knee and hooked it over the arm of the chair. With my thighs spread somewhat, I figured he would be able to see quite a long way up my right inner thigh, without (hopefully!) being able to see my panties.

“Oh, that’s very good!” said GG excitedly. “Oh indeed!” He raised his tablet, and took another photo. “Give me a smile, though. No, not that cheesy … just a small smile, a secret smile, like you know you’re being a little bit naughty.”

I tried.

“Excellent!” he said. “Come and see, Robyn, come and see!”

Curious despite myself, I got up and walked over to the bed. Once again he put his arm around my waist, which I was not happy about. But I looked with interest at the photo, which did indeed show a lot of my right thigh. My panties were just out of sight, fortunately!

“That’s a very sexy pose!” GG remarked.

I was actually quite pleased with the facial expression I’d pulled. “Do I look, um, seductive…?” I asked tentatively.

“You’re getting there!” said GG. “Definitely getting there. You still look a little uncomfortable, but practice will help with that. Your upper body looks rather stiff, like you’re not fully at ease with what you’re doing. Which is understandable – this stuff doesn’t come naturally. But we’ll do a few more of these, and you’ll gradually relax and begin to enjoy yourself. And once you’re comfortable doing these kinds of poses, it’ll be easier to slip into them when you’re in Ethan’s company. And at that point, I guarantee, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

I bit my lip. Could GG be right? Could a little practice here really help me capture Ethan’s attention and affections? Perhaps it was worth a try. “Shall I … do another pose?” I suggested hesitantly.

“Attagirl!” said GG, chuckling as he gave my bottom another couple of quick pats.

I clenched my teeth, but said nothing as I returned to the armchair. This time I sat down sideways, lifting both of my legs over the left arm of the chair, and leaning back against the right arm. My dress slipped up my thighs a little, and I helped it along by gently brushing it with my hand. The outside of my right thigh became exposed almost up to my hip.

GG laughed. “Superb!” he said. “Give me another naughty smile.”

I was starting to relax, and pulled off what felt like my most natural smile yet. As soon as GG had taken another photo, I swung my legs down, turned towards him, and pulled my right knee up to my chest, resting my chin upon it while hugging my shin. I smiled again.

“Ooh; very creative!” said GG, taking yet another photo. “Robyn … I’m starting to think you actually have modelling potential. You’re genuinely good at this!”

“I am?” I asked him, feeling rather flattered.

“Based on these last couple of poses … yes!” he replied. “Let’s keep it going … you’re on a roll!”

I giggled. As the old man had predicted, I was beginning to have fun. “Can I see those?”

“Certainly, certainly,” he said. And as I went over to stand by him, he once again put his arm around my waist. “See how sexy you are?”

I shivered. “If you say so,” I said.

“If you can adopt poses like these in front of Ethan,” said GG, “you’re sure to grab his attention. And once you have his attention, you need to press your advantage by giving him a glimpse of your knickers.”

I gulped. “Um, what?”

“Of course!” he said. “The goal here is for him to be unable to get you out of his thoughts as he goes about his day. You’ve got to burn a sexy image of yourself into his retinas. Something he’ll lie awake thinking about, after he’s gone to bed…”

“Assuming he isn’t sleeping with his girlfriend,” I grumbled.

“Oh – he has a girlfriend?”

I nodded. “Her name’s Zandy Whicker. But she’s a complete b…. I mean, she’s a horrible person – completely vain and self-centred. She’s always been really mean to me. She doesn’t deserve Ethan. The good news is that the two of them have been fighting a lot lately.”

GG grinned. “So he just needs a little nudge, then. Perfect! You just need to give him a sight that’ll turn his head. Something he won’t be able to get out of his mind while he’s kissing this Zandy girl. But you’ve got to get it right! Mess up this part, and you’ll just look desperate.”

I bit my lip. He had hit on one of my biggest fears: that in attempting to seduce a boy I would make an utter fool of myself. “So … how do I do it properly?” I asked nervously.

“The key is finesse,” said GG. “You can’t just spread your legs and say ‘Hey Ethan, look at my panties!’ That would be vulgar and off-putting. You have to make it look accidental – or at least plausibly accidental, even if Ethan is ninety-nine percent sure you’re doing it on purpose. You have to leave at least that one percent possibility that you’re unaware of what you’re doing.”

“That sounds tricky,” I said.

“Give it a try,” GG encouraged me. “Go on – sit down – let’s see if you can do a convincing panty-flash.”

I hesitated. “Um, GG,” I said awkwardly, “I’m not really comfortable showing you my panties…”

“Who would be?” said the old man cheerfully. “The point isn’t to be comfortable; it’s to get you your man. You can endure a bit of discomfort for that, surely?”

“I … I suppose so…” I reluctantly conceded.

“Plus, I’m family,” said GG. “And even if I weren’t, you’re quite safe with me. I mean, look at me! Do I look like someone who could overpower you and have my wicked way with you?” He chuckled.

I smiled a little. The idea was indeed rather absurd; he seemed very frail. “All right,” I said. “I’ll give it a try.”

“And I’ll give you my honest, objective assessment,” said GG, “as someone who remembers what it was like to hang around with sexy young women – once upon a time!”

I returned to the chair, momentarily relieved that, for once, GG had not patted my bottom as I left his side. Having sat down, I looked up to see him raise his tablet. “I’ll just record this on video,” he said, “so we can review afterwards what you got right and what you didn’t.”

This troubled me even more than the photos. “GG…” I said, “you’re not going to keep these photos and videos are you…?”

He stared at me. “Why would I keep them?” he asked, bemused. “I only have so much space on this thing; I try to keep it as clutter-free as possible. Not that your lovely pictures and videos are clutter, of course – I didn’t mean it like that – I just like to be very selective about what I keep on here.”

This was all very reassuring. “Thank you,” I said.

“Mind you,” he added thoughtfully, “I don’t have any other recent photos of you, and some of the ones I’ve taken are very nice shots. I might keep a couple of the best ones, and put them in my family photos collection.”

“As long as they’re not too naughty!” I said with a nervous laugh.

GG chuckled. “No indeed. I sometimes show my photos to my friends and the staff here; it wouldn’t do for them to see anything too racy.”

I relaxed a little. He seemed to have no interest at all in having sexy photos of me for his own enjoyment; he was genuinely just trying to help me win Ethan’s heart. I adopted a pose, feeling a little awkward and uncertain, with my legs partially spread and the front hem of my dress sagging down between my thighs. My plan was to lift my right heel up on to the chair, thus exposing my panties … but GG immediately shook his head.

“That doesn’t look natural,” he said. “Nobody sits like that if they’re wearing a skirt or dress.”

“Oh,” I said sheepishly. He was right, of course, but I was not sure how to sit both naturally and riskily.

“How about cross-legged?” he suggested. “You can tuck your dress between your legs, like you’re self-consciously trying to stay modest … but that position is rife with possibilities for an accidental exposure.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding; it did sound like a good idea. Taking care not to flash my panties at GG too early, I got myself into a cross-legged position, with my feet beneath my knees and my dress pulled firmly down in front of my panties. Since the material was inclined to spring upward when I let it go, I kept my hands clasped together between my thighs, holding my dress down.

“Good!” said GG. “Now let’s imagine you’re chatting away with Ethan, and your phone buzzes. It’s your mum, texting you about something important. You grab your phone, read the message, and respond.”

A bit of improv! I was up for that. “My phone’s in my handbag though,” I said, uncrossing my legs so that I could reach down and rummage in my bag.

“Oh, very good!” said GG. “I got a nice little flash of white there.”

“Oh gosh!” I said, mortified.

The old man laughed. “No need to be shy,” he said. “You’ll be showing me plenty more of your panties than that, Robyn.”

The way he said this made me feel quite uncomfortable. But I felt committed to this plan, now, so I simply smiled tightly and, having retrieved my phone, set it on the arm of the chair before carefully resuming my crossed-legs position.

“Okay, so we’re talking away,” said GG. “How are you today, Robyn? That’s a nice dress.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Buzz buzz!” said GG, glancing down at his tablet – perhaps to make sure it was recording and / or was lined up correctly.

I picked up my phone with my right hand. “Oh, it’s my mum,” I said. “Sorry, I just need to text her back.”

“Go right ahead,” said GG.

With my heart beating rapidly, I let go of my dress with my left hand, took the phone from my right, then began tapping randomly, as if typing a text. I was acutely aware that my dress had popped up at the front, and GG could no doubt see my panties, but I pretended to be oblivious of this. After a few seconds, I put the phone down and clasped my hands together in front of me, pushing my dress back down. “There – I’m done,” I said.

GG laughed in delight. “Perfect!” he said. “What a wonderful performance! I’m guessing you’ve had some acting experience?”

“Not really,” I said, blushing. “I mean, I was in a school play – The Pirates of Penzance – but I was just in the chorus. There wasn’t much acting involved.”

“Nonetheless!” said GG. “It was superb – totally convincing. I got such a beautiful eyeful of your pretty white knickers … do you prefer to call them knickers, or pants, or panties…?”

“I generally call them panties,” I said, feeling very hot in the cheeks. “Knickers makes me think of baggy old lady pants, and pants … I talk to a lot of Americans on the internet, and pants to them means trousers.”

“Panties it is, then,” said GG, putting his tablet down. “Robyn, if you give Ethan a sight like that, you’ll be the stuff of his nighttime fantasies for the next month.”

“You really think so?” I asked, now feeling hot in my ears too.

“I know so!” said GG firmly. “Before you know it, he’ll be inviting you over to ‘help him with his homework’ – you’ll see.” He winked.

“Unlikely,” I said ruefully. “He’s cleverer than me in every subject.”

“Then he’ll be offering you his help. Or you could be forward and ask him for help. He’ll jump at the chance!”

I shivered. The thought was extremely appealing. “That would be nice,” I admitted.

“Let’s try another one,” said GG. “The crossed-legs gambit will work a treat … but only if you get the opportunity to sit opposite Ethan in that position. In reality you’ve no idea what sort of situations might crop up, so it’s best to have a plan for as many contingencies as possible.”

“Okay…” I said nervously.

“For the next one, perhaps you could try showing off your lovely bottom,” said GG. “Let’s say you drop something, and bend over to pick it up. A classic … and guaranteed to attract a boy’s attention.”

“Okay,” I said again, a little more doubtfully. “I don’t think it’ll show my panties, though, even in a dress this short.”

“Perhaps not,” GG conceded. “But let’s give it a try anyway. At the very least, it’ll give him a nice view of your legs, and your dress will be hugging and highlighting your bottom very attractively, I suspect. But we can review the video afterwards, and see how well it works. Speaking of which, do you want to see this video I just took of you? It’s pure art, let me tell you.”

“I suppose so,” I replied, torn between curiosity and discomfort. I got up from the chair, and went to stand next to him. Again, be put his arm around me.

I was less impressed by my own performance than he had been, but perhaps, I thought to myself, all actors are their own worst critics. At any rate, I found myself cringing at the sight of my panties, shamefully and embarrassingly displayed between my spread thighs as I tapped at my phone. GG chuckled dirtily next to me. “Outstanding,” he remarked. “Very exciting!”

“I’m glad you think so,” I replied ruefully … which immediately struck me as an odd thing to say. My goal here was certainly not to excite this creepy old man. Or … was it? If a particular pose or view of my panties was exciting to GG, then presumably it would also be exciting to Ethan. But … gross! The thought of turning on my own great-grandfather … disgusting! The thought of him getting an erection on account of me … horrifying! But perhaps he was too old for that…?

“Now, let’s see you show off that lovely bottom of yourself,” said GG, and – to my alarm – he lowered his hand and gave my left buttock a gentle squeeze! And not even a brief one – it was a slow grasp and an even slower release. He had his hand on my bottom for perhaps three full seconds.

“I … I’ll give it a go,” I stammered, feeling rather shocked. “But GG … please could you not touch my bottom like that.”

The old man laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just couldn’t resist giving it a little squeeze. It’s so wonderfully round and firm! A perfect bottom! If you show it off to Ethan, he’s bound to feel compelled to touch it, to stroke it, to squeeze and caress it. Go on now – let’s see you bend over.”

He seemed totally oblivious of the magnitude of his offence. Perhaps in his day it was not even considered an offence at all. Perhaps it was not realistic of me to judge him by modern standards. At any rate, he was being very complimentary, and I was not immune to flattery. “Okay,” I said grudgingly. “You really think my bum’s that nice?”

“It’s top quality,” he assured me. “Take it from someone who’s seen a great many – and felt a fair few of them, too!”

I did not have anything to drop, so I just pretended. “Oops!” I said, dropping an imaginary pen. Then I bent over, my knees straight, my stomach cramping as I envisioned the view I was presenting to GG, who was no doubt recording it on video. I grabbed a handful of air next to the carpet, then straightened up again. Turning, I smiled bashfully. “I hope I didn’t show too much there, Ethan,” I said.

GG cackled as he put the tablet down. “Very good!” he said. “No panties that time, but it was highly sexy nonetheless! Well played, Robyn.”

I relaxed and smiled; it was good news on both fronts. I had not shown too much, and I had done a good job. “Thank you,” I said.

“For the next one,” said GG, “let’s really show off your knick… your panties. I think…”

“Do we have to?” I asked plaintively. “The first one did that. I think I’ve got the idea by now, and you said yourself I’m pretty good at it. Surely that’s enough? I’m just not comfortable…”

“And that’s the problem,” he interrupted me. “Your performances are good, but can you sustain them? Once you’ve flashed Ethan, what then? Right now I suspect that you’ll go right back into embarrassed mode, and look awkward and uncomfortable. You can pretend to be oblivious of how much you just showed Ethan, but if you blush and stammer afterwards, it’s not like he’s going to be fooled.”

My face fell. I had a feeling he was right. There was no getting around the fact that I would be feeling rather mortified inside, even if the effect on Ethan was to my benefit. “Perhaps it’s just not a good idea…” I ventured.

“Nonsense!” said GG. “You can absolutely do this. You just need more practice showing your panties. Desensitisation through repetition. We need to break down the barriers you’ve put up around yourself; get you comfortable with the idea of people seeing your undies.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered.

“Take off your dress,” said the old man.

I stared at him. “I … I’m sorry?”

“Take it off!” he said. “Don’t look so shocked; this is exactly what you need, and you know it. If we’re going to help you get over being visibly embarrassed whenever you show your panties, then you just need to bite the bullet and spend some time in the company of other people, with your panties fully exposed.”

I gulped. “I’m not sure I can do that…”

“Of course you can!” he replied. “I’m not asking you to do this in front of your school friends, or on the high street, with people laughing at you and mocking you – or worse, trying to assault you. This is a safe space, nothing’s going to happen to you, I’ll have only nice things to say … it’s the perfect place for you to get used to being exposed.”

I bit my lip. I felt a little dizzy. “It’s still … embarrassing…”

“I’m sure it is,” said GG, “but I have no doubt you can do it. If you can’t even take your dress off in front of an elderly family member, you’re going to be a nervous wreck when it comes to taking it off in front of Ethan. You can do this, Robyn. But … I suppose there’s no harm in doing it in small steps. How about you start by just lifting up the front of your dress, to expose your panties, and holding it there for a while?”

I did not even want to do that, but it was a reasonable compromise, and I did not want to seem like a complete failure. “I can do that,” I admitted.

He raised his tablet. “Go ahead.”

“I’d rather you didn’t take photos or videos though!” I objected.

“Robyn, this is a learning experience for you,” he replied. “I’ll need these photos and videos later on, for you to review, so you can remind yourself of what you’re capable of. And perhaps to demonstrate how far you’ve come. So come on now – lift up that dress, there’s a good girl.”

With an unhappy whimper, I reached down and took hold of the front of my dress with both hands. I could not reach the hem without bending over, so I just used my fingers to gather up the material, working it higher and higher until I was clutching the hem and a couple of folds of the soft fabric. Then I flexed my elbows, drawing the dress upward, gradually revealing my panties. I could tell the exact moment they popped into view for GG; he grinned, and his eyes – riveted to my crotch area – widened in obvious excitement. I felt both embarrassed and resentful: he might be pushing me into this for my own benefit, but he was enjoying the process way too much.

“Keep going, keep going!” he encouraged me, as I paused.

I continued pulling my dress up, until I figured my panties were fully revealed.

“Marvellous!” he said gleefully. “Such pretty panties! There’s a certain elegance to plain white, don’t you think? And those scalloped edges and the little bow at the front – delightful!”

“They’re quite new,” I said, my deep mortification somewhat mitigated by his compliments.

“Give me a nice smile,” said GG, staring at his screen. “I’m switching from video to photo.”

I smiled sheepishly. Then, after an uncomfortable silence, and assuming he must have taken at least one photo by now, I said, “Can I … cover my panties again now…?”

“Nope!” he replied, looking up at me. “Give me a couple of nice poses, with your panties completely uncovered. The idea here is to get you comfortable with showing them off, remember.”

My heart sank, but I nodded. Sitting down on the chair, I leaned back, stretching my legs out in front of me and crossing my ankles, while holding my dress up around my waist.

“Splendid!” said GG, taking a photo. “And another!”

I went through several more poses, and I had to admit, he was right – it did get easier as I became more and more accustomed to showing him my panties. His feedback was always encouraging, and when I got down on my hands and knees on the floor, facing away from him and smiling back at him over my shoulder, he actually laughed in delight.

“The best one yet!” he exclaimed. “Incredibly sexy, Robyn! Yet in a totally unforced, natural manner. You’d give professional models a run for their money, honestly.”

I blushed. I could hardly believe I was showing off my bottom, clad only in a pair of white panties, for my great-grandfather’s camera … and even sort of enjoying doing so. Had someone told me that morning, as I was getting ready for church, that this was how I would be spending my afternoon, I would have laughed in their face. Yet here I was, my dress hiked up around my waist, exposing myself to an undeniably creepy old man. How had I let him talk me into this?

“All right,” said GG. “Stand up and face away from me, then smile back at me over your shoulder.”

I did as he instructed, keeping the bottom of my dress gathered up above the waistband of my panties. I met his gaze, and he grinned.

“I think you’re ready now,” he said. “Pull that dress all the way up, over your head, and off entirely.”

I froze, feeling anxious. I had known this was coming, of course … but part of me had hoped that exposing my panties would be enough. Taking my dress off completely was technically not much worse than pulling it up to show my panties … but it felt worse. With my dress held up around my waist, I knew it was still there, like a safety net: I could drop it down over my panties whenever I wanted. But if it was off, I would be that much more vulnerable.

“The sooner you get it over with, the easier it will be,” said GG gently. “If you work yourself up into a tizzy, you’ll undo all we’ve been trying to achieve. Best to just whip it off, like a plaster.”

My panties were already showing, and my back was to him so he would not see the front of my bra. This was not that big of a deal. Taking a deep breath, I unzipped the side of the dress, then pulled it up and over my head.

“Well done!” said GG. “Now fold up the dress neatly, and bring it to me.”

Unsure why he wanted me to do this, and feeling a little uneasy, I folded up my dress. When it came to turning around, I hesitated … but then I took another deep breath, and turned, putting on a brave smile. As GG, holding the tablet up in his right hand, extended his left to take the dress, I handed it to him.

“Good!” he said, his watery eyes fixed on my bra. “Now stand back, and pose for me.”

I felt very exposed and embarrassed, but as I went through a few different poses, I began to relax again … just as GG had predicted I would. More and more, it seemed that he knew what he was talking about when it came to this kind of thing. One pose, however, made me feel more uncomfortable than the rest.

“Yes, like a lion or tiger, facing off against a rival,” he said, having asked me to get down on all fours, facing away from him.

“But … if I’m on my elbows, my bottom’s really going to be sticking up,” I said nervously. “It just seems rather … lewd. Couldn’t I be facing you?”

“Robyn, the idea is to show off that lovely bottom of yours!” he replied with a chuckle. “Don’t be afraid to display it; it’s one of your most effective tools when it comes to enticing a boy. Ethan will be putty in your hands – you’ll see. Come on – you’ve done very well so far. Let me show you just how sexy you can be.”

I reluctantly dropped to my elbows, arching my back and sticking my bottom up as he had instructed me. It felt very weird to be displaying myself in so vulgar a fashion to my creepy great-grandfather, and if he had asked me to do this ten minutes ago, I would have refused point blank … but the gradual process of desensitising me to showing off my panties was, in fact, working.

“That’s great,” said GG, sounding a little breathless. “Wonderful. But something’s not quite right…. Ah yes! Try moving your knees apart – no, more than that … let’s say a couple of feet apart.”

“GG…” I protested, “I’m a little uncomfortable about the view you have…”

“That’s the whole point!” he replied. “If you only do things you’re comfortable doing, you won’t expand the range of experiences with which you’re comfortable. Now I’m not suggesting you pose like this in front of Ethan … at least not immediately … but if you can get comfortable with this, some lesser form of exposure will be a breeze! And Ethan will marvel at your newfound confidence, and his opinion of you will, I guarantee it, improve enormously.”

“I suppose that would be good,” I conceded, and I moved my knees further apart.

“Ohhh, yesss,” he sighed, sounding happy. “Now … slowly gyrate your hips. There’s a name for that, I think? Terking, or something?”

“Twerking,” I said, amused despite my embarrassment. And I began to gyrate my hips as he had instructed me.

“Excellent,” he gasped, and I heard his bed creak. I looked back over my shoulder, suddenly anxious, to see that he had got up from his bed.

“Just trying a different angle,” he said. “And I needed to straighten up – for my back, you know.”

“Oh … okay,” I said.

“Keep up the twerking,” he encouraged me, “until it no longer bothers you that you’re doing it in front of me.”

I turned my head forward again, and stared down at my hands. “That could take a while,” I said glumly.

“No problem!” he said. “We’ve still got plenty of time.”

So I continued gyrating, feeling highly self-conscious. I heard a very soft, barely audible thud behind me, but thought nothing of it … until GG’s silence prompted me to look back over my shoulder again. To my surprise, and mild indignation, my great-grandfather was looking downward, out of the window. It occurred to me that he may have just opened and closed it, based on the sound I had just heard.

“GG?” I inquired politely.

He turned back toward me, and grinned. “Try not to get upset,” he said, “but I just dropped your dress out of the window.”

I got to my feet in a hurry, horrified. “You what???” I shrieked.

“Don’t get upset!” he repeated. “It’s all in a good cause, and no harm will come of it, I promise you. I’ll go outside and retrieve it before your parents come back to pick you up.”

“But…” I exclaimed, gesticulating wildly, “why did you do it??”

“To get rid of your safety net,” he said calmly, sitting down on his bed. “It’s one thing to be around people in your underwear when you can get dressed in a few seconds if you need to. It’s quite another to be stuck in your undies, unable to get dressed.”

“Yes!” I agreed. “It’s not fun! Please go and get my dress, GG!” My tone was pleading – almost a whine.

But he shook his head. “Robyn, you’re going to leave here a confident young woman – fully dressed and ready to knock Ethan’s socks off, next time you see him. But until then you’re going to have to endure some embarrassment and discomfort … just as you have been doing up until now, and coping with it very well I might add. You’re going to stay in your underwear, and the longer you do, the braver and more confident you will get.

I groaned as I sat down in the armchair. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take!” I said.

GG chuckled. “You’re being melodramatic,” he said. “You’re quite capable of handling this; if I had any doubts about that, I wouldn’t have tossed your dress outside. You have more strength than you realise, Robyn.”

That was all very well, but I was still upset with him. “What if someone comes by and picks it up?” I demanded.

“Unlikely,” he replied, apparently unconcerned by the possibility, “since we’re at the side of the building and people generally don’t wander around outside just here. But if someone does happen upon it and picks it up, they’ll most likely hand it in at reception, and I’ll pick it up from there. Relax, Robyn! I’ll take full responsibility if something goes wrong. But nothing will. You’ll be dressed again before you know it.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” I grumbled. “So what do you want me to do now? Just hang out in my bra and panties for the next however long?”

“That would be a start,” GG acknowledged. “Let’s get rid of the shoes. They look a little odd in conjunction with your underwear, if I’m honest.”

Although my shoes did not cover anything important, and I would ordinarily not feel remotely embarrassed about being seen barefoot, I felt a strange reluctance to take them off. Once I did, I would be down to just two items of clothing, instead of four.

“Come on Robyn,” said GG, a little impatiently. “It’s only your feet.”

He was right, of course, but I nevertheless felt a little pang as I took off first one, then the other. Setting them down next to the chair, I sighed regretfully.

“Good!” said GG. “Now toss them out of the window, so they can join your dress.”

“What??” I gasped.

“In for a penny, in for a pound, Robyn!” said the old man firmly. “You might as well keep your discarded clothes together. As with your dress, I’ll retrieve your shoes before your parents arrive. You’ll get them all back at once, I promise you.”

“Can’t you, you know, retrieve my dress now, and put it somewhere a little safer, with my shoes?” I asked him, a little desperately. “I’m worried something will happen to them outside. What if … what if a fox comes along, and grabs my dress and runs off with it? Or one of my shoes?”

“Now now, Robyn,” GG chided me gently. “Let’s not get paranoid. Your dress and your shoes will be perfectly safe just outside my window. And it’s best if we keep them in one place. I’ll make you a deal, though: if you can get to the point where I judge that you’re ready to seduce this Ethan chap, by the time your parents pick you up … I’ll not only give your dad a glowing report about your good behaviour, but I’ll give you some valuable tips on how to deal with the inevitable backlash from Ethan’s soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. What was her name again? Sandy?”

“Zandy,” I corrected him. Backlash? I had not considered this. But yes … she did seem like the type to hold a grudge. “You think she’ll try to make trouble?”

“If you steal her boyfriend?” said GG. “Of course. Which is why you’ll need some leverage against her. Is she on, um, social media…?”

I smirked. Old people. “Of course she is,” I said. “Everyone is. Zandy’s all about Instagram – she goes by the handle Zandyfloss. But I don’t think I can get much leverage there; everyone knows about her account and what she does on it. I don’t think she has any dirty secrets.”

GG chuckled. “Everyone has secrets,” he said. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. A girl like that … her weak spot is her vanity. Her self-worth is likely tied to how many followers she has, and preserving her online image will be of paramount importance to her. If she gives you trouble, that’s where you hit her.”

I stared at him. That idea actually sounded very shrewd and insightful. Perhaps GG really was an ideal mentor for me. “How?” I asked him.

“We’ll get to that later,” he said. “Patience! For now, let’s focus on putting your shoes outside.”

I grimaced, but nodded. Picking up my shoes, I walked over to the window, and opened it. Down below, on the ground about five feet below the floor of this room, lay my dress. It was still folded, mostly – it had apparently begun to open up a bit as it fell. The grass around it looked scruffy and clumpy, but fairly short, as if it had been mowed recently. With a sigh, I dropped my shoes; one landed on my dress and bounced off, while the other landed almost flat on its sole about a foot away, and came to rest immediately. I gulped as I closed the window. I was now wearing only my bra and panties, and until GG retrieved my dress and shoes, I had no way of putting any more clothes on, unless I went outside myself.

“Okay,” said GG. “You’re in your underwear. And coping with that very well, I must say. But I’m old, and I’m family, and I’ve been nothing but encouraging, so it’s been relatively easy for you so far.”

“I wouldn’t say that!” I responded. “I’m feeling very anxious!”

The old man nodded. “Of course. But – and I don’t mean to doubt you or downplay the strength of your feelings – it’s a relatively low level of anxiety compared with how you’d feel if you found yourself dressed like this in front of someone whose opinion really mattered to you … like Ethan.”

“I … I suppose so,” I conceded. “But if I were with Ethan … I don’t know … I think I’d also feel excited. It would be a different kind of anxiety. I wouldn’t mind it so much.”

GG nodded. “It’s easy to imagine that,” he said, “while you’re safe and not in that situation. But don’t underestimate your brain’s ability and tendency to sabotage you at the worst possible time. The last thing you want is to freeze up in Ethan’s presence, make a mess of the encounter, and blow your one opportunity with him.”

“Oh goodness!” I fretted. That would indeed be a nightmare come true. “How can I prevent that?”

“Just keep following my lead,” said GG simply. “You’re well on the way already. You see, the problem is that these things … you can wait for ages for them to happen at all, but when they do, they happen quickly. And you won’t get a chance to rehearse, or prepare yourself. You’ll find yourself caught up in a whirlwind of emotion, and lust, and excitement, and his hands will be all over you, and his tongue will be in your mouth, and it’ll be hard to think … and that’s when inexperience will rear its ugly head and trip you up at the worst possible moment. The key is to prepare now, so that if and when you suddenly find yourself in that situation, you can handle it with aplomb.”

I nodded. But I still did not know what he wanted me to do next. “So…”

He smiled, and got to his feet. “Why don’t you accompany me back to the common room?”

My stomach lurched. “Wh…what?” I stammered. “Like this? Are you crazy?”

“Trust me,” he said calmly. “You’ll be a hit. You’re a lovely girl, and your underwear is pretty. Think of yourself as a lingerie model, parading your sponsor’s fashions on the most prestigious catwalk in Paris. Go out there with confidence, own your beauty and sexiness, and enjoy the positive attention.”

I felt myself beginning to sweat. “Um, I don’t think so, GG! It’s not the positive attention I’m worried about! I’ll get into trouble!”

“No you won’t,” said GG dismissively. “You’ll be fine. Just let me do the talking, and follow my lead.”

“But why?” I demanded. “What good will this do?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you ask, Robyn. This is all part of the same process – the goal being to get you comfortable being underdressed in a situation outside your comfort zone. The more ways we do this, the more cool and confident you’ll be when you finally get to be alone with Ethan. Seducing him with flashes of your panties will work … but you’ve got to be able to follow that up. He’s not going to be satisfied with just looking up your skirt, you know, once he gets you alone.”

“Well yes,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush. “I know that, obviously.”

“Let me lay out a possible future scenario for you,” GG continued, his expression grave. “Ethan goes to school on a Monday morning, and his mates gather round him. ‘I heard you spent yesterday afternoon with Robyn Bluth,’ says one of them. ‘How did that go?’ ‘Oh,’ says Ethan with a shrug. ‘You know – it was okay. She’s a little inexperienced.’ ‘You nailed her, right?’ says another friend. ‘Well sure,’ says Ethan, ‘but we’re not going to become a couple or anything. She’s a pretty girl, but not really in my league, you know? She was like a timid little bunny; so nervous and awkward – she froze up and was just lying there all stiff while I was banging her. She had no idea what to do.’ ‘Did you cum in her?’ asks another chap eagerly. ‘No, are you serious?’ says Ethan. ‘And risk getting her preggers? I don’t want to be stuck with her, Jeez! No, I pulled out and decorated her face.’ And then one of his friends…”

“Ethan wouldn’t say all that!” I protested hotly. “He’s a nice boy! He’s not some arsehole!”

GG chuckled. “Obviously I don’t know the lad,” he said. “But I do know when boys are around each other, they don’t act and talk the same way as when they’re around girls. Perhaps he would be kinder than I portrayed him. But my point still stands: an experienced boy is going to be used to experienced, confident girls. If you want your one big chance with him to go well, you need to make sure you approach that encounter with confidence. When you undress, or when he undresses you, you’ll need to be relaxed and comfortable. Then you’ll enjoy the experience more, it’ll go better, and he’ll be more impressed and happy with you. And then, with luck, he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend.”

I swallowed, and nodded. “That’s the goal!” I said with a nervous laugh.

“Come on then,” said GG, getting up and shuffling toward the door.

“Wait!” I said in a rather strangled voice. “What if … what if the staff here see me? And tell my dad?”

“I’ll handle it!” he replied firmly. “If necessary I’ll handle your dad, but it shouldn’t come to that. I’ll deal with the staff, if I have to – just don’t worry about it. Your job is to stay calm and confident, and not panic about being in your underwear around strangers.” He opened the door, and turned to smile at me. “Catwalk model, remember? You can do this, Robyn.” He held out his hand.

I nervously stepped forward and took it, and he led me slowly through the doorway. Panic filled me, and I glanced wildly up and down the corridor as he closed the door behind me. But nobody was around.

“I can’t do this!” I told him earnestly. “GG, I just can’t!”

“Yes you can,” he said calmly. “Take my hand, and we’ll walk together to the common room. You look fabulous, so just relax, take a deep breath, and be a proud, sexy woman showing off her pretty underwear.”

I took his hand, and breathed deeply several times. Feeling light-headed, I walked slowly alongside him down to the end of the corridor, and then right, through the open doorway and into the common room, where all eyes seemed to turn instantly towards me and all conversation ceased.

I wanted to bolt. But GG did not say anything to his startled fellow residents; he merely led me over to the chair in which he had been sitting when we first arrived. Far from feeling and acting like a catwalk model, I hunched my shoulders and gripped my left elbow with my free right hand as I tottered along on my toes, wishing a hole in the floor would open and swallow me up.

My great-grandfather let go of my hand, turned around, and slowly lowered himself into the chair. Then he smiled up at me. “Now, why don’t you sit on my lap, like you were doing before?”

“I’m in my underwear!” I said in a low, wretched voice. “I’d feel … silly.”

“You’ll look sillier, just standing there all hunched up like that,” GG remarked. “Come on – park your bot.” He patted his thighs.

In truth I really did want to sit down, if only to prevent people behind me from staring at my bottom. Making my mind up quickly, I turned and sat down sideways on GG’s lap.

Another elderly gentleman was making his way over to us. I looked up, and caught his eye. He grinned. “Hello there!” he said. “You seem to have lost some clothing, young lady!” He had a good-natured smile, was relatively well-groomed, and seemed in general far less creepy than GG.

“Robyn, I’d like you to meet Ollie,” said GG, putting his arms around my waist. “Ollie, this is my great-granddaughter, Robyn. She’s a shy little thing, and I’m helping her work on her self-confidence.”

“By making her go around in her undies?” Ollie inquired.

“I’m not ‘making’ her do anything,” said GG, unruffled. “She’s been making her own choices. I’m just helping her to feel more comfortable and confident in her skin. You know how insecure teenagers can be.”

Ollie nodded. “Well, Robyn, for whatever my opinion is worth, you’ve got nothing to be insecure about. You’re a beautiful young woman.”

I smiled at him. He seemed so nice! “Thank you,” I said. “I’m feeling very exposed! But I know GG’s just trying to help me.”

“Hmm,” said Ollie. “Well if he asks you to take off your bra, just say no!”

I giggled nervously. “I’m sure he won’t do that,” I said.

“We’ll see,” said GG, with a little chuckle, as Ollie turned to leave.

I looked at him in concern. “You … you’re not seriously going to ask me to take my bra off, are you?”

“I might,” GG conceded. “Let’s see how things go. But Robyn, do you think Ethan will let you keep your bra on?”

I blushed. “That’s different,” I said. “I’ll be glad to take off my bra for him.”

“Will you though?” GG inquired. “Until you’re in that situation, you can’t know how you’ll react. My guess is that’s you’ll be scared to do it … and understandably so. You’ve no idea what he’ll think of your breasts. How will they measure up, in his opinion, compared with little miss Zandyfloss? What will ANY adult man think of your breasts? You can’t and won’t know until you get them out in male company, and receive some feedback. If one man isn’t keen on them, another might be. If five out of five think they’re gorgeous, then you can be confident Ethan will love them too.” Then he smiled. “But don’t worry, pet – I know you’re not yet ready to take off your bra. Leave that thing alone for the time being, and just get used to being here among my friends in your underwear.”

I felt a little shell-shocked. But I was grateful at least that he was not immediately going to ask me to take off my bra. I had no intention of doing so, but the old man was worryingly persuasive, and even just the notion that he might ask me to go topless was enough to make me hyperventilate.

Another old man was approaching. This one was hunched over, and moved slowly, with the help of a cane. He was bald, his head was covered in flaky skin, and his open mouth was drooling slightly. “All right, Bernie?” he asked in a gravelly voice. He seemed even creepier than GG, if that was possible. “Who’s this young totty?”

“This is my great-granddaughter, Robyn,” said GG. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

“Phwoar, yeah,” croaked the newcomer. “Lovely little thing.” He was blatantly staring at my bra.

“This is Freddie,” said GG. “He’s ninety years old! Can you believe it? He doesn’t look a day over eighty-nine.”

“Pleased to meet you, Freddie,” I said politely.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why are you so … undressed?” Freddie asked.

“She was hot,” GG explained. “I told her it would be fine if she took off her dress.”

I gasped, and turned toward him. “GG!” I exclaimed, as he burst out laughing. I turned back to Freddie. “That’s not it at all! GG is trying to help me get more comfortable with being … undressed … in order to build my confidence.”

Freddie chuckled. “You’re a rascal, Bernie!” he said. “But a lucky one. What I wouldn’t give to have such a lovely young girl on my lap!”

“Well…” said GG, hesitantly. He looked at me. “Why don’t you sit on Freddie’s lap for a few minutes? It would make his day, and it would further our efforts to desensitise you to being undressed around men.”

“Um,” I said, alarmed, “I don’t think…”

“I know you don’t know him at all,” GG continued smoothly, “but then again, you barely know me either, do you?”

“But … you’re family,” I mumbled. “It’s a bit different.”

“It is,” GG acknowledged. “But does that mean it’s bad? Not at all. I mean, look at Freddie. He’s ancient! Even more ancient than I am. You’re not exactly in any danger from him. He’ll just enjoy having a pretty young girl on his lap. Think of it as an act of charity.”

This suggestion seemed a little shady. “I’m not sure I should be using my body for acts of charity,” I said unhappily.

“Using your … goodness, Robyn!” said GG, sounding shocked. “Anyone would think I’d asked you to have sex with him! Dear oh dear – I’m not suggesting anything sexual or weird or improper. An old man can enjoy the company of a young woman on a purely platonic level, you know. When you get to our age, you’ll understand. It’s all about cherishing youth, and life, and energy, and vigour – the things we’ve long since left behind. Well – we’re still alive, of course…”

“Arguably!” Freddie quipped.

“Technically,” said GG with a grin. “The point is … you mustn’t think of this as performing a sexual favour.”

“It’s a little hard not to,” I countered peevishly, “when I’m in my underwear and a man wants me to sit on his lap!”

“She’s right, you know, Bernie,” said Freddie unexpectedly. “Regardless of intent, if a girl as lovely and sexy as Robyn here is sitting on my lap … I’m going to get aroused.”

Surprised, but grateful for the support, I turned back to GG. “You see?” I challenged him.

GG shrugged. “A reaction like that is natural, and perhaps inevitable,” he said. “But it’s hardly the goal, and you probably wouldn’t even notice. Can you even get it up these days, Freddie?”

“For a beauty like this … maybe!” said Freddie. “But … honestly, I don’t know.”

“Well, I think it’s unlikely,” said GG. “I don’t think your todger’s pointing anywhere but south these days, Freddie. Not without Viagra. But if … Robyn, IF by some chance you do feel a stirring of Freddie’s loins beneath you … wouldn’t it be a wonderful validation of how sexy you are?”

“I’m not sure I want my sexiness validated that way!” I said grumpily. “I don’t want to feel his … whatever … stirring beneath me.”

“Think of it as practice,” GG suggested. “You’re going to have to get used to the idea of causing – and dealing with – men’s erections. When you’re sitting on Ethan’s lap and feel his trouser snake growing beneath you, are you going to run off in a panic? Or handle it with confidence?”

“I … I don’t know,” I admitted, thinking there was probably an option C, where I neither ran off nor handled it especially well. “I’d rather practise with Ethan though…”

“You might only get the only chance,” GG pointed out. “Anyway, have a seat, Freddie, before you topple over.”

A nearby chair sat empty, and Freddie made for it with all the speed of a tortoise wading through treacle. When he finally sat down, GG patted my thigh. “Off you go,” he said. “Make Freddie’s day. But remember that the primary beneficiary will be you yourself. I know this is uncomfortable, but that’s the point. The more of these situations you put yourself in, the more versatile you’ll become. Then if Ethan asks you to do something you’re not expecting, you’ll be better prepared to respond in a way that impresses him.”

I swallowed nervously, as Freddie grinned at me. I had absolutely no desire to sit on his lap, but if there was a chance it would help my first intimate encounter with Ethan go smoothly, then perhaps I should just go through with it. Putting on a brave smile, I got up from GG’s lap, and went over to Freddie, my hands clasped self-consciously in front of my panties.

He patted his thighs. “Turn around and make yourself comfortable,” he said.

‘Comfortable’ was not exactly how I was feeling as I settled myself on to Freddie’s lap. I warily eyed an elderly gentleman in the next chair along; he was watching me through thick glasses and grinning excitedly. He was almost impressively unattractive, with a protruding lower jaw and a huge hairy mole just below his left eye. Next to him was an old lady, fast asleep in her armchair.

“Ooh, yes, mmm, you’re a lovely girl aren’t you?” Freddie remarked happily, putting his arms around my middle and pulling me firmly against his torso.

“What on Earth’s going on here?” demanded a female voice. I turned my head quickly toward the entrance, and saw a stern-looking woman in a nurse’s uniform bearing down on us. She had red hair with a few streaks of grey, and a slender, wiry figure.

“Oh gosh!” I gasped. Instinctively I tried to jump up from Freddie’s lap, but he had apparently clasped his hands together with interlocking fingers. My upward motion was abruptly halted, and I fell back on to his lap.

“Calm down, Robyn,” said GG. “I’ll handle this.” Ah yes – he had assured me I would not get into trouble. Well perhaps he was right, but if not, it might actually be a good thing. The whole story would come out, and I would at least get my clothes back.

“You can explain why there’s a semi-naked teenager on Mr Ballard’s lap?” the woman inquired, coming to a halt about six feet away, and putting her hands on her hips. She glared at me in disapproval.

“This is my great-granddaughter, Robyn,” said GG. “Her parents – my grandson Melvin and his lovely wife Diana – decided she should spend the afternoon with me, so she could learn from my wisdom and experience. I was planning to tell her stories of life in the fifties and sixties, you know … but it soon became clear she has some self-esteem issues – shyness, insecurity about her body, that sort of thing. I thought it might be good for her to spend some time in her underwear around people who would be vocally appreciative of her loveliness.”

“You did, did you?” said the nurse, folding her arms and arching an eyebrow. She looked rather amused. “And you and your friends are being purely altruistic in expressing your appreciation, I suppose?”

“Of course!” said GG. “At least … well, I’d be lying if I said it was unpleasant to have such an attractive visitor, showing so much skin.”

The nurse chuckled. “I’m sure,” she said. “And she’s on Mr Ballard’s lap because…?”

“Ah,” said GG, “yes. Well, there’s this boy she’s interested in, but she has no experience with boys and is afraid she’ll make a fool of herself. We’re just teaching her some of the dos and don’ts – just basic stuff, like how to get his attention with visual cues, and sitting on his lap … that sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh,” said the nurse, her eyes narrowing a little.

“Robyn, this is Nurse Sheila,” said GG. “She keeps this place running like a well-oiled machine. Very dedicated woman; we all love her to bits.”

Nurse Sheila smirked. “Trying to butter me up, Mr Higson?” she inquired. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to throw out your little friend – sorry, granddaughter. I’m sure all you men will appreciate the morale boost. Just don’t cause any trouble! Or I’ll deny all knowledge.” She looked me up and down again, with an expression that looked almost like a sneer, and then she turned on her heel and walked away.

“There, you see?” said GG. “Not a problem.”

“Nicely done, Bernie!” cackled Freddie.

“How are you feeling there, Freddie?” asked GG. “Anything stirring?”

“Alas no,” said Freddie. “As pleasant as this is, my old pork sausage needs a little more help. Sheila’s untimely arrival didn’t help, sadly.”

“Hmm,” said GG. “Robyn, you know how you were doing that terking thing earlier…”

“Twerking,” I corrected him.

“That’s the one,” said GG. “Could you do that now? On Freddie’s lap? It might massage a little life back into him.”

My jaw dropped as I stared at him. I couldn’t believe what he was asking me to do. “GG!” I squealed. “I … I can’t do that! Isn’t that like … a lap dance?”

“Oh, you know about lap dances, do you?” GG inquired, surprised. “Well, I’m not suggesting a full lap dance, obviously – just a bit of nice sensual wiggling, to get Freddie’s blood flowing. It’ll be good practice for you. You might want to do it with Ethan pretty soon! It would help if you’ve already developed some level of proficiency by then.”

“I don’t think that’s a skill I should be practising on strange old men!” I said, feeling both indignant and mortified at the prospect. Then I realised how that sounded, and immediately felt the need to clarify. “Um, I don’t mean any offence, but I barely know either of you.”

“That’s a fair point,” conceded GG, “but on the other hand, isn’t that exactly why a man like Freddie is an ideal person to practise on? As you say, he’s old, so he’s no threat to you. He’s not likely to come between you and Ethan. Can you imagine if you tried giving a lap dance to a platonic male friend of yours? Someone your own age? What if he fell for you? What if he got so aroused he just had to kiss you? Or if he tried to do more, against your will? Even if that didn’t happen, wouldn’t things be really awkward between the two of you, afterwards? You could lose that friend. But with Freddie … it doesn’t matter! As you said, you barely know him, so there’s no risk of losing a friendship, or of one-sided passions developing. This is a safe zone, where you can practise this sort of thing without consequence.”

I felt trapped. I definitely did not want to grind my bottom against an elderly friend of my great-grandfather … but GG’s arguments were undeniably sound. “I … I suppose I could give it a try,” I said reluctantly.

“Good girl!” said GG, grinning triumphantly. “Let’s put some music on. Hey, Maggie!”

A wrinkled, hunched old lady in the far corner looked up and smiled at GG. “Oh!” she said. “Hello.”

“Maggie, can you turn on the radio please?” said GG. “Simply Sixties – channel three.”

“You want me to twerk to sixties music?” I asked, grimacing at the thought.

“Why not?” asked GG in surprise. “Greatest decade for pop music. And I say that as someone who grew up in the fifties!”

“Yeah but … all that stuff is really old now,” I grumbled. But even as I said this, I realised I could not really expect a room full of old people to connect with the music of my own generation. “I’ll do my best,” I said with a sigh.

“That’s all I ask,” said GG. “Hit it, Maggie!”

The song that was playing when Maggie turned on the radio was, by an amusing coincidence, called “The Hippy Hippy Shake” – or so I guessed, from the fact that this was the most oft-repeated phrase in the song. It was not very twerkable, but as GG gestured encouragingly at me, I began wiggling my bottom in time to the music.

“Oh!” said Freddie behind me. “Oh yes – that’s nice.”

“Can you feel a lump growing beneath you, Robyn?” asked GG eagerly.

I was beyond grossed out, but fortunately, I could feel no such thing. “No,” I said, very relieved.

“Oh,” said GG, seeming disappointed. “Well, keep trying.”

The song was already coming to an end, however, and as the final note faded away, the DJ’s voice broke in: “The Swinging Blue Jeans there, with their 1963 hit, Hippy Hippy Shake. Now we fast-forward to 1967 – it’s our old friends The Doors…”

Another song began, this one much slower and less bouncy than the last. “Before you slip into unconsciousness…” began the lyrics, and since it was clearly not a dance number, I stopped moving my hips.

“Ohhh, keep going!” Freddie urged me. “I’m getting there. Perhaps if you turn around…”

“That’s a good idea,” said GG. “Turn around, Robyn, and straddle his lap. Then you can grind against him in time to the music.”

“It’s a bit of a slow pace,” I said doubtfully, getting up from Freddie’s lap.

“No problem!” said GG. “Just do a slow grind. Slow and sensual. It’ll be good practice! Give it a try.”

I reluctantly turned to face Freddie, whose arms were stretched out towards me as he excitedly beckoned me to approach him. I stepped astride his skinny thighs and sat down carefully, holding on to his shoulders as I settled my weight down on his lap, my knees either side of his waist. His wooden chair was comfortably upholstered, but had no arms, which unfortunately made it ideal for this sort of position.

“That’s it!” GG encouraged me. “Good girl.”

In time with the music, I gyrated my hips, trying not to look too disgusted as I avoided Freddie’s eager gaze. “Come in a bit closer,” he said, grasping my hips and pulling me right up against him. My pussy, protected only by my flimsy panties, was now grinding against the front of his trousers. I shuddered as I felt a firm but yielding lump there, lurking beneath his zip.

“Oh yes!” he gasped. “This is wonderful!”

“Can you feel anything yet?” GG asked me, sounding a little impatient.

“Yes,” I admitted. “Not that I want to! But I think he’s getting … um … hard…”

“I am!” Freddie confirmed. “What a feeling! I haven’t had a treat like this in ever so long! Not since … not since…” His voice cracked a little, and I glanced at his face. To my surprise, a tear was running down his left cheek.

It suddenly occurred to me that this man – whom I had mentally categorised as just some old creep – was a real person who had been through a lifetime’s worth of experiences. At some point he had probably been married, but was now alone, stuck in a declining body in a place he would not escape except in a coffin. I felt sorry for him. Yes, what I was doing was gross and uncomfortable … from my point of view. But what if it was the last bit of genuine pleasure this old man was likely to experience?

It was this thought that kept me grinding my pussy against the growing lump in his trousers, when my instincts were trying to tell me to jump up and run screaming out of the room. But then he hugged me, pulling me fully against him and wrapping his arms around my back. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you dear.”

“You’re … welcome,” I said awkwardly, patting his shoulders. But then I gasped as I felt his hands tugging at the clasp of my bra, and a loosening of the garment that told me he had unfastened it. “Hey!” I reached up behind my back to fix it.

GG cackled. “Leave it be,” he said. “Just let it hang loose for a while. I said you’d be going topless eventually, didn’t I? Consider this a small step in that direction, to ease you into it. Don’t worry – if you’re careful, your breasts will stay covered for the moment.”

I turned and stared at him. “But I … I … my straps might slip off my shoulders…” I protested anxiously.

“You’ll notice if they are about to,” he assured me. “You can keep tugging them back up. But, you know – don’t feel you have to.” He grinned.

Freddie was still holding me tightly, and he was breathlessly grinding the now-firm lump in his trousers against my pussy, since I had stopped doing the reverse.

I felt nauseous. But then, thankfully, the song came to an end, and I had an excuse to get off Freddie’s lap. My bra felt perilously loose as I stood up straight, and I clamped my hands against opposite shoulders, crossing my forearms in front of my chest as I held my bra in place. Then I thought to myself, ‘This is ridiculous! Why shouldn’t I fasten my bra?’ And I reached behind my back, and re-fastened the clasp.

“That’s a shame,” said GG, sounding disappointed. “A step backwards.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a little guilty, though I was not sure why. “I just didn’t feel…”

“Comfortable,” GG finished, nodding. “I know. That’s why you should have left it undone. But never mind. Wally looks like he wants the next lap dance; why don’t you try a combination this time? Start with a little dance, then twerk on his lap, both forwards and backwards?”

Wally was the atrociously ugly man in thick glasses, to Freddie’s left. He was grinning at me hopefully. The song that was now playing was unfamiliar to me, but the lyrics, now that I started paying attention to them, we’re going something like “…this will be our last goodbye, though the carnival is over, I will love you ‘til I die.” It was good music for swaying in place; twerking, not so much.

“Go on,” GG encouraged me. “The more practice at this you get, the more natural it will feel to do it for Ethan. And the more impressed and aroused he’ll be. Remember why you’re doing this! Focus on the goal. Just imagine Wally is Ethan; show us what you would do if the two of you were alone in his bedroom.”

Not listening to sixties music, that was for sure. Nevertheless, thinking about Ethan did help, and I pictured myself standing in front of him, in my underwear, dancing while he smiled excitedly at me. I began to sway in front of Wally, putting some extra hip into it for good measure. This seemed to go down well; Wally looked delighted, and I heard cheers and clapping from GG and Freddie behind me.

As embarrassed as I was to be so underdressed in front of these old men, I could not help feeling a little pleased that I was apparently doing something right. I turned around and bent over, sticking my bottom out and swaying it back and forth in front of Wally. Then I backed up, sitting down on his lap and grinding my bottom against his crotch. He was already hard; I could feel that immediately. I grimaced, but kept moving, until I felt his fingers fumbling at the clasp of my bra.

I quickly got up and turned around, but too late: my bra felt open at the back again. With the garment hanging loosely, I frowned in annoyance at the grinning old man, but I prepared to straddle his lap anyway. He had done no worse than Freddie.

The problem was that unlike Freddie, Wally was sitting in an armchair. I could not straddle him in the same way. Improvising, I climbed on to the chair, slipping my feet between the outside of Wally thighs and the chair’s armrests, then sat down on his lap, my knees up by my shoulders.

“Ooh yes!” said Wally, his voice thin and scratchy. “What a lovely young girl you are! Give us a kiss, love.” He puckered his lips.

I shuddered in disgust, and shook my head. But behind me, GG cackled and said, “Oh go on, Robyn! Just a little kiss. It won’t do you any harm, and it’ll be such a thrill for Wally! His wife died thirty years ago and he’s been single ever since. Also, it’ll be good practice! Just pretend he’s Ethan!”

But I did not want to pretend this hideous old man was Ethan. Sitting on him like this, grinding my panty-clad pussy against the lump in his trousers, was bad enough; kissing him would be the icing on my cringe cake. “I’m not going to kiss you, Wally!” I firmly told the old man in front of me.

His lips unpuckered, and his face fell. In two seconds he had gone from boyish excitement to glum resignation. He nodded. “I did hope…” he rasped. “But I understand. Thank you anyway.”

He looked so forlorn! And now I felt terrible. I shouldn’t have, of course – it was not my fault that he had got his hopes up. But I felt sorry for him, nonetheless, and this feeling increased as I felt the lump pressing against my pussy begin to soften.

“Hehe,” I heard Freddie chuckle. “She’s probably put off by your mole, Wally.”

“Or ‘is bad breath!” cackled Freddie.

Wally half-smiled, attempting to take the insults in good spirit, but I could see his feelings were hurt. Annoyed at GG and Freddie, and slightly ashamed of myself for my visceral reaction to the hairy mole, which he could not of course help, on a sudden impulse I leaned forward and pressed my lips against Wally’s. His eyes widened in surprise, and I felt a small measure of satisfaction as the mocking laughter behind me fell silent.

But then I felt Wally’s left hand beneath my bottom, grasping my right buttock and giving it a squeeze. With my lips still pressed to his, I gasped, and as my mouth opened, I was horrified to feel Wally’s tongue pushing into my mouth. I attempted to recoil, but his right hand was between my shoulder blades, his arm pulling my torso against his. The lump in his trousers had hardened again, his hand was kneading the flesh of my right buttock, his tongue was writhing in my mouth, and my mind was buzzing with alarm and confusion and disgust. He tasted foul – like rotting vegetables.

This was not my first kiss, of course – far from it. But it was, by a long way, both the grossest-tasting and the sloppiest; Wally was drooling like crazy, his horrid saliva running off his tongue and filling my mouth, and threatening to choke me unless I swallowed it – which I had to do, a couple of times. Then, at long last, he ran out of air and pulled his face away from mine, panting.

“Oh wow!” he said, beaming all over his elderly ugly face. “That was wonderful! Thank you, Robyn, thank you so much!” There were tears in his eyes.

I was feeling a mixture of indignation and embarrassment. “You didn’t really give me a choice there!” I protested.

He looked suddenly abashed. “If I came on a little strong,” he said in his thin, breathless voice, “I most sincerely apologise. Perhaps I got carried away. It’s been so very long, you see…”

I pouted, still feeling disgruntled, but nevertheless sympathetic to his awful loneliness. “It’s okay,” I said reluctantly, swallowing to try to get rid of the bad taste in my mouth. “And you’re welcome.” Then I climbed off his lap, remembering just in time to grab at my bra straps as they were about to slip off my shoulders.

“Leave it undone this time,” said GG. “I think it’s Lionel’s turn next.”

“Oh … yes,” said another old man, rubbing his crotch in anticipation. He was not looking directly at me, and his pale, milky eyes made me think that perhaps he might be blind. He certainly looked very old – older even than Freddie, with just a few wisps of white hair clustered behind his ears, a bald dome decorated with reddish-purple blotches, and a nose so large and lumpy that even the lumps had lumps.

“I … I think I’ve had enough practice giving lap dances,” I said, with a nervous laugh.

“You’ve barely started!” GG retorted. “Come on – this is a good song to dance to. Let’s see what you can do with a nice bouncy number.”

The song currently playing was indeed bouncier than the previous couple had been … and in fact it was one I knew quite well: “Good Vibrations”, by the Beach Boys. With a sigh, I walked over to Lionel’s chair – it was another armchair – and I began to dance in front of him. My bra cups immediately began to flap away from my breasts, and I clutched at them, blushing in mortification and hoping nobody had seen my nipples.

GG chortled and snorted with mirth. “Don’t you worry about that bra, Robyn!” he advised me. “It’ll be coming off soon anyway!”

With my stomach knotted with anxiety, I turned my back on Lionel, my hands pressed to my chest as I bent over and gyrated my bottom in time to the music. Though hardly a good twerking number, it was a good deal better than the dreary carnival song. I realised my bra straps had fallen down my arms and were now dangling around my elbows; only my hands were keeping the garment on me.

I felt hands on my hips, gripping me and pulling me backward. I took a step back, to maintain my balance, but my heel hit Lionel’s shoe, and I tripped and sat down harder than I would have preferred. “Oh gosh!” I said in alarm, turning to look at Lionel over my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll survive!” the old man wheezed, though he was grimacing. “It’s worth it.” He put his left hand around in front of me and squeezed my inner thigh, just in front of my panties. With his other hand he was caressing my belly.

I ground my bottom against him, feeling the hard lump of his erection through his trousers and my panties. It was a sensation I was starting to get quite familiar with – not that I wanted to! I made the mistake of lifting myself off his lap a little, to lessen the pressure of the unseemly contact between us … and he took the opportunity to pull me more firmly against his torso.

The DJ’s voice broke in over the fading song, and I stopped my undulations and tried to get up. But Lionel was having none of it. “You’ve not turned round yet!” he objected. “You can’t stop halfway through.”

“It’s the end of the song…” I countered plaintively, while guessing that this argument would not be persuasive.

“But you didn’t start at the beginning,” he responded.

I hesitated, then sighed. “All right,” I said. This was going to be my last lap dance, though, I told myself firmly.

The next song, which the DJ helpfully announced in full, was “Stop! In the Name of Love”, by The Supremes. It was reasonably danceable, and as I squatted astride Lionel and lowered my panties on to his trouser-covered erection, my shoulders were already shimmying to the beat. Then I began to grind my pussy against his lump, and he sighed with pleasure. “Ohhh my…” he murmured, looking down at my hands, which were still holding my bra cups against my breasts. Apparently he was not blind after all – at least not fully. “Now…” he said, “how about a kiss…?”

I shivered uneasily. “I … I don’t think so, Mr … Lionel,” I said. “That was just a one-time thing.”

“That’s hardly fair,” he said reproachfully. “Freddie gets a kiss but I don’t? I’m a better kisser than he is, you know. And yes, I know he’s better-looking than I am … but that’s not my fault, is it?”

“Go on, Robyn – give him a kiss!” GG urged me. “Just pretend he’s Ethan! It’ll be good practice!”

I found myself wavering. Ordinarily I’d have refused a request like this point blank, but I did not seem to be thinking very clearly. This was probably because – against all odds and reason – I was actually getting quite horny. The action of rubbing my pussy on grown men’s cocks through their trousers – even gross old men like these – was having an unfortunate but significant effect on me. I was feeling flushed, light-headed … and even the mention of Ethan was setting my imagination afire with visions of making out with him, giving him a lap dance, feeling his hands on my breasts…

“O…okay…” I said reluctantly. “I suppose it’s only fair.” Steeling myself and closing my eyes, I leaned forward and met Lionel’s lips with my own. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, writhing it around enthusiastically, and I hesitantly moved my own tongue in response. His saliva tasted unpleasant, but it was not as bad as Wally’s. I heard cheers erupt behind me.

Lionel broke off the kiss, grinning mischievously as I leaned back a little. Looking down, he took hold of the dangling traps of my bra. “Why don’t you take your hands out of these,” he suggested, pulling the straps toward each other until they were around my wrists, “and put them around me?”

“I don’t want to let go of my bra,” I said, embarrassed.

“It’ll stay in place,” he assured me, “when we’re pressed together.” And he gently took hold of my left wrist, attempting to tug it away from my breast. But I resisted.

“How’s her kissing, Lionel?” GG inquired.

“Very sweet – but a little inexperienced,” Lionel reported. “Half-hearted.”

“I’d be more whole-hearted if you were someone I wanted to kiss!” I said indignantly.

Lionel looked crestfallen. “Well … that makes sense,” he conceded.

“Practice won’t help you if you don’t throw yourself into it,” GG advised me. “Lionel may be an ugly old man, but you need to pretend he’s the love of your life. Show him what you can really do. Only then will his feedback be at all useful to you.”

And now my pride kicked in. While we were together, Kevin had often told me that I was a good kisser, and that my technique was much better than that of his first two girlfriends. I took some pride in this, and it had stung more than I was prepared to admit, to hear Lionel describe my kissing in less than glowing terms.

“All right Lionel,” I said determinedly, “I’ll show you how I can really kiss.” And I slipped my hands out of my bra straps, put them around his neck, and pressed my lips to his. I then employed every trick in my repertoire, gently pinching his lower lip between my upper lip and tongue, tracing his upper lip with my tongue, running my tongue over the top of his, sucking on his lower lip, sucking on his tongue, and then, when I judged I had teased him enough, plunging my tongue into his mouth and swirling it around his.

After a good minute of this, I pulled back, and smirked with satisfaction at his shell-shocked expression. “Well?” I asked him.

“You’re very good!” he gasped. “Bernie, when she really goes for it … she’s amazing!”

I smiled, feeling flattered. “Thank you,” I said.

“I feel I like I didn’t pull my weight, though,” he continued. “You caught me off guard! Can we do that again? But this time I’ll be more of a match for you.”

“Um, I don’t…” I began.

“Rematch!” said GG excitedly. “Go on, Robyn – give him another chance.”

Another chance at what? “All right,” I said, buoyed up my success and feeling generous, “one last kiss.”

This time, Lionel gave as good as he got, being both less penetrative and less vigorous than the first time he had stuck his tongue in my mouth. His moves and energy complemented mine, and our tongues danced together as if we were a finely-tuned partnership. But then I felt my bra being pulled down, away from my breasts, and I drew back, bringing my arms down quickly in an attempt to keep my breasts covered. “Hey!” I protested to Lionel.

But he was not the culprit. “Haha!” cackled GG, hobbling away with my bra clutched in his hand.

I awkwardly climbed off Lionel, my hands clasped firmly to my naked breasts. “GG!” I exclaimed.

“I told you you’d be going topless!” he said, grinning and waving my bra around. “Now’s as good a time as any. I’m just going to put this with your other clothes.” He turned and shuffled towards the doorway.

I trotted after him desperately, glancing around at the old men and women staring at me. “GG!” I hissed. “You can’t expect me to stick around here in just my panties!”

“Why not?” he inquired. “You’ve been managing perfectly well in your underwear so far. This is no different, while you’re covering yourself like that. But you should relax! Free those lovely tits of yours. Let your chest breathe. And then give poor old Willie Sheridan a lap dance; it’s his turn next.”

“Oh no!” I said quickly. “No more lap dances!”

“Robyn, you’ve done three so far and they’ve all gone beautifully!” said GG. “One more won’t kill you – in fact it’ll help you. More practice is always good. Besides, Willie deserves it more than any of us. You’ll not find a kinder man in this room – nor one who’s suffered more in his life, I suspect.”

This tugged at my heartstrings. “Which one is he?” I asked, curious despite my misgivings.

GG pointed to a cheerful-looking gentleman who looked a little younger than GG – perhaps not even eighty years old. He had a relatively full head of greyish-white hair, and handsome features for a man of his age … but his left leg was missing below the knee. “Willie lost not only his wife, but also both of his children, in the car crash that took half his leg,” said GG. “Never remarried. He was a property solicitor, but he switched jobs and spent the rest of his working life helping orphaned and abandoned children get adopted or find good foster homes. He’d still be doing that now, I suspect, if his mind hadn’t…. He has a bit of dementia, the poor chap. But he’ll certainly appreciate a pretty young girl giving him a lap dance! I saw him eyeing you wistfully while you were on Lionel’s lap.”

I sighed. I had been touched by Willie’s story. “All right,” I said grudgingly. “One more lap dance! But then that’s it – no more dancing, and I’ll want all my clothes back!”

“Oh no,” said GG, shaking his head. “No clothes until just before it’s time for you to leave. You’re still far too embarrassed and uncomfortable; you need to spend more time getting used to being around strangers in just your panties. But fine – this can be your last lap dance. Now, I’ll be back shortly; you go and give Willie a treat he so richly deserves.”

“All right,” I said grumpily, not thrilled to hear that I would be staying almost naked for quite a while yet. It was now only half past three, and Mum and Dad would not be picking me up until half past five. That meant almost two more hours of wearing only my panties! I whimpered unhappily.

Then I approached Willie, who was sitting on a comfortably-upholstered chair with wide-set wooden armrests. “Hi,” I said shyly. “Mr … Sheridan?”

“Oh hello!” he said, smiling up at me. “Please call me Willie.”

“Okay, Willie,” I said, relaxing a little. His manner was very disarming. “Would you … like, um, a … a lap dance…?”

“Goodness!” said Willie, seeming taken aback at the thought. “Well, I … are you happy to do that? Is anyone … forcing you?”

“No…” I admitted, though I did feel as if I had not been given much of a choice. “Nobody’s forcing me. GG … Mr Higson … said you were a kind man. I … it would be my pleasure to give you … um … a lap dance … if you would like one.”

“I would be delighted,” said Willie. “Now where did I put my wallet…” He began looking around, and patting his pockets.

“Oh … you don’t need to pay!” I said hastily. “I’m not a … a call girl or anything like that. I’m Mr Higson’s great-granddaughter.”

“Oh!” said Willie, looking momentarily confused. Then he brightened. “Oh, I remember this song!”

I was not at all sure that he had taken in what I had said. But the song that had just begun was, in fact, quite suitable for dancing: “These Boots Are Made For Walking”, which was another song I had heard before. Without saying another word, and with my hands still firmly clasped to my breasts, I began to dance in front of Willie. His eyes crinkled into a happy smile, and he softly clapped his hands in time to the music.

Getting into the rhythm of the song, I turned my back on him, and began to twerk. I realised everyone in the room was watching me, except for two women and one man who were all fast asleep. My audience included three women; I was surprised none of them had objected to my state of undress already, but although one of them wore an expression of tight-lipped disapproval, she did not seem as if she was going to stop me. Of the other two, one was swaying her shoulders to the music, and smiling at me encouragingly – she looked as if she was enjoying the show. The other, Maggie, simply watched me with a cheerful, slightly vacant smile.

I backed up and sat down carefully on Willie’s lap, quickly finding the lump in his trousers with my bottom. I started to grind against it, and was rewarded with a sigh of pleasure from behind me. After about twenty seconds, I stood up and turned around, preparing to climb on to his lap while facing him.

But now I had a problem. Previously I had used my hands for this, and I was not sure that I could do it hands-free without risking injury. Perhaps, though, I could do it one-handed. I carefully slid my right hand across my chest to my left breast, while keeping my right breast concealed behind my forearm. Then my left arm was free, and I could grasp the chair’s wooden armrest. I stepped up on to the chair with my right foot, slipping it between Willie’s left hip and the armrest, and planting it on the upholstered seat.

A new problem now arose. The seat cushion was thick, and the embroidered fabric covering it curved downward towards the edges, where it wrapped around the wood and was presumably attached by staples underneath. My foot was therefore perched on the edge of a yielding horizontal surface that quickly turned into an increasingly steep slope. If I put any weight on it, I was in danger of slipping off.

The less perilous alternative was obvious. I stuck my foot through the gap between the armrest and the seat, and slid my whole leg through, until my foot came to rest on the floor. Then I lifted my left leg, and stuck it through the gap beneath the other armrest. With both feet firmly on the floor and my thighs straddling not only Willie’s lap but the entire chair, I settled my panty-clad pussy down on to his trouser-clad erection, and began to undulate my hips, rubbing myself on his cock in a circular motion. It felt pretty good, and this time I allowed myself to enjoy it.

“Ohhh!” Willie gasped, his eyes rolling upwards in their sockets. “You’re an angel…”

I was getting somewhat aroused as I rubbed my clit firmly and rhythmically against his erect cock, just a few millimetres of fabric separating them. My cheeks flushed, in a fit of altruism I leaned forward and whispered, “Would you like a kiss?”

It was a rash offer, but I reasoned that I had already kissed a couple of other men here anyway. One more – especially this nice man – would not hurt. Yet I was a little taken aback when Willie abruptly took me in his arms and planted his lips on mine, kissing me with a passion I would not have anticipated in a man of his advanced years. I nevertheless responded, and our tongues played around each other for a while. With our chests pressed together, I decided my breasts were safe from exposure for the moment, and I put my arms around Willie’s neck.

And it was in this position that Nurse Sheila found us, about half a minute later, when she walked into the common room with an iPad in her hand. “Well well well!” she said, sternly, stopping next to me and Willie.

Panicking, I withdrew my arms and hastily covered my breasts again, then tried to get up. But I was not in a position to extract myself in a hurry, and the armrests brought my upward motion to an abrupt halt. My thighs painfully bruised, I sat back down, wincing.

“No need to get up on my account,” said Nurse Sheila with an amused smirk. “I’m sure you’re making Mr Sheridan very happy there.”

“She really is!” said Willie, a joyous expression on his face. “She’s an angel!”

“I see you lost your bra,” Sheila remarked. “How long before the panties come off too?”

“They won’t!” I said defensively. “I didn’t plan on taking my bra off!”

“So where is it?” Sheila inquired with a polite smile.

My cheeks burned. “Um … GG took it away, to put it with my other clothes.”

“GG…?”

“Mr Higson,” I explained. “GG stands for great-grandad.”

“I see,” said Sheila, a smile playing about her lips. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it; it looked like you were both having fun.”

“I should really stop…” I said, feeling very embarrassed and no longer in the mood.

“No no!” said Sheila, holding up her hands. “I don’t want to have Willie here complaining to me later that you short-changed him because of my interruption. By all means go back to what you were doing.”

I reluctantly turned back to Willie, who smiled at me in a kindly manner. “It’s all right,” he said. “You’ve done more than enough – more than I could have hoped for.”

I glanced up at Sheila, who folded her arms. “I don’t mind, Mr Sheridan,” I said, after a nervous swallow. “Let’s continue that kiss a little longer.”

We kissed, and I gave it my best, sucking on Willie’s lips and tongue, and exchanging more and more saliva as I resumed grinding my pussy against the hard lump of his erection. Letting go of my breasts, I put my arms around his neck again, holding his body against mine. Sheila chuckled. “Get a hold of those firm young boobs, Mr Sheridan,” she said. “You’ll never again get an opportunity like this, I’m sure.”

My eyes widened. I hoped Willie would not follow Sheila’s instruction … but this hope was quickly dashed, as I felt the old man’s hands slide up between us, and take hold of my breasts. His gnarly old fingers closed around them, and squeezed them gently.

Sheila laughed. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said. “I’ve seen nothing!” Turning on her heel, she walked away.

I pulled back from Willie, and quickly brought my hands down to push his away and cover my breasts in the process. “Willie!” I said reproachfully.

“I’m sorry!” he said, suddenly looking guilty. “I … I thought it would be all right…”

“It wasn’t!” I snapped. But he looked so sad and ashamed that I almost immediately forgave him. “Never mind,” I said, in a softer tone. “It’s okay. I hope you enjoyed the kiss, anyway.”

He brightened. “I did!” he said. “Thank you so much…” Then his face fell. “I’m so sorry – I forgot your name. My memory these days…”

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “My name’s Robyn.” I tried again to get up, but quickly found that getting out of this chair was going to be way harder than getting into it. “Ugh – I think I’ll need both hands for this…”

“I won’t look,” he promised, and he dutifully closed his eyes tightly.

“Thank you,” I said, appreciating his gentlemanliness … even though I would much rather he had looked but not touched, than the other way around. The memory of the sensation of his fingers on my breasts was seared into my mind.

Even with both hands gripping the armrests of the chair, it was not easy for me to extract my legs from the gaps beneath those same armrests. By dint of considerable effort and no small amount of contortionism, however, I was finally able to pull out first one leg, then the other. By the time I had both feet back on the floor, my hands were firmly placed on my breasts once more.

GG was just now entering the room again. He smiled at me. “How did it go?” he asked.

“It was wonderful!” Willie enthused. “She’s an angel.”

GG grinned. “Isn’t she?” he said. “Well, now she’s a topless angel, who needs to get used to people looking at her tits. Hands down, Robyn – by your sides.”

“What?” I said, aghast.

“Robyn,” said GG, a little sternly, as if reminding me of a lesson I really ought to have learned by now. “There’s no point in being topless if your hands are just going to perform the same job as your bra. The idea is to get you comfortable being dressed this way around other people – which clearly you are not, yet. Also … how are you going to get anything done, if your hands are occupied like that?”

“Well … I know,” I admitted wretchedly, “but I thought … I don’t know … I thought…”

“You thought you could endure being topless, as long as you kept your breasts covered?” GG suggested.

I was not quite sure what I had thought, but this sounded reasonable. “Something like that,” I admitted.

“Well I’ve got news for you,” said GG. “You can also endure having your naked tits exposed for everyone to see. And I’ll prove it to you.”

I whimpered anxiously. “I don’t know, I don’t think I want to…”

“But if you’re really struggling with this,” GG went on, “I suppose we could do it an easier way.”

I latched on to this lifeline. “What easier way?” I asked.

He smiled, and held up his tablet. “A photo shoot!” he said. “Outside. A nice, artistic photo collection, of a pretty young girl surrounded by nature. You’ve shown you have an aptitude for modelling; I think you’ll enjoy this. We’ll find a nice quiet spot, and gradually ease you into the idea of being topless in a public place. It’s a nice day out there – not sunny, I’m afraid, but at least it’s fairly warm, and not raining. What do you think?”

I looked out of the windows surrounding three sides of this room. The garden looked quite pretty, and there were fewer people out there than in here. The idea of another photo session made me uneasy, but if it meant my toplessness would have a smaller audience…. “All right,” I said reluctantly, “let’s go outside.” Perhaps, I thought to myself, I might be able to retrieve my clothes while I was out there.

GG led me slowly out of the room, and to a door which opened at the touch of a button. I followed anxiously, my arms folded across my chest, hands clasped to my breasts. Outside, a wall to the left with a locked gate dashed my hopes of retrieving my clothes from here. GG gestured to it. “They don’t want us escaping,” he said wryly.

“Aren’t my clothes somewhere beyond that gate though?” I inquired. “How will you get them back?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he assured me. “There’s another door – I’ll be able to fetch them in at a moment’s notice.”

I was still worried, but I had no choice except to take his word for it. Turning right, he led me down a paved path into the back garden, a very large area of grass, shrubs, flower beds, and, mostly further back, a handful of trees. “Come on,” he said, “we’ll find a secluded spot.”

The sky was overcast, and the air was cooler than I would have liked, given my state of undress. But I followed GG, smiling apologetically to the elderly couple sitting at a wooden picnic table near the common room windows. They stared at me in astonishment as I passed, but said nothing until they thought I was out of earshot, at which point they began discussing me in loud whispers.

Round the back of a rhododendron bush, GG stopped and turned to face me. “Here seems like a good place,” he said. “Now pose, and give me a smile.”

He had not asked me to uncover my breasts, and I was not about to volunteer to do so. So I merely adopted a strong but hopefully feminine pose with my feet apart and my expression (again, hopefully) somewhat sultry.

GG stepped back, raised his tablet, and grinned. “Nice pose!” he said. “Very good. Knew you’d be a natural at this. Now how about one hand behind your head, and the other arm across your chest?”

I was pleasantly surprised, and readily adopted the suggested pose. GG took a couple more photos. Then he said, “Turn your back on me, looking back at me over your shoulder.”

I did so, and tried a few expressions, while he took more photos.

“Hands on hips?” he said.

I hesitated, but nodded. My breasts would be uncovered, but he would not see them. I posed; he took more photos. Then…

“Now turn to the side,” he said. “Hands behind your back, your right hand holding your left wrist.”

“You’ll see my breasts,” I said awkwardly.

“Just one,” he replied, “and only from the side. I’m doing my best to ease you into this gently, Robyn.”

I had to give him that; he really was. He was being very considerate … if the concept of me showing him both of my breasts in all their glory at some point was a given. Earlier I might have rebelled against that notion; now, I seemed to have resigned myself to it. In which case, I had to give him credit for going easy on me.

“Um … okay,” I said, and I bit my lip as I turned sideways, and put my hands behind my back.

“Beautiful!” he said, taking a photo. “Now there’s a lovely breast if ever I saw one. Perfect compromise between size and shapeliness. Turn towards me a little? And look into the distance, somewhere up above my head.”

I followed his instructions, even though I knew I was now revealing both of my breasts to him and his tablet camera. His compliments had not taken away my sense of embarrassment, but they had flattered my ego and reduced my fear and anxiety considerably.

“Gorgeous!” he said. “I know you have no control over the natural size and shape of your breasts, Robyn, but I’d like to commend you anyway. They’re truly exquisite.”

“Thank you,” I said in a small voice.

I knew, deep down, that it was weird and wrong for me to me standing in front of my great-grandfather in just my panties, posing for him with my breasts fully exposed, but I rationalised it by telling myself this was just something models and their photographers did. It helped enormously that he was being so effusive in his compliments; in an era of photoshopped instagram celebrities, like most teenage girls I constantly worried that my body did not measure up.

GG talked me through several more poses, and I gradually began to relax. My initial mortification about being topless slowly ebbed away, and it suddenly occurred to me that I was feeling almost comfortable in this situation.

“I’d like to try something more dynamic,” he said. “Like an action pose. Hmm. Any ideas…?”

“What about a Karate Kid pose?” I suggested tentatively.

“I’ve never seen it,” he said. “Show me?”

I raised my arms, and one leg, and stood up on tiptoe.

“Oh!” he said, his eyes widening. “Yes! That’s perfect!”

I wobbled, overbalanced, and had to put my other foot down. I giggled. “It’s hard to maintain for long,” I said. “I’ll try again.” I did so, and this time held it long enough for GG to take a couple of photos.

“Oh, that’s brilliant!” he said. “Take a look.”

He showed me his tablet, and I nodded. “It’s not easy for me to be objective about myself in photos,” I confessed, “but that looks pretty good, I suppose.”

“Trust me,” said GG. “As a man with an eye for beautiful women. You’re a beauty, and you look fantastic in this photo. If it doesn’t quite look like it belongs in the pages of a magazine, that’s only because of my tablet’s inferior camera, and also my own limited skills as a photographer. A professional, with a decent camera, would be thrilled to have you as his model.”

I could not help feeling a bit of pride at his words. The fact that I was outdoors and in his company in nothing but my panties no longer seemed weird or scary. The urge to put my hands over my breasts had evaporated. I was standing there confidently, my hands on my hips, discussing photos and modelling with my great-grandfather as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Until the moment I heard another male voice behind me, and reality came crashing back in as I gasped and turned, my hands quickly grabbing my breasts.

“Ah, there you are!” said Freddie, slowly inching his way around the rhododendron with the help of his cane. “I just came out to make sure you weren’t taking advantage of the girl, Bernie.”

GG chuckled. “A likely story!” he said. “I think you were just missing the view. Well, now you’re here, would you like to be in a couple of the photos? We’ve done nothing but solo shots so far, of course – it’ll be good to add some variety.”

“Certainly!” said Freddie, drooling a little as he looked at my hands.

“Uncover your breasts, Robyn,” said GG. “Let’s not take a step backwards. You’ve been doing so well!”

I reluctantly lowered my hands to my sides.

“Ohhhh,” murmured Freddie, licking his lips. “Now there’s a sight for sore eyes. Heh heh heh…”

I stiffened uncomfortably.

GG grinned. “Get used to it, Robyn,” he said. “Your tits are things of beauty, and if they’re out in the open, men are going to ogle them.”

“Never liked the word ‘tits’,” said Freddie.

“Oh?” said GG in surprise. “What do you prefer?”

“Knockers!” Freddie replied.

I grimaced, and GG laughed. “I don’t think Robyn likes that one much,” he said. “What do you prefer, sweetheart?”

I would have preferred him not to call me ‘sweetheart’ … but one battle at a time. “Breasts,” I said, my cheeks feeling quite hot. “Or boobs, I suppose.”

“Boobs it is, then,” said GG. “Okay, perhaps the two of you can stand side by side, arms around each other’s waists? Freddie, you’d better be on Robyn’s right, so you can still use your cane for support.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Freddie. “I can swap hands. Either side works.”

But I had already stepped around to his left side, and put my arm around him. Feeling awkward and uncomfortable again, I smiled tightly for GG’s camera, while Freddie’s hand slid along the small of my back and curled around my waist. He was looking down at my breasts when GG snapped his photo, which annoyed me … but GG did not seem to think the photo was wasted. “Good!” he said.

“I don’t think Freddie was looking at the camera,” I remarked peevishly.

“It worked for the shot,” said GG. “These pictures aren’t for the family album. You’re the focus; you’re the star. Freddie looking at you instead of the camera just reinforces that.”

“Oh,” I said, understanding his viewpoint. “Okay.”

I felt a light wet touch on my left shoulder, then another on my right breast. “Um, I think it’s starting to rain…”

“Uh-oh!” said GG. “We’d best get back inside. And I need to retrieve your clothes before they get wet!”

“Yes please!” I said fervently.

“I’ll go on ahead,” said GG, shuffling away around the rhododendron. “You accompany Freddie – make sure he doesn’t fall! And when you get inside, don’t cover your tits! Boobs, sorry. I’ll see you shortly.”

“Heh heh,” said Freddie, laboriously turning around and setting off back towards the entrance. “What a treat the old gents are about to get! And the ladies, too – or one of them, at least.”

I was not quite sure what he meant by this, and did not like to ask. Feeling increasingly anxious, I walked slowly alongside Freddie as he hobbled across the grass to the gravel path, and then back to the building. Passing the common room windows, I did not dare look inside. My arms crept protectively up toward my chest, but Freddie tutted.

“Remember what Bernie said!” he said. “No covering up!” Then he cackled.

As I stepped inside, following Freddie, my brain was screaming at me to cover my breasts with my hands. My thoughts were racing. I wanted to cover up; why was I not doing so? Because GG had told me not to. Why was I letting him tell me what to do? Because … because…

Because I was nervous about what might happen if I didn’t. That was what it came down to, I realised. I had been brought up to respect authority, and to obey the instructions of my elders … and in the absence of my parents, the strong personality of GG was filling the role of authority figure. And he had my clothes, which made me feel extra powerless and under his thumb.

I was not too far gone to consider disobeying him, however, and as we approached the common room, I almost gave in. But as I stopped, hesitating, Freddie tried to encourage me.

“Come on,” he said cheerfully. “You’ve nothing to fear.”

“I … I don’t think I can do this!” I whispered, my heart pounding.

“Why not?” Freddie inquired. “Not brave enough? Or not shameless enough?”

“Both,” I replied.

“You didn’t think before you answered,” said Freddie. “Think about it now. Which is it, really?”

I thought about it. “I think it’s mainly a bravery thing,” I admitted. “I mean, I’m not a prude. Mum and Dad are super religious, but I’m not … but that doesn’t mean I’m the sort of girl who likes flashing her body around. It’s not that I think it’s morally wrong, so much as just … vulgar, I suppose. But that feeling isn’t as powerful as the one that’s making me panic about how people will react, and how they’ll treat me, if they see me showing my boobs.”

Freddie nodded. “Very interesting,” he said. “Well, I can assure you that nobody will treat you badly. Nobody will mock or belittle you … and I’ll thump them if they do!” He chuckled.

I smiled. The thought of this doddering ninety-year-old man thumping anybody, without doing greater injury to himself in the process, was rather comical. “Thank you,” I said politely.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured me. “The problem is that you’re overthinking it. If you debate all the whys and wherefores, you’ll work yourself up into a state. Best to just clear your mind, hold your head up, and walk in there proudly. After all, you have plenty to be proud of! And when people see your confidence, you’ll earn their respect, no matter what you’re wearing.”

This seemed like good advice. “I’ll try it,” I said. Then, taking a deep breath, I walked into the common room with my hands by my sides, my fists clenched.

All conversation in the room died. The radio was still on, and now playing a Beatles song (the one that goes “I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in…”). I walked determinedly into the middle of the room, then stopped uncertainly. GG was not here, and I’d left Freddie behind … where was I supposed to go?

I chose Willie, as the man I decided I liked the most. Waking over to his chair, I said shyly, “Hi Mr Sheridan.”

He looked up at me with a kind smile. “Hello dear,” he said. “Have you lost your clothes…?”

I smiled ruefully. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it? GG … Mr Higson … is fetching them now, because it started raining outside.”

“Oh good,” he said. “So what brings you here today?”

It was a strange question, and coupled with his polite but bemused expression, it suddenly made me realise he did not recognise me. “I … um … I was here with you a few minutes ago. Do you not remember?”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” he replied, looking abashed. “My memory isn’t what it was.”

This was disappointing. “Sorry to bother you,” I said, before trotting over to see Wally. I perched on the wide arm of his chair. “Hi Wally.”

“Lovely to see you again, Robyn!” said Wally, smiling happily. “I see you lost your bra: that’s exciting! You have a most attractive chest.”

I chuckled. “GG wants me to get used to being topless around other people,” I explained. “You know – so I’ll be more confident doing it in front of Ethan.”

“That’s the boy you like?” Wally asked.

I nodded. “He’s … he’s wonderful,” I sighed. “Out of my league. But GG thinks I have a chance…”

“Of course you have a chance!” said Wally. “You’re young and beautiful, you have a sweet personality, and you…” He grinned at my breasts. “You have a truly delightful body. He’d be a fool to turn you down.”

“Thank you, Wally,” I said, smiling. “But you haven’t seen the girls he normally hangs out with…”

“I don’t need to,” said Wally. “I’ve seen a lot of teenage girls in my time, and you’re among the nicest, prettiest and sexiest of them all.”

It was hard not to consider the source of this opinion, but I appreciated the thought. “Thank you,” I said again. “You’re very kind.”

I chatted with Wally for a couple more minutes, until GG entered the room and made his unhurried way over to us. “Good girl,” he said, grinning at my bare breasts. “I knew you could do it.”

“Where are my clothes?” I asked him. “Did you bring them inside? Are they in your room?”

“They’re safe!” he replied. “Not in my room, no … but indoors, and safe. Don’t worry – you’ll get them back before your parents arrive to pick you up.”

My shoulders slumped. I had hoped he would let me get dressed. But no. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” I asked glumly.

“Just get used to being topless in here,” said GG airily. “Just mingle, chat, socialise…”

“Do you play chess, Robyn?” Wally inquired.

“I can,” I admitted warily. “Not all that well though.”

Wally gestured to a folded-up card table standing by the wall. “Could you fetch that table over here?” he asked me.

Feeling very naked, I hurried over and picked up the table; it was lighter than it looked, fortunately. Carrying it back to Wally, I set it down on its side, pulled out the legs, and then stood it up.

“Thank you!” said Wally. “The chess set is over there.” He pointed.

I groaned internally, then crossed the entire room, keeping my head down but with my breasts still fully exposed. I collected the chess set – a large square box about two inches thick – and carried it back to the table. GG, meanwhile, was manoeuvring an armless wooden chair into place across the table from Wally.

I sat down, and began setting up the board. “You can be white,” said Wally.

And so we played. My concern that I was about to play a former grand master proved unfounded, to my relief: Wally’s tactical ability was not significantly better than mine, and moreover he was prone to making absent-minded blunders, which I was quick to capitalise upon. Before long I had him on the defensive, and eventually I whittled him down to the point where I could checkmate him with my Queen and a rook.

“Well done!” he said, knocking over his king. “Very well played.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling, as our audience applauded. In addition to GG, we had attracted several more spectators, some of whom had dragged their chairs over. Most were men, but there was one woman, whose name, I gathered, was Catty.

“I didn’t want to interrupt the game,” she said, “but I’m frightfully curious as to why you’re wearing so little … is it for a bet…?”

“No,” I said, reddening in embarrassment. “It’s more like … therapy, I suppose? My great-grandad is helping me get more comfortable in my skin. I’m sorry – I certainly don’t want to offend people.”

The old lady blew a raspberry. “Nobody’s offended by a pretty girl with her top off,” she said. “It’s a bit of excitement, innit?”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” I said in relief.

In truth, as GG had predicted, I was becoming fairly comfortable being topless. The men clearly all loved it; the women mostly seemed to find it entertaining or amusing, or were indifferent … perhaps because they were not quite ‘all there’. On my way to the bathroom, one old biddy caught me by the wrist, her watery eyes shining. “I was at Woodstock, you know!” she said. “I had sex with a black man. Lovely, he was. Maurice Lincoln. He played the saxophone like an angel.”

“Um, good for you,” I replied uncertainly. I had no idea what Woodstock was.

After three more chess games, I was almost totally relaxed, and the common room was livelier than it probably had been in a long time. The only hiccup occurred when another nurse, Debbie, came in and began to berate me loudly.

“Who are you, and what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded fiercely.

I quailed and hurriedly covered my breasts, but the men around me immediately and volubly leapt to my defence. So impassioned were their arguments that Debbie retreated in shock, her eyes wide. Then she turned and headed for the door, perhaps to summon support … just as Sheila entered the room. The two of them had a lengthy conversation, of which I caught only snippets; the outcome however was that Sheila apparently persuaded Debbie to let it go, and not make a fuss. Debbie seemed far from happy about this, and studiously ignored me thereafter.

At five o’clock, I said to GG, “Mum and Dad’ll be here soon. Can you get my clothes please…?”

GG smiled. “We still have half an hour,” he said. “I’d like to take some more photos – of you and the lads – a memento of your afternoon here.”

I bit my lip. “Okay,” I said reluctantly. He had already taken a lot of photos of me in just my panties; a few more would not make much difference. “Just a short shoot though, please.”

“It’ll take as long as it takes,” said GG. “Don’t worry! I promise I’ll have you dressed by the time your parents arrive.”

I had no reason to doubt that he was a man of his word, so I nodded, reassured. “All right.”

First he had me sit sideways on Wally’s lap, my left arm around the ugly old man’s shoulders and my legs thrown over his chair’s left armrest. I tasted my head on his shoulder, and smiled for the camera. Despite his off-putting appearance, Wally was really quite a nice man, and I did not mind cuddling him like this.

GG took a couple of photos, then he grinned and said, “How about a kiss?”

I sighed, but turned my head and aimed my lips for Wally’s cheek. Unfortunately Wally turned his head towards me at the last moment, puckering his lips. I grimaced, but I had been full-on snogging him earlier; I could manage a peck on the lips.

Our lips met, and he sucked my lower lip between his. Then I felt his hand on my right breast, and I gasped … and his tongue pushed its way into my mouth. I uttered a muffled squeal, and pulled back, knocking his hand away from my breast. “Wally!” I exclaimed in exasperation. “You’re terrible! I give you an inch, and you take a mile!”

GG chuckled. “All good practice, though!” he remarked. “Boys your own age will do that too, and it’s good to know how to deal with it. For the record, you handled that perfectly.”

“Thank you,” I said, only slightly mollified.

“However,” GG continued, “since this is the last time Wally will get an opportunity like this, you can’t really blame him for pushing his luck. Who knows how much longer any of us in here have left? ‘Carpe diem’ is our only alternative to just giving up and fading away.”

“Or in Wally’s case, ‘Carpe boobem’!” said Freddie, laughing. “Sorry, I don’t know the Latin for breasts.”

“That’s all very well,” I said, disgruntled, yet a little proud of myself for knowing what ‘Carpe diem’ meant. “But I’m on the receiving end!”

“Was snogging Wally really so bad, last time?” Lionel inquired.

“Of course it was!” said Freddie, grinning. “I mean, look at him!”

“Eh … he’s just a blur from here,” said Lionel.

“Take my word for it,” said Freddie. “I’m surprised Robyn didn’t puke afterwards.”

“Hoi!” I said, annoyed on Wally’s behalf. “There’s no need to be mean. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Not as good as snogging me, though,” said Lionel smugly.

“I tried harder with you,” I retorted grumpily. “Wally caught me by surprise the first time.”

“Sounds like Wally deserves another go!” said GG. “Tell you what, Robyn: why don’t you turn around and straddle him like before … and show him what he missed last time?”

“You said I wouldn’t be doing any more lap dances!” I protested.

“This won’t be a lap dance,” said GG. “No dancing! Just a common or garden snog. Come on – you know you’ll get a bit of fun out of it too – ‘downstairs’.”

My cheeks burned. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said stubbornly.

“You know,” GG persisted, “rubbing your pussy on his…”

“Fine, I’ll do it!” I said quickly, keen to end the uncomfortable discussion. “Just because he didn’t get a good kiss last time. But then I want my clothes back!”

“Not yet,” said GG firmly. “You’ve a few other gents to take photos with. But after that, yes, you’ll get your clothes.”

The end was in sight, at least. I could not wait to cover myself up again! But for now, I would just continue to endure being dressed in nothing but my panties. It was quite amazing, and a testament to GG’s mentoring powers, that I had become so blasé about being almost naked … but I was still longing for my clothes.

I got up from Wally’s lap, turned around, and climbed on to the chair, as I had done before, with my feet tucked between his hips and the chair’s armrests. Settling my pussy down on the lump in his trousers (which I could feel hardening by the second), I put my arms around his neck. Then, steeling myself, I leaned forward, and kissed him.

Our mouths opened together; our tongues came out to play. But as I commenced kissing him with as much technique as I had brought to bear with Lionel, I felt his hands grasping my breasts, and I pulled back in annoyance. “Wally!” I protested.

“Oh, let him cop a feel,” said GG, laughing. “It’s all part of a standard snog. Don’t tell me your last boyfriend – Kevin, was it? – didn’t grope your boobs while the two of you were kissing?”

“Yes, but he was my boyfriend,” I countered. Then I realised that this argument applied to the snogging itself just as much as to breast-fondling, and I rolled my eyes. “Fine! What’s a little groping between friends?” I was being sarcastic, but I immediately worried that these old men would take this as more general permission. “Just while snogging, though!” I added hastily.

“Of course,” said GG, grinning in a way that made me nervous. He raised his tablet. “Go on then – back to the kissing!”

I reluctantly resumed kissing Wally, and as I sucked on his lips and tongue, he enthusiastically massaged my breasts, squeezing them and caressing them, and gently pinching my nipples between his fingers. It was a liberty and a level of intimacy that I did not feel I had sanctioned, even by giving him permission to grope my breasts, but I did not have the stomach for another argument on the subject. I would just endure it for now.

Without particularly intending to, I had begun grinding my pussy against Wally’s election, and the nice feelings this was giving me were a form of compensation for the embarrassment and indignity of exchanging saliva with a gropey old man in a care home in front of a dozen spectators. Soon, I was feeling horny enough even to enjoy Wally’s fondling of my breasts. My nipples were clearly aroused, and sensitive, and he was surprisingly good at working them.

I had no intention of letting anyone else know how much I was getting from this experience, so my mortification was enormous when I inadvertently detached my lips from Wally’s just long enough to let out an audible moan.

The men nearby all laughed, and one or two clapped. “Seems like you’re enjoying yourself there, my girl!” Freddie remarked.

Blushing hotly, and not meeting anyone in the eye, I climbed off Wally’s lap. “I think that’s enough,” I muttered.

“That was great!” said GG happily. “And all recorded on video, for posterity.”

“You’re not going to send that to anyone are you?” I asked anxiously.

“Of course not!” GG replied. “Nobody outside the few of us here, at least. Don’t worry, Robyn – we won’t let your dirty little secret get out.” He chuckled.

“My dirty…” I began indignantly, but then I shut my mouth. He was just teasing, I realised … but it was still a rotten thing to say. Partly because of how true it was: if the photos and videos he had taken today ever got out into the world, I would never again be able to show my face in public.

“You know,” said Freddie, “I got a lap dance earlier … but no snog! I’m beginning to regret going first. That looked like so much fun!”

“At least you got a lap dance!” said GG. “I missed out entirely.”

“You’re my great-grandfather!” I said, shuddering. “It would be really weird to give you a lap dance!”

GG shrugged. “Not much weirder than giving any other old man a lap dance,” he said. “I’m not a parent or sibling; we’re three generations removed! It would be like giving a lap dance to a second cousin.”

“Which would be weird!” I countered.

“You can marry your second cousin,” he pointed out. “There’s no law against it. The royal family would be in trouble if there were!”

“Whatever,” I said uneasily. “You agreed I was done with lap dances.”

“I did,” he conceded. “Ah well. But by all means give Freddie a nice snog. All of your other lap dance partners got one; it wouldn’t be fair to deprive Freddie.”

“I’ll go and sit down,” said Freddie, chuckling as he made his ponderous way toward a nearby chair. It was the same armless chair on which he had been sitting for his lap dance.

My stomach knotted. “All right,” I sighed. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Not too quickly!” said GG. “Give him the same treatment as Wally. Let him suck on that sweet teenage tongue of yours.”

I grimaced. “Gross, GG!” I said.

“But accurate, yes?” he responded, raising an eyebrow. “Robyn, part of this experience is destigmatising language the child in you is repulsed by. You’re old enough not to need euphemisms for things, and you’re old enough to talk matter-of-factly about your sexual endeavours.”

Sexual endeavours! What a way to talk about snogging old men as practice for my first encounter with Ethan! But … now that I thought about it, this too was accurate. I was making these men hard, and then rubbing my pussy on their erections. If that wasn’t a sexual endeavour, what was it?

The thought troubled me a lot. But I had already agreed to snog Freddie, so there was nothing for it but to climb on his lap, put my arms around his neck, and bring my lips up to his. His hands found my breasts immediately, but this time I did not complain. What would be the point? Instead, I began rubbing my pussy against his hardening cock, fortunately separated by multiple layers of material, and began caressing his tongue with mine. It was gross … this entire afternoon had been gross … but at least my loins were getting some pleasure.

If I had to be in this situation, I told myself, I might as well have as much fun with it as possible. My pussy felt so good as I massaged it sensuously with Freddie’s erection, my nipples were tingling … how was a bit rougher with his hands than Wally was, but right now I didn’t mind. I kissed him with passion, imagining he was Ethan, twirling my tongue around his as I humped his groin. I felt him let go of my left breast, reach around me, and slide his hand down inside the back of my panties … but while part of me was feeling outraged at this new liberty, I was too horny to stop him or even vocalise any objection.

I was getting close to an orgasm, and I broke off from the kiss so that I could breathe as heavily as I needed to. Arching my back, I let out a moan of pleasure, which I quickly stifled by withdrawing my hand from behind Freddie and slapping it over my mouth. My eyes were closed, so I did not notice Freddie bending his head down as he leaned me back a little. The next thing I knew, there was warmth and wetness on my left breast, and the unmistakable sensation of my nipple being sucked on.

I gasped and opened my eyes. “Freddie!” I exclaimed indignantly. The old man’s face was planted against my breast, and my nipple was in his mouth.

“Let him suck it!” GG encouraged me excitedly, as the other men laughed and cheered. “It’ll feel good!”

But I had been brought back to reality with a jolt. I pushed Freddie’s head away, and climbed off his lap. “No!” I said vehemently. “That was too much!”

“It’s no worse than him using his hands,” said GG. “The only reason you’re objecting is that you weren’t expecting it. He just went ahead and did it without warning or permission, which was a little sneaky of him.”

“I’ll say!” I agreed, glad to have some validation of my objection. “I think it IS worse, though.”

“How so?” GG inquired. “It’s gentler, surely. And probably feels nicer.”

“It’s just more … intimate,” I said uncomfortably.

“More intimate than a hot and steamy tongue kiss?” GG asked, amused. “Especially the way you were going at it with Freddie there. Once you get over the shock of it, I think you’ll see that him taking your nipple into his mouth wasn’t much of a step forward. It looked like you were about to climax from all your rubbing on his knob; was a bit of nipple-sucking really that outrageous by comparison?”

I put my face in my hands, embarrassed beyond words.

“Oh, don’t feel badly about that!” said GG hastily. “None of us would begrudge you an orgasm, Robyn. You’ve certainly earned it.”

“But it’s so inappropriate!” I wailed.

GG chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, Robyn. Your mum and dad aren’t here, nor is anyone who’s going to judge you. None of this has been ‘appropriate’. But instructive? Helpful? Absolutely. It’s all great experience for you; experience that could make the difference between Ethan letting you down gently after an awkward and mediocre first date, and Ethan enthusiastically agreeing to a second date. Forget ‘appropriate’ – just leave here with a newfound confidence in your beauty and sexiness and ability to attract Ethan in the first place, and blow his mind when you get him alone.”

I smiled hopefully. “That’s a good way to think about it,” I said. “Thank you. I needed that reminder of why I’m doing all this.”

GG nodded, then he handed his tablet to Freddie. “Freddie, would you mind taking over the filming? It’s my turn for a snog.”

“What?” I gasped, alarmed.

GG chuckled as he sat down in an empty armchair. “I told you, we’re not closely enough related for it to matter all that much,” he said. “And I missed out on a lap dance. It’s hard, you know, to watch all this going on and not get to join in! After all I’ve done for you today, I think I’ve earned at least a snog. Come on…” He patted his lap. “It won’t be any different from kissing Freddie, or Wally, or Lionel. We barely know each other, after all.”

I stared at him. The whole idea just felt wrong … but I found myself unable to put a cogent counterargument into words. Then I thought of something, and glanced over at the clock. “I don’t think we have time,” I said. “I need to get dressed.”

“You’ve got time,” said GG patiently. “And remember, only I know where your clothes are! If you want to motivate me to go and get them, I suggest you climb on my lap.” He chuckled.

My blood suddenly ran cold. He was pretty much blackmailing me now. The message was clear: give him his snog, or he would refuse to fetch my clothes – possibly until it was too late, and Mum and Dad arrived … at which point I would have to explain to them why I was so underdressed.

But GG must have noticed my expression. “I was joking!” he said. “No need to panic, Robyn! I promised you I’d have you dressed by the time your parents get here, and I’m a man of my word. Whether you give me a snog or not, I’ll not leave you in the lurch. All of this has been for your benefit! I wouldn’t do that to you. Yes, of course I’m looking forward to kissing your sweet lips … but the experience will be good for you, too, and that’s the most important thing.”

I felt very relieved! For a horrible moment it had seemed like he was planning to go back on his word if I did not do exactly what he wanted. But I had apparently misread his attempt at humour. Nevertheless, I did not want to take any chances by refusing him his kiss – not when I was so close to getting my clothes back and leaving this place.

I smiled, a little tightly, and climbed on to his lap. This chair was the same type as Willie’s, with broad wooden arms with gaps beneath. Bracing with my hands, I slid first my right leg through until my foot hit the floor, and then I followed suit with my left. Finally, I lowered my panty-clad pussy on to his already-bulging crotch.

He grinned. “This is nice,” he said. “Can you feel my cock with your pussy, Robyn?”

I blushed, and nodded. He made it sound so dirty.

He looked down at my breasts, raised his hands, and took hold of them, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Wow, they really feel as good as they look!” he said. “True wonders of nature.” He massaged them for a few seconds, then he drew back a little, and gave my nipples a soft pinch between his thumbs and forefingers. Looking up at my face, he grinned. “Now let me taste your sweet tongue.”

I felt rather revolted as I leaned forward and hesitantly brought my lips to his. I opened my mouth, our tongues met, and I did my best to put the same effort and energy into this kiss as I had with Lionel, Wally and Freddie. But … it was strangely awkward and difficult. After a few seconds, GG gently pushed against my chest, and our mouths parted.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said. “Forget about the fact that we’re related. Just focus on giving your pussy a nice treat. Rub yourself against me, feel your juices start to flow … and then we’ll try the kiss again.”

Feeling very ashamed and dirty, I began grinding my pussy against my great-grandfather’s erection, while he softly massaged my breasts. I closed my eyes, which helped, and as I imagined myself on Ethan’s lap instead of GG’s, my arousal slowly returned, and started to build. As my breathing grew heavier, GG grasped my nipples and pulled me closer to him, and our lips met again. This time I kissed him with more energy, and with my loins heating up by the second, I let myself get lost in the warmth, the saliva, the muscular lips, GG’s squirming tongue … he tasted unpleasant, but no more so than Lionel, and certainly not as awful as Wally.

The fact that I was currently French-kissing my own great-grandfather was not lost on me, but somehow I was suppressing that awful truth as I focused my attention on getting myself off by rubbing my clit against his hard erection. That he was hard at all should have had me running screaming from the room … but the afternoon’s events and my own horniness seemed to have wreaked havoc on my ability to make good decisions. My orgasm was close; now I just wanted to reach that climax.

GG had let go of my breasts; now he reached around me, and sank both hands inside the back of my panties. I uttered a weak muffled ‘mmph’ in protest, but as he began massaging the flesh of my buttocks, I had no will to make more of a fuss than that.

I broke off the kiss, buried my head in his shoulder, and humped against him for all I was worth. My orgasm hit suddenly, and I could not help moaning aloud. I continued rubbing for about half a minute more, as waves of pleasure washed through me, setting my skin ablaze with sensation, making me light-headed. Eventually I collapsed, slumping against GG’s chest, panting and limp, while he continued kneading my buttocks inside my panties.

“Now it’s time,” he whispered in my ear, “for these panties to come off.”

“Uhhh!” I gasped in panic. “No, GG!”

“It’s the final test,” he said. “Sure, you can get comfortable around men in nothing but your panties, but will you lose your nerve when the time comes to be fully naked in front of Ethan? And what will he think of your pussy? We can answer that first question easily, and prepare you for what’s to come. The second question … well, we can’t know Ethan’s mind, but there’s an assortment of men here who can give you the benefit of their experienced opinions. I haven’t steered you wrong so far, have I? Think how your confidence has grown already today. This is the last hurdle; if you can do this, you’ll be very well-prepared for your first sexual encounter with Ethan.”

“But I don’t mind if Ethan sees my pussy!” I whispered desperately. “I do mind if a bunch of old men see it!”

“You thought the same way about your boobs, earlier,” said GG. “It’ll be all right, I assure you. It’ll work out for the best. By the time you put your clothes back on, you’ll have reached a new height of confidence.”

I groaned. I so badly wanted my clothes back! And time was running out. Mum and Dad might show up at any minute. “There’s no time!” I said anxiously. “I have to get dressed!”

“Robyn, I promised you I’d have you dressed by the time your mother and father get here,” said GG softly, still caressing my bottom. “Do you still not trust me?”

“I … I do,” I said wretchedly. “I just … I’m afraid…” Tears welled up in my eyes. “GG, please don’t make me take my panties off!”

“Hush, sweetheart,” said GG. “I know it’s hard. All right, we’ll compromise. You don’t have to take your panties off. I’ll remove them for you – not immediately, but sometime in the next few minutes. Don’t worry – we’ll still have you dressed in time.”

“But how?” I wailed. “They could be here any moment! How do you know they won’t catch me without my clothes?”

“Because,” said GG, “they messaged me about half an hour ago, saying they were running late and wouldn’t be here until about six.”

“Ahhhh!” I gasped. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me before? I’ve been panicking!”

“I hoped you would just trust me,” said GG with a sigh. “But it’s okay. Trust has to be earned, I know that … and we’re only just getting to know one another. Now if you’ve recovered sufficiently from that lovely orgasm, why don’t you get up, and we’ll take some more photos?”

“Ugh,” I groaned. Had he not taken enough photos of me by now? But I slowly got up, carefully extracting my legs one at a time, and grimacing at how wet my panties felt. In truth I did rather want to take them off … but in the privacy of my own bedroom! Not in front of all these men and women.

“Turn around,” said GG.

“Why?” I asked him suspiciously.

“A trust exercise,” he replied. “Go on – turn around.”

I slowly did so, keeping my hands firmly pressed to my sides. I was afraid he was going to yank my panties down. I dug my fingers into my hips, just below my panties, and smiled nervously around at my little crowd of spectators. Lionel gave me a cheerful thumbs-up.

“Good,” said GG. “Now put your hands on your head.”

“No!” I protested. “You’ll pull my panties down!”

“You sure of that?” he inquired. “I told you this was a trust exercise. Have you so little faith?”

I looked back at him incredulously. “You told me yourself you would pull my panties down in the next few minutes!” I said. “This isn’t about trust; I’m taking you at your word!”

“Ah but it is about trust,” said GG. “I don’t ask you to trust me not to pull your panties down. I ask you to trust me to do what’s best for you. That may be pulling your panties down … or it may be showing you that not everything is about getting you naked. So once again, I am asking you: put your hands on your head please.”

I was not sure what to think. I felt as if he was playing mind games with me. It sounded like he was not planning to pull my panties down on this occasion … but what if he did? What if I put my hands up, like a gullible idiot, and he whisked my panties down to my ankles?

But on the other hand … this was a test. If I kept a firm grip on my panties, refusing to do what he said … I would undoubtedly fail the test. And what then? What would the consequences be?

Trembling nervously, I slowly relaxed my arms, then raised them upward, bending my elbows and then clasping my hands behind my head. GG’s chair behind me creaked. “Good girl,” he said, patting my bottom. “Now let’s go and take some photos. You can lower your hands now.”

I sighed with relief, and dropped my arms. I had passed! And I was still wearing my panties. Whew!

“Let’s go to the sofa,” said GG, gesturing to where Maggie and Helena (I was getting to know most of their names now) were sitting glazed-eyed in front of a gardening programme on the television.

I followed him nervously. The prospect of losing my panties in the next few minutes was terrifying, but at least it was not going to happen while I was behind GG.

“Ladies,” said GG, “I hate to be a pain, but I was hoping to use the couch for a few photos with Robyn before she leaves. Would you mind finding somewhere else to sit for a few minutes, please? I’d be terribly grateful.”

“Of course!” said Maggie, and she began to rise with a creak of old bones. Helena was rather grumpier about the idea, but GG helped her up, and soon the sofa was free.

“Lionel, Wally, Freddie, sit yourselves down,” said GG. “Robyn, you can sit on the lap of whoever’s in the middle … looks like that’s Lionel.”

Once Lionel was settled, with Wally on his right and Freddie on his left, I turned around and sat on his lap. He put his arms around my waist, and I leaned back against his chest. He was not a tall man, but he was still able to comfortably rest his chin on my left shoulder as he smiled at the camera.

“Now, um, Robyn, perhaps you could link arms with Wally and Freddie?” said GG.

I did so, which was not particularly comfortable: sitting on Lionel’s lap, I was positioned further forward than the two old men either side of me, so my arms were pulled back and pinned in place. I felt rather trapped.

“Say cheese!” said GG.

I smiled, as pleasantly as I could. Aside from the mild discomfort of my position, I could not get the thought out of my head that he was going to try to get me out of my panties, and that if he succeeded, I was going to be completely naked in front of all these men. But while I was sitting here, at least, I was presumably safe.

“Good!” said GG. “Now let’s make it a bit more fun. Wally, can you reach across with your right hand, and cup Robyn’s right boob?”

“What?” I gasped.

“Don’t look so shocked, Robyn,” said GG, chuckling. “He was giving ‘em both a good fondling not long ago! This’ll be quite tame in comparison.”

This was of course true, and I had no response but to pout indignantly as Wally took hold of my right breast.

“Now Freddie,” said GG, “you do the same with her left boob.”

I grimaced unhappily as Freddie’s arthritic fingers slowly but firmly closed around my left breast.

“What about me?” Lionel inquired. “I’m feeling a little left out!”

“Oh that’s right,” said GG. “You haven’t touched Robyn’s boobs yet, have you? What a pity. Still, as the middle chap, you get to have her on your lap. That has to count for something, yes?”

“I suppose so,” Lionel conceded. “I mean yes – of course it does. Delightful.”

“Smile!” said GG. We all did so, and he took another photo. Then he continued, “Now Robyn, lift your right leg up on to Wally’s lap, and your left leg on to Freddie’s.”

“What?” I said, alarmed. “I can’t do the splits, GG!”

“You don’t have to,” he said nonchalantly. “Just lean back a little more, bend your knees … it’ll work, trust me.”

I reluctantly lifted my right foot off the floor, which was actually pretty easy since my upper body was being held firmly in place by the three men, and put it on to Wally’s lap.

“Wally, let go of her boob,” said GG. “Grab her calf and hold her leg out wide.”

While Wally did this, I lifted my left leg up on to Freddie, who caught it and held it out wide, mirroring Wally. Despite my protests, I was actually quite flexible, and while I could not do the splits, I could get pretty close, so this position was not physically uncomfortable for my legs. Psychologically, on the other hand…

“GG, this feels a bit … obscene,” I said plaintively. “I mean, the view you’re getting of my panties…”

GG chuckled. “Yes, the wet patch is a little unflattering, I must say…”

“Argh!!” I cried, mortified, and I began to struggle. “Let down of my legs, please!”

“Relax!” said GG. “I won’t show the wet patch in the photo. And don’t be embarrassed about it! It just means you’ve been enjoying yourself … which is a good thing! But Lionel, can you reach down and cover Robyn’s panties with your right hand?”

“Certainly!” said Lionel, and I almost choked in shock as he slid his hand down my abdomen, and I felt his palm cupping my vulva while his fingers pressed against the gusset of my panties; the sensitive flesh of my vaginal opening could feel his knobbly knuckles through the damp material.

“Lionel!” I squealed, feeling more violated now than I had at any point so far this afternoon – which was saying a lot.

“He’s just hiding your panties from the camera,” said GG. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“A very good thing,” Lionel agreed, pressing his fingers and palm even more firmly against me. Then he began to move his whole hand in small, slow circles.

“Stop that!” I gasped.

“Say Camembert!” said GG.

“Camembert!” said Wally, Lionel and Freddie. I did not say anything, but I did manage to smile faintly before GG took his photo.

“Excellent,” said GG happily. “Now Robyn, turn your head to the right, and give Wally a good kiss. We’re about to wrap up for the day, so put plenty of tongue into it – give it your all.”

I was feeling rather traumatised, and Lionel’s hand gently rubbing my pussy was sending my brain into a state of near-panic, but I liked the sound of wrapping it up, so I decided to just bite the bullet, do what he was asking, and not make a fuss. I turned my head, met Wally’s lips, and then began French-kissing him while GG cackled and took more photos.

But soon Lionel’s hand, which was now blatantly massaging my pussy through my panties, finally sent me over the edge. I broke the kiss and exclaimed, “Lionel, could you stop that please!”

“What’s wrong?” asked GG.

“He’s … he’s rubbing my pussy with his hand!” I said desperately. My arms and legs still firmly pinned, I could do nothing to stop the dirty old man.

GG shrugged. “Robyn, not long ago you were rubbing your pussy on his knob! And having a very nice time of it, too. Once again, I think you’ll agree that a hand is less intimate than a cock. I suggest you simply enjoy it, as you did with the knob-rubbing. Lionel, really go to town with those fingers; she’ll come round soon enough!”

I gasped as Lionel’s rubbing intensified. Wally leaned in and kissed me again, and I reluctantly opened my mouth to let his tongue play with mine.

“Great!” said GG. “Freddie’s turn now, though. Last kiss of the day – really make it count!”

I turned the other way, my head buzzing, and found Freddie already leaning in for his kiss. The end was in sight, and I was starting to feel quite horny again, so I did as GG asked and gave the nonagenarian a deep and passionate kiss. Unconsciously, my pelvis began undulating as I ground my pussy against Lionel’s fingers.

“Oh, this is wonderful stuff!” said GG happily. “Very good!” He kept taking more and more photos, while I grew ever more horny and light-headed. But then he said, “Okay, on your feet everyone.”

Flushed and flustered, I stopped kissing Freddie, and as the two men flanking me released my legs, I brought my knees back together. Lionel stopped rubbing my pussy, withdrawing his hand, and I quickly got up from his lap.

“Now,” said GG, “Robyn, put your arms around Wally’s and Freddie’s shoulders. Then Wally and Freddie, you each put an arm around Robyn’s shoulders.

Both men were taller than I, and once more I found myself with my arms uncomfortably pinned. If they had put their arms around my shoulders first, then I could have just reached up behind them and grabbed their far shoulders easily, but this way, my arms were effectively locked in place. Fortunately, it seemed Wally recognised the problem.

“This is a little awkward,” he said. “I’m having to stoop. Can we switch our arms around?”

“No, no,” said GG cheerfully. “It looks good this way. Don’t worry, it won’t be for long, Lionel, can you reach around and grab Robyn’s breasts?”

“Hurrah!” said Lionel. “Yes indeed.”

I grimaced as yet another old man took hold of my bare breasts and began massaging them.

“Also Lionel,” said GG, “can you lean over Robyn’s shoulder, and give her a good French kiss?”

“Heh heh – it would be my pleasure!” said the milky-eyed man. He stuck his head over my shoulder, and I turned my head ninety-degrees so my mouth could meet his. As we explored each other’s tongues and lips, I closed my eyes.

“Good, good…” I heard GG say.

A few seconds passed. And then, suddenly, I felt my panties being pulled down. I wrenched my lips away from Lionel’s, and tried to reach down to grab my panties … but of course my arms were pinned and I could do nothing to prevent my chuckling great-grandfather from sliding my only remaining piece of clothing all the way down to my feet.

“GG!” I squealed.

“Can you lift your feet please, Robyn?” GG asked.

“No!” I exclaimed.

“Hmm,” said GG. “Wally, Freddie, can you stand up straight for a moment? Lift Robyn off the floor, briefly?”

“What do you think, Wally?” Freddie inquired. “Your back up to the task?”

“It’s just a straight lift,” said Wally. “I can manage it if you can.”

“No!” I gasped.

“One, two, three, lift!” said Freddie.

I felt myself being lifted, and as my heels cleared the carpet, I desperately pointed my toes, trying to preserve my contact with the floor. But it was no use: GG deftly whisked my panties out from beneath my feet, and I was now completely naked.

“There!” said GG triumphantly. “All done – you can set her down again now, chaps.”

“That was a mean trick!” I said hotly, as I struggled to extricate my arms. Having freed them, I slapped my right hand over my pussy.

GG looked surprised as he stuffed my panties into his pocket. “Robyn,” he said, “you knew your panties were coming off, and I assured you that you wouldn’t have to remove them yourself, because I knew that would be difficult for you. No need to look so shocked. This is a good thing! Now we can give you our objective opinions on your pussy, and you can have a little time getting comfortable being naked. Gentlemen, take a seat.”

Lionel, Wally and Freddie all sat down, and GG settled into a nearby armchair. He smiled at me. “Now uncover that pussy of yours,” he said, “and give us a slow twirl.”

“I … I don’t want to,” I said unhappily. I felt so vulnerable! Losing my panties felt worse than losing all of the rest of my clothing. Being totally naked was horribly mortifying.

“Now now,” said GG firmly, “don’t delay the inevitable. The sooner you show us your pussy, the sooner you’ll get your clothes back. Time’s ticking on! We need to get you dressed before your parents arrive, right?”

“Yes, and you promised me you would!” I said.

“I did,” he acknowledged, “but I can only move so fast, and I can’t be held responsible for any delays arising from your non-cooperation. As long as we keep things moving along, there won’t be a problem.”

And there it was. I had no choice after all. If I did not show my pussy as he had instructed, I would not get my clothes back until it was too late.

“Come on, Robyn,” GG continued pleasantly. “I’ve not let you down so far, have I? Trust me: this will help you get your man.”

Reluctantly, I removed my hand from my pussy, and turned to face the old men on the sofa. All eyes were riveted to my most private area, and it felt horrible.

“Where’s your pubic hair?” asked Freddie, puzzled. “You can’t be prepubescent at your age, surely?”

I gasped, mortified, and covered my pussy again. I had begun shaving my pussy on the advice of my best friend, Bridget, about six months ago; I never would have imagined at the time that I would be required to show my shaven mound to a bunch of old men. Now I would have given anything for just that little bit of protection from their ogling.

“Freddie, don’t show your ignorance!” said Lionel. “Women often shave downstairs these days. I think it looks nice.”

“Me too!” said Wally.

“Uncover yourself!” said GG. “And do a twirl.”

I hung my head, staring at the floor as I let my hand drift back to my side, and then slowly turned around on the spot. The old men murmured appreciatively.

“That’s a nice arse,” Wally commented.

“She’s beautiful all over!” said GG. “Well done, Robyn – you made it to the finish line. Let’s just have one final photo where you’re lying on your side across the laps of these three gentlemen.”

One final photo! Music to my ears. I could endure one more photo – and it sounded harmless enough … or at least it would, if it were not for the fact that I was now NAKED! But I could do it. I had to.

I sat down on Lionel’s lap, then turned and swung my legs up on to Freddie’s, before lying back on to Wally’s. Then, conscious of Lionel’s eager gaze on my pussy, I turned on to my side, facing GG and his tablet. Lionel immediately placed one hand on my left buttock, and began to gently fondle it. My stomach churned; I prayed he would not try to put his hand further down, between my buttocks and thighs. Oh my god – what if he tried to put a finger inside me?? I swallowed nervously.

“That’s great!” said GG. “Smile, everyone.”

I smiled anxiously, and he took his photo. The last photo! Assuming he was not about to go back on his word…

“And that’s it!” said GG. “We’re done. Congratulations, Robyn, you made it to the finish line! How are you feeling?”

“Very naked and embarrassed!” I replied candidly.

The men all laughed, as if I had made a joke. “You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about,” said Lionel, giving my bottom a squeeze. “You’re a lovely girl.”

“You can’t even see her, ya blind git!” said Freddie, chuckling in amusement. “Still, you’re right – she’s a beauty.”

I climbed off their laps. “Can I have my clothes now please?” I asked GG plaintively.

“Of course!” he replied, getting up from his chair. “You’ve certainly earned them. I’ll fetch them now.”

I was surprised, almost taken aback, by his enthusiastic compliance. I had been more than half expecting him to throw some further obstacle in my path.

As he shuffled towards the doorway, I began following him, but he waved me back. “No, you stay here,” he said. “I don’t want you knowing my secret hiding places, heh heh! Don’t worry, I’ll be back shortly.”

I bit my lip, and sat down in the chair he had vacated. I smiled awkwardly at the three men on the sofa, and they smiled back.

“So, Robyn,” said Wally, “we know you’re interested in a boy called Ethan … but that’s about all we know about you. What do you like to do when you’re not giving lap dances to old gents like us?”

I blushed. “I … I like watching films and TV series on various streaming services,” I said. “And I like to draw … though I haven’t done very much of that lately.”

“Let me guess … Game of Thrones!” said Freddie. “Seems like that’s all the rage these days.”

I shook my head. “I’m not allowed to watch that,” I said. “Yet. But I really like Downton Abbey, The Crown, Bridgerton, Masterchef…”

“Posh rubbish…” grumbled Lionel. I was fairly sure he was not talking about Masterchef.

“Give over, Lionel!” said Wally. “They’re good programmes, whatever you might think of the subject matter.”

“What do you like to draw, Robyn?” Freddie asked. “People? Landscapes? Still life?”

“Um, mainly Pokémon,” I said, feeling a little abashed. I had grown out of Pokémon, really, but I had not yet found anything I enjoyed drawing more than those weird and wonderful monsters. “And … other anime characters.”

“Animated?” asked Lionel, a little bemused.

“Anime,” I said again, a little louder. “Basically Japanese cartoons in a certain style.”

“Ah, I see,” said Lionel. “Very creative chaps, the Japanese. Have you ever seen any films by Akira Kurosawa? Genius, that man.”

“Sorry, no,” I replied, not having heard of the man.

“Ah, well if you get the chance, you should really watch some of his films,” said Lionel. “They’re truly wonderful...”

I listened politely as he enthused about old Japanese films. I am sure he could have continued for hours, but fortunately Wally intervened.

“Don’t bore the poor girl, Lionel!” he said, chuckling. “Honestly, you’d talk the hind leg off a donkey. Tell me about this pokey-thingy, Robyn – I’ve heard of it a few times, but I’ve no idea what it is.”

“Oh, well, Pokémon is basically short for ‘pocket monsters’,” I explained. “The idea is that there are all these different types of magical creatures with different fighting abilities, and you can capture them by throwing a Poké ball at them. The monster gets sucked into the ball, and stored there until you need it. If you catch a Pokémon you become its trainer, and it will fight for you in battles against other Pokémon, who belong to other trainers. Basically the stories in the games and the TV series are structured around these proxy duels between trainer characters. The franchise is massive; it covers everything from trading cards and comic books to movies and video games.”

“Oh!” said Wally. “That sounds interesting.” I am sure he was just being polite, but he was nice enough to ask some follow-up questions, which I was happy to answer.

GG had still not returned, however, and I was starting to get nervous. It was now ten to six, and I was not at all confident that Mum and Dad would not suddenly walk through the doorway, and my life as I knew it would be over.

Then Sheila walked in, and my heart sank as she approached me with a smirk. “Lost your knickers too?” she remarked. “Dear me, how careless of you. Perhaps these gentlemen should give you a good spanking for such carelessness.”

I gulped, and looked anxiously at the three old men, who were chuckling at the notion. “Hmm!” said Lionel. “That’s not a bad idea! What do you think, Robyn? Would Bernie approve of that?”

At that moment GG finally reappeared. “What’s that?” he asked. “Someone taking my name in vain?” He was carrying my clothing, I was relieved to see.

“Sheila suggested we give Robyn a spanking,” said Freddie, “for losing her panties.”

“Oh!” said GG, surprised. “Well that would hardly be fair, would it? I mean, it wasn’t her fault…”

“What if this Ethan is into spanking?” Lionel inquired shrewdly. “Shouldn’t we prepare her for that possibility?”

“Hmm!” said GG, intrigued. “Yes … yes, that’s a very good point.”

My stomach was in knots, my eyes were wide, my mouth was open. “But…” I gasped.

“Unfortunately there’s no time for that,” said GG, to my immense relief, as he shuffled toward me. “Come on, Robyn, time to get dressed.”

He handed me my panties, and I quickly pulled them over my feet, then stood up, tugging them all the way up. Next he gave me my bra, which I quickly put on, finally getting my breasts covered again. My shoes were next (I would rather have had my dress, but it seemed silly to make a fuss at this point), and at long last, I pulled my dress down my torso and over my panties, and sighed with relief.

“Feel better?” GG asked, smiling.

“Much!” I said fervently.

“Admit it, though,” he said, “you were starting to get used to being naked, weren’t you? Even without your panties. It was getting easier, wasn’t it?”

“A little, maybe,” I conceded grudgingly. “It was still really awful and embarrassing, though!”

“But it helped!” he insisted. “Now, if you get naked with Ethan, you’ll feel more confident in yourself, and that confidence may make the difference between impressing him and turning him off. Believe me, we did you a favour here.”

“I … I suppose so,” I said ruefully.

“Now,” GG continued. “Obviously you’re not going to tell your parents what you’ve been doing here this afternoon…”

“Obviously!” I agreed.

“So when they ask you what you did here all afternoon,” he said, “what are you going to tell them? We need to get our stories straight.”

“Um,” I said, realising he was right, and that I had not thought of this. “I suppose … that I just sat in your room, and talked to you?”

“About what?” GG pressed me.

I felt a little put on the spot. “Um … the war…?”

“World War Two?” GG inquired. “I was two years old! When it started, anyway. I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of wartime memories to share with you. Now, the Fifties and Sixties, on the other hand…”

“That sounds fine,” I said. “The Fifties and Sixties.”

“Okay,” he continued, “but your dad won’t buy that we spent the whole afternoon on a history lesson. Fortunately I usually take a nap during the afternoon, so you can say I napped for some of the time, while you … I don’t know … played on your phone, I suppose. Whatever you like to do with it. Social media maybe?”

I nodded. “Instagram,” I said, “mainly.”

“Ah yes,” said GG, “the place your nemesis hangs out. What was her name again? Zandyfloss?”

“Yes, that’s her Instagram handle,” I confirmed. “If you want to go to her site and say mean things about her, I wouldn’t mind!”

GG chuckled. “Maybe I will,” he said. “Come on back to my room; you can show me how to get there.”

“Goodbye Robyn!” said Wally. “It’s been lovely meeting you.”

“And snogging you,” added Freddie, grinning.

“And feeling you up,” said Lionel, with a dirty chuckle.

“Goodbye,” I said, my cheeks burning. “Thank you for, um, helping me get … less shy, I suppose.”

“You’re welcome!” they replied.

I returned to GG’s room, and downloaded Instagram to his tablet. I showed him Zandy’s page, and what a narcissistic and vacuous cow she is.

He laughed when he saw her photos. “And Ethan’s with this girl?” he said. “I’d say you have an excellent chance with him. You’re at least as pretty as she is … and a far nicer person, I can tell.”

I smiled. “Thank you,” I said.

About five minutes later, Mum and Dad arrived. The sight of them made me feel very uncomfortable about what I had been doing with GG and his friends, and I mumbled a goodbye before hurrying from the room. Dad stayed behind to talk to GG, and Mum and I headed back to the car.

“How did it go?” she asked brightly.

“Fine,” I replied. I was not planning to elaborate unless pushed to do so.

When Dad returned to the car, a couple of minutes later, he was frowning. Without saying a word, he climbed into the driver’s seat, and started the car. Only when we were halfway home did he finally break his silence.

“So,” he said, “did you learn much from Grandad?”

“Yes, lots,” I replied. “I call him GG – short for Great-Grandad, you know? He and I actually got on pretty well. He, um … we talked quite a bit.”

“About what?” he asked.

“Well, um,” I said carefully, “he was telling me about the Fifties and Sixties … and I was telling him about Pokémon and Instagram…”

“What did you learn about the Fifties and Sixties?” he inquired.

“Um,” I said, my brain freezing up in panic, “you know … just … his school … and his friends…” I was desperately trying to think of some historical event from the Fifties … or from the Sixties…

“Anything specific?” he pressed me. “What about his school? What was it like? Who were his friends? What were they like?”

“I don’t know!” I said miserably. “He … he fell asleep! We didn’t really get to talk much. He just fell asleep and I … I didn’t want to wake him so I just quietly played with my phone…”

“Good grief, Robyn, the whole idea of this exercise was so that you could learn from Grandad’s wisdom and experience!” Dad snapped. “But apparently you learned nothing! You just played on your phone and didn’t listen to a damn thing he said! No wonder he fell asleep!”

“It wasn’t like that!” I protested. “I didn’t touch my phone until after he was asleep!

“Then how did he know you were on it?” Dad demanded.

“He … I … obviously because I was on my phone when he woke up again!” I retorted.

“Okay, and what did you talk about after he woke up?” Dad asked.

I thought quickly. I could not let myself me caught in another lie. “We … we talked about … my school,” I said. “He … he gave me some advice.”

“Oh?” Dad asked. “What kind of advice?”

“You know … how to deal with … bullying,” I said, improvising hurriedly. “There’s this girl at school … she’s not very nice to me. GG was giving me some tips about … being confident … and standing up for myself. That sort of thing.”

“Hmm,” said Dad, seeming somewhat mollified. “Well at least you got SOME good out of this visit. But I’m still very disappointed in you, Robyn. It seems as if you hardly learned anything.”

At this point, I knew from experience, the best course of action was simply to apologise, rather than try to argue. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. “I’m just … I’ll do better next time.”

“Hmmph,” was all he said in response.

Nothing more was said on the subject all the way home. We had dinner, watched some television, and then, at about eight-thirty, I went up to my room. Already, the afternoon’s events seemed not quite real, like something I had dreamed. The thought that I had been naked in a room full of old people – and a couple of middle-aged nurses – seemed almost ridiculously implausible. I knew it had happened, obviously … it just felt as if it had happened to someone else.

I called Bridget.

“Hi babe!” she said, her face wobbling around the screen as she attempted to prop her phone up on her bed. “What’s up?”

“Oh,” I said, seeing a horizontal leg with a sock-clad foot in the background. “You have company. I can call later…”

“Don’t be silly, it’s just Derry,” said Bridget.

The curly-haired head of her brother Derek leaned into view. “Hi Robyn,” he said.

“All right Derry?” I replied nonchalantly. The boy was about thirteen now, I guessed. “Bridge, I was hoping to talk to you alone…”

“Say no more,” said Derek, swinging his legs off the bed. “I’ll go back to me own room.”

Once he was gone, I said, “Bridge, I just had the weirdest day.”

“Do tell!” said Bridget, her interest piqued.

I took a deep breath. How much should I tell her? Probably not everything. But … some of it, at least. “Okay, so my dad got it into his head that I should spend some time with his grandfather at the old people’s home. Learning from the old fart’s wisdom and knowledge and stuff. So he and Mum dropped me off there…”

“Waaaait waitwaitwait,” said Bridget, sliding herself backwards and then crossing her legs. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You mean your parents took you to an old people’s home, and left you there alone with your great-grandfather? Not your grandfather, but your GREAT-grandfather? How the fuck old is he?”

“Eighty-five,” I replied.

“And how well do you know him?”

“Barely at all,” I said. “Before today I’d spent maybe two hours with him, tops – and none of that was by myself. And Mum and Dad did most of the talking – he and I said barely ten sentences to each other.”

“Okay,” said Bridget, “well already this is weird. Go on. What happened?”

“Well he asked me about myself, and if I had a boyfriend, and I told him there was someone I was interested in…”

“Ethan, I assume?” said Bridget, grinning.

“Yeah … anyway, he got it into his head that he could help me win Ethan over,” I continued. “He started giving me advice, on how I could get Ethan’s attention, and act in a way that would attract him…”

“Okay I’m getting big creep vibes from this already,” said Bridget. “What kind of advice?”

“He … he suggested I wear shorter skirts,” I said, my cheeks growing hot, “and … and flash my panties…”

“Ugh! He actually said that??” exclaimed Bridget. “What a pervert! Babe, I’d have run a mile at that point! What did you do?”

I gulped. “Bridge, I’m probably telling it badly,” I said. “He was actually super persuasive. He … he suggested I practise … you know, practise flashing … at him…”

She stared at me, aghast. “He asked you to flash your undies at him? What a creep! Please tell me you didn’t do that!”

I bit my lip.

Bridget plunged her head down into the bedclothes in front of her. “Oh my God…” came her muffled voice. Then she sat up. “If you’re that desperate for advice on how to get Ethan,” she said, “just ask me!”

“I … I thought the male perspective might be helpful,” I said. “Heck, Bridge, it’s Ethan! Do you think YOU could get him?”

Bridget shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “If he wasn’t with Zandy. I don’t know. I think he’d be more likely to go for Freya or Martina though. But frankly, I wouldn’t want him. He’s too full of himself. Andy Hale’s more my type.”

“Good luck with that!” I said. “Andy’s got eyes only for Lucy Hatcher.”

“Yeah,” said Bridget with a sigh. “But look – I’m sure I could still give you good advice. Better than giving Ethan a peek up your skirt … which is frankly demeaning.”

“That’s just it, though,” I said. “You wouldn’t give me that kind of advice. But what if that’s what works? What if, for a lesser mortal like me, that’s the ONLY thing that’ll work?”

Bridget shook her head. “I doubt it’ll work,” she said. “There’s lots of girls who’d be happy to flash Ethan. And heck, let’s face it: whoever he wants to be with, if he wants to see her undies, you think she’ll refuse him? Ethan’s a man of experience, Robyn. You think he’s going to be impressed by the sight of a pair of panties? Especially on a girl who … no offence … isn’t a ten?”

I shrugged. Then I pursed my lips. “Do you think Zandy’s a ten?” I asked.

Bridget blew a raspberry. “Fuck off!” she said. “She knows how to apply makeup well, that’s all. Without it she’s not even a nine.”

“Really?” I said sceptically. “Then what the heck am I?”

“Jeez, I don’t know,” said Bridget. “Rating looks is stupid anyway. If you really want to know, ask a boy.”

“The men at the care home told me I’m beautiful…” I said carelessly.

“You ARE beautiful,” said Bridget firmly. “But … wait … men? Okay, Robyn, I think you need to continue your story. What else happened??”

I could not look her in the eye. “I, um,” I said awkwardly, “well you see … GG sort of … talked me into taking off my dress…”

Bridget gasped. “The old pervert! But what the hell, Robyn?? How did he convince you to do that?”

I shrugged. “He said that I was too self-conscious, and I was likely to freeze up, or something, if Ethan ever got me out of my clothes. So he suggested practising being … in my underwear … um, around men…”

Bridget stared at me. “Men, plural? You’re telling me multiple old men were ogling you in your undies?”

More than that, I thought to myself. But based on Bridget’s reaction so far, it seemed wise not to hit her with more shocking revelations. “They were very complimentary,” I said defensively.

“I’m sure they were!” Bridget exclaimed. “You gave them wanking fodder for months to come! Good grief, Robyn! How could you??”

“Look, I didn’t call you to get a bollocking,” I said irritably. “I get enough of that from Dad.”

Bridget calmed down immediately. “All right,” she said, “I’m sorry. I’m just quite shocked … and anxious on your behalf. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a bit better.

“So you took off your dress, and let some old men ogle you,” Bridget recapped. She sighed. “Then what happened?”

I shrugged. “Well, it did help me get more comfortable with being undressed around men,” I said, “which was the goal. I think I got a bit of a confidence boost. The question is, how am I going to apply this with Ethan?”

“Yeah, well, that’s the hard part,” Bridget acknowledged. “You’ve only got three days until the end of term. Two and a half, even. Then you’re off to Egypt, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” I confirmed. “Our flight’s on Thursday afternoon. Honestly, I’m not expecting to get anywhere with Ethan before then. But maybe after the summer holidays…”

“Or during,” said Bridget. “You’re going to Annabel’s sixteenth birthday party in August, right?”

“Yeah, but what hope do I have of catching his attention there?” I asked ruefully. “He’ll be surrounded.”

“You never know!” said Bridget. “Perhaps if you catch his attention somehow in the next couple of days, and wear a sexy dress to the party … it’s not beyond the realm of possibility…”

Catch his attention. This had been GG’s advice, too. “I … I’ll think about it,” I said.

And think about it I did, as I lay in the darkness an hour later, waiting to fall asleep. In particular, I thought about wearing a shorter skirt to school tomorrow. One that would catch Ethan’s eye…

I had no time to shorten one … but as it happened, I would not have to. I still had “The Mistake” – a skirt Mum had bought for me when I was nine years old. It had been hanging on a rack of smaller skirts in the school’s second-hand shop, and Mum had grabbed it along with two others, thinking they were all the same size. When I tried it on, it was immediately obvious that while the length was fine, the waistband was enormous on me.

“Oh dear!” Mum had said. “Well, maybe you’ll grow into it.”

By the time I drifted into sleep, I had made up my mind. In the morning I would try the skirt on. A skirt made for a fat nine-year-old might look dreadful on a relatively slim sixteen-year-old, but it was worth a try, at least…

The next morning, I was awakened from a dream about zombies invading the school. They had cornered me in the library, and had forced me to give them lap dances in my panties, and kiss them while they fondled my breasts.

I shuddered, both relieved that it had only been a dream, but also mortified at the memory of what I had done at the care home. Remembering the tongues of old men in my mouth was horrifying, and I now found it hard to understand how I had let it happen.

GG was obviously a creepy old pervert … but that did not mean his advice was bad. A lot of it had rung true, and in particular, his suggestion that I wear a shorter skirt and show off my legs to Ethan seemed like a good one. It was worth a try, anyway. What did I have to lose?

I retrieved The Mistake from the bottom of the drawer in which it had languished for the past seven years, and tried it on. As I had suspected, the waistband was now more or less my size. It was a little tight around the hips, but not enough to stretch out the pleats. The important thing was that it was short: rule-breakingly short. It might even be shorter than anyone else’s at school today. Which was precisely the point. I just hoped that I would not get sent home…

Downstairs, I found Mum in the kitchen. “Dad left already?” I asked.

Mum nodded as she turned around. “Yes, he wanted to … good heavens, where did that skirt come from?”

“It’s, um,” I said, my cheeks reddening, “you bought it from the school shop a few years ago but it was too big. You said I would grow into it, and you were right!”

“Grow into it? You’ve grown out of it!” she said. “It’s much too short.”

“Oh please Mum,” I said desperately. “I’ve got just two days to get Ethan’s attention, and … other girls wear skirts this short and get away with it!”

Mum chuckled. “Well it’s your funeral if you get into trouble. But your exams are done and it’s almost the end of term. And I remember only too well how my friends and I used to flout the rules on skirt length back in my own high school days.”

“Thanks Mum!” I said, relieved.

“If your dad sees you and kicks up a fuss, though,” she added, “leave me out of it! Don’t tell him I approved it or anything. I’m turning a blind eye, not approving.”

“Understood!” I said, smiling. “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck,” she said. “Ethan’s a very nice boy.”

As it turned out, my skirt was not in fact the shortest I saw at school that day. And while I did get a couple of nice compliments (as well as a couple of snarky insults), I did not get an opportunity to show off my legs for Ethan. I went home feeling very disappointed.

The next morning, I wore the same skirt again … but this time I resolved to roll up the waistband, as GG had suggested. My visit to the care home was feeling more and more like a bizarre nightmare, the memories of which I was doing my best to suppress … but certain parts of GG’s advice had sunk in, and I felt it would be nice if I could salvage something worthwhile from that horrible afternoon.

Mum raised her eyebrows upon seeing the same skirt again, but all she said was, “Any luck yet?”

“Not yet,” I admitted. “Maybe today.”

I was too chicken to roll up my skirt when I got to school. I told myself I would do it when I saw Ethan. But to my dismay, I could not find him anywhere – not during break, nor in the refectory during lunch, nor anywhere else. I casually asked Annabel if her brother was off sick today, and she said he was in Buxton with the rest of the rugby team for a friendly with Chamberlain College.

I felt very discouraged. My hope was fading. I now had just half a day to catch Ethan’s eye, and since there would be no lunch on Wednesday, that left only the morning break to pull off some kind of stunt. As I walked home, I resolved to grab whatever opportunity presented itself, and make the most of it, even at the risk of embarrassing myself. I had to get Ethan to notice me!

Wednesday came, and almost immediately, things began to go wrong. I came downstairs in my short skirt, only to find Dad in the kitchen. “Goodness, Robyn!” he said. “You’re not planning on wearing that to school, are you?”

I looked from him to Mum, whose expression remained blank. “Yes…?” I said. “I’ve been wearing it the past couple of days, and none of my teachers said anything.”

“Well it’s too short,” said Dad firmly. “Go and change.”

“But Dad!” I said plaintively, “it’s the last day of term! Nobody’s going to care. I thought you were okay with short hemlines, anyway.”

“I have nothing against them, within reason,” he replied. “I do however have something against breaking the rules … which that skirt definitely does. Go and change.”

I sighed, turned around, and went back upstairs to change. When I came back down, in one of my usual skirts, I joined Mum and Dad for breakfast. While I was eating my toast and honey, Dad got to his feet. “Right, I’m off,” he said. “Have a good last day of school, Robyn.” He gave Mum a kiss, then headed for the door.

Once he had left, I drained the last of my tea, and finished off my toast.

“He won’t be here when you get back, you know,” Mum remarked.

I shrugged. “Okay?”

“And if you happened to sneak out of the house in a different skirt, I’m sure I wouldn’t notice,” she added.

I stared at her. “Mum, you’re the best! Thank you!” I said.

“For what…?” Mum asked mildly.

“Um … nothing!” I said happily.

“Quite,” she replied.

I hurried upstairs, changed into The Mistake, and left the house while Mum’s back was turned. “Bye Mum!” I said.

“Bye darling,” she replied, without turning around.

I walked to school, grimly resolved to jump at whatever chance came along. And this time, for once, the stars aligned beautifully.

It was just after the second lesson (during which, of course, no work got done). I had just left the classroom, and was heading to the back entrance when I spotted Ethan and one of his friends going into the boys’ toilets. I stopped in my tracks, staring at the toilet door. If he had gone in, then he would soon be coming out again. And that would be my big chance.

I dashed into the girls’ toilet … but alas! no stalls were available, and two other girls were waiting for one. Ugh! I could not roll up my waistband in front of them: that would be way too obvious! One of them was Janet Corley, a sixth-former, who might be a friend of Ethan’s.

I was running out of time! Leaving the toilet, I hurried back to the classroom I had just left. Mr Perrault was just leaving. “Forget something, Robyn?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Yes sir,” I replied. “My … pen.”

“All right then,” he said. “Have a good…”

But I had already hurried past him. The room was empty. I quickly put down my bag, sucked my tummy in, and hiked up then folded over the waistband of my skirt, tucking it down inside itself. I tugged my skirt back into place, and looked down at my hemline.

It was short … but was it short enough? This was my one big chance; I had to make the most of it. Sucking my tummy in again, I folded my waistband over again, then tugged the skirt down all around. Now it was frighteningly short! For a moment, I almost chickened out and unfolded it again. But then I began to panic that I had already taken too long, and missed my opportunity. That would be awful!

Untucking my blouse just enough so it hung down over my skirt’s bulging waistband, I hurried out into the corridor again. A boy was emerging from the toilet; was Ethan still in there? Or had he already left?

“Whoa!” said the boy, stopping in his tracks and staring at my legs. “Nice, Robyn! Love the new look!”

I blushed. “Thanks … Lucas,” I said, remembering his name just in time. He was a couple of years younger than me, and while he was not unattractive, he was too young and immature for my tastes. Still, compliments were always nice.

The door opened again, and there was Ethan, this time on his own. Now was my chance! “Hi Ethan!” I said breathlessly.

Ethan stared me up and down. “Wow! Robyn!” he said. “That’s a really short skirt! I hope you don’t get into trouble for it.”

“It’s the last day of school,” I said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I figure if there’s any day to take a risk, it’s today.”

“I like your thinking,” he said with a grin.

My heart was pounding. This was going so well! Now I just had to enact the move I had practised over and over again in my bedroom. “I suppose I’ll see you at Annabel’s party…?” I ventured.

“Oh, you’re coming to that?” he said. “Cool! Yeah, well, as her brother I should probably put in an appearance.”

“Can you remind me of your address?” I asked. “I know it was on the invitation, but I seem to have lost that.”

“Sure,” he said. “It’s 99 Thistledown Road…”

“Okay just a second,” I said, rummaging in my bag. I pulled out a notepad and paper. “Dad confiscated my phone; got to do this the old-fashioned way!” I scribbled down ‘99 Thistledown Road’, an address that I had already committed to memory. “Thanks. See you later, Ethan!”

“See you, Robyn,” he said.

I turned and began walking away, but fumbled my pen and dropped it … as it fell, I lunged to catch it, but ended up kicking it forward a few feet. I chased after it, then bent over to pick it up. As I straightened up, I glanced back over my shoulder. Ethan was staring at me, a big grin on his face. I had no idea what he had seen, but I strongly suspected I had just given him a glimpse of my white panties. Mission accomplished!

Suppressing a giggle, I continued down the corridor. If GG was right, Ethan would now have my skirt and legs, and possibly panties, burned into his brain. It had gone so well! Perhaps my visit to the care home, as horrible as it was, was worth it after all.

“Hey … Robyn,” said Ethan’s voice, just behind me. I stopped and turned in surprise.

“Hello again!” I said.

“Robyn, I’m actually having a little get-together at my house this Saturday,” he said. “Not a party; just seven or eight of us, hanging out, playing video games and stuff. You want to come along?”

“I’d love to!” I said, my heart full of anguish. “Except I’ll be in Egypt! We’re flying out there tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, okay,” said Ethan, looking disappointed. Not half as disappointed as I was!

“Maybe,” I said hesitantly, “we could exchange numbers? Get together sometime after I get back?”

“Sure, that would be cool,” he replied, nodding.

Trying not to look too excited, I dug in my bag for my phone, only to remember I had just told him I did not have it. “Oh bother,” I said. “Confiscated.”

He had pulled out his own phone. “Give me your number then,” he said. “I’ll text you, and then you’ll have mine when you get your phone back.”

“Okay!” I said, and I recited it for him.

He tapped it into his phone. A moment later, my phone buzzed in my bag. The colour drained from my face.

“Confiscated, eh?” he said, grinning. “Well well. Didn’t want to drop your phone?”

“I … I didn’t…” I said, flustered.

“It was an awesome move, Robyn,” he said, chuckling. “Well played.”

I blushed. I had no choice but to come clean. “I hoped you would enjoy the view.”

“I did,” he said. “Look, if you’re not flying out until tomorrow, does that mean you’re free this afternoon?”

“Yes!” I said, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

“Then come on over,” he said. “Say, three-ish? I did have a plan for this afternoon, but I can cancel it. Frankly I’d rather hang out with you.”



“I’ll be there,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’ll have to be home for dinner, but … um … Ethan … are you and Zandy still together…?”

He smiled. “Technically, yeah. But not for long. Our relationship’s been in trouble for a while. Do you … want to cancel…?”

“No!” I said quickly. “I’ll see you later!”

He smiled. “Okay then.” He turned, and walked away.

My heart was singing for the rest of the morning. When I told Bridget what had happened with Ethan, she was disapproving, but reluctantly impressed. “I don’t know what that says about him,” she said, “but I suppose congratulations are in order.”

I giggled. “Thanks,” I said.

Once Prizegiving was over, I met up with Mum, who had been sitting at the back with the other parents. “No prizes for you this year?” she inquired.

I shrugged. “You know I’m not an academic superstar, Mum. I did my best.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll see when your GCSE results come,” she said.

I smiled nervously. I was not looking forward to seeing those results. “Mum,” I said, changing the subject, “Ethan invited me over to his house this afternoon…”

“He did?” asked Mum in surprise. “Wow – so your plan worked! You got Ethan’s attention?”

I nodded. “So … I can go to his house?”

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, today’s not really the best day, is it? We have all the packing to do…”

“I can pack this evening!” I said. “I have a list all prepared. It won’t take me long.”

Mum sighed. “Robyn, I’m concerned that if you go to his house, having just caught his interest, he’ll be expecting … too much from you. You’d be better off keeping him waiting a bit. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to see him after we get back.”

“I’m not planning to go all the way with him, Mum,” I said, my cheeks burning. I was not being very honest; if Ethan wanted to take my virginity today, he was not going to have to try very hard to persuade me.

“That’s good,” said Mum, “but … I just … I worry. That’s my job, you know?” She smiled. “I know he’s a nice boy, and you’ve been wanting this for a long time. Just … please be careful! He’s not going to respect you, or stay with you for long, if you’re too much of a pushover. Please promise me you won’t have sex with him today.”

I did not want to make such a promise, but if this was the price I had to pay for Mum’s support, then so be it. “I promise,” I said. There were, after all, plenty of other things he and I could do.

“Then you have my blessing,” she said.

I hugged her. “Thank you!” I exclaimed.

When we got home, I went upstairs and changed into a blue tank top and a pretty blue and yellow miniskirt. The skirt was my shortest; not as outrageous as the rolled-up school skirt I had impressed Ethan with, but rather shorter than that same skirt unrolled.

Mum raised an eyebrow when I came downstairs. “You be careful,” she said. “Don’t let Ethan think you’re only there for one thing.”

“I made you a promise, Mum,” I reminded her. “I won’t break it.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding.

Half an hour later, while we were eating lunch, Dad arrived home unexpectedly. I was immediately alarmed, and hoped he would not get a chance to see my skirt before I left the house.

He seemed quite good-natured as he sat down to eat with us, but my stress level was high. I did not plan on bringing up my impending trip to Ethan’s house, but unfortunately Mum raised the subject herself.

“Robyn’s going over to a friend’s house this afternoon,” she said. “His name’s Ethan; he’s a very nice young man. I told her she could; I hope that’s okay…”

“It is not okay,” said Dad abruptly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve made other plans for her.”

“What plans?” I asked desperately. “I can pack this evening! It won’t take me long – I’ve already made a complete list of everything I’m taking…”

“I’m not talking about packing,” he said sternly. “I’m talking about you going back to Twilight Valley Care Home, to spend some more time with Grandad.”

“What??” I gasped, horrified.

“You failed to learn anything from him last time!” he snapped back. “This time you’re going to pay attention, and not play on your phone the whole time. In fact I think you can leave your phone behind, just to make sure.”

“But … but Dad!” I exclaimed, my eyes filling with tears. “You don’t understand! I’ve been trying to get close to Ethan for years! Now I finally have a chance with him!”

“Oh, it’s like that is it?” said Dad, raising an eyebrow. “We’ll if it’s meant to be, it can wait until we come back in two weeks.”

“But what if Ethan doesn’t realise it’s meant to be,” I wailed, “and he isn’t willing to wait? What if another girl captures his heart while we’re away?”

“Then it wasn’t meant to be,” said Dad simply. “Anyway it’s all arranged; I discussed it with Grandad this morning. He’s expecting you at two o’clock.”

“I’m not going!” I said obstinately. “I refuse to go! He’s a pervert; I don’t want to spend any more time with him.”

“That’s enough!” Dad growled. “How dare you slander him like that?”

“But he is!” I insisted. “I didn’t tell you what happen last time I was there, but he … he touched me. Inappropriately! And he made me get naked! In front of all his friends!”

Mum’s jaw dropped.

“Silence!” Dad shouted, his face red with fury. “I will not listen to this … this outpouring of lies and slanderous attacks on my grandfather! How dare you, Robyn! You take back those foul lies right now, or I swear to Almighty God you will pay for them severely!”

I had never seen him so angry, and I shrank back in fear. I had no idea what kind of punishment he would impose on me if I did not retract my words, but I was certain it was not worth finding out. “I take it back,” I said in a small voice, hanging my head. It was stupid to have tried to tell on GG like that, and I was kicking myself. Yes, GG and his friends had probably taken advantage of me a bit, but I had gone along willingly (if reluctantly) with everything, and GG had the photos and videos to prove it. If he wanted to, GG could make my life hell. “Can you … please … not tell GG I said those things…?” I asked Dad anxiously.

“Hmmph,” he snorted. “I should! But it would probably hurt his feelings unnecessarily. Very well! I won’t tell him. But give me your phone! You can have it back this evening, after I’m satisfied that you learned a lot from Grandad.” He held out his hand.

I hated to part with my phone, but it was useless to refuse. I was about to give it to Dad, when I suddenly had a thought. “Wait!” I said. “I need to text Ethan to let him know I won’t be able to come over today.”

“Be quick about it!” said Dad.

I hurriedly typed into my phone: ‘Hi Ethan. I’m so sorry! My Dad made plans for me today and won’t let me come over. I guess it’ll have to wait until after I get back from Egypt :( Gutted! See you soon. Robyn.’

I then switched off my phone, and gave it to Dad, who pocketed it. “All right,” he said. “Now let’s finish our lunch, and then we’ll head straight to Hopley.”

I bit my lip nervously. “I … I need to go and change.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Why…?” he asked.

“I’m dressed to impress a boy!” I said irritably. “I don’t want GG seeing me in this outfit.”

“Perhaps he should!” Dad retorted. “I’d be interested to hear his thoughts on what you choose to wear in order to ‘impress a boy’. I’m sure he’ll have a few choice pieces of advice about modesty.”

I stared at him. “You really don’t know him at all, do you?” I said. “I told you, he’s a pervert. He’d love this outfit … and that’s exactly why I don’t want to wear it for him.”

“We’ll see about that!” said Dad, glaring at me. “You can jolly well wear that outfit … and don’t blame me when he gives you a lecture about it!”

“Why not just lecture me yourself?” I grumbled. “Then I can go and change. Why are you so keen to outsource your lecturing?”

“Because you’ve been saying extraordinarily nasty things about that dear old gentleman,” said Dad sternly, “and frankly, I want to see you eat your words!”

“Fine,” I said rebelliously. “But don’t blame ME when he ogles me and … and … and stuff.” I had almost said “and touches me inappropriately”, but caught myself just in time. I knew it would have enraged Dad.

Dad shook his head, and sighed. “Robyn, you have to learn to be more respectful or your elders,” he said. “I really hope Grandad can teach you that, because I don’t seem to be doing a very good job. But I warn you: if I hear one disrespectful word out of your mouth, aimed at him, while we’re there in his presence, I’ll be taking your phone away for a lot longer than just half a day.”

This was no idle threat, and I fell silent. I could not bear the thought of losing my phone for a full day, or even longer.

Ten minutes later, I was feeling rather miserable as Dad drove me to Hopley. I had come so close to being alone and intimate with Ethan! I might even have been his girlfriend by the end of today if Dad had not thrown a spanner in the works.

“Cheer up, Robyn,” he said. “This’ll be good for you, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure it will,” I said glumly. But I was dreading it. On Sunday GG had persuaded me to get naked; who knew what he would talk me into today?

We arrived, and I got out of the car. Dad looked at my legs, and tutted. “That skirt really is short, isn’t it? Look, Robyn, I’m not a prude, you know. I don’t really have a problem with you wearing a skirt like that, if you’re out with your friends or going to a party or whatnot. I really do think, however, that it’s a bad choice for going to a boy’s house where you’ll be alone with him and unchaperoned. It’s a recipe for disaster.”

“I promised Mum I wouldn’t … you know,” I said. “Go all the way with Ethan. She was worried too. But she trusts me to keep my promises, and I wouldn’t let her down.”

Dad nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “I respect that. Now come on – let’s go in and see if Grandad is really the ‘pervert’ you claim he is.”

I said nothing, but followed him inside. At the front desk, Dad introduced himself and me, and the receptionist waved us vaguely through.

“I don’t know why I bother,” said Dad. “Might as well just walk straight past that woman, for all the attention she pays us.”

Since GG’s room was on the way to the common room, we checked it first. Dad knocked, and we were both a little surprised to hear a muffled “Come in!”

“Hello Grandad,” said Dad, pushing the door open. “Not feeling sociable today? Oh … are you all right?”

GG was sitting up in his bed. “Yes yes, I’m all right,” he said. “I just came here to get away from the infernal racket in the common room.”

I listened, and could hear distant music. “Is that jazz?” I asked.

GG nodded. “Terrible affront to the senses,” he said.

“Really?” asked Dad in surprise. “I had no idea you had such a strong aversion. I’m quite partial to a bit of jazz myself.”

Grandad rolled his eyes. “You get that from your dad,” he said. “He has the strangest taste in music.”

“We’ll agree to disagree on that,” said Dad. “Anyway, Robyn’s here to make up for her lack of attentiveness last time. I assure you, she’ll pay attention this time, and she won’t be playing on her phone … mainly because I’ve confiscated it! She’ll get it back when I pick her up later.”

“All right, that sounds good,” said GG, nodding. “Did you really remember nothing of what I told you, Robyn? About rationing, the collapse of the British Empire, the Cold War, the rise of rock and roll music, the Mods and the Rockers … any of that?”

I blushed. This was blatantly unfair – he had never talked about any of that! But of course I had to maintain the pretense; I could not say what really happened. For one thing, it was now clear that Dad would not believe me. “I’m so sorry, GG,” I said awkwardly, staring at the floor. “I’ll pay better attention this time, I promise.”

“What do you think of her outfit, Grandad?” Dad inquired.

“Oh, um,” said GG, “well, it’s very … I mean, that’s quite a short skirt by today’s standards. Back in the sixties, though, that would seem very modest, heh heh! It doesn’t bother me, anyway, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Hmm,” said Dad. “I thought perhaps you might disapprove.”

“I don’t judge by appearances, Melvin,” said GG with a shrug. “I’m less interested in what she’s wearing than in how she’s behaving.”

“Well that’s fair enough,” said Dad grudgingly. “You know, she … she said some pretty harsh things about you…”

“Dad!” I said anxiously. “You said…”

“Oh, right,” said Dad. “Well … I won’t go into details, but I must say I was quite upset with her. She was obviously just lashing out, but I was rather horrified that she would make such outlandish claims.”

GG looked at me shrewdly. “Oh really?” he said. “I’m curious what those claims were. I won’t pry, but if they were as bad as you say, I’d like to know how you plan to punish such a transgression.”

“I haven’t decided,” Dad admitted.

“You confiscated my phone!” I said.

“That was because you played on your phone last time, instead of learning from Grandad,” said Dad.

“Do you ever … spank her?” GG inquired.

I stared at him. So did Dad.

“I, uh, think she might be a little old for that,” said Dad.

“Too right!” I agreed heartily.

“Nonsense!” GG snorted. “I spanked my girls right up until they left home to get married, at the ages of eighteen and nineteen. And I know for a fact that one of them – your mother – continued to get the odd spanking from her husband – your father, obviously – for some time after that.”

“Grandad!” said Dad in a pained voice. “I didn’t need to know that! And I’m sure that sort of spanking wasn’t for disciplinary purposes!”

“Don’t be crude, Melvin,” said Grandad sternly. “It absolutely was for disciplinary purposes. I witnessed it myself on a couple of occasions. You know as well as I do that your mum has a temper. I remember only too well, not long after they got married, Sarah flaring up because Ken told me an amusing story about something that happened on their honeymoon. She was embarrassed, I suppose. Anyway she started shouting at Ken … and after he tried and failed to calm her down, he pulled her over his knee, flipped up her dress, pulled her panties down, and gave her a firm bare-bottom spanking – right in front of me! Now I dare say such a thing would be frowned upon these days, but it had an instant, almost magical effect on Sarah. She calmed right down, and became as meek as a lamb.”

“That’s … extraordinary!” said Dad, clearly shaken by this revelation. “I had no idea! I certainly never saw Dad spank Mum. I do remember her losing her temper a few times – but Dad hated arguing with her in front of us. He would take her outside where we couldn’t hear, and … oh…”

“That, of course, is between a husband and his wife,” said GG. “I’m not saying you should discipline Diana that way. I don’t suppose she needs it; she’s a very different sort of woman. But a father spanking his daughter? Before she’s reached the age of eighteen, even? There’s nothing wrong with that!”

“I’m not sure Diana would agree,” said Dad uncomfortably. “She probably thinks Robyn’s too old for a spanking.”

“Then it’s time you convinced her otherwise,” said GG. “After all, aren’t you the man of the house?”

“I am!” said Dad. “Perhaps you’re right…”

“Don’t you dare spank me!” I exclaimed, staring at Dad in horror. I did not like where this was going – not one bit.

“When was the last time you got spanked, Robyn?” asked GG mildly.

My fingers fidgeted anxiously. “I suppose I was about … seven? After that, Mum found better ways to punish me.” I put extra emphasis on the word ‘better’, to make my point clear.

“Ah,” said GG, “you mean like confiscating your phone? Heh heh. I must say, I’m a little surprised that a teenager these days would rather lose their phone for a week than endure a brief spanking. But perhaps pain thresholds aren’t what they used to be…”

This gave me pause. “I … I don’t know about that,” I said doubtfully. “A week without my phone is really harsh, though!”

“I can’t very well deprive you of your phone the whole time we’re in Egypt,” said Dad. “You’ll need it. But for the things you said about Grandad, I don’t think it would be too harsh a punishment. Perhaps it could be imposed after we get back. What do you think, Robyn? Would you rather lose your phone for a week, or get a spanking?”

“I…” I began, but GG did not let me finish.

“Don’t give her a choice, Melvin!” he said. “You’re in charge! You make the decision.”

Dad sighed. “If I choose spanking, though … I don’t know, Grandad, I’m just not sure I’m comfortable administering it.”

“Then allow me,” said GG, with a shrug. “I have no such qualms. Besides, I believe I am the wronged party? It would make sense for the spanking to come from me, in any case.”

“What…?” I gasped.

“I don’t know, Grandad,” said Dad doubtfully. “I don’t want you injuring yourself.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” said GG cheerfully. “I won’t be able to spank as hard as I used to, of course … but that doesn’t matter. At Robyn’s age, the humiliation aspect of a spanking is more important than the physical pain, which a teenager or grown woman can endure quite comfortably.”

“Very well,” said Dad, “let’s give this a try. Robyn … please lie down across Grandad’s lap.”

“No!” I said hotly. “I won’t do it!”

“Come on now, Robyn,” said Dad sternly. “Don’t make a fuss. The alternative is for you to…”

“There is no alternative!” GG interjected. “Stop giving her a choice, Melvin! You state how it’s going to be, and then you follow up, and do exactly what you said.”

“Of course,” said Melvin, nodding. “Robyn, get on Grandad’s lap. Do it now, and don’t make me ask you again.”

I stared from him to GG, and back again. Apparently I really did have no choice. If I refused again, some kind of hell would break loose, and I would only suffer more.

“If it helps, Robyn,” said GG, “it’s possible your future husband will need to spank you too. You can think of this as practice.” He smiled at me, and I suddenly remembered the discussion on Sunday afternoon, in which Lionel had suggested the very same thing: that Ethan might want to spank me, and that I could use the practice.

I had no idea whether Ethan was into spanking, of course. But the thought that I could view spanking as something other than punishment did help a bit. If I had to be spanked, I would rather think of it as helping me be a better girlfriend for Ethan, than as a punishment for a crime I was being falsely accused of.

With great reluctance, I approached GG’s bed. Then I put my knee on the bedspread, next to GG’s unseen thigh, and crawled forward, lying down upon his lap, with my bottom centrally positioned.

“Good!” said GG. “Now, the first thing is to lift the skirt out of the way, since it would otherwise dull the impact of the spanking.”

I felt cool air on my bottom, and whimpered.

“Good lord,” Dad muttered. “This doesn’t feel … I mean … I feel rather uncomfortable seeing this…”

“Well it’s your choice as to whether or not you want to watch, Melvin,” said GG. “But if you’re going to be doing this yourself, I think you should probably see how it’s done.”

“Spanking isn’t rocket science, Grandad,” said Dad, a little huffily. “I’m sure I’m not going to learn much that I don’t know already.”

“All right then,” said GG, “if you’re such an expert … what am I going to do next?”

There was a pause. Then Dad said, “Oh! I really hope you’re not planning on pulling her panties down…”

“No, I’m not,” said GG. “I do, however, need to expose her bottom … so what I’ll do is this…”

I gasped as I felt my panties being pulled between my buttocks. GG was giving me a wedgie! Right in front of Dad!

“Ugh!” Dad muttered. “Is that really necessary…?”

“And now, the spanking!” said GG. “Six on each buttock. Apply an age-appropriate level of force: for a child of six years old, with a delicate frame, you would obviously go quite gently. For a strong young woman such as Robyn here, you can spank a lot harder. Like this!”

My left buttock suddenly exploded in pain, and I yelped involuntarily. Then my right buttock followed suit, making me squeal. More spanks followed, but by now by whole bottom was hot and buzzing, and each new spank felt less intense than the last.

Then GG stopped, and I realised he had dealt out the full dozen spanks. “There!” he said cheerfully. “No need to incur resentment by withholding her phone for an extended period. This was quick, it’s over now, and her stinging buttocks will soon recover.”

“They’re very red!” said Dad, sounding troubled.

“The redness will quickly fade,” Grandad assured him. “Up you get, Robyn.”

My face was probably as red as my bottom as I climbed off the bed and reached behind me to tug my panties out from between my buttocks.

“You should thank him, Robyn,” said Dad. “He just saved you from losing your phone for a long period.”

“Thank you GG,” I muttered.

“Well, I still feel a little uncomfortable about the whole thing,” said Dad, “but perhaps I just need to get used to it. Next time Robyn steps out of line at home, I’ll try spanking her instead of taking her phone or laptop away.”

I glared at him, but he merely raised an eyebrow and stared back.

“Good idea,” said GG. “I think you’ll find it’s an effective deterrent.”

Dad nodded. “Well, I’d best be off. Pay attention, Robyn! Learn from Grandad. I’ll see you at six … and rest assured, I’ll be quizzing you on what you’ve learned!”

“Okay,” I said sullenly.

Dad left the room, and GG chuckled quietly.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, feeling aggrieved.

“I just did you a favour!” said GG. “Spankings are nothing for a girl of your age. Losing your phone is a big deal.”

“A spanking is a big deal!” I replied hotly. “I don’t want my dad spanking my bare bottom! That’s gross! And humiliating!”

“Yes…?” said GG. “But it lasts seconds. And you’ll still have your phone.”

He was right … but I was too upset with him to admit it. “I don’t right now, though!” I retorted. “And it’s your fault! You told him I was playing on my phone and not paying attention to your stories … which you never actually told me!”

“Ah yes,” he agreed, “that was unfortunate. I don’t think either of us was expecting him to grill you after your last visit. We’ll make up for that this time, of course. I’ll give you a bunch of easily memorised facts that you can regurgitate later. Don’t worry: your dad will have no doubt that you paid attention this time.”

“I hope so!” I grumbled. “I dread to think what the consequence will be next time if I fail today’s quiz.”

“You won’t have to find out,” he assured me.

“You know I had a date with Ethan this as afternoon?” I demanded. “He invited me to his house! But then Dad told me I couldn’t go, and had to come here instead!”

“Really?” said GG, astonished. “That’s excellent news! However did you pull that off?”

“I … I took your advice,” I admitted. “I wore a short skirt, then rolled up the waistband. It worked like a charm. For all the good it did!”

GG shook his head. “You think that if you’d gone to Ethan’s house this afternoon, and spent some time with him alone, you’d be his girlfriend by the end of the day?” he asked. “Nope. Not a chance. It’s the invitation itself that is your victory. You’re not ready for alone time with Ethan. He’d walk all over you, take your virginity, add another notch to his bedpost, and move on to the next girl. If you want him for yourself, Robyn, you’ve got to play the long game. You’ve made an excellent start, but frankly, you dodged a bullet by coming here instead of going to see him.”

I pursed my lips. “He’s nice,” I said obstinately. “He’s not the kind of boy who would just use a girl and then dump her like that.”

“And yet his head was so easily turned by your short skirt,” GG pointed out. “While he still has a girlfriend, no less. Unless they’re no longer together…?”

“Technically they are,” I conceded. “But not for long, he told me.”

“Of course he did,” said GG. “Robyn, I know you don’t want to believe it, but even the nicest teenaged boys are – to a certain extent – slaves to their libidos. You’re going to have to trust me on this: it would have been a disaster for you to go to Ethan’s house today. I can get you ready, and it won’t take all that long … but for now, it’s much better to keep him in suspense, and let his fantasies about you run wild. By this weekend, I guarantee, his desire for you will be ten times as intense as it is right now.”

“You think so?” I asked doubtfully.

“That’s how the male mind works,” said GG.

“If only I could capitalise on that,” I sighed. “He actually asked me to come over this weekend, at first. He only switched it to this afternoon when I told him I was going to Egypt tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” said GG, frowning. “I wonder why he didn’t suggest this afternoon first…”

“I think he had plans for this afternoon,” I said. “He was going to cancel them, just so he could spend time with me. But he’s got some get-together happening at his place this Saturday…”

“Ah,” said GG, nodding. “So in the original plan, the two of you wouldn’t have been alone. That’s actually a good sign.”

“It is?” I inquired.

“Yup,” he said. “It means he was planning on integrating you into his circle of friends. One doesn’t generally do that if one is planning a one-night stand.”

“See?” I said triumphantly. “I told you he wasn’t like that.”

“I wouldn’t celebrate too soon,” GG cautioned me. “Your unavailability this weekend apparently caused him to revert to a one-night stand plan, which suggests that his view of you is … fluid. You need to tread carefully.”

I nodded. For all his flaws, GG really seemed to know what he was talking about. “What should I do?” I asked him.

“We should continue your training,” he replied. “Pick up where we left off, last time you were here.”

“I’m not getting naked again!” I said quickly. “I’ve been having nightmares about my last visit here, GG!”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sympathetically. “Personally I felt you did extraordinarily well last time. Such a lot of progress in one afternoon! I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t have had the instinct or courage to entice Ethan the way you did, if not for your last visit here.”

“That … may be true,” I had to admit.

“So let’s not fret about whether you’re going to be naked or clothed, or kissing old men, or whatever it was that most bothered you about last time,” said GG. “We’ll just take this one step at a time, and although I can’t promise you that you’ll be staying safely within your comfort zone – the whole point of this exercise is to expand your comfort zone, after all – I will assure you that we’ll progress in gradual steps, each of which we’ll take only when you’re ready.”

“Okay…” I said, with an unhappy grimace. It did sound like he was planning to get me naked again. “Don’t forget about my history lesson, though! I’ll be in a ton of trouble if I haven’t memorised your stories by the time Dad picks me up!”

GG nodded. “Here’s what we’ll do,” he said. “I’ll come up with ten questions, covering various subjects I’d be likely to talk about. You can memorise the answers to those questions. Then when your dad picks you up, I’ll give him the list of questions and suggest he uses them for testing your knowledge.”

“What if he goes off script?” I asked nervously.

“He won’t,” said GG. “Not if I phrase it properly, so that he thinks you have no idea what the questions will be. Since he won’t know exactly what I’m covering and not covering, those questions will be his easiest tool for assessing your attentiveness.”

I nodded, satisfied. This sounded like a good plan. “Okay,” I said.

GG picked up his tablet. “While I’m writing up these questions,” he said, “please take off your bra and shoes.”

I groaned, then frowned. “Wait … my bra? So, keep my top on?”

“Yes indeed,” he replied. “No need to show your boobs just yet.”

I sighed. If I refused, he might refuse to write up his list of questions … and then I would be in deep trouble. So I waited until GG was absorbed in his tablet, then I reached up my back, inside my top, and unclasped my bra. With a tank top on, it was easy then to remove my bra. I put it on the chair in the corner, then slipped off my shoes and put them neatly together on the floor in front of the chair.

Already I was down three items of clothing. Only three more to go … but at least everything important was still covered. I waited patiently while GG finished writing up his questions.

Eventually he smiled. “All done!” he said. “But I’m not going to hit you with them all at once. We’ll do two at a time, spaced apart fairly evenly throughout the afternoon. I … I decided not to come up with straightforward history questions – it struck me that you could learn history from anyone. And I’m sure your dad will understand if we change the topic a bit this time.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What topic are we covering, then?”

“Family history!” said GG. “Well, my own history, really. Hopefully you’ll find it interesting. First question: what did my father bring home from the war, which he hung on the wall of our living room?” He paused, for dramatic effect I suppose. “A blade from the propeller of a Supermarine Spitfire.”

“Oh!” I said. “He was a pilot?”

“No,” said GG, “he was an aircraft mechanic. That may not sound very glamorous, but he and his crew were responsible for keeping those birds in tip-top flying condition, and getting them back in the air as quickly as possible after they got damaged. The mechanics were the unsung heroes of the Battle of Britain, working around the clock and against huge odds in order to get one more plane combat-ready, then one more after that, then another. Sometimes they had to cobble together an entire plane from bits of other planes that were themselves beyond repair.”

“Cool!” I said, thinking that I would remember at least enough of this background information to impress Dad.

“Second question,” GG continued. “What was the name of the sweet shop owned by the father of my first girlfriend, Rita?” Another pause. “Gladwell’s Sweets.”

“Gladwell’s Sweets,” I repeated. “Gladwell’s Sweets. And your first girlfriend was called Rita. Rita Gladwell?”

“No, Rita Manson,” said GG. “Her father was not the original owner of the shop.”

“Rita Manson,” I said. “A propeller blade from a Spitfire hung on your living room wall, and … wasn’t it really big…?”

“About five feet long,” said GG. “Mum thought it was an eyesore, but Dad was very proud of it.”

“And your first girlfriend was Rita Manson, whose dad owned Gladwell’s Sweets,” I said. “All right, I think I’ve got all that.”

“Good!” said GG. “Now take off that skirt, and go to the common room and say hello to all your new friends there. I’ll follow along shortly, once I’ve put your clothes in a safe place.”

“Why do I have to take my skirt off?” I demanded. “I’m here to learn, GG!”

“Quite!” GG replied. “And an essential requirement of learning is that you pay attention. Remember me saying that you weren’t ready to be alone with Ethan? And that we were going to pick up your training where we left off last time?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Whew! So you were paying attention. Good!” said GG. “Now, I’m not going to have you march out there naked right away – we eased you into that gently last time, and we’ll do so again today – but by now you should at least be able to mingle with the old folks here in a top and panties. That’s doable, isn’t it? If not, then I fear we’re going to make little progress. I know you can do it, because you did it before. Refusing at this point would be tantamount to admitting defeat, and giving up on the idea of trying to get Ethan to see you as long-term girlfriend material.”

I was not entirely convinced of this, but I was even less convinced of my current ability to impress Ethan on a first date. I needed GG’s help in order to pass the history quiz I would have to take later, and given the success of his advice so far, it seemed likely that my great-grandfather could indeed help me win Ethan’s heart.

I sighed. “All right,” I said, taking off my skirt. “I suppose I’ll see you in the common room, then.”

“That’s a good girl,” said GG, smiling. He took my skirt. “Off you go.”

Now wearing just my tank top and panties, I nervously left his room, and trotted on tiptoe to the open doorway of the common room. Upon entering, I immediately spotted several familiar faces: there was Freddie, and Lionel, and Willie, and Maggie, and Ollie, and Helena…

Freddie was the first to spot me. “Robyn!” he exclaimed in delight. “You’re back!”

This was followed by numerous cheerful exclamations of ‘Hello Robyn’ and ‘Lovely to see you’, and I could not help smiling as I walked toward the chairs in which Freddie and Lionel were sitting. It was nice to be enthusiastically welcomed by an entire roomful of people, all apparently happy to see me, even if I was rather dreading how this would play out.

“How’s it going with that boy you’re interested in?” Freddie asked.

“Pretty well!” I said. “I was actually supposed to be going to his house this afternoon, but my dad said I had to come here instead.”

“Oh, bad luck,” said Freddie sympathetically. “You must be gutted!”

“Yeah,” I said ruefully. “GG thinks it’s a good thing though; he said I’m not ready.”

“Bernie doesn’t know everything,” said Freddie. “I think you’d charm his socks off. How could any boy look at you and not want you as his girlfriend?”

I smiled. “Thank you!” I said. “I certainly hope you’re right.”

“His loss is our gain, though,” said Lionel, with a dirty chuckle. “We’ll make sure your needs are met, Robyn … won’t we Freddie?”

“We’ll do our best!” Freddie agreed.

Ollie was approaching us. “Hello again Robyn,” he said. “I’m glad you’re wearing a little more than last time, at least. I hear your last visit got a little out of hand! I wish I had stuck around; I could perhaps have spared you some of the indignities…”

“Leave it out, Ollie,” Lionel grumbled. “It was all consensual.”

“Was it, Robyn?” Ollie asked me.

I hesitated, then nodded. “Well yeah … I mean … I do think I was feeling some pressure … but nobody forced me…”

“Hmm,” said Ollie, frowning. “I think I should stay here and keep an eye on things. I don’t want you feeling pressured to do anything else like that.”

“Thanks Ollie,” I said gratefully. It was nice to feel like someone was looking out for me. “How are you today?”

“Oh, you know, mustn’t grumble,” he said with a smile.

I looked around. “Is Wally not here?”

“He’s in his room,” said Freddie. “With visitors, I think, unless they’ve left already. His daughter and son-in-law – they come and see him a couple of times a week.”

“Wow, that’s nice,” I said. “I don’t think GG’s children – my grandma and great-uncle – visit him all that much. Then again, they do live quite far away…”

“Speak of the devil,” said Ollie.

GG had entered the room and was approaching us with a grin on his face. “All right lads?” he said. “Helping Robyn feel at ease, I see.”

“Doing our best!” said Freddie.

“Considering how undressed I am,” I remarked, “I’m quite surprised at how at ease I’m feeling!” The fact that my panties were exposed should, I felt, have horrified me more than it was doing … and I knew I had GG to thank for that. Whether or not this was a good thing was, however, debatable.

“Excellent!” said GG, pleased. “Have you told everyone about your success with Ethan?”

“Not exactly,” I said.

“She have the lad a bit of a show,” said GG. “Next thing she knows, he’s inviting her over to his place!”

“Yes, and she should be there now, apparently,” Ollie remarked. “Instead she’s stuck with us old duffers.”

“And a good thing too!” said GG. “If she were there now, he’d be charming her out of her clothes in no time, then having sex with her … and she’d be absolutely smitten and imagining a long courtship followed by a white wedding … while he’d be trying to decide how best to let her down gently.”

“That’s very cynical!” said Ollie, frowning.

“It’s realistic,” GG replied, and I had a feeling he was right. His scenario sounded depressingly plausible.

“But there’s no reason why, with a little guidance, Robyn can’t fully ensnare the boy,” GG went on. “Capture his heart and his mind. Drive him wild with desire; ensure that she dominates his thoughts between one encounter and the next. Obviously she can’t make him fall in love with her; that’s down to their mutual chemistry and compatibility. What she can do is stretch it out long enough to give herself the best possible chance.”

“Bernie, what do you know about young people these days?” Ollie scoffed. “It’s a different world out there! A world of texting and YouTube and Facebook and god knows whatever else. It’s a world you and I will never understand.”

“I understand people,” GG countered. “Technology might change, but people don’t. Hormones still work the same way as when you and I were teenagers, Ollie. Sex works the same way. Love works the same way. Lust works the same way. Relationships aren’t that hard to figure out; there’s a formula to ‘em.”

“If you’re such an expert,” said Ollie wryly, “why did you never remarry?”

GG shrugged. “I never considered remarrying,” he said. “Losing Paula wrecked me, for years. I … I just … couldn’t…”

To my astonishment, I saw tears welling up in GG’s eyes. Seeing him get so emotional was surprising, and heartbreaking. “I’m so sorry, Bernie,” said Ollie, looking abashed. “I didn’t mean to be flippant.”

“It’s okay,” said GG. “I had my happy marriage, with the girl of my dreams. Forty-eight years of it! I wouldn’t trade it for anything. And if I can help Robyn get her man, that’ll be a satisfying way tor me to pass on my good fortune and happiness to a new generation.”

Ollie nodded. “That’s a laudable goal,” he said. “But your methods…” He gestured toward me, frowning a little as he glanced at my panties. “They seem designed to provide cheap thrills to you and your friends…”

“Ollie, she’s my great-granddaughter!” said GG, sounding shocked. “What are you suggesting?”

I suppressed a smirk. GG’s outrage was a sham, I knew; he had been just as excited as any of his friends to get a lap dance from me. I had felt it only too well through his trousers.

“All right,” said Ollie, holding up his hands. “Your friends, then. I hear she gave them lap dances! Who does that benefit more? Her? Or them?”

“There’s certainly a benefit on both sides,” GG conceded. “But if the ultimate benefit to Robyn is getting a boyfriend – possibly even a husband, in the long run – and the result for these old farts is a massive case of blue balls … then I’d suggest Robyn is coming out on top.”

“That’s a big if!” said Ollie. “I’m just not happy about this. I think Robyn’s too young and too impressionable to be goaded into a relationship with someone who is likely to just use her and dump her. And these methods you’re employing … having her expose her body in a public place, so that dirty old men can ogle her and grope her while she gives them lap dances … it’s not right!”

“Your objection is noted,” said GG, nodding. “It’s certainly a grey area. But ultimately it’s surely Robyn’s choice? It’s her life, and this is all about getting her what she wants. And what she wants is for Ethan to become her boyfriend. I aim to help her with that, to the best of my ability.”

“Do you want that help?” Ollie inquired, looking gravely at me. “Is it worth the cost? Is it worth being an object of sexual gratification for old men…?”

“Steady on, Ollie!” GG objected.

I nodded. I felt as if GG had really helped me, so far, and was moreover capable of helping me with the next few steps in the process of winning Ethan’s heart. “The method isn’t ideal,” I admitted, “but the end goal is something I really want … so I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Ollie sighed. “I’m not sure that’s a good or healthy position to take,” he said, “but I suppose it’s your life and your decision.”

“Ah, Sheila!” said GG, looking over at the doorway, where the red-haired nurse had just walked in. “How lovely to see you!”

Sheila stared at me as she approached. “You’re back,” she remarked. “Wearing a little more than last time, thank goodness.”

I blushed, and said nothing.

“Not for long!” said GG, chuckling.

“Oh no,” said Sheila, shaking her head. “Not today, Bernie. We have a minibus full of schoolchildren on its way. Class project or something – I don’t know the details. But they’ll be in here, interviewing our residents, and I’ll thank you to keep this little strumpet out of sight while they’re here.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed indignantly. “I’m not a strumpet, thank you very much!”

“Of course not,” said Sheila with a sarcastically sweet smile. “Giving naked lap dances to old men is something a good girl like you would never even conceive of doing.”

“I … I wasn’t fully naked!” I protested. “Not while I was doing the lap dances anyway.” But even as I said this, I was aware of how feeble a counterargument it sounded.

“Just keep her out of here for the next couple of hours,” said Sheila to GG, ignoring me.

“Will do,” said GG. “But, um … can we use the conference room? Lionel and Freddie and I have a little project going with Robyn, you see, and…”

Sheila held up a hand. “I don’t want to know,” she said. “If you want to take her upstairs, fine! The more out of the way she is, the better. If Alec discovers you up there and makes a fuss, tell him I said you could use it for a meeting, but don’t tell him I knew Robyn was with you! I’ll deny all knowledge if you do.”

“Of course!” said GG happily. “Thanks Sheila, you’re a saint. All right Robyn, Lionel, Freddie … let’s get to the lift.”

As Sheila headed over to the sofa to talk to Catty and Willie, Lionel and Freddie slowly but creakily got out of their chairs. There now began a laborious and painfully slow procession. GG, the youngest and spryest of the three men, took Lionel’s arm so that he could support and guide his nearly-blind friend.

“I can walk,” Lionel grumbled.

“Yes, but in which direction?” GG asked pointedly. “Grumpy old codger. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“Am I not invited?” Ollie inquired. “I feel I ought to come, if only to make sure you don’t take advantage of Robyn.”

“Take advantage?” said GG indignantly. “No, Ollie, you’re not invited. You’ll only interfere. I know you mean well, but helping Robyn means taking her out of her comfort zone … and you’ll likely object to anything that makes her uncomfortable.”

In truth, I really would have liked Ollie to come along, for support and to be a moderating voice of reason if things got as crazy as last time. But GG was probably right; his presence would probably be counterproductive. I smiled at him. “Thanks Ollie,” I said. “But I’ll be okay. GG’s methods might be a little extreme, but he really has helped me. I’ll be fine.”

Ollie sighed. “If you say so,” he said.

Freddie, moving slowly with his cane, was already halfway to the door as we started after him. It was a painfully slow procession; I could have walked to the lift and back five times by the time GG and Lionel arrived there.

“Oh, hello!”

I turned to look down the corridor. A familiar face was looking back at me. “Wally!” I said.

“Thought you had visitors!” said GG.

“They just left,” said Wally. “Nice to see you back again, Robyn!”

“Nice to see you too!” I replied.

“Want to join us, Wally?” Freddie asked. “We’re all going upstairs to the conference room.”

“Oh, I couldn’t manage stairs,” said Wally, shaking his head.

“We’re taking the lift, you daft git!” said Lionel.

“Oh! Right,” said Wally. “In that case, sure!” He stepped out into the corridor, and began hobbling towards us.

“Actually,” said GG, “you lot go on. I need to grab something from my room. Oh … and Robyn?”

“Yes?” I said.

“Let’s have that top of yours,” said GG, grinning. “It’ll just be the five of us, and we’ve all seen you in less.” He held out his hand.

My stomach cramped. “We’re going to a different floor,” I said uneasily. “What if we run into this Alec person?”

GG shrugged. “Unlikely,” he said, “but honestly, he could have shown up in the common room at any time, last time you were here, and he might come into the conference room. There’s no point worrying about it. If he sees you topless and makes a fuss, we’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it. I’ll make sure you don’t get into any trouble, Robyn. Any negative consequences, I’ll take on myself.”

I sighed. I had expected this, and he was right: I had done it before. At least this time my audience was smaller, and all those present seemed to really love my breasts. Biting my lip, I took hold of my tank top, and pulled it up over my head. In doing so, I automatically closed my eyes; when I opened them again, I saw that all four men were staring at my chest with happy smiles.

“Such beauties!” said Freddie in an almost reverent tone.

“Thank you,” I said awkwardly, as I handed GG my top.

“You go on ahead,” said GG. “I’ll see you in the conference room.”

Wally, Lionel, Freddie and I all stepped into the elevator, and I pressed the button for the first floor. The doors closed, and up we went. I shivered. Once again I was dressed in nothing but my panties, and surrounded by old men. I felt light-headed; this was such a surreal experience. Just a few minutes ago, I had felt determined that today would be different; that I would keep my clothes on this time. And now look at me.

The doors opened, and I stepped out, looking around nervously. “See?” said Freddie, leaning on his cane as he peered around. “Nobody’s about. Conference room’s that way.”

I trotted over to the solid wooden door that he had indicated, and cautiously opened it. Inside was an empty conference room, with a long table surrounded by eight wheel-footed swivel chairs. “What’s this room used for normally?” I asked, as I walked in. “What does a care home need a conference room for?”

“Staff meetings,” said Freddie, entering the room. “Presentations. VIP visits. Any events that need to be held out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the daily goings-on downstairs. All the residents’ rooms are downstairs; this floor is strictly for admin, management, and medical stuff. Alec’s office is down the hallway, but he’s rarely in there. He’s probably out and about. We’re more likely to see Hassan, our work-shy Moroccan janitor.”

“Moroccan?” I asked, suddenly nervous at the thought of a big black man happening upon me while I was naked and vulnerable.

“You’ve got something against people from Morocco?” Freddie inquired.

“No!” I replied hastily. “It’s just … Morocco is in Africa, and African men can be a little … intimidating…”

Wally and Lionel had reached the doorway. Wally chuckled. “You’re not a racist are you, Robyn?” he asked.

“No!” I exclaimed. “I just … well, I don’t know that many, to be honest. I just … I’m almost naked! Anyone would be nervous! Is he … big…?”

Lionel cackled. “She wants to know if ‘e has a big knob!”

“No! No!” I protested. “I just meant … his height! And … you know … his build…”

I was starting to feel like perhaps I was slightly racist. I had formed a stereotype in my head – a big hulking black man, like a boxer or a football player. But rationally I knew that black men came in all shapes and sizes, just like white men. I hung my head. “I’m sorry – I’m just being silly.”

“There’s nothing intimidating about Hassan,” Wally assured me. “He’s a little weasel of a man.”

“Racist,” Freddie said playfully.

“Oh, give over,” said Wally. “Unlike you, I’ve actually been to Morocco! And met some really lovely people there – people who were nothing like Hassan. I’m judging the lad on his own merits. And I say he’s a little weasel.”

“He is,” Freddie agreed. “But he’s not likely to disturb us in here, in any case. He doesn’t clean anywhere he doesn’t have to.”

The three men found themselves chairs, all on the near side of the table. I helped Freddie into his, since the chair had a tendency to rotate when he leaned his weight on one of its arms. Wally and Lionel, fortunately, managed to seat themselves without incident.

“I get the impression these chairs weren’t designed for the elderly!” I remarked. “Are you sure we’re supposed to be in here?”

“Sheila lets us use this room for special occasions,” said Freddie. “It doesn’t get a lot of use otherwise.”

I sat down, and chatted with the three old men for the next couple of minutes. They glanced at my breasts from time to time, but I soon found myself, as before, feeling surprisingly at ease in their presence, despite my lack of clothing.

Eventually GG walked in, closing the door behind him. In one hand he was holding his tablet; in the other he held a plastic bottle. He grinned at me and his friends. “Ready for some fun?” he asked.

I did not like the way he said that. “Whose fun?” I inquired warily.

“Hopefully yours!” he replied. “But for you, the chief objective here is education. For the lads and me, well, does it come as a shock that it’s fun for us?”

It really did not; I had felt all of their erections. “I suppose not,” I reluctantly admitted. His Frank admission that I was here for the pleasure of him and his friends had unnerved me somewhat.

“Okay,” said GG, his expression turning serious as he made his way toward me. “Up you get; I’ll need that chair please. And you won’t need one.”

I got up, and he sat down carefully, putting his tablet and bottle on the table. “Now,” he said, “phase one is complete. You’ve got Ethan’s attention and interest. Very well done. I did what I could to help you with that, but ultimately the execution of the plan was entirely down to you, and you pulled it off with aplomb. Phase two is going to be trickier, but again, we can help.”

“Okay…” I said.

“The first time you go to Ethan’s house,” GG continued, “he’s going to have sex with you. Guaranteed. Right now that’s what he wants, and that’s what you want as well. He’s not even going to have to try hard to seduce you. You want him badly; he knows it. If you put up a token resistance, he’ll charm his way around it. He’ll shower you with compliments, kiss you tenderly, slowly get you out of your clothes, and make love to you like you’re the most special person on Earth.”

“Ohhh!” I gasped, my cheeks flushing. This sounded wonderful.

“On no account can you let that happen,” said GG sternly. “And it’s going to take all the resolve you have, along with some devious tactics that I’ll teach you now, to prevent it.”

“But … why not?” I asked plaintively.

“Do you want him as a long-term boyfriend, or not?” asked GG politely. “You’ve got to see past the first date, Robyn. He may well be as nice a lad as you think, but he’s in a league above you right now, and he’ll know it. If you’re a pushover, he’ll enjoy having fun with you … but I promise you, it won’t last. You have to drag it out, as I mentioned before.”

I bit my lip, and nodded. “Um … how…?”

“Simple,” said GG. “You make him cum.”

“Oh!” I said, blushing harder.

“Okay, that’s easy to say,” GG acknowledged. “But not so easy to do, if he’s hell-bent on sticking his knob into your sweet vagina. You’ve basically got two weapons at your disposal: the hand-job, and the blowjob. Make him cum with either, and you’re off the hook for sex … for the moment. But he’ll be back for more later, because you’ll have deprived him of what he really wants, and that’ll make him want it even more.”

I gulped. “I … I’ve never done either,” I said.

“Not even with Kevin?” asked GG in surprise. “I know you were underage, but…”

I shook my head. “We sort of … skipped that part,” I said. “He wanted to get straight to the … the sex. But I was afraid. I told him I wasn’t ready. And … and things didn’t go very well after that.”

GG nodded. “Well don’t worry – you can practise on us,” he said. “By the time you get some alone time with Ethan, you’ll practically be an expert!”

My jaw dropped. “I … what??” I gasped. “I’m not going to practise on … on any of you!”

Even Wally and Freddie were staring in shock at GG. “Bernie, I really think…” Wally began.

“What?” GG asked. “If the first cock she sucks is Ethan’s, she’s bound to muff it. And then, goodbye any chance at a long-term relationship! Robyn, if this were any old boy … someone in your league … you could experiment with him, get used to it with him, practise, improve … and he’d be happy to be patient with you throughout the process. But this is Ethan we’re talking about. If he doesn’t get a good blowjob from you, there are plenty of other girls he can get one from. Your first hand-job, your first blowjob … you’re going to have to knock his socks off. And who else are you going to practise on? One of your school friends?”

“I … I … I don’t know…” I stammered.

“That would be a bad idea,” said GG gravely. “Either they’ll boast about it to one of their friends … and the news will inevitably spread from there … or they’ll fall hard for you, and you won’t be able to get rid of them. They’re bound to mess up your plans with Ethan either way. Face it, Robyn: we’re your safest option. And this conference room is as secure and safe a location for such practice as you’re likely to find.”

I was horrified. Mainly because he was actually making a lot of sense, and I could not simply laugh off his suggestion or reject it out of hand. But the idea of putting one of these elderly gentlemen’s penises in my mouth … ugh!!!

“We can start with hand-jobs,” said GG casually, as if it was all decided already. He picked up the bottle. “The secret to a good hand-job is lubrication. Slather Ethan’s cock in this stuff, and it will go much better, I assure you. Your hand will slide smoothly up and down his shaft, and your palm and fingers will become covered in lube and feel more like the inside of a vagina.”

I shuddered. “How … how much…?”

“Just a small dollop goes quite a long way,” said GG, “but we’ll work out the perfect amount. Freddie, you want to go first? You’ll need to get out the old one-eyed trouser snake.”

Freddie hesitated, and glanced at me. I gave him no encouragement, but he nonetheless unzipped his trousers with trembling hands, reached inside, and pulled out a small and floppy sausage of wrinkly, pinkish-grey flesh. I stared at it in disgust for a moment, then quickly averted my eyes.

GG chuckled. “It seems not even the prospect of getting a hand-job from a pretty teenager is enough to give Freddie a stiffy,” he remarked.

“Leave it out!” Freddie grumbled. “It’s been a long time since anyone but me has touched it. Can you blame me for having a bit of performance anxiety?”

“Well that won’t do,” said GG. “Fortunately, we know of an excellent way to restore you to good standing. Robyn, you did it before. How about you give him a nice little lap dance?”

I pouted. “I thought I was done with those!”

“For good?” said GG. “No, of course not. On Sunday I said you were done for that afternoon; not forever.”

“I don’t have any music,” I pointed out. “I can’t possibly dance without music. It’ll feel weird and wrong.”

GG pursed his lips. “Should we return to the common room?” he ventured.

“No!” I said firmly. “I’m absolutely not doing any hand-jobs in the common room!” In saying this, I realised with a sickening feeling that I had resigned myself to giving Freddie a hand-job. And after Freddie, no doubt Lionel and Wally as well. Maybe even GG. The thought of this made me queasy. But perhaps, if I did well with the hand-jobs, I could get away without having to do any blowjobs…

“What about that computer thing of yours, Bernie?” Wally inquired. “You got any music on there?”

“No,” said GG sadly. “Just photos and videos, and a chat program, and a few amusing games.”

Though it was hardly in my interest, I could not bring myself to let this nonsense slide. “You have wifi on there, right?” I asked him.

GG nodded. “You think I can tap into a radio station or something?”

“Well, sure,” I said. “But you’ve also got access to YouTube!”

“Oh!” he said. “Yes! Of course! I do have YouTube!” He picked up his tablet, and swiped and tapped until he had loaded up the YouTube app. “What am I looking for?”

“Anything danceable,” I said. “Not from the sixties!”

“How about something by that Kylie Minogue?” Lionel suggested. “She’s a tasty little thing.”

“Who?” I asked.

“You don’t know Kylie?” asked Wally in surprise.

“She’s in her fifties now, Wally!” said GG. “She’s probably closer to your age than to Robyn’s!”

“Ugh, that makes me feel old,” Wally grumbled.

“You ARE old!” Lionel cackled.

“She does sing good dance songs, though,” said GG. “Why don’t you give her a try?”

“I suppose I could,” I said reluctantly.

“Here,” said GG, handing me the tablet. “You can probably find something faster than I can.”

He had already loaded up the YouTube app. I typed Kylie into the search field, and the auto suggest feature came up with “Kylie Can’t Get You Outta My Head” so I tapped on it, and turned the volume all the way up.

And then I began to dance. It was a good song to dance to, and I soon got into the rhythm of it, swaying and bouncing and twerking as I slipped back into the mode I had discovered on Sunday afternoon. And as Wally and Lionel and Freddie and GG cheered and clapped, I marvelled internally – as I had then – that despite my long-held view of my own dancing skills as moderate, at best, I seemed to be genuinely good at this. Maybe it was just that these old men had low standards when it came to sexy dancing … but on the other hand, maybe the fact that I had nothing to prove to them was giving me confidence to shed my inhibitions, and throw myself into it in a way I would struggle to do, if I were dancing for a boy whose opinion really mattered to me.

If the latter were true, then this was indeed good practice for me, and in any case I had little to lose by giving it my all. So I shook my bottom at Freddie, I cupped my breasts and sensuously massaged them in front of his face, and then, heady with success, I sat down on his lap and ground my panty-clad pussy against his hardening cock.

It was only then that the outrageous reality of what I was doing hit me. Freddie’s cock was naked! Only the thin fabric of my panties was separating it from my pussy. But as he excitedly put his arms around me, grabbing and kneading my breasts, I had no easy or face-saving way of removing myself from the situation. And so, psychological inertia kept me going, kept me rubbing my pussy back and forth on his growing erection, as he pulled me against his torso and started kissing my neck.

Then it occurred to me that my mission was accomplished, and I did in fact have an excuse for extricating myself. “Okay!” I said lightly, leaning forward, away from him. “Seems like you’re hard now.”

“Oh!” he said, lifting his head away from my neck. He seemed a little disappointed. He looked down at his cock as I climbed off his lap. “Looks like you’re right.”

GG was dragging another chair around from the other side of the table. “On reflection I think you do need a chair of your own, Robyn,” he said, rolling it over next to Freddie’s. “Sit there, and you’ll be in a good position to wank Freddie off.”

I sat down, and he handed me his plastic bottle. “Squirt some of this in your hand,” he said, “and rub it all over his willy.”

I stared at the bottle – it was called Lubrigel – then at Freddie’s ghastly erection, which was rapidly wilting. I had to act quickly, or I would have to give him another lap dance. Steeling myself, I squirted a generous quantity of pale pink gelatinous goo into the palm of my right hand, then I reached across and took hold of Freddie’s cock. The immensity of the moment did not escape me: this was the first penis I had ever touched, and I felt a little sad that it was not Ethan’s. It was warm, and slightly soft by this point, but I began massaging it, rubbing the lube all over it. But it almost immediately became apparent that I had used far too much; GG had not been exaggerating when he said a little went a long way.

“Ugh, what IS this stuff?” I asked, grimacing at the feeling of the slimy gel rapidly coating the whole of my hand and Freddie’s penis. It was also soaking into the bushy white tangle of pubic hair surrounding the base of his cock.

“Lubrigel!” said GG cheerfully. “Amazing stuff. Stays slippery for hours. Looks like you used way too much there, but never mind.”

Freddie’s cock was re-erecting, but it was now so slippery that it kept popping out of my hand as I massaged it. There was almost no friction; Lubrigel truly was remarkable stuff, and I would have been quite intrigued by it under other circumstances. Now, however, I was just trying to do my best to settle into a good wanking rhythm, using small movements to maintain control of the slimy, bulbous-headed tube of flesh.

“Ohhh yesss…” Freddie gasped, now fully rigid. Clearly I was doing some right.

“Very good!” said GG. “Your technique isn’t perfect, but the gel is fortunately very forgiving. Remember the head is the part most sensitive to pleasure, but it’s also the part most sensitive to pain. Dragging your knuckles over the rim like that will likely hurt if you’re not using a large amount of lube.”

GG continued to coach me, as Freddie’s arousal grew and grew. “I’m close!” he announced.

“Pause!” GG instructed me sharply. I froze. “When he climaxes,” GG continued, “where’s his spunk going to go?”

“I, um,” I said, nonplussed. “On the floor?”

“Right,” GG agreed. “At least, it would if you were wanking Ethan right now instead of Freddie. With Freddie it’ll likely just dribble all over his thighs. But the thing you have to remember is that when a chap cums, his excitement plummets to zero almost instantaneously. Within seconds, practical considerations that he’d given no thought to a moment ago become suddenly important again. Before he cums, all that matters is cumming. Afterwards, his mind could be on any of a hundred topics. And if there’s cum splattered over his floor, he’s going to be moaning about the clean-up. The fact that you’re still high on arousal and passion isn’t going to matter; he’ll be grumbling at you that the floor’s a mess, and stomping off to find tissues.”

“Nice,” I said, feeling rather indignant on behalf of my entire sex.

“Blame the hormones!” said GG. “The point is, it matters where the spunk ends up. And you can keep his focus on you and on your shared experience, if you make a good choice at this point.”

“Okay…?” I said.

“The Number One most exciting place for a man to deposit his sperm is in your vagina,” said GG. “But since I’m assuming neither you nor Ethan want a baby just yet, and in any case it’s vital for your relationship that you don’t have sex yet … the next best place is in your mouth. After that, elsewhere on your body. On your face, on your boobs, on your belly if you’re lying down … even on your pussy is a good option, since it feels risky and naughty even though the risk is low – particularly if you clean up right away. But the important thing is to have him cum somewhere on you. It’s easily wiped off, and it doesn’t make a mess of the bed or the floor or clothing or whatever. If you let him cum in your mouth, swallow it! It won’t do you any harm, and it’s a very sexy thing to see.”

I nodded. There were lots of options there – some more appealing than others.

“Right now, with Freddie,” said GG, “why don’t you kneel down in front of him, and have him cum on your boobs? It likely won’t reach that far, but that’s not important. If he were Ethan, he’d be decorating your chest like nobody’s business.”

I shuddered, but nodded, hoping he was right about Freddie’s sperm just dribbling out. I got off my chair, knelt down in front of Freddie, and then took hold of his cock again. It was already getting softer, so I resumed wanking it.

“Ohh…” he moaned, spreading his thighs apart and sliding his bottom forward. “Yes … keep going… Come closer…”

His cock was now less than a foot from my chest, and as I reluctantly walked my knees forward, until my breasts were between his spread thighs, the distance shrank to a couple of inches. Even if he dribbled, I might get some of it on me.”

“When he climaxes,” GG said, “don’t stop pumping his cock! Stopping as soon as you see the first spurt is almost as bad as stopping just before. You have to see it through; get every drop out. And as he gets close to his climax, speed up the rhythm!”

Freddie was obviously very close, so I quickened the pace of my hand movements. His mouth opened, and a trickle of saliva ran down his chin. “Ahh … ahhh … ahhhh!!” he gasped. “OHHHHHH!!!!!”

Ropes of white goopy fluid erupted from the head of his cock, firing directly at my chest. “Ugh!” I exclaimed, as the semen splashed over my left breast, then on to my chest between my breasts. But with GG’s instructions still fresh in my mind, I soldiered on with my hand pumping furiously, as more and more fluid splattered over both of my breasts, upper chest, and even as high as my neck.

“Goodness, Freddie, looks like you had a lot of pent-up sperm there!” Wally remarked in astonishment. “I’d never have guessed you had it in you. It’s like watching a porno film!”

“Yes!” agreed GG, obviously impressed. “I fear you may find the rest of us rather disappointing by comparison, Robyn.”

“What a mess!” I lamented, looking down at my breasts, festooned with globs and splashes of translucent white goo. The smell of it filled my nostrils and made me feel queasy.

“Well don’t clean it up just yet,” said GG cheerfully. “It’s Wally’s turn next, and I’m sure he’ll be adding to it.”

“Oh!” said Wally with a happy smile. He struggled to get up from his chair, then began fumbling with his belt buckle.

My brain was ablaze with multiple trains of thought, some of them conflicting. I was horrified and disgusted by the semen on my chest. I was shocked and bemused by the fact that I had just given an old man a hand-job. I was thoroughly grossed out by the memory of touching his wrinkly old penis, and by the slimy, slippery lubricant coating my right hand. I was strangely pleased with myself for having successfully wanked Freddie to a climax. I was dreading doing the same for Wally, yet also curious about whether it would go the same way. I was feeling very naked, yet protected by my panties, and anxious about whether I would soon be losing those…

These thoughts kept my mind busy as Wally undid his belt, opened up his trousers, and then pulled them down along with his underwear. His elderly penis, flapping low but clearly somewhat aroused, was as pale and wrinkled as Freddie’s, though a little longer and thicker. As he carefully sat back down in his chair, I got up and wheeled my chair over to him, feeling strange and awkward. Since my hand was already slick with lubricant, I reached over and wordlessly grasped his cock, sliding my hand up and down his shaft until it was slippery and glistening.

“Any chance of a lap dance first…?” he asked hopefully.

“You’re already hard,” I muttered.

“Oh, give him a lap dance, Robyn!” said GG. “Freddie got one, after all. And as I recall, you enjoy them too! It’s only fair that you should get some pleasure of your own out of this exercise.”

“Yeah, but,” I said nervously, “he’s … naked…”

“Only from the waist down!” said GG with a smile. “And you’ve still got your panties on – though, honestly, it might feel even better without them…”

“I’ll keep them on, thanks!” I said quickly.

“Suit yourself,” said GG. “I’m guessing you’re worried about his knob accidentally slipping inside you, or something – would that be accurate?”

“It had crossed my mind,” I admitted.

“Your concern is understandable,” acknowledged GG, “but unnecessary, and I’ll explain why, shortly. But for this one, sure, keep your panties on.”

“The song stopped,” I said.

“Then start another one!” said GG. “Maybe you can find a whole album of songs you can dance to.”

I walked over to pick up the tablet, and tapped in the search field again. Then I hesitated. I had been about to type in ‘Cardi B playlist’ or ‘Nicki Minaj playlist’, but then I remembered some of the lyrics to which I would be exposing these old men. Even ‘twerking playlist’ would likely generate results containing an awful lot of colourful language. In desperation, I typed in ‘Kylie playlist’, and opened the first result. It was a collection of 37 songs, starting with ‘Better the Devil You Know’. I set it going, and waited.

“What on Earth is this?” Lionel inquired.

“It’s an ad,” I said. “Just need to wait five seconds…”

Then the song started playing, and I began to dance. Wally beckoned to me excitedly, gesturing to me to climb on to his lap.

“Remember this is good practice for Ethan, too!” said GG. “Climb on, facing Wally, and give him a good snog! Just like last time. Practice makes perfect!”

Reluctantly I raised my right foot and set it on Wally’s left leg. I could see a problem with GG’s suggestion … and not just because I was not keen on tree idea of snogging old men again. The arms of these conference room chairs were slender and had gaps beneath, but they were also quite narrow, so there was no way I was going to be able to slip my whole leg through – at least not while Wally was sitting in the chair. I would have to hook my legs over the arms, which meant my full weight would be borne by my bottom, pressing down on Wally’s thighs. I hoped he would be able to take the weight comfortably.

Climbing on was not easy; I had to slide my right leg over the arm of the chair, then sit down on Wally’s lap at an angle, then lift my left leg up and over the other arm. When this was accomplished, I put my arms around Wally’s neck, just as he pulled me into a kiss.

Our tongues met, and we snogged. Having learned from Sunday’s experience, I set aside my disgust at the situation, and threw myself into it, kissing him with enthusiasm and all the technical mastery I could muster, while pressing my panty-covered pussy against his slippery erection and rubbing it around sensuously.

Though I would not have wished it were so, the effect on my own state of arousal was swift and significant. Rubbing against a man’s bulging trousers had undeniable merits, but rubbing against a warm, naked, thick, firm, lubricated penis was far more effective. Though it shamed me to realise it, I was even relishing Wally’s hands on my breasts, and his fingers gently tweaking my nipples … touches which sent ripples of pleasure through my whole body. Soon I was wiggling my clitoris against the shaft of his cock, trying to maximise those delicious sensations, while I uttered muffled moans through my nose. I could hear chuckles from GG and Freddie behind me, and from Lionel to my right, but I did not care.

“Okay!” said GG. “Time to give him a hand-job now! Or he’ll cum all over your panties.”

Reluctantly I broke the kiss and climbed off Wally … wait, reluctantly? Had I really been enjoying snogging and rubbing myself on an old man? Well … yes I had. But it was only a physical thing, of course. I could have been rubbing myself on a door handle or the corner of a desk or perhaps even a dildo, and had much the same result.

I sat down next to Wally, took hold of his cock, and began pumping it. Much of his lube had apparently rubbed off on my panties … which explained why my panties now felt disgustingly wet and sticky against my pussy … but the residual lube on my hand was fortunately sufficient to coat his erection again. And before long, he was gasping and moaning, clearly about to climax.

“Get in front of him!” GG said excitedly. “Take it on your face this time!”

I grimaced, but knelt in front of Wally, leaning forward as he spread his bare thighs as wide as the arms of the chair would allow. As I wanked his cock faster and faster, I kept it pointed at my face. Then it happened: he groaned, I felt his cock pulsate, and I closed my eyes just in time as semen began spewing out. My hopes that Wally might be a dribbler were dashed, as I felt warm splashes against my cheeks, nose, lips, chin, forehead, and eyelids. By the time the old man went limp and I finally stopped pumping, I could feel that my whole face was peppered with globs of semen.

“That’s a nice look!” cackled Lionel.

“I need to wipe my face!” I said urgently, desperate to at least clean off my eyes so that I could open them.

“I’ll help you,” said GG. “Stand up, Robyn.”

Putting one hand on Wally’s knee for support and to keep my bearings, I got to my feet. “Quickly please!” I said. The fact that my face was covered in sperm, and I was temporarily blind, was freaking me out.

A moment later, I felt my panties being pulled down. “GG!” I squealed, reaching down and grabbing a handful of air. My panties were already at my ankles.

“Lift your feet,” he said. “There aren’t any tissues in here; I’ll have to clean your face with your panties. No need to panic about it! Everyone here saw you naked on Sunday.”

“I was hoping to keep my panties on today though!” I groaned.

“Hold still,” said GG. And I felt him begin to wipe my face, starting with my forehead. He took care of my cheeks next, then my nose, lips, and chin … and finally, just as I was about to snap at him impatiently, my eyes.

I blinked a few times. “Thank you,” I said, a little huffily. “Can I have my panties back?”

“Let me wipe your chest,” said GG, and he began to wipe my breasts thoroughly. By the time he was done, it looked like my panties were soaked with semen.

“I’ll just hang on to these for the time being,” he said. “You won’t want to put them on in this state.”

He was probably right, but I was still unhappy about losing my last remaining garment. Now, once again, I was naked … and this time, I was not expecting to get my clothes back imminently. Dad would not be picking me up for another couple of hours.

“History time!” said GG. “Next two questions.”

“Oh!” I said. “Can I … sit down?”

“Of course, of course!” said GG.

I rolled my chair a couple of feet away from Wally’s – I could not look the ugly old man in the eye – and sat down.

“Hey, isn’t it my turn for a lap dance and a hand-job?” Lionel asked peevishly.

“It is,” said GG, “after Robyn’s memorised the answers to these two questions. We can’t have her dad thinking she’s learned nothing here today, or she’ll be in frightful trouble.”

Lionel subsided into inaudible muttering.

“Let’s start with a quick refresher,” said GG. “On the wall of my living room in the house where I grew up…”

“…was a propeller blade from a Spitfire,” I interrupted him. “Your dad was a mechanic in World War Two, and he got to keep it as a souvenir. And your first girlfriend was Rita…” I blanked.

“Manson,” GG prompted me.

“I’d have got there!” I said, slightly annoyed. “Her father was the owner of Gladwell’s Sweets. How old were the two of you when she was your girlfriend?”

“She was thirteen, I was twelve,” said GG. “It didn’t last, though – an older boy named Trevor Crouch came along a year later and swept her off her feet. He had a motorcycle; I couldn’t compete with that.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Carry on.”

“Question Three,” said GG, “which actress did I have a huge crush on in my teens?”

This sounded like something I might be able to guess. “Marilyn Monroe?”

“Nope,” he said. “Never was much into the whole platinum blonde thing. Although Jayne Mansfield … but no. The true object of my adoration was Joan Greenwood. I first saw her when I was, oh, thirteen I think, in Kind Hearts and Coronets. To me she was the epitome of sultry sophistication. And that voice! Oh my goodness. Not to mention beautiful.”

“Joan Greenwood,” I repeated slowly. “Never heard of her.”

“No reason you should have,” GG acknowledged, “unless you’re a fan of old black-and-white Ealing comedies. Just remember the name; don’t worry too much about context. Suffice to say she was in a bunch of old classic comedies.”

I nodded. “Okay,” I said.

“Question Four,” GG continued. “What college did I go to when I left school in 1954?”

I could not even begin to guess, so I simply awaited the answer.

“Trick question!” he said. “I never went to a college or university. Once I left school, I got a job at my dad’s garage, and I worked there for twelve years.”

“Well that’s easy enough to remember!” I said. “Left school in 1954; worked at your dad’s garage for twelve years. Got it.”

“Very good!” said GG. “Now, grab some more lube, and give Lionel a hand-job.”

“And a lap dance!” added Lionel, already on his feet and pulling his trousers down. “With a nice snog!”

I picked up the bottle of Lubrigel, and took a couple of nervous steps toward Lionel, pulling my chair along with me. As he pulled down his underwear and his cock sprang to attention, I bit my lip. “Um, I don’t think I can do a lap dance and … and so on,” I said. “Not with both of us naked…”

“You’re worried about his cock going inside you,” said GG. “Well, as I said, you needn’t worry about that, and here’s why: you’re the one in control. When a woman gives a man a lap dance, she has all the power. Same if they’re having sex, and she’s on top. What bits go where is up to her. And right now, it’s up to you. Lionel isn’t in control; you are. You can rub yourself on his cock as much as you want, and he’ll enjoy the heck out of that, I’m sure … as will you. But it starts when you want it to, and it stops when you want it to. The positioning of his cock is up to you. Nothing goes inside you unless, or until, you want it to. Even lubricated, a cock will need quite a push to get into, let’s say, an ‘inexperienced’ vagina. So don’t worry: you’re not going to lose your virginity by accident.”

“Okay,” I said, somewhat reassured. “But that’s not my only reservation. It’s still gross to rub my naked … I mean … with nothing at all between us … it’s icky!”

All four men laughed. “Lionel may be old,” said GG, “and unattractive. But he’s no less clean than your average teenaged boy. He’s not diseased. There’s no reason for you to be any more concerned about touching his knob with your pussy, than you were about touching Freddie’s with your hand. You’re both single, so there’s no infidelity angle. And while you do have your sights on a boy … this will help you get him! It’s all good practice – and if you can do this without freaking out, you’ll be more confident about doing it with Ethan.”

Lionel had by now taken all his clothes off. Naked as a newborn, and looking like a saggy, wrinkly potato, he sat back in his chair with his cock pointing at the ceiling. It was chubby and blotchy, and slightly curved to one side. “I … I don’t think you need much encouragement there,” I said anxiously.

“You can’t give the others a lap dance and not me,” said Lionel firmly. “Climb aboard, girl – I’m dying to feel your pussy on my cock.”

With a little whimper, I set the bottle down on the table, and climbed on to Lionel’s lap. The song now playing was ‘Spinning Around’, which prompted a vision of myself spinning around like a top on Lionel’s lap, impaled on his erect penis. I almost retched at the idea.

As I brought my left leg up and hooked it over the arm of the chair, Lionel grabbed my waist and pulled me firmly against his torso. My pussy squished against his cock, my labia parting around his shaft. Grinning, Lionel bent his head down and began sucking noisily on my right breast, his tongue flicking against my nipple.

“Start rubbing against him!” GG urged me. “You look like a frightened little rabbit! Take control. Remember why you’re doing this. Pretend he’s Ethan if you have to. Feel the music! Move to the rhythm!”

It was all good advice, and I nodded. In tune with the beats of the music, I started thrusting my hips, rubbing my pussy against Lionel’s cock. The arousal I had built up with Wally had not fully abated, and it now began to return.

But then Lionel removed his mouth from my breast, and raised his head. “That’s chafing a bit,” he said. “Let’s use some of this.” And he picked up the bottle. As he upended it over the tip of his penis and squeezed, I gasped in alarm.

“Not too much!” I warned him, but it was too late: a stream of lube poured from the bottle, deluging my pussy and Lionel’s cock. “Ugh!” I exclaimed.

“Not to worry!” said Lionel cheerfully. “It’ll just be a but slippery. Now give us a kiss.”

I put my arms around his neck, grimaced a little, then pressed my lips against his. Snogging old men was never pleasant, but I had done it enough times now that I could get straight into it with confidence and efficiency. It was almost like doing a job. It might not be nice or fun, but I knew the moves and I was good at it, so I might as well just get on with it.

In thinking these things, I was perhaps not being fully honest with myself. Part of me – a small part, to be sure – was very aware that my body enjoyed being aroused, and that the snogging and groping and genital rubbing was undeniably arousing. My partner in these activities might be repulsive, but with my eyes closed it was not impossible to imagine doing it with someone else.

And so I set aside my disgust and reservations, and began kissing Lionel with enthusiasm, grinding my clitoris against his naked erection while he grasped and massaged my buttocks. The lube had soaked my entire pussy area, and Lionel’s cock was fully coated, so we slithered against each other with a minimum of friction. This was actually detrimental to the process of getting aroused, but my excitement was slowly building nonetheless.

It was insidious stuff, that lube. The more I ground my pussy against Lionel’s cock, the further the slimy fluid spread between our touching skin. Soon my bottom was sliding around on his thighs, and as the old man continued to massage my buttocks, his hands picked up more and more of it too. Before long, his hands felt as wet and slippery as his cock.

Then I squealed, and pulled away from Lionel in shock. “Stop that!” I exclaimed.

Lionel grinned. His middle finger had crept between my buttocks, and found the puckered muscle of my anus. Now he was gently circling it, teasing it, pressing against it. I was terrified he would push it in.

“Are you sure?” he inquired impishly, wiggling his fingertip against the opening. “It’ll feel nice…”

“I’m sure!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t be mean to the girl, Lionel!” said Wally, sounding annoyed. “No means no.”

“Thank you Wally!” I said gratefully.

“Fine, fine,” said Lionel, removing his finger. “Perhaps I could have that hand-job now?”

“Sure,” I replied, annoyed at him but glad to get off his lap. I positioned my chair next to his, sat down, and reached over to take hold of his cock. It was practically dripping with the slimy lubricant, and I grimaced as I began wanking him, my hand quickly becoming covered in lube too.

It was not long before Lionel was breathing heavily and gripping the arms of his chair. I could tell he was about to cum.

“In your mouth this time!” said GG excitedly.

“What??” I gasped. “No thank you!”

“And that’s exactly why you should!” said GG. “If the thought disgusts you so much, chances are you’ll have a strong negative reaction when Ethan asks you to do it. You might tell yourself you won’t, but it’s instinctive! The best way to avoid that disaster is to get some practice in. Go on! On your knees, Robyn. Take it in your mouth!”

The thought did indeed disgust me … and what if GG was also right about me instinctively recoiling when faced with a similar request from Ethan? What if the taste of sperm caught me off guard and I reacted badly to it? Might it not be best to get it out of the way now, so that I would know what to expect?

I got down on my hands and knees. As Lionel moved his knees apart, I leaned in, opening my mouth as I wanked his cock faster and faster.

“It might miss your mouth!” GG warned me. “Put your lips around his knob!”

“Ugh!” I muttered, but I bent my head down and gingerly lowered my open mouth on to the head of Lionel’s cock. Closing my lips around it, I held my tongue well away, far back in my mouth, so that I would not have to taste his penis.

“Lick it!” GG encouraged me. “Suck on it! It’ll make him cum faster.”

Lionel, moaning with pleasure, grabbed my head and pulled it forward. I uttered a muffled squeal as I felt his cock drive deep into my mouth, hitting my tongue and sliding all the way back to my throat. I retched, but he held my head in place and did not let me pull away. Then he began jerking his hips, causing his erection to slide rhythmically in and out of my mouth. Since my hand had lost its hold on his cock when he shoved it into my mouth, and his shaft was now buried and inaccessible, I had no choice but to wank him orally. Or, to put it another way, to give him a blowjob. I felt horribly tricked into this, and very resentful … but I had guessed that I would probably not be able to avoid blowjob practice for long. Now, apparently, it was time to give it a try.

But the taste! Not the taste of wee and sweat that I was expecting … though there was a little of that, to be sure … but the slimy, oily taste of the Lubrigel. And then, suddenly, accompanied by a loud groan of pleasure from Lionel, a salty explosion filled my mouth, and the oiliness was momentarily overpowered. The thick goo of his semen covered my tongue, and filled my throat so that I was in danger of choking. Since my mouth was still full of cock, I could not spit … and in any case GG had given me firm instructions to always swallow instead of spitting it out. But that would mean swallowing some of the lube!

I reflexively swallowed. I could do nothing else at this point. More semen came out, and I swallowed that too. GG had told me to keep sucking and swallowing until nothing more came out, so that is what I did: I sucked on Lionel’s cock, and I swallowed the dribble of semen that came out, and I sucked some more … and the more I sucked and swallowed, the more the revolting tastes of semen and lubricant diminished. Soon there was just the fleshy taste of his cock, and a trace of lube that stubbornly coated my tongue.

Lionel released my head, and I fell back on to my bottom, wiping my mouth and gasping. “That was a rotten thing to do, Lionel!” I said tearfully.

“It really was, Lionel!” said Wally angrily. “Jesus Christ, man!” So wrapped up in my little world of blowjob misery had I been for the past minute or so, I only now registered that he had been berating Lionel for most of that time.

“Okay, okay!” said Lionel, holding up his hands defensively. “I got a little carried away. I’m sorry. But she needed blowjob practice, right?”

“Indeed she did,” GG agreed. “And I was encouraging her to do just that. But Lionel … there’s a difference between encouraging and forcing … and you definitely crossed the line there.”

“I’ll say!” said Freddie.

“Okay, I said I’m sorry!” cried Lionel. Looking around, he realized, as I now did, that everyone was glaring at him in a rather hostile manner. “I’m truly sorry. Robyn, I humbly apologise. I … it’s been so long. I know that’s no excuse. But I … I did just get caught up in the moment. I didn’t mean to take advantage. I didn’t mean to make you feel forced. I … I’m so sorry.” Hanging his head, he began to sob, his shoulders shaking.

Frankly, I thought to myself, he deserved to feel this bad. But my softer side was moved by his clearly genuine display of remorse, and I found myself saying, “All right Lionel, thank you for your apology. I know you weren’t trying to be mean.”

GG sighed. “Well that rather spoiled what was otherwise a useful and beneficial exercise,” he said. “Robyn, you did very well to make the best of a nasty experience. I hope you got some benefit out of it, despite having been given little choice in the matter.”

“I suppose,” I said reluctantly. “I know what sperm tastes like now. But that lubricant – it’s horrible!”

“Yes, well, it’s not supposed to be taken orally,” he said.

“You did tell me to lick and suck Lionel’s willy,” I reminded him reproachfully.

“Just the tip!” said GG. “Though, honestly, I wasn’t thinking about the lube.” He sighed. “I was going to ask you to do me next, but under the circumstances I’m not going to subject you to that just yet. Let’s review your history quiz so far, and do the next two questions.”

I nodded. “Thank you,” I said.

“What hung on our living room wall when I was growing up?” GG asked.

“A propeller blade from a Spitfire,” I replied. “Your dad brought it home from the war – he was a mechanic.”

“Right you are,” GG confirmed. “And my first girlfriend…”

“Rita Manson,” I said. “Her dad was the owner of Gladwell’s Sweets.”

“Good!” said GG. “And my teenage crush?”

I hesitated.

“Actress…?” he prompted me.

“I know!” I said. “I … I can’t remember her name. “Jo … Joan? Something? Grove … Grosvenor? No. Goldman…?”

“Greenwood,” he corrected me.

“Greenwood!” I exclaimed, annoyed at myself. “I’d have got there in the end.”

“I’m sure you would have,” he said politely. “And the college I went to…?”

“You didn’t,” I said. “You went straight from school to working in your dad’s garage. You were there for twelve years.”

“Very good!” said GG happily. “Next question, then: what was the first country I visited, when I left England for the first time in my life?”

“France…?” I hazarded. One had to go through France to get to the rest of Europe, after all.

“Nope!” said GG. “Canada. Dad had relatives in Toronto; one of them, Eric Mackie, came over here and flew with the RAF, so they actually met briefly during the war. Dad had a standing invitation to visit him after the war, but we didn’t have a lot of money, so it wasn’t until I was eighteen that Dad said, ‘Right, let’s all go to Canada for two weeks!’ I was seeing this girl, Lottie, at the time, and she came with us. My older sister, Anne, didn’t come with us – she was already married by then – but my younger sister Cheryl came along too. She was two years younger than me.”

“Are your sisters … still alive…?” I asked tentatively. It occurred to me that I probably ought to know this already, but Dad had been absent from my life for so long, I knew next to nothing about his side of the family.

“Cheryl isn’t,” said GG sadly. “She didn’t make it past fifty. Breast cancer, poor thing. Anne’s still going strong though – she lives with her son and his wife.”

“I’m sorry about Cheryl,” I said humbly. I had always wanted a sibling, and I imagined it must be awful to lose one.

“Oh, don’t be,” said GG, smiling warmly. “Long time ago now. Right. Next question. Who was I engaged to for three months, but never married?”

I shook my head, and shrugged.

“Her name was Mandy Holliday,” GG continued. “Terrifying girl. Six feet and one inch tall, if you can believe it. Took no nonsense from anyone – including me! We took her on at the garage in, oh, ‘56 this would have been. Knew more about cars than any girl I’d ever met. More than most men, too. Customers used to ignore her and talk to me or Dad or Roger, so we’d have fun with them and pretend not to know some detail of a particular car’s construction, and call out something like, ‘Mandy, what’s the wheelbase on a Morris Oxford Series MO?’ And she’d know the answer, of course; she’d always know the answer. Unfortunately, Dad sacked her after she punched a customer for smacking her bottom.”

“She punched a man?” I asked in surprise. “Wow – I like this woman!”

GG chuckled. “I liked her too. After my dad sacked her – which he did while I wasn’t there, by the way – I had a good old go at him. Then I went to her house and said how sorry I was and that it was terribly unjust … and she kissed me! Just like that. And then we were going out. And before long we were engaged. Dad had relented by this point, and offered her her job back, but she didn’t want it. She said it would mess things up if we worked together. But as it happened, I managed to mess things up anyway…”

This extra detail was very interesting, but I needed to focus on the answer to the question. “Mandy Holliday,” I said. “Six foot one.”

“That’s right,” said GG. “Okay, that was Question Five. On to Question Six: how did I meet Paula Tucker, the girl who would become my wife?”

“Not a clue,” I said.

“I saw her being hit by a car,” said GG. “Happened right in front of me! And that bloody driver … he just took off! I didn’t even have time to memorise his registration number. Took off, tyres squealing, leaving this poor girl unconscious on the pavement!”

“How awful!” I said.

“It didn’t occur to me not to move her,” GG went on. “This was 1959; we weren’t so savvy about these things. At least I wasn’t. I just lifted her into my car and drove her to the local hospital. Turned out she’d broken a leg and had a nasty head injury, and they had to keep her there for several weeks. I checked up on her every day; she was conscious on my first visit and wanted to know what had happened. After that she just seemed glad of some company. I discovered that her family, having been to see her once, didn’t bother showing up again after that. We got to know each other quite well, and I asked her if she’d have dinner with me once she was well enough to leave the hospital. She said yes … and, well, kept saying yes after that. We got married six months later, after she found out she was pregnant.”

“That’s quite a story!” I said. “And nice and easy to remember. You met your wife, Paula – my great-grandma! – when she got hit by a car and you took her to the hospital.”

“She was such a sweet and gentle woman,” said GG with a sigh. “I wish you could have met her … oh, but of course you did!”

“I did?” I inquired in surprise. “I don’t think so…”

“She was at your christening,” said GG. “As was I. I don’t imagine you remember that though.”

“No, I don’t!” I said.

“All right,” said GG. “One more hand-job, then.” He began unbuckling his belt.

“On you?” I said plaintively. “GG, you’re my great-grandad!”

“That didn’t stop you from rubbing yourself on my knob on Sunday,” said GG, “and it shouldn’t stop you now. It’s just a penis, Robyn – like any other. Practice is practice. And this time, the semen will go on your pussy.”

“Ugh,” I said, shuddering, though in truth that sounded better than in my throat.

“After your experience with Lionel, though,” GG continued, “I worry that you’re going to see blowjobs as something traumatic and unpleasant. I think we should start with a blowjob, to show you it’s not always like that.”

“Ugh!” I exclaimed. My own great-grandfather was asking me to suck his cock!

“I know you’d rather not,” said GG, “but you have to trust me, Robyn. Your experience with Lionel might just ruin blowjobs for you, if you let it. And when Ethan asks for one, you might have a panic attack. And then what’s he going to think? That he’ll never be able to get a blowjob from you? How do you think he’ll respond to that? Will he give up on you as a lost cause? It’s possible. Which is why we need to correct this misstep right now.”

I nodded unhappily; he was unfortunately making a lot of sense. I was already dreading another blowjob, and if my next one was with Ethan, it might be a disaster. “All right,” I whimpered.

Like Lionel, GG now removed all his clothes. I could have done without seeing his white-haired chest with its drooping man-boobs, and his paunchy, saggy belly, and his skinny, veiny legs, but as he got down on to the floor, it was hard not to focus on his semi-erect, bottle-headed penis, slightly purplish at the tip but otherwise an unhealthily pale pinkish-grey, with the occasional brownish blotch. Beneath it, his elongated testicles hung like two grapes in a deflated, hairy, wrinkly balloon.

“Why are you lying down?” I asked him warily.

“Just thought we’d try a different position,” he replied, laying his head back on the carpet tiles. “It’ll be easier for you to straddle me like this, anyway.”

This might well be true, but the thought of snogging him and rubbing my pussy on his erection while lying on top of him unnerved me somewhat. It felt very close to having sex. With a sense of unease, I knelt down next to him, and reached for his cock.

“I wouldn’t touch it with your hand just yet,” he cautioned me. “Your hand’s covered in lube, and my knob isn’t. Unless you want the taste of lube on your tongue, you might want to just get your mouth on it first.”

“Okay,” I conceded, but his cock was still not fully hard, and it was lying down against the skin of his pelvis. With a deep sense of disgust churning in the pit of my stomach, I lowered my right cheek on to his belly, and brought my mouth up to the bulbous, foreskin-wrapped head of his cock. Then I parted my lips, slid forward some more, and sucked the thing into my mouth.

It tasted gross, but at least there was no oily tone to the stale sweat-and-urine flavour. And as I sucked, and swirled my tongue around, the strong unpleasant taste faded, giving way to that of the pre-cum that was oozing from the tip. This was reminiscent of the semen which Lionel had squirted into my mouth, but much less strong.

As GG’s cock hardened, I could use my mouth to position it wherever I wanted. I opted to move my mouth directly above it, so that it stood vertically. I then bobbed my head up and down as I sucked, effectively wanking him with my mouth.

“Ooh yes!” said GG, breathing heavily. “That’s lovely, Robyn. But you’d better stop there. Now you can lube me up.”

“Is that necessary…?” I said doubtfully. “My hand’s still pretty…”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” he said. “And I’m rather curious what it feels like.”

“It’s very slimy and gross,” I told him, “but okay…”

I fetched the lube, squirted some into my hand, and then closed my hand around his shaft, sliding it up and down.

“Aaahh!” he said. “That’s nice … but … first why don’t you straddle me and we’ll have a nice kiss…”

I climbed astride him, and slowly sat down on his erect cock, squishing it against his pelvis with my pussy. Then, to the rhythm of the latest Kylie song, I began sliding back and forth, rubbing my clit against his shaft. With a sigh of pleasure, he reached up, took hold of my breasts, and gave them a squeeze. Then, my arousal building, I bent over, bringing my face down to his. Our lips met, and then our tongues, and then we were locked in an enthusiastic, sloppy kiss, while he continued to play with my breasts, and I carried on grinding my pussy against his cock. In the back of my mind I knew it was crazy and weird to be doing this with my great-grandfather … but I suppressed this thought and simply lost myself in the physical pleasure of the moment. I was not even thinking to myself how this would be good practice for Ethan; I was not thinking at all.

“Stick it in her, Bernie!”

Lionel’s excited shout startled me back to alertness, and I froze, pulling my face away from GG’s. “No!” I gasped.

“Don’t worry!” said GG. “I’ll do no such thing.”

“Good grief, Lionel!” Wally exclaimed. “Have you learned nothing?”

“Sorry, sorry!” said Lionel sheepishly. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m almost ready to cum,” panted GG. “Roll over on to your back.”

“What…?” I asked him uncertainly.

“I’m going to cum on your pussy, remember?” he said. “It’ll be easier if you’re on your back.”

This made me nervous. “What if some goes … in…?” I asked.

“Trust me,” GG said firmly. “You don’t need to worry about that. Go on – roll over.”

I carefully rolled off him, and on to my back next to him. He turned on to his side, then climbed on top of me, pushing my thighs apart with his knees. “Knees up!” he said cheerfully, and as I drew them back, he crawled forward until his thighs hit the backs of mine. “Now, finish me off with your hand.”

I grasped his cock, and began wanking it. I was deliberately aiming it at my abdomen, well above my pussy, but he lifted one hand off the floor so that he could redirect his cock with a gentle push. “Has to be on your pussy!” he said.

“Why?” I asked unhappily.

“It’s the experience!” he gasped. “You’ll see.”

I half-heartedly pumped his cock for a few seconds.

“Faster!” he urged me.

I whimpered anxiously as I wanked him with more urgency, highly aware of the vulnerability of my pussy and the exposed opening of my vagina, just a couple of inches away from the tip of GG’s cock.

“Aaahhhh!!!” he groaned, and I stared in consternation as semen spurted in long gloopy strands from the tip of his erection, splattering on to my pussy. I could feel every wet splash against me; exactly where each strand landed. Some of it, to my horror, splashed right against the entrance to my vagina. The rest of it mostly coated my labia and clitoris; I could feel a little of it against my anus, too.

I let go of his cock, and he took hold of it himself, wanking it with a series of slow strokes, milking it for every last drop. Then he began wiping the tip on my pussy. At first I thought he was trying to wipe it clean … but I soon realised he was simply smearing his semen around, coating the whole of my vulva, and downward… I gasped as I felt his cock gently come to rest against my vaginal opening. “GG!” I squealed, trying to close my thighs. But I could not; his body was between them.

“Relax!” he said soothingly. “I’m not going to push it in.” Which was all very well, but he continued rubbing his semen around my opening with the head of his cock, which was highly disconcerting. Fortunately, he seemed to be getting softer by the second, and a moment later he said, “Okay, well that’s that. I think you’ve earned your panties back, if you want them…”

“Yes please!” I said immediately. I was not expecting to be offered any clothing back so soon, and I was not about to pass up such an opportunity.

GG slowly got to his feet, as did I. I was about to ask for a tissue to clean my nether regions, but remembered that there were none in here. GG retrieved my panties, opened them out, and then held them open at knee level for me to step into.

I bent down, peering at them. “Ugh!” I said. “They’re full of sperm!” There was a large gelatinous-looking pool of translucent white goo sitting in the gusset of my panties.

“I used them to clean your face, remember?” said GG. “I know they won’t be very pleasant to wear, but at least your pussy will be covered, right?”

“Yes,” I admitted, stepping into the left leg-hole. “But I worry about some of this sperm gong inside me…”

“Then don’t,” said GG firmly. “Even when a man ejaculates deep inside a woman, pregnancy is a hit or miss affair. When was your last period?”

I blushed. This was a personal question! In the light of what I had been doing with these men, however, it was probably a silly thing to get hung up on. “It finished a few days ago,” I said awkwardly, putting my right foot into my panties. “If you want to know if this is a ‘safe’ day for me, then no, I’d say it isn’t. I’m probably not ovulating just yet, but I will be very soon!”

GG licked his lips. “Well, even so, I wouldn’t worry – unless you get a chance to have sex with Ethan in the next few days.”

“I’ll be in Egypt!” I reminded him. Then I grimaced as he pulled my panties up, and I felt cold semen against my pussy. “Ugh!”

“Oh yes,” said GG. “Anyway, you’ve nothing to fear from us old fogeys and our eighty-five- to ninety-year-old sperm. We’re long past baby-making age.”

“Oh!” I said, feeling very relieved. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Now, before we get on with the next two questions … I think you deserve to have an orgasm of your own.”

“Oh, goodness!” I said, with a nervous laugh. “I, um, that’s really not necessary…”

“Nonsense!” said GG. “After all the pleasure you’ve given us old chaps, the least we can do is return the favour. It seemed as if you were getting pretty close a moment ago, while you were on me; I’m sure it won’t take long, and you’ll feel better for it.”

I looked around at the others; they were all smiling at me, and all three were clutching and slowly wanking their penises, which were in various states of hardness. None was yet fully erect – which was understandable, given how recently they had all climaxed.

“I … you know … I can do it myself…” I said to GG awkwardly.

“You could,” he acknowledged, “but it’s more fun when someone else does it for you. And I’d very much like to repay you for the pleasure you’ve brought us all. Also, think about it this way: Ethan is bound to want to touch your pussy, and try to give you an orgasm with his fingers. How will you react to that? How will your body? Is it actually possible for you to orgasm from someone else doing all the work? It’s sometimes quite difficult, you know: your brain reacts differently to another’s touch. Better to find out now, than later, with Ethan … don’t you think?”

“I … I suppose so,” I said, a knot growing in my stomach.

“Sit down at the table,” GG invited me. “I’ll sit next to you.”

I sat down, shuddering as my pussy squelched into all of the semen in my panties. Despite GG’s assurances, I could not help but be highly aware of the baby-making potential of the gloopy fluid that was oozing into every crevice of my nether regions. The thought that some sperms might even now be swimming up inside me was terrifying. I told myself I was just being paranoid.

“Lean back,” GG instructed me. “Put your legs up on the table.”

I lifted my left leg up, and rested my calf on the table in front of me. Then I did the same with my right. GG smiled, pushed my knees further apart, and then sat down next to me, on my right. As I leaned back, GG reached between my thighs with his right hand, and cupped my pussy through my panties. Then he began to stroke me. My sodden panties slid around against my pussy, lubricated by the semen of three men.

“Close your eyes,” GG whispered. “Don’t think so much. Just enjoy the sensations.”

I shut my eyes, and tilted my head back. GG’s massage became more lewd, his fingers pressing my panties into the groove between my labia and even a little into my vagina. I was sickened by the thought that he was probably pushing semen inside me … but I was also feeling the effects of his hand rubbing my clitoris. I tried pushing all rational thoughts out of my head, and simply giving into the sensations, as he had advised me.

It worked … for a few moments. My breathing grew heavier, and I began to moan softly. My slimy panties slithered around my pussy, manipulated by the arthritic fingers of my great … no, best not to think of whose fingers they were. My pussy was being massaged by fingers; that was all that mattered. And it felt … nice…

Then I gasped in horror, my eyes snapping open. GG had just slid his hand inside the front of my panties! And now he was rubbing my pussy directly! “GG!” I exclaimed, clutching his wrist.

“Relax!” he said. “You’ve had my knob rubbing your pussy, haven’t you? This is only my hand.”

His logic was flawless, but I continued holding his wrist with both my hands as he sensuously massaged my labia and clitoris, his fingers slick with semen.

“Give us a kiss,” he whispered, bringing his face close to mine. “It’ll help you relax.”

I reluctantly parted my lips as he kissed me. His tongue was dripping saliva as he pushed it into my mouth, but I dutifully engaged myself fully, and sure enough, my brain quickly sank into a haze of warmth and pleasure and wild abandon. I began to revel in the indecent probing his fingers were giving me, and to draw perverse pleasure in the fact that his hand was inside my panties, rather than outside.

But then I felt one of his fingers slide into my vagina, and I almost choked on saliva in my horror. I uttered a muffled squeal into GG’s mouth, but he continued kissing me, and as his finger slid in and out, I found myself thinking, ‘It’s only his finger. It could be worse. At least it’s not his penis…’

My instinctive objection faded, and I resumed kissing him with enthusiasm. In truth, the fingering felt really good, and my body was having a very strong reaction. Dimly I had an anxious thought that he was pushing even more sperm inside me, but I quashed it quickly; I did not want anything to spoil my enjoyment. My orgasm was near, and I wanted it.

Whatever GG was doing, it was working. His finger, deep inside me, was wiggling rapidly and causing little electric tingles that ramped up my arousal to new heights. I broke off from the kiss, moaning loudly, and no longer caring about sperm or my nudity or how gross this all was … I was focused completely on my impending climax.

And then it came, and I shuddered, gasping and moaning and clenching my eyelids and my fists, and arching my back in ecstasy. GG now had two fingers inside me; he was thrusting them in and out, while I spread my thighs wide and ground my pussy against his hand.

It seemed to last forever. But eventually, worn out, I finally collapsed in a limp heap, while GG continued to slowly slide his fingers in and out of me.

Then, gradually, stark reality crept back in. “GG, please stop!” I pleaded. “You shouldn’t be doing that!”

“Feels nice though, doesn’t it?” he asked mildly, pushing his fingers deep, and wiggling them.

My body was betraying me; it clearly enjoyed this. But my mind was freaking out. “Please take your fingers out!” I begged him.

He did so, and withdrew his hand from my panties. “Your first fingering?” he inquired.

“Yes!” I said, pulling my legs down from the table and sitting up straight as I put my feet on the floor. My pussy once again squelched messily into the semen in my panties.

“And I’m probably the last person you wanted to give you your first fingering,” said GG sympathetically.

“Well, yes!” I said, feeling suddenly quite dirty and sad. Tears welled up in my eyes. “It should have been someone … else…”

“Like Ethan?” he said gently.

“Yes!” I said tearfully.

“Wrong!” said GG firmly. “Ethan’s the last person you should want to finger you for the first time. And this is precisely why: you’ve attached such a special significance to it. For him, it would just be a bit of fun with a pretty girl. For you, it’s this whole big thing! He’d be taken aback by your reaction to it! He might be amused; he might roll his eyes; he might be sympathetic. But the point is, it would reinforce for him that you’re younger, that you’re inexperienced, that you’re not really girlfriend material. Now that we’ve got your first fingering out of the way, we can send you off to Ethan, and when he fingers you, you can both enjoy it on a more equal footing. And he’ll respect that you’re not just some giddy sixteen-year-old, wide-eyed and experiencing everything for the first time.”

“But,” I said sadly, “you’re taking some of the magic away from getting intimate with Ethan for the first time…”

“You can have the magic,” GG conceded, nodding, “if you want it to be ephemeral. If you want to trade a potential long-term thing with Ethan for a single night of wonder. But I don’t really think you want that. You want Ethan to treat you as an equal, to fall in love with you, to romance you, to take you out to dinner, to excitedly introduce you to his family, to show you places he loves, to take you on holiday abroad, to surprise you one day by getting on one knee in a romantic setting, and opening a little box with a ring in it.”

“Ohhh!” I said earnestly. “Yes! I do want that!”

“Then you have to make him see you as a confident, experienced woman,” said GG firmly. “Not as a nervous and eager young girl, overreacting to every little thing. Believe me, I just did you a favour.”

I sighed regretfully. “You’re probably right,” I conceded. “You do make a lot of sense. I suppose I want to have my cake and eat it too.”

GG nodded. “Just keep trusting me,” he said. “We’ll get you your man.”

It was strange, but I actually felt a sense of relief at his words. I had been starting to feel so lost, so much like I was on the wrong path. Getting together with Ethan had felt like a goal that was slipping away from me as I became surrounded and devoured by lecherous old men. But GG was once again making sense, and putting my fears to rest. He had been right so far; I just needed to let go and stop worrying so much.

“Okay,” I said. “I trust you.”

“Good!” he said, grinning. “Now, let’s recap your quiz questions, and I’ll give you your next two.”

I thought hard. “Spitfire propeller blade on the wall of your living room,” I said. “Rita Manson was your first girlfriend; her dad owned Gladwell’s sweets. Your teenage crush was actress Joan … Greenwood. She was in old comedies. You didn’t go to college; you just worked in your dad’s garage for twelve years. The first country you visited was Canada, where your dad had relatives – in Toronto. One of them flew with the RAF. And … um … oh yes. You were engaged to Mandy Holliday for three months, after your dad sacked her from the garage for punching a man who smacked her bottom.”

“Very good!” said GG. “Next question. Why did I leave the garage?” He paused. “Because Dad sold it. He’d had a very good offer, and took the opportunity to retire early. He was nearly sixty, and his back was none too good by that point. The new owner’s son was an obnoxious so-and-so who started bossing us around as if we were dogsbodies instead of experienced mechanics. One day I called him a twat, picked up my things, and walked out. Got a job at another garage – that only lasted three years, but by then I’d picked up some skills as a salesman, and I switched to selling cars for Triumph. But that’s another story.”

“Your dad sold the garage, your new owners were twats,” I said. “Got it.”

GG chuckled. “Well … close enough. Next question. What happened to Sarah – my daughter and your grandmother – when she was four years old? This would have been in 1966.”

Four years old. Obviously something significant, yet non-fatal. “She fell down the stairs?” I hazarded.

“Good guess!” said GG. “But no. She was hit by a car.”

“Oh no!” I said.

“We didn’t have child safety locks on the back doors in those days,” GG went on. “We’d just bought a saloon; it was our first car with four doors, and the girls loved having their own doors to get in and out of. Sarah knew she was only allowed to open the left-side door, because of the pavement being on that side, but on this occasion I’d parked on the right-hand side of the road, because that was where the only parking space was.” He sighed. “So I stop the car, and Sarah, all excited, opens her door and hops out. Soon as she closes her door, this car comes out of nowhere and knocks her flying. Fortunately it wasn’t going all that fast, and it just clipped her … but oh my God! I thought we’d lost her.”

“That must’ve been horrible!” I said, aghast. “How badly hurt was she?”

“Dislocated shoulder,” said GG. “And that was it, amazingly. No lost teeth, no head injury, no broken bones … just a few scrapes and bruises. The young woman who hit her was absolutely beside herself and insisted on coming to the hospital with us. After that, Sarah refused to get out of the car on her own for years; Paula or I had to get out and open the door for her, and assure her it was safe. Cathy, luckily, was too young to understand what had happened.”

I nodded. “I’m sure Sarah … Grandma … was quite traumatised!” I said. “Well, I’m certainly going to remember that story. So … that’s eight. Two more to go. What time is it?”

“Four-twenty,” said GG. “Plenty of time yet. Let’s go downstairs for a bit.”

“To do what…?” I asked warily. I had become relatively comfortable in this room, with this limited audience, and I was not looking forward to returning to the common room.

“Nothing much,” said GG. “We have to keep you out of the common room, at least until the schoolchildren leave. You can stay in my room until then.”

“Can I get dressed?” I asked hopefully.

GG chuckled. “No, it’ll be good for you to spend as much time naked as possible. But don’t worry – we’ll have you dressed again before your dad picks you up.”

“Okay,” I said glumly. I had no idea where he had put my clothes, so I had no way of getting dressed without his permission. “Can I at least … have a shower, or something? I’m all slimy and gross.”

“Hmm,” said GG thoughtfully. “Yes! I don’t see why not. In fact, why don’t you have one now? My room has a nice shower – with a seat that folds down from the wall if you need it! I don’t suppose you will.”

“Will we get to see you again before you go?” asked Wally hopefully.

“Once I’m dressed, I’ll be sure to come and say goodbye,” I promised him.

We took the lift back down to the ground floor, and I returned with GG to his room. “Panties off!” he said with a grin. “You won’t need them in the shower.”

“Well, they could do with rinsing out!” I remarked.

“They won’t have time to properly dry afterwards,” he said dismissively. “I’ll find you a little plastic bag you can take them home in.”

I groaned. My skirt was too short for me to be comfortable going home without any panties on. But if I was careful, there should be no need to worry about Dad seeing anything. “All right,” I said resignedly. I took my panties off, and gave them to GG as he held his hand out.

“Enjoy your shower!” he said.

I shut myself in his little corner bathroom, and soaked myself under a rather weak spray or warm water. As showers went, it was pretty pathetic, but it did its job. As I washed my nether regions free of semen and Lubrigel, it was as if a huge weight was being lifted off my shoulders.

Afterwards, I found a towel hanging up, and dried myself off. It might well have already been used by GG, but I was not exactly in a position to be fussy. Thankfully, my hair had completely escaped contamination by the semen that had deluged my face and chest, and I did not attempt to wash it. If Dad picked me up and my hair looked damp, he would have questions. Awkward questions.

Wrapping the towel around myself, and tucking it into itself on my left side, I walked out of the bathroom to find GG sitting on his bed. “Feeling better?” he inquired.

“Much!” I said. “Thank you.”

“I, um, have some bad news though,” said GG, looking a little embarrassed. “Your clothes…”

“What about them?” I asked anxiously.

“They … they were picked up by a well-meaning staff member,” said GG apologetically, “and taken to the laundry with a bunch of other clothes. I tried to retrieve them but … I’m afraid they’re already in the machine…”

“Oh no!!” I exclaimed. “Will they be clean and dry before Dad gets here?”

“No,” said GG. “Unfortunately not…”

“Oh my God!” I cried, panic-stricken. “What am I going to do??”

“Well,” he said, “I do have one idea…”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Call your dad,” he replied, “and tell him you’re staying the night here. He can pick you up in the morning.”

“What??” I gasped. “I don’t want to stay here overnight!”

“It would solve your clothing problem,” said GG calmly. “And … it would give us a chance to discuss your strategy concerning Ethan. I have a couple of ideas that I think will interest you…”

“We’re flying to Egypt tomorrow!” I said incredulously. “I need to pack! And what possible reason could I give for wanting to stay the night? And does this place even allow overnight guests??”

“That’s a lot of questions,” said GG. “First of all – what time do you need to be at the airport?”

“Um … I think Dad was talking about being there by two o’clock,” I said. “Which means leaving the house around one o’clock. Right after lunch, basically.”

“So you have time,” said GG. “He can pick you up in the morning, and you’ll still have a couple of hours to pack. As for the reason for staying the night, tell him you’re having fun getting to know me and my friends here, and you’d like a little more time…”

“He’ll never buy that,” I said, shaking my head. “Not in a million years.”

“Hmm,” said GG. “How about, you’re feeling rather overwhelmed with all the things I’ve taught you, and you need more time to memorise them?”

“Better,” I conceded. “But I still think he’ll find it really weird that I want to stay the night.”

GG scratched his chin. “Then perhaps,” he said, “it needs to come from me. My recommendation. And his decision. Despite your protests.”

“That could work,” I admitted. “But what if he goes against your recommendation?”

“Leave that to me,” he said, picking up the phone on his bedside table.

“But … but where would I sleep?” I stammered, suddenly feeling nervous about the prospect of spending a night in this place.

“Guest room!” said GG. “I’ll clear it with Sheila, but I don’t imagine she’ll object. She may have some conditions, but we’ll work it out.” He dialled Dad’s number.

I gulped. Suddenly the prospect of staying overnight seemed very real. I felt my stress level rising. What if GG and his friends wanted me to do more sexual stuff? The memory of GG’s fingers inside me … and Lionel fucking my mouth with his cock … and all the other awful things that had happened to me upstairs … filled my mind and pushed me into panic mode. I…

“Hello! Melvin!” said GG. “Grandad here. Listen … oh, yes, she’s fine. Well … yes, fine. But I want to talk to you about her while she’s in the bathroom. You see … when she arrived, she was acting very sulky and rebellious, and didn’t seem to want to learn anything from me. Just folded her arms and stared out of the window.”

I gasped, and was about to protest vehemently, but he silenced me with a finger on his lips.

“No no, don’t fly off the handle,” GG continued quickly. “It gets better. You see … well, it took a while. I decided to abandon our little history lesson, and just took her around the common room and introduced her to my friends. She listened to their stories – reluctantly at first, perhaps, but the more she listened, the more interested she became. Gradually the fortifications started coming down. Melvin … I’m starting to get through to her! She’s beginning to open up, to show a willingness to learn. Yes, yes, it’s great … but I need more time! If you come and pick her up at six, she might be able to demonstrate a little knowledge she’s picked up … but I’d like her to spend the whole evening here. Not learning the whole time, of course … we’ll play games, chat, listen to music, and so on … but if she can just spend this time with some elderly people, I think she’s going to come out of this visit with a different, richer perspective on life. Well, no, I don’t want you to have to come out here late at night. What if she … spent the night here? You could pick her up in the morning. Why, what’s wrong with that idea? There’s a guest room here – it’s supposed to be used for overnight visitors. Yes of course we’ll feed her. Yes, there’s a cost, naturally … but I’ll cover that, don’t worry. It’d be my pleasure! I’m beginning to get on quite well with Robyn; she’s a sweet girl. She just needed to … well, you know how she’s hung up on this boy, Ethan… I know, I know. But she hasn’t even mentioned him once in the past hour! Once she got over being angry and resentful, her real personality started showing through. Oh, I hear the toilet flushing. Quick … what do you think? Can she st… oh good! Well I’ll need you to persuade her… Here she is. It’s your father, Robyn.”

GG winked at me, then handed me the phone. “Hi Dad,” I said.

“Hi,” he replied. “So … how are you getting on with Grandad?”

“Pretty well,” I conceded, playing my part. “Once you get to know him, he’s actually quite interesting.”

“Good! Good. Well, he thinks … he and I think … it would be a good idea for you to spend the night there.”

“What??” I said. “Spend the night? Why? What about my packing?”

“You can finish that in the morning, when I bring you home,” said Dad. “You said you were all organised, right?”

“Well yes, but … I was looking forward to getting my phone back!” I said. “What if Ethan replied to me?”

“You can answer him in the morning,” said Dad firmly. “I think this will be good for you, Robyn. Grandad says the two of you have started getting on pretty well.”

“I suppose we have,” I admitted.

“Tell me something you’ve learned from him so far,” said Dad.

“Um,” I said, thinking quickly. “Well, he’s full of cool stories! Like … did you know that his dad worked as a aircraft mechanic during World War Two? And that he brought home the blade of a propeller from a Spitfire? It hung on the wall of his living room for years. And one of the RAF pilots he met was a chap from Toronto in Canada, who was actually a cousin of his! And so when GG was … um, eighteen I think? … the whole family went to Canada, which was GG’s first trip abroad…”

Dad laughed. “Yes, I did know some of that. Well, I’m glad you’re learning some family history. That’s great! I’m sure you can stand to spend the evening there, and stay the night. I’ll pick you up in the morning – say around eight o’clock? If you’ve not eaten breakfast by then, you can have some at home.”

I hesitated, for what seemed like a reasonable amount of decision-making time. “I … I suppose it might not be too bad,” I said, sounding reluctant. Indeed, this did not require much acting; I was still not keen on the idea of spending the night here. But GG seemed to have backed off on the sexual stuff, and now wanted to talk about a strategy for getting Ethan … and I was certainly interested in hearing about that.

“All right!” said Dad. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Bye Robyn.”

“Bye Dad,” I said. And I hung up.

GG grinned. “Excellent,” he said. “Now, let’s go to the common room.”

I shivered. “Um … where are my panties?” I asked.

“I took them to the laundry,” GG replied. “You’ll get them back tomorrow morning, with the rest of your clothes.”

I gasped. “So I’m … just supposed to stay naked until then??”

“Yes!” said GG, his eyes sparkling. “It’ll be good for you! Come on, there’s no need to look so tragic. You’ve been naked in the common room before.”

“Briefly!” I said. “And I didn’t like it!”

“You’ll get used to it,” he assured me. “Come on, let’s go. Leave the towel behind.”

I felt panic rising within me. “GG, please let me keep the towel,” I begged him, tears in my eyes.

He hesitated. “All right,” he said. “Just for a while! But at some point, it’ll have to come off.”

This was better than nothing. “Okay,” I said in a small voice.

I accompanied him to the common room, where a chorus of welcoming noises helped me to feel more at ease. I sat down with Willie, and a friend of his called Matthew, whom I had not seen much of before now. He wore black-rimmed glasses, and sported a thick moustache and bushy eyebrows that matched his silver-grey hair. Both men were very interested in why I was wearing a towel, and could hardly keep their eyes off my legs … but otherwise they were very polite and amiable, and I had a nice chat with them.

At dinner time, everyone got up and made their way at varying speeds to the dining room. Some of the residents, I was told, preferred to eat in their rooms, but most of those I had got to know so far were here. I sat down at a table with GG, Freddie, and Lionel, and a dark-skinned woman named Joella brought out trays of food. She had apparently been told about me, because she gave me a rather contemptuous look before dumping a plate in front of me.

“Thank you very much,” I said humbly. Her attitude softened a little. I was very relieved to still have my towel.

The meal was sausages, chips, and peas; the portion was rather small. I finished mine in no time, and downed a glass of water. Lionel, who was sitting next to me, kept trying to sneakily untuck my towel, even after I snapped at him.

“Will you make him stop, please?” I demanded of GG.

But my great-grandfather just chuckled. “It’ll be coming off soon anyway,” he said. “You might as well just let him take it off you.”

I pouted, and made no further objection, but somehow I managed to keep my towel on for the whole meal. Afterwards we returned to the common room, where I played a couple of games of chess with Wally. During my second game, while I was trying to work out my next move, my towel suddenly came untucked and sank to my waist.

“Time for this to come off,” said GG in my ear, as he reached his arms around me to pull the towel open. “Lift your bottom please.”

I had been expecting this, but that did not make it any easier. “When are you going to give me the last two questions?” I grumbled, as I leaned on my elbows, allowing GG to extract the towel.

“Right after your game, if you like,” he replied.

“Okay,” I said.

Wally won the second game, though not quite as easily as he had won the first. I thanked him, then looked around for GG. He was on the far side of the room, talking to Catty, so I got to my feet and made my way over, my hands clasped self-consciously over my naked pussy. I felt as if all eyes in the room were on me – as indeed they probably were.

“Ah, Robyn!” said GG with a smile. “Come, sit down.”

“What a lovely body!” said Catty, sighing wistfully. “I love that you’re so generous with it. If I were sixty years younger…”

“Would you like to finger her?” GG said teasingly. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind…”

“I would mind!” I said indignantly. “I minded before! It’s just that you … you…”

“Did the old rascal take advantage?” Catty inquired. “Shame on you, Bernie! Not that I can really blame you…”

“It was all for the purpose of helping her!” GG said defensively. “I won’t say it wasn’t fun … but everything we did upstairs, Robyn, was for your benefit. If you still don’t believe that, wait until you get together with Ethan. Then you’ll see … and you’ll thank me!”

I grimaced, but nodded. “I’m sure you’re probably right,” I said reluctantly, “but it’s hard not to feel like you and your friends are having fun at my expense.”

“We are,” he acknowledged. “Just as you are getting an education at ours. And, let’s not forget, the fun isn’t entirely one-sided. Did you not enjoy your orgasm?”

“I suppose so,” I confessed.

“There you go then,” said GG, with a satisfied expression. “Now, shall we go over your quiz questions so far?”

“Sure,” I said, sitting down in an armchair. “On the wall of your living room…” I went through all eight questions and answers that he had taught me so far, and he nodded as I talked. He corrected me on a couple of minor details, but I got them all broadly correct. Catty listened for a while, intrigued, but then she excused herself, saying she had to go to the bathroom.

“Excellent!” said GG, once I had finished. “Now. Question Nine: what happened to me on our holiday in Scotland in 1969?”

“No idea,” I replied.

“I got arrested!” he said cheerfully. “It was sheer bad luck – a case of mistaken identity, and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The police were out looking for a poacher, and found me instead. I had no idea I was trespassing; I just fancied an early morning walk while Paula and the children were still asleep in the caravan. I came across this dead deer – recently killed – and while I was looking at it, these two policemen came over the hill and started running towards me.”

“Oh no!” I said.

“It was all resolved quite quickly, back at the police station,” GG continued. “It wasn’t hard to prove we’d only been at the caravan site for three days, and before that in Stevenage. Poor Paula was very upset though.”

“I’m sure!” I said. “Okay, so … you were arrested in Scotland. Whereabouts in Scotland?”

“Stonehaven, in Aberdeenshire,” said GG. “Final question: what celebrity did Paula and I run into, in July 1971, while on holiday in Brighton?”

“Probably someone I’ve never heard of!” I replied. “No idea.”

“Billie … Jean … King,” said GG, smiling proudly.

I stared at him blankly. “Um,” I said. “Was he, like, Martin Luther King’s son or something?”

“What?” he said. “No! She! Famous tennis player! Won Wimbledon multiple times in the sixties and seventies! Battle of the Sexes!”

I shrugged. “A little before my time, GG!” I said defensively.

He sighed. “I suppose so,” he said. “Sad that so much history gets so easily forgotten. Billie Jean King was … still is … a legend. In the early seventies … ‘73 I think it was … there was a loudmouth American tennis player – male – called Bobby Riggs. He was very scornful of women’s tennis, and though he was in his fifties, he boasted that he could beat any female tennis player easily. So a match was arranged – the ‘Battle of the Sexes’ – between him and an Australian player called Margaret Court. She’d won Wimbledon a few times and was regarded as one of the best female players in the world at the time. And … he absolutely trounced her. It was vindication for him; embarrassing for Court, and for women’s tennis in general. And by all accounts, Billie Jean King was furious about it. She immediately challenged Riggs to a match – a second Battle of the Sexes – and he accepted … on one condition. It had to be a five-set match, like in the men’s game. Women only played a three-set match; I suppose because it was thought they couldn’t handle five sets. Of course, it was ‘best of five’, which means if one player wins the first three sets, that’s it. So they played … and Billie Jean King thrashed him. In three sets! It was a wonderful thing to see.”

I smiled. “That does sound cool,” I said. “Good for her! Billie Jean King. I think I can remember that name. It helps that I have some context now. And you met her!”

“Yes, in Brighton,” said GG. “She’d just come from Wimbledon. Didn’t win the singles that year – she lost in the semifinals to Evonne Goolagong, who went on to win the final. She was smaller than I was expecting – probably about your height – but I could see she had terrific muscles – she was clearly very strong. I said hello. Paula said she was a big fan; she congratulated Billie on winning the doubles championship, and said she was sorry Billie hadn’t won the singles title this time. They chatted for a couple of minutes; I didn’t say much. Then we went to get our breakfast, and that was it. Later that year she won the US Open, which was a good bit of redemption for her.”

I nodded. Then I bit my lip. “Um,” I said, “you mentioned you had some new ideas about how I could get Ethan…”

“Oh yes!” he said. “Right. Well, you remember how I said that it’s vital you don’t have sex with Ethan when you meet up? At least not at first?”

“Yes,” I said cautiously. I was not totally sold on this plan, but I did see GG’s logic.

“You can give him a hand-job or a blowjob instead,” said GG, “both of which you’ve now had a little practice at. But how do you initiate that? And how do you ensure that halfway through the blowjob (or hand-job) he doesn’t say ‘Okay enough of that – let’s have sex’? Given how smitten you are with him, I’m guessing you’re not likely to refuse him.”

I blushed. “It might be … difficult,” I conceded.

“Difficult, but imperative,” said GG firmly. “You MUST not let him have everything he wants, all at once. Or once he’s fucked you, he’ll have no reason to keep you around. You’ve got to keep his interest; make him cum, but drive him crazy with desire in the process. When you leave his house, you want him obsessing over you.”

“How?” I asked.

“I think you can make better use of that lap dance,” said GG. “You do it very well, and it could be the best tool in your toolbox. The beauty of it is that you remain in control … so you can get as close as you want to having sex with him … without actually having sex with him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled. My last few lap dances had involved me rubbing my bare, lubricated pussy against the bare, lubricated erections of GG and his friends; I was not sure how much closer to having sex I could get!

“I’ll show you,” said GG. “If you can stomach one more lap dance…?”

I shuddered, and looked around. The room was less populated than it had been earlier, and no nurses were here. “I … I suppose so…”

“Maggie!” said GG, looking over at the radio. “Oh, she’s retired for the night. Never mind; can you go and switch on the radio? Keep the volume low; it’s getting late.”

“It’s only nine o’clock!” I said.

“Precisely,” said GG. “Some of us like an early night. I myself like to go to bed at about eleven, but others, like Maggie, are asleep by nine-thirty.”

“Okay,” I said. “Does it have to be sixties stuff though…?”

“Best not to change the channel,” GG advised me.

I sighed. “Fine,” I said. I got up and walked over to the radio, turned the volume down, switched it on, then adjusted the volume back up a little as I heard the words “…lonely people, where do they all come from…” coming from the speakers. It sounded like a dreary song; not danceable at all.

“Ooh! Eleanor Rigby!” said GG.

“I can’t dance to this,” I remarked.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “They tend to put quieter stuff on in the evenings. Let’s see what comes on next.”

The next song was better, though GG was apparently not a fan. “Ugh, Cliff Richard,” he said gloomily.

“I can dance to this one at least,” I said.

GG nodded. Then he stood up, looked around as he unbuckled his belt, and pulled his trousers down to his knees. As he sat down, his semi-hard cock stood out at an angle. “Oh!” he said. “The lube!”

“Do we need it?” I asked unhappily. “It’s gross, and I just got nice and clean.”

“Best if we have it,” said GG. “Oh – and my tablet too. Can you quickly run back to my room and grab them please? Before you miss too much of the song?”

I sighed, then hurried out of the room. Running naked through the care home corridors was not how I had expected to spend my evening, but fortunately I encountered nobody, and returned with the lube and the tablet less than a minute later. I handed them to GG, who put the tablet down, then squirted some lube into his hand, and lubed up his cock. “Come closer,” he said.

I gasped as he cupped my pussy, and began rubbing the horrible slimy gel all over it. His slippery fingers massaged my labia and sank into the cleft between them. By the time he was done, another minute had passed. “Okay!” he said. “Start your dance … and then straddle my dick.”

I did not like the sound of that, but it was not really anything I had not done before. I bounced and twirled and twerked in front of him, then, as Lionel and Freddie came wandering over, I climbed on to the sofa, kneeling astride GG’s lap. The song was fading out, but by now it probably did not matter.

“Now pay attention!” said GG. “Because this part is important. I want you to reach down, grab my knob, and guide it to your vagina.”

“What??” I gasped. “No! Absolutely not!”

“I didn’t say put it in!” GG pointed out. “This is just a tease. A monumental tease; the mother of all teases. Remember that you’re on top, and in control. I’m sitting down; I can’t thrust myself into you. You can either lower yourself on to my cock … or not. And when you’re doing this with Ethan, you’ll certainly NOT be doing that. But he doesn’t have to know that. He’ll be on tenterhooks, anticipating a penetration that isn’t going to happen. It’ll drive him nuts! Go ahead; direct me to your opening. Just don’t sit down on me, and you’ll be fine.”

I hesitated, then reached down between my legs, and grasped his erect cock. With a sense of dread, I directed it backward a little, so that it slid slickly against my pussy, until it reached my vagina. There I held it in place, feeling very anxious.

“Good!” said GG. “Now lower yourself just a bit, so it lodges there and won’t easily slip forward or back.”

I gulped. “Lower myself?” I whimpered. “But it’ll … go in…”

“No it won’t,” he assured me. “You’re still tight down there; it’ll take some effort to get a knob into you. You’ll find you can press down fairly firmly, and all that will happen is that my cock will be stuck in your entrance, not going in, but not able to slip out either. And then you can let go with your hand.”

“This feels very dangerous!” I fretted, pressing my loins down a little. I felt my opening expand slightly. I let go of GG’s cock, and he guided my hand to his shoulder.

“It’s really not,” he said. “But it’s a fantastic tease. Just dance on my lap; hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes … gently wiggling your hips, so that my knob moves subtly against your opening down there.” The head of his cock felt as if it was twitching eagerly.

I experimentally – and very slowly – began undulating my hips. Well-lubricated with slippery gel, GG’s penis slid oscillated back and forth, its tip no doubt poking just a tiny bit into my vagina. If he climaxed like this, I realised with alarm, he would shoot his semen straight up inside me.

It did feel nice, though. Scary and risky and stressful, yes … but physically it was quite arousing, the sensations causing my heart to race and my cheeks to flush. I settled into a slow rhythm, my vagina holding GG’s cock in place as I danced while looking into his excited, watery eyes.

“Ahhh … that’s good!” he gasped. “Ethan won’t know what hit him! As long as you don’t spoil it by dropping yourself fully on to his knob, you’ll be able to dictate the terms of your relationship with him – to some extent. You’ll leave him wanting more of you … you’ll be in his thoughts constantly.”

“Sounds good!” I said, a little breathlessly.

“You can lower yourself just a bit,” he suggested. “It won’t go in far. It’ll take a big push to break through your hymen and take your virginity … and we’re not going to do that. But there’s some leeway before that point, and if you get the head of my knob really stuck in there, you’ll be able to move more without worrying about it slipping loose.”

“I don’t know, GG,” I said doubtfully.

“He’s right, you know,” said Lionel, who had sat down to GG’s left. “You can let it sink in quite far … you’ll feel the resistance as it comes up against your hymen, and you can stop at that point.” His cock was out, and in his hand; he was slowly massaging it.

“Indeed,” agreed Freddie, sitting to my left in the armchair I had vacated. “Go on, try it.”

In my aroused state, I was perhaps not thinking as clearly as I should have been. I found myself saying, “Okay…” and letting my weight settle me down further on to GG’s cock. I felt my vaginal opening expand around the engorged head as it slowly sank inside me. At that point, suddenly freaking out, I stopped and said anxiously, “This doesn’t mean we’re having sex, does it?”

“No!” said GG firmly. “I’m nowhere near deep enough for that. This is just a little lap dance technique to tease the fact that we COULD have sex, if you so chose. But the control is all yours. Now keep working those hips, and … and give me a kiss.”

We snogged, our tongues wrestling with each other as I wiggled back and forth, partially impaled on his cock. I guessed that maybe an inch of it was now inside me, and I desperately hoped that these old men were telling the truth when they insisted it did not count as having sex.

“Can I have a turn?” asked Lionel hopefully. “That looks like a lot of fun!”

“I’m not sure you deserve it!” said GG sternly, after detaching his mouth from mine. He gave my breasts a squeeze, and smiled at me. “Some more practice with another man wouldn’t hurt, though. Perhaps you could give Freddie the same treatment?”

I was relieved to get up from his lap, and remove his erection from the entrance to my vagina. Freddie already had his cock out; it looked very firm and rigid. “Climb aboard!” he said happily.

“Did Wally go to bed?” I inquired. Wally might be the ugliest of the four old men I had been doing all this sexy stuff with, but he was sort of my favourite.

“He had to lie down,” said Lionel. “He often has to after dinner; it helps with his digestion.”

“I’m sure he would appreciate a visit later, if you’re willing,” GG added.

I nodded. Then I climbed on to Freddie’s armchair, squatting astride his lap … and I slowly lowered my vagina on to his cock. It felt weird and dirty and very risky to do this … yet there was an undeniable sense of adventure and excitement involved, too. As the swollen tip of his erection sank inside me, he gasped and closed his eyes, smiling rapturously. For a brief moment, a small part of me was tempted to let gravity win, and lower myself fully on to his cock, burying it deep inside me … but fortunately my wiser self held me back. That would be awful, and disastrous!

I put my arms around Freddie’s neck, and kissed him, while swaying and writhing to the music of … I was not sure who was singing the latest song, but it was a man, and judging by the lyrics I guessed that the song was called “Pretty Woman”. It was a good tune to undulate one’s hips to.

As I swayed, though I had not intended it, Freddie’s cock was gently sliding in and out of me. Only a little – the amplitude of the motion was only an inch or so – but at its deepest, his cock was perhaps a little further inside me than GG’s had been. I was still not feeling the resistance Lionel had spoken of, so I felt only a slight unease with this development; I just hoped he would give me some sign if he was getting close to cumming.

Then I became aware that Lionel was talking to me. “Robyn, I know I behaved badly before,” he was saying. “But please … please find it in your heart to forgive me. I’d so dearly love to have the treatment you’re giving Freddie!”

Freddie pulled his face away from mine. “I think perhaps you should,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “I fear I might ejaculate inside you if you keep this up.”

“Oh!” I said, lifting myself off his cock. “Thank you for the warning!”

“All right,” said GG, “I really think Lionel learned his lesson. If you’re willing, Robyn, perhaps you could forgive him, and give him a similar lap dance?”

“Okay…” I said reluctantly.

Lionel eagerly stripped off all of his clothes, and then sat expectantly, his eyes shining. GG passed him the Lubrigel, and he thoroughly lubed up the shaft and head of his erection. I sighed, then climbed on to the sofa, straddling his lap and lowering myself on to his cock. It slid inside me easily, and I had to stop myself from settling down too far. Then I began my swaying dance, and entwined my tongue with his.

I was getting desperately horny. I wanted to be doing this with Ethan! Lionel was a very poor substitute … but his cock nevertheless felt hot and hard and delicious inside me. I eased myself up and down, taking care not to go too deep … but I had a nasty feeling I was letting him in even deeper than Freddie had gone. Maybe it was just my imagination.

Lionel, however, was certainly getting excited. “Mmmph…” he moaned, putting his arms around my waist and holding me in place as he thrust his hips in time with my movements. He removed his lips from mine. “Robyn, you’re such a sweet girl…”

“Thank you,” I said, “but you’re making it hard for me to dance...”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Just let me give you a hug…” And he wrapped his arms tightly around me, giving me an embrace that pulled me down firmly on to his lap.

“Lionel!” I squealed in panic, feeling his cock sinking deep inside me. There was a brief moment of pressure, then a sudden give, which I guessed was my hymen breaking. Later research would lead me to reconsider this hypothesis, but there was absolutely no question about one inescapable fact: Lionel had just taken my virginity. “Oh my God!” I cried, struggling to free myself.

“Wait!” GG commanded. “Freeze, Robyn.”

I froze, still fully impaled on Lionel’s cock. It felt thick and hard inside me.

“Did it go all the way in?” GG asked.

“It did,” Lionel confessed. “I’m so sorry – I must have hugged her a little too hard…”

“Robyn,” said GG, “I know you must feel pretty horrified right now…”

“Yes!” I exclaimed.

“But this could be a blessing in disguise,” he continued. “Frankly, this solves a problem that was worrying me.”

“What problem??” I asked, almost hysterically.

“It was always going to be a terrible idea for you to lose your virginity to Ethan,” said GG calmly. “This shouldn’t come as a surprise. I’ve been trying to build up your experience, so that you can meet Ethan on a more equal footing. This will help with that process.”

“But I didn’t want to lose my virginity to some horrid old man!” I wailed tearfully. “I wanted my first time to be … beautiful!”

“It almost never is,” said GG. “That’s the harsh truth of it. And here’s another one: virginity is a pretty meaningless concept. People attach unwarranted value to first time you have sex. It doesn’t fundamentally change anything about you…”

“Can I get off Lionel please?” I begged him.

“No!” he said sharply. “The deed is done, and getting off him is not going to change that. But you need to hear this, Robyn, because it’s important knowledge.”

My shoulders slumped mournfully. “Go on,” I said in a subdued tone.

“Having sex for the first time doesn’t change you in any meaningful way,” GG went on. “Any more than seeing your first play does … or darning your first sock … or running your first mile. It’s just a first time for something you’ll be doing plenty more of. Will that make it memorable? Sure. Special? Not really. Wonderful? Definitely not. You’ll have much better sex than this! Everyone does. First times are notoriously disappointing. Now, if you had your heart set on a boy who was similarly inexperienced … I might be tempted to say ‘Go for it – be each other’s first time – experiment and learn together.’ That might be a recipe for disaster, but on the other hand it might be a nice bonding experience. Since Ethan is already experienced, however, it would be an awful idea for him to be your first time. It would reinforce, for him, the idea that you are just a conquest, and one of many. In short: losing your virginity to Lionel can only help your prospects with Ethan.”

I grimaced. He was making a horrible kind of sense. “You … you really think so…?”

“Honestly,” said GG, “I’d have suggested this very thing, if I hadn’t thought you’d react very badly to the idea. This has forced my hand, though … and I’m actually relieved. Your virginity was a stumbling block that we need no longer worry about. What you do next, however, is very important.”

“What do you mean?” I asked tonelessly.

“Well … you’re probably furious with Lionel right now,” said GG. “Not for the first time! But while his transgression earlier was appalling, and rightly condemned by everyone … this one was obviously an accident, and as I’ve explained, is actually a good thing for you. But it’s no good me just saying so. You’ve got to recognise it too, and believe it.”

“That’s a little hard for me to do!” I said unhappily.

“Of course,” said GG sympathetically. “That’s only natural. But this is why I couldn’t just let you get off Lionel’s knob. If you had, you’d have fled to a safe corner somewhere, descended into a pit of self-pity, and become overwhelmed with grief at your lost virginity. You would become angry, and depressed, and full of self-loathing, and hating Lionel, and me, and this place that you were forced to come to. Psychologically, you’d be a mess. Which is why you need to reset, now, and force yourself to see the silver lining around the cloud. You need to not just accept what just happened, but embrace it. Keeping Ethan in mind, and your plans to get him – which are now more likely to succeed than ever before – you need to not only forgive Lionel, but thank him.”



“Thank him!” I echoed.

“Yes!” GG insisted. “In order to heal from this, and make use of it, and benefit from it … you HAVE to let yourself see it as a good thing. Believe it or not, it’s not only the right thing to do; it’s the easy thing to do. Please trust me on this, Robyn. This is why I told you to freeze. With Lionel’s knob buried in you, just close your eyes, and allow yourself to enjoy the feeling. Will you try? Please? The alternative is too horrendous to contemplate: the undoing of all our hard work, and the implosion of your psychological balance and well-being. Please, Robyn. Close your eyes. Feel his cock in you. Savour it. Allow yourself to become aroused by it. I don’t believe this is an impossible task for you; I’m pretty sure that on some level your body is already enjoying it. Listen to that part of you, and let it become the dominant narrative.”

His eloquence and wisdom astounded me. He seemed to know exactly what I was feeling, the consequences of letting myself feel that way, and how to retrain my brain to feel a different way in order to avoid damage. It was truly remarkable.

That did not mean it was easy to follow his suggestion, though. I closed my eyes and tried to make myself feel good about the erect penis I could feel inside me … but the thought that it belonged to an ugly, disgusting old man kept coming back to yell at me. Nonetheless I kept trying, kept focusing on how it felt physically.

“Try slowly raising and lowering yourself,” GG suggested. “Feel it sliding in and out of you. That will help you to focus on the pleasure of it.”

I bit my lip, but began to follow his advice, slowly raising myself up so that Lionel’s erect penis gradually slid out of my vagina … and I badly wanted to keep going, and get off him entirely. But GG had so drummed into me that doing so would jeopardise my mental health, that I was afraid to risk such an action. Instead I let myself settle back down, and Lionel’s cock slid deep inside me once more. I repeated this movement, and again, and kept going as GG said, “Good, good! That’s it – keep it up.”

And – as I suspected would happen – GG was indeed proved correct. The more I bounced up and down on Lionel’s cock, the better it felt, and the more my feelings of despair and anguish faded into the background. After a minute or so, my loins were feeling very warm and tingly, and I began to bounce faster, following my body’s natural instincts, driven by my growing arousal. A wet slapping, squelching sort of sound coming from my pussy struck me as vaguely disconcerting, if not disgusting, but it did not deter me.

“Yes!” GG encouraged me. “Feeling a little better now? Keep it going – you’re doing wonderfully!”

I was getting genuinely excited now, and a moan escaped my lips. But then Lionel, clutching my shoulders, suddenly went rigid, groaning and gasping as his penis inside me seemed to enlarge and pulsate. Over and over I felt the strange sensation, like a warm rush deep in my vagina. In my aroused state it took me far longer than it should have to realise what had happened: he had cum inside me.

“Oh gosh!” I groaned, horrified. “He … he came! Inside me!”

“Yes, well, don’t worry about that,” said GG soothingly. “Old man sperm – very unlikely to cause any issues. The important thing is that you managed to bring him to a climax just by riding him – which is no mean feat! If you can do that with Ethan … that’ll certainly impress him!”

“You said I shouldn’t have sex with him though!” I panted, slowing my bouncing to a halt, and coming to rest with Lionel’s cock still buried inside me.

“Indeed you shouldn’t!” GG agreed. “The first time you’re alone with him. But sooner or later, the two of you will inevitably have sex … and when you do, the more proficient you are, the better it will be for your relationship. This, too, is great practice.”

“Can I get off him now…?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes!” said GG. “Of course. You’ve done brilliantly, Robyn. Would it be fair to say you’ve forgiven Lionel now?”

“I don’t know,” I said grumpily, getting up from Lionel’s lap. His wilted penis slipped out of me, along with some of his semen. “That did feel quite nice, but honestly I’m still reeling from the loss of my virginity.” I spotted a box of Kleenex on a nearby table, and pulled out a tissue.

“Well, I’m sure it doesn’t help that he climaxed, and you haven’t yet,” said GG. “If anyone deserves a spectacular orgasm at this point, it’s you. Would you like me to give you one? Or you could try Freddie, perhaps…?”

“I can manage myself, thanks,” I said, a little stiffly, while mopping up the semen that had leaked out of me.

“Hmm,” said GG, “I think perhaps you’re not quite ready to be alone with your resentful thoughts. I need you to unreservedly forgive Lionel … and not only that, but to be grateful to him for taking your virginity. If you’re not there yet, that’s fine, but it’s best if you don’t go off on your own right now. Let me give you a nice orgasm, Robyn. I did it before, and you seemed to like it. I know you’re feeling a lot of conflicting emotions at the moment; wouldn’t it be nice to just clear your mind of everything but pleasure for a few minutes? I promise, you’ll feel a lot better for it. Won’t you trust me?”

He was right – as usual. My thoughts and emotions were running riot, and a little peace from that sounded pretty good. “All right,” I said. I dropped my tissue into a waste paper basket that sat by the wall.

“How about you just sit down on my lap,” GG suggested, “facing away from me? I’ll reach between your legs, and give you a nice time.”

I came over to him, turned around, and began to sit down.

“Slowly!” he said.

I was just figuring out what he meant by this, when I suddenly felt something poking at the entrance to my vagina. “No, GG!” I said urgently.

“Oh hush,” he said. “What difference does it make now? But it’ll feel good to have something inside you while I rub you to orgasm. You can’t deny that having a cock in you feels somehow … fulfilling.”

While I hesitated, he positioned his cock, and then he grasped my hips and gently pulled my down on to his lap. His still-lubricated erection slid up inside me. “Oh no!” I groaned.

“Come now,” he whispered in my ear, as he slipped his hand between my legs and cupped my pussy. “You can’t say this doesn’t feel good…” And he began to stroke my clitoris, his fingers still somewhat slimy with gel. “Empty your mind. Focus on how this feels. Let your cares and worries drain away. Surrender to the pleasure…”

It was a relief to do so, in all honesty. I spread my thighs, leaned back against GG’s chest, and closed my eyes. My breathing grew heavier as delicious sensations emanated from my loins. My pulse became audible, thudding softly in my ears. I opened my mouth, beginning to pant. My arousal had never fully abated, and GG had very quickly reawakened it. Now I was feeling good … so good…

“You can bounce a little, if you like,” GG whispered.

I found I wanted to. I wanted to feel the thick shaft inside me thrusting in and out. But leaning back like this, with my feet dangling off the front of the couch, I had nothing to push against.

Acting on impulse, I lifted my knees and drew my feet up on to the couch, folding them back so they were next to my hips. Now in a kneeling position, I was able to use my thigh muscles to lift my bottom up, and set it back down. GG’s erection slid out of me, then back in. It felt very nice.

Soon I was bouncing again, just as hard and as fast as I had with Lionel. GG’s rubbing of my clitoris became less focused, more erratic, as his own excitement grew. But I barely cared; I was loving the feeling of his cock thrusting in me. For minute after minute I kept going, until my thighs were getting tired.

“AAAHHHHHH!!” GG groaned, and once again I felt a warm, pulsing sensation inside me. GG had climaxed … but I still was not yet done. I kept bouncing, my orgasm close but still elusive. Then GG renewed his attention to my clitoris, rubbing it hard and fast. My excitement rapidly intensified, and then peaked.

I cried out in a long, cathartic moan, shuddering as my climax finally hit with a vengeance. For the next few moments, bathing in my orgasmic high, I cared about nothing but this.

“Do you like sex?” GG whispered.

“Yes,” I gasped, my eyes still closed.

“Are you grateful to Lionel for taking your virginity?”

I barely hesitated. “Yes,” I replied breathlessly.

“Then thank him,” GG prompted me.

“Thank you Lionel,” I said, “for taking my virginity.”

“Good girl,” said GG with satisfaction. “This is a very encouraging sign. Now, let’s talk about Ethan.”

“Oh,” I said, opening my eyes. “Okay!”

“Now that you’ve had sex, and given hand-jobs and blowjobs,” GG continued, “I think perhaps you’re ready for a first encounter with the boy. You said he invited you to his house this weekend, yes?”

“He did,” I confirmed. “But then we switched it to today because…”

“Yes, I know,” said GG. “But his original plans for Saturday have likely not changed, and I’m guessing he’d still like you to be there if possible.”

“But it’s not,” I said, puzzled. “Not unless our trip to Egypt gets miraculously cancelled.”

“Or,” said GG cunningly, “if the rest of your family goes, but you stay behind.”

“What??” I gasped. “I don’t want to stay behind, though! I’d like to go to Egypt!”

“Even if it means missing an opportunity to spend time with Ethan?” GG inquired. “Think about it, Robyn. He invited you to his house for a reason. Clearly he’s thinking of either cheating on his girlfriend with you, or dumping her so that he can have guilt-free fun with you. Either way, he’s up for some hanky-panky with someone other than Little Miss Zandyfloss. And if he’s getting together with some friends on Saturday, and you’re not there … it’s entirely possible he might find another girl to satisfy his needs. Your window of opportunity might vanish before you get back from Egypt.”

“Oh no!” I said, aghast at the thought.

“But what if you stayed behind, and went to his house on Saturday?” GG went on. “You’ve already primed him brilliantly for your next encounter. If you show up to his house, his hormones will immediately go into overdrive. He’ll do whatever he has to, to get you alone. And then … that’s where you put into practice what you’ve learned here.”

It was certainly a tempting idea. I had been looking forward to seeing Egypt, but it could not really compare with getting Ethan to be my boyfriend. “How do we manage it, though?” I asked. “Dad won’t let me stay behind.”

“He might,” said GG, “if we sell the idea to him well enough.”

“What could possibly persuade him to leave me behind?” I asked, bemused. “He knows I’m dying to see Ethan. He’ll suspect that immediately.”

But GG, it turned out, had a plan … and when he explained it to me, I realised it might actually work. Afterwards, I finally climbed off his lap, and his softened cock slipped out of me. Again, I grabbed a tissue and mopped up between my legs.

“Okay,” said GG, tucking his penis away. “Let’s show you to your room.”

“Don’t I get some nookie…?” asked Freddie hopefully. I shuddered. I really hoped GG was not going to expect me to have sex with all of his friends now.

“Have some empathy!” GG admonished him. “The poor girl just had her first time. Give her a chance to recover.”

“Thanks,” I said gratefully. “Sorry Freddie.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” he grumbled. “If you’re not going to Egypt, though … maybe tomorrow…?”

“Tomorrow I’m going home!” I said firmly. “No offence, Freddie – I’ve had an interesting experience here and made some new friends … but I’m not spending the next two weeks here!”

“Maybe before you go home, then…?” Freddie ventured.

“There should be enough time in the morning, before her dad arrives,” said GG. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to use you for sex practice.”

My jaw dropped. Had GG really just offered me to Freddie for sex? That was outrageous! But … something kept me from voicing an objection. It was a feeling of uncertainty … a gnawing concern that perhaps I had lost my right to complain about such treatment by going along with everything that had happened so far. After all, I had just willingly had sex with two men – one of whom was my own great-grandfather – and I had already had Freddie’s cock partially inside me. In that context, was Freddie’s request really out of line? Was it, perhaps, inevitable? And was GG’s offer really an offer…? Or was it just speculation? Perhaps I had overreacted a bit.

“Jolly good!” said Freddie happily. He certainly seemed to have taken it as more than mere speculation.

I followed GG out of the common room and slowly along the corridor. We passed his room, and several others, before coming to a door that was helpfully labelled ‘Guest Room’. Inside, it was very similar to GG’s room, or a mirror image thereof.

“All yours,” said GG. “And since you’ve been through a lot today, the rest of the evening is yours, to do with as you wish. No more seduction training, no more quiz questions, no more public nudity … unless you choose to leave your room for some reason. There’s a TV, but not much else to do I’m afraid. If you do want company, you know you’d be very welcome in the common room, for as long as there are still people there. Go to bed whenever you like … but you should probably get up by seven o’clock, so we can enact our plan. There’s an alarm clock if you need it.”

“Thanks, GG!” The prospect of having some time to myself was a very welcome one. “But, um, are there any toiletries…? A toothbrush? Toothpaste?”

“All in the bathroom,” said GG. “If there’s something you need that isn’t there, use the phone to call the front desk. Melly’s on the night shift … oh. You haven’t met Melly yet, have you? More importantly, she hasn’t met you. I don’t know if Sheila explained…”

“Uh oh,” I said. “Well … perhaps now would be a good time to get my clothes back…?”

GG grinned. “Not necessary,” he said. “I’ll go and talk to her. If it seems likely that she’ll make a fuss about your nudity, then we’ll just keep you out of her way.”

“GG,” I said uneasily, “when AM I going to get my clothes back? First thing tomorrow?”

“Well, there’s no hurry, is there?” he replied airily. “Your dad will let us know when he leaves; we can time it so you’re dressed when he arrives.”

“I don’t like the idea of cutting it so close,” I grumbled.

“Trust me!” said GG soothingly. “We’ll have you perfectly decent when he arrives.”

I sighed. “Fine,” I said. “I suppose I’ll just have to sleep naked then. I hope I don’t get cold.”

“You’ll find extra blankets in the wardrobe,” said GG helpfully.

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

He left the room, and I climbed on to the bed and switched on the television. While I was channel-hopping, there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” I said, covering my breasts and pussy in case it was someone new.

But it was GG. “Melly’s taken care of,” he said. “She won’t cause trouble if she sees you naked.”

I pursed my lips, but nodded. “Thanks.”

“I’ll bid you goodnight, then,” he said. “Oh … perhaps you could say goodnight to Wally, though?”

“Oh yes!” I said. “I will.”

He grinned. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, GG,” I said.

After he had closed the door, I decided to check it out the little bathroom area and the toiletries that had been provided for me. There was a new toothbrush, still in its packaging, and a small unopened tube of Crest toothpaste. I brushed my teeth while perusing the other items: soap, shampoo, conditioner, a very basic makeup kit, a comb (but no hairbrush), and some nail clippers. On another shelf I found a pumice stone, a sponge, a bottle of body wash, a women’s shaving kit, and some dental floss. I hoped there was a hairdryer somewhere; I could find none in here.

Peeking out of my doorway, I could see nobody in the corridor, so I left my room and trotted on tiptoe to Wally’s room. I knocked on the door, and listened.

“Come in!”

I entered, and smiled at the old man in his bed. “Hi Wally.”

“Robyn!” he said, struggling to sit up. “How nice to see you!”

“I just came to say goodnight,” I said. “I missed you in the common room.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Wally. “I suffer a bit with my stomach. Lying down helps.”

“Then please, lie down!” I told him. “You don’t need to sit up just for me.”

“Oh I don’t mind,” said Wally. “But maybe could you help me sort these pillows out, please…?”

“Of course!” I said, walking over to the bed. I helped him prop up all three of his pillows to form a steep incline against which he could rest his back while in a sitting position. Then I helped him shuffle back against them.

“You’re very kind,” he said. “Bernie tells me you have a plan to see that boy you like. Is that true?”

“Yes!” I said. “We still have to persuade my dad to let me stay behind when he and Mum go to Egypt. I’m a little sad about missing out on that holiday, actually. But GG thinks I ought to go and see Ethan this weekend if I don’t want to lose him to another girl.”

“Well that’ll be nice, won’t it?” said Wally. “You’ve been dying to see him.”

“Yes!” I agreed. “I’m a little nervous about it, but I think GG’s prepared me fairly well.”

Wally nodded. “I’m a little concerned about that,” he said. “About the way he’s ‘training’ you. I worry he’s taking advantage of your youth and inexperience.”

“Well he’s fixing my inexperience by giving me experience!” I said. “He can’t fix my age, but I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

“Oh I’m sure, I’m sure,” said Wally. “I didn’t mean to offend. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I smiled at him affectionately. “Thank you Wally,” I said. Then I noticed something on his bedside table. “Is that GG’s Lubrigel?”

“Yes,” said Wally. “He stopped in here just before you did, and put it there. He said ‘Just in case’, whatever that means.”

“That rascal!” I exclaimed.

“You don’t need to give me a hand-job, if that’s what he meant,” Wally assured me. “You did that already, and I still feel badly about making a mess on your face.”

“Oh Wally, that was nothing,” I said dismissively. “You were an absolute gentleman compared with Lionel. But in any case, I don’t think a hand-job was what GG had in mind.”

“What do you mean?” Wally asked.

I sighed. “You’ll find out sooner or later,” I said. “The fact is … I had sex this evening, for the first time … with Lionel.”

“What? That scoundrel!” Wally cried, attempting to get out of bed. “How dare he! I’ll give him what for!”

“Calm down, Wally!” I said, holding him back. “It wasn’t that bad. It was a bit of an accident … at first. But GG made some very good points, about how things would go with Ethan if I was still a virgin, and so on. At first I was upset about losing my virginity to Lionel, but I really do think it was sort of necessary for me. And … after I had sex with Lionel, I had sex with GG too…”

“What??” Wally gasped. “Your own great-grandfather?”

“I know, I know!” I said defensively. “But like he said, genetically we’re only as close as second-cousins…”

Wally shook his head in bewilderment. “You’re really … okay with all that?”

“Yeah,” I said, not entirely confidently. I grimaced. “I sort of have to be. It’s either be okay with it, embrace it, learn from it, and stuff … or let myself get all miserable and depressed about it. And I don’t think that would be very healthy. I just need to accept that it happened, and I’m no longer a virgin. It’s fine. I just … I just wish it had been someone other than Lionel, you know?”

“I can imagine!” said Wally sympathetically. “Your first time really ought to have been with some young chap, not an old fart like him!”

I smiled. “It’s not his age that bothered me so much,” I said. “It’s his earlier behaviour…”

“Ah yes,” Wally agreed. “He didn’t deserve such an honour!”

“Exactly,” I said. “At least, I don’t know about ‘honour’…”

“I do,” said Wally firmly. “An honour, and a privilege! To be such a sweet and beautiful young woman’s first time? Wonderful! An honour I wish Lionel had not had … but I suppose it cannot be helped. What matters is that you’re all right.”

I leaned over him, and gave him a hug. “Thank you Wally,” I said. “I wish it had been you instead! I’d have felt better about that.”

“Oh!” said Wally, a little flustered. “Oh my. Well I’m sure I don’t deserve such an honour either … but thank you.”

“You deserve it more than Lionel!” I said. I looked at the bottle of gel. “I … I’m guessing GG was intending for us to … you know…”

Wally stared at me. “Robyn, no,” he said. “I don’t want you having sex with me just to ‘even things up’, or something like that.”

I smiled, and nodded. “Thank you Wally,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind, really … but after Lionel and GG, the thought of having another penis inside me right now is making me feel a little queasy. It did feel good at the time … but I really didn’t want to do it, and I feel like I was … talked into it, I suppose. And now, remembering it, I feel rather used, and gross.”

“I’m sure!” said Wally, patting my hand. “Poor thing. It wouldn’t surprise me if it hasn’t put you off sex for life!”

“Oh, I hope not!” I said, shocked. “You really think that’s possible? I don’t want that!”

“I’m sorry,” said Wally hastily. “I’m sure I’m wrong.”

But now that the thought had entered my head, I could not shake it. “Wally, what if the time comes to have sex with Ethan, and I can’t do it because I’m so traumatised by the memory of doing it with Lionel and GG?”

“I’m sure that won’t happen,” he said.

I picked up the bottle, having made up my mind. “Wally, can I have sex with you please?”

“What…?” he gasped.

“I don’t want to make a habit of it,” I added. “I just feel like I need to have a good experience to counteract the bad. I need to have sex that is my own choice, and not where I’m being pushed into it by someone. Please?”

He said nothing for a moment, but I could tell he was tempted. I pulled back his bedclothes, uncovering his pyjama-clad loins. I placed my hand on his crotch, and felt the hard ridge of his erect penis. “I … I think you like the idea,” I said bravely.

“Robyn, you don’t have to do this,” he said softly.

“I want to,” I told him determinedly. “I think I need to. Otherwise when I look back on today, the only memories I’ll have will be the bad ones. Let me have a good one.”

“I’ll try to make it as good as possible,” said Wally. “But, you know, it’s been years … I’m not the man I used to be.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I don’t need you to do anything except be the nice man you are. Just lie there and enjoy it. Can you lift your bottom up?”

He did, and I pulled his pyjama bottoms down. Then I squirted a little of the lube – not much! – into my hand, and began rubbing it up and down the shaft of his cock, and all over its head. He looked at me, eyes wide with anticipation, while I climbed on to his bed and straddled him. Then I took hold of his cock and lowered myself down, guiding it into my vagina. It penetrated me, and sank deep, as I settled myself down upon him.

“Aaaahhh!” said Wally, closing his eyes. “This is heaven…”

“Not yet it isn’t!” I told him playfully, as I started raising and lowering myself. “Stay with me Wally. I don’t want you flying up to the Pearly Gates just yet!”

Wally laughed breathlessly. “I’ll do my best!” he said. Then he smiled beatifically as I settled into a steady rhythm, bouncing up and down, his well-lubricated cock sliding in and out of my vagina.

It did feel nice. And all the nicer for the fact that the man inside me was a decent chap. I sighed contentedly as I let myself enjoy the pleasant sensations coming from my pussy, knowing I was doing a nice thing for someone I liked. Yes, he was quite impressively ugly, but at the moment that did not matter. I was not planning to marry the man, or have a long-term relationship with him. I was just letting him enjoy my body, while I enjoyed a perfectly adequate and functional part of his.

“Can I … try being on top?” Wally asked tentatively.

I opened my eyes in surprise. “Oh!” I said. “Are you, um … are you sure you can … manage?”

“I think so,” said Wally. “If it turns out I can’t, then I apologise in advance … but I’d like to give it a go, if you’re willing.”

“Sure,” I said generously. Giving up control like this was not something I would have been willing to do for Lionel … but since this was Wally…

I lifted myself off him, and he shuffled to his right a bit. I lay down on my back next to him, and then waited patiently, prepared to help him if necessary. Fortunately he needed no assistance, though he grunted and creaked a bit as he turned himself over and climbed on top of me. I spread my legs, and smiled up at him.

With some difficulty, he managed to hold himself up on his right elbow as he used his left hand to guide his cock to my vagina. Then he slid easily into me, put his left elbow down next to my arm, and began thrusting his penis inside me with a slow, gentle rhythm. After half a minute, I was just thinking to myself that I would like it harder and faster, when he groaned, and shuddered. I felt that little rush of warmth inside me, that told me he had just ejaculated, and again I found myself hoping GG was right about old men’s sperm. But with my phone still in my dad’s custody, I could not even look that up. Perhaps I could use GG’s tablet. I decided to ask him tomorrow.

“Can I have a kiss?” Wally asked hopefully.

“Of course,” I replied, and I put my arms around his neck. We kissed, and he thoroughly explored my mouth with his tongue. He also drooled a lot, and I had to swallow several times.

After a minute or so, he broke off, panting. Then, with a little effort, he rolled off me, his soft penis slipping out as he did so. Lying next to me, he said, “Robyn, I have no right to ask this, but … would you mind lying next to me for a while? It’s been so long since I had a woman in bed with me…”

“I can do that,” I said, and I turned on my side, facing away from him, so that he could cuddle up to my back. “I can’t believe I’ve had sex with three men now. And I was a virgin just an hour ago! I wonder how many sex partners Ethan has had…”

“Now I feel awful,” said Wally sadly, “for taking part in the defiling of your sweet innocent body.” He pulled the bedclothes over us both.

“Don’t be silly,” I told him. “You’re the only one whose conscience should be clear. It was Lionel that did the defiling, and before I’d recovered from that, GG defiled me too. If you can call it that.” I sighed. “I did enjoy it, I suppose. And I’m sure it was probably a good thing for me to do. But I still feel gross about it.”

“You poor thing,” said Wally, putting his hand on my bare hip. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be!” I told him firmly. “Having sex with you was my choice, and the only part of this I don’t regret. You can put your arm around me if you like.”

“Thank you,” he said, putting his arm around my waist. I could feel his softened cock between my buttocks. “You’ve been extraordinarily kind to a lonely old man, Robyn. But I’ve imposed on your generosity enough; feel free to go back to your room whenever you like.”

“I don’t mind staying here a little longer,” I told him. “I’m comfortable.”

“Okay,” he said. “Well I certainly won’t complain if you want to stay the night! Leave whenever you want. But if you could just reach the light switch on my bedside table, I’d be grateful.”

I could, as it happened, and I plunged us into semi-darkness. “Goodnight Wally,” I said.

“Goodnight, Robyn,” he replied.

I could never have imagined, even just a day ago, that I would be falling asleep tonight naked in bed with an elderly man, and feeling quite safe doing so, despite the fact that I could feel his cock between my buttocks and nudging up against the entrance to my vagina. Yet here I was, very relaxed, listening to the slow, slightly raspy breathing of the 87-year-old man cuddling me from behind.

The next thing I knew, it was morning. It took me a moment to remember where I was, and at first I was inclined to leap out of bed in a panic. What had I been thinking last night? How could I have had sex with three old men – including my own great-grandfather? How could I have spent the night with one of them? Sure, Wally was nice … but how could I have sex with him?

The puzzle pieces began slotting back into place. The accidental penetration by Lionel. GG’s speech, and the delicious orgasm I’d had while impaled on his cock. Wally’s kind words, and his obvious loneliness. The feeling that I’d much rather have lost my virginity to him rather than Lionel.

I sighed. It did all make a twisted kind of sense. No, I did not regret having sex with Wally. In fact … was he … hard?

I realised I could feel his erection pressing between my legs. Was he … rubbing it against me…?

“Wally?” I said. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” he croaked, before clearing his throat. “Yes – I woke up just a few minutes ago.”

The subtle rubbing had stopped. I was very aware of his hardness, however, and certain he was dying to put it inside me again. How did I feel about that?

Ambivalent, I decided. I had intended for last night to be a one-off, but since I was still in his bed and he was ready to go again, there did not seem to be any harm in it. Indeed, getting out of bed now would seem almost cruel, under the circumstances. “Is there something you’d like to ask me, Wally?” I inquired.

“I … I shouldn’t,” he replied. “You’ve been so generous already; I can ask no more of you.”

“Wally, I enjoyed it too, you know,” I told him, a little grumpily. “If you want to stick it in me again, just ask.”

“I’d love to,” he said.

I reached for the bottle, squirted some lube into my hand, and put my hand under the covers, sticking it between my thighs. I smeared the slimy stuff over my pussy and vaginal opening, and the tip of his cock. “That should do it,” I said.

I felt him push his cock against me, missing at first, but then sliding neatly into place. As his shaft sank inside me, I could not help gasping a little. It did feel good.

With his hand on my right hip, he began thrusting, and I smiled contentedly at the now familiar and rather pleasant sensation of being gently fucked. After a couple of minutes, though, I was itching for more. “Can you maybe go a bit faster?” I asked him tentatively.

“Oh!” he said. “Of course.” And he did go faster … but his grunts of effort soon had me concerned about his elderly heart.

“If this is too much for you, slow down,” I told him.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, fucking me with as much vigour as he could muster, no doubt. “I’m okay.”

But he was slowing down, and I could tell he was struggling. “Why don’t you take a break?” I suggested. “I can get on top for a bit.”

He paused, panting. “I … that’s a nice offer, thank you,” he said. “But I really prefer being on top – if you don’t mind. Let me just get my breath back…”

“Okay,” I said.

Five minutes later, his breathing had returned to normal, but unfortunately, so had his cock. “Do you mind if I uncover you…?” he asked apologetically. “It would help me, um…”

“Sure,” I said with a shrug. Being naked in front of him was no longer a novelty. I turned on to my back as he drew back the covers. Then he pulled my knees apart, and stared hungrily at my exposed intimate parts.

“Oohh,” he said, his cock growing by the second. “You’re so beautiful, Robyn…”

“Thank you,” I said uncomfortably.

When he was fully erect, he lay down on top of me, and guided his cock into my vagina, groaning with pleasure as he sank deep. Then, resting on his elbows, he began thrusting. A couple of minutes later, although the sensations were quite nice, his slow pace was getting a little frustrating. I was concerned for his heart, however, so I did not ask him to speed up.

An abrupt and urgent knocking on the door made me jump. “Wally!” came GG’s voice, sounding frantic. “Robyn’s gone missing! Have you seen her?”

“She’s in here!” Wally called.

The door burst open, and GG hobbled in, followed by Lionel. “Oh thank goodness!” said GG, looking very relieved. “Hello Robyn. And well done Wally!”

“Do you mind…?” said Wally irritably.

“Oh don’t be so shy,” said GG dismissively. “If Robyn can endure being naked in front of us, so can you.” I noticed he was clutching his tablet.

“Being naked is one thing,” Wally grumbled. “Having sex in front of other people is another.”

“Robyn had sex with Lionel yesterday in the common room!” said GG. “And then with me. Don’t mind us – just carry on. Nice to see you’re still here and okay, Robyn. I’m very happy you decided to have sex with Wally.”

“This is actually our second time,” said Wally, rather proudly. “She spent the night with me!”

“Is that so?” said GG in surprise.

“You lucky dog!” said Lionel, impressed.

I was feeling very embarrassed. “He’s a very nice man!” I said. “I felt he deserved it.”

GG nodded. “You’re not wrong,” he said. “I’m very happy for you, Wally.” He watched Wally’s slow thrusts with a critical eye. “You won’t satisfy her like that, though. Give her a good pounding!”

“I’m worried about his heart,” I said quickly. “He doesn’t need to go any faster.”

“Uhhhhh!!!” Wally gasped, and I felt his semen spurting inside me. Then he collapsed on top of me.

“Good job Wally!” said Lionel. “Now move over and let a pro finish her off.”

“Give over, you old bugger,” Wally wheezed. “Give the girl a break.”

GG came over to the bed. “Did you get to cum, Robyn?”

“Well no,” I admitted, “but it’s okay…”

“Nonsense!” said GG. “You deserve an orgasm just as much as Wally. More, even! And Lionel’s been feeling badly about the fact that he got to climax inside you yesterday but didn’t take care of you in the process. Why don’t you let him make amends, by giving you the orgasm you need?”

“I don’t want any help with that from Lionel,” I muttered sullenly.

“Ah, you’re still upset with him,” said GG, nodding. “You do want an orgasm, though, yes?”

I shrugged, not meeting him in the eye.

“I thought so,” he said. “Look, I understand why you’re not happy with Lionel. He got carried away with the blowjob, and he accidentally took your virginity. But the fact is … he’s still the man who took your virginity! And while that doesn’t accord him any special rights or privileges, it puts him in a place of significance in your life, whether you like it or not. You said you forgave him, and you thanked him for taking your virginity … but it’s clear those were just words. Trust me, you don’t want to move forward with your life, hating the man who was your first time. You owe it to yourself to make peace with him, to give him another chance to make it up to you, and to be open to the possibility of coming out of this with warm, positive feelings about him. That’ll be more healthy for you, and certainly it’ll be better for Lionel, who’s been feeling quite depressed about how he’s failed you so far.”

“You have, Lionel?” I asked, a little sceptically.

“Oh yes,” he replied. “I feel awful about what happened yesterday. I’d love an opportunity to do something nice for you.”

“Then buy me flowers!” I said grumpily. “I don’t know why it has to be about giving me an orgasm.”

“Because that’s the way in which he failed you before,” said GG patiently. “The best day to dull the memory of a bad experience is to follow it up with a good experience. I think perhaps you’ve already done that with Wally … which is great in that it will help you feel better about sex in general … but since Lionel wasn’t involved in that follow-up, it doesn’t help your memories of him.”

“Oh Bernie, you’re just trying to sweet-talk her into having sex with that lecherous old reprobate,” Wally grumbled, as he climbed off me and pulled the bedclothes back over us both. His semen began to leak from my vagina.

I could have kissed him. “Thanks Wally,” I said softly. I was grateful for his support.

“That’s true,” GG acknowledged, “but why? I gain nothing from it myself. The fact is, and I think you know this: I’m right. Robyn, you’re a clever girl, and I think you understand what I’m talking about. In your head is some lingering resentment and anger towards Lionel, and you’ll carry that with you for years, if you’re not careful. A nice experience with him now will be very healing for you.”

I pouted. I very much did not want to give Lionel any more chances with me, but once again, GG was making a lot of sense. I did not want him to be right, but it seemed very likely that he was. “I … I suppose…”

Wally put his hand on my shoulder. “No, Robyn,” he said. “You don’t have to do anything with Lionel. You’re under no obligation at all. You owe him nothing.”

“That’s true,” said GG quickly, “but you’re missing the point, Wally. And since I brought you the lube which helped earn you a night with my lovely great-granddaughter, I’d think you’d be a little more grateful, and not undermine me here. I’m sure you’re feeling rather jealous, and not inclined to share…”

“That’s not it at all!” Wally protested.

“Uh-huh,” said GG, smirking a little. “I don’t blame you a bit, Wally, but my goal here is to do what’s best for Robyn. And as weird and counterintuitive as it may seem, that’s having some great sex with Lionel.”

“Ugh,” said Wally. “I find that hard to swallow, Bernie.”

“Of course,” GG acknowledged. “As I said: counterintuitive. But I’m right on this. Robyn, if you trust my judgment at all, please give me the benefit of the doubt here.”

“All right,” I said reluctantly.

Wally shook his head sorrowfully. “It’s your decision, Robyn, but…”

“Move over, Wally!” said Lionel, pulling his trousers down.

“You’re not using my bed for this!” said Wally. “Use your own!”

“Fair enough,” said Lionel with a shrug. “Come on, Robyn.”

“Bye Wally,” I said, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. “Thank you for being so nice.”

He smiled fondly at me. “Don’t let them take advantage of you, Robyn,” he said.

I bit my lip. “It’s a little late for that,” I said. “They’ve both had sex with me already. What else is there to do?”

“Just be careful,” he said.

“I will,” I assured him. But I was not sure what he wanted me to be careful of. If this was all a grand plan to seduce me, then it had worked; I had already fallen for it. If Lionel fucked me twice instead of just once, what did it really matter?

I was not an idiot. Obviously these horny old men were having a lot of fun at my expense. But that did not mean I was not benefitting too. I really believed that GG was right about all of this helping me to get Ethan. I was becoming experienced, and this would help me impress Ethan, I was sure.

Naked and with semen running down my thigh, I followed Lionel and GG to Lionel’s room. GG had brought the Lubrigel, and as I climbed on to the bed, he squirted some of it into Lionel’s hand. “There you go,” he said. “Have fun!” Then he switched on his tablet, and tapped in his passcode.

Lionel lubed up his erect cock, and then he approached me with a wide-eyed leer. Reaching between my legs, he slathered lube all over my pussy, and down around my vaginal entrance. Then he slipped a couple of fingers inside me, and chuckled as he thrust them in and out. “What a lovely girl you are,” he murmured.

Then he climbed on top of me, pushing my knees wide apart. Lying down slowly, he positioned his cock carefully, then thrust forward. The swollen head of his penis penetrated me, and then he sank his full length inside me. My stomach cramped in disgust.

But as he fucked me – harder than Wally had – my body inevitably started to respond. I closed my eyes, wrapped my legs around Lionel’s back, and enjoyed the warm tingling in my loins. If he kept this up, I would surely reach my orgasm.

“Uhhhhhh!!!” he groaned, his cock pulsing and spurting inside me.

“You came already?” I asked in dismay.

“Sorry,” he panted. “It felt so good!”

“Dear oh dear, Lionel!” said GG reproachfully. “You couldn’t hold out longer than that?” From the way he was holding his tablet, I realised he had been filming us.

“I tried!” said Lionel.

“Move over, then,” said GG, putting the tablet down. “Goodness me. If you want someone done, you have to do it yourself. Don’t worry, Robyn – I won’t leave you hanging.” He unbuckled his belt.

“GG, you don’t need to…” I began, wanting an orgasm but very much not wanting another old man to pump more sperm into me.

“Please, I insist,” he said. “You deserve your orgasm!”

I did want an orgasm. But, “Can’t you just use your fingers…?” I asked him desperately.

“I could,” he acknowledged. “But that’s not very fair to me, is it? Seeing you having sexual with Wally and Lionel has got me all hard and excited. You wouldn’t want to leave ME, hanging, would you? When I’m giving you your much-needed relief?” As if this was a rhetorical question, he pulled his trousers down, and stepped out of them.

Lionel climbed off me, and I propped myself up on my elbows. “Couldn’t I use my hand on you?” I asked GG hopefully. “I … I think I need more practice at that.”

“Your hand-jobs are perfectly fine,” he assured me. He climbed on top of me, and grinned down at me. “I think I’ll go in dry. You seem to be lubricated enough for us both!” Then he guided his cock into me, and sure enough, it slid in easily.

I felt a little numb as he fucked me with disgusting wet sloppy sounds. Why was I letting him do this? Why had I not even closed my legs before he climbed on to me?

The answer, of course, was that there seemed little point in trying to resist. He was too persuasive; he would present a perfectly reasonable-sounding argument, and convince me that it was in my best interests. And he was probably right, though at the moment I was feeling rather dirty and used.

“I’m just going for a slash,” said Lionel, pulling up his trousers and heading for the door.

GG continued thrusting, silent except for his panting and the squelch, squelch, squelch of his cock in my very wet and gooey vagina. I was fairly aroused, but not getting any more so, and since he did not seem to be approaching orgasm either, I was beginning to feel inadequate.

“Is it me?” I asked nervously. “Should I be … doing something?”

“You could try gripping me a little harder – you know, with your vagina,” GG suggested, “but honestly, I think it’s just that you’re so moist down there now, and there’s too little friction. But that’s certainly not your fault. Much as I love having sex with my beautiful great-granddaughter, I’m not all that keen on ‘sloppy thirds’. But I have an idea. Can you get on your hands and knees?”

“I suppose so,” I said, curious what this would feel like. “I even know what that’s called. ‘Doggy-style’, right?”

“Exactly,” said GG, pulling out of me and kneeling up. His erection was dripping with a glistening mixture of lube and semen – and my own juices, no doubt

I turned myself over, and assumed the position, shivering a little in anticipation of the feeling of his cock re-entering my vagina. But then I gasped in shock, as I felt a soft pressure against another orifice…

“GG!” I said anxiously. “Not there!”

“Why not?” he inquired. “Ethan will want to do this; most men love it. If you want to be cool about it, and not freak out, you’d be best trying it here and now, in a safe environment. Plus, there are two advantages to anal sex in this position.”

“What??” I asked.

“First, it’ll be tighter, and your bottom is not going to be as wet, so I’ll be able to climax faster,” said GG. “Second, I can do this…” And he reached around me, tucking his hand beneath my pussy. Finding my clitoris, he began rubbing it gently.

“Aahhh,” I gasped. Then, “GG!” as he resumed pushing his cock against my anus.

“Don’t fight it!” he warned me. “If you clench, it’ll hurt. The trick is to relax – which is hard, I know – just think of it like doing a Number Two in reverse. Strain a bit, you know … as if you’re pushing something out. Only, of course, not quite that hard – we wouldn’t want an accident!” Then he began pushing again.

“GG!” I whimpered. “I don’t want this…”

“Ethan will want it, though!” said GG firmly. “You need to be prepared for what it will be like. Relax your anus, my dear. Fully relaxed. There you go…”

I bit my lip, and tears came to my eyes, as my anus slowly expanded around his engorged cock. Then it sank smoothly inside my bottom, sinking deep, until his hips pressed against my buttocks. I gulped.

“Ohh yes…” I heard him say, almost rapturously, as he began thrusting inside my rectum. At the same time, his fingers rapidly rubbed against my pussy, giving particular attention to my clitoris.

My brain was struggling to process the conflicting sensations. On the one hand, the anal fucking felt horribly dirty and disgusting and humiliating. On the other, the pussy rubbing felt very nice indeed, and my arousal was rapidly escalating.

Two minutes later, a strange thing was happening. The thrusting in my anus – which had been tight and rather painful at first – was becoming weirdly comfortable … almost pleasant. Now that he had fully lubed the insides of my rectum, his cock was sliding in and out very smoothly, and the rhythm of it, and the gentle kinky massage of my sphincter, had become oddly relaxing. It did not exactly feel erotic – not like a vaginal fucking – but GG’s fingers were taking care of that aspect. Indeed, I was rapidly approaching a climax.

“Ahhh … ahhhh…” GG gasped. Then he suddenly pulled out of my anus entirely, and slid his cock deep into my vagina, in which he thrust very hard and fast for a few seconds. This was enough to send me over the edge, and I shuddered and cried out in ecstasy, my whole body aflame with orgasmic pleasure. At the same time GG groaned and began pumping his semen into me. “Yes, take it,” he panted. “Take it all, Robyn.”

Seconds later I collapsed on my front, breathing heavily. GG lay on top of me, exhausted, and we remained almost motionless for over a minute. Then he pulled out of my vagina, slid off me, and lay next to me, facing me with a slightly manic grin on his face. “Turn to face me,” he said.

I turned on to my side, and he shuffled in closer, and took hold of my knee, lifting my thigh over his hip. Pressing his wilting cock against my pussy, he easily slipped it into my soggy, dripping vagina. “How did you like that?” he whispered. “Good, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose,” I murmured. “Gross, though.”

“Yes, it was filthy and disgusting, wasn’t it?” he said gleefully. “And you liked it anyway, didn’t you? Give me a kiss, Robyn.” He planted his lips against mine, and as our tongues played with each other, he began gently stroking my pussy with his fingers.

“Ahhh … no more,” I whispered, my eyes closed, my breathing ragged.

“Admit it,” he hissed in my ear. “Admit you like having filthy, raunchy sex with your great-grandfather.”

I hated to admit such a thing, but my orgasm had been mind-numbingly powerful, and I could not deny that I had enjoyed it a lot. “It’s all right,” I conceded.

“Just all right?” he said with a low chuckle. “Be honest, Robyn – that was some great sex. I want to hear you admit that. I want you to admit that you loved it.”

“All right, I loved it,” I admitted grudgingly. “It was really good.”

“Say it!” he pressed me. “Say you love having dirty, filthy sex with your great-grandad.”

His fingers were working some kind of weird magic on me … or so it seemed. Despite my recent orgasm, I felt myself getting closer and closer to another. “Okay!” I gasped. “I love having filthy sex with my great-grandad.”

“Say you loved me taking you up the arse,” he urged me, his fingers working frantically.

“I loved it!” I moaned. “I loved feeling you inside my arse.”

“And you loved feeling me cum in your vagina.”

“I love it when you cum in my vagina!” I gasped. “I can feel it when it happens … it feels warm and nice…”

“Does it indeed?” said GG. “Good. So you’ll be wanting me to do it again, yes?”

I sensed a trap, but at that moment I honestly did not mind the thought of having sex with him again. What would one more time matter? “Yes,” I replied breathlessly. “I’d like that.”

“How about with Wally? Would you like to have sex with him again too?”

“Yes!” I said, more confidently. If GG was going to get to fuck me again, Wally deserved to as well.

GG began thrusting inside me as he rubbed my clit. “And Lionel? You can’t leave him out…”

I was panting, my eyes closed, getting closer and closer to my climax. “I … I suppose so…” I said, feeling generous in the moment.

“Obviously not while you’re in a relationship with Ethan,” GG panted. “I wouldn’t ask you to betray his trust. But until you’re officially his girlfriend, promise me you’ll have sex with me and my friends whenever you come and visit.”

This was an outrageous thing for him to ask me to promise, but I was not thinking very clearly. All I was thinking in that moment was that I would be off the hook as soon as I became Ethan’s girlfriend … which might happen very soon … and also that this promise did not commit me to visiting GG again anytime soon … or indeed ever.

“I promise,” I gasped.

“And you’ll stay naked the entire duration of every visit?” GG pressed me, while strumming my clit with a delicious intensity. “You know we all love to see you naked…”

“Okay!” I moaned.

“Promise!” he insisted.

“I promise!”

“Oh my goodness!” said a voice from the doorway.

GG stopped both thrusting and rubbing. “Ah, Freddie!” he said. “Right on cue!” He pulled his cock out of me.

“Ahhh!” I protested, left dangling on the verge of orgasm.

“I’ve warmed her up for you,” said GG, climbing off the bed. “I’m afraid she’s a little full of cum already…”

“A small price to pay!” said Freddie. “Are you … sure about this, though?”

“What do you think, Robyn?” GG asked. “Can Freddie fuck you? Don’t close your legs, girl, there’s no point in being modest.”

I had rolled on to my back, and put my legs together. But as GG cheerfully pulled my knees apart and pushed them back, lewdly displaying my leaking vagina to Freddie’s astonished, hungry eyes, I put up no fight at all.

GG reached for his tablet. “Go on, Freddie,” he said. “Have fun.”

I had not yet consented to having sex with Freddie … but not had I ruled it out. In truth, I really wanted my orgasm, and it seemed like this would help me reach it. Also, I was very aware that Freddie was the only member of the geriatric foursome that had not yet fucked me. Some part of me – perhaps the part that valued fairness, or symmetry, or something like that – felt a strange compulsion to complete the set. On the other hand, I stubbornly resisted voicing my consent, as another part of me felt quite strongly that no decent girl ought to be having sex with more than three old men before breakfast.

Freddie was already undressing, though. When he was fully naked, he grinned at me hopefully.

“Go on – climb aboard!” GG urged him, holding up his tablet as if he had already started recording a video. My stomach churned as I imagined what it was seeing right now: my vagina in the middle of the screen – possibly in close-up, with cum oozing out of it.

Freddie climbed on to the bed, and lay down on top of me. He was not yet fully erect, but he nevertheless tried to enter me, pressing the soft head of his cock into my semen-filled vagina. Sensing he needed a little help, I wrapped my legs around his back, and said softly, “Kiss me, Freddie.”

As he ground against me, and probed my mouth with his tongue, I felt his cock gradually harden. Soon he was able to sink it fully inside me, whereupon he began thrusting.

“Good, good!” said GG excitedly, bringing his tablet in closer to my pussy. I dreaded to think what he was filming; I imagined semen squirting out of my pussy around the shaft of Freddie’s cock. It all felt incredibly dirty. But I was close to my climax, and getting closer.

Not quickly enough, though! The lack of friction between my pussy and Freddie’s cock was proving very frustrating. I could barely feel a thing as he sloshed in and out of me. When he finally groaned and went rigid, I still had not climaxed. I felt spurt upon spurt of semen deep within me, and that made me shiver in a perverse sort of excitement, though at the same time I felt rather gross.

“Well done, Freddie!” said GG happily. “Knew you could do it.”

After getting his breath back, Freddie slowly pulled out of me, and climbed off. Setting his tablet down, GG moved closer, and took hold of one of the pillows behind my head. It was up against the headboard and not really beneath my head, and he was able to extricate it without difficulty. Then he took hold of my left ankle, and used it to push my whole knee up toward my ear. “Lift your bottom,” he said.

Puzzled, I let my right leg mirror my left, and my bottom and hips left the bed. GG tucked the pillow beneath my bottom, bunching it up to make it thicker. When he lowered me back down on to it, my bottom was still elevated by several inches, my vaginal opening pointing upward.

“What did you do that for?” I inquired, feeling uncomfortable – not physically, but emotionally.

He ignored my question. “Let’s just scoop this back into you,” he said, running his finger upward and inward from below and around my vaginal opening, gathering semen that had been forced out of me, and shepherding it back into my vagina. “Mustn’t waste any!”

“It’ll mostly come out when I stand up,” I told him unhappily. “Why did you put it all back inside?”

“Practice!” he said. “I want you to lie like that for the next half hour.”

“Practice for what?” I asked warily.

“For getting pregnant, of course!” he said with a grin. “This is the best way to keep your cervix immersed in semen, so that as many sperms as possible make it through into your womb.”

“What?” I said, aghast. “I don’t want to get pregnant though!”

“I know!” GG replied. “Hence ‘practice’. You know our old sperms aren’t likely to put a bun in your oven … but if you want Ethan to get you pregnant, this position will help make that happen.”

“But I don’t want to get pregnant, even by Ethan!” I protested. “Not yet anyway!”

“Then save the knowledge for when you do,” said GG simply. “But honestly, Robyn – you shouldn’t dismiss the idea so quickly. There’s a lot to be said for being a young mum. I know it’s fashionable to wait until later, these days … but think about it! When your child turns eighteen and leaves the nest to go off to university, or to live with a boyfriend or girlfriend … you’ll still be a young woman of thirty-five! Still full of life, full of energy … and able to enjoy yourself. Heck, you could have three children, spaced over the next five years, and be done with them by the age of forty! They say life begins at forty, and there’s a lot to be said for that.”

“Even so,” I said dubiously. “GG, okay, I get the idea. Can I please stand up now? The thought of all your sperms getting in my womb right now is sort of freaking me out!”

“Half an hour!” said GG firmly. “Come on, do it for us. It might be a fruitless exercise, but I and Wally and Lionel and Freddie would love to imagine our little swimmers making it all the way up your Fallopian tubes to your ovaries … maybe surrounding a newly released egg … trying to push their way in…”

“Ahhh!” I exclaimed, terrified at the prospect. I tried to sit up.

“You needn’t worry,” he said reassuringly, as he gently pushed me back down. “Imagination is not the same as reality. The lake of semen currently draining into your womb is highly unlikely to produce a baby. Sure, some of our sperms might find their way up your oviducts and reach the vicinity of your ovaries – at our age, our sperm counts are low, but not zero – but they likely won’t last very long. And if by chance you’ve already ovulated, they likely won’t have the strength to penetrate the tough exterior of your egg. Even young, healthy couples sometimes struggle to conceive – it can take months of trying. You think you need to worry about our ancient sperms? I think not.”

This was not all that comforting; the mental image of the combined semen of him and his friends “draining” through my cervix and into my womb was highly unnerving.

He placed his fingers on my pussy, and began to massage my clitoris. “That’s the beauty of fantasy, though,” he said. “One can experience exciting and dangerous things in the safety of one’s imagination, without having to deal with the consequences in the real world. Try it! Imagine all that semen in your vagina right now, pooling around your cervix, seeping through that tiny passage into the warm dark interior of your womb. Imagine those tiny tadpoles frantically wiggling themselves up the moist fleshy walls to the tunnels that lead to your eggs.”

This was most unfair! He was telling a horrifying story, while giving me the most delightful sensations. I chose to concentrate on the latter, since I had so far been deprived of an orgasm, and really wanted one!

“Doesn’t this feel good?” he purred in my ear. “And wouldn’t you like to be pregnant? Imagine what’s going on in your body right now. Already your womb contains thousands of little sperms; maybe tens of thousands. Mine, Lionel’s, Freddie’s, Wally’s. Lying like this helps, of course, but some of them will inevitably have found their way into your womb before we elevated your bottom. Some probably entered last night. Imagine your womb, filled with a seething mass of sperms, of four different men, all competing with each other to reach your egg first. Some have already found the entrances to your Fallopian tubes. Maybe half will pick the wrong one. Or maybe the chemicals from your freshly-released egg will guide them all to the correct one. Maybe they’re already well on their way. Perhaps some of last night’s sperms reached your new egg hours ago, and have been struggling to break in ever since.”

I bit my lip, trying to block out his words as my arousal intensified. My breath was coming in gasps.

“Perhaps one of them actually managed it already,” he whispered. “Maybe you’re already pregnant. Think of that! Sixteen and pregnant. I wonder whose it is? Perhaps it is Wally’s – that would be nice for him, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you like to have Wally’s baby in nine months’ time? Or maybe it’s mine – maybe I’m destined to father my own great-great-granddaughter. How strange would that be?”

I was on the brink of orgasm. “Please stop talking!” I urged him desperately.

But he ignored me. “Or maybe it’ll be Lionel’s,” he said softly. “The man who took your virginity. Maybe in doing so, he got lucky and put a baby in you right away. Freddie’s a little late to the party, but he could still…”

“Ahhh … AHHHHH!!!!” I moaned, shuddering as I finally reached my climax.

GG continued rapidly rubbing me. “Yessss…” he hissed. “Perhaps it’s not that unlikely after all. Four men’s sperm – that improves the odds, don’t you think? You must know that unsafe sex can lead to pregnancy – didn’t your parents warn you to always use protection? I’m sure even Ethan, being a nice boy, would want to wear a condom when having sex with you. And yet here you lie, your womb filling up with semen from four different men, thinking of nothing but your orgasm.”

It was hard to think of anything else; my climax was still ongoing. “AaahhhhhhAAAAHHHHH!!!” I squealed, reaching down and grabbing his wrist. “Stop please GG – I can’t take any more!”

He stopped his rubbing, and began giving my entire vulva a gentle massage instead. My orgasm finally abated.

“GG, I don’t want to get pregnant!” I wailed.

“I know,” he said softly. “And despite all those things I said, it’s highly unlikely that will happen.”

“Then why did you say them?” I demanded peevishly.

“Because getting pregnant is sexy!” he said, grinning. “And fun! And for a girl of your age, unwed, still at school, and not prepared to raise a family … it’s potentially life-altering, and dangerous. And that danger, that risk, makes it exciting. So I won’t you to promise me something else.”

“What?” I asked mournfully.

“Whenever you have sex with us old men,” GG said slyly, “I want you to do your best to get pregnant. Retrieve any semen that spills out of you, and put it back inside. Lie down on your back. Raise your hips. Let your cervix marinate in semen. Give those sperms their best chance of fertilising your egg.”

“Why would I do that?” I asked in dismay.

“You’re doing it right now,” GG pointed out. “And I told you: because it’s exciting!”

“For you, maybe!” I shot back. “For me it’s scary!”

“It’s a risk,” GG acknowledged. “But a very low one. Come on, think about it. Can you honestly tell me you don’t get a secret thrill from not being 100% sure that you won’t get pregnant?”

I thought about it. I thought about the semen in my vagina, teeming with little swimming sperms. I thought about them swimming through my cervix into my womb, and finding their way up my tubes to where one of my eggs possibly lay waiting. I thought about that egg surrounded by sperms, all trying to dive headfirst into it. I thought about one of them succeeding…”

“Oh my God…” I groaned. The thought was horrible … but yes, if I was totally honest, there was a small rush of excitement as I pictured it. “I suppose, a bit,” I conceded. “It’s probably human nature.”

“Exactly,” said GG. “It would be strange if you didn’t feel that way.” He sank his thumb into my vagina, and began slowly easing it in and out. “Make the promise, Robyn. The risk is small, but it’s fun.”

“Make the promise, Robyn!” Lionel repeated eagerly.

“Yes, Robyn!” said Freddie excitedly. “Make the promise!”

It was three against one. And my mind was all blurry, thanks to GG gently thumb-fucking me and rubbing my pussy. “All right, I promise!” I said grumpily.

“Promise what?” GG said. “Be specific, Robyn.”

I ground my teeth. “I promise I’ll try my best to get pregnant whenever I have sex with an old man,” I said reluctantly. “But I swear to God, you’d better be right about it being extremely unlikely! I’ll just die if I get pregnant from one of you chaps.”

“No you won’t,” said GG, grinning. “Of course you won’t! Pregnancy is what your body was built for, and at least on some level, you’ll feel fulfilled and happy that you’re bringing a baby into the world.”

“I doubt it!” I replied. “That sounds like a very old-fashioned viewpoint.”

“Perhaps,” GG acknowledged. “But it’s not necessarily a wrong one. I think you’ll find that when your baby comes, no matter who gave it to you, you’ll love it with all your heart, and devote your life to raising it in the best way you can. It’s human nature.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but I really hope it’s Ethan’s, and doesn’t get born for another five years or so!”

“We’ll see,” said GG, winking at me. “As long as it’s not conceived on Saturday! Very important, that. Oh – which reminds me: it’s almost time to call your dad. No need for you to move, though. Can we use your phone, Lionel?”

“Be my guest,” said Lionel, zipping up his trousers. “I’m going to breakfast.”

“Thank you,” said GG. “Remind me of his number, Robyn…?”

I reminded him, and he tapped in the number. A moment later… “Ah, hello! Melvin. It’s Grandad. Have you left yet…? Ah, okay. Well … I have some unfortunate news. Robyn, um … she just tested positive for COVID. I’m sorry … I really don’t think she picked it up here. I’m guessing she got it at school. Yes, she’s okay, just a sore throat … they’ve isolated her in the guest room. Yes, yes of course you can. I’ll transfer you to the phone in her room. Let’s see, what’s the number … ah yes. Transferring you now.”

He put his finger on a button, and handed me the phone. “I’ve put him on hold,” he said. “You know what to say?”

I nodded, and put the phone to my ear. When I saw GG press the hold button again, I said, “Hello?”

“Robyn! Grandad tells me you have COVID?”

“Oh, hi Dad,” I said, affecting a sore-throat voice. “Apparently so. He says I shouldn’t fly, but … Dad, I feel well enough to travel…”

“That’s not the point!” said Dad. “I’m not having you infect half the plane with COVID! That would be completely irresponsible! What if someone you infected later died from it?”

Whew. I had expected him to say this, but had not been totally sure. “But Dad!” I protested feebly. “I’ll wear a mask…”

“And what if your symptoms worsen?” he went on. “You’ll be in a foreign country! Who knows what the healthcare is like in Egypt? Best if you stay right where you are, where trained nurses can keep an eye on you.”

“Wait,” I said, feeling alarmed, “you’re not going to come and get me? My symptoms aren’t bad – I can surely stay at home!”

“For two weeks, by yourself?” he said.

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “I’m old enough to look after myself, Dad! I just have a sore throat; I’m not crippled.”

“Hmm,” he said, seeming undecided.

“I promise not to throw any parties,” I said, jokingly.

“Haha,” he said. “But – oh – aha! I’ll bet you’re planning to go and see that boy, aren’t you?”

“I’m not!” I protested, feeling a stab of guilt at lying so directly. “But … if my symptoms clear up, and I test negative…”

“As I thought,” said Dad. “No, Robyn, I’m sorry, but I think you should stay right where you are, where Grandad and the nurses can keep an eye on you. If you’re too ill to travel to Egypt, you’re too ill to be going off to see boys!”

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed, horrified. “I can’t stay here for two weeks!! I’ll die of boredom!”

“Language, Robyn!” said Dad sternly. “I’m sure you’ll survive. Grandad will look after you; I’m sure he’ll find things for you to do.”

I bet he will, I said to myself. Then the thought of spending the next two weeks naked, and having sex with old men all day every day, became overwhelming … and tears began pouring down my cheeks. “Please, Dad!” I begged him. “I don’t really have COVID. It was just a ruse – you were right, I was hoping to sneak off and see Ethan on Saturday. I’m sorry! I’ll come to Egypt instead.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “Let me talk to Grandad.”

“Sure,” I said, and I held the phone out to GG. But he shook his head, and I suddenly remembered. Pulling the phone back to my ear, I said, “I’ll just transfer you.”

GG pressed the hold button, then he took the handset from my hand. Giving me a disapproving look, he raised the phone to his ear. Then he pressed the button again. “Hello?”

I waited anxiously.

“What?” said GG. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nurse Sheila saw her test, and she wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.” There was a pause, during which I died a little inside. Was I seriously going to have to spend a whole fortnight here??

“Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty for her to do,” said GG. “There’s the whole village to explore! Not much in the way of modern entertainments, I’ll grant you, but we have shops … I can take her shopping! Girls like that, don’t they? Oh don’t be silly – I don’t mind at all. Let me spoil my great-granddaughter a bit. Oh, certainly – and could you bring her phone at the same time? I think it’d be cruel to deprive her of it for two weeks…”

“Thank you!” I mouthed at him in gratitude. If I had to be stuck here for the next two weeks, my phone would at least help me to keep my sanity.

“Yes, I can do that – that sounds reasonable,” said GG. “All right – see you in an hour, then. Do you want to talk to Robyn again…? Okay, I’ll transfer you.” He put Dad on hold, and handed me the receiver again.

“Hi Dad,” I said, rather morosely.

“So here’s the plan,” said Dad, rather coldly. “I’ll bring you a couple of changes of clothes, your sponge bag, and your phone … though frankly I don’t think you deserve to have it back, after lying to me like that. But I hope you’ll take these two weeks to reflect, and learn, and grow as a person. Grandad will be giving me a full report on your behaviour when we get back from Egypt.”

“Okay,” I said dully.

“Right – I’ll see you in an hour, then.” He hung up, and I handed the phone back to GG.

“Excellent!” he said, pleased. “Mission accomplished – though you did your best to sabotage it at one point!”

“I just … I couldn’t bear the thought of staying here for two whole weeks!” I said unhappily. “I mean … I don’t mean to be rude … but I can’t take two more weeks of this…”

“Having sex with old men, you mean?” asked GG cheerfully. “Well it won’t all be like that! How much stamina do you think we have? Plus, on Saturday you’ll get to try out your new skills on Ethan! That’ll be exciting, won’t it? Maybe you’ll be his girlfriend after that. At which point, per our agreement, you’ll be off limits to us old chaps.”

This was a hopeful thought. “You really think I can make him my boyfriend so quickly?” I asked.

“Well, that depends on a lot of things,” said GG. “Who else is there, how much alone time you’re able to get with him, the state of his relationship with Miss Zandyfloss … but I’d say you’ve got a good chance. We’ve got three days to rehearse your encounter with him; by Saturday, you’ll be ready.”

I looked around. Lionel and Freddie had both left the room. “Is my half-hour up yet?”

“Not even close,” GG replied. “I’ll let you know when it is. In the meantime, why don’t we run through your history questions…?”

“Does it even matter anymore?” I asked ruefully.

“Perhaps not,” he said. “But your Dad will be here in an hour, and it’s possible he might ask.”

I nodded, and for the next few minutes, GG and I went through the ten questions and answers. I got them all right, and even managed to flesh out most of them with a good bit of additional detail. Then we just chatted for a bit, until…

“Okay, your time’s nearly up,” said GG. “I’ll go and get your clothes.”

“Really?” I asked, wide-eyed. It was strange how excited I was by the prospect of something so mundane as getting dressed.

“Certainly!” said GG. “I imagine you’re looking forward to having some clothes on again.”

“I am!” I agreed fervently.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He left the room.

When he returned, two minutes later, he was carrying my shoes in one hand and my clothes in the other. He put them down on Lionel’s chair, and then handed me my panties. “Put these on first,” he said.

“I need to clean myself up first!” I said. “If I put my panties on now, when I stand up, I’ll flood them with … you know...”

He grinned. “That’s the idea,” he said. “When your dad arrives, I want your pussy soaking in the cum of four old men.”

I shuddered. “Ugh, that’s gross!” I objected.

“More gross than having the semen of four old men inside you?” GG inquired, amused. “No, Robyn, you don’t get to feel all clean and fresh when you face your dad. You ought to feel gross and filthy, because you’re a dirty girl who loves to do filthy things, yes?”

I cringed at this suggestion. “I … I’m not!” I stuttered, aghast.

“Yes you are,” GG, cackled. “Of course you are!” He grinned as he laid his arthritic fingers on my naked pussy. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Ethan will love you for it.”

I pulled my panties on quickly, in part to make him take his hand off my pussy. This worked; he removed his hand as I was pulling them up. But it felt like a rather small victory; he would no doubt be fucking me again very soon. “I don’t want Ethan to think I like having sex with multiple men in one day!” I said grumpily. “He’ll think I’m a slut, and nobody likes sluts.”

GG laughed. “Women don’t like sluts,” he said. “Men love ‘em. They might not always admit it, but they do. They don’t want a girlfriend who cheats, of course … but they definitely want a girlfriend who’s easy. It’s a strange contradiction. What they really want is to ‘tame’ a slut. To have their very own slut who is theirs and theirs alone. An ex-slut, if you like. A woman so in need of sex that she’ll be undemanding in other areas of life.”

“Ugh,” I said, disgusted. “I’m sure Ethan’s not like that.”

“He might not be,” GG conceded. “But don’t underestimate the biological imperative! Whatever his surface ideals, deep down, he likely craves a very sexual woman. One who isn’t afraid to show off her body. One who readily agrees to sex, and to kinky variants thereof.”

“You said I mustn’t have sex with him on Saturday, though,” I said doubtfully.

“Indeed not!” said GG. “But by all means be highly uninhibited about your own nudity, and sucking his cock, and giving him outrageously naughty lap dances. Leave him feeling so filled with desire to have sex with you that he can’t wait to see you again.”

“And … when should I see him again, after Saturday?” I asked uncertainly.

GG shrugged. “You’ve got a whole fortnight. No reason you shouldn’t pay him multiple visits during that time.”

My eyes widened, and my heart soared. “Really??”

“Of course!” said GG, seeming surprised. “That’s the goal, isn’t it? To become his girlfriend? You can’t do that from here.”

“Oh gosh!” I said, realising I had not really thought beyond Saturday.

“We’ll play it by ear,” said GG. “You don’t want to seem TOO eager. But if all goes well, you might end up spending a couple of nights with Ethan before your parents get back.”

“Ohh!” I said excitedly. I almost felt as if, with GG’s help, Ethan was as good as mine. “Thank you, GG!” I climbed off the bed, and threw my arms around him. He responded by sinking his hands into the back of my panties, and squeezing my buttocks. I grimaced – partly at the grope, but mostly at the feeling of semen flooding out of my vagina and pooling in my panties.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now give us a kiss, love.”

I went for a quick peck on the lips, but of course he was having none of that. His tongue thrust into my mouth, and I had to endure yet another long French kiss with my great-grandfather.

When he finally pulled away, he said, “Now get the rest of your clothes on.”

I nodded, and walked over to the armchair . But I immediately noticed a problem. “My skirt!” I exclaimed in dismay. “What happened to it?” It had somehow become ridiculously short; I was not sure it would even cover my bottom.

GG grinned. “I had Maggie shorten it for you,” he said. “She’s a wonder with a needle and thread.”

“But why?” I asked, horrified. “When Dad comes … he’ll go ballistic!”

“What does it matter?” said GG with a shrug. “He’s already upset with you. Just tell him you asked Maggie to shorten it, so you could impress Ethan, and that Maggie got a bit carried away. Not too far from the truth. What’s he going to do? Sentence you to a third week here?”

“He could take my phone away!” I said hotly.

“I won’t let him do that,” GG assured me. “The point is, that skirt is going to blow Ethan away.”

“Oh God…” I muttered anxiously. “Maybe … maybe I could be in the shower when Dad gets here? Maybe he can just drop my things off?”

“That’s a good idea!” said GG. “Yes … I can ask him to leave your things in your room. He might want to wait around until you’ve got dressed … but by then, you’ll have other clothes to change into.”

“Yes!” I agreed, relieved. “Okay, we’ll do that.”

“Breakfast first, though!” said GG. “You hungry?”

I nodded, and reached for my top.

“Wait, though!” said GG. “If you’re planning to be in the shower when your dad gets here, there’s no point in you getting dressed now, is there?”

“What?” I said. “GG, I just got my clothes back after being naked for hours and hours! Can’t I have a little time in my clothes please!”

“Nope!” he said, taking my top back. He picked up my skirt and bra as well, and then my shoes. “No clothes for you until Saturday! That was the agreement. I was happy to make an exception for your dad’s visit, but now that’s not necessary, unless he waits for you to be done with your shower. And we have a plan for that. So I’ll just take these back where I found them…”

“Can I keep my panties on, at least?” I begged him. My panties felt gross, since they were now swimming in semen, but they did at least afford me a modicum of coverage.

“Hmm, I suppose so,” said GG generously. “Just until your shower. Now go on – I’ll see you in the dining room.”

I sighed, but nodded, and left the room. Walking the corridor in cum-soaked panties was no fun, and I might actually have preferred to be naked … but I obstinately kept them on as a matter of principle. Entering the dining room, I shivered as all eyes turned towards me, but then I relaxed a little as Wally and Freddie gave me a friendly wave, and beckoned me to their table.

“You got your panties back, at least,” said Wally encouragingly. “That must feel nice.”

“Yes and no,” I said, though I felt too embarrassed to elaborate. I changed the subject. “So, um, it looks like I’ll be staying here for the next two weeks.”

Both men stared at me. “Well that’s good news!” said Freddie.

“How come?” Wally asked.

“Dad won’t let me go home,” I explained. “He wants me here, where GG can ‘keep an eye on me’ or something.”

Freddie snorted. “If he only knew!” he said.

“I know, right?” I said. “I can’t imagine what he’d do if he knew what’s been going on here. Probably disown me, and never speak to GG again.”

“Oh I’m sure he wouldn’t disown you,” said Wally. “He’d likely put all the blame on Bernie – on your grandad.”

“Great-grandad,” I corrected him. “And I’m not so sure. He’s very religious, very strict; he’d probably think I’ve brought shame on the family.”

“You think so?” said Wally, looking uncomfortable. “That makes me feel awfully guilty about last night…”

“Don’t,” I told him firmly. “Spending last night with you was the one part of this whole crazy visit that felt like it was entirely my choice. I mean, yes, it’s weird that I’ve been having sex with old men … Jeez, it’s weird…” I paused, suddenly feeling rather queasy. The reality of what I had been doing was starting to hit home in an unpleasantly sharp way. I had been having sex with old men. What the hell was I doing? Was Ethan really worth all this? I felt like I was losing myself…

“Ah, here you are!” said GG, ambling over. “Mind if I join you?”

“I say, Bernie,” said Wally, frowning. “Have you considered how all of this will affect Robyn’s relationship with her parents?”

“They won’t know,” said GG. “They can’t ever find out! Of course not. In two weeks’ time, they’ll come back from Egypt, Robyn will go home … and shortly after that, she’ll break to them the news that she’s now Ethan’s girlfriend. She’ll go on with her life – ideally with him, but who knows? Maybe someone else will come along that she prefers. But all of this – her little ‘initiation’ into the world of sex, that we’ve given her – it’ll be a distant memory.”

This helped. A lot, actually. Imagining my multiple fuckings at the hands and cocks of GG and his elderly friends as a future distant memory, instead of an unpleasant current reality, allowed me to fantasise about living happily ever after with Ethan. “Mum and Dad won’t find out,” I said firmly. “And hopefully, after this weekend, I’ll be Ethan’s girlfriend and starting out on a whole new journey.”

“I wish you the very best of luck with that,” said Wally, reaching across the table and patting my hand.

“Thanks Wally,” I said gratefully. He was so kind.

After breakfast – I had some Frosties and a piece of toast with butter and marmalade – I accompanied GG back to his room. “You’d better go and have your shower now,” he said. “Stay in there until I come and get you … or until your dad says he’ll wait for you to finish.”

I nodded. “Okay,” I said.

He held out his hand. “Panties please,” he said.

I sighed. I was about to get in the shower anyway. “Fine,” I grumbled, and I pulled my panties down and stepped out of them. “Here.” I pressed them into his hand.

“Ugh,” he said, grimacing, and I could not help smirking a little.

I went to my room, and commenced my shower. I washed myself thoroughly, even sticking my fingers inside my vagina to extract as much semen as possible – though I suspected it was far too late for this to make any difference. I was in the middle of shaving my pussy when I heard a voice in the room.

“Robyn?”

“Dad!” I said. “Oh I’m sorry – bad timing! I really felt in need of a shower.”

“Ah,” he replied. “Well … I suppose I’ll just leave your overnight bag here on your bed.”

“Thanks,” I said. “What did you bring me?”

“I’m not sure – your mum packed it,” he said. “Want me to open it up and have a look?”

“No, that’s fine, I’ll find out soon enough,” I said. “Dad … I’m really sorry I lied. I just couldn’t face the idea of staying here for two whole weeks. But I … I think I’ve come to terms with it now. I’m just very sad I’m not going to be able to go to Egypt with you and Mum. I was really looking forward to it!”

“I know, Robyn,” said Dad, and he sighed. “At least you’ll have your phone. We’ll send you photos. And Grandad will make sure you have a good time here. Hopley is a lovely little village, with some interesting history…”

“Does it have pyramids?” I inquired, with a trace of bitterness.

“No,” he admitted. “Look, Robyn, I promise you’ll make it to Egypt at some point. Heck, I’ve had to wait 41 years to see it! You’ll not have to wait anything like that long, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure,” I repeated grumpily. “Well, have fun, Dad. Give Mum my love.”

“I will,” he promised. “Right. I’ll be off then. Chin up – we’ll be in touch. Bye then.”

“Bye Dad.”

He left, and I sighed. I felt as if I was missing out on a once-in-a-lifetime experience by not going to Egypt with Mum and Dad … but on the other hand, if I went, I might miss out on my one chance to win the love of the gorgeous, charismatic, talented, and utterly incomparable Ethan.



I finished my shower, dried myself, and then left the little shower room. I was surprised to find my overnight bag on my bed, open and with hardly anything in it. There was my phone – hallelujah! – and my sponge bag, and some tampons, and pads, and a few other things that Mum clearly thought I would need, like a pad of paper and some pens, a deck of cards, a few books from the bookshelves in my bedroom, and some of my favourite films on blu-ray. There were also a couple of textbooks for my least favourite school subjects: Maths and Physics. She apparently wanted me to get some revision done. “What the hell, Mum?” I muttered. “I’m done with this shit! I took my GCSEs!”

The door opened, and GG walked in. “Ah, you’re done with your shower!” he said.

“Jeez, GG!” I exclaimed. “Privacy!”

He chuckled. “Are you serious?” he said. “I think you’re a little past being shy around me.”

I scowled. “Did you take my clothes?”

“Yup,” he said. “They’re safely stowed away. You’ll be naked until Saturday, when it’s time for you to go and see Ethan.”

I pouted unhappily. “That’s a long time to be naked!” I said.

“Yes,” he grinned. “But you must be used to it by now.” He looked down at the bed. “Maths and Physics? Are you planning to retake your GCSEs?”

“No!” I said. “Hopefully I passed them both, but if I didn’t, too bad! I’m done with both of them.”

GG nodded. “It would have made more sense to give you your Latin, French and History books – those are your A-level subjects, right?”

“Yes!” I said. “Thank you. Good grief – I can’t believe my great-grandad understands my academic needs better than my mum…”

GG chuckled. “She probably just wants you to have a well-rounded education.”

“I’ve had one!” I said. “And it’s shown me that my strengths lie in the humanities, not in the stupid sciences!”

GG nodded. “I’m sure she meant well. But I’m not going to make you do homework while you’re here. In fact, I came to tell you you can spend your morning however you like. I’m sure you’re anxious to catch up with your friends, now you’ve got your phone back. If you want to stay here, and text, and Instagram, and whatever else you do on that thing, then feel free. If you need me, you can find me in my room, or in the common room, or perhaps outside, if the weather clears up.”

“Thank you!” I said gratefully. Some time alone with my phone sounded wonderful.

“Right, I’ll see you later then.” He smiled, nodded, then turned and shuffled out of the room.

I picked up my phone, and immediately saw that I had a text from Ethan. Wide-eyed, I held my breath as I read it: ‘Sorry to hear that! Have fun in Egypt. Perhaps we can get together sometime after you get back.’

I re-read it, several times, almost hyperventilating with excitement. Then, with trembling fingers, I typed up a reply. Over the next few minutes I kept deleting and rewriting it, but eventually, when I hit Send, it looked like this: ‘Hi Ethan! I didn’t go to Egypt after all – long story, but I’m free this Saturday if your invitation’s still open. Or sooner, if you like – I’m just staying with a relative and don’t have any concrete plans.’

For the next ten minutes I stared at my phone, awaiting his response. Then I told myself not to be silly, and switched over to my chat with Bridget. ‘Hi Bridge!’ I typed. ‘Just got my phone back. Dad and Mum have gone to Egypt … leaving me behind! Now I’m stuck at the care home with GG and his horny friends :( but at least I’ll be able to go and see Ethan on Saturday!’

A moment later, I saw that she had read my message. Then my phone began buzzing, and her photo appeared on the screen. I hit the green button, and put the phone to my ear. “Hi Bridge!”

“Robyn!” she exclaimed. “What the fuck! You’re staying with a bunch of old creeps instead of going to Egypt? Are you mad??”

“I was hoping to stay at home!” I said defensively. “That was the plan. I called Dad … well GG called him … and said I had COVID. So Dad said I couldn’t fly, which was the plan … but then he got all suspicious that I was planning to sneak off to see Ethan, and he insisted I stay here where GG can keep an eye on me. He has no idea GG’s helping me with Ethan…”

“Yes? Helping you how?” Bridget inquired. “Hang on, let’s do video…”

My stomach cramped. “Um … now’s not a good time,” I said. “I … I just got out of the shower.”

“Okay?” said Bridget. “So throw something on, if you’re feeling shy.”

Of course, I had nothing to throw on … but I could not tell her that. Then I spotted my towel. “Okay, just a second.” I wrapped it around myself and tucked it in. Then I switched to video mode.

“There you are!” said Bridget. “So, back to ‘GG’. How’s he helping you with Ethan?”

“Just by, um, giving me advice, you know,” I said lamely. “And also, figuring out how to get to see Ethan this weekend. Look, I know you don’t approve of his methods, Bridge, but they work! Just seconds after bending over in front of him in a tiny skirt, Ethan was inviting me to his house! I might have been his girlfriend by now, if Dad hadn’t made me come here instead…”

Bridget chuckled. “Maybe,” she said. “Seems likely you’d have lost your v-card, anyway.”

“Actually, Mum made me promise not to do that,” I said sheepishly. “And GG’s adamant that I mustn’t have sex with Ethan on Saturday, either.”

“Well that’s no fun!” said Bridget. “If he wants to have sex with you, and you want it too … where’s the harm?”

“GG thinks that if I have sex with him too soon, he’ll lose interest,” I said. “If I keep him waiting, I’ll have a better chance at a long-term relationship.”

“Well, there is that,” Bridget conceded. “If that’s your goal, then sure, make him wait. But how do you know he won’t just get frustrated and lose interest anyway?”

“GG has a plan for that too,” I said, grinning. “I’ll just tease him a lot, and then make him cum with my mouth or with my hand. Then I’m off the hook for sex … at least for a while.”

“You discussed all this with your great-grandfather?” said Bridget. “God, he really is an old perv.”

I shrugged, feeling awkward.

“I mean, that’s not a bad plan,” Bridget continued. “But do you even know how to give a blowjob or a hand-job? I don’t think you did either with Kevin, right?”

“I didn’t,” I agreed, my cheeks getting hot. “But I know how. I mean, I know how in theory. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Bridget snorted. “Maybe you should practise on those old creeps at the care home,” she said. Then she saw my expression, and added hastily, “I’m joking!”

I felt very uncomfortable. “What if … um … what if I did that, though…?” I asked hesitantly. She stared at me, aghast, and I squirmed miserably. “I mean … hypothetically. Would you … um … would you still be my friend…?”

“Robyn,” she said sternly, “what have you done? Just how far have you gone with these old creeps?”

I felt tears well up in my eyes. “I … I can’t tell you…”

“Of course you can tell me, I’m your best friend!” said Bridget. “I’m not your mum.”

“I know, but…” I said wretchedly. I was torn between a desire to unburden myself, and the fear that I would lose Bridget’s respect and friendship. “You have to promise not to tell anyone…”

“No I don’t,” she replied bluntly. “Best friends don’t tell on each other – that should be a given. But if it’ll make you feel better, fine, I promise.”

I bit my lip, and hung my head. “I … I kind of lost my … virginity…”

Bridget gasped in horror. “You what??? You didn’t!!! To an old man??”

I nodded, feeling horribly ashamed. “Please don’t be upset with me Bridge…”

She groaned in exasperation. “But how?? Why?? How could you? Did they … force you?”

“No they didn’t force me,” I had to admit. “They … well, GG … persuaded me that it would be a good idea. He said an experienced boy like Ethan wouldn’t want a virgin as a girlfriend; I ought to get some experience first so I can meet him on an equal footing. So … I … I’ve been getting some … experience…”

Bridget shook her head sorrowfully. “Oh Robyn,” she sighed. “It sounds to me like he’s just playing you – and you’re falling for it!”

I bridled at this. “He’s not playing me!” I said. “He … he may have benefited from all this, but his intentions…”

“Wait, HE benefited?” said Bridget. “Did you … he wasn’t the one you had sex with, was he?”

I clammed up. I felt like this conversation was going rather badly, and I had not even shared with her the worst of what I’d been doing. But it did not matter; she saw right through me.

“You DID have sex with him!” she gasped. “Your own great-grandfather! How could you let HIM take your virginity, Robyn?”

“He didn’t!” I said huffily. “Lionel did. But GG was … second…”

“Second?” exclaimed Bridget. “Good god, Robyn, how many old men have you had sex with?”

The cat was well and truly out of the bag now. “Four,” I confessed.

Bridget groaned, and her screen went dark as she flopped face down on her bed. I could hear her muffled voice, but could not make out the words. But then she appeared on screen again. “Robyn, we have to get you out of there,” she said. “This is crazy! They’re passing you around like a piece of meat! Please tell me you were safe…”

“Not really,” I said awkwardly. “But they’re old … I’m pretty such they won’t be able to father children at their age.”

“That’s a heck of a chance to take!” said Bridget. “Are you telling me you let all four of them cum inside you?”

I nodded sheepishly. “But Bridge, I really think it’s going to work out for the best. I’ve now got some experience, and I’ll be going to Ethan’s on Saturday. And they’re all leaving me alone this morning, so it’s not like I’m just being passed around like a … like a prostitute, or something.”

“They’re probably still recovering!” said Bridget. “Jeez, Robyn, we’ve got to get you away from that place! Can you maybe come and stay with me instead?”

“Oh!” I said, surprised at the offer. “Do you think your parents would let me?”

“I’m sure they would,” said Bridget. “If not, I’ll make them!”

For a moment, I had got my hopes up … but then I sighed. “It’s a nice idea,” I said, “but Dad will be calling GG to check up on me. I’m supposed to be here as a punishment … he’ll be furious if he finds out I’m staying somewhere else.”

“I suppose we can’t rely on the old creep to cover for you?” Bridget ventured. “Probably not – he’s unlikely to want to give up his new fucktoy.”

“Bridge!” I said reproachfully.

“All right, I take it back,” said Bridget apologetically. “That was unnecessarily mean. I’m sorry.”

“So you should be!” I said. “But you’re probably right about him not wanting me to go elsewhere. No, I don’t think we can rely on him to cover for me.”

“All right,” said Bridget, “but Jesus Christ, Robyn! We have to find some way of protecting you from those old fuckers!”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “I have to admit…” But then my phone buzzed. “Oh, I wonder if that’s Ethan…” I quickly read the message that had just popped up on my phone, and my eyes widened. “It is! Oh my god, Bridge, it’s Ethan! And he wants me to come over this afternoon!”

“Score!” said Bridget.

“Oh!” I felt suddenly flustered and panicky. “I need to get myself dressed and ready! I need to talk to GG!”

“Okay, you go and do that,” said Bridget. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t let that old pervert and his friends fuck you again. It isn’t right, Robyn!”

“I know, I know,” I said. “But GG said once I become Ethan’s girlfriend, he’ll respect that I’m no longer available for that kind of thing.”

“Then I hope for your sake that it goes well with Ethan!” said Bridget. “Good luck babe. Tell me all about it later, okay?”

“I will,” I promised.

I hung up, took off my towel, and hurried to GG’s room. He was not there, so I went to the common room, tensing up as I entered. Even now, it seemed weird and scary to be naked amongst so many people … but as I surveyed the friendly (if often lustful) faces of the old folks, I quickly began to relax. “Where’s GG?” I asked Freddie.

“Outside in the garden,” said Freddie. “He fancied some fresh air. You look very agitated – is something wrong?”

“Ethan texted me!” I said excitedly. “He wants me to go over to his house today!”

“Oh!” said Freddie. “Well that’s exciting, isn’t it?

“Yes!” I agreed.

“Come on then,” said Freddie, leaning forward and slowly pushing himself up on to his feet. “Let’s go and find your great-grandfather.”

I accompanied him to the door, and then outside into the garden. The grass was cool and damp beneath my bare feet, but the sun was warm. I quickly spotted GG; he was sitting on a bench by the pond.

“Ethan wants me to go and see him!” I announced excitedly, waving my phone in the air as I approached him. “This afternoon!”

“Oh!” said GG, raising his eyebrows. “What time?”

“Oh – I don’t know!” I said.

“Ask him – casually,” said GG.

With trembling hands, I texted Ethan: ‘Sure, what time?’

I sat down next to GG as I waited eagerly for Ethan to respond. Fortunately, he did so almost immediately: ‘Whenever you like. Mum and Dad are out all day, and Annabel’s out shopping with friends.’

I gulped. This was almost too good to be true. A whole afternoon alone with Ethan? I looked up at GG, my eyes shining. “Any time!” I said. “As soon as possible!”

“How exciting!” said Freddie.

“Now don’t drop everything and run over there,” GG cautioned me. “Don’t seem too eager. Tell him you’ll come over after lunch. You have his address?”

I nodded. “Why after lunch, though?” I asked plaintively. “Why not … in an hour, maybe?”

GG chuckled. “You don’t want to come across as desperate, do you?” he said. “After lunch will be fine – it’ll give you plenty of time with him. And the wait will help to build his anticipation. Also, we need to find you some transportation…”

“Oh … none of you has a car?” I asked.

“Nope,” said Freddie ruefully.

“Not one of us!” said GG. “There’s a bus service, but it’s rather infrequent – we’ll be better off finding you a chauffeur in the village. We have a few friends there that have cars, and I’m sure they would love to help a pretty thing like you in any way you need.”

I blushed. “Okay,” I said, “thank you.”

GG laboriously got to his feet. “Come on,” he said, “we’ll walk. It’s not far.” He began to shuffle towards the back of the garden.

I stood up uncertainly. “Um,” I said, “that way? What about my clothes?”

“You can stay like that,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’ll be fine. Come on.”

“GG, I can’t go wandering through Hopley stark naked!” I protested anxiously.

“Of course you can!” he replied. “If you can handle being naked in our common room, you can handle this. It’s a quiet village; we won’t run into many people.”

Freddie began to follow GG, tottering along with the help of his cane. I stared at the two men in horror; surely they did not really expect me to go out into the village without any clothes on? Gulping nervously, and holding my right hand over my pussy while clutching my right wrist with my left hand, I walked after them and quickly caught up.

“You can’t be serious about this…” I said plaintively.

“Absolutely!” said GG cheerfully. “Trust me, Robyn – nothing bad will happen.”

I whimpered as I accompanied the two old men to the far end of the garden, where a neatly-trimmed privet hedge separated the care home grounds from the country lane on the other side.

GG peered over the top of an old but still serviceable wooden gate which afforded passage through the hedge. “See?” he said, gesturing to the lane beyond. “Nobody’s around. Honestly, Robyn – of all the sleepy villages in England, Hopley’s probably among the sleepiest. If we encounter a farmer and a retired couple out for an afternoon ramble, it’ll be a busy day.”

“That’s not entirely reassuring,” I said nervously.

GG opened the gate, and he and Freddie walked through. “Are you coming, or not?” he inquired. “There’s no guarantee we’ll be able to get you a ride, but our chances will greatly improve if you’re with us.”

“Oh God,” I muttered, as I followed them out into the lane. I gulped as GG closed the gate behind us.

“Not that I’m complaining,” I said, “but wouldn’t it have been easier to take the road into the village?”

“Not substantially,” said GG. “And I’m not sure I could have persuaded you to walk along the road while naked.”

“Probably not!” I agreed.

“As quiet as Hopley is, a good number of cars do pass through it on their way to and from larger towns like Ashbourne,” GG explained. “To expose you to that much traffic when you’re not used to being naked outside would be rather cruel. You’d be a nervous wreck in ten minutes; I wouldn’t want that.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” I found myself saying gratefully.

The ruts of the lane were rather stony, but the strip of grass between them, and the grass at the edges of the lane, were quite pleasant to walk on with bare feet. Nevertheless I was feeling increasingly anxious as I trotted along, eyeing the approaching stone and brick houses and thatched cottages ahead.

“I shouldn’t be out here naked, GG!” I said to him urgently, as we neared the first house. “This is crazy!”

“Relax!” he replied. “Hopley’s a nice village, full of lovely people. You’ll be perfectly safe, I assure you, and nobody will be mean to you.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, but I did not feel very much better.

We followed the lane until it ended at a gate between two dry stone walls. Beyond was a paved road which ran right and left past houses of a quintessentially rural English quaintness. My eyes flicked rapidly from window to window to window, hoping not to see any people staring back at me.

“Over you go,” said GG, gesturing to the gate.

I stared at him. “We have to … climb over?”

He chuckled. “Shouldn’t be difficult for a nimble young thing like yourself, surely?” he said.

“But … how are you going to get over?” I asked, wide-eyed. I had visions of seeing Freddie tumble off the gate on to his head, and having to run back to the care home to fetch Sheila.

“Oh we’ll be fine,” said GG cheerfully. “Done this lots of times, haven’t we Freddie?”

“Indeed we have,” replied Freddie, grinning.

I sighed, then began to climb the gate. As I swung my leg over the top, I heard the dirty cackles of GG and Freddie behind me, and I blushed at the thought of the sight I was presenting them with. “All right, all right,” I said, rather crossly. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.” I climbed down the other side, then turned and watched as GG calmly unlatched the gate and opened it. “You … you rotter!” I exclaimed.

Both men burst out laughing. “The look on your face!” GG chortled. “Oh come on – don’t be upset. Just a little prank.”

I folded my arms, frowning at him. “I’ve a jolly good mind to go right back to the care home!” I said. “Being out here like this is ridiculous!”

“But then you wouldn’t get a lift to Ethan’s house,” GG pointed out. “You’re so close to your goal! Don’t sabotage your chance now, just because of a harmless little prank.”

I ground my teeth. “All right,” I said. “I hope these friends of yours live close by, though!”

“Oh, they’re all over the village,” said GG, closing the gate behind him. “But Gerry Wolsey’s probably our best bet, and he lives right on this road. Come along.”

“Who’s Gerry Wolsey?” I asked, covering myself as well as I could as we set off down the road.

“The local vicar,” said Freddie. “C of E. Terribly nice fellow.”

“A vicar!” I exclaimed, aghast. “I can’t let a vicar see me naked!”

“Oh, he’s quite broad-minded,” said GG cheerfully. “You’ll see. You’ve no need to worry.”

It was maddening, how slowly the two old men walked along the road, while I huddled miserably beside them, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible. “Hurry, hurry!” I urged them.

But GG stopped in his tracks. “Robyn,” he said firmly. “You’re going to find yourself out of your comfort zone from time to time, and how you handle that tells other people a lot about you. Right now you look like a frightened little mouse, in constant fear of the cat that prowls the house. Some men might find that enticing, but I’m willing to bet Ethan isn’t one of them. And if he does, he’ll be looking for a quick and easy conquest, and that’s it. Back in the care home you were becoming quite confident in your nudity, and that made you very attractive. Try to be the same way here in the village. Stop covering yourself as if you’re ashamed; hold your head up high, stick your chest out, arms by your sides, and walk with pride and confidence.”

“Easy for you to say!” I whimpered. “You’re not naked!”

“Would it help if I were?” GG asked. “I’m happy to strip off, if it would help you.” He began unbuckling his belt.

“No, no!” I said quickly. “That won’t be necessary.” While I appreciated his gesture of solidarity, I dreaded to think what other people would think if they saw both myself and GG out for a naked stroll together. They might draw the correct conclusion, which would be awful.

I took a deep breath, lowered my arms to my sides, and began walking with my head up. Strangely, this did help me to feel a little better, even though I was now more exposed.

“Good girl!” said GG, delighted. “That’s it. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of; you have a right to be proud of your body!”

But now a car was coming, and my arms instinctively went to cover my breasts and pussy.

“Don’t cover up!” said GG. “You might feel embarrassed and afraid, but don’t show it! People react to the energy they see, and if you seem confident, people will treat you with more respect … and that in turn will help you feel more confident. It’s a self-reinforcing sort of thing.”

The car gave a couple of little toots of its horn, and the driver inside waved at me as he passed. He was in his twenties, I guessed, and looked ecstatic.

“I’m surprised he didn’t stop,” remarked Freddie. “He looked like he’d never seen a naked girl before.”

“Probably intimidated by her two imposing bodyguards,” said GG, chuckling. “I’m just glad he managed to stay on the road. Come on – this is Gerry’s house. Let’s see if he’s in.”

We walked up to the front door of an elderly-looking cottage, and GG knocked. “Hands by your sides, Robyn,” he said.

“But he’s a vicar!” I hissed back.

“Hands by your sides!” he repeated. “No false modesty. It’ll be all right – you’ll see.”

Reluctantly, I lowered my arms. The door opened, and there before me was a handsome, dark-haired man in his thirties. He looked me up and down in astonishment, then he turned to GG. “Bernie!” he said. “What on Earth is going on?”

“Good morning Gerry!” said GG. “This is Robyn, my great-granddaughter.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, trying to seem as confident as I could. “I’m sorry about my … nudity.”

“Her clothes are in the wash,” GG explained, “and she’s exploring the idea of naturism as a way of boosting her self-confidence. I do hope you’re not offended…”

“Not offended, no!” said Gerry. “Concerned – a little! I do hope you don’t feel you’ve been forced into this, Robyn?”

I had no wish to open up a can of worms. “No, not at all,” I assured him. “GG’s been very helpful.”

“GG…?”

“Short for Great-Grandad,” GG explained. “Do you think we might take up a few minutes of your time?”

“Of course, of course, my door’s always open,” said Gerry, stepping back to let us enter his house. “Metaphorically speaking.”

He showed us through to the living room, and we all sat down. “So,” said GG, getting straight to business, “Robyn needs a lift to a friend’s house, and I was hoping you might be able to help her out.”

Gerry looked a little startled. “Um, right now?” he asked. “In the nude?”

“No no,” GG clarified, “she has clothes back at the home. But if you could swing by at about one-thirty…?”

“Why yes!” said Gerry. “I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you!” I said gratefully.

“Much obliged,” GG added.

I was far more cheerful, walking naked back to the care home, than I had been on the walk to the village. I was almost bursting with excitement, in fact, as GG gave me some last minute tips on how to handle Ethan.

He was as good as his word; after lunch, he fetched the outfit I had originally been wearing, which I had planned to wear to Ethan’s house anyway. I gratefully put it on; it felt rather strange to be clothed again. Then Gerry arrived in his car, and I climbed into the passenger seat. I gave him Ethan’s address, and we set off.

The drive to Ethan’s house went by in a bit of a blur. Gerry tried to engage me in conversation, but I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts to give him more than the most peremptory of replies. He did gather that I was going to see a boy, however, and he very kindly wished me luck as he dropped me off. He had given me his number, so that I could let him know when he should come back to pick me up. I thanked him, then made my way up to Ethan’s front door.

I knocked, then waited with bated breath.

The door opened, and I stared in astonishment.

Ethan laughed. “Surprise!” he said.

He was naked. “Ethan!” I said, not quite sure what to make of this. “You’re … naked!”

He grinned, and shrugged. “I thought it might save time,” he said. “We both know why you’re here, yeah?”

Even twenty-four hours ago, this might have either scared me away or reduced me to a nervous (and very pliable) wreck. But having sex with four men had – as GG had predicted – given me a certain confidence I had not hitherto possessed. Moreover, GG had so drummed into me the necessity of not having sex with Ethan that I had fully discounted the possibility – which made this situation easier to deal with.

“You’re assuming a lot!” I said, looking up from his admittedly attractive cock. “I think you’ll find I’m not as easy as all that, though.”

“Oh come on,” he said good-naturedly. “You didn’t flash your knickers at me at school just so you could come over and play video games with me.”

“There’s a world of middle ground between video games and sex,” I pointed out. “I might be persuaded to help you, um, relieve a little tension later, if you like … but you’re not getting into my panties today, mister!”

He chuckled. “Want to bet?” he said. But as my jaw dropped at his audacity, he added, “Come on in. Let me get you a drink of something, at least.”

“All right,” I said grudgingly, wondering if I had been too up-front in shutting him down. “That would be nice – thank you.”

“Vodka and orange?” he asked, sauntering into the kitchen as carefree and casual as if he were not currently stark naked. “Gin and tonic?”

“You have alcohol?” I asked him in surprise.

“Sure!” he replied. “And I’m not even nicking it from Mum and Dad. I’m eighteen – I can buy my own.”

“Oh, I thought you were still seventeen,” I said, a little lamely. “Anyway, I’ll stick with something softer if you don’t mind. Something tells me I’ll need to keep my wits about me!”

Ethan laughed. “You really think a single glass of vodka and orange will cause you to shed your undies?” he asked. “Either you’ve never had alcohol before, or you must be a total lightweight.”

I could not help bridling a little at this. “One glass then!” I said. “No more.”

“Fair enough,” he said, and he poured me a drink.

“Thank you,” I said, taking it. “Now go and put something on, for goodness sake. You have a lovely body, I’ll grant you, but I don’t need to see your knob swinging all over the place … just yet.”

Ethan laughed. “Tell you what – I’ll put one piece of clothing on for every piece you take off.”

He was incorrigible! But this was fun. “Deal,” I said playfully, “if you give me a kiss first.”

“That I can do,” he said, and I found myself being caught up in his strong arms. His lips found mine, and then our tongues met as my eyes closed.

It was a good kiss, and I was rather breathless by its end. Smiling happily, I kicked off one of my shoes. “Now you,” I said.

He put on a sock.

“Not quite what I had in mind!” I said. I took off my other shoe. “Some pants next, please!”

“Oh no,” he said impishly. “If you can choose what items to take off, I can choose what items to put on.”

I pouted, but his deviousness was entertaining me immensely. “Fine,” I said, and I took off my skirt, enjoying his hungry expression as he looked at my panties.

“Nice,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “I think we should have another drink.”

“Okay,” I replied. The first one had been nice, and I did not feel much affected by its alcoholic content. “Once you’ve put on your next two pieces of clothing.”

“Of course,” he said with a grin, and he left the room, then reappeared a moment later wearing two socks and a shoe. I rolled my eyes, and chuckled.

We downed our second drinks. Then I pulled my top up over my head. “I’m guessing this will only earn me another shoe,” I said ruefully.

“Good guess,” he replied, and he put on his other shoe.

I was getting quite aroused. “Looks like I’ll have to take my bra off,” I said, trembling a little, “if I’m to get you to cover your willy.”

“Please,” he said. “A beast like this deserves the term ‘cock’.”

It had grown over the past minute, and was now almost horizontal. “Full of yourself, aren’t you?” I remarked quietly.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I’d rather you were full of myself, though.”

“I’m sure,” I said, taking off my bra.

He whistled, and grinned. “Very nice,” he said. “Among the nicest I’ve had the pleasure of seeing. That deserves another drink.”

“I think two’s probably my limit,” I told him.

He poured it anyway. “You’ll be fine with three of these in you,” he said. “They’re not very strong.”

“Fine,” I said. “Just put on some pants!”

He smiled, left the room, then returned … with a t-shirt on.

“Ethan!” I said, in mock exasperation. “What are you like?”

“Take off your knickers,” he replied, “and find out.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. I finished off my third drink. “Yeah, I don’t think so. You’ll probably just go and put on a hat or something.”

He laughed. “I did consider it,” he said. “But no. I’m sure this is a big step for you, and it deserves better than a hat. If you’re willing to show me your pussy … then it’s only fair that I should cover my cock.”

It was fully erect now, and I was not sure how he would even successfully cover it with his underwear. But I nodded. Taking a deep breath, I pulled down my panties, and stepped out of them.

“Wow!” he said, his eyes widening. “I love that you shaved it.”

I had not, of course, shaved it for him, but I decided not to tell him so. “I’m glad you approve,” I said. “Now go and put that thing away before someone loses an eye.”

He laughed, and as he turned to leave the room, his erection gave me a farewell wave. I leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling light-headed. My state of being clothed again had not lasted long, but at least I was quite accustomed to being naked around other people now. GG had prepared me well.

Ethan returned, and I stared at his cock. “You cheeky bugger!” I exclaimed.

He grinned wickedly. “It’s covered, isn’t it?”

“Well … yeah … but … that wasn’t quite what I had in mind!” I said. “I told you, we’re not having sex today!”

He came over, and kissed me. “Let’s talk about this some more, in my bedroom,” he said. “More comfy than the kitchen, don’t you think?” And then he stopped, and quite literally swept me off my feet. I suddenly found myself in his arms, my right arm around his back, gripping his far shoulder instinctively for support.

“Ethan,” I said breathlessly.

“Hush,” he said softly.

It seemed like his plan was to have sex with me whether I wanted it or not. The word ‘tape’ never entered my head, though; I was dying to have sex with him, after all, and it was only GG’s strict advice that was keeping me from eagerly going along with it. “My clothes!” I said nervously.

“They won’t go anywhere,” he said. “We’ll be alone and undisturbed for the next couple of hours, at least.”

He carried me up the stairs as easily as a lesser man might carry a toddler. Without bumping any part of me against wall or doorway, he deftly brought me into his bedroom, and laid me down upon his bed.

My mission to see this visit through without having sex with Ethan was, I was forced to admit to myself, not proceeding terribly well. Within fifteen minutes of my arrival, I was lying on his bed, naked, and he was climbing on top of me with a condom tightly wrapped around his impressively large and rigid cock. “Give us a kiss,” he whispered, “you wonderful, sexy girl.”

My stomach was full of butterflies as his tongue traced the inside of my lips, before easing between my teeth to caress my own tongue. His right hand was on my left breast, gently massaging it, his fingers teasing my nipple with soft touches. This was so much better than snogging old men! My whole body was on fire with arousal, my heart racing excitedly, my loins burning for Ethan’s touch.

And touch them he did. His right hand migrated south until his fingers reached my naked pussy. He sensuously rubbed my clit and labia, making firm, slow circles, and when his probing fingers reached my vagina, they found it very wet and willing. I gasped as he slid two of them inside me. Spreading my thighs, I ground my vulva against his hand. And all the while we were kissing … I felt like I was in heaven.

But then he removed his fingers, and something else began to penetrate me. I knew immediately what it was, and I panicked. “No!” I said, as I felt Ethan’s cock slide deep. “You can’t! Not today!”

“Why not?” he murmured. “You’re clearly not on your period, thank goodness. And you can’t be worried about getting pregnant; I’m wearing a johnny.” He proceeded to thrust inside me with slow, measured strokes.

“Because I don’t want to be just a one night stand!” I said desperately. “I want more than this. I want to be your girlfriend!”

“Who says you can’t be?” he inquired softly, and he nibbled on my ear. “I broke up with Zandy.”

“You did?” I gasped. “So does this mean…”

“Shhhh…” he whispered, thrusting harder. “Let’s just enjoy this experience.”

It was happening anyway, and it felt amazing, so it seemed silly not to savour the moment. I wrapped my legs around his back, gripped his shoulders with my hands, and began moaning with pleasure as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

“Oh God!” I gasped, awash with pleasure. “This is so…”

He groaned, shuddered, and pressed his pelvis hard against mine. Then he collapsed on top of me. “Oh yeah,” he panted. “Outstanding.”

I had not yet climaxed, but apparently he was done. I hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He chuckled. Then he pulled out of me, and sat up. He carefully removed his condom by rolling it down until he could tug it off. Then he unrolled it, held it up with the tip downward, and pinched the upper end shut. Squeezing it so that it bulged at the bottom, he examined it closely. “No leaks!” he said. “We’re safe.”

“You really don’t want to be a dad, eh?” I remarked with breathless amusement.

“Nope!” he replied. “Far too young. I have plans, Robyn. I want to see the world: backpack across Europe, explore the Peruvian jungle, tread the glaciers of Alaska, climb the slopes of Kilimanjaro, earning my crust as I go.”

“That sounds … amazing!” I said. “I’d … I’d love to do those things too.” Hopefully he would take me with him. It sounded like a challenging lifestyle, but I would happily do it if it meant being with him.

He chuckled. “It’s not for everyone,” he said. “Plus, you’ll still be at school.”

“Oh,” I said in dismay. “You’re doing this … over the next school year?”

“No, of course not,” he replied. “Next year, starting in the summer, after my A-levels. During my gap year. I couldn’t do that if I had a baby to look after. That’s why I always wear a johnny – even with Zandy, who’s on the pill. Frankly I didn’t trust her not to fake taking them just so she could get pregnant and lock me in. Anyway, it’s over between me and her now.”

“So,” I said cautiously, “we have a whole year … does this mean I’m now your girlfriend…?”

He smiled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I only just left one relationship; I’m not looking to start another one quite this soon.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling rather deflated as I watched him drop the condom in the bin. Then I looked up, to see him watching me thoughtfully.

“On second thoughts,” he said, stopping to retrieve the condom, “I think I’ll flush this.”

“Wow,” I said, “you really have some trust issues!”

He shrugged. “What can I say?” he said. “I’ve been burned in the past, and that’s taught me to be careful. And frankly, we don’t know each other that well.”

“That can be fixed,” I said, sitting up. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by how non-sneaky I am.”

He grinned. “I can’t make any promises,” he said, “but I’m certainly not going to rule out a second date, or getting to know you better.”

I smiled happily. This felt like a victory, of sorts. “I’d like that,” I said, and he gave me a wink and a grin.

He still took the condom to the bathroom. I tried not to feel offended. Afterwards we lay on his bed and talked for a while, until he said I should probably fetch my clothes and get dressed, as his parents would be back soon.

“How are you getting back?” he inquired. “Want me to walk you to the bus stop or something?”

“I’m getting a lift with a … a friend,” I said. “I’ll just text him to come and get me.”

I did so, and Gerry promptly texted me back to say he would be there in two minutes. Apparently he had not returned home after dropping me off.

“Well, this was fun,” said Ethan, walking me to the door. He had put on a t-shirt and shorts. “I hope you enjoyed yourself?”

I smiled, and nodded. “I did,” I said. “Don’t forget about me, okay?”

“How could I?” he replied, and he pulled me into his arms, and kissed me. “Our little dressing / undressing game was a lot of fun. I look forward to our next date.”

“Maybe … this weekend?” I suggested hopefully.

“Maybe!” he said. “I’ll be in touch, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, smiling and nodding.

“How did it go?” asked Gerry, as I climbed into his car.

I blushed, and smiled. “Very well, thank you,” I said.

“Good!” said Gerry. “Are we going straight back to Hopley? Or … do you need to stop anywhere on the way?”

“Straight to the care home please,” I said. It was only after we’d been driving a few minutes that I realised he might have been wondering if I needed something from the chemist.

He dropped me off outside the care home, and I almost skipped inside; I was actually quite excited to tell GG how it had gone, though I was a little worried he would be disappointed I had let myself get talked into having sex... But I had earned a second date; it had been a success, by any measure that mattered.

“You’re dressed!” remarked Pam, the receptionist, looking me up and down in amusement.

I blushed. “Not for long, I suspect,” I said ruefully.

“Why do you let the old buggers push you around?” she asked with an air of bemusement. “I wouldn’t take my clothes off for them if they paid me!”

I shrugged, feeling awkward. “It just sort of happened,” I said. “I honestly feel like it’s done me a lot of good, though. It’s brought me out of my shell in a whole new way – and might just possibly have got me a boyfriend.”

“How old is he?” asked Pam with a smirk. “Eighty? Ninety?”

“Eighteen!” I said defensively. “And gorgeous!”

“Oh!” said Pam. “Lucky you, then.” She pursed her lips, then added, “Why don’t you give me your clothes? I know where Bernie puts them.”

“You do?” I asked in surprise. “Can you … tell me where…?”

She laughed. “No, he’d be very cross with me if I did that,” she said. “And he’d only find a different hiding place.” She held out her hand expectantly.

I sighed. I did not really like feeling as if Pam was joining in with GG’s goal of keeping me naked at all times while I was at the care home … but I would only be delaying the inevitable by a minute or so, most likely, if I insisted on keeping my clothes on now. Reluctantly, I undressed, then I handed my bundle of clothing to Pam.

“I’ll put them away safely,” she assured me.

“Thank you,” I muttered. Then I walked off down the corridor, making my way to GG’s room.

He was not there, so I continued to the common room. And there he was, chatting with Lionel and Freddie. “Ah, there’s our girl!” said GG, beckoning me over. “How did it go?”

“Pretty well!” I said, waking over to stand next to him.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” said Lionel, patting his lap, “and tell us all about it?”

GG chuckled. “Better still, why don’t you sit on Lionel’s knob? Assuming you can get it hard enough, Lionel?”

“I think I can manage that,” said Lionel with a grin, as he unzipped his trousers.

I stared at him in dismay, then looked around at the other old men and women in the room. “Now isn’t the time or place, guys!”

“Sure it is!” said GG good-naturedly. “To outward appearances you’ll just be sitting on his lap. The fact that he’s inside you will just be a naughty little secret between the two of you.”

“Not really, if you and Freddie know!” I pointed out.

“Between the four of us, then,” said GG. “What are you afraid of? That Sheila will kick you out and you’ll have to spend the rest of the fortnight at home?”

I stared at him. That … would actually be a pretty good thing! “If that happened,” I said cautiously, “would you cover for me with Dad?”

“You mean, lie to him?” GG inquired. “Tell him you were here for the full two weeks?”

I blushed, and shrugged.

GG chuckled. “Of course I would,” he said. “If it came to that. But have no fear – nobody’s going to throw you out. Sheila already suspects you’re up to some kind of naughtiness with us, and she doesn’t really mind; it won’t shock her all that much to catch you and Lionel in flagrante delicto.”

“But … what if I don’t want to…?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable. Now that I had had sex with Ethan, I did not really want to go back to having sex with old men.

“You promised, Robyn,” said GG gravely. “Unless you’re officially Ethan’s girlfriend now?”

“Well…” I said, hesitating. I might be, soon – perhaps I could get away with pretending…

“Be honest, Robyn,” GG cautioned me.

I sighed. “No, not yet,” I admitted. “Fine.”

GG grinned. “Oh, but I don’t have the gel with me,” he said. “You’ll have to lube Lionel’s knob with your saliva.”

“Ooh yes!” said Lionel, his cock now out in the open and growing rapidly. “I just fancy a nice blowjob.”

I grimaced, but I got on my knees in front of Lionel, took hold of his cock, and lowered my mouth on to its bulbous head. For about half a minute I sucked it, thoroughly coating it with my saliva. Then I got up, turned around, and sat down on his lap, guiding his cock into my vagina. I could not help shuddering a little as it sank deep, simultaneously thrilled and repulsed by the sensation.

“Aaaahhh…” sighed Lionel.

“So, tell us!” said GG. “What happened.”

“Well,” I said, “first of all, he answered the door naked…” And I proceeded to relate the events of my encounter with Ethan.

Once I was done, GG sighed, shaking his head. “Well it’s a shame you weren’t able to stop yourself having sex with him,” he said, “but you’re young and hormonal, and he’d plied you with drinks. I can’t say I’m all that surprised, or that I can blame you. Still, it did undermine your chances of a long-term relationship with him. The fact that he didn’t care enough to give you an orgasm … that’s not a very good sign. On the other hand, he clearly enjoyed the experience, and it’s definitely a good sign that he’s talking about a second date.”

“I know, right?” I said excitedly. “I hope it’ll be this weekend…”

“Don’t phone him, though!” said GG firmly. “He said he would be in touch, so let him make the next move. The last thing you want is to seem clingy and desperate.”

“Right,” I agreed.

“Can you … start bouncing a bit…?” Lionel asked hopefully.

I rolled my eyes, but nodded, and began raising and lowering myself, so that his cock slid in and out of my vagina.

“Let’s hope it’s this weekend,” said GG, “but don’t get your hopes up. It might not be – for any number of reasons – and you can’t allow yourself to despair and lose hope. The best thing you can do is to not think too much about Ethan. You’ve played your hand, and it was either good enough or it wasn’t. Ethan will let you know either way, in time. Meanwhile, the best thing you can do is to practice having sex, to prepare yourself for your next date with him, if that happens. Learn lots of different positions and techniques, so you can blow his mind the next time you see him.”

“All right,” I said without enthusiasm. The sooner Ethan officially took me on as his girlfriend, the better! Until then, thanks to my stupid promise, I would have to let these wrinkly, ugly old men have unprotected sex with me over and over again, squirting their cum inside me and making me lie on my back with my knees up, trying to get pregnant. The thought made me queasy.

Lionel gasped and stiffened, and I felt the warm rush of his semen inside me.

“Good job, Lionel!” said GG cheerfully. “All right Robyn, go and lie down on the sofa, with a cushion beneath your bottom. Make sure Lionel’s sperms get all the way into your womb.

I suppressed an unhappy whimper as I rose from Lionel’s lap, his cock slipping out of me. Walking over to the sofa, I found it occupied by Maggie, who was watching the television.

“Um,” I said sheepishly, “do you mind if I lie down here?”

She looked up at me in surprise. “No, not at all, dear girl,” she said. “Would you like to rest your head in my lap, or do you want me to go elsewhere?”

“I, um, I don’t want you to have to move on my account,” I said awkwardly.

“Then just lay your head on my lap,” said Maggie with a smile. “My daughter used to do the same, you know.”

“I don’t want to impose…” I said.

“Oh nonsense,” said Maggie briskly. “It’ll be nice for me to have such a lovely young woman using me as a pillow!” She lifted up her knitting, inviting me to lie down.

I sat down about a foot away from her, then turned, swinging my legs up and lying down until my head and neck came to rest on her lap. Then, feeling very self-conscious, I tucked a cushion beneath my bottom, elevating my pelvis.

Maggie looked at me curiously. “Why are you doing that?” she inquired. “Are you trying to get pregnant or something?”

I put my hands over my face. “Oh gosh,” I groaned.

“You are?” she asked in surprise. “Who did you just have sex with?”

I did not answer.

“Oh, one of those old buggers over there, I suppose,” said Maggie, looking over at GG and Freddie and Lionel. “But why on Earth would you want them to get you pregnant?”

“I don’t!” I groaned. “But I promised I would try – just to make them happy. It won’t make any difference – they’re too old to have much if any chance of getting me pregnant.”

Maggie snorted. “Did they tell you that?” she asked. “Don’t believe a word of it! They may be old, but their sperms are as young and new as any man’s. They might be fewer in number these days, but they’re still quite capable of fertilising an egg! My great-grandfather took a young bride at the age of seventy-six, and fathered his last child at the age of eighty-two!”

“Oh my God!” I said, aghast.

“I’m sure the chances are reduced,” Maggie conceded, “but if you lie there soaking your cervix like that, I’d say you’re bound to get pregnant sooner or later.”

I groaned again. Then I sat up, got to my feet, and marched over to my great-grandfather. “GG!” I exclaimed, heedless of the other old people in the room. “You lied to me! You said there was almost no chance I would get pregnant!”

“What?” he said. “As far as I know, that’s true. Why – are you pregnant??”

“No!” I replied. “Well, I don’t know! But Maggie says your sperms are still quite capable of making a baby, even at your age!”

He shrugged. “Sperm counts decline with age,” he said. “That’s a fact. And so does sperm quality. Maggie might have heard some anecdotes of old men fathering children late in life, but it’s very uncommon.”

“It still makes me worry,” I said dubiously.

“That’s your choice,” said GG, nodding. “But nonetheless, you promised you would try to get pregnant whenever you have sex with an old man, so go back and lie down please.”

“I don’t want to,” I said stubbornly.

He looked at me with his pale watery eyes. “You made a promise, Robyn,” he said. “You’re not the sort of girl that breaks promises, are you?”

I shrugged, rebelliously. “What if I am?” I muttered.

“Hmm,” said GG. “Well, I’d hate to give your father a poor report on your behaviour while you’ve been here…”

“I don’t care,” I said, digging in. “He’ll be upset with me, but that’s better than getting pregnant.” I folded my arms, hunching my shoulders.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” said GG sadly. “Well I did hope it wouldn’t come to this,” he said, “but I should remind you that you yourself showed me how to get to the Instagram page of your rival, Miss Zandyfloss. I dare say she would be interested in chatting with me about you, and seeing your photos and videos…”

I stared at him, horrified. “You wouldn’t!” I exclaimed. “Why would you do that?”

“I wouldn’t,” he assured me. “Of course I wouldn’t. In fact … I promise I won’t. There, you see? Don’t you feel reassured?”

I gulped. Of course I would expect him to keep such a promise … but I could not then break my own. If I did, I would have no right to expect him to keep his. He might, even so – he was hopefully just trying to make a point – but I did not want to even flirt with the horrendous prospect of Zandy gleefully distributing explicit videos of me having sex with old men. I would never again be able to show my face in school. “I … I’ll go and lie down,” I mumbled.

“Good girl,” said GG pleasantly.

I returned to Maggie on the sofa, and lay down again. As I tucked the cushion beneath my bottom, she said, “You’re still trying to get pregnant, then?”

“A promise is a promise,” I said morosely, scooping up with my fingers some semen that that leaked out of me, and pushing it back inside.

“Oh dear,” she said sympathetically, and she began stroking my hair. “I dare say those old lechers will do their best to keep you full of cum while you’re here, Robyn. You might want to resign yourself to the very real likelihood that you’ll leave here with a bun in the oven.”

“Oh God!” I groaned. “I really hope not! I’m on the verge of getting an amazing boyfriend. But he’s not going to want to raise a baby that isn’t his.”

“It’s a rare man that does,” said Maggie, “but they do exist. Perhaps this boy of yours is one of them.”

“Highly unlikely,” I replied sadly. “He doesn’t even want one of his own – at least not yet. He has big plans for his life.”

“Then you’d better pray those old goats are shooting blanks!” said Maggie. “But in case they’re not, start thinking about what you’ll do if the old pregnancy test turns up positive.”

I said nothing, and simply stewed in my own anxiety for the next half hour. Then I got up, and cleaned up … only to be taken to GG’s bed for more sex.

And so it went, for the next two weeks. I lost count of the number of times I had sex with GG, Freddie, Lionel and Wally. After the first couple of days, Willie began joining in, and after that Matthew, Terry and Robert followed suit. To begin with we were fairly discrete, but since Sheila never seemed to object to anything beyond a bit of disapproving tutting, GG’s ambitions increased, along with the depravity. Sucking one man off while another fucked me became a common occurrence, and on the fourth day I got triple-teamed for the first time. I soon learned not to bother protesting: GG invariably talked me into it sooner or later. And he filmed almost everything on his tablet, further reinforcing the fact that I could not afford to get on his bad side, or refuse to do anything he asked of me.

And he kept having me make more and more promises. Somehow – I don’t even remember how – he made them seem like trivial additions to the list of promises I had made already … but they slowly escalated to a point that would have sent me into a blind panic only a few days before. I promised him that if Ethan did not make me his girlfriend, I would continue visiting the care home once a week for more sex with him and all of his friends. I promised him that even if I did become Ethan’s girlfriend, I would continue visiting GG – naked, of course – at least once a month. In later promises, that became twice a month, then once a week. Then I promised I would suck him off on each visit – even if I was in a relationship with Ethan. Then, in successive promises, I promised I would suck them all off … and let them all finger me … and close my eyes and pretend I could only feel fingers, even if I suspected there was a cock inside me.

By the end of the second week, I had promised to visit GG every weekend for as long as he lived, even after I got married, and have sex with him and all of his friends. This was such a ridiculous promise that, as I lay in bed beside Lionel that night, I could barely fathom how GG had talked me into making it. And yet somehow, I would have to make it work. My only comfort was the fact that there was a time limit to my future torment. After all, he was not going to live forever…

We went for more walks through the village – always naked, of course. I got to know several of GG’s younger and more mobile friends who lived there … and even had sex with some of them, though if they were less than seventy years old, GG would only let them fuck my anus.

The youngest person to fuck me was the Moroccan janitor, Hassan. GG had described him as a little weasel, but that description hardly did justice to his perverse creepiness. It had not taken him long to discover that I was staying at the home and never wore clothes, and I frequently spotted him lurking in the background, watching me as I had sex with the old residents (which happened in the common room with increasing frequency). One night I awoke to find him fingering my vagina; my shriek of protest roused GG, who, instead of reporting Hassan as he should have done, merely talked me into letting the horrid janitor continue fingering me. That soon escalated into fucking – always in the anus, except for two occasions when he whipped his cock out of my bottom and plunged it into my vagina just as he climaxed. GG was very annoyed about this, and after the second time, he banned Hassan from fucking me altogether.

The creepy little man paid me a couple more nighttime visits, however, and fucked me with such impressive stealth that both times I woke up only as he was ejaculating inside me. By that point, I was too tired and too blasé about all the fuckings to care, and I said nothing to GG about it. It is entirely possible that I might have slept through one or two more visits from Hassan; there were certainly a couple of mornings when I woke up with no memory of waking during the night, and the janitor did not seem like the type to pass up an opportunity for an easy fuck. And I was, by then, a very easy fuck.

Ethan never called me. Nor did he text me. GG kept dissuading me from making the first move; even at the end of the second week he was saying, “Don’t lose hope – he may yet get in touch. And if he doesn’t – his loss!” This was small comfort.

Mercifully, the day of Mum and Dad’s return finally came. The last person I had sex with was Wally, whose semen I was still nursing against my cervix when Dad walked into my room.

“Dad!” I said, hurriedly sitting up and swinging my legs off the edge of the bed. “Welcome back!”

He gave me a hug. “Robyn, it’s nice to see you!” he said. “I hope the past two weeks haven’t been too rough on you.”

“I’ve been fine,” I said with a shrug. “Um, Dad, this is Wally. Wally, this is my dad…”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Wally from the chair on which he was sitting.

“Likewise,” said Dad. “Are you a friend of my grandad?”

“Yes,” Wally confirmed. “And of your daughter, now.”

“Excellent,” said Dad, nodding. “I’m glad you’ve made some friends here, Robyn. Hopefully it’s been a useful and educational experience for you.”

“Very,” I agreed, not looking either him or Wally in the eye.

But he was now looking at my bed. “Why did you have a pillow beneath you…?” he inquired.

I blushed. “My back,” I said. “I pulled a muscle yesterday. Nothing serious; it just felt better to have something under me.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well, are you ready to go? I’ll just go and say hello to Grandad before we head out.”

“Ready when you are,” I replied.

Dad left the room, and I turned to Wally. “I’m glad my last night was with you, Wally,” I said. “I’m glad to be leaving this place, I must say – it’s been an insane fortnight – but I’ll genuinely miss you.” I bent down and gave him a hug.

“You’re a lovely girl,” he said, patting my back. “I do hope you’re not pregnant as a result of all this. If you are, and it’s mine … I’m terribly sorry.”

I shrugged. “I hope so too. But frankly, if I am pregnant, I hope it is yours. I don’t feel Lionel deserves it, and I’d hate for it to be GG’s.”

Wally smiled. “Take care, Robyn.”

I hauled my bag out of the room, and waited for Dad. I was currently wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and feeling rather conflicted about this. I had almost wept with joy earlier, when GG had brought me my clothes, and had chosen an outfit offering maximum coverage … but now that I was fully dressed, I felt strangely uncomfortable. Smothered, almost, in a weird way. I felt like I had over-compensated; this outfit just wasn’t me anymore. I was feeling the urge to rip it off and dress more skimpily. But I resisted this impulse.

Dad reappeared, and we headed out to the car. “So!” he said, as we set off. “Tell me all about your fortnight at the care home!”

I cringed internally, but recovered well. “Are you joking?” I said playfully. “I was at a care home. You were in Egypt! I want to hear all about that!”

He laughed. “Well sure,” he said. “Honestly, it was amazing. I’m already anxious to go back – maybe even next year! And we’ll definitely be taking you next time.”

“Yes please!” I said. “So what was it like? Tell me what you saw!”

And he did. At great length.

Six days later, overdue for my period, I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. “Oh my God!” I whispered, staring at it. “Oh my God…”

The next morning, during breakfast, I prodded my raisin wheats with my spoon. “Um, Dad?” I said.

“Yes Robyn?” he asked.

“I, um … I sort of promised GG I’d visit him this weekend … um, well, actually, every weekend…” I said nervously.

Dad put down his phone. “Good heavens!” he said. “Every weekend? That seems rather excessive. I’m happy you get on so well with the residents there, but … that’ll rather severely restrict your other activities!”

“Yeah…” I agreed ruefully. “I … I suppose I made the promise a bit impulsively, without thinking…”

“And I suppose you want me to take you?” Dad inquired. “Goodness. Every weekend? Ridiculous. Perhaps we can find you a bus service…”

“That would be fine,” I said. “I don’t want to inconvenience you…”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll take you today. Then we’ll find you an alternative means of transportation for the future. I hope this will teach you not to make rash promises!”

I nodded.

“All right,” he said. “Go and brush your teeth, and then I’ll drive you over there. Will it be a quick visit, or am I dropping you off and picking you up later?”

“You can drop me off,” I said. “I’ll text you when I’m ready to be picked up again.”

“Very well,” he said.

My stomach was in knots as we drove to Hopley. I was pregnant. I was pregnant! With an old man’s baby, no doubt. Possibly Hassan’s … but he had not cum inside me until several days after my estimated ovulation date. No – the father was almost certainly one of the first four men to have had sex with me: GG, Lionel, Freddie, or Wally. I prayed it was not GG; that would be horribly messed-up. But I was almost equally desperate for it not to be Lionel; he had demonstrated a rather sadistic streak, particularly in the second week of my stay. On one occasion he had spanked my buttocks mercilessly with his slipper while fucking me from behind. My squeals of pain had just made him cackle with glee and hit me harder. I had not enjoyed that at all.

Dad dropped me off, and I entered the building. Pam smirked as she saw me. “Clothes off,” she said.

I hesitated, then undressed in front of her desk. I handed her my clothes. “I’m only here for a couple of hours,” I said.

She shrugged. “You’ll get them back when Bernie says it’s okay, and not before,” she said.

I swallowed, and nodded. Then I went off to find GG. This time, he was in his room.

“Come in!” he said, when I knocked. Then, “Ah, Robyn!” He grinned in delight. “Did you miss us?”

“A bit,” I conceded. I had missed Wally, at least. “GG … I’m pregnant.”

He stared at me. “Excellent!” he said. “How marvellous! I wonder which of us got lucky?”

“What am I going to do?” I wailed. “I’m sixteen! I’m not remotely equipped to have a baby!”

“Of course you are,” he said. “Millions of young women throughout history have had babies at your age. You’ll be fine. You just need support.”

“Support from whom?” I said plaintively. “I don’t even have a boyfriend!”

“Ethan never got in touch?” he asked.

I hung my head. “I got tired of waiting, and texted him,” I said. “He said he’s seeing Freya now, and he’s sure I’ll find someone of my own soon too.”

GG regarded me sympathetically. “What a pity,” he said. “Have you considered … not keeping it?”

I bit my lip. “I … well … yes,” I confessed. “I don’t want to – it seems wrong to me. I love babies and I’m looking forward to having some – eventually! Also, Mum and Dad would disown me if they ever found out. But what choice do I have?”

“You don’t think your parents would help you look after your baby while you finish your schooling?” GG inquired. “I really think they would, you know.”

I snorted. “You don’t know Dad, then,” I said. “As soon as he finds out I’m pregnant, he’ll almost certainly kick me out of the house. I’ll have ‘disgraced’ him, or something.” I rolled my eyes. “Unless I get married really quickly, that is – then he might accept it.”

“To whom?” GG asked. “The baby’s father? We don’t know who that is. Yet. I suppose we could do a DNA test…”

I stared at him. “GG, I can’t marry an old man!” I protested.

“Why not?” he said mildly. “Without being too callous about it, the marriage would likely be short, and then you’d be free again, to stay single or pursue a man of your choosing. With, I might add, the money from your late husband’s estate. Plus,” he added with a grin, “it’s not like you’re unaccustomed to having sex with an old man.”

I sat down on the edge of his bed, dismayed. “GG, I can’t start a family with an elderly husband…”

“Then find someone younger,” said GG. “But good luck finding a man willing to marry, at short notice, a girl who’s pregnant with another man’s baby. Much better to marry the baby’s natural father – and I can guarantee that whichever of us it is, he’ll jump at the chance.”

“I’m sure,” I said bitterly. “That’s not exactly how I envisioned my future.”

“You’re pregnant now,” said GG. “That inevitably changes things. But don’t think of it as a prison sentence. In many ways, it will be ideal for you. It would be little more than a paper marriage. You could go on living with your parents – you wouldn’t be able to live here with your husband, of course – and your mum could help you with the baby while you finish school. You’ve already promised to visit us weekly and have sex with us all. What husband would tolerate that, except for a husband who’s already here, grateful to be getting a turn at his young bride?”

“Oh God,” I groaned. He was right, as always. I would never be able to marry someone of my age and expect him to stick around if I continued having sex with multiple old men every weekend. My promises had doomed me, even before I knew I was pregnant. “I’m stuck,” I said gloomily. “I can’t escape this, can I?”

“That’s probably true,” GG agreed. “Even if you get an abortion, we’ll only knock you up again in short order thereafter.”

“Not if I went on the pill,” I pointed out.

“You promised you wouldn’t,” GG said smugly.

“Oh shit,” I muttered. Another stupid promise, made rashly while on the brink of an orgasm. I only vaguely remembered making it.

“You’ve still got a few weeks before you start showing,” said GG, “but we should go and see Gerry today about organising the wedding.”

“I don’t even know who I’m marrying yet!” I protested. “I won’t be able to take a DNA test until I’m eight weeks along!”

“Which is … five weeks away,” GG mused.

“Three,” I corrected him.

He raised a puzzled eyebrow. “Three? But you can’t have got pregnant before three weeks ago – unless the father is someone you had sex with before coming here!”

“Pregnancy is measured from the start of the last period,” I informed him patiently. “Which for me was five weeks ago. So I’m five weeks pregnant, even though the baby was conceived just three weeks ago.”

“How does that make sense?” asked GG, bewildered.

“It’s just how they do it!” I insisted. “Come on, GG – you’ve had children. How do you not know this?”

He chuckled. “Believe it or not, most husbands aren’t very aware of the technicalities of their wives’ pregnancies,” he said. “At least, that used to be the case. Perhaps modern men are more involved.”

“Well anyway,” I said. “I should be able to get a DNA test in three weeks. Then I just have to take four old men’s DNA to the clinic to get them compared.” I groaned. “Oh GG, what if it’s yours?? Won’t they realise you’re a close relative?”

“They might,” he admitted, “but I doubt they’d be able to tell great-grandfather from second cousin.”

“First cousin,” I said grimly. “I checked. You’re genetically as close to me as a first cousin.”

“Really?” he said in surprise. “Oh dear. Well … even that’s not illegal…”

“What will they think of me though?” I said anxiously.

“Who cares?” GG asked. “Look, the odds are against your baby being mine, and you can’t do anything about it either way, so it would be pointless to lose sleep over it. For now, let’s just get wedding preparations underway, and at eight weeks we’ll get you tested and figure out who the father is – and therefore who you’ll be marrying. Then we can have a quiet wedding, present the news to your mum and dad as a fait accompli, and go from there.”

“I’ll need their permission to get married,” I reminded him. “I’m sixteen, remember?”

“Oh, right, right,” he said. “Well, we’ll set everything up, and get their permission when we need to. I’m sure they’ll give it rather than see you bear a child out of wedlock.”

I had to agree with that. This plan was rather awful to contemplate, but I nevertheless felt some relief that there was a plan at all. I had made a terrible mess of things by making all those promises and getting pregnant, but GG was offering me a lifeline, and I could not help clinging to it gratefully. “All right,” I said in a subdued voice. “Let’s go and see Gerry, then.”

GG smiled. “Well, there’s no immediate rush,” he said. “We’ll have sex first.”

I knew I was going to have to have sex with at least eight men today, so I just nodded. I had long since lost the willpower to refuse any request for sex from GG and his friends.

After he had climaxed inside me, I did the rounds. Lionel, delighted to learn that I was pregnant, chose to fuck my anus while spanking me and pulling my hair. Freddie hugged me warmly and congratulated me, and then I rode his cock cowgirl-style. Wally got very emotional and wanted to know if I was all right, and said he would be highly honoured to marry me but felt badly that I was being forced into this situation. He also said he would happily marry me even if the baby was not his … which gave me a lot of food for thought as he lay on top of me, thrusting himself to a spurting orgasm.

Then I visited Willie, and Robert, and Matthew, and finally Terry. All of them climaxed in my vagina – which no longer worried me at all as I was already pregnant.

I cleaned myself up, and then GG and I headed out to the village. I was used to wandering its roads in the nude by now, and the villagers were getting used to me, too. I waved at a couple of catcallers, and shooed away a gaggle of pre-teens who stared at me, giggling.

Gerry smiled at me as he welcomed us inside. He took the news of my pregnancy rather well, but was less happy about marrying me to an old man. “There are … other options, you know,” he said to me in a concerned voice.

I nodded. “I know,” I said. “And we’ve discussed them. But this is what I want to do.”

Once we had convinced him, he laid it out for us. As soon as we knew the identity of the father (i.e. the groom), we would let him know, and he would publish the banns – as long as we presented him with written permission from Mum and Dad. After another month, we could have our wedding in the local church.

“Not naked, though,” he said gravely. “I must insist you respect the dignity of the Lord’s house.”

“Fine with me!” I said. “I imagine I’ll have family members there; I certainly don’t want them to see me naked.”

“All the same,” GG interjected, “I’m not sure it would be entirely honest to deck you out in the full white bridal regalia. You’re still the slut of the care home, after all.”

I winced at this; it was the nickname Sheila had bestowed upon me in a spiteful moment a couple of weeks earlier. But I had to admit it was accurate. What else was I, if not a slut? I had not asked to become one, or intended to, but here I was. “Maybe I can wear a white minidress or something,” I reluctantly conceded.

“That sounds acceptable,” Gerry said. “All right then. Let’s move on…”

The weeks passed. Dad found a bus option for getting me to Hopley and back, and I continued my weekend visits to the care home. I began visiting an obstetrician, got my DNA test, and test kits for the old men. A week after I returned them, I received a letter with the results. Dad unfortunately saw the envelope and wanted to know why I was getting a letter from the hospital, but when I launched into a detailed description of my problematic periods, he hurriedly backed off.

I opened the envelope in the privacy of my bedroom, read the results of the DNA test, and then fell back on my pillow, staring at the ceiling. It was a Thursday, and I usually visited GG on a Saturday; I contemplated bringing my next visit forward, then decided against it. A couple of days to digest this information would not go amiss.

I called Bridget. She was her usual supportive self. “How’s the mum-to-be?” she asked with a smirk.

“Not great,” I replied glumly. “I just got the DNA results back.”

“Oh!” she said. “And? Who’s the dad?”

I sighed. “Worst case scenario,” I said bitterly. “Fucking GG. My own great-grandfather knocked me up.”

“Ouch,” said Bridget, grimacing in disgust. “Sorry, Robyn – that sucks.”

“How the hell am I going to tell Mum and Dad now?” I groaned. “It was going to be a hard enough conversation anyway, without the added incest component.”

“Will they even allow it?” Bridget asked. “I mean … I know they’re super religious and everything, and all about the sanctity of marriage … but even they might balk at that.”

“We’ll see, I suppose,” I said.

Saturday arrived, and I took the bus to Hopley. Walking into the care home, I undressed and handed my clothes to Pam, who grinned and took them away. Then I went to look for GG, and found him in the common room. He was chatting with Lionel and Wally, but when he caught sight of me, he smiled and waved me over.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly.

“Hello Robyn!” said Wally warmly.

“All right darling?” said Lionel lecherously.

“Welcome home,” said GG. “From your face I’m guessing you have some news for us…?”

I nodded.

“Oi Freddie!” Lionel called across the room. “Time for the big reveal!”

Freddie, who had been chatting with Helena, waved and got to his feet. As he ambled over, leaning on his cane, I waited patiently. I could have told him not to bother, but I did not want to make my announcement by a process of elimination. Lionel got up and dragged a nearby chair over, so Freddie could sit down.

When all four of them were seated and looking at me expectantly, I took a deep breath. “It’s … GG’s.” For a moment I had wanted to announce Wally as the father, but what if they wanted to see the test results? I had brought them in my bag, assuming they would.

“Oh my,” said Wally.

“Damn it,” said Lionel. “Congratulations, Bernie.”

“Oh dear,” said Freddie. “That’ll complicate things, won’t it?”

But GG was smiling happily. “How wonderful!” he said. “How perfectly exquisite. I impregnated my own great-granddaughter! I wonder how many men throughout history could say that?”

“Oi Sheila!” said Lionel, and my stomach knotted as I turned to see my least favourite nurse approaching. “Bernie knocked Robyn up!”

“Is that so?” said Sheila, arching an eyebrow. “Good heavens, girl, weren’t you on the pill?”

“And now he’s going to marry her!” Lionel continued, cackling.

“I don’t know about that!” I said anxiously. “I can’t marry my own great-grandfather!”

“It’s not illegal, as far as I know,” said Lionel.

“Wait,” said Sheila sharply. “Robyn really is Bernie’s great-granddaughter?”

“Yes!” I wailed.

“And are you really … sixteen?”

“Yes!” I said.

“You’re not a prostitute?” she asked.

“No!” I said indignantly. “I’m a schoolgirl!”

“Jesus Christ!” said Sheila, looking ashen. “Then why on Earth would you…”

“Calm down Sheila,” said Lionel. “Let’s not ruin the moment here.”

“Ruin the … Jesus!” Sheila spluttered. “You all did this to her, didn’t you? You turned her into this slut!”

Wally looked appalled. “Oh my God … we did, didn’t we?”

“Yes!” said GG candidly. “I groomed my virgin great-granddaughter to lose her inhibitions and have sex with me and my good friends. And I loved doing it. Oh my God, how I loved sinking my cock inside her, knowing there was a chance I could get her pregnant. How I loved watching her go from a sweet and innocent virgin to a pliable, willing slut. But she benefited from that! She gained confidence in herself, learned not to be shy of her body, and developed some useful skills! And if her first date with Ethan had gone better, she’d be with him now instead of us, and I’d be wishing her all the best. But the fact is, Ethan didn’t take her on, and now she’s pregnant with my baby. And I couldn’t be happier about it! I fully intend to embrace my new responsibility, support her, and make her as happy as I can.”

His words cut me deeply. I had known all of it, deep down, but to hear him admit it out loud made me sick to my stomach.

“You should be in prison!” Sheila exclaimed.

“I couldn’t very well support her from there,” said GG.

“How are you going to support her anyway?” said Sheila scornfully. “You can’t even support yourself! Your bones are as brittle as matchsticks, your discs herniate if you so much as sneeze, and you need fourteen pills every day just to keep your body functioning! You’re in no position to be a husband or a father! Jesus Christ!”

“You wouldn’t send him to prison, would you Sheila?” asked Freddie anxiously. “He wouldn’t last a day, and you know it.”

“I don’t know!” said Sheila grimly. She turned to me. “What is it you want, Robyn?”

I gulped. It had been a while since anyone here had asked me that. “I … I don’t know,” I said. “I sort of feel … that what’s done is done. I suppose I was … exploited … but for better or worse I’m pregnant with GG’s baby, and I have to do what’s best for myself and him or her.”

“Admirable!” said Sheila. “And what is that, would you say?”

I bit my lip. “I … I suppose I just need a safe, comfortable place to live and raise my baby, with enough money to live on.”

Sheila sighed. “Well Bernie does have money, I suppose. But you can’t live and raise a child in that spare bedroom. You’ll need a house! And Bernie can’t live there; he needs to be here, with medical resources close at hand.”

“Maybe we can find her a place close by, in Hopley,” Wally suggested.

“Have you seen any For Sale signs in Hopley lately?” Sheila inquired. “There’s hardly a thriving housing market here.”

“I’m hoping Mum and Dad will let me continue living at home for a while,” I said. “At least until I finish school.”

“That would be best,” Sheila acknowledged. “With Bernie sending you a monthly allowance, I hope.”

“Of course,” said GG. “But it remains to be seen whether Robyn’s parents will accept that arrangement. They don’t yet know she’s pregnant, let alone by whom.”

“You’d better fix that, girl!” said Sheila.

I nodded. Another conversation I was dreading. Possibly the worst conversation of all. “I … I’ll tell them when I get home.”

“Nonsense!” said GG. “I’m not letting you go through that alone. Ask your dad to come and get you, and we’ll break the news to him together. Two against one – it’ll be easier that way.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling relieved.

“Now,” said GG, unzipping his trousers, “since I’m the lucky new dad, I think I should get to cum inside you first today.”

“If you think I’m going to keep letting you have sex with her in this room, you’ve got another think coming!” said Sheila hotly.

“Now don’t be like that, Sheila,” said GG affably as he pulled out his partially erect cock. “You know very well you’ve been entirely complicit in this from the beginning. You can’t tell me when and where I can and can’t have sex with my beautiful young bride-to-be.”

Sheila’s fists clenched for a moment, then relaxed. She scowled at GG. “Should’ve known my tolerance for your shenanigans would come back to bite me,” she said. “Fine. Fuck her all you want. You’re going to Hell, Bernie.”

Once again, I marvelled at how GG could apparently talk anyone into anything. I had been dreading the upcoming confrontation with Mum and Dad, but now I was actually feeling hopeful. With GG arguing my case, Dad was much more likely to accept the situation and not kick me out of the house.

I got down on my knees, and began sucking GG’s cock; this had become my standard way of lubricating old men’s cocks, and honestly I preferred it to the gross sliminess of the Lubrigel.

“Ugh,” muttered Sheila, and she marched away.

Having lubed up GG’s erection with my saliva, I sat down upon it, and bounced up and down until he squirted his cum inside me. Then, one by one, I took care of all the other men.

Dad agreed to pick me up, after some grumbling, and I awaited his arrival nervously. At GG’s behest, I went to reception and asked Pam for my clothes. She was inclined to refuse, until GG could come and tell him herself, but I told her that I was long past caring about being naked in the care home, and simply needed to avoid angering my father, whose arrival was imminent. She accepted that, and fetched my clothes. I got dressed, and returned to GG’s room.

By the time Dad arrived, I was all nerves. GG had soothed my panicky hyperventilation by talking calmly while gently rubbing my pussy through my panties, but I was still incredibly tense when Dad walked in.

“Hello Grandad!” he said. “Hi Robyn. So, what’s this all about?”

I looked at GG, who said, “Robyn has some news for you, don’t you Robyn?”

I froze. I had thought GG would be doing all the talking. Now he expected me to just come out and said it? I gulped. “I … Dad … I’m … I’m pregnant.”

He stared at me, his mouth opening in shock. “What the blazes?” he said. “How? Who…? Was it that boy you were interested in? Ethan?”

I shook my head. “No … it’s … um … oh gosh…”

“It’s mine,” said GG cheerfully. “Robyn and I had sex. And … oops! I never thought my old sperm had enough oomph in them to father another baby, but apparently I was mistaken about that.”

“What … the … hell?” Dad’s face was turning red. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“No joke, Melvin,” said GG seriously. “Robyn needed relationship advice, with this Ethan chap, you know … and I’m afraid I rather took advantage of her desperation to make a good impression on the lad. I talked her into climbing aboard the old todger, as a way of demonstrating how that sort of thing is done, and … well, it felt so good that I couldn’t help climaxing. And now she’s pregnant. I tried to talk her into getting rid of it … but as distressed as she was, she said she couldn’t bear to have an abortion. So here we are. She thinks the right thing to do would be for us to get married, for the baby’s sake, but I told her she’d need parental consent for that.”

“Married?” Dad gasped. “Are you out of your mind?”

“It’s not illegal,” said GG. “If I were her grandfather, then yes, it would be, but we’re genetically just distant enough for it not to be a problem…”

“Not a problem??” Dad exclaimed. “Oh good grief – I feel sick! I need some air!” He turned and stormed out of the room.

I was about to hurry after him, but GG stopped me. “Let him go,” he said. “He’ll be back.”

And he was – about five minutes later. “Robyn, how could you be so naive to allow that to happen?” he demanded. “Didn’t we teach you better than that? And Grandad – how could you take advantage of her like that … your own great-granddaughter! It’s sick! I should call the police!”

“And tell them what, exactly?” GG inquired. “No crime was committed here. She’s reached the age of consent – and she consented! Yes, it was rather immoral of me, no doubt … but hang it, Melvin, it’s been years since I had my knob in anything but a tissue.”

“But she’s your great-granddaughter!” Dad cried.

“Yes?” said GG. “As close to me as a first cousin, and I needn’t tell you that first-cousin marriages have been very common throughout history.”

“It’s not just the relatedness, though – it’s the age difference!” said Dad, incensed. “By ‘eck, if you weren’t so old and frail, I’d deck you!”

“Now now, Melvin,” said GG calmly. “That would be no way to treat your future son-in-law.”

“Son-in-law!” Dad groaned. “Sheer insanity!”

“Robyn and I are having a baby together,” said GG. “Surely your Christian principles require you to support us getting married?”

“Ordinarily, yes!” Dad conceded grimly. “But there’s nothing ordinary about this! It sickens me!”

His obvious revulsion unnerved me. “Dad, I know it’s weird and wrong,” I said, “but it happened, and I can’t undo it. I’d rather my baby not be illegitimate, but I’ll need your consent to avoid that.”

“But how on Earth do you expect it to work?” he demanded. “Are the two of you going to move into a house together? Are you going to look after your husband slash great-grandfather in his last few years while raising your baby at the same time? How will you finish school?”

I quailed before his wrath. “I … I was hoping … we were hoping … you and Mum would help. I thought maybe I could go on living with you…”

He snorted. “Absolutely not,” he said. “I’m not going to start raising a baby again just because you were stupid enough to get yourself knocked up. I’ll sign whatever consent form I need to sign, so that you can get married, but then I’m done with you. You’re on your own!”

“Melvin, wait…” said GG, but Dad had already stormed out.

I sat down, and began to cry.

“Hush,” said GG, stroking my thigh. “I thought that went pretty well, all things considered.”

“Pretty well?” I echoed through my tears. “He’s kicking me out!”

“We’ve got some time to talk him out of that,” said GG gently. “He’s furious at the moment, but he’ll eventually calm down. The main thing is that he agreed to let us get married.”

“I’m not sure that’s the main thing!” I said unhappily.

“It is for me,” he said, grinning. “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

I shuddered, but it was mostly just instinctive. I had made peace with the fact that I was a sex toy for him and his friends now; the thought of being his wife too was not significantly more horrifying. The thought of becoming a mum was now strangely rather comforting: it gave me a purpose beyond that of a sexual plaything.

I left the care home, expecting to have to catch the bus home. To my surprise, however, I found Dad waiting for me in his car. “I thought you’d left,” I said, standing by his open window.

“Robyn,” he said, “I love you, but you’re going to ruin my standing in the community.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, hanging my head. “I’ll move out. I don’t know where I’ll stay, but…”

“You don’t need to move out just yet,” he said grumpily. “It’ll be a while before this whole thing blows up.” He sighed. “Do you really plan on marrying my grandfather?”

I hesitated. “Yes,” I said.

“Then do it soon!” he replied. “Then you’ll be his responsibility, and he can pay for whatever accommodation the two of you figure out.”

“It’ll be a little over a month from now,” I said. “We’ve already done some preliminary work on it.”

Dad grunted. “That’ll be fine. You’ll have time to pack up and make the necessary arrangements.”

I swallowed. “Dad … are you going to want to see me again? After I move out? And my baby?”

He said nothing for a while. “I don’t know,” he said. Then, after another pause, “Yes I do. The answer is yes – but not for a while. Maybe at Christmas, or something. I don’t know. I have a lot of thinking to do. And of course your mother will want a say in the matter.”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

There was another long pause. Then, “For crying out loud, Robyn, how did it even happen? Whatever possessed you?”

“GG’s … persuasive,” I said dejectedly. “All I wanted was some advice on how to get Ethan to notice me. And I got it, and it was good advice, and so the lessons continued. He taught me how to act around Ethan, how to seduce him, how to get him excited … before I knew it, he was having sex with me. I … I don’t want to go into too much detail…”

“That’s fine!” said Dad firmly. “I don’t want to hear it anyway.”

We got home. Mum almost broke down in hysterics when Dad told her about me and GG. She cried, and hugged me, and wanted answers that I couldn’t give, and then shouted at Dad when he told her I would have to move out in a few weeks.

It was a miserable couple of hours. Finally Dad persuaded Mum that it would be better for everyone if I moved out after the wedding. But “only if she has a place to move to!” Mum insisted fiercely.

I had never seen her like this – standing up to Dad, so protective of me. But I knew it would not last; Dad would get his way in the end, whatever happened. I began making plans to move out.

A few days later, I had an ultrasound, which brought unexpected news. I was going to have twins. There was no way to tell, Dr Louden said, if they were identical or fraternal twins at this point, but when I told them that Mum had a fraternal twin, they said it was likely mine were fraternal too. I asked if she could tell the sex yet, but she said no, not yet.

The wedding was organised, and a date was set. Neither Mum nor Dad was planning to be there, and since the attendance list was going to be very small and consisting mainly of care home residents, Gerry relaxed his position a little on my dress code. I still could not be naked, but as long as the important parts were covered up, he did not mind me showing a lot of skin.

The question of my accommodation was still open. GG had asked around the village, but nobody was willing to take in the pregnant care home slut as a lodger. I could not really blame them.

Then the solution came from an unexpected quarter. GG and I were in the dining room, discussing the issue after breakfast with Wally, while Hassan cleaned up some spilled food from the floor next to a nearby table. “I’m sure we can persuade Sheila to let you have the guest room for a week or two,” said GG.

“I doubt it,” I said dolefully. “She hates me.”

“No she doesn’t,” said GG reprovingly. “If anything, I think she’s warmed up to you a bit in the past couple of weeks. I think it’s worth asking her, at least, while we try to find somewhere more permanent for you.”

“If she needs a place to live,” said Hassan suddenly, “what about the Lodge? There are two bedrooms. I only use one. I use the second for my projects, but I can easily clear it out for Robyn.”

“Oh!” said GG in surprise. “Well, that’s certainly an option – if you’re willing to share your space with her…”

I shuddered. “GG, I don’t want to live with Hassan!” I hissed.

“I know,” he said quietly, “but what choice do we have? It’s rather ideal, actually – very close by, and he can be your chauffeur if you need to go to the hospital, or shopping, or something.”

“I can be your chauffeur,” said Hassan, smiling.

I lowered my voice. “GG, he’ll rape me in my sleep!”

“Oh, surely not,” said GG, a little shocked. “Look, I know he’s rather creepy, but can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt? He’s left you alone since I banned him from having sex with you, hasn’t he?”

I did not want to tell him that I had awoken to find Hassan inside me on two occasions, and done nothing to stop him. “I suppose so,” I said reluctantly.

“There,” said GG, satisfied. “He may be a little weasel, but he’s not altogether evil.” He raised his voice. “Hassan, we’d be most grateful if you could allow Robyn to share your home for a while after the wedding. It might be a few weeks, or months … basically until we find her a better place to raise her baby.”

“She is welcome to stay with me as long as she wants,” said Hassan, grinning broadly. “It will be my pleasure.”

“I’m sure it will,” I muttered unhappily.

I did not get to see my wedding dress until a week before the big day. GG had ordered it online, and Maggie had made some alterations. When I put it on, in Maggie’s room with the door closed, I stared down at my uncovered panties in dismay. “It’s … very revealing!” I exclaimed.

“Of course!” said Maggie happily. “You didn’t expect anything modest, did you?”

“No,” I admitted, “but it’s church! Shouldn’t I at least keep my panties covered?”

“Nobody will mind, dear,” said Maggie. “At least your nipples are covered; I was a bit worried I’d gone too extreme with the neckline.”

“Barely covered,” I said ruefully. “I hope my boobs don’t grow any more before the wedding.”

“They’re not going to change much in a week,” said Maggie. “Particularly this early in your pregnancy. You’re only, what, three months along?”

I nodded. “They’ve already started growing though,” I said. “I can tell.”

“Yes, you’ll probably go up a cup size or two,” said Maggie. “But it’ll happen slowly. You’ll be fine for the big day.”

And I was, to my relief. My white dress was strapless and very low-cut, but it held in place admirably well around my chest. It was the lower hem I was more embarrassed about; although it covered my bottom and most of my thighs at the back, Maggie had trimmed it so that it swept up into a giant inverted V at the front, so that practically the whole of the front of my panties was exposed. The panties themselves were lacy and rather see-through, which bothered me only a little; everyone there had seen my pussy many times anyway. It was the cut of the dress itself that I was most concerned about; it seemed somehow sacrilegious.

I walked down the aisle on Wally’s arm; more than anyone else, he felt like a surrogate father in Dad’s absence. He had even given up having sex with me; he said he just wanted to be a good friend to me, which touched me enormously. I had spent a lot of that last week before the wedding in his room, talking to him about things. He had become my most trusted confidant.

GG was grinning at my panties as I approached the front of the church. Then he looked up at my face, and I smiled sheepishly as I took my place by his side.

Gerry conducted us through the service – a rather truncated version of a traditional ceremony – and we said our vows. Then, when Gerry said “You may kiss the bride,” GG eagerly stuck his tongue in my mouth, and reached down to cup my pussy through my panties. The kiss lasted a long time, despite Gerry clearing his throat repeatedly in an attempt to bring it to a halt. The assembled guests did not seem to mind, however. The most mobile residents of the care home had come, along with Bridget, the only one of my friends who I trusted not to completely freak out at my dress, and the fact that I was marrying my great-grandfather. She was not happy about either, of course, but she did agree to be my bridesmaid.

After the service, we posed for photos outside the church. GG thought it would be fun to grope me or display my body parts lewdly in every photo, but I was desperate for at least one I could show my family. In the end, as GG was attempting to remove my panties in front of everyone, I pleaded with him tearfully to let me have just one tasteful picture before I got completely naked. He immediately relented, and we took several nice photos in which my panties were cunningly hidden. In one, our backs were to the camera and we were looking back over our shoulders. In another, I was sitting on GG’s lap with a bunch of flowers clasped in my lap. My favourite photo was of me and GG smiling at each other in close-up, shown from the waist up.

Then my dress came off, and the photos became increasingly vulgar, and then pornographic. The photographer was a local man, Viv Fuller, and he seemed quite happy to photograph me naked and sucking GG’s cock, and then giving handjobs to Lionel and GG at the same time, and then posing with Freddie’s cock in my vagina while GG pretended to be shocked at the sight.

Bridget had left in disgust by this point.

Although I had had several cocks in me by the end of the photo shoot, GG had not allowed anyone to actually fuck me. Lionel tried, thrusting a few times in an attempt to cum inside me, but GG quickly put a stop to that. “Nobody cums in Robyn today except me,” he said firmly. “We’ve got to have our wedding night, you know?”

Then we all returned to the care home, where a modest reception was held in the dining room. Music was put on (old stuff, unfortunately), and I danced with (and got heavily groped by) a few of the men. As parties went, it was rather low-energy, but it went on for a long time. At six o’clock we all sat down to a rather ordinary dinner, though we did get Bruschetta as a starter, and wine to drink. I was not allowed any of the latter, of course, being both too young and too pregnant, but GG certainly had plenty enough for us both.

In fact he had rather too much, and after singing a few bawdy songs from his school days, he staggered into a table and fell down on the floor.

Sheila rushed to his side, and helped him up. “Silly old man!” she scolded him. “How many glasses did you have? Ugh, you cut yourself!”

“Is he okay?” I asked in alarm.

“I’ll need to patch this up, and have the night nurse keep him under observation overnight,” she replied. “He’ll be all right.”

“But what about our wedding night?” I said. “Hassan set up my new room specially – with flowers and everything. We were going to spend the night there together.”

“Yes I know, but that’s not going to happen tonight,” said Sheila. “You’ll have to postpone your first night as a married couple to tomorrow.”

“Can’t I stay here with him tonight?” I asked. “I could help keep an eye on him.”

“He’ll only want a bit of hanky-lanky if you do,” she replied. “Best to leave him in Lydia’s care.”

GG groaned. “My head,” he said.

Sheila helped him to his feet, and threw his arm around her neck. Hanging on to his hand, and with her other arm around his waist, she walked with him to the door.

Lionel grinned at me. “With him out of the way, there’s no reason you can’t still have fun on your wedding night,” he said.

“Some friend you are!” I retorted. “No – we’re going to respect his wishes. Nobody’s having sex with me today except GG – and if he can’t either, then I suppose I’ll get a very welcome night off!”

Lionel chuckled. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I can wait until tomorrow to fill that sweet pussy of yours with my spunk.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, and then I spotted Hassan across the room. “Excuse me please.”

I went over to the creepy little janitor. “Hassan,” I said, “GG hurt himself and won’t be joining me there tonight, I’m sorry to say. I know you went to a lot of effort.”

“Oh,” he said. “Will you still be moving into the Lodge this evening then? Or waiting until tomorrow?”

“Well Dad’s kicked me out and all my stuff is there now,” I said, “so I might as well spend the night there. Did you fix the lock on the bedroom door yet?”

“Um, no, I haven’t got round to that yet,” he said. “But don’t worry – I won’t come in without permission.”

I wished I could believe him. “All right,” I said reluctantly. “Well, I might as well head there now. I just need to find my dress...”

The Lodge, which I had visited a few times now, was a small stone-and-brick house on the edge of the care home’s grounds. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a decent-sized living room that doubled as a dining room. I shut myself in my new bedroom – a tiny room, really, with a single bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and not much else – and hung my wedding dress on a hanger in the wardrobe. Then I called Bridget.

“Hi,” she said. “How’s married life?”

“Too early to say, really,” I replied. “GG got drunk and fell over and cut his head open, so he has to stay at the home tonight. So much for our wedding night!”

“You can’t be too unhappy about that, though, surely?” said Bridget. “A night off?”

“Yeah,” I conceded, “if I do get the night off. Hassan still hasn’t fixed the lock on the bedroom door. I think he’s planning to sneak in while I’m asleep.”

“Ugh, Robyn, that’s horrifying!” she exclaimed.

I shrugged. “He’s done it before, and I’m pregnant already,” I said. “The possibility doesn’t freak me out as much as you might think.”

“Robyn!” said Bridget, aghast. “You need to be more protective of yourself!”

“What good would that do?” I said morosely. “I’m a plaything for old men. My body is common property at this point, very loosely controlled by GG, who doesn’t seem to mind sharing me, even now we’re married. What’s the point in getting all worked up over the janitor taking liberties?”

“But are you happy being this way?” asked Bridget, clearly very disturbed.

I shrugged again. “I’m not miserable,” I said. “Sometimes I get tired of being groped and fucked, but luckily old men tire out faster than I do, and take a lot of naps. I’m mainly focused on monitoring my pregnancy, and looking forward to being a mum. I think that’ll give my life some purpose and meaning.”

Bridget nodded. “Twins, eh? Sounds like a lot of work.”

“I’m sure they will be,” I said with a smile. “And they’ll give me some leverage. I can’t cater to all the whims of horny old men if a baby needs feeding, or changing, or whatever. And I shouldn’t be naked around them – not once they’re past being babies.”

“Can you wear clothes in the Lodge?” Bridget asked.

I grimaced. “GG doesn’t want me to,” I said, “but I told him I’d be at Hassan’s mercy if I didn’t wear something, at least. We compromised; I can wear panties here.”

“Not much of a compromise!” said Bridget.

“It’s something,” I said. “After being naked for so long, even wearing just a pair of panties feels amazing. And honestly, I’ve got so used to nudity that I feel uncomfortable wearing too much. I can’t go back to jeans and t-shirts – that just isn’t me anymore.”

Bridget sighed. “Your life is something else, Robyn,” she said. “I couldn’t be in your shoes; I’d top myself. But I wish and hope that you can find some happiness – in your friend Wally, in me, in your growing belly, in your babies when they arrive.”

I smiled. “Thanks Bridge,” I said. “I do already. Thanks for being there for me, even though this must seem so weird and wrong to you. I really value the fact that you’ve stuck with me.”

“That’s what friends are for!” she said. “Call me anytime, babe. And if you ever decide you need to escape from that place, let me know and I’ll be right there with a getaway car.”

I laughed. “I’m sure you would,” I said. “Thank you.”

After I had hung up, I put on some panties and went to the living room to watch television. I was in the middle of “I’m a Celebrity” when Hassan walked in. He grinned as he saw me, and kicked off his shoes. “What you watching?” he asked.

“I’m a Celebrity,” I said.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “I like that one – I think I’ll join you.”

He joined me on the sofa, sitting uncomfortably close. After a couple of minutes, he casually put his arm around me. “This is nice, isn’t it?” he said.

“Mm-hmm,” I responded warily.

He turned his face toward mine. “It’s a shame you have to spend your wedding night without your husband,” he said, taking hold of my right breast with his free right hand.

“Hassan…” I said, but he silenced me with a kiss.

I uttered a muffled protest, and tried to lean back away from him, but he held me in place, and slid his hand down my belly, slipping it into the front of my panties. “Come on,” he said, “you might as well not fight the inevitable…”

“Hassan, GG won’t let me live here if you’re just going to rape me!” I gasped.

“Who said anything about rape?” he said, stroking my pussy. “I’m just talking about having a little fun. You don’t mind it when the old geezers touch you like this.”

“They have permission!” I said. “You’ve been banned from having sex with me, remember?”

He hooked his middle finger, and slid it inside me. “That leaves plenty of room for fun,” he said with a disgusting leer. “He didn’t say I couldn’t finger you.”

“I think it was implied!” I replied, clutching his wrist and trying to pull his hand out of my panties.

“I don’t think so,” said Hassan. “How about we just keep watching the program, and I’ll make you feel nice while we watch.”

Resistance seemed futile. “Fine,” I grumbled, and I let go of his wrist. And for the rest of the program, he continued to finger-fuck me – first with one finger, then with two.

When the credits began to roll, he finally pulled his fingers out of my sopping vagina. I took the opportunity to stand up. “I’m going to bed,” I said.

“It’s still early,” he remarked.

“It’s been a busy day,” I said, “and I’m tired.”

He nodded. “All right then,” he said.

I went to the bathroom, removed my makeup, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. There was no shower, but there was a bath, and I resolved to make use of it in the morning.

When I left the bathroom, Hassan was standing in the living room with a glass in his hand. “Nightcap?” he said.

“I can’t drink alcohol, Hassan,” I said. “I’m only sixteen, and I’m pregnant!”

“There’s no alcohol in this,” he told me. “It’s a Moroccan drink – an old family recipe. I promise it won’t harm your babies. It’ll just help you sleep … very soundly.”

I stared at him. He smiled back at me. “Fine,” I said, and I took the glass. “Thank you.” I sipped at it; it was warm and spicy, and vaguely fruity, but I could detect no alcohol. I drank it down.

Then I brushed my teeth again, and went to bed. For a while, in the dim twilight from the window, I watched the door suspiciously. But sleep soon took me, and as Hassan had promised, I slept soundly.

When I woke up the next morning, my panties were on the floor next to my bed, and semen was leaking from my vagina. He had not even tried to conceal what he had done. I sighed. So this was to be my life now. At least I had slept through it.

He had already gone to the home to start his day’s work, so I made myself some breakfast, then enjoyed some alone time in my room, before walking to the care home, naked, to check on GG.

My new husband was fine, with just a big plaster on his forehead to show for last night’s mishap. “Good morning!” he said. “I’m sorry about last night. I hope you weren’t lonely.”

I shook my head. “No, it was nice to have some time to myself. How are you feeling?”

“Chipper!” he said. “Looking forward to spending tonight with you.”

I smiled. “Me too,” I said.

“I can’t offer you a honeymoon,” said GG, “but how does a picnic sound?”

“Really nice!” I said. “Where?”

“Up in the hills,” said GG. “Weystone Meadow. Viv – you know, the photographer – offered to drive us up there, and pick us up again later. Hailey in the kitchen is putting together a packed lunch for us.”

“That sounds wonderful!” I said. “Do I … get to wear some clothes…?”

“Whatever you like,” he said generously. “The less you wear, the more I’ll like it of course, but for today the choice is totally yours.”

“Yay!” I said excitedly. This was unexpectedly considerate of GG. “Thank you, GG!”

“Oh,” he said, “that reminds me … I’m your husband now. You should call me Bernie.”

I laughed. “Oh yes, so I should!” We had, briefly, talked about this a few days ago. “That’ll take some getting used to … Bernie!”

“I’ll give Viv a call,” he said. “We can leave whenever you’re dressed and ready.”

I hurried back to the Lodge, and picked out a short yellow sundress, which I put on along with some clean white panties and a pair of trainers. Feeling happier than I had in a long time, I returned to the care home and rejoined my husband … Bernie! It felt so strange to call him that, to think of him as my husband Bernie.

A few minutes later, Viv picked us up, and drove us up into the hills. The picnic was everything I wanted it to be. We did see a few other people – ramblers and cyclists mainly – but since I was actually wearing clothes today, I did not feel at all self-conscious.

The rain that began shortly after lunch did put a bit of a damper on things, though, and we summoned Viv a little earlier than planned. But all in all, it was a lovely outing.

When we got back to the care home, I got naked without being asked, and took my clothes to the Lodge. Hassan was there, unexpectedly, and he leered at me as I entered.

“I like it when you’re naked,” he said. “I think you should be naked all the time while you’re here.”

“GG … Bernie … told me I could wear panties here,” I said.

“It’s not his house,” said Hassan. “It’s mine.”

“It’s the care home’s,” I pointed out.

“But I’m the one who lives here,” said Hassan. “I have the job that entitles me to live here. You’re here as my guest. And I’m making a house rule that you can’t wear anything here anymore.”

I ground my teeth. “Whatever,” I said. “It’s not like it makes any difference. You’d just pull my panties off while I’m asleep anyway.”

Hassan grinned. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “Anyway, I forgot to give this to you yesterday – things were pretty chaotic – but here you go.” He handed me an envelope.

It was from the hospital. “Thanks,” I said.

I went into my room, shut the door, and tossed my clothes on my bed. Then I opened the envelope, and read the letter inside, my eyes widening in shock as I absorbed its contents.

I practically ran back to the care home. Bernie was not in his room, so I trotted to the common room. He was sitting with Wally, Freddie and Lionel, laughing and chatting, looking very relaxed and happy. I bit my lip, and paused. I had a feeling I was about to ruin his day.

“My beautiful bride!” he said, waving me over. “Come and have a seat!”

“On my cock!” said Lionel, cackling.

“Give over, Lionel,” Wally grumbled. “She’s a married woman now.”

“So?” said Lionel, shrugging. “Bernie doesn’t mind sharing, right Bernie?”

I joined them, pulling over an empty chair. “I … I have news,” I said, as I sat down. “Big news.”

Bernie sobered up at once. “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s my latest blood test,” I said, feeling nervous. I had no idea how this was going to go.

Bernie paled. “What’s wrong?”

“Are the babies all right?” asked Wally anxiously.

“They’re fine,” I said. “It’s just … only one of them is yours, Bernie.”

“What?” he gasped.

“Is that even possible?” asked Freddie in surprise.

I shrugged. “Yes, I suppose so,” I said. “If they’re fraternal twins – which it appears they are. I must have produced two eggs at once – one from each side. It can happen. And it seems they must have been fertilised by sperms from different men.”

“Goodness!” said Bernie, looking shocked, but not particularly upset. “So who’s…”

“It’s Lionel,” I said unhappily. “Lionel’s the father of the other one.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Lionel victoriously. “Oh, but I wish the first test had come up with my name! Then you’d be my wife instead of Bernie’s. Why didn’t they figure this out sooner?”

“I’d guess they just weren’t looking for a second result at that time,” Freddie hazarded. “Once they got a match, they probably stopped looking.”

I nodded. “That sounds likely,” I said. “But … what does this mean? What are we going to do about it?”

Lionel grinned. “Well, I think I’m entitled to equal time with Mum,” he said.

“You already have that!” said Wally irritably. “Bernie’s a generous man, as you pointed out.”

“But they’ll do things together, as husband and wife,” said Lionel insistently. “There’s the wedding night – which I suppose is happening tonight – and the picnic today … and who knows what else? All that should have been me … I mean it would have been me, if they’d happened to pick a different strand of DNA for testing. I don’t begrudge Bernie his wedding, but I’d like as much equality as I can get.”

“Look, Lionel,” said Wally, “it might have been the luck of the draw, but right or wrong, Bernie’s Robyn’s husband now – not you. You should be grateful for any time with Robyn that they are willing to give you. Which, if I were them, would be none!”

“He does have a point, Lionel,” said Freddie.

“Does nobody value fairness?” Lionel demanded. “I’m not asking for anything unreasonable here.”

“Lionel,” I said, “if you want to take me on a picnic, or have a night with me, fine. But are you willing to go halves with Bernie on the costs of raising my twins?”

Lionel looked a little deflated.

Wally cackled. “Ah yes!” he said. “Clever girl, Robyn! Pay up, Lionel! This’ll teach you to use a condom!”

Bernie grinned. “That’s a little unfair,” he said. “Not one of us used condoms, and Lionel’s a man of somewhat limited means. But I do think Robyn has a point. Lionel, if you want to act and be treated like her second husband, by virtue of being the father of one of her babies … then you’ll need to step up and support her in whatever way you can. Not just financially – though I think you should contribute a little – but in terms of your time and effort.”

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” Lionel conceded. “So can I take Robyn on an outing tomorrow?”

Bernie looked at me, and I shrugged. “Sure,” said Bernie, “if you can arrange transport. Viv might be willing to do it again, but we should be careful not to trespass too much on his generosity.”

Lionel snorted. “I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance. Didn’t you see how excited he was yesterday, taking all those photos? I’ll just need to offer him a little grope of Robyn’s boobs, and he’ll happily drive us to John O’Groats and back.”

“You can’t offer my body as payment for things!” I said indignantly.

“Why not?” said Lionel, grinning. “You’ve become quite used to having sex with lots of different men, and don’t seem to mind it. You’re having a ton of sex, and not making a penny out of it. Why not get paid for it?”

“Jeez, Lionel!” Freddie exclaimed.

“You’re not turning her into a prostitute if I have any say in it!” said Wally angrily.

“You don’t,” said Lionel. “Only Robyn can make a decision like that.”

I stared at him, then at Bernie – who, to my astonishment, simply shrugged. “Income is going to be an issue,” he said. “It’s entirely up to you, Robyn, but if you wanted to start making some money by becoming a prostitute, I wouldn’t object.”

“I … I can’t believe you’re suggesting that!” I gasped.

“Why not give it a try?” Lionel suggested. “Tomorrow we’ll call Viv and ask him to give us a lift somewhere. Then, when we’re all in the car together, we’ll casually ask him if he wants to fuck you for the reasonable price of … oh, let’s say, thirty quid?”

“That’s outrageous!” Wally exclaimed.

“You think we should charge more?” asked Lionel. “Maybe – I’m not familiar with the going rates for prostitution these days.”

“It’s outrageous you’re suggesting it at all!” said Wally hotly.

“But as I said, it’s not up to you,” said Lionel. “Think about it, Robyn.”

I thought about it. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt that this was somehow a fitting progression for me, given how sordid and sexual my life had become. And yet … I had to think of my babies, and the life I wanted for them.

Everyone was looking at me expectantly. “No,” I said slowly, “no, I can’t become a prostitute. I can’t do that and effectively raise my babies in a healthy way.”

Lionel looked disappointed … as, I noted, did Bernie. Freddie and Wally both looked relieved.

“However,” I continued, “I suspect, Lionel, that you didn’t want that for me just for the money. I think you revel in the idea of corrupting and debasing me as much as humanly possible.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true…” said Freddie.

But Wally snorted. “I think that’s it exactly,” he said. “Robyn hit the nail on the head.”

“You too, Bernie,” I added. “You’re not quite as much of a sadistic pervert as Lionel, but you’ve certainly enjoyed corrupting me and getting me to have sex with as many men as possible.”

To his credit, Bernie did not deny this. “That’s fair,” he acknowledged.

“Well, you both impregnated me,” I continued, “so congratulations – you own a part of me now. Both of you. I won’t let you pimp me out to strangers, but since you love corrupting me, I’ll let you carry on doing that. Keep pushing my boundaries – get me naked in more and more embarrassing places – take your pornographic photos and movies of me doing increasingly perverted things. Gangbang me in a cinema, or a museum, or a church, or whatever your twisted imaginations come up with. But just keep this in mind: when my babies arrive, they’re going to come first. I’m not going to do anything that jeopardises their well-being. If I’m in the middle of taking care of their needs, leave me alone. You’ll get time with me – I’ll make sure of it – but it’ll just have to happen less frequently. And as the twins get older…”

“Lionel and I will be less able to do that kind of thing anyway,” Bernie said. “If we’re here at all. I don’t suppose either of us has a lot of years left.”

I bit my lip, but nodded. “At some point I’m going to have to find my own way in the world,” I said. “Until then, while you can, I suppose you should just enjoy using me to your heart’s content.”

Lionel grinned. “I’m on board with this plan,” he said.

“Me too,” Bernie agreed.

Freddie looked rather nonplussed.

“I don’t much like the sound of it,” Wally said with a sigh, “but I’m glad at least that you’re taking your destiny into your own hands, Robyn. I’m not fond of parts of your plan, but I’m relieved, and I think it’s encouraging, that you’ve come up with one.”

“Thank you Wally,” I said, smiling at him.

“Now,” said Lionel, rubbing his hands together. “Why don’t you go and fetch the Lubrigel, Robyn, and then get a cucumber from the kitchen? I rather fancy seeing how far I can push it up your bottom.”

“Ugh, Lionel!” said Wally in disgust.

“All right,” I said, and I got to my feet. As I walked out of the room, heading to Bernie’s room to retrieve the Lubrigel, I went over my plan again in my head. It was a good plan, I felt, taking into account my current circumstances, the needs of my husband and the fathers of my babies, and most importantly, the needs of my babies themselves. It was not a perfect plan, by any means, but like Wally, I was glad that I had one.

Unfortunately, like many of the best-laid plans, mine was doomed to failure … for the simple reason that I had not taken into account something I was then only dimly aware of: the utterly depraved and unexpectedly devious mind of a certain Moroccan janitor…

THE END




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