Chapter One – Five Hot Girls

To be honest, it had been a truly revolting day.

“Mum! I’m home!”

Things had actually started out well. Amazingly well, in fact. Not only had Katherine’s school been closed all day, and on a Friday too, but the sun had decided to come out for once and treat the little British town of Woking to some long-awaited heat. So it came as no surprise that Yolanda, one of Katherine’s particularly special friends, had invited her and the rest of the group to her house for a day of lounging around the pool. Some fun, some relaxation, and the sight of four other girls in skimpy swimwear? What could possibly go wrong?

“Hey, Mum? Did you hear me? I’m back!”

Since the 16 year old Katherine had moved to the town a little while ago, her life had been turned completely upside-down. On her very first day at Granthurst School, nestled deep in Woking’s outskirts, Katherine had met a bunch of girls who had wasted no time in claiming her as one of their own. Although it had taken her a while to get used to them, having spent most of her academic life being bullied and teased about her red hair, eventually Katherine came to feel part of the group, accepting the girls as her friends just as they had accepted her.

Of course, it probably helped that they spent a lot of their free time having sex with each other. In fact, Katherine’s very first sleepover saw her very first kiss and a lot more besides. Now she was a proud member of The Bad Girls Club – although nobody really called it that.

“MMMMUUUUMMMM!!”

Katherine drew in breath, preparing to raise her voice even louder, when it dawned on her what was so different about her apartment.

The Pearson’s, both mother and daughter, occupied the top floor of an old, converted Victorian townhouse. The staircase was narrow and not the easiest thing to get a bicycle up. Especially not when it was four stories, the air was close and muggy, and Katherine was trying to fight back an urge to cry with anger. So she hadn’t noticed, once she’d finally fought her way into the apartment and closed the door behind her, that she was clearly the only one there. The doors leading from the small hallway to the apartment’s various rooms were all closed and there was a sense of absolute silence about the place. From the world outside, Katherine could hear a lawnmower chewing its way through some grass nearby. There was a very distant jingle of an ice-cream van making a fortune somewhere in the neighbourhood. But, inside the apartment, there was no sound to be heard at all. She was at home alone.

It was only when Katherine went to get a drink from the kitchen that things became clear. Attached to the fridge door was a small note in distinctive, careful handwriting. On a piece of sticky-backed paper bearing the name of the hospital she now worked at, Katherine’s mother had written four and a bit simple sentences:

‘Gone 2 work early. Dinner in fridge, just heat. DONT STAY UP 2 LATE. Luv u. xxx.’

Of course. Katherine had completely forgotten. With everything that had happened today, it had totally slipped her mind that her mother would be working a night shift. Money was tight and the unsocial hours came with extra pay, so it wasn’t like there was much of a choice. Still, Katherine had been looking forward to having somebody to talk to. Somebody who would listen to her complaining about the day and who would sympathise.

She passed a hand through her hair and grimaced. The ride home, with her head baking beneath her bike helmet, had not done good things to her long locks. So Katherine decided to admit defeat. She put her bottle of water back in the fridge and walked to the bathroom. There she peeled off her sweat-drenched clothes, dumping them on the floor at her feet, and gratefully stepped into the shower. Hopefully that, at least, would make her feel a little better.

❆❆❆

Things had been fine earlier. When Katherine had gotten to Yolanda’s house, at around 1 in the afternoon, the rest of her friends were already there and everybody was in a good mood. That good mood continued as the group headed upstairs, laughing and chatting, to Yolanda’s bedroom to get changed. That proved to be tricky. Five excitable teenagers with a tendency to engage in sapphic fun with each other; in a room with a big bed in it; while they took all their clothes off.

If it wasn’t for Yolanda’s firm insistence that they didn’t do anything while her parents might accidentally hear, for both her mother and father were home for once, they probably would have stayed in there all day.

The girls in that bedroom were Katherine’s closest friends in the whole world. Well, sort of. There was Yolanda, of course, whose designer swimsuit complimented her deep black skin perfectly, and which probably cost more than Katherine’s entire wardrobe combined. But there was also Fiona, a bespectacled girl with an Irish accent and a large mass of curly, brown hair that swallowed hairbrushes whole. Terri, the smallest of the girls, was also the second-oldest – something which had surprised Katherine. The first time she’d seen the petite brunette, she’d automatically assumed the girl was actually from the school year below. And, finally, there was Claire. The awkward one.

Claire was somebody Katherine was really unsure about. There was no doubt that she was good-looking. In fact, Claire was one of those people who had been blessed with features that drove some people crazy, and those they didn’t straight to the plastic surgeon with every penny they owned. Katherine had seen the tall blonde naked several times now and her looks weren’t any worse once the clothes came off. She had the kind of body that was brutally unfair – every inch of it heart-achingly desirable. Quite why Claire persisted in hiding herself away behind the baggy clothes and big hoodie she usually wore was beyond Katherine. If she had Claire’s sort of looks, she’d proudly show them off to the world.

But those looks came with a downside. It wasn’t just that Claire was sarcastic; Katherine could probably cope with that. But she also delighted in making fun of other people’s mistakes and was always first to crack a joke at somebody else’s expense. Behind her back at school, people referred to Claire as the ‘Ice Queen’ and, at first, Katherine had thought it was because of her looks. With those pale blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and that long, light blonde hair, Claire did look like she’d just stepped out of some Scandinavian fairy tale. But no, Katherine very quickly decided that people called Claire the ‘Ice Queen’ for one very simple reason: she was mean, plain and simple. Which was a difficult thing to say about a friend. Honestly, Katherine thought Claire was a bit of a problem..

Since they couldn’t get up to anything particularly rude the girls eventually left Yolanda’s room and, now dressed in a variety of mismatched swimsuits and bikinis, made their way to the poolside. That’s really where the issues began.

Yolanda’s parents were entrepreneurs who worked very hard at whatever it was they did. Katherine had been told once how Mr and Mrs Mason made their money but she hadn’t understood a word of it. What she did know was that their job often called for them to be away overnight and that, when this happened, Yolanda would often call her friends to give her some company. Sometimes this company came with nudity attached, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes it’d be the whole group, sometimes it’d be just who was available. But the result was that Katherine had gotten used to being at Yolanda’s house when her parents weren’t there. And everyone else probably had too. Which meant that nobody had realised that, on a hot day like today, Yolanda’s mum and dad might very well want to use the pool as well...

Yolanda’s family had money, but they didn’t have that much money. The pool was big, yes, but it wasn’t that big. Especially not with all five girls and Yolanda’s parents combined. And besides, the girls silently agreed that it would just feel too awkward. It’d be too much like intruding on the Mason’s personal time. Katherine, in particular, had only ever seen Yolanda’s parents once before, and that was in passing. The thought of them seeing her in a swimsuit up close, even if it was only a very modest and simple one, was just too anxiety-inducing to bear. So the girls, as a group, decided to wait their turn, sitting on the patio furniture, soaking up the sun.

But the longer they sat, the more the sun bore down on them, and the more their patience started to fray.

Katherine, hiding firmly in the shade of a wide parasol, found herself starting to nod off. She tried to fight it, but her body had other ideas. It was warm, the conversation had run dry, and there was nothing going on. She was halfway through a dream in which she was attempting, and failing, to brush Fiona’s wild curls when a voice snapped her back to reality.

“Hey, here’s a thought for everybody. How come you can eat sun cream?”

Katherine opened her eyes. The question had come from Terri, whose small frame was perched in a chair a short distance from her. The raven-haired girl was peering at the back of a bottle, while she rubbed what was presumably its contents onto her upper chest and neck. It was strange to see her like that. Katherine had gotten so used to seeing her friend wearing her gold chain around her neck, a chain from which dangled a small locket, that the sight of Terri without it looked weird. Of course, Katherine knew the chain and locket were safely back indoors. Terri never wore it when there was a chance she could lose it. But still, she wore it so often that without it, the girl looked under-dressed.

She’s wearing a bikini, you can’t get much more under-dressed than that. Katherine thought to herself. Now, what was that nonsense she was saying...?

“What are y’ on about now?” asked Fiona, her distinctive Irish tones echoing Katherine’s thoughts.

“Well, this has an expiry date, right?” Terri waved the bottle she was holding. “Why’d they do that if it ain’t got any food in it?”

Fiona made a polite half-laugh, the sort made in recognition of a joke made that wasn’t actually that funny, and returned her attention to her magazine.

“No, seriously.” Terri insisted after a moment or two of further silence. “Why’d they do it? It’s gotta be edible, right? Or, like, bits of it go mouldy or somethin’.”

“Wait, for real? Y’ really asking me that?”

‘Yeah, ‘course. I mean, it’s gotta make sense, right?”

Fiona removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Terri...” she sighed wearily.

At the sight of Fiona’s discomfort, Katherine found herself unable to avoid butting in. Although she’d grown comfortable with her friends, she still had trouble speaking out. The introvert in her had been in control for too long. But there was something about the look on Fiona’s face that made Katherine feel like she had to help out somehow.

“It’s the various chemicals, Te,” she bluffed, “they lose their effectiveness after a while.”

It sounded good and it might even have been true. All Katherine really knew was that, whatever was in the stuff, she needed one with a high SPF and a lot of it. Mother Nature had seen fit to give her every redhead cliché in the book: pale skin, freckles, and an ability to be sunburnt really easily. There was a reason why she had been the first one to sit in the shade.

“I guess...” Terri replied, doubtfully.

“Don’t tell me you thought it had actual cream in it?” came a new voice.

Oh, good. thought Katherine. I was really hoping Claire would join in. I’m sooo happy about it.

“Well, d’uh. It’s called sun cream, innit? They ain’t allowed to call it somethin’ it’s not. That’s, like, against Tradin’ Standards or somethin’.”

“Eh, we jus’ called it ‘factor’ back in Ulster,” said Fiona, not looking up from her magazine. “Makes much more sense. High factor, low factor, that sort o’ thing.”

“Isn’t it called sunblock over in America? They have different names for everything over there,” said Katherine, hoping to force the conversation onto a different topic before things went bad.

Her friends were known to argue. They bickered the way that other groups of friends talked about shoes, or music, or whatever it was that so-called ‘normal’ friends did. But, for all her lack of experience with other people, Katherine was slowly becoming an expert on the difference between a usual ‘hey I’m alive and so are you’ argument and a full-on blazing row. The tone in Terri’s and Claire’s voices definitely suggested things were heading towards the latter.

Claire wasn’t deterred by Katherine’s feeble attempt to change the subject. She’d scented blood and was going for the kill.

“Just because it’s white and gooey doesn’t mean it’s cream, Terri, it’s just a name. Anybody can tell that. Hell, you’re a squirter – you think that’s actual juice that comes flying out of you?”

“Claire! Keep your damn voice down!” hissed Yolanda, speaking up from the sun-lounger she was stretched out upon.

“What?” Claire replied, a little too quickly and a little too defensively.

“You know very well what! My parents are just over there.”

“And? There’s no way they can hear us.”

“’Specially not with th’ noise they’re making. So much splashing.” Fiona chimed in.

“That’s not the point! You all know the rules – we don’t talk about, you know, that stuff if either Mum or Dad could hear.”

Fiona put her magazine down and arched a eyebrow. “Th’ rules?” she echoed.

“Ha! You’re just worried that they’ll find out the truth about you. If only they knew what you got up to behind their back...”

“Now who exactly are ya ta be setting rules? Jus’ ‘cos it’s yah house.”

“Keep your bloody voices down!!”

Underneath the parasol, Katherine sat and whimpered. As the argument between Yolanda, Claire and Fiona continued, it got more and more intense and more and more loud. And she had absolutely no idea how to stop it from getting worse. Any minute now, Yolanda’s parents would notice, or somebody would say something they shouldn’t just that little bit too loudly, then they’d all be in trouble. She glanced over at Terri. Thankfully, the brunette had gone back to her study of the suncream bottle and was ignoring the escalating verbal battle. But it was surely only a matter of time before she joined in as well. Terri never knew when, or even how, to stay quiet.

I hate it when stuff like this happens! What do I do? We’re all supposed to be friends, aren’t we? How do I stop this? WHAT DO I DO??

As Katherine fretted, the argument raged on. Before long, the three girls were talking over each other and starting to rise up out of their chairs, as if getting ready to trade blows.

“I didn’t have to invite you over, you know.”

“I don’t know why you did, since you’re apparently so embarrassed by us.”

“I’d say she’s more than fecking embarrassed. It’s more like-“

“Incoming,” Terri warned in a quiet voice.

The single word, softly but firmly spoken, acted like a bucket of cold water thrown over a bunch of squabbling cats. Yolanda, Fiona, and even Claire, they all instantly stopped half-shouting at each other and sank back down onto their chairs, each girl looking more sullen than the next.

Katherine’s first response when she followed Terri’s gaze was to feel immense relief. Oh, thank God, she thought. But then her brain caught up with her eyes, and that relief turned into acute embarrassment. Oh, came her next thought, bloody hell.

Katherine had never known her father. He didn’t stick around when he found out her mother was pregnant. She didn’t know his name, nor did she really care. But one result of that was, combined with her non-existent social life, she’d spent her sixteen years of life without ever seeing a man without his shirt on.

For God’s sake, girl. Get a hold of yourself. That’s Yolanda’s father!

“Girls, everything okay over here?”

Don’t blush, don’t you dare blush.

“We’re fine, Dad. Everything’s fine.”

“Your mother and I thought we heard some raised voices.”

Whatever Yolanda said next, Katherine missed it entirely. Mr Mason had chosen that moment to shift his body slightly. It wasn’t much, barely anything at all, but the result was that the sun now glinted off his still-wet chest. Katherine felt her cheeks glow, and a familiar tingle start deep in her pelvis

.

Damnit girl, your sunglasses aren’t that dark. If he looks at you, he’ll see you looking at him. And you are so not looking at his face.

“You’re all probably just hot,” said Yolanda’s mother, joining her husband with a towel wrapped round her head. “Why don’t you go and cool off in the water? You’ll feel much better for it.”

This was nearly too much for poor Katherine. A few months ago, her libido was all but non-existent. However, thanks to her friends, she was finding it easier and easier to get turned on. Now that she knew she was sexually attractive, and had a lot of sex to prove it, Katherine had found that her gaze was lingering on other people in ways it never did before. So she wasn’t surprised that the sight of Yolanda’s mother in a wet swimsuit sent her pulse skyrocketing. But, coming hot on the heels of Katherine all but mentally undressing Yolanda’s father, it was a wonder she was able to still think straight at all.

When Katherine had been a virgin, her sex drive had been a sleeping cat reluctant to stir. But, now it had been awakened, the cat was fast turning into a tiger, keep to devour anyone that looked edible.

The other four girls, though, seemed completely unaffected by the gorgeous adults standing in front of them, two hot black bodies so tantalisingly near and yet so far. As far as Katherine’s friends were concerned, the pool was free, and nothing else mattered. Reluctantly, she forced herself out of the year and, trying hard to ignore the urgent feelings between her thighs, went to join the rest of the group in the water.

The pool achieved the seemingly impossible – the intense argument of only a few minutes ago was over, forgotten beneath the shrieks of the delight as the young women played and splashed. But Katherine hadn’t forgotten. She knew just how close things had come to really turning nasty. And she knew just which particular blonde to blame.

❆❆❆

Later that evening, back at the small apartment that she shared with her mother, Katherine stepped out of the bathroom and sighed with contentment. The shower had been exactly what she had needed. She had scrubbed away the stress of the day, letting it vanish down the drain in a cascade of hot, soapy water. She felt cooled, calmed, refreshed, and like a whole new woman.

She also felt like a glass of orange juice.

Ordinarily, Katherine would head to her bedroom next before doing anything else. She’d finish drying off, then get changed. It was only the early evening, and nowhere near time for bed, but she would probably have put on a nightie and fresh pair of knickers. It wasn’t like she was going out anywhere again today. No point getting dressed up when it would be just her and her mother.

But today wasn’t ordinary. Katherine’s mother wasn’t there – she had the entire place to herself. So, with a big towel wrapped around her body and a smaller one wrapped around her hair, Katherine walked straight from the bathroom to the kitchen, leaving damp footprints in the hallway carpet as she went.

The fruit juice was just what she had been after, and Katherine drained the glass in one, long, gulp. Once it was empty, she placed the glass down on the counter and stood, hands loose by her side, simply just enjoying the sensation of being in the apartment with so little on. To somebody else, wearing only a towel at home might be nothing special, but Katherine was a late bloomer. This was the first time she could remember ever doing anything so bold. Even when she spent evenings in her nightdress, she always had underwear on. When her boobs started to get big, she even made sure to wear a bra underneath as well. To put it bluntly, Katherine was acutely aware that the only thing stopping her from being in the kitchen stark naked was a tatty and faded bath-towel with a duck pattern on it. And, while the red hair on top of her head was wrapped up and protected from the elements, the hair between her legs, every bit as red, was almost completely exposed to the air that came in from underneath-

The air... I forgot to open the bathroom window! I need to let the steam out!

Katherine quickly stepped to the kitchen window and undid the latch. As she did so, the towel covering her body came loose and started to slip. She hurriedly snatched at the fallen fabric and was about to pull it back when something she saw outside made her freeze. Four floors below, in the garden at the back of Katherine’s apartment building, stood a man and a woman. The man was doing something to a lawnmower, which must have been the one Katherine heard earlier. The woman was holding a pair of shears in one hand, while the other was massaging her lower back, and she was looking straight up at Katherine’s kitchen window.

Katherine’s blood ran cold. She was suddenly very aware of just how far down her towel had gone. While she was still decent, technically at least, a scandalous expanse of pale-skinned breast had been set free. If her reactions had been slower, Katherine would now be flashing Mrs Mitchell - her neighbour from downstairs.

Mr and Mrs Mitchell met Katherine and her mother on the day they moved in. They were a kind, retired couple who gave the Pearson family a basket of fruit to welcome them to the neighbourhood. It was thoughtful and appreciated. Then Mrs Mitchell cooed over their new neighbours’ vibrant red hair, which, to a girl who had spent the last few years being bullied for just that thing, was definitely not appreciated. Katherine knew nothing rude was meant by it, and she did her best to be polite every time she saw either of the pair on her travels. But showing her breasts to the old lady would probably not be thought of as polite at all. Slowly, Katherine raised her free hand, the one not currently protecting her dignity, and waved a timid hello. But Mrs Mitchell didn’t respond. She didn’t wave back or nod or anything – she just kept staring.

Oh shit, she’s pissed. Bet she complains to Mum and then I’m really going to be in trouble. How the hell could I ever explain that-

Abruptly, just as Katherine was starting to work herself up into a panic, the woman in the garden below put down her shears, took out from her pocket what appeared to be a pair of secateurs, and got to work trimming a pot plant. Far from being annoyed at Katherine’s behaviour, Mrs Mitchell didn’t show any sign of even knowing the girl was there.

Wait a minute, thought Katherine. I’m all the way up here. And the sun’s over there. So that’s got to cause some glare or reflection or something. And she’s probably not got the best vision... Can they just not see me at all?

A unusual thought came upon Katherine then, standing there in the kitchen with nothing but a towel on. It was a thought that the innocent sixteen-year-old of a few months ago would never have even considered. But while she was still sixteen, she was definitely no longer innocent. Taking a deep breath and keeping her eyes on the figures below, she let go of her bath towel.

In an ideal world, the towel would have gracefully floated to the ground, settling in a nice, aesthetically pleasing pile. In reality, though, the thing fell to the floor on top of Katherine’s feet, lurking there in an untidy heap. She quickly kicked the bath towel behind her, into the middle of the kitchen, where it was swiftly followed by the towel she had wrapped around her hair. Damp strands of red hair flopped against the back of her neck, and she shivered as a single rivulet of water started its slow journey down her spine.

No, be honest, Katherine. That’s not why you shivered. That’s not what’s got your heart pounding again. You’re naked. You’re naked in the same room where you and Mum had breakfast earlier today, and you like it.

It was like the morning after she’d lost her virginity, when she attended her very first sleepover. Sitting on one of Yolanda’s expensive sofas, watching cartoons and sipping coffee, all without a single stitch of clothing on. It felt incredibly natural and liberating, while at the same time, every inch of her skin tingled with the erotic possibilities.

Can you see me, Mrs Mitchell? Katherine asked of the busy figure below. Can you see the naked schoolgirl just a few metres away from you? Do you think my hair is ‘enchanting’ now, Mrs Mitchell?

She moved her hands slowly up her stomach, her palms bumping along the outline of her ribs, until she was at her breasts. Katherine was proud of her boobs. They weren’t big, they weren’t small, and one was ever so slightly larger than the other, but she was proud of them anyway. There was more than enough for her to cup one in each hand. A little adjustment and her nipples were now placed squarely between their thumbs and forefinger.

Do you ever do this, Mrs Mitchell? Do you ever stand naked in the middle of a room and just marvel at how amazing it feels? Do you still have sex with your husband, Mrs Mitchell? Does he come up behind you while you’re standing there, showing yourself to him? Does he put his hands around your chest, Mrs Mitchell, and does he stroke your teats like this?

That was a bad idea. As Katherine had slowly learned how to deal with being a sexually active young woman, so too had her body slowly learned just what it liked to have done to it. And having her breasts played with was a massive turn-on for her. Only a few days ago, Yolanda had brought her off in the changing rooms of a big name clothes shop. She hadn’t need to even touch Katherine below the waist – Katherine had been so aroused that Yolanda’s expert tongue on her chest had been more than enough. So, standing stark naked in the family kitchen, rolling her hardening nipples between her fingers, sent Katherine’s libido into overdrive. The desire she had felt earlier, while staring at Yolanda’s parents, came rushing back in a flood.

Screw the Mitchell’s. What if it was the Mason’s down there instead? What if it had been Mrs Mason in the garden, watching through the window as Katherine undressed for her? Would she turn to tell her husband what she was seeing? Or would she stay quiet and keep the view all to herself? What if she was watching as Mr Mason was the one behind Katherine, his big hands caressing her and claiming her body for himself?

Yolanda’s parents were darker-skinned than their daughter. Her father had skin the colour of a rich, strong coffee, but her mother was as black as night itself. Yolanda’s mum was impossibly stylish, pulling off with ease, in Katherine’s opinion, the sort of grace and glamour that Yolanda herself could only hope to match. It was all too easy for the young redhead to imagine the older woman standing in front of her, her arms crossed in stern disapproval. But Mr Mason wouldn’t let that stop him. He was the sort of man who took what he wanted in life. So he would keep going, pawing at Katherine’s tits and squeezing them hard enough to hurt.

Katherine’s knees buckled and she had to shoot out a hand to steady herself. There was no doubt what her imaginings were doing to her. Unaware of what was happening above them, Mr and Mrs Mitchell continued to work in their garden. She briefly thought about stopping, or perhaps finishing things off in her bedroom, but she was already too far gone for that.

Mrs Mason was obviously a firm woman. Somebody who believed in people behaving and doing what they were told. She’d definitely be angry at the sight of a naked teenager being groped in front of her and she would definitely want to inflict some punishment. Katherine took her free hand and placed it between her legs. It was no surprise at all to find she was soaked down there, her lips swollen, radiating heat, and slick with juice.

Yolanda’s mum wouldn’t be pleased by that. She’d be angry at seeing what Fiona’s assault on Katherine’s breasts had-

Wait. Fiona? Fiona?! Where did she come from? Wasn’t I thinking about Yolanda’s dad instead? What is wrong with my head?

Mrs Mason would definitely be displeased by Katherine’s puzzled distraction, and she’d want to get the girl’s attention. Katherine, her fevered mind lost in her fantasy, spread her legs a little and delivered a sharp slap to her newly exposed pussy.

“Are you paying attention now, little girl?” Mrs Mason would say.

“Ah, but I think y’ haf ta do it again. Yer gel didn’t get it tha first time.” The Irish girl holding Katherine captive would add, her fingers cruelly pulling on the redhead's nipples.

Another slap, harder this time. Katherine cried out in a groan of pleasure and pain. Her pussy pulsed, every throb matching her thumping heartbeat.

“You’re a little slut, aren’t you girl? Spending your time fucking my daughter. Is there any tightness left in you at all?”

Katherine’s middle and ring finger delved deep inside her, her lips reluctantly but eagerly parting way to let them through. If she had thought the outside of her vulva was wet, it was nothing compared to what was going on in the interior.

“Taste yourself, slut. You’ve eaten everybody else’s pussy, so why not eat your own?”

“An’ y’ know mine was th’ best, right Kat?”

Katherine closed her eyes as she brought her fingers to her lips. The scent of her own body assailed her, filling her head with the fragrance of organic, animal, feminine desire. And the taste was even better. Katherine loved the taste of pussy. Every one of her friends not only looked different beneath their knickers, but they smelled different and they tasted different too. And each one was a meal that she could happily eat for hours on end. Given the chance, once her sex drive had fully kicked in, she’d go down on the girls until her jaw fell off. Once her fingers were clean, once every single drop of her own cream licked up and swallowed down, she sent her hand back down for more.

“Look at you, whore. Just a hole to be filled. A slut to be fucked however her friends, however my beautiful daughter chooses.”

She opened her eyes and stared, unseeing, at the view outside the window. ‘A hole to be filled’. Katherine had done a lot since her first time, she’d achieved a lot of sexual firsts that she’d never even imagined she’d ever be able to do. But there was one thing that the girls hadn’t done with her yet. One experience she’d yet to have. And, with her body desperate for sexual satisfaction, there was now nothing she wanted more.

Quickly, she scanned the kitchen. There had to be something suitable, something that would do the trick. Then she spotted the ideal thing. Hanging on a garish novelty hook, next to the fruit bowl, was a newly-acquired bunch of bananas. Some were yellow, some were still, but they were all long. And they were all thick.

Katherine was drowning in desire by this point. Yolanda’s parents earlier, being naked in the kitchen, playing with herself in front of the Mitchells, not to mention the thoughts she’d been having as she touched herself... That had all mixed with the fact that Katherine’s friends had set her libido free and allowed it to roam. Almost all of her conscious being was focused on just one thing – getting herself off. But there was a tiny part of her watching what she was doing. That part of her, appalled at the dreadful cliché that the rest of her was contemplating, demanded that she at least be practical. It demanded that she be sensible in her depravity.

It was incredibly difficult to choose a banana that was firm enough and didn’t have any sharp bits on the end. It was even harder to take it to the sink to wash it. In Katherine’s mind, Mrs Mason and Fiona both demanded that she just take the thing and screw herself with it straight away. But she managed to have enough presence of mind to be able sit down at the small breakfast table and lean back with her legs spread wide open. She took a deep breath and paused.

Do I really want to do this? She asked herself through the sex-crazed fog. This is way bigger than fingers – it could really hurt. And besides, do I really want to fuck myself with a damn banana of all things?

There was no answer. The visions of Yolanda’s mother and Fiona had gone quiet. It seemed like the whole world was paused, waiting to see what would happen next.

At the thought of Fiona, the girl from Northern Ireland with the monstrous mess of curls, Katherine smiled. They hadn’t spent that much time together as just the two of them on their own, but Katherine could easily imagine just what her friend would say if she was in that kitchen now. And she could imagine what Fiona would tell her to do. She adjusted her grip on the banana and started to slowly push the fruit deep inside herself, sliding it in inch by yellow inch.

It felt weird. Good but weird. Very good, in fact. Katherine had prepared herself for perhaps a little discomfort or even pain, but there was none. Just the sensation of something solid, cold, and thick gradually pushing her open. It was like she could feel every bump on the banana’s skin as it penetrated her. In her minds eye, she could see her labia being forced to open wide, sliding along the hard object she was filling herself up with. And fill was the word. In Katherine’s lustful desperation, she had picked a banana that was far larger and far longer than anything she’d ever had inside herself so far. This was definitely not the same as a finger.

The banana stopped, unable to be pushed in any further. Katherine looked down, somehow unable to truly believe what was going on. She could feel a large, hard, thing inside her, and she could see the tip of It sticking out, but it was still crazy to think about.

There’s a banana inside me. she shouted in her head, trying to wrap her head around what she’d done. There’s a actual fucking banana inside me right now!

“Ah, but Kat,” said the imagined voice of Fiona, “it’s not a ‘fucking’ banana right now, is it? Ya know what ya have ta do...”

Slowly at first, paying attention to every sensation, Katherine slid the banana in and out of her. It felt nice, like nothing she could ever have imagin-

“Stop over-analyzing everything, slut.” Yolanda’s mother growled in the girl’s head. “Fuck yourself with it. Now.”

Katherine built up speed and, before long, her breath was coming in short pants as she slammed the fruit into and out of her sex. Without thinking, she moved her free hand to her clit, hard and aching for contact, and that’s when things took on a whole new level. Everything around her vanished, the fantasies of both Fiona and Mrs Mason fading back into the recesses of her mind. She could no longer hear the sound of the lawnmower outside, indeed all thought of her neighbours had gone. All that there was, all that Katherine could focus on at that moment, was the feelings flowing from her groin.

Dimly, she became aware of a small rivulet of sweat forming in the small of her back. As she continued to piston the thick banana in and out of herself, her fingers a blur at her now very engorged clitoris, she felt the sweat slowly move down her body until it slipped between her ass cheeks. There, it would no doubt have mingled with the juices pouring out of her, soaking into the seat cushion and forever marking what she was doing. But she just didn’t care. The only thing Katherine cared out about was just how insanely, incredibly, fucking good it felt.

Even the best things can’t last forever. Katherine could ignore the dull ache growing in her wrist, but not the pressure growing in the rest of her. She tried her best to prolong the pleasure, to eke it out so it lasted for ever, but it was no good. Slipping the banana out didn’t help, her body yearned for it so badly it just had to go back in, her pussy eagerly welcoming and embracing its new lover. She willed her body to resist, to let the waves of intensity pass over her without taking her with them. She bit her lip, she curled her toes, but nothing worked. When once she found it impossible to give herself an orgasm, now she was finding it impossible to stop it.

Finally, in desperation, unwilling to give up on the sheer ecstasy that was flowing through her, Katherine tried to think of something that wasn’t sexy. She tried to fill her delirious sixteen-year-old mind with anything, anything at all that could even slow her down just a little bit.

“I love watching ya come, Kitty-Kat.”

Her orgasm hurt. Her every muscle clenched, tensing hard, as she came. She couldn’t move her hand, she couldn’t move her fingers, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t even blink. Everything within her rode the shockwave of pleasure so powerful that it took her over completely, body and soul. The pressure within her continued to build, extending her orgasm over and over again, until Katherine felt she might explode. Then it peaked, releasing her body and causing her to shake all over as her final, and most powerful, orgasm tore through her.

As the pleasure subsided, Katherine slowly realised that she was staring at the ceiling. She had no memory of looking up at any point. In fact she had no coherent memory of the last few moments at all. It was all just a blur, tinged with the memory of pleasure so strong that her whole being felt exhausted.

Finally, after a few minutes that felt like hours, she returned to Earth enough that she could start thinking clearly again. She was still breathing heavily and her heart was racing, but she was able to think back on what had just happened.

Well. Well, well, well... What the hell was that about, Katherine? Mrs Mason... Really? REALLY?! And the stuff you imagined her saying... What exactly is going on inside your head, hmm?

She had no answer for her own questions but felt too mentally bruised to think about them any further. Absent-mindedly shifting in her chair, Katherine was reminded of something – an insistent presence where there normally wasn’t one. She reached down and, wincing slightly as it brushed against certain tender areas, she extracted the banana. It was surprisingly warm and, even more surprising, slightly squashed.

Guess I really can squeeze, huh? Check me out: Katherine the girl with the super-powered vagina. She gave a small, worn-out laugh. Oh well, at least I can dispose of the evidence.

And so it was that a few minutes later, half-heartedly chewing, Katherine found herself back in the bathroom, picking up her abandoned clothes to take to the laundry basket. She hadn’t gotten dressed and was still naked, but wasn’t in the mood to do anything else naughty for a while. Her escapade in the kitchen had taken a lot out of her.

PING!

All Katherine wanted to do now watch some TV in the lounge and zone out for the rest of the evening. The fact that she’d be doing that in the nude seemed to the drained teen to be a pleasantly relaxing idea rather than a massive turn-on. She was done.

PING!

The only question was whether she had enough energy left to go back to the kitchen to get another drink first. Maybe she could-

PING!

Fuzzily, Katherine realised the chirpy, electronic noise was coming from the pile of clothes she was holding. She put it down and rooted around inside, eventually producing her phone which excitedly revealed that things had been happening while she’d been busy. She tapped in her PIN and opened the group chat.

Bloody hell, I’m shattered. she thought as she scrolled. Thank god it’s Saturday tomorrow. I could do with a lie-in and a nice, easy day to recover.

Then she stared at the words on the screen and her heart sank. There were lots of messages but the one that had her attention was from Yolanda. It started with a “Don’t forget tomorrow!”, then it continued for a while before finishing with a cheerful “See you there!”.

Katherine reread the message, then reread it a third time in case she had misunderstood. But sadly, she had not. She swallowed her last piece of banana and closed her eyes.

Well, she thought, there goes my Saturday.

Shit.

(To Be Continued In Part 2...)