Chapter 4

I was about to leave the bathroom when I noticed one of the pictures on the wall. It was of a nude brunette and blonde in a bathtub. At first, I assumed it was my cousins, Betty and Veronica. They had plenty of pictures of themselves scattered around the house, and it looked like it could’ve been their bathroom back in Surrey, England.

But this was an old photo. The caption read, “Alice and Sheridan, 1972.” It was my mom and my aunt—only a few years after I was born. I couldn’t figure out why they’d be sharing a bath at that point or why someone would’ve thought to snap a picture of them like that.

Archie caught me staring once the girls had left the bathroom. “Fancy looking’ at my mum’s bazookas or your mum’s arse?” he asked, grinning like he’d caught me getting turned on by our mom’s nudity.

“Yeah,” I replied without hesitation, still staring at the picture. “But not because I’m into it. This photo was taken in 1972—that’s three years after I was born. I don’t get why they’d be sharing a bath at that point, let alone taking a picture of it.”

“Gives me a proper idea. If I am really your assistant, the girls should have to share a bath tonight rather than get to take it separately. They could fit snugly in our tub together. The way it normally works is I take a bath, then whichever one of them behaved themselves gets to go next while the water is still warm and relatively clean, and then whichever one of them gave Mum the hardest time of the night has to deal with the muck and cold water.”

“You are really my assistant, I appreciate your advice,” I said. I didn’t want to say that I had no clue how things were really supposed to work, and I didn’t want to look naïve. “That way, they both get clean, warm water, and no one is left with the mucky cold water.”

Archie frowned like I’d missed the point entirely. “I think the idea is to tease my sisters a bit, make ‘em flop about, and squeeze in together so they don’t get too full of themselves. If you allow girls to get too comfortable, they start thinking they’re entitled to shit like privacy and special treatment.” He gave me a sideways glance. “Girls don’t need modesty. Keeps ‘em in check when they know they’ve got nothing to hide.”

You think that’s what someone was doing with this picture? Making your mom and mine flop around with their tits out?” I asked, glancing back at Archie. The girls were out of sight—probably up to no good—but I had a few questions for my cousin I didn’t want them to hear. I wasn’t about to let on that. I had no clue how any of this was supposed to work. If they thought I wasn’t speaking from experience, and how would they accept that my decisions were fair, if I didn’t even understand how things worked?

Archie shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world to make girls bathe together. “They were close back in Surrey, weren’t they? Girls don’t have modesty like that, not in our family. It’s just a snap. It’s not much different than when you see those tribal women in Africa with their tits out on National Geographic. No one makes a fuss ‘cause it’s normal for ‘em to be walking about with their hams out.”

“So, if someone walked in while you were taking a piss and took a picture of your dick, then that would be a violation of privacy, though?” What Archie told me about tribal women resonated with me. That was their normal – to walk around with their tits out. But I was still curious how things worked in Archie’s world. I’d always been taught guys, and girls should have the same expectations when it came to privacy. But it didn’t work that way in my aunt’s house—and, obviously, not in how my mom was raised either.

“What are you on about, mate?” He shook his head like it was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. “Obviously, for a guy, it’s different. A bloke’s meant to have some dignity—you don’t just flash your dick around like it’s nothing. You’d be a streaker, or a flasher, wouldn’t you? But girls? Everyone knows what tits look like. My sisters’ itty-bitty titties aren’t large enough to warrant more than a laugh.”

My aunt had playboy-sized jumbo tits, but as far as I could tell, my cousins had cute peach-shaped tits that were perfectly well-developed for girls their age. I wouldn’t call them flat-chested at all.

“You don’t put pants on a dog just ‘cause you wear ‘em. Girls aren’t supposed to wear trousers, either. In America, we see it all the time. It’s been giving my sisters uppity ideas, so it’s refreshing to have a sitter that isn’t either trying to hump my sisters or let them get away with bloody murder.”

I nodded and turned to him, “I appreciate that, Archie.”

He paused, then added, “Back home, lads at the construction site take their shirts off when it’s hot—no one bats an eye. That’s normal for men on the construction site. It’s hot, sweaty work, and no one gives a fig. Out in the British farm country, for girls —tops off, tits out when there is work to be done. It’s not a big deal.”

I glanced at Archie, still trying to wrap my head around it. “So ... is it meant to normalize women’s tits, so they aren’t sexual, or is it meant to humiliate the girls?”

I felt like it was the latter, but I couldn’t entirely be sure. In the case of men on a construction site, it’s perfectly normal and not sexual at all – at least not to me. I glanced at Archie, still trying to piece it all together. “So ... is it meant to humiliate them, having their tits on display? Or is that just normal for them?”

My cousin raised an eyebrow like it wasn’t a tricky question, and he was telling me what I already knew. “It’s normal to humiliate and embarrass girls a bit, yeah,” he said matter-of-factly. “Teasing is normal. Mum and I do it out of love. I think if we stopped and didn’t care enough to give wind them up for their tarty attitudes, they’d think we don’t care.”

“Could you be supportive and just accept that they like sex and showing off their bodies without making rude comments about them?”

“Are you taking the piss?” Archie asked. I wasn’t familiar with that expression, and since we were in the bathroom, I thought he was asking me if I had to use the restroom. “Guys are expected to be responsible; you don’t thrive on attention, and the girls are vain little twats who have to have their egos fed. You heard them; they wouldn’t have thought twice if they could flash their arse and cunnie to him when he rings up with a pizza. They are worried he’ll have a laugh when he sees what they’ve got stuffed up their holes and find out why.”

I nodded and told him I was just trying to make sure we were on the same page.

“Yeah, girls love attention, but if no one calls them out for their shit, they start thinking that it doesn’t stink. Teasing them is like a public service to keep them from getting too full of themselves.”

“So, you don’t think it’s cruel to punish them this way?”

“It’s much crueler to let them behave like utter trollops who’ve no one to tell them no or keep them from being lazy brats! Just the other day, Archie rolled his eyes like he didn’t even have to think hard for an example. “I told both of them to bring me a cup of tea while I was watching TV. Simple enough, right? They show up an hour later—it’s cold. And Betty? She drank half of it on the way, said she ‘just wanted to make sure it wasn’t too hot.’” He shook his head, clearly still annoyed.

“Did you tell your mom?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “She made them both stand in the corner for an hour, bare-assed, while I drank my tea the right way. And when I was done, she gave them ten swats, each with the paddle that bears your mum’s name for being lazy little twats.” He chuckled. “Didn’t hear a peep from them after that, and the next time I asked for tea, it was piping hot with the milk just how I like it.”

I could definitely picture that scenario happening. “So, basically, they’re constantly punished just for being born with tits and a cunt?”

“Is that how it is at your place? It’s not that strict here, mate. “Is that how it is at your place? Girls are flighty, egotistical, and lack ambition. They’d rather stay in bed fingering themselves than do any proper work. I think it’d be cruel and pointless to punish my sisters just for being born like barmy cows. They can’t help it; they were born thick-headed. If they were punished just for waking up with tits and slits, nothing they did would ever matter, and they would probably spit in my tea every time. although, after seeing how they treated my toothbrush, I am not so sure they don’t.”

I liked the phrase “slits and tits” because it rhymed. I wondered if he had thought of that on the fly. British people seemed quite clever with a turn of phrase. I snickered and said we aren’t quite that strict at my house either, but I kind of wished we were.

“Aye, my sisters are a handful, but I love them loads, and I wouldn’t have them any other way. The teasing and discipline is good for them. Are you asking me all this because you’re worried, I’d feel sorry for ‘em, having those brushes up their bums?” He chuckled. “Honestly, I noticed a change in their attitudes straight away. I wish they had to harpoon their holes with those brushes every night—not just when you babysit. It’s not like I am ever going to use mine again, and I doubt Mum would anyway. The brush would find more use adjusting their attitude than in the trash.

“Well, thank you, Archie!”

“And not for nothing, Mr. Dalton, but I think Mum will have you back again. The girls are behaving for you far better than they were the last two sitters. We should probably check on them before they get into another randy mess out in the living room – but I did have one more question for you.”

Go ahead,” I said, curious about what Archie had on his mind. “I was just making sure I wasn’t being too strict on the girls.”

“I was curious because I think you might be spoiling them a bit. You aren’t REALLY going to let my sisters have pizza when the delivery guy comes, are you?” Archie asked, his eyebrows raised like I’d lost my mind. “I heard you say you were ordering a pizza for all of us.”

“Sure, why not?” I was genuinely puzzled and wanted to know why they had to be that strict with the girls.

Archie looked at me like I’d just sprouted a second head. “You let your sister have pizza, candy, soda, and treats at your place, do ya?” He shook his head. “Girls are meant to have water and cold, plain food—nothing too fancy. Nourishing, yeah, but nothing that spoils them. We don’t have pizza often. Mum would let them have leftover crusts at best, just to keep from wasting them.”

I was surprised they were so strict – I felt a bit sorry for the girls. “Actually, with my sister, I am not in charge of her diet, but if it were up to me, I’d make her do a little dance for her supper, maybe rub her tummy and pat her head while spinning in circles, and then eat from the garbage,” I said. It might actually be funny to watch my stuck-up older sister get knocked down a peg. I was technically not lying, though, because my sister ate whatever was served for dinner, and I wasn’t in charge of that.

The girls were dancing around, probably playing with the toothbrushes, when we walked into the living room. Betty and Veronica’s hands moved quickly away from their crotches. I didn’t catch them playing with themselves. At least my cousins were afraid of being caught.

“We are really going to have Dominos? I take back what I said about you, Mister Dalton! I’ll tell Mum you are the best babysitter ever!” Betty hugged me.

Veronica wasn’t far behind, pressing her bare chest against mine as she wrapped her arms around me. “Can we have sausage on our pizza? I love sausage!”

The double entendre was pretty obvious—she clearly meant cock.

It was going to be tough breaking it to my cousins that they weren’t getting any. I decided the best approach was the direct one, but I had an idea that I wanted to try. It would depend on how they reacted to being told “no” they aren’t getting what they want.

“Ooey-gooey cheese!” Betty giggled as they let go, twirling around the living room, their little pink brushes wiggling in their bums like tiny flamingo tails.

“You think you’re getting pizza?” My voice was flat, with no room for misunderstanding. This was going to be the hard part for me. I really didn’t care if the girls got pizza or not. I just didn’t want to come off like a softie. If they weren’t spoiled brats, I’d be getting them the sausage they wanted.

Betty’s grin faltered. “But ... you said—”

“I said WE were getting pizza,” I cut in sharply, nodding toward Archie and me. “You are girls. You might get some crusts if you behave at dinner.”

“But ... but...” Betty stammered, her disbelief clear as she pouted and even stomped her foot in frustration.

I gave her bare bottom a light pat and mimicked her stuttering with a smirk, “Butt ... Butt!”

Archie let out a laugh, clearly enjoying the show. The fact that neither girl did more than fume was evidence to me that Archie hadn’t been pulling my leg. They didn’t usually get pizza for dinner. I picked up the house phone and dialed the local Dominos. In the 1980s, delivery in 30 minutes or less was a novel concept, and it was all the rage.

I knew the number to the local delivery place by heart. “Hello, Dominos? One extra-large sausage pizza, oh yes, extra cheese, please!” I made my order and provided my aunt’s home address.

“We’re supposed to flirt with the pizza guy, show him these toothbrushes,” Veronica tapped the brush in her butt while glaring at me, “And we don’t even get to eat it after all that? I’m telling Mum you’re a right proper meanie, Mr. Dalton! You and Archie can’t finish a whole pizza by yourselves! And you got the one topping we both wanted?” She folded her arms, lips pursed in a pout.

I held up a finger, ticking off each point like I was explaining something obvious to a pair of slow learners. “First, you’re showing him the brush because you were eager enough to stick them up your bums in the first place. Second, if he thinks you’re being punished too severely, then you can take them out. And third—if you don’t want to butter him up and tease him like you did to me when I first got here, that’s no skin off my ass.”

Veronica’s smirk faltered, and she shifted with a soft huff, the brush wobbling between her ass cheeks. It was hard to take my eyes off of it. I wondered how it must feel to them.

“Second, you were both being punished for playing with yourselves, with your mom’s dildo, no less!” I pointed at Veronica before reminding Betty. “And you went out of your way to drag me into your mom’s room just to get your sister in deeper trouble.”

“Yeah ... we might’ve messed about a bit when you first got here,” she admitted, glancing down before meeting my eyes again. “Didn’t think you’d be this strict, Mister Dalton. But ... you’re being fair.” Her tone wasn’t snarky—just a grudging acknowledgment that they’d pushed their luck and were lucky to be avoiding a harsher punishment.

Betty wriggled beside her, her pout softening into a sheepish grin. “We were just having a laugh at first ... didn’t think we’d end up here,” she muttered, wincing as she shifted. “But we will behave now. Promise.” She shot me a hopeful look. “And if the pizza bloke feels bad for us ... maybe a little slice for being good?”

I didn’t expect that reaction from them. It was a good sign, but I wasn’t finished testing THEM yet. They had tested me when I first arrived and found that I was just like every other guy – well, it was my turn to evaluate my cousins.

“Third, you asked to use the bathroom during your punishment, which I graciously allowed, and what did you do? You made me and your brother wait outside like idiots, acting like you deserved privacy. At the same time, you shoved your mom’s and his toothbrushes into your dirty little holes to get yourselves off. And now you’ve got the audacity to ask for an entire slice of pizza—each?”

Betty squirmed beside her, her grin fading into something more tentative. “It’s just ... we didn’t think the punishment would go this far,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “We were out of line—proper out of line—but we’re trying to make it right.” She glanced at Veronica, then back at me, her eyes flickering with a mix of guilt and that ever-present mischief. “We’ll take whatever you decide. But ... if we can earn it, we’ll try our best.”

That was what I wanted to hear. I tried not to smile. I glowered like I was at my wit’s end with the two of them. “Fine, IF you want a slice of pizza, then you have to earn it by providing us with some entertainment! However, first, I want to establish some new rules when I am here – whether I am babysitting or visiting.”

The girls blinked in surprise. They didn’t expect me to lay out any rules.

“From now on, when I babysit, you’ll strip off immediately when I arrive, and if I stop by to visit, I want you to take off your clothes. Girls shouldn’t have modesty, and there is no sense in either of you wearing them around me or your brother.”

“Oh no! Naked every time you babysit?” Veronica asked with mock indignation, a grin already tugging at her lips. “You’ll get tired of seeing us starkers, Mister Dalton. We’ve got cute faces and a couple of holes, but it’s really nothing you need to make a rule about. We’d strip down if you ask nicely, anyway.”

“I am not asking; I am telling,” I reminded her of what her mother tells her all the time when she questions her. It just so happened that my own mom used that same line on me.

“Wait a second, are you saying anytime we get home from school, we have to strip because Archie is here as well, and we can’t even go in the backyard in panties any longer? We are always nude at home? Or just when you visit, Mr. Dalton?” Betty asked. I hadn’t said ANY of that.

I could see how what I said could have been misconstrued that way, but that wasn’t my intention at all. The girls liked being naked, and I decided to give them a reason. Their mom could always override me, so I decided to run with the suggestion – thinking Betty secretly wanted a reason to strip off, anyway.

I also just wanted to see them naked.

“You love being naked, and neither of you girls deserve or earned modesty, so unless your mum tells you otherwise, there is no point in soiling panties with your quim juice to cover those dirty bums and wet pussies!” I said. I looked at Archie, and he didn’t say anything back – but he didn’t complain either.

“What happens if we want to have friends over, or Archie—I mean, Mister Archie—has his friends over? We usually slap some clothes on. It’s not like we want to, but a lot of our friends would think we’re proper nymphomaniacs if we’re starkers 24/7,” Betty countered.

“Yes,” I said flatly. “You can have friends over, but the rules don’t change. You can warn them that you strip at home, but you’ll keep your cute little butts uncovered and on display. I want your quims and tits out, chins up, and smiles on your pretty faces! You don’t get to switch modesty on and off when it’s convenient.”

The girls seemed perplexed and puzzled but strangely flattered. “You think we are pretty?” Betty asked – surprisingly vulnerable.

They were cute girls, and their British accent made them even more attractive to me. They were underclassmen, but I would have definitely considered both of them out of my league even as a senior. I was surprised Betty didn’t see herself as pretty.

“Don’t be daft, he means you have a munter face, but he’d tell you what you want to hear, so you’d suck his balls and give him a little head. Girls like us are not meant to be glamorous or some lad’s grand obsession. We have cute bums and are just good for a laugh, a little slap and tickle, and a quick nosh,” Veronica clearly didn’t want her sister to let my words go to her head.

I got the impression from the expression on Betty’s face that she’d been taught to remain humble, because she immediately acknowledged what Veronica said. It occurred to me that I shouldn’t praise the girls, because every time I did, they seemed to lose respect for me.

I decided to do the opposite. Even though I thought they were cute – it hadn’t panned out well when I complimented them. They either didn’t believe I was sincere or took me as someone who just wanted to jump their bones.