An old abuse case in Brussels came to mind recently when I was reading an article. Here’s what it spawned.
A group of girls sat round a table in Zwembad swimming pool cafe in Ostend, Belgium, idly stirring straws in drinks, chewing nails and wishing they could have their tablets and devices back. Two views were open to them but they were too self centred to notice, unlike a lot of folk. To one side was a wall of glass, the other side another wall of glass. Windows floor to ceiling. Mothers and children frolicked or took swimming lessons in the public leisure facility and beyond the main pool with, at the time, lanes marked with coloured beaded ropes, deep to shallow end of the twenty five metres for serious swimming practice and exercise.
The opposite glass gave views across the playing fields. There was a team of footballers practising penalty shoot outs and beyond a class of mature women testing their netball skills.
“It happened again,” stated Marla Zamburg nonchalantly, a not pretty, heavy jawed, auburn frizzy haired, stoutly bodied, very much the most introverted girl in the group. She wriggled happily on the edge of her knapsack carefully placed on the hard plastic chair under her, enjoying a similar sensation she was replicating from an hour before.
“Noooo!” exclaimed Zandra Wlimshok, visibly shocked and outraged. “Honestly Marla you’ve got to do something ... tell someone...”
“Yes but who?” interjected Flore Hemestedt. “All the teachers are out by then, probably enjoying a sex party in their cubicles,” she added getting a giggle from the others.
“The life guards, you know, they’re patrolling all the time,” advised Wim Vetterlouk, a rather bossy tall elegant blonde, the self appointed leader of the informal gang.
“Yeah! but you know, it’s happening when the swim classes are finished isn’t it Marla?” getting a shy nod. “ ... and everyone is crowded in together, public and all the mums and kids. Be glad when the new pool is finished.” added Flore.
Nearby two mature men spooned the foam and liberally sprinkled chocolate off their large Cappuccinos.
“Did you?” snickered Louis Henersoen, eyeing the noisy group of schoolgirls.
“Fuck yes, nice one too, I know she likes it,” sniggered Franz Holditchiki replied sucking his right middle finger. “The chlorine taints it a bit but I can live with that.”
“I like that buddy, taints the taint, good one heh heh!” Louis snickered.
“Taint. A term for that joyful bit between their arsehole and cunt ... didn’t you know?” tittered Louis.
“No but I’m not a biology teacher at university am I - clever twat?” sneered the 60 year old part time office cleaner and close friend and fellow pervert of Professor Hans R. Feelie the principal of the prestige Feelie Academy for Girls in Stuiverstraat.
“Yeah OK point taken, just wish I had the chance,” Louis remarked wistfully.
“Sorry “ smiled Franz. “I’ll keep feeding you the videos from the dorms. Hans doesn’t know about those. He installed the ones on the changing rooms and the toilets, they’re all old tech, mine are the latest spy cameras...”
“Fuck yeah, the quality is superb,” Louis chuckled eagerly.
Vim swivelled in her seat and accidentally flashed Louis and Franz, not noticing their stares and raised eyebrows. The Academy sports uniform consisted of black polo shirts over mid grey netball skirts, over black regular knickers, bare legs and Nike trainers all provided by the college and part funded by parents. It was up the pupils whether they wore brassieres.
“The legs on that are something else,” said Louis, then excitedly. “Look ... look...”
Wim reached up her skirt and innocently scratched her crotch.
“She’s got one hell of a cunt. Meaty and open and thankfully not too hairy, can see everything when she’s changing. Lovely tits. Not all of them are borders are they?”
“No but she is - the fidgety one,” Franz smirked, watching Marla wriggling. “Her dad was an old friend of Hans and of course he and the missus ... can’t remember the hag’s name are in clink now.”
“Oh yeah huge case, made the international news. They kept her and her siblings locked up in a basement. Never let them out, basic home schooling, themselves, no teachers. Neighbours thought and been told the children lived with relatives because of health or something. Then the youngest lad escaped and all hell broke loose? They were in a hell of a mess, undernourished, dirty, abused boys and girls...” Louis reminisced, getting a nod of agreement and distraction when Zandra stood.
As short as she was wide, the rotund girl waddled to the service counter, her skirt caught up her crack and her huge tits bouncing free. Not one for bothering with all the rigmarole of dressing after the swimming, just to be transported back to the academy and don her casual day wear, a bra was ignored. It was to the extreme, pleasure of most of the men in the leisure centre to see voyeur her bulbous knockers shake, wobble and roll. There was a hush in the area, even fussy mothers with tiresome infants sensed the occasion, some just staring, some shaking their heads in distaste, others envious.
Franz and Louis relaxed and ogled, in keeping with the three male parents elsewhere (kids partially forgotten), two disabled youths in wheel chairs, two admin men in suits and ties working on laptops, and the coal black, wiry, toothy youth who had served Zandra with four doughnuts and five colas on a tray.
Flore accepted her drink and cake with a shake of her pretty head, pursing her lips as a mammoth pair of wobbly tits overhung her space for a minute. The other girls hadn’t noticed a thing.
“She’s got really flat nipples,” sniggered Franz. “Very pale and no buds, but a sight to behold when she’s changing. The one I love best of all is the black one.”
“Yes Flore. Dutch East Indian, lovely mix. Fucking hairy too. The others shave or keep it neat, but not her, maybe her religion ... whatever?” mused Louis.
“Anyway Marla, miss fidget,” Franz continued, “After the scandal and publicity, Hans and his wife stepped in, ostensibly to take her under their wing, educate and look after her, but primarily to indoctrinate her for his ‘club’, spotting something in her. Don’t know what but he’s done a superb job. She earns him a mint on the side you know, after the Academy fees from the others and all that. She’s as thick as two short planks,” Franz chuckled. “Loves this of course,” he lewdly stuck a cluster of fingers up “ ... and shag? Wow! Fucking amazing.”
“So you keep fucking telling me, but I know, you’re in the clique ... and I can’t afford it anyway. Never get any videos of that ... I mean fucking her.”
Franz shook his head, with a frown as if ‘don’t go there’.
“Wonder what would happen if I felt her up in there, the pool. Like you do ... did?” Louis thought out loud.
“Don’t know, your risk. She likes it and occasionally glances round, maybe for arseurance its me ... er ... or any...”
“Or anyone else you were going to say Franz?”
His buddy nodded. “I mean I don’t know how many of us, the clique as you so charmingly put it, get in here like other sessions. Hans has a timetable and limits us, so she doesn’t get confused, which can happen,” he chuckled. “But who is to say others get in here and...”
“Stick their fingers up her cunt?” Louis grinned.”Or her arse.”
“Hhmmm! Yes. Suppose you could try grabbing her tits.”
“Those are the tits I’d like to grab,” sniggered Louis as Zandra dutifully tidied and stacked empties on the tray. “You fuck her I guess?”
“Not fucking Zandra you silly cunt! She’s not in. Would like to I mean ... think of the bounce, but yes I fuck Marla, we all do, Hans controls all that. When you think she’s been used to it ... well for years ... yeah years. Those parents must have been animals to do what they subjected that family to ... uuurrghh! Marla loves it, has her likes and dislikes ... funnily not oral - her or us for some reason, but we’re working on that. Anal usually - only when her periods on but takes it up the arse at any time really. There’s an idea buddy, if you’re going to touch her up, try in her bum, I don’t do it in here and if you’re in here when I am, she’ll know it wasn’t me and I could stand near and give a clue.”
“Hang on Franz, must be a right fiddle getting her swim costumes out of the way and then finding her hole ... any hole Must look suspicious.?”
“All worked out Lou. Hans’s wife has altered her swim suit. You know the girl likes those old fashioned bathers with a frill round the hips?” Louis remembered and indicated. “Mevrouw Feelie has cut the gusset away just where Marla’s little snatch is. You’ve got to be really searching and looking direct in there to see the slit ... heh heh slit for a slit.” Franz guffawed. “I mean she loves action on her clit so much ... I mean just look at her now, wriggling all the time.”
“She got a big clit?” asked Louis verifying his pals glance and at the same time watching Zandra dusting away stray sugar granules off her bounteous boobs.
“Hell yeah! When you think it’s been stimulated since her ... er ... what earliest year? ... I’ve looked and fiddled it ... it’s about like that,” Franz indicated with his thumb end. “Would love to lick it but like I said, that’s a no no with her. She doesn’t know what she’s missing ... Don’t they ever get tired of yapping?” he grinned watching the lively bunch.
“Marla, when it happens ... you know ... like when somebody touches you in the pool. What happens like?” queried Zandra.
“Doesn’t matter,” suggested an irritated, preening Wim.
“Yes it does,” argued Flore. “A man touched me once, just sort of ... like here,” she indicated her waist.”
“Yeah well that’s not much,” retorted Wim.” I’ve had hands on my tits, on my legs and...” her voice tailed off. The black youth serving was rather tasty in her view. She swivelled again, not spotting two men nearby leering. She spotted the black youth grinning.
“And what Wim?” Flore pointedly asked. She got a gesture, not sure what it meant, but Wim’s interest was elsewhere.
“Yeah! Go on Marla, tell us,” prompted Zandra.
The quiet, scholarly, dumpy girl blushed and wriggled which annoyed Wim even further. She got her confidence from a wealthy upbringing, inner strength and stunning good looks where Marla relied on how her clitoris was feeling, just like Professor Feelie and before that her father had taught her. She decided to reveal a little.
“They just touch me ... like with their hands ... you know?”
“Of course they do you silly minger,” scoffed Flore. “Where? on your bottom, your belly your tits?
Is it just a touch like happens in a swimming pool and you can’t help bumping into someone can you?”
Marla scowled, thinking they don’t understand I like it but they’re pressing me hard. What is it the Professor says – what happens with your body, stays with your body ... and it’s sososoooo nice.
“I mean talk about bumping into people, people are always bumping into me and me them ... with these,” Zandra shrieked, cupping her unfettered knockers, alerting two men close by, a young father pushing a baby buggy past the girls table and the black youth handing loose change for camomile tea to a matronly lady who had just returned from her toning class.
Wim huffed and puffed, stirred in her chair, opening her ling lissome limbs propped up on a spare chair, grabbing it just before the matronly lady claimed it. If looks could kill.
Marla got a shoulder thump to continue and sensed her clit was on form and spoke.
“They feel my cunny,” she sniggered, developing the mirth into uncontrollable fits of giggles, hand over mouth, head lowering towards her lap, making her flouncy frilly skirt ride up her back.
“Fuck me look at that,” Louis nudged Franz, who was also locked onto the arcs of the girl’s buttocks, lower half lush bare skin, the other half clad in tight black cotton. “Oh let me sniff that gusset darling,” he murmured.”
Wim stormed off in a huff to the toilets, catching the black’s eye. She forced a piss, not long after the previous one and came out into the corridor, finding him lounging against a storeroom door. He bustled her inside and jammed some large cartons behind the door. He clutched the tall blonde closely, she didn’t resist and they kissed with lust not passion as one of his hands groped between her legs, middle finger probing her young twat. She slapped his bony hand away and again, levering the cartons to one side with a hefty piece of foot work.
“Fuck off matey, not on our first date...”
“Date, what the fuck... ?” he grunted as a carton full of bags of coffee landed in his toe.
She shot out and screamed...”RAPE” at the top of her voice. Seconds later the black chap was smothered on the floor then bustled away.
A week later at the leisure centre as their weekly exercise plan, the Academy girls were finished in the sports hall and told to loosen up in the swimming pool. Gleefully they stripped off their sports gear, added swimsuits and frolicked in the crowded pool. The noise was deafening because of half term in the primary schools. There were many young families and he half wished he had got it wrong, but there was always a few tasty morsels of all ages to leer at. Louis had received a message from Franz that his wife was feeling ill and he wouldn’t be around, so he went to the leisure centre as usual. Having done his fifty lengths of mixed strokes, he filtered virtually unnoticed into the family pool and mixed in. He was permitted, just an odd sight. A father approached him, recognising him as a regular and explained he needed to take his son to the toilet, could Louis look after the toddler as she learned to swim. Holding the nymphette belly down in the flats of his hands while she helplessly splashed, didn’t register the gem of a pervert opportunity. He was fixated on Zandra’s tits in ... well overflowing her skimpy, too small bright yellow suit one piece swimsuit. His right hand middle finger somehow found its way into the crotch of the tots bathing suit, just as her dad returned, thanking Louis profusely, taking the child away to join a group playing with a large inflatable toy,
He made his way to the Academy girls, not far behind Zandra but nearer Flore who was practising underwater hand stands. Her pure white one piece suit with all the energy inside had shifted on her frame and Louis was constantly rewarded for going alone without Franz, with the perfect vee of her crotch, her pubic hairs escaping from the gusset which in the contrast of dense black pubic area in the cheap thin white material, exposed the delicious wide shape of her hirsute growth. Her distinct juvenile camel toe was a massive bonus and he sensed his erection bubbling.
Thinking he must calm and cool down, before he did something he’d regret, he looked behind and saw a reasonably clear pool area, so he turned took a deep breath and dived under water, foolishly aiming to swim a few stokes. Four strokes and he turned still at a metre deep. Zandra’s legs and butt loomed into his Speedo goggled vision, at the same time a small boy jumped off the wide and landed on top of him. He struggled, breath gasping, his goggles out of place, the chlorine biting his unprotected old eyes, his mouth suddenly full of urinated swimming pool water. The errant boy was rescued and chastised as Louis scrabbled for a hold, his legs flailing for a foothold. The hold, not necessarily a foot hold arrived in the sturdiness of Zandra’s magnificent bum. One of his hands was grasping her inner thigh, the other above her pudenda ... purely accidental and desperate. She screamed as Louis surfaced, blinded, spluttering, gasping, disorientated.
He was ushered quickly away to the security office and detained for some time.
Zandra was accompanied into Professor Feelie’s inner sanctum on arrival back at the Academy, to make a statement. The education school of excellence was housed in a grand four storey part bomb damaged building that in it’s hey day was the home of a wealthy tobacco importer and merchant. There were two large front rooms on each floor, one main grand staircase and a rear one for servants, now the main thoroughfare for the girls. A group of attic rooms had been converted to dormitories. Hans room occupied one of the original front rooms, most of the others split by solid partitions into smaller bedrooms. His wife’s domain was the medium sized room behind Hans with aspect to a tree lined park. A lot of the original decoration and fittings that had survived war damage and where external and internal fabric to the structure had been renovated it had been done to a high degree, the building was an official landmark.
“Er I want to see if he did any damage ... er ... er to your private parts Zandra,” Hans told her, secretly switching on a video camera on his desk opposite where he would get her to stand. He sensed some reluctancy in her attitude and expression and asked if she would like another female person present.
On her reaction he called for Marla. His wife Matilda was available and generally acted as Matron, but he had a plan. His favourite girl entered his office and locked the door as always, not needing a prompt and started to pull her panties down, Zandra not seeing her actions after turning to greet her best friend. Hans gave Miss Zamburg a firm shake of his head and pursed his lips, stopping Marla.
“Like I said Professor, he didn’t touch me ... you know there. It’s OK, I’ll show you,” offered Zandra, pulling down her track suit bottoms she had changed in to on arrival back at the Academy. Hans being an old hand at these manipulations, watched the dark purple garment struggle it’s way over her big fat bum, partly tugging down the cute white panties with a red lacy trim off too. She righted those and shook off the tracky bottoms and lewdly splayed her legs.
Marla joined Hans peering at Zandra’s wide thighs. Even in her legs apart, knees splayed and crotch thrusting forward stance, her upper thighs still remained together. Hans ventured a gnarled arthritic hand forward and glanced questioning up at the girl. She got the message and nodded. He handled both legs, pressing the flesh in, finding no bruises, cuts, abrasions, blood, swellings and any other thing he could spend time looking. The focus of his vision was the convex swelling flesh of her pudenda and the faint but definitely there juvenile camel toe. There was no hair escaping the closet cotton shielding her mott. Hans leaned back, as if seeing it with a better view, spreading both thighs as wide as the solidity of her stance allowed, but making sure the camera was capturing every nuance of her groin.
Marla thought how gently he was examining her dear friend, recalling the many many times he had done this to her accompanied by other acts. What a gentle understanding man!
“It would be wrong of me to ignore the event and trust your judgment my dear but I do think ... in fact insist that you take your underwear off and I can complete a full investigation. I mean I must fill out this report you understand,” he smiled leaning back in his mahogany coloured plush leather Chesterfield chair, prodding a pile of documents. Zandra didn’t know they were pupil performance statistics for the authorities.
“I don’t really want to sir,” whispered Zandra.
“Look I can get Mevrouw Feelie in if you want... ?”
“No Marla’s here ... but ... er ... oooh er!”
Her best friend gently tugged at the elastic waistband of her panties. Zandra thought if Marla was doing that, it must be OK so took over and wriggled her ample butt and legs out of the pretty knickers. She was instructed to sit on her chair and lean back lifting her knees wide. Marla was as interested as Hans but stood back a little. She had seen other pussies before but they were siblings, not as old as Zandra and certainly under duress, where the circumstances now were comfortable, pleasant, relaxed and in pristine condition.
Hans checked and got the go ahead to ease the fat girl’s labia apart. Within the tight pink aperture her hymen was clearly visible, unusual he mused for her age and activity. There were no bruises and tears. He asked her to slide forward a little, her legs higher and wider and fingered her anal crevasse. Zandra flinched at his touch and glanced fearfully at Marla.
“It’s OK he has to do it to check. All those documents and you’ll have to sign one at the end... ?” Marla murmured, glancing at Hans getting affirmation, not that it meant much. He was going to finger the girl as much as he wanted and toyed with the idea of grooming her for his secret society of perverts.
“What do you think Marla? She looks fine don’t you think?” he said, indicating Zandra could stand and adjust her clothes. Marla nodded enthusiastically with a big grin. Turning his back he savoured the musky smell of Zandra’s genitals on his fingers, before pretending to wash them, before turning to face the girls. He dismissed them and switched off the video camera.
In the corridor Marla spoke. “He’s so gentle isn’t he? it didn’t hurt and you’re OK. I’ve started bleeding now ... you know every month, but I checked with him and Mevrouw Feelie. I’m happy. Anything you need to know, let me know or go to them direct, they’re ever so sweet.”
They passed Hans’s wife who beamed at them before entering his office.
“Well my dear that was highly entertaining for the club I’m sure,” she giggled, pecking him lightly in the cheek. “She’s outstanding in her build, such bosoms ... I’ve yet to see them privately but her mind set and attitude are perfect and with Marla’s help ... what do you think?” she chuckled.
“I knew what you’d say darling, you were watching?” he chuckled, checking the camera battery, pleased the WiFi system he and Franz had installed proved successful ... again.
“Oh yes, your parents were so ahead of your time when they named you Hans,” she giggled. “She never felt a thing. Now how about working some of your magic hands on your wife?” she tittered, lifting her white surgical smock to reveal her tan stockings and white suspenders and beneath, her light grey silk French knickers. Matilda Feelie was very sprightly for a 71 year old, bending over his mammoth desk as he reamed her hairless bum hole while she savoured the replay video of the virgin girl’s private parts.
Eighty five minutes later, the ambulance man and his female colleague carted Hans R.Feelie away on a shrouded gurney, doing their level best but failing in their haste, to shield the unusual sight of his erection sticking vertically up, under the sheet. Several girls were around and about, some waiting for their evening meal being borders, others gathered in the foyer to be collected by parents and the like. Only one of them knew the significance of the tent like projection mid way along the gurney under the sheet, but Marla didn’t say a word.
Matilda sobbed, being supported and pacified by her son and daughter in law as she returned to their living quarters in the Academy.
Negotiating rush hour traffic at the roundabout junction with Zilverlaan, “He wasn’t doing badly at 78 was he?” sniggered Lars Schusen, the ambulance driver,
“Fuck no,” mumbled Lar’s co-driver and paramedic Sonia Hardingen, her mouth rather full and trying to compare. “She, his wife was upfront about it, telling us he died at full speed on the vinegar strokes,” she tittered. “Some fucking erection, I liked the tattoo on it, what was it? Oh yeah heh heh GoodHandsHans ... nice one. Don’t see many rigor cases like that one - phew!”
“Tell you what, if we’d got here quicker we wouldn’t have seen it. I don’t blame him still shagging the old bird ... all that young pussy floating about ... I mean...”
She giggled, taking her mouth away, looking up at him. “They’d be more your line then?”
“Fuck no, I like a bit of experience ... hang on...” Lars told her, hauling the steering wheel to avoid a truck, his sleeve brushing across her cheek...
“I am fucking hanging on mate. This cock isn’t going anywhere until I gobbled it all. Are we nearly there yet?”
“How you feeling now Mum? Asked Ricard Feelie, rubbing his mother’s back as a comforting gesture, noticing as usual no bra straps, in the quiet lounge of the sumptuous apartment over looking Sint-Franciscusstraat.
The funeral guests had long since departed and it was Ricard and Matilda alone at last, Jenna his wife driving elderly relatives to the station and then going to collect their daughter from school.
“Still bitter,” Matilda sobbed, dabbing her rheumy eyes. “It was that girl ... to much excitement for him in one day.”
“Hmm! seems that way,” agreed Ricard.
“I’ll make her pay”, snarled Matilda.