"I saw my Mum and Dad doing it once," whispered Catherine, her face pink as she sneaked a glance at the two boys at the other side of the room. At just turned fourteen, Catherine hated her habit of blushing whenever sex was being discussed, and had no idea how attractive the heightening of the colour on her cheeks made her. With her soft brown eyes, and dark hair curling down to just under her chin, not to mention her blossoming figure, she already turned many heads at school – and out of it.

But they were not at school this afternoon. Catherine and her classmate, Fiona, a pretty little slim blonde girl, had 'bunked off' and were at Lynne's mother's flat nearby. Lynne was in the year above them at school and they had been quite flattered to be invited back to her house for a coffee, instead of two boring periods of Physics.

The two boys – Colin and Tim – were in Lynne's year, and they had just sort of tagged along, but Lynne hadn't seemed to mind.

The three girls lowered their voices and huddled closer, keeping their conversation from the boys, who were smoking and watching an afternoon 'soap' on television.

"What was it – like?" asked Fiona, her clear blue eyes wide with curiosity.

"What do you mean – like?" responded Catherine.

"Well, what did you see?" said Fiona.

"Well - just my Mum's - you know," and she fluttered her hands over her own budding breasts.

"You mean her 'tits'? You must have seen your Mum's tits before," scoffed Lynne, with all the worldly-wise sophistication of a fifteen-year-old.

Catherine blushed - it didn't seem quite right to talk about her Mum's "tits", but, at the memory of what she had seen that afternoon...

"Yes, I have," she replied, hesitantly, "but ... my Dad was touching them - you know!"

"What – you mean – squeezing them – giving them a feel?" insisted Lynne.

"Yes - and she ... she had no clothes on!"

"That still doesn't mean they were doing it!" said Lynne.

"I know!" retorted Catherine, her face now brick red. "But they were in bed and Mum was sitting on him - on top of him - and I'm sure he was - inside her."

"Fucking her, you mean?" Lynne licked her lips as she spoke.

Catherine nodded, her heart thumping at the vivid memory of what she had seen that afternoon.

"Up her pussy?" insisted Lynne. "With his cock?"

"Well, I think so - I couldn't see, properly, because the bedclothes were piled up behind Mum, but she was going up and down, and he was reaching up and squeezing her breasts."

"So you didn't actually see his cock?" The mention of her Dad's "cock" was even worse than her Mum's "tits", and Catherine just shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, as her mouth dried.

"What were they saying?" persisted Lynne.

"Nothing, really," said Catherine, but then, as she recalled that afternoon, she went on – "but Mum was – making noises..."

"What like – moaning and groaning and saying 'fuck me harder'... ?"

Catherine shook her head, wishing she had never started her story. Lynne had a bit of a 'reputation' in school. But Fiona was speaking and Catherine turned to her, with relief.

"How did you happen to see them?" asked Fiona, shyly.

"I was just going to my room, and they hadn't shut their door properly. It was a Saturday afternoon, and they didn't know I'd come home."

"Did they see you?" said Fiona.

Catherine shook her head. "No," she answered. "I crept back down the stairs and let myself out again and didn't come back for about two hours."

"What for?" asked Lynne, incredulously.

Catherine shrugged her shoulders.

"Didn't you want to keep watching - to see his cock going up her cunt?" persisted Lynne, clearly enjoying her use of crude language.

Catherine, her face still flaming red, shook her head again, uncomfortably.

She had replayed the scene a thousand times in her mind since then - and had elaborated it, too, by mentally removing the pile of bedclothes which had obscured her view, but had baulked, always, at conjuring up the image of her father's erect penis sliding in and out of her mother. She had tried to do it by pretending they were two other people, but, always, it was her Dad's hands she saw on her mother's naked breasts, her mother's nipples standing up straight, her mother's strangled cries as her body writhed sinuously on top of her dad.

"I'd have stayed," said Lynne. "I wouldn't have missed a chance like that!"

"But not – watching your own Mum and Dad," said Fiona, and Catherine shot her a grateful glance.

"What about your Mum with someone else?" questioned Lynne, an evil glint coming into her eye. "No, really, think about it," she added, forestalling the protests of her friends.

"Wouldn't it be exciting, coming home and catching your Mum with the window-cleaner or somebody? Just imagine it - they'd be in the kitchen and he'd have her backed up against the fridge. He'd have her blouse open and her tits out of her bra and he'd be feeling them up. Then he'd pull up her dress and get her knickers down, then take his big cock out and give her one up her wet hairy cunt!"

Too late, the three girls realised that the two boys had stopped talking and were listening, avidly, to their conversation.

Lynne was first to recover.

"Getting an earful, you two, are you?"

Colin, the younger one, blushed scarlet, but Tim said, quietly - "I've seen it loads of times."

"What - your parents - fucking?" asked, Lynne, excitedly.

"No," replied Tim. "My sister - and her boyfriend."

"How?" asked Lynne, her eyes bright.

"When my parents are out, they go up to Caroline's bedroom and I can see in from a tree in the garden."

"And - do you watch them?" asked Catherine, fearfully.

"Yeah," came the laconic reply.

"What do they do?" Lynne was leaning forward in her chair, her eyes glittering, her tongue moistening dry lips.

"Well, they come in and shut the door, then Paul starts kissing her and touching her, and she kisses him back, then he takes off her blouse and her bra and starts feeling her tits and kissing them. Then he unfastens her skirt and pulls it down and puts his hand down her panties and feels her bottom and then - at the front. Then he takes her panties off and he usually lays her down on the bed, then starts taking his clothes off. Then he gets on the bed with her and opens her legs and puts his dick in her."

"What else do they do?" asked Lynne, excitedly.

"Well, sometimes they change over and Caroline sits on his dick and he reaches up and squeezes her tits."

"Does she put it in her mouth?"

"I don't think so - I've never seen her do that," said Tim.

"Do you get a hard-on?" said Lynne, her tongue flickering over her now wet lips, and Tim nodded, grinning.

"But ... she's your sister," protested Catherine.

"So?" said Tim, scornfully.

"Well, I wouldn't like to think my brother would ... watch me like that!" Catherine responded, her face flushed.

"Why - who are you shagging?" Lynne laughed.

"Nobody!" Catherine's face was scarlet again.

"I bet he's seen you with no clothes on," said Tim, and Catherine felt uncomfortable as she realised this was probably true - but John was only twelve! Surely he wouldn't...

"I bet some of his mates have, too," Tim carried on. "I used to make quite a lot of money when I was twelve or thirteen, letting my mates climb our tree to see Caroline in her bedroom, getting changed to go out, or after a bath, or something."

"Mind you," he added, with a leer, "she had a good pair of tits by that time - and hair on her ... thing."

"On her 'thing'?" scoffed Lynne. "What's her 'thing'?"

It was Tim's turn to look embarrassed.

"Well - her fanny," he muttered.

"The word's 'vagina'," announced Lynne, scornfully. "I thought for a minute you knew what you were talking about. All you've ever done is watch your sister!"

"That's what you think!" said Tim, but now he, too, was blushing and confused, and Lynne pressed home her advantage.

"Anyway, are you saying Catherine's got no tits – or pussy hair?" she challenged, to Catherine's horror and intense embarrassment.

Defiantly, Tim cast Catherine a glance and shot back at Lynne - "She doesn't look as if she's got much!"

"Oh, yeah?" riposted Lynne, excitedly. "And how would you know? Have you paid her little brother for a look?"

"No!" mumbled Tim. "It wouldn't be worth it!"

"That's what you think!" responded Lynne.

"Be quiet - both of you!" exclaimed Catherine. "Just - mind your own business, can't you?" Her face was scarlet and her brown eyes filled with tears.

Tim looked away, a little shame-faced, but a sly smile came over Lynne's face before she assumed a solicitous expression and said - "But I've seen you in the showers after P.E., Cath - he hasn't! You've got quite big tits, and quite a lot of pussy hair..."

"Will you stop talking about my ... about me ... in front of them!" blurted Catherine. "How would you like it if I told him what you're like?"

"You wouldn't dare!" challenged Lynne.

"I will if you tell him any more about me!" said Catherine.

"Oh, will you?" said Lynne, grinning at her.

"Yes, I will!" Catherine replied, her anger now quite out of control. Fiona, meanwhile, sat frozen, scarcely daring to move - petrified of being dragged into this conflict. She was dimly aware that Lynne was manipulating Catherine into a corner, but couldn't quite figure out the older girl's motive.

"Go on, then!" said Lynne.

"What?"

"Go on, then! Tell him! I don't care!"

"But..."

"Ha! I knew you wouldn't! You're frightened!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Tell him, then," teased Lynne, her eyes bright and challenging. "Go on - tell him!"

Eyes bright with unshed tears, Catherine turned to the two boys, but then her nerve failed her and, as she dropped her eyes, two large tears rolled down her cheeks, and Lynne laughed in triumph.

"You're frightened!" she jeered. "I said so!"

Catherine jumped up and ran to the door, sobbing, but Lynne stepped across and barred her way.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"Home! I'm not staying here - with you!"

"You'll go when I say you can - and not before." There was a quiet menace in Lynne's voice and Catherine experienced a frisson of fear. The older girl was a good six inches taller than her, and had a reputation for turning vicious in a tight corner. Catherine looked over at Fiona, seeking support, but her friend would not meet her eye.

"You started all this sex stuff," Lynne went on. "All that about your old man shagging your mum. It's got us all going and I think you..."

Her voice trailing off, Lynne grinned maliciously at Tim and Colin, then back at Catherine.

"You said," she went on after a second or two, her voice low and deliberate, "you hadn't let a boy feel your tits, yet. Well, I think it's time you did. I think we should all have a look – I bet the boys would like a look at your tits."

Catherine looked at her in disbelief, and essayed a defiant laugh.

"Well, I'm not going to... " she started, but Lynne interrupted her.

"You started this - and you shouldn't start things you can't finish!" She turned, again, to the two boys. "What d'you think?" she said.

"I don't care what they think!" yelled Catherine, almost hysterically.

Ignoring her, Lynne continued to question the boys. "Come on!" she said. "Do you want to see her tits or not?"

The boys were both very uncomfortable, not looking at each other, or at Lynne. "Come on, Tim - you'd like a look, wouldn't you?"

"Wouldn't mind, I suppose," the boy muttered, reluctantly, "but..."

With a smile of triumph, Lynne turned towards Catherine and advanced on her.

"No!" whispered the frightened younger girl, stepping slowly backwards, away from her leering tormentor, and turning, again, to Fiona, whose face had gone quite white as she cowered in the armchair in the corner of the room.

"Fiona!" appealed Catherine. "Help me! Please!"

But the little blonde girl seemed frozen by fear, her saucer-shaped blue eyes fixed on Lynne's leering face as the older girl advanced on her friend. Lynne glanced down at her and hissed - "Just try it, and you'll be next!" and Fiona shrank deeper into the couch, as Lynne made a grab for Catherine.

"Get away from me," yelled Catherine, and stretched out her arms to fend Lynne off, but Lynne grabbed one of her wrists and twisted her arm savagely up her back. Catherine squealed in pain as Lynne held her twisted arm high between her shoulder blades, so that Catherine's feet were nearly lifted off the ground.

With her free hand, Lynne pulled and tore at the buttons on Catherine's blouse, easily fending off the younger girl's attempts to stop her. The boys sat, transfixed, mouths open, as the front of Catherine's blouse was pulled apart, revealing, first, her deep-set navel, then her white brassiere. Catherine was still struggling, but Lynne was far too strong for her, and the tears were now running, unchecked, down Catherine's face.

The final button undone, Lynne quickly ripped the blouse out of the waistband of Catherine's grey skirt, then pushed the girl forward so that her free hand could gain access to the clip at the back of her brassiere. She grunted and swore as her fingers struggled with the hook and eye, but then she let out a cry of triumph as it gave way.

Catherine emitted an anguished howl as she felt her bra loosen. At first, it stayed in place, but Lynne rapidly shifted her grip to a half nelson, imprisoning both Catherine's arms, and contrived to pull her blouse back off her shoulders, and raise her bra to her chin, as she did so.

And suddenly, the sobbing girl's naked breasts were revealed. They were round and firm, sitting high on her chest as her arms were pinioned behind her. Her nipples were round and pink, on soft brownish beds. The two boys stared open-mouthed and incredulous.

Catherine's struggles had ceased. Her head hanging, she could see her bared breasts through tear-stained lids, and she simply could not believe this was happening to her. She didn't dare look at the two boys and she dreaded the first cackle of laughter which would prove that, as she had always suspected, her breasts were not yet good enough to attract anything but ridicule.

She felt Lynne's grip on her arms relax, as though in a dream, and watched, dully, as her blouse dropped to the floor, followed by her brassiere.

Then, too late, she reacted as her wrists were bound behind her, painfully, and Lynne released her, at last, and stood in front of her.

Casually, the girl reached up and touched Catherine's nipples with the tips of her index fingers.

"Nips not hard yet?" she chuckled, then leant forward and whispered - "mine are!"

Then she turned round to the two boys. "Want a feel, Tim?" she asked. "They're not bad tits, for a kid."

Catherine's head jerked up, and her eyes pled with the older boy as he got up from his chair.

"Please! No!" she whispered, but he wouldn't meet her eyes, then his hands reached up and Catherine gasped as they closed round her breasts. For a second or two, he just held them, savouring the novel feel and shape of them, then he squeezed them lightly and touched her nipples with his thumbs. As he did so, Catherine felt them contract, then begin to swell and harden.

An excited, tingling sensation gradually came over her and her tongue flicked round suddenly dry lips as Tim's surprisingly gentle hands squeezed her breasts and, now, rolled her erect nipples between finger and thumb. Then he bent his head and Catherine gasped as his moist tongue touched the end of a nipple.

Her legs shook and, unconsciously, she pulled her wrists against the tie that bound them behind her back. With a guilty shock, she realised that the reason she wished to free her arms was so that she could pull the boy's head closer, to force him to put his lips round her breast and take her nipple into his warm mouth.

Over Tim's bent head, she could see the others, watching. Colin looked thoroughly scared, his body turned away, but his eyes staring, transfixed, and, Catherine realised, with a thrill of triumph, yearning. Lynne had lost her detached sneer and was taking it all in with her mouth slightly open, her tongue occasionally emerging to dart round her lips.

And Fiona was no longer crouching in her chair, but leaning forward, eyes wide in excitement, her face pink and her mouth also slightly open, a half-smile playing round the edges. Despite her burgeoning arousal, Catherine felt a rush of rage at Fiona. Not only had her so-called friend failed to stand by her, she was getting a kick out of watching her ... humiliation?

But, as every second passed, Catherine felt less and less humiliated. The first awful shock of having her bare breasts exposed had passed with Tim's evident approval. He was treating them with flattering attention - and she knew, from cloakroom gossip, that the hands caressing her now had found their way inside several brassieres in the senior school.

Tim's mouth, as she had desired, was now fastened on her left breast, pulling the nipple inside, and his free hand was stroking the twin cheeks of her bottom through her school skirt. A frisson of fear darted through her as she wondered if he would try to touch her between her legs, and she wriggled, uneasily, at the thought.

Then Lynne's voice broke the tense silence which had descended on the room. "Well, you've changed your tune, Cath! What happened to all that crying and 'don't touch my tits' stuff, then?"

Tim raised his head and looked over his shoulder at Lynne. His hand left Catherine's bottom and closed, once again, over her exposed breast - almost protectively, Catherine realised, with a warm rush.

"Oh, leave her alone," he said. "She's all right!"

His arms closed round Catherine in an affectionate hug and, again, she wanted to release her arms, to return it. Then she felt Tim's hands at her wrist and, suddenly, they were free. Hesitantly, she raised her arms to return his embrace.

But, when he broke it off, after a second or two, and stood back, Catherine automatically raised her arms to cover her chest and he laughed.

"Hey!" he said. "Don't go hiding them now - it's Colin's turn."