Guess That Hit/Part 2
Guess That Hit, part 2: Let's play!
“Okay then,” I said. I took a deep breath. “Who's first?”
I was sitting in the living room of Melody and Dave, my sister and brother-in-law. Blindfolded, and surrounded by six girls. Six young girls. My 8 and 12 year old nieces, and four of their friends, aged between 11 and 13.
And they had just challenged my to play their newly-invented game, “Guess That Tit”. They had invited me to identify each of them my feeling their breasts. By exploring, touching, feeling, and fondling their young, underage breast.
“Not sexual,” they had said, “just a fun game”.
Yeah, right. I felt my dick stirring. Not sexual, my ass!
“That's your call, Dave,” Savannah reminded me. “We all have a number, from 1 to 6. Just call the number of the girl you want first.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. You said that. Okay, let's start with … three!”
I heard the sounds of the girls swapping places, then felt two small hands take hold of my wrists and guide my hands toward a chest.
I held my hands still, savoring the sensation of warm, smooth skin against the palms of my hands, the impression made by two tiny protrusions that must be the nipples. I tried to gauge the size. Perhaps an inch or so?
Definitely not Rhonda, she was bigger. And not Grace either, she was just 8 and still completely flat.
I also ruled out the twins, Ally's shirt was tight enough that I had seen the shape of her tits. What I held in my hands now was definitely smaller than what I had seen earlier on Ally. I assumed Hannah, her identical twin, to be of similar build.
That left two. My niece, Cindy, or 11-year old Savannah.
Now I could have taken a 50/50. Perhaps I should have.
But when it comes to games, I have always been an achiever. Dare me to a competition, and I'll try to beat you. Before and after the game we may be best friends, but during the game I'll consider you my arch enemy, and try my hardest to be yours.
I never take a 50/50. I'll do everything, within the rules, to improve my odds.
I recalled the mental pictures I had made of the girls' chests before I was blindfolded.
“I'm sorry, I need to move my hands to get a better idea,” I apologized, “I hope you don't mind?”
“Oh! Em! Gee! Can you please stop apologizing? We went over that. Yes, you need to feel. That's the whole idea of the game” Either Hannah or Ally, I still hadn't found a way to keep them apart from voice alone.
And she was right. We had discussed this, I was supposed to feel, to explore. So I did.
I started to move my hands, softly tracing the outline of the mounds, following the swelling. I gently pressed my index fingers in the mounds to assess the firmness. I caressed the outline of these tiny titties, my fingers touching the velvet skin as subtly as possible, circling around until I reached the center. The skin on the areolas felt just a bit less smooth. Her areolas were larger than I expected, and her nipples were also quite big.
I recalled how the two girls had looked with their clothes on. Their shirts had not been tight enough to see the exact outline; in both cases I had only seen how the fabric of the shirt pushed out a bit when the girl stood upright. And though Savannah was the younger of the two, her shirt was pushed out slightly more than Cindy's.
I cupped both tits to assess the exact size. They seemed to be a better match for Savannah than for Cindy, but I was not fully sure. And then I noticed a subtle change. The nipples felt just a tiny bit bigger, more erect than before.
Are my touches arousing this girl? Not sexual, my ass! These nipples are definitely erect. Holy shit, this girls is aroused … by me!
I tried to focus on the task, to get the best possible read on the size. Then I noticed …
“Wait, I think these two are not the exact same size. Let me check.”
I crossed my arms, now cupping her lift tit with my right hand, and her right tit with my left.
“Yup, it checks. Not a big difference, but your right boob is ever so slightly bigger than your left boob.”
I returned my hands to their normal positions.
“Don't worry about it,” I hastened to add as I felt how her chest tensed a bit, “probably a normal thing as they are developing.”
Her chest relaxed again.
I was by now almost sure that the size was a better match for Savannah than for Cindy. But whoever I was touching, she was somewhat aroused now. What exactly is the effect of arousal on underage breasts? Is it just erect nipples, or can it also the gland itself to swell?
Would it even be possible that Cindy, my little niece Cindy, would get aroused over my touches? But wouldn't it be equally unlikely for a girl as young as Savannah? Or is it just biology, an automatic reaction of the body to breasts being fondled?
I concentrated, felt again, tried to get a better gauge of the size. They had to be an inch and a half, maybe ever so slightly more. I recalled once more the swelling under the shirts of Cindy and Savannah. I had estimated Cindy to have half an inch. Even if arousal causes the glands to swell, I couldn't believe that the size would more than double. This had to be Savannah.
I wanted to keep touching those soft, smooth, warm, and perky child-breasts for the rest of my life. I wanted to never let go. I wanted to …
But the rules of the game were clear. I was already treading dangerously, just by playing alone. Any misstep could get me in trouble. And, perhaps even worse, potentially cause severe mental trauma in the girls.
I hid my disappointment as I retracted my hands, and only then noticed the thick silence that had fallen over the room as I was exploring those glorious boobies, for ... minutes? hours? Probably actually less than a minute but it felt like a lifetime!
I broke the silence: “I think this is Savannah. Am I right?”
There was no answer, and I could almost feel the girls exchanging glances and probably hand signs around me.
And then I heard Rhonda's voice: “We're not telling you yet, Dave. You must guess all six. If we now say if you are right or wrong, the last few girls would be much easier.”
I had to admit, she had a point.
“Okay, fair enough,” I admitted, “but I guess that works both ways then. I can change my first guess if I later think this is not Savannah, right?”
The girls agreed.
“Okay, next one. I guess I'll just pick the next number: four, please!”
As I heard the girls once more shift position, I realized how my cock was starting to grow. No erection (yet), but it was definitely a bit bigger than normal. I tried to ignore it, tried to remind myself that this was not supposed to be sexual. Those thoughts were interrupted by two soft hands, grabbing my wrists to guide them to the next set of tits.
As soon as my hands touched skin, I knew that this had to be Rhonda. Both my hands were completely full, and only Rhonda had developed enough for that. But I wanted to be really sure.
Yeah, right. Of course that is my reason, and nothing else. Just keep telling yourself that.
And I didn't want to make any girl feel left out.
Just admit it, you just love this way too much.
My inner voice was right. I had been stunned by Savannah's chest the second she walked in and I simply couldn't resist the opportunity to feel her up. None of the excuses I made changed the fact that I primarily did this for one single purpose: to savor every second of this, to imprint all the sensations in my brain, in an area where I could unlock them at will in the future, whenever I was alone in the shower and in need of a lewd fantasy to jack off to.
I gave in to my desires.
Pretending a need for more information, I gave Rhonda's tits the same treatment I had given Savannah. Girl three, I corrected myself, I was only 95% sure on her, I had to keep an open mind.
I traced Rhonda's mounds with my fingers, probed the resistance of her soft, warm flesh, felt the exact shape and size of her tits, her small but firm nipples and her perfectly round areolas.
And I realized that I had been wrong before. When earlier I inspected the girls, I had assumed Rhonda's bra was needed for support, that the weight of her boobs would cause them to hang (not much, just a little) when not supported. I was wrong. She perhaps wore the bra for comfort, to help carry the weight. Or to reduce the discomfort of her boobs dancing as her body moved.
Oh gosh, the thought of her boobs, gently dancing as her supple body moved...
I had to force myself to focus on the game.
Or maybe, I figured, maybe she wore a bra only because society expected her. And then, as I noticed how her nipples now also started to erect under my hand movements, I had one more theory: maybe the bra was to prevent people seeing her pokies if she wore a thin shirt.
But not for support. Her tits, in spite of their size, needed no support. They stood upright, proud and firm, all on their own.
As I continued to touched, massage, and gently squeeze Rhonda's tits, I felt her nipples hardening more and more.
I then realized one more thing. I was holding the most perfect pair of tits that I had ever seen in my life.
Well, I had not actually seen these, so … Oh come on, you know what I mean!
While big for a 13 year old girl, I am sure that any 16 year old would have killed for this pair. No, wait, any 16 year AND OLDER. They were perfectly pear shaped.
As I gently lifted them to assess their weight, I once more marveled at how these tits appeared to defy gravity, maintaining that same perfect pear shape even when not supported. I stopped applying upward force, keeping my fingers barely touching her skin as I felt them fall back, bouncing ever so gently until they were in their normal position.
I once more cupped her tits completely, gently massaging the entire globes. Her skin felt smooth like velvet, warm like a warm bath, and as I applied some pressure I felt the soft firmness like the ideal pillow that I had never found.
All of me wanted to lean in. To kiss those gorgeous globes. To suck in a nipple, twirl my tongue on the areola, while massaging the other tit with my hands. To rest my head on those soft cushions, to ...
I forced myself to maintain control. I detached my hands from her flesh.
“Okay, I'm pretty sure that you are Rhonda.”
I cursed myself as I heard my voice slightly breaking in that sentence. It was subtle, hard to hear for the untrained ear, but is was there. My attempts to keep a straight voice and not show my excitement had failed. The room remained silent. Perhaps none of the girls had noticed?
Or they just didn't care, perhaps even enjoyed it?
By now, my cock was definitely starting to get erect. The way I was sitting, it was constrained by my undies and pants. I felt the start of discomfort because it didn't have the room it needed.
I tried to distract myself. Tried to think of meat loaf, mountain bikes, Bach music … but I also had a game to play. And I wanted to win. So I had to focus on tits too.
“Okay, let's go with number one next.”
More scurrying. Another set of sweet, soft, warm hands on my wrists. And another pair of girl boobs in my palms. I repeated the same now proven routine of following the outline of the protrusion, probing the resistance of the gland, brushing the surface to gauge form and size of the areolas.
One thing was sure, if I would ever have to identify any of the girls by just feeling the skin, I wouldn't stand a chance. All three I had felt so far were unbelievably soft and smooth, like velvet but better. All felt warm and nice to the touch.
But the shapes were all very different. I was now feeling a pair of tits that, while obviously smaller than Rhonda's, were bigger than Savan… I corrected myself again: bigger than number three's.
So it has to be one of the twins, right? But I was unsure. Really unsure this time.
I estimated the size of the tits in my hand to be maybe two and a half inches. Not the three inches I had estimated for Ally, earlier, as I was looking at the girls and she pushed out her chest to show off her assets. Half an inch is not that big a difference, sure, but as I said before: when I am challenged to a game, I want to win.
I explored more. I again traced the mounds to form a perfect mental picture of the form. I squeezed the flesh to gauge the firmness, caressed the skin to feel its softness, to locate the outline of the areolas, to find the location and size of the nipples. I cupped the whole breasts, squeezed and massaged, as my mental picture was forming.
These tits were smaller than Rhonda, but also rounder. The areolas were not perfect circles, but ovals. The nipples on this girl had already been erect when I first touched them, and remained like that.
Was this girl already aroused before I even started to touch her? Or were her nipples naturally firmer, and was she unaffected by me?
I mentally scolded myself as I noticed that I actually felt a hint of disappointment when I considered that this girl might not be aroused by my touches.
It's supposed to be a game, not sexual at all. Maybe for her this is just actually true?
My mind was racing. Were the twins actually a bit smaller than I expected? Or was this actually Savannah, bigger than I had estimated? Possible, right? Her shirt was really rather loose. And I still had not ruled out completely that number three might be Cindy.
And if this was in fact one of the twins, how could I have been wrong about the size? Could it be because of how Ally had pushed her chest out? Could she have had a slightly stuffed bra? No, wait, not possible, I would have seen the outline of a bra in that ridiculously tight shirt. She wore no bra. But the stance she had taken … perhaps it did exaggerate her size?
As my conscious mind was trying hard to figure out who I was actually touching, Savannah or twin, I continued to move my hands, fondle the small boobs, caress the skin, massage the glands, … Not that I needed it, I already had a full mental picture of these tits. But my conscious mind was busy and my subconscious had taken control … and enjoying every second of it.
Until Rhonda's voice snapped me out of it: “It's hard, Dave, isn't it?”
I quickly withdrew my hands, feeling caught, and feeling guilty. Slightly guilty.
I started to explain my train of thoughts. How I was unsure if this was Savannah or one of the twins, and why I was in doubt.
But Rhonda quickly interrupted me: “That's not what I meant, Dave. I was asking if it's hard. If THIS is hard!”
And with that, I felt a hand in my crotch, then heard all girls erupted in laughter, I felt her hand apply pressure for a few seconds, then a gentle and playful squeeze where my dick was. And then her hand was gone.
There was no point in denying so I made the best of the opportunity.
“Yes, okay. Guilty as charged. Yes, I do have an erection. Sorry. I hoped you wouldn't notice. But now that you know … it is really uncomfortable in my position. Mind if I readjust a bit before we continue?”
I didn't wait for an answer. Years of routine kicked in as I slipped my right hand in my pants, took my cock, and quickly readjusted it in the upright position where it could grow to full size. Or, well, grow … it really already was at full size.
As I was doing that, I heard Grace and Cindy whisper. I couldn't make out all the words but the fragments I heard revealed that she was explaining the concept of an erection to Grace.
Oh boy. How will Dave and Mel respond if they ever find out how I contributed to the sex-ed of their baby girl. I sure hope that pinky promise holds!
“Once more, sorry girls. I really should not have allowed my body to respond like that.”
“Oh stop it!” Grace piped up. “Cindy just tells me that an … ereption? … happens when a guy sees beautiful boobs. Why would you be sorry? I think ...” she abruptly stopped, then giggled, “Oops, almost gave it away. I think the girls you have felt have beautiful boobs. In fact, I think all the other girls have beautiful boobs! I can't wait until mine start to grow!”
All girls agreed that, yes, of course I would get hard. In fact, I should be ashamed of myself (or gay, very very gay) to not get hard over this game. It was normal. And, they insisted once more, it does not make this a sex thing. It's still just a game. A game that makes guys hard without being sexual.
I knew how wrong they were. I should have explained. But in this situation, how should I explain it without causing more problems.
Oh, I could have found a way, if I had wanted to. Just admit it. I really [/i]didn't [i]want to. Not anymore.
“But I was not lying,” I resumed, “I really am still unsure about number one. I think she is one of the twins. But she could also be Savannah, and then Cindy would be number three.”
I paused. “Okay, I'm not sure what the rules say on this. Can I feel both number one and number three again, to help pin it down?”
I once more felt a hand land on my jeans, softly moving up and down, as I heard Rhonda ask: “Are you sure that is the reason why you need to feel them once more?”
It took all of me to remove the hand from my crotch: “Please don't. I really need to focus.”
I deliberately used only these words. I knew I could not allow it. But whatever the reason for Rhonda (I assumed) to touch me like this, I definitely did not want to make her feel rejected.
Her actions might stem from insecurity. If she is sensitive in that area, I should not hurt her feelings. The focus excuse was perfect, because it was true. Just … not the complete truth. But I could not confess that I would lose control if I allowed her to continue.
“Okay. I'm sorry. I won't distract you again.”
I heard no regret, no bitterness, no frustration or hurt feelings in Rhonda's voice. It had worked.
For now. What if she tries again after the game?
I forcefully shoved that thought away. One benefit of this mental sidestep: I felt that my erection had waned, a bit.
Good, It'll still be hard enough to maintain composure with three more girls to go.
The other girls by now were ready. I don't know whether they had registered the interaction I just had with Rhonda. I hoped not.
As hands took my wrists, Grace explained: “Uncle Dave, your right hand is on number one, and your left hand on number three.”
I had not needed the explanation. Now that I felt both girls at the same time, the difference was obvious. There was the size difference, for sure. But the forms were also very different.
The tit in my right hand was very round, like a mandarin. My left hand was cupping a small, but very perky girl tit, pointing out like a small, soft, and rounded cone. Very different from each other, and each different again from the pear-shaped tits of Rhonda, that I could still recollect without having to feel them again.
Since Savannah's blouse was rather loose, I focused on the mental picture I had made of Ally's chest before the game started. I had looked at the size. I had noticed the lack of a bra line, and the hint of a nipple through the fabric, both betraying the lack of bra. But I had not paid enough conscious attention to the shape.
My security training kicked in. I dug in my memory where the full picture was still stored. In my mind, I saw the white T-shirt. Saw the size of the tits, saw the hint of a nipple, saw the shape.
Round, they had been round. Matching the tit in my right hand.
I withdrew my hands, determined to not let this game go out of control any further.
“Thanks, girls, I know enough. Number three is definitely NOT one of the twins. I think Savannah, but it might still be Cindy. And number one IS one of the twins, but I don't know which one. I'll come back to you later. But for now, let's continue with the next girl. Number two, please?”
Another easy one. My hands were on a completely flat chest.
I pondered what to do. I could have called her name and moved on, if I wanted. But I had noticed how enthusiastic she was that she was allowed to play with the other girls, and then even such a naughty and adult game. I did not want to disappoint her by treating her different than the other girls.
And after the time I spent on Rhonda, I would never get away with the excuse of only feeling the bare minimum to guess. She was only 8, but was smart enough to see through such a flimsy excuse.
So I gave her the full treatment. There was nothing to cup, but I did put my palms flat on her chest. I applied some subtle pressure, to feel the elasticity of her skin, feel the tiny tips of her nipples make an impression in my hands. I caressed her chest, using the tip of my index fingers to ever so gently trace the outline of her areolas, slowly, slowly, spiraling towards the centerpiece, the small nipples.
I had seen her naked just a month ago, when she wanted me to read her a story while she was in the bath; it had not been sexual at all, but I did of course remember how it looked. And what I felt was an exact match.
Until … until I finally reached those nipples and noticed how they were bigger than they were then.
Bigger? Was she aroused as well? My own niece? My own 8 year young niece? That can't be, right? That can't be right!
And then I heard it. Breathing. Heavier breathing than normal. And I felt her chest rise and fall in sync with her breath.
“Shh, control yourself,” Rhonda warned, “he can hear you. It should be by touch alone!”
Savannah chuckled: “I'm sure Dave already knows who this is and her breathing doesn't make any difference. But I do wonder why he keeps fondling her for so long?”
I explained: “You yourself insisted that if Grace plays along, she has to play along fully. So I am not cutting her any slack. Each of you gets the same treatment”.
But the same treatment does not always have the same effect, and Grace's breathing was now more like panting. I had to contain this. I had to remove the sexual tension, had to disrupt the flow.
A snap decision. “But yeah, this is Gracie alright. And there's one thing I can do to her only.”
With that, I quickly leaned forward, directing my mouth to the left nipple, lips puckered as if I wanted to kiss her – and then in the last second, as I already heard the sharp intake of breath from all the girls around me, I blew a giant raspberry right on what once would be Grace's left tit, while at the same time using my hands to tickle her left side and right armpit.
As always when I tickle her and blow raspberry's, she squealed with delight and fright, while wriggling all of her lithe body at once.
But it was not the same as normal. Her response sounded … different. Excited, rather than frightened. And it felt different to me too. It felt … good!
As I returned to my upright position and rested my hands in my lap, as I heard her continued heavy breathing, I could still feel the outline of Grace's nipple on my lips, still taste her skin.
It was a bad decision, I should have gone for the navel.
But damn, what a fantastic bad decision to make. It felt great.
I almost felt the inquisitive looks of girls on me. I felt I should explain.
So I explained how I always tickled Grace. How I always blew raspberries on her navel, or in her neck, while tickling. And that I actually had been aiming for the chest between the nipples, as a safe but unexpected zone, to just surprise her and have some fun. I think the girls bought it.
Well, to be honest, most of it was true. Just not the part about my bad aim.
I registered how Grace's breathing slowly returned to the normal pace. I apologized to her, for surprising her like this. And to the girls for breaking the rules of the game.
Grace responded, “It's okay Uncle Dave, I don't mind.”
And then I felt her hugging me. Kissing me, an innocent, childish peck on the cheek.
And I heard her whisper in my ear, very softly, for my ears only: “I actually liked it. It felt already good when your hands touched me, but even better when your mouth did. I'm glad you did.”
Innocent as the hug was, I was aware that only my own thin T-shirt was now separating my skin from Grace's smooth, warm, perfectly flat skin. That her tiny nipples, those nipples that I still felt on my lips, still tasted in my mouth, were pressed against my chest.
My cock was fully erect again. Rock hard.
An erection over an 8 year old? My own 8 year old niece? What the hell is this game doing to me? What am I turning into? Or … have I always been like this, have I suppressed this?
Damn, this game better finish fast. I don't know how I can control myself. I had explored four girls now. Only two more to go.
Maintain control. You can do this!
I called for number five to be next.
The girls swapped positions, and then, once more, I felt two hands grabbing my wrists. Moving my hands upwards, and forward, slowly, ever so slowly. Reluctantly? Or teasingly? I shooed away that thought. I couldn't tell so there was no usable information there.
I immediately recognized these tits, even though I had never touched this girl before. The same two and a half inches. The same round, mandarin-like shape. This was definitely the second twin. I considered skipping the full exploration, knowing that feeling and massaging these small tits would make my erection bigger yet. I felt already some precum leaking. What if the stain is visible? What if the girls notice?
But I had just explained my fondling of Grace as treating all girls the same. I had no excuse to skip this girl. I had to explore.
Not that I really minded. I just was concerned about the effect it had on me. Worried about my self control.
I tried to focus my mind. One part on an almost studious examination, trying to find any difference, however tiny, between the twins. The other part I forced to focus on math exercises. I hoped that this would alleviate my hormonal response.
I once more traced the outline of the small globes, cupped those round tits, pressed and massaged. Lifted the boobs, dropped them while maintaining the slightest contact to feel the bounce. I once more gently traced soft skin, around the mounds, all over the mounds, on to the areolas. The same oval areolas I had felt on number one. When I reached the nipples I felt a first, small difference. These nipples were smaller, just a bit, than what I remembered feeling on number one.
I continued my movements until I was satisfied that I had given this girl the same amount of attention as all others, then declared, “I know this is the other of the twins. I don't know which. I don't want to guess yet. I want to check number six first, but after that I hope that I can once more compare one and five, the two twins, to see if I can do better than a blind guess”.
Given the precedent I had already set by recalling number three, the girls couldn't deny me this.
As number six, the last of the girls, lifted my hands to her chin, I recalled that I was sure about Grace, Rhonda, and the twins. This was probably Cindy, but I still entertained the option that Cindy could be number three, and then this had to be Savannah. All in all, only two options left so it had to be an easy choice.
But I did not want to rush it. I had to do a full exploration anyway, (“had to”? … Oh, you poor, poor man) after feeling Grace and explaining why to Savannah.
But in this case, I really had to. I knew the twins were likely going to be a 50/50. I did not want a second gamble. I really wanted to be sure about this one.
One more time, the final time this night, I allowed my hands to go through the now familiar routine. I felt, stroked, massaged, brushed, pressed, traced, and sampled all I could sample. Once more I marveled at the softness of the skin of all these girls, so much softer than any of the adult girlfriends I had had. And once more I marveled at the glorious diversity of nature.
This girl's tits had yet another shape. The outline of her glands was larger than the other girls (except Rhonda, of course). The flesh was slightly less firm. It didn't feel saggy, but more … unfinished. It did cause these tits to be larger and flatter, like pancakes.
The areolas were incredibly hard to find, there was almost no difference in the structure of the skin where they started and ended. And the nipples appeared absent at first as well. But as I caressed and felt more, I also felt how they erected, until they were two proudly standing pokies. While she did a much better job hiding the sound of her breath than Grace, I did feel her chest heaving more.
How on earth did all these girls get so excited over me?
Not over me, I corrected myself, over being fondled. Don't think you're special.
Or am I?
I mentally compared what I felt on girls three and six to with what I had seen on Savannah and Cindy. As I cupped and squeezed some more, I realized that in a bra with enough support, these tits could cause the amount of protrusion I had seen under Savannah's shirt.
But number three had that amount of protrusion as well, with or without bra. I released the pressure, allowing the girl's tits to return to their normal position. Despite the arousal, I could still work out that, especially if I mentally discounted the now firmly forward-poking nipples, these tits would actually match the lesser protrusion of Cindy's shirt.
At that point I was sure. Number six is Cindy. And number three was indeed Savannah.
And at the same time, I suddenly realized: I was actually cupping and fondling the tits of my 12 year old niece. Cindy. Tomboy Cindy … no, former tomboy Cindy: the looks were still there, but her behavior was changing. And there was nothing tomboyish about the erected nipples that my fingers had been circling just a second ago.
It is strange what a difference there is between fondling a random girl that might theoretically be my niece, or not; or fondling actually really Cindy. I felt my cock twitch, felt a gush of precum flowing out. I hastily retracted my hands, tried to remember what math problem I had given myself.
“Okay, so you, number six, must be Cindy.”
My voice definitely broke here and there's no way the girls could have overheard it this time.
I quickly continued: “And that means I am now also sure that Savannah is number three. That leaves just the twins. Numbers one and five. Could I please examine the both of you once more? Side by side this time?”
As the girls were once more moving around to get into position, I wrecked my brain. I recalled the feeling of the twins' boobs. How they were the same, exactly the same.
Except … there was one difference. A small one. Not enough to be sure, but it was a start. It gave me an idea.
A plan started to form.
“No need to be secret about it anymore, one and five are indeed the twins,” Cindy admitted as I heard girls switching position again. “And I must say that I'm impressed. Your four other guesses were all correct. But I'm sure that you can't tell the twins apart. This will just be a lucky guess if you get it right.”
“We'll see,” I responded, “is number one on my left or on my right?”
“One is left, five is right,” Savannah chimed in, as my hands were being raised towards the final tits of the night.
I had a plan.
But could I? What I was about to do was not good.
All the things I had done so far … I felt that somehow, some way, I could explain it as part of the game, as exploring. That was about to end. What I had planned firmly crossed the boundaries we had all silently agreed upon.
I had been unsure of whether or not to do it, but Cindy's challenge triggered me. I really don't like to lose a game. Even less after such a remark. I didn't want 50%. I wanted better odds.
And my plan was the only way. I wanted to win, wanted to prove Cindy … well, no idea what I needed to prove. But I did want to win.
I had noticed, throughout the evening, how different the twins dealt with the onset of their sexuality.
Ally seemed to want to just dive in at the deep end of the pool. She was the one in the provocative clothes. She had suggested we play this game.
Hannah was more the type to dip only a single toe in the water. She had new feelings too, but she wanted to figure then out first, before doing more. She was the last to agree to the game, the first to object when I suggested that the girls should bare before I was blindfolded.
This difference was my key to winning.
As soon as my hands touched tits, I started kneading. What I did was not exploring. It was not inquisitive. It was no gentle feeling. It was pure and simple, lustful massaging of tits.
It was something I would normally only do with committed girlfriends, or clearly agreed upon one night stands. If I had to describe it in two words, they could only be: sexual assault.
Mind you, it was not violent in any way. Far from me to criticize anyone's fetish, but violence, or even any type of rough treatment … not my thing. I didn't hurt the girls. But I did apply all the techniques that I had learned over the years, from various girlfriends and many more one night stands. Two minutes of this would arouse a stone.
Luckily (really?) I didn't need two minutes. I needed just seconds.
It came as a total surprise for the girls, and that was my intention. I wanted to know their instinctive response. I paid close attention to what I felt. And that gave me my answers.
My left hand felt how, instantly, a nipple erected to full arousal. And I felt an increase in pressure, as girl one, instinctively, leaned her upper body into my hand, to feel and enjoy the pleasure I was giving her even more. That has to be Ally.
And at the same time, my right hand felt the boob it was touching slightly retracting. The cause of another instinct-driven response, an urge to withdraw. A flight response. Hannah's flight response.
I quickly retracted my hands. Both hands.
I'm sure Ally would have preferred… Oh, shut up!
I quickly retracted my hands. But even in that short time, I did feel that Hannah's nipple was erected almost as much as Ally's. She didn't hate the feeling. She enjoyed it, as much as Ally did. But it was new. The unexpected arousal that made Ally lean in for more, had scared Hannah and caused a flight instinct to kick in.
I withdrew my hands, and solemnly declared: “I now know. This is not a guess. I know, for sure, who is who. On my right, girl number five, is Hannah. And number one, on my left, (I pointed, briefly touching her bare skin – not sure where, I had been hoping to catch her tit, knowing how she craved for more, but it more likely was just her arm), is Ally.”
The girls remained silent. Impressed?
I decided to break the silence.
“Do I get a prize now?”
Continue to: Part 3: No prize? Priceless! >> | << Return to: Part 1: Six girls << Table Of Contents << P.D. Vile's stories