The five of us squeezed into the back seat of the limo. I think it made us feel more secure somehow, going off into the night, with nothing to protect us except our faithful driver. He would shadow us, Rose said, to keep us out of danger.

"But still, we must have our wits about us. Men will be men, you know. Let's support each other and help each other. And we'll definitely team up on any women who bug us."

"Yes!" we all agreed. So this would be a real nightclub, not something specially arranged by Rose with one of her customers. It would be just us in our teensy bikinis against all the world. I shivered at the thought. Mine didn't even cover my bottom properly, but Rose assured me that everyone would be really cool and as daringly dressed as I.

"The beach atmosphere is totally liberating," Rose told me. "The cover charge where we're going is $200.00 per person, so you can rest assured we won't be partying with mulish college boys on spring break. On the other hand, drug lords can afford to get in sometimes, and their cronies, so don't think you can just let your guard down completely. And women are always bitchy." Polly nodded.

"Yes, they always take too LONG sitting on the commode!" Polly said, brushing back her hair and sticking her nose up.

"Commode! Where did you learn that?" I asked her.

"I know big words, Furry," Polly told me, using my nickname. I wasn't as furry as Rose, but I guess I did have more now than when I was 10. So, furry it was, even though most men might say I needed a little more.

"How do you spell it?" I asked her.

"Commode," Polly said with an important air. "C- um, O and, M and, uh, MODE!" Polly announced.

"Can you spell potty?" I teased.

"No, but I can SMELL potty!" Polly said, giggling, and I had to pinch her for that. For which she started pulling my hair.

"Girls! Girls!" Rose admonished us. She handed us lipstick. "Here, put on your makeup. We don't want to be outshone at the cabana. And brush your hair." She put down a vanity mirror for us, concealed in the ceiling. She and Joanne and Sylvia shared lipstick. Polly and I dutifully made ourselves up and brushed out our hair. We did not bother to pin it up, although Rose piled hers atop her head to give herself a regal look. Sylvia did the same, then insisted on making Joanne's brown hair into braids. It was strange to see them without their bottoms and bosoms bare. Polly and I still wore our wristlets and anklets of steel, and our collars. We wanted to take them off but Rose said no.

As I contemplated the effect my collar and bracelets would have on the people at t cabana, Polly began counting stars. We sat beside each other. Rose said it would take awhile to reach the cabana. It was farther away than the saloon. Soon I found myself counting stars with Polly to ease my misgivings.

Gradually the lights of the city became a dim glow in the distance. The twinkled like some distant Bethlehem, then like Jerusalem, perhaps, and finally like New York City, although we were of course quite far away from all those destinations. The light from the city began to overshadow the stars and finally Polly and I couldn't see them well enough any more to count. We'd lost count, anyway, and set instead to figuring out the constellations. Polly found what she thought was a bull, with a rather large endowment where it mattered. All I could see was a snake winding across the heavens, poised to bite me.

Rose handed out shoes for each of us, plus a towel to wipe our feet with. I passed the towel through my toes, savoring the feel of it. It was hot. Rose had kept it in a little steamer. There were three towels in all. We shared them.

"I sent the driver to pick up the best possible shoes for dancing in," Rose said. "Given, of course, that they must be high heels. It wouldn't be proper for us to dance in anything less, I don't think."

I looked at my pair. They were very nice. Open toed, open heeled, with straps to tie round my ankles, over my anklet bracelets. I helped Polly tie hers on and she helped me with mine. We threaded them through clasps on our leg manacles to make them more difficult to take off.

"If a man can't get your shoes off he won't try to put you in bed," Polly intoned, sharing some old wives tale from primary school. She told me she and her friends used to double-knot their tennies before walking home from school. I simply nodded. It was no use arguing with her. She was always certain of what she told me, until, that is, experience proved her wrong. Like a child sure that gum won't stick in her hair, or that the oven isn't really so hot, or that you can't wet your panties if you hold your breath. There was no way to prove her wrong on this point with just five women in the car, so I skipped it.

The buildings of the city finally enveloped us. We travelled over a bridge and found ourselves at once within canyon walls of windowed concrete. I gazed up at them. Behind each was a different story, I knew. Somewhere someone was fucking, no doubt, gazing down at our limo, perhaps, as it passed. A rush of cars swept us along the street and we sped like flotsam, I thought, being just a passenger, to our destination.

We pulled up to a busy sidewalk. The driver got out amidst swirls of people. They were dressed mostly in tropical clothes. The beach was nearby. Some people wore just their swimsuits, nothing more, for which I was grateful. Our driver opened the door where Polly and I sat. We were the first to get out. I felt the eyes of the passersby staring into the vee of my legs as I got up from the seat of the limo and exited through the door. Rose followed quickly, ushered us forward. Joanne and Sylvia followed. The club was only a few steps away. We crossed the sidewalk, and Rose placed a wad of bills in the doorman's open palm. He was dressed like a royal servant, with top hat, gloves, long boots and a long tailed jacket. He nodded, passed the money to a woman behind a window. She counted it quickly as we passed through the door to the club, a glass door that a second doorman opened for us. He was dressed as the first. Nobody checked our I.D., although it would be saying too much of the doorman's manners to say he didn't check us out.

I found myself huddled with Rose and Polly and Joanne and Sylvia inside a large lobby with flashing strobe lights. In the center, people were dancing. Beyond a band played. Above us was a balcony of glass, where yet more people danced. It stretched around the four walls of the club and, looking up, polly and I found ourselves staring straight into the crotches of women and men. Most wore swimsuits, like we did, although a few more modest dancers wore clothes. A waitress passed overhead, wearing a miniskirt, but it was quite useless with Polly and I staring straight up from below.

"She doesn't have any panties on!" Polly cried, pointing upward.

"Be good dear," Rose told her. "Please don't point at people's genitals." She herded us toward the dance floor, while the doorman who'd let us in nodded to another who approached Rose and asked her which table she'd like. There were round tables scattered about, many of them filled. The ones that were empty belonged to dancers.

"Whichever one is closest to the floor," Rose said to the man. Despite her bikini, she had a purse with her. A small, leather one, black as her suit. She handed it to the man to use to mark our table with. She kept it in the limo for just such uses, she told me.

"It's got a few condoms in it if you meet someone really special," she confided.

"A few what?" Polly asked. Joanne and Sylvia had gone dancing with Rose before. They did not pay any attention, knowing already what Rose was telling me.

"You know, rubbers," I told Polly.

"Good," she replied. "I shoot rubber bands at the boys at school when they bother me!"

"Not rubber-" I began, but gave up. I had no real interest in shouting over the music about condoms, especially as several eager men were already approaching us.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I'm the chaperone for these girls. Would you like to ask them something?" Rose said with a smile. Joanne and Sylvia, not included in Rose's little introduction, let themselves be led away by men who slipped up alongside them. As for Polly and I, we found ourselves staring at two extremely studly dudes who vied, at that moment, with Louis and Andre and Jack for my liking. They wore abbreviated swimsuits within which their balls and organs seemed to be almost bristling. The nearest had on a cut-off t-shirt, showing me his belly, while Polly's suitor wore an open vest. I wondered if he were gay. They both looked to be in their early 20's, just old enough to know when to hold and to fold, I suspected, and the thought excited me. To my surprise Rose approached the one I was contemplating and pointedly stuck her finger in the front of his suit. Pulling it open, she stared right down into his equipment. I wished I could see, but he was just a little too far back from me. I would have to rely on Rose's judgement.

"Well, you certainly LOOK healthy," Rose said to the young man. A girl came up between them, missing her bra, wearing just bikini panties. Her breasts jogged easily on her chest. She wore long glass earrings. They looked almost penis-shaped. Her lips were wet and open. I felt an urge to stick my finger in her mouth and watch her suck it.

"Hi," she said to me, her voice soft despite the amplified music. Yet I could hear her. I could read her lips. She seemed utterly unaffected. She was no more than 16. I felt a kinship with her. She glanced along the nearest boy's belly into the suit Rose still was inspecting.

"Oooh, cool," the girl sighed. She brushed a hand along her belly. It was flat, with the gentlest of swelling right where her navel was, as if to promise something to us all if she were fucked.

Rose let the man's suit snap shut. "You have permission to dance with my charges," Rose told him.

"Are they your daughters?" the man asked Rose. She flushed a little.

"Do I look that old? No, of course not. They're not my daughters!" She pushed the first man aside and went to the other. She was no less frank with him, despite his muscles and his hard-edged demeanor.

"Yes, I see you're well equipped too," Rose complimented the man. In retaliation he pulled open the front of her bikini bottoms.

"Monkey see, monkey do," he said to excuse himself, and looked with candid ardor at her bush. Rose let her hands drop to her sides and did not protest.

"Do you like what you see?" she asked, laughing, as he held open her front.

"I'll kiss it for you," the man said. Rose smiled, looked at me. I tried not to blush. Gently the man placed Rose's panties back against her delta. Then he placed a finger beneath her and felt between her legs. "Your swimsuit's moist," he said. Rose looked at me again.

"Did you wet your panties?" Polly asked Rose with wide eyes.

"Go dance, dear," Rose replied.

The man I thought would take Polly went instead for Rose. They began swaying to the beat of the music as Polly and I joined the guy with the cutoff tee.

"What's your name?" he asked each of us, telling us he was Brad. The girl introduced herself as Cheyenne. Another male, seeing the surfeit of females around Brad, soon joined us. We minded not. He was Darwin, a blonde surfer, with trunks as full as Brad's.

I noticed the floor we were dancing on was strangely modern- looking. It seemed to have pegged holes in it every few inches. They were covered with mesh, I saw, as I bent down to look. Strange, but I had no explanation for them. I had to pull my swimsuit up when I straightened my back. The slightest bow in my frame, the littlest bending over, and it slipped further down my heinie, exposing my white cheeks.

"Your daughter has a lovely ass," Brad told Rose as we found ourselves dancing within earshot.

"She's going to have it whipped later tonight," Rose confided. I blushed. Rose indicated Polly and said she would be treated the same. Brad seemed shocked. His cock grew, straining his swimsuit. He became noticeably uncomfortable from his erection.

"I hope the suds start soon," he said.

"Suds?" I asked.

"You'll see," Cheyenne assured me. "Any minute now."

Suddenly, even as she spoke, a spray of water erupted from the floor. Squirting fountains began shooting up and wetting our bodies. They didn't spurt high enough to hit our faces, but I found my crotch and my belly getting rained upon. Even my breasts were not out of reach of the higher spurts. Cheyenne laughed, jiggled her tits. The water was not a thorough, unrelenting spray, like a fountain, but rather a series of distinct streams emanating from the floor. There were just enough of them, though, that there was no escaping being wettened. And for each fountain of water there was, right beside it, a fountain spraying some kind of liquid cream. It smelled like Cool-Whip and I knew now why the cover charge was $200.00. Somebody must have bought an awful lot of it to spray it on us so freely.

"Take off your bottoms," Cheyenne urged me. She loosed her own as she spoke. Feeling uninhibited in all the spurting cream, I ran my fingers over my drawstrings and tugged at them. I felt my heinie become more exposed than ever, and, worse, my pussy too. Cream shot up and hit my cunny as my panties fell away. Not wanting to be alone, I reached over and grabbed teasingly at Polly's panties. She tried to resist but, for some reason, fought with only half her strength and I had hers undone in no time.

Brad laughed and yanked down his Speedos. His cock, so eager to break free, sprang up and was immediately anointed with Cool-Whip. He let his balls swing over the spray and they got a baptism of their own. I reached back and undid my top and let it flutter away. I felt like an Indian, naked as Cheyenne, and I made sure Polly's top came off too. We danced away from our things. I knew I should recover them from the floor but the whole atmosphere was so heady I just didn't care. I wiggled my tits and felt their freedom. Brad watched with mesmerized eyes.

"I love you, Brad," I called to him. Laughing, I asked, "What's your last name?"

"Pitt," he replied.

"Liar," I giggled.

"Liar yourself, what's your last name?" he asked me above the din of the music.

"Liar, liar, ass on fire!" I shouted, and I reached back and whacked his naked haunches. He shouted, grabbed me, and I let him pull me close. I felt my breasts crush themselves against his chest as he aimed for my mouth with his tongue and found it. Beyond us Polly and Cheyenne were drawn close by Darwin and he stood feeling their bottoms as he kissed them.

"Let's fuck," Brad begged me.

"I don't know," I replied. I wished only to dance, kiss a little, perhaps. But then again, my thoughts whirling, I could feel him snake-like against my belly, so hard, so very impressive.

A woman's hand, its nails long and chiseled, placed itself softly on my fanny. I broke my mouth from Brad's, turned. It was Rose.

"Come," she said. She interrupted Darwin and Polly also and, with our new friends accompanying us, she led us up some steps to a private room, retrieving her purse first, in case we needed Polly's Ôrubber bands.'

We entered into a small room with a crackling fireplace. I let myself be drawn to it. The water had been chilly and I felt grateful for the fire. I extended my hands to it, standing before it, and let the heat bathe my tummy. Then I turned around and offered it my ass.

Rose found a pile of towels and passed them around. We stood drying ourselves before the warmth of the fire. I felt romantic. I was glad the water had not wet my hair. Polly found a large cowboy hat and, perhaps to regain just a touch of modesty, she plopped it on her head.

"Oh, what's that?" she asked, adjusting her hat. She pointed to a leather stool in the corner. It was shaped like a saddle and it had a pommel with reins. Polly wandered over to it.

"You don't want to sit on that, darling," Rose cautioned. "It's an electric bucking bronco. Someone must have decided to store it here."

But Polly was curious. The padded stool with the pommel was too tall for her to mount standing on the floor. She placed both her hands up on the seat, and then lifted a foot and stuck it in a stirrup that dangled down along the side of the stool. The thing was a real-looking saddle, I had to admit, complete with everything but the horse itself. But why would anyone mount it on a stool?

Darwin eased himself over to Polly and offered to help her up. She accepted, and he hoisted her bottom up for her so that she could settle herself in the saddle. She looked just like a cowgirl and, clearly enjoying herself, she pulled the chin strap of her hat down below her chin so she wouldn't lose it.

Polly picked up the reins that dangled down from the pommel in front of the stool. Holding them aloft in her hands, she began to bounce her ass up and down on the smooth leather saddle. It was padded, but stiffly soft, so that her bottom did not sink down into it but was nonetheless not discomfited as she bounced up and down.

"Giddap, giddap! Go, pony, go!" Polly shouted happily. She turned to Rose. "I want to GO someplace!" she whined. "On my horsey." She was being utterly childish again, but, judging from the mesmerized look on Brad and Darwin's faces, they didn't mind in the least.

Rose whispered to the boys and their eyes lit up. With quick steps they approached Polly's Ôhorse.' As Polly watched, curious and, I think, a little randy from the dancing, they buckled her legs below the knee into leather straps that hung from the sides of the stool. I hadn't taken note of them earlier. They sprouted from the sides of the stool, right where Polly's calves were, and it was the easiest of things for Brad and Darwin to Ôbuckle her up', one might say, as she sat watching them.

Rose glided over to the front of the stool and picked up a little control box. Wires ran from it to the underside of the saddle. A tube hung down beneath the underside of the saddle, and I wondered what was in it.

"Polly, did you ever ride on a horsey at the grocery?" Rose asked.

"ÔCourse!" Polly replied, quite confident now. She was the center of attention and loving every minute of it. "Is this ride sort of like that?"

"Yes, sort of," Rose grinned. I began to suspect something fishy lay in wait in the tube beneath the saddle. Rose looked at Cheyenne. The girl smiled, perhaps knowing, perhaps simply happy.

The stool began moving.

"Oh, goody!" Polly cried. She bounced in time with it, first exaggerating its own movements, then soon finding herself bounced by it, and quite vigorously. Rose slowed the stool to a stop.

"Keep going!" Polly insisted.

"Oh, don't worry, Polly." Rose replied. "I want you to sit very still for a minute, O.K.?"

"O.K., but I don't want to have to wait long for my ride," Polly reminded her.

"You won't," Rose replied. "Expect a little visitor, though. Right up your..."

"Oh!" Polly shouted. Rose motioned for Cheyenne and I to hold down her thighs. We rushed up to her, too amused not to. I could guess now what was about to happen, and Cheyenne could too. A fake penis was going to nose its way up her cunt!

"Yo, yo, yo, NO!" Polly squealed, looking uncertain at first, feeling something begin to poke at her from below. She seemed to me like a child awaiting its poop, except in her case something was going up, not down.

"YAAAK! Not in my bottom!" Polly suddenly screeched. I felt my eyes bulge even as I watched her own do the same. Up her bottom? Was the thing really going to take her anal virginity?

"I picked the slim one, Polly. Behave!" Rose called from where she stood operating the control box.

"Nooo, nooo, nooo, nooOOOH!" Polly hooted, while Cheyenne and I began laughing so hard we could barely keep her down. I felt my tits jiggling on my chest and knew the men were delighted to see me so happy.

"It's going too far upppp," Polly yelled as she lifted her chin up and wiggled her ass, trying to escape the insidious penis.

"You've only two inches, Polly, and it's quite slender. Enjoy yourself. It's your first time," Rose told her. But Polly's cries grew ever louder, though they were not of pain, just great anxiety. When Cheyenne and I felt she could no longer buck up and escape the intruder, we let go. Instantly she yanked up her thighs and I peeked beneath her bottom. A Slim-Jim sized cock was worming its way into her heinie and she could not get rid of it. Polly clenched her cheeks, trying to stop it, but it was heavily greased and rose with implacable vigor.