When it was raining we would sometimes go to the barn to shelter. The barn was unused and in a state of decline. The two large doors were off their hinges and several slats of wood had been knocked out by a succession of kids who misused the place from time to time. The barn sat in the corner of an overgrown field surrounded by rusting machinery and stacks of rotting timber. The roof was sound so at least it was dry.
Elaine and I sometimes went round with a kid whose nickname was Oil - he had greasy black hair and he often brought along his younger sister. Monica was great. I liked her a lot but not in that special way I liked Elaine. The two were very different. Monica had short black hair, wore dungarees and played even better football than Oil - a regular tomboy. She had a vast amount of energy for things like climbing trees and possessed a wicked tongue. I regarded her a just a fun mate rather than one of those alluring girl things.
The four of us were standing about one autumn day, kicking stones down the road and wondering what to do. It started to rain and Monica suggested we go to the barn. It seemed like a good idea - no-one else would be there in the rain so we trekked off across the fields and were soon in front of the great doors. Oil and I tugged at one and opened it enough for us to slip through. It was good to get out of the rain which was becoming quite heavy. The rain drummed on the tin roof.
We listened to the rain for a while then scanned the barn for diversion. There was a lot of interesting junk lying about; wood, bottles, binder twine, a few rusty tin cans and even an oil drum that made a fine resonant sound when beaten with short sticks. We pivoted a plank of wood across a log and took it in turns to stand on the low end while one of us would jump on the other end to launch the target into the air. Very unsuccessfully - the plank broke. I then had the bright idea of setting up a kind of skittles using a block of wood tied on a length of string tied to a rafter to knock down a selection of stacked tins and bottles set up on the drum. This worked out quite well. Monica stood on my shoulders to tie the string to the rafter, Elaine collected and set up the skittles and Oil made sure the clobber could effectively reach its target.
We all had a go and by arranging the tins and bottles so they were suitably spread out it soon became competitive. Monica then proclaimed that a forefeit would have to be paid by anyone who failed to knock all the objects down in five swings. We all agreed - it added spice to the game. We all some got through the first round and in the second Monica cleared hers in four. I was next and smashed all but one down in fours - my fifth swing just clipped the last tin and to my chagrin it didn't fall. I was the first to pay a forfeit. The others moved to the far corner of the barn and whispered together. There was a minute of giggling and indecision, after which Monica with a glint in her eyes, pointed to a missing slat of wood about five feet above the floor and instructed me to pee out of that hole while we watch.
My bladder was full enough to make the attempt but I knew the task was beyond my power. I took my penis in hand and pissed with all my might. I got near but the end result was a wet wall and a small pool inside.Oil smirked and the two girls laughed.They were obviously more interested in watching than my lack of achievement but nevertheless they made me feel feeble. I brought there attention back to the game as soon as I could - maybe I would have the last laugh.
The game continued, Oil scored a four and Elaine scraped by with another five. In the next round Monica broke the record with a three and with some sweeping swings I equaled her score. Oil could only manage a five …. the tension was mounting and Elaine was getting nervous. She only cleared one can and one bottle with her first three swings but her fourth knocked over three more … and her fifth missed altogether. I smiled inside.
Oil, Monica and I huddled in the corner to discuss her fate. We cruelly looked around from time to time to point to various high places in the barn but on the end it was my suggestion that was carried - Oil announced the result - she had to climb on top of the oil drum and take down her panties. Elaine hesitated but Monica gave her encouragement. Oil started to beat the drum and I said go on in a kindly way that may not have completely disguised my excitement. I walked over to her, took her hand, led her to the drum and helped her climb up. I think she was secretly relieved she didn't have to do anything more dangerous but she was inwardly complaining it was too naughty. With a little more prompting though she fiddled under her skirt and slipped her little white panties down her legs. We could just see under her skirt from our position but what I saw was quite baffling. There was only an intriguing crevis. This was no great enlightenment. I wanted to see more, I wanted to know more, I wanted to touch.
Monica shouted ‘Lift up your skirt and dance around like they do on top of the pops'. ‘No, that wasn’t a part of the forfeit' Elaine answered. ‘ If you do you will not have to pay any more forfeits this game’, I suggested and Oil concurred. It was a fair deal. Elaine was the least skilled at skittles and after a moments thought she slowly hitched her skirt up over her thighs to reveal a beautifully bare mound of venus with a delicious slit that disappeared between her legs. She tucked her skirt into her waistband whilst I stared moon-eyed. Monica nudged me and said ‘ What’s wrong with you - never seen a fanny before?' ‘Course I have’I said but everyone knew I was lying. It made Elaine very embarrassed and after one of two perfunctory hip wiggles to comply with the demand for a dance, she bent over, pulled up her panties and clambered off the drum. I wanted to cuddle her, to kiss her and oh to have explored her nether regions but instead we resumed that silly game of skittles.
There was an unspoken agreement that we would continue to play the game until everyone had forfeited something and when Oil missed we had him swinging from a rafter bu one arm. Monica, the tricky little soul, was so good at knocking the cans down we had to cheat to catch her out. We spread the cans wider and she didn't protest. She was very extrovert and liked to show off but it was difficult to dream up something wicked for her to do. I suggested she kissed everyone but as Oil was her brother and Elaine another girl this idea didn't get far. The dirty Oil had a brainwave and I was chosen to pronounce judgement.
I picked up a coke bottle from the pile of fallen skittles and instructed her to pee into this bottle. She brazenly agreed without any hesitation at all. She undid her dungarees and took them right off and her panties followed. ‘I don’t want them to get wet she reasoned before squatting down. She worked the nose of the bottle into the top of her slit. This was an interesting performance and I watched meticulously. I was fascinated to learn how girls pee-ed. I thought it must be very difficult for them with nothing in the way of a male tube. After a tantilising wait a golden trickle splashed around the bottle. Some went in but most ran down the outside and when the stream was eventually finished Monica held up the bottle with some satisfaction. I still couldn't work out quite where it had come from or where exactly it emerged from - maybe I could ask Monica another time. She was much easier to approach about these matters than Elaine. I still had uch to find out - that slit was a most mysterious thing.
The rain had by now stopped and Elaine, who thought all this rudeness was getting out of control, decided she wanted to go home. It was about time anyway. The last of the days light was fading as we slipped out between those dark heavy doors and disappeared into the undergrowth. It had been a day to remember. Monica was evidently not just a tom-boy.
to be continued