Darby

 

Darby was 15. She was also precocious, audacious, and a tease. Had she been 12 years old, she would have qualified for a Lolita, but as a teen, she was quite aware of her behavior.

Three years ago I was shooting a video for a major tour company on a three-week trek through Europe. My job was to document what a wonderful time trip participants had on tour. Easily two-thirds of the group were women traveling with other women. A few husbands made up the other third. Darby was the exception. She was the niece and traveling companion of a gentle, timid woman of about 60 years. Auntie paid the way and Darby would play.

Our tour leader, John, was top-notch, a fifty-something British gentleman with impeccable credentials who spoke six languages. He made every day an adventure and every city and site exciting. But not even John could keep Darby in line.

Almost everywhere we went, Darby found her way into mischief. More often than not, she would wander off either teasing local boys or searching for gelato, or plunging into the nearest fountain getting completely wet revealing her knickers, and sometimes, her braless little breasts through her summer clothes.

Among the group was an enjoyable lesbian couple that I befriended early on. On a warm afternoon over an aperitif in Paris, I confided in them my bisexuality. They weren’t surprised saying their gaydar sensed this already. We were giggling about this when we realized Darby had been eavesdropping on us.

Darby decided knowing I was bi was something she could use to bug, bother and tease me about. Visiting both the Jardin du Luxembourg and the Fontaine des Mers, on two different days, she took her usual fountain plunges, emerging like a wet t-shirt contestant, parading in front of me, asking me if she’s pretty if I liked what I saw. She taunted me at meals with quips about girls, girls kissing girls, and would flirt pointlessly. And, she began to parade about the hotel halls and breakfast rooms in just to tops to her pajamas. This went on in Paris, Lyon, and Aix en Provence. She was getting to me and was beginning to spoil the tour for me.

On the train from Aix-en-Provence to Nice, I told John that I had pretty much had it with Darby. He let me know he had already talked to Auntie to no avail. He suggested I try to avoid Darby while he again talked to Auntie. I agreed. I had no status on the tour except as a participant, so I couldn’t do anything but complain.

In Nice, there is a playful water fountain in the Promenade du Paillon named Miroir d’Eau consisting of row upon row of water jets squirting from the ground. It’s a great place to cool off in the summer. Children have no trouble getting soaked darting from jet to jet. Of course, Darby, wearing a light little sundress, joined the children. Her dress was so thin, once wet, it became nearly transparent. Our group was accustomed to that. But today, Darby was wearing nothing, absolutely nothing underneath. She approached me, grinning, taunting me with “like what you see, Sparks,” twirling and teasing.

John moved in to help me, but I was pissed off. Before he could intervene, I grabbed Darby by the arm – with a vice-like grip – and dragged her to a nearby bench, flung her over my knee, and got about three hard whacks in before she tried to squirm away. I pulled her arm back keeping her pinned. With my other hand, I flipped her dress up exposing her teen ass for all of Nice to see. I added a dozen more hard slaps before letting her go.

She turned around and faced me, quivering, not quite in tears, but close. The tour group, by now gathered around us, jointly gasped as if they had all been holding their breath. A moment of awkward silence passed before the lesbian couple began to applaud. The others joined in, all smiles.

Darby ran to her Auntie, who stopped her at arm's length. With all eyes on them, Auntie said, “You earned that young lady. Now go put something decent on.”

Darby was much better behaved the rest of the tour and mostly kept to herself. At the Rome airport where everyone shared hugs and warm good-byes, Darby caught me alone just before boarding her plane. I thought she might apologize for her behavior. But no. She smiled the sweetest smile and said, “The spanking was the best part of the trip.”

Boobs, braless, and pokies

 

My sixteen-year-old friend and “tutorette,” Trouble, came over yesterday to talk about going back to face-to-face school and organizing her studies. We sat on my patio in the sun, but a cool front was coming through and there we just the hint of a chill in air. I was wearing jeans with a soft sweater and was, as usual, braless. As you might imagine, the cool air caused my nipples to firm  up and come to “full attention.”

Trouble is accustomed to my braless habit, she knows I’m not shy by any stretch. But today, she glanced at my little pokies and said, “Does anyone ever say anything about your going braless?”

I thought for a long moment before replying. “Occasionally,” I answered, “like now. Does it bother you?”

“No, no, not at all,” she blurted, “you’re just so casual about it. I don’t think I, you know, could.”

“Then don’t,” I replied, “when you’re older – out of school – you decide what you wear or don’t, what is right for you.

We talked a little about how I feel about the prudishness of our culture and women’s bodies. But, I did get a bit preachy and said, “At your age, you need to be particularly cautious about your appearance. Especially at school or socially. You know how mean teenagers can be, you’ve told me about it.”

“I just want to look cute,” she said.

So, we talked about being cute at sixteen as opposed to being cute at thirty-something, about how teen girls tend to go overboard trying to look “sexy” and that boys are simply dorks and dicks about it.

Finally, I said, “I have to be honest with you, Trouble. I often go braless at home and in casual settings because it’s comfy, I like the look, and because it makes me feel a little naughty. I seriously don’t recommend it at your age, at least, not in public.”

In a few minutes the conversation turned back to school issues, and of course, boys.

Trouble is terribly intelligent as well as clever. I believe she will make good choices about all of the above. 

Rainy Day Play

You may need to click the link twice!

Playing in Photoshop Today

I will try to write up more of my travel adventures soon. In the meantime here is something I created to make some friends smile.