First Summer: Getting Kate to bed

"I don't think Karen would be very pleased with me letting you do that."

She turned her head half in my direction, her bloodshot eyes twisting themselves in their sockets to try to bring me in to focus. Her slurred words are beyond my ability to replicate in type. The best I can do is –

"Sorrrie Karn. I'vve allwayss loved Grreg; I shoodder grabbed him when I coud've. Hees's a good boy. You should marry him," before looking back at Greg and blurting out-

"Karn's a nice girl, you should marry her too"

Given our conversation this morning Greg and I looked each other in the eye and both burst into laughter again; Kate joining in, even if she wasn't quite sure what she was laughing at

To keep his balance Greg had his back on the wall with his feet a short distance off; so he was angled towards Kate's crutch. Even though he had his legs outside Kate's for better balance, I could see Kate had actually tucked her bum in a bit and was pretty sure she had a fairly sensitive part of her body pushed up against Greg's erect shaft. Even before she started laughing I could detect just a bit of subtle movement from her indicating she was still pleasuring herself on him. As she laughed, she snuck in a lot more obvious movement; reminding me vividly of my first day with Greg. Indeed I was almost chuffed by it. I'd thought my sneaking a bit of pleasure from Greg in that way was just the actions of a shy innocent virgin and yet here was a sexual amazon like Kate doing exactly the same.

It was such a contrast with her earlier agitation it was difficult to know how to control it; and Greg was really having trouble knowing what to do with her now overt friskiness. He kept pleading with her that he'd be in trouble with me or shifting subtly to try and get his erection away from her direct contact. But even if she stopped for a bit she'd soon reposition herself and start dry humping him again; telling Greg that "Karn" was a nice girl and wouldn't mind.

I suppose I could have come to Greg's rescue with some firmer words or even by speeding along the washing process. His eyes were certainly asking me to do so. But I didn't. Indeed I think I may even have deliberately taken my time to finish washing her hair. After all, did I really need to put conditioner through it too? Did I really need to take so much time soaping her back? Probably not.

When I dropped the soap I had to bend down to pick it up and as I did so I got a clear look at the base of Greg's erect shaft between Kate's legs, his swimmers moulded closely around it and his balls on either side as Kate subtly moved the base of her mons up and down against it. There flashed into my mind the mental image from my dream of our threesome of Greg's shaft repeatedly penetrating Kate; an image which had continued to be strongly sexually arousing.

Kate eventually brought the whole thing to an end herself as, with a cute little "oooh", she subtly came and finally relaxed her body unmovingly back against Greg.

How did I feel seeing Greg so intimate with Kate? I don't really think jealously came in to it. By now I was comfortable and secure in my relationship with Greg. I trusted him completely and didn't feel threatened by any interaction he had with other girls; although that's not to say he was allowed to go around having girls dry hump him willy nilly. What was happening here was so far out of both our comfort zones that jealously wasn't really part of it and in any case was completely under my supervision. Still, he certainly wasn't allowed to come. For some reason that would have been a whole new level of challenge. But I knew he knew that.

Was I shocked to hear Kate express residual feeling for Greg? Not really; somehow I'd always known that and it was only because she was so drunk that she was willing to be open about them. In the morning she wouldn't even remember acknowledging it. But I also knew that as much as Greg was attached to Kate as a friend, he was painfully aware of her self-destructive tendencies where her love life was concerned and wanted no part of it. Plus, in any case, in a few weeks Greg was coming off to Uni with me and Kate was going elsewhere. I had the monopoly position.

Even so, why did I let it go on – even facilitate it? Of course there was a secret only I knew that also affected how I viewed what was happening. Even before I'd bent down to pick up the dropped soap, the dream I'd had about the threesome between Greg, Kate and myself had been influencing my behaviour. The truth was it had affected my choices as to how we dealt with Kate; Greg was always going to be an assistant as we cleaned her up. I was more than aroused by the sight of the interaction between he and Kate; it brought me to a state of randiness that made me feel on the edge of an orgasm. I felt it would only take the slightest touch, the slightest intimate contact to get me there and it was really hard – it took all the self-control I had - not to give myself that – either by a bit of self-pleasuring or by somehow joining the tangle of bodies in front of me.

There was also a sympathy thing on my part. Kate by now had become a really good friend; perhaps the closest female friend I'd ever had. There was a genuine empathy between us. I suspected Kate had big expectations of the night and she had been nothing if not disappointed. There may have been a sexual build up to the day in her mind that was unfulfilled; which she then took out on Greg. I was so joyously filled with love by my relationship with Greg that it actually pained me to have watched over the last few months how much Kate seemed to get it wrong with guys; picking the wrong ones and knocking back the ones I thought were better prospects for her. Maybe it was my way of sharing some of that feeling of love with Kate; silly as it seemed on reflection after the event.

Turning off the shower, I dried Kate's back as Greg continued to hold her. Then we turned her around, dried her front as best as we could while supporting her under her arms, then walked her out to a softer carpeted area before drying her properly while she sat on the ground.

We offered to dress her in some PJ's but she declined and simply had us help her stumble naked towards her bedroom and the bed within it. Finally getting her clean and in to bed, Greg settled her on her side in the recovery position and covered her with a sheet. After that we could get ourselves back in order; although the lack of any dry undies meant we both had to go commando again - all very well for Greg but you need to remember I had only been wearing a reasonably brief mini-skirt.

Greg was still quite concerned about her. As long as she stayed on her side she was reasonably safe. But if in her sleep she rolled on her back and vomited again, she could drown in her own fluids. Since we didn't really have anything better to do, we decided to leave her bedroom door open and watch some TV at her place hoping her mother would come home soon; resolving that if she wasn't home by around 10 pm we'd use Kate's speed dial to call her and see what was happening.

Of course TV these days is fairly boring, so with no other distractions and a lot of residual randiness from having dealt with Kate we naturally started pashing. Since I was sitting across Greg's lap in a mini-skirt with no undies on, his fingers inevitably and very pleasurably found my crutch. Over the next hour he slowly and gently fingered me to two quite lovely orgasms; mind you after the way the shower had left me the first came pretty quickly and half way through the second I had to turn around on his lap because the fingers of one hand were starting to cramp from over use. I suppose I should have reciprocated for Greg and could certainly feel his erection pushing against my hips. But given Kate's mum might turn up at any moment that was easier said than done. Taking your hand quickly away from a crutch is one thing; being caught shaft exposed or worse still with it inserted in some orifice is quite another – even before allowing for the messiness. Greg as always was quite patient and understanding about that and wasn't really looking for me to do any more for him.

Mind you, we also reflected on what we'd just seen and now Kate was asleep could openly share our respective views on what might have happened to her. Inevitably Greg also wanted to understand how I could stand there and watch Kate dry hump him without wanting to either kill him or tear Kate's eyes out. I wasn't going to give him the whole story, so passed it off as a combination of not wanting to upset Kate after she'd calmed down from her agitated state and a degree of sympathy for what she'd been through – while leaving no doubt it was only my presence and supervision that made the otherwise prohibited permissible on this one occasion.

Kate's mum turned up just before our 10 pm deadline. We explained what had happened to her, gave her my best estimation of what Kate might have or might not have suffered and why I thought that and drew her attention to Kate's clothing and my various concerns about it. After that Greg gave her instructions on how to keep Kate safe. Then we left.

As Greg dropped me home I wondered if I should offer Greg a quickie. After all, he'd spent the last two and a half hours with an unsatisfied boner during which he'd given two different girls three orgasms, so it seemed a little mean just giving him a peck on the cheek and wishing him goodnight even if he had experienced a fairly satisfying morning. As I leaned with my back to his car as he kissed me his arousal was still making itself felt where our bodies were in contact. Without undies there was only the action of a single zipper standing between Greg and me being able to satisfy him and my body was making it clear it was up for it. I took him by the hand, led him to the shadows of the path down to the beach, leaned back against the handrail, undid his zipper and encouraged him take me there and then.

Of course I didn't want to go back in to my family with Greg's cum running down my thighs and there's only so much a towel is guaranteed to get. Fortunately I had planned ahead a bit because frankly walking into the presence of my family going commando while dressed in a mini-skirt is asking for trouble at the best of times. You can't always be sure you'll get a chance to slip in to your room and finish dressing before someone finds a reason you really should sit down and talk to them. So I'd hung my bikini bottoms out to part dry when I'd first taken them off. They were more of a necessity now, even if their dampness caused an initial tendency to walk bow-legged.

Talking to a very hung over Kate the next day we got a bit more of the story. She and Henri had enjoyed a nice enough day at the beach before deciding to retire to a bar for a drink before dinner. Henri had bought them both some sort of fruit based cocktail drink. It was just the right sweetness and just the right fizziness and after a long hot day the first one had gone down without even touching the sides, so he bought them both a second. They'd finished that too and Henri had gone off for another when Kate felt her world start to spin.

Kate was no stranger to a drink and she knew the effect two ought to have even on an empty stomach. As she felt sick and fought off passing out she knew this wasn't it. Realising she'd been slipped something and with no-one to turn to, she exited the bar. Her last clear memory was the thought she needed to find us. That was an hour before she turned up at the pizza place and she didn't have a clue what she did in the interim; but she was fairly sure she'd slipped Henri's trap.

Her mother had given her a pretty good run-down on how we'd washed her and put her to bed; although there were some details we hadn't shared with her mother. She thanked me, but as we talked on she suddenly asked –

"Did I do something inappropriate to Greg while you were washing me?"

I hesitated.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just vague memories that keep coming in to my head."

"You were very drunk, don't worry about it."

I also enquired about her clothes and they had washed up OK.

The one thing Kate could do was try and make sure no one else in town fell for this visitor's trap. So she put the word out on the social network to stay clear of him. Kate may not have been any queen bee as far as other girls were concerned, but they did respect her. It had an interesting follow-up.

One of the locals approached her and disclosed three nights prior to Kate's she too had a run in with Henri; except this time she woke at first light the next morning in his bed, completely naked, her clothes ripped as if they had been removed in a frenzy and with no memory of the night before beyond a couple of pre-dinner drinks. In addition there was a suspiciously placed video camera facing the bed.

The soreness between her legs indicated that not only had she been used, but very likely abused and rope burns and bruising around her wrists and ankles provided fairly compelling evidence of her also at some stage being tied up. Collecting her clothes together as best she could, she snuck still naked out of his room while he slept; only stopping to put on the remnants of her clothes after she was in the corridor.

Like Kate, this girl was her own woman. She was quite happy to graze upon the endless stream of gorgeous male bodies that a surfing town like this attracted over any summer in order to satisfy her own sexual needs. So like with Kate, Henri hadn't needed to have resorted to trickery just to get sex – not to suggest that is ever acceptable.

Rather the point is that Henri obviously had much more deep seated issues. However willing a girl is, she still needs to be drugged, tied up and taken to satisfy whatever fetish might drive him. Kate and the other girl had a serious talk about what to do and whether they could stop him.

The problem was Kate, willing though she was, could not really present any compelling supporting evidence. So the other girl's story had to stand alone and she felt unwilling to expose herself to all the difficulties that reporting a case would bring given that she'd gone out on the date fully expecting it to finish in bed with him.

It wasn't so much that she knew what he did had been criminally wrong, but she also recognised that once she reported it to the police to have any effect it must result in him eventually being found 'beyond reasonable doubt' guilty of having done what she said. If he was stupid enough to have left video evidence lying around that might happen. If not she knew the defence lawyers would use her initial willingness to telling effect in Court. She wasn't willing to be traumatized by the whole thing where the outcome would depend on the chance video evidence existed.

In the end we all prepared, signed, dated and had witnessed by Kate's mum statements of what had occurred in the faint possibility that some other event might occur to back up our stories in the future.

It was only after all the stress of dealing with the more serious issues died down that I had a chance to recognise the strangeness of one other thing. Why had Kate – even in her drunken stupor – raised the issue of Greg and me getting married? I was all loved up with out of control hormones. It was only natural I might think about it. Kate was a free spirited 21 year old. The idea of marriage – for her or anyone else her age – I would have thought would have been anathema. It certainly would have been to me before I meet Greg. She had often commented to me how well Greg and I were suited to each other and how lucky we were and maybe it was her way of saying we shouldn't easily let that go. I never did work it out; but it did simply reinforce my belief that Kate might be hiding an underlying sadness - of something missing - that her happy exterior was masking.

And of course there was that one other thing that continued to bother me. I still found the fact that the mere thought of me watching Kate and Greg make out together was so arousing was deeply disturbing. The fact that I was actually willing to let decisions about how we dealt with Kate be influenced by those thoughts was even more disturbing. Yes I could justify them on logical grounds, but I wasn't entirely sure the logic was driving the decision instead of the temptation of the decision driving the logic. Greg was too precious to me for some silly erotic thought to be permitted to destabilise things and I was sure it wasn't something I really wanted to happen; whether or not I was watching.

I found it hard not to occasionally lapse into being aroused by the mental image at weak moments, but I resolved never again to let my actions be influenced by such temptations.