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Subject: {ASSM} Ethnic Persuasion (Fmmm exhib.)
Date: Mon, 29 Jan 2001 07:10:01 -0500
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THIS STORY IS PROTECTED UNDER THE LAWS OF COPYRIGHT.
ANY REPRODUCTIONS, ALTERATIONS, AND/OR SALES WITHOUT
THE WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR IS STRICTLY
PROHIBITED.

This story is one of a series of stories published to
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/doalfer/www. Please also read the other
ones, preferably in the order in which they are
published (the order in which they are listed on the
site).

Comments are very welcome. Jennifer Doalfer -
doalfer@hotmail.com

ETHNIC PERSUASION
(Fmmm exhib.)

By Jennifer Doalfer
Copyright 2000


I think that this story is borderline to the kind I
ought to be writing, but I am going to do it anyway.
The background for writing this tale is that last
weekend in Copenhagen, a 30-year-old girl was raped by
a group of teenagers (two of them under 15).  Indeed I
should point out that I feel a lot of sympathy with
the poor girl, and that this story in no way suggests
that she provoked the situation.  The reason for
writing this is that I have been intrigued by what
might cause a group of young boys to rape somebody
twice their own age.  The boys were of Pakistani
origin, and even though some racists in Denmark have
suggested that this is in their genes and that it is
their Muslim religion that allows them to treat white
Western girls like this, nobody to whom I have spoken
can understand what made them do it.

Earlier this year we went to a confirmation party in
Jutland where the daughter of a doctor friend of mine
was being confirmed.  Confirmation age in Denmark is
at 14 to 15 years and because it was a joint party
with some other girls, there were many teenagers
present.  The town is in an area that is rather
troubled by second-generation immigrants, but as my
friend is very liberal and tries to help young people
in the community to integrate, there were quite a
number of both boys and girls of different ethnic
backgrounds.  Despite these  'foreign' elements the
party was a great success, but it was obvious that the
ethnic boys particularly, felt estranged.   I didn't
get an opportunity to talk to any of them, but my
friend told me that these boys had trouble dealing
with the girls.  The Danish girls didn't want to have
anything to do with them, and girls of their own
families were 'out of bounds' to them for social
reasons.  They saw the Danish girls dress and act
provocatively and the Danish boys seemingly ignore the
girls.

My friend says that his daughter and her friends stay
away from the boys of other ethnic backgrounds because
they don't want to get into ethnic feuds and because
they feel frightened by the boys' aggressive
behaviour.  This is even though, as part of a normal
school day, they have lots of interests in common and
often would have liked to have a better friendship
with them, especially as some of them are actually
rather good-looking.

Most of the boys of 13 to 14 years that I know are
hardly at the stage of masturbation yet.  Are these
boys of other ethnic backgrounds so much more
developed than our boys, that not only do they have
sexual desires, but desires so strong that they need
to rape somebody?

I don't know what prompted me to think along the lines
of this story.  Actually it is a bit scary; Freud
would probably have a field day, but here it is:


My husband Poul and I had arrived early at the hotel
where the confirmation party was to be held. We had
made sure we could have the rooms early so we could
change from our casual travelling clothes to the suit
and dress that we were to wear to the church.  There
weren't very many rooms in this hotel, which mostly
survived because of the restaurant and ballroom which
appealed to the older generation, and the two-floor
disco which attracted youths all the way from the
major cities more than 50 kilometres away.

I dressed conservatively for the church, reserving my
two "daring" dresses for the evening.  I had brought a
ball gown for the early dancing, and a more daring
outfit for later on in the evening when we intended to
hit the disco.  I was pleased with the conservative
dress, as the congregation in this part of Jutland is
very strict.  Seeing the girls in their confirmation
dresses reminded me of my own confirmation, now almost
20 years ago.  Ouch! 20 years?  Not much had changed
since then; if anything the dresses had become longer
and less revealing.  I remember my father being
shocked at the length of my dress and insisting I wore
a bra, as he complained that everybody could see my
nipples through the material.  That might have been
so, but I think I was the only one there with a bra,
and I felt much more conspicuous like that.  I was
dreaming back to my own youth during the service and
when finally it was over, I was afraid I had actually
fallen asleep. Poul didn't think I had been obviously
sleeping, so I must have only been daydreaming.

When we came back I was aroused and wanted to spend
some time in bed with Poul, but our friend Torsten
asked us to help with setting-up tables and decorating
the room where we were to eat.  There were going to be
almost 80 adults and about as many teenagers, as there
were two girls and a boy (cousins and a cousin once-
removed) from the same family who were to be confirmed
together.  When finally we were back in our rooms we
only had time for a quick nap to gather strength for
the long night ahead.

I am going to skip quickly past the party and the
ballroom dancing, except to say that during the meal I
had already noticed some of Nathalie's (Torsten's
daughter's) friends 'from other ethnic backgrounds'
looking longingly at the provocatively dressed girls.
The girls ignored them, which I found surprising at
the time, because they were quite handsome and
appeared to be much more mature than the other teenage
boys who were just rowdy and horsing around without
taking much notice of the girls.

After the ballroom dancing Poul became caught up in a
discussion with doctors.  When that happens he becomes
very boring.  I decided it was time for my other dress
and went to our room to change.  I hoped that the
sight of the dress would get Poul away from his
friends, but no chance.  If anything he was more drunk
when I returned.  I felt a little peeved, so I went up
to the disco to see if there were any other adult
guests to dance with.  There weren't; there were only
a very few adults.  I presume the music wasn't their
style. The music was hard techno, with laser beams,
smoke and fluorescent lights.  I happen to like
techno; I think it has a good beat and it is easy to
get caught up in the rhythm.  I went to the bar and
had a whisky, but I was no more than half way through
it when one of the boys came over to ask me for a
dance.  I looked at him.  I am not good at judging the
ethnic origin of different people, but if I hadn't
known that they had mainly Pakistani people in this
town, I might have thought that he was Jamaican.  He
had dreadlocks and a small moustache making him look
older than the 15 years he could be at most, if he was
from the same class as Nathalie.

"Sure," I said and smiled at him.  I guessed it must
have been something of a challenge for him to ask, so
I wasn't going to let him down.

I noticed a couple of the adults looking at me.  They
were mostly fathers dancing with their daughters, and
they probably didn't approve of me dancing with one of
'those' boys.  But he danced really well and seemed
quite at ease.

"You are very pretty," he yelled over the music.  He
almost had to shout in my ear, and as he stood close
to me I could detect an unusual odour about him.  Not
unpleasant, rather sensually exotic.  I am not used to
compliments from teenagers, so I just smiled at him.
When he had moved in close he had put his hands on my
hips, and now he kept them there.  I put my hands on
his shoulders and tried to follow his fast, almost
break-dance kind of moves, but I soon ran out of air.

I leant over and yelled in his ear, "Slow down a bit,
this is an old woman you are dancing with."

He just shook his head.  "Not at all, you don't seem
old at all."

He looked down my front and I was suddenly aware that
he was staring at my breasts, which wobbled clearly
under the thin top.  I have never minded flattery, but
it was a bit strange coming from one so young.  He
did, however, slow down.

I was now wearing a silk, silvery top and a skirt.
The skirt was split up the front with rounded edges,
so quite a bit of leg was showing when I stood, and
even more when I sat, as there wasn't enough material
to pull it closed.  The top was made in the same way.
The bottom part rounded under the breasts and cut up
between them. The two pieces of material making up the
front were crossed over my breasts with a narrow band
of fabric over the shoulders crossing the back and
reaching the front pieces again under my arms, leaving
my back naked except for the two straps.   The two
pieces of material covering my breasts were loose and
the silk clung to the shape of them making their
movement very obvious.  I suddenly felt almost naked
under his gaze, but in a funny way it felt good.

As we danced I felt his hands move almost
imperceptibly up my sides.  It was only because I
realised that his hands were now holding onto the bare
part of my sides, between the top and the skirt, that
I noticed.  It felt strange with his hands so close to
my breasts.  I wondered if he was aware how close he
was, but as I felt his thumbs sliding over my stomach
and touching the lower part of my breasts I realised
that he was perfectly well aware of what he was doing.
For a second I felt confused.  Should I stop him?  I
caught myself thinking that the feeling was pleasant,
but then I decided I must have had too much to drink.
We had moved apart a little as the music had dictated
faster movements, but as the song came to an end he
slowed down and pulled me towards him, again moving
his thumbs teasingly along the lower curve of my
breasts.  I was upset with myself when I felt myself
go weak at the knees.  I knew my nipples had hardened
and that I felt moist between my legs; arousal has no
inhibitions.

The music stopped and it was possible to talk for a
short while.  I looked at him with what I believed was
a nice but firm smile.

"You really shouldn't do that, you know," I said, and
felt like a schoolteacher telling a child not to drop
paper on the floor.

"I know," he replied, but not really looking as if he
felt he had done anything wrong.  "It's just that ...
you see, it is so hard.  Look at the girls over there,
all wearing small, tight tops.  Some are even pierced
in the bellybutton.  They like to look provocative,
but they would never let you touch them.  They always
wear bras and they are really so shy if you try
anything with them.  But you look so different.  I
have never danced with anybody who didn't wear a bra,
and where you could see the outline of her breasts so
clearly.  It's just so nice and . . ."

I don't know what he had intended to say for the music
had started again.  I thought about what he had said
as we danced a bit apart.  I could see what he meant
about the girls, but I really hadn't dressed like this
for his benefit, but mostly because Poul likes it, and
I like it when it makes him excited.  The thought that
this boy, about 20 years younger than me, should
become excited from watching me was daunting, and, I
had to admit, quite arousing.

I knew instinctively that the next time he moved in
close he was going to try again and I was prepared to
stop him.  But as I felt his hands on my bare sides, a
shiver went through me and I just didn't feel like
stopping him any more.  I put my hands on his
shoulders knowing that would give him free access to
continue.  I don't know if he took it as the
invitation it was, but it wasn't long before I again
felt his hands, this time not just the thumbs,
stroking the underside of my breasts.  I bit my lip,
telling myself to stop him.  But as I was battling
with myself his hands moved higher and as they brushed
my hardened nipples, I gasped, bit my lip and half
closed my eyes.  I knew very well what signals that
would send, but I suddenly felt like telling him it
was okay.  I pulled him closer, partly to shield the
action from the view of the other dancers and partly
because I needed him closer.  He looked intensely at
me, and I looked back. He had soft big eyes.  As his
hands closed around my full breasts, squeezing them
lightly and finally softly caressing the nipples, I
shook as if a small orgasm had hit me.  It was a long
time since I had felt like this just from being
touched on the breasts.

As far as I was concerned the dance didn't last long
enough.  I felt faint when the music stopped and the
DJ announced he was putting on a tape for the next 20
minutes.  I thought that was a great opportunity to
get away from this before it went too far.

"I am going to get back to the others and see what my
husband is up to," I told him, trying to sound
natural, but I was quivering all over.

"Come along and say hi to my friends first. I want
them to meet you," he said as he dragged me along.

We found them at a table, each with a large glass of
beer.  (This was a closed party, so the bar was
permitted to serve alcohol).  He waved to them as they
looked up.

"This is . . . " he started, but broke off when he
realised he didn't know my name.

"Jenny.  Hi guys," I said with a wave.

"Yes, right.  This is Jenny.  And this, Jenny, is Ib.
He is really Ibrahim, but that's too long and foreign
sounding so Ib is much better.  And that," he pointed
to a rather dark and sullen looking guy, "is Mush.  I
am sure his real name is Mustafa, but he won't respond
to that, so we all call him Mush.  And finally, my
name is Ahmet, and I don't have any problems with
that."

They were staring almost open mouthed at me.  What was
this lady doing with Ahmet holding his hand? Good
question.  I looked at Ahmet.  He was definitely the
most handsome of the lot.  Ib appeared a bit younger
and much shyer than Ahmet.  Mush was more of a
mystery.  He looked too old to be in this group and
where Ib was trying to hide that he was staring at me,
Mush looked me over as though he was undressing me
right there on the spot.  It was chilling.

"Nice meeting you guys, I really have to go now," I
said and waved goodbye.  Ahmet followed me to the door
of the disco.

"Won't you please come back?" he pleaded.

"Let me first see what my husband is doing.  If there
is nothing else to do down there, I might come back,"
I promised, and slipped away from him.  I was aware of
him at the top of the stairs following me with his
eyes.  But as soon as I was down and out of his sight,
I stopped and leaned against the handle of the door to
the ballroom.  I shook my head, disbelievingly.  It
wasn't just that this had happened; it was the fact
that I found myself wanting to go back to him.

I found Poul a good bit more drunk and still in the
middle of the discussion.   He asked me over and
pulled me down on his lap.  I sat quietly listening
for a while, but the discussion might have been
interesting from a professional point of view, but was
certainly not high on entertainment value.

"Poul, why don't you come along up to the disco, it is
much more exciting than this," I said, not really
knowing if I wanted him to come.  But I didn't have to
worry.

"Jenny, you know I hate techno music.  We can hear it
all the way down here.  You go up there and dance with
some of the other people who like that kind of music,
I am quite enjoying myself here," he said, very
determinedly.

"Well, if you are sure . . .  This seems sooo boring.
I don't know how you can be bothered."

"It is really a question of what is less bad.  This
might not be good, but at least we can hear each
other," he said with a laugh.

I gave him a kiss and slipped off again.  I went to
the bar and downed a double whisky before going
upstairs to the disco.  I had no idea what I was
expecting when I got back up there, I just knew I had
felt 20 years younger, and that was certainly a
feeling worth going for again.

I found myself feeling disappointed when I made it
over to their table and didn't find Ahmet.  I looked
around confused, but couldn't see him.  Ib watched me,
and as I was just about to leave he jumped up and
grabbed my arm, holding me back.

"Ahmet had to go and dance with his sister," he
shouted nervously in my ear.  "She said nobody else
would dance with her.  He said that if you came we
should make sure you stayed.".

"OK, I'll wait for him them," I said, relieved and
thankful that Ib had stopped me from going away.

I stood uncertainly and considered what I should do
with myself until he came back.  I couldn't see him on
the dance floor, which was quite dark where the
flashing spots didn't reach.  But then I felt Ib's
hand on my arm.  He said something I couldn't hear,
but he took hold of my arm and led me out onto the
floor.  Well, why not?  At least that beat standing
there waiting.

Ib was about an inch shorter than me; slim, not
unattractive, with a pair of small round spectacles,
making him look like a Jewish scholar.  He was also a
good dancer, flowing with the music when it was slow
and dancing very animatedly when it was fast.  I tried
to keep up with him, but again had to slow down not
being able to keep up to speed.  He saw me slow down
and moved closer placing his hands on my sides.

"We don't have to dance so fast if you are not in
shape for it," he said, looking down my front. I
wondered how much Ahmet had told them about me and
what I had let him do to me.

I didn't answer him, and when his body moved all the
way up in contact with me, brushing lightly against
me, we slowly followed the rhythm at half speed, I
felt his hands slide all the way up my back.  His
touch was light and feathery, barely noticeable, but
it still gave me goose pimples.  As we danced his
hands moved from my bare back to my bare sides, but
never any further towards the front.   It was as
though he was too shy to try and copy Ahmet.  As he
kept looking at my front I became more and more sure
that they had talked about me, but that Ib didn't dare
to try going for my breasts.  I found it more amusing
than arousing; it was kind of nice to have that effect
on these young boys.

When the dance ended I looked around for Ahmet and
finally noticed him with a very pretty girl, looking
very much like him, obviously his sister.  He hadn't
seen me, and it appeared that his sister wanted him to
dance the next one with him as well, and as Ib didn't
make any move to go back to his table, we just
continued with the next dance.

I led Ib slowly towards one of the darker edges of the
dance floor, as far away from Ahmet as I could get.  I
looked around, and satisfied that we were fairly
unnoticed, I put my hands on Ib's shoulders repeating
the invitation, which Ahmet had accepted immediately.
Why not let Ib have a go as well?  But he did not take
the bait.  He kept running his hands up and down my
bare back, never daring to make the move.

This was rather frustrating.  I moved my hands down
his arms holding on to his elbows, pushing them away
from me.  His hands left my back and were now loosely
touching my bare stomach.  I squeezed my arms
together, feeling his hands on the outside curve of my
breasts.  I looked at him.  Finally I let my hands run
from his elbows to his hands guiding them up under my
top, making sure he was keeping them there before I
again put my hands on his shoulders.  He must have
been in doubt as to whether he was really reading the
signs correctly, but once I put his hands on my bare
breasts, he could be in no doubt any longer.

It was as if he went wild.  He was grabbing,
squeezing, massaging my breasts and rolling my
nipples, which had become hard again, telling me that
it wasn't just amusing any more but also arousing.  My
arousal was increased by the fact that he had no
consideration for the fact that I had wanted to hide
the movements of his hands.  But he obviously wanted
to look at what he was doing, probably never having
seen a 'live' pair of breasts so close before.  The
result of this was that he had my top split open,
baring my breasts while he openly caressed them.  I
was very conscious of this, but I was also afraid of
scarring him off, now that he had finally found the
nerve.  So I just tried to position ourselves so we
were not in the main spotlight, hoping that nobody
would notice.   Ib seemed completely lost; he just
rested his forehead on my shoulder, looking down my
front.  As the song came to and end I pulled him
close, lifted his head and gave him a quick but wet
and soft kiss.  He kissed right back, squeezing me
tightly.  I had to use force to break free, as I
didn't think it appropriate that we should stand on
the dance floor kissing after the music had stopped.
It was only after he had moved away a little that I
realised how big and hard his dick had felt against
me.  I looked down - couldn't help it.  He had on big
loose Adidas skater sweat pants (a big deal these
days, especially amongst the foreign-looking boys).  I
doubted that he wore anything under them. There
certainly was nothing to restrain his erection, which
stood out like a tent.  He looked embarrassed.

"You don't know how much of a compliment that is," I
said, truthfully.

I wanted rip the trousers off him and see what that
thing really looked like.

He put a hand deep into his pocket trying to keep it
down while he led me back to the table.  Ahmet was
there, now talking to Mush.  He looked up when he saw
me.

"Oh, you came back! I am so pleased.  Then I don't
have to dance with my sister any more."  He
practically pulled me up.  "Please, let's go and dance
again."

The next song had already started.  Had I wanted to
object, he wouldn't have heard.  But I didn't.  The
encounter with Ib had got me really aroused, and very
frustrated.  I couldn't wait to feel Ahmet's hands on
me again.

I didn't need to direct him to a dark corner; he was
already headed there.  This time there was no
hesitation.  As soon as we were dancing against each
other, his hands crept up under my top and grabbed my
breasts.  I felt faint.  I took his head in my hands
and kissed him.  I had intended  it to be only a light
kiss to let him know I liked his touch. But as soon as
I felt his tongue against mine, I realised that he was
no novice when it came to kissing.  He let go of one
breast and used the hand to grab my bum and pull me
tightly against him.  He also had on loose trousers
and before long his erection was even larger than
Ib's.  I moved my hands from his head and down his
sides.  I slid myself sideways so I could get a hand
to his trousers, feeling the hard dick through the
material.  So young, so hard.  I looked down myself
and saw he had my top parted all the way up the front;
he was staring at my naked breasts. Oh God, let him
watch.  I really wanted him to see what a pair of
'real' breasts looked like.  Not like the pointed
cones of a teenage girl, but soft, rounded, full
breasts with pointed, hard nipples.  He was breathing
heavily, not least because of my hand movements
against his dick.  I really wanted to dig my hand down
his trousers, but I thought we had already gone far
enough here on the dance floor.  I suddenly thought of
what would happen if Poul should come along and see
this spectacle, or if any of our friends should happen
to brave the techno music and come up here.

When the music stopped I pulled away from him.  The
top fell back down covering my breasts.  Ahmet looked
at me like a child who had just lost his favourite
toy.

"Ahmet, please, we can't do that here.  It is too
obvious.  I like it very much, I really do . . .  but
let's stop now."

"I don't want to stop.  I never want this evening to
stop," he replied.  "Please don't go. Come and sit
with us for a while.  I'll get you a drink."

When we were back at the table, I sat while he went
for another double whisky for me.

"I thought Muslims weren't supposed to drink," I said
to Ib, who was clutching his glass of beer.

"There are different kinds of Muslims," he replied.

"Also, our parents have been here for a long time,
added Mush.  "We don't actually stick to very many of
the Muslim rules any more, but people don't see that.
They keep thinking of us as the kind of Muslims they
hear about from Iran."  He had a deep voice, and
seemed bitter, tired of being an outsider, rejected
because of people's prejudices.

Fortunately Ahmet returned with my drinks, because I
wasn't sure it was a good idea to start a religious
discussion at this point.

"Cheers to beautiful Jenny," Ahmet toasted.  "Don't
you think she is nice?"  He sounded as if he owned me
and was showing off his new car.

He leant over against me and whispered in my ear.
"They are just so envious that they haven't seen your
breasts.  I told them about our conversation about the
other Danish girls, and they all agreed that it was
useless to try anything with them."

He turned around and looked at the dance floor.  It
was almost full.  Lots of the girls danced with each
other because the guys were either getting too drunk
or they were too shy.  Theoretically they should have
been happy to dance with these boys, but they never
would, I could see that now.

"I once tried to touch one of those girl's breasts,
and she kicked me in the groin," he said.  "They're
not like you. It is obvious that you like it as much
as I do.  And you are so much more beautiful than they
are."

He looked down my front.  The top had parted a little,
making the lower part of one breast visible.  I just
looked at it.  I knew that when he said I was
beautiful it was my breasts he was referring to.  I
don't think he was thinking about my face, which was
obviously so much older than the other girls'.  But I
was proud of my breasts; so proud that when he reached
over and pulled the material further aside baring the
whole breast I did nothing to stop him.  The way he
was sitting, he was shielding me from the sight of the
dancers on the floor.  He leant over as if to whisper
something, but gave me a quick kiss on the cheek
instead. I moved my face, turning my mouth to his, and
soon we were continuing the kiss we had started on the
dance floor. I felt the material being pushed away
from my other breast as well.  Nobody was touching
them; I knew they were just staring.  I sank a bit
further down in the seat trying to hide behind Ahmet.
He stopped kissing me and put a finger lightly on a
nipple, playing with it.  I was hit by another small
contraction.

I knew I was becoming very wet and very, very aroused,
but I was now drunk enough not to care.  I dug a hand
into Ahmet's trousers.  He gasped, clearly audible to
me over the sound of the music as I gripped his hot,
hard and moist dick.  I looked at Ib who was staring
at me.  Without taking his eyes from mine, he put a
hand on my other breast and mimicked Ahmet's movement.
I guess he wanted me to put a hand down his trousers
too.  I was about to do that when Mush leaned over
Ib's legs and in one quick movement, ran a hand up my
leg, right up to my small thin and very wet panties .
I was about to jump up but realised I was too exposed
to make too much of a reaction, or I wouldn't be
shielded by Ahmet's back.  Before that thought had
finished, he had moved aside the material of my
panties and had a finger inside me. I bucked
involuntarily.  With both Ahmet and Ib's hands on my
breasts, I was held back long enough for Mush's
fingers to have found my clit.  This was more than I
had bargained for.  It had been fun to play with these
boys, but I didn't really want things to go this far,
but it was so pleasant.  Ahmet kissed me again, his
fingers never leaving my breasts, and Mush had
definitely tried this before.  It was a good thing
that these boys were so unpopular that nobody wanted
to sit with us, because now I was just writhing about
on the seat knowing that if this continued much
longer, I was going to come in the arms of three
teenagers, to the beat of heavy techno and flashing
laser lights; not a sight for innocent young teenagers
at a confirmation party.

"No!" I managed to yell as I felt the onset of an
orgasm.  I sat up, broke free of their hands and
pushed my legs together, while pushing Mush's hand
away.

"I know I led you into this," I said firmly, "I am
sorry, but we can't do that here, it's got to stop
here and now."

I hurriedly pulled the top back down and looked
around.  But it was dark where we sat, and nobody
showed the least interest.

"I know you wanted it," Mush said in a hurt voice.  "I
could feel how wet you were.  I could feel your
vibrations; don't tell me you didn't want it,"

I looked at them.  What had I done to these boys?
Leading them this far and seeing they had themselves
admitted how frustrated they were.

"I can't deny that Mush, but this is wrong.  We can't
be doing this," I said, just as much trying to
convince myself as them.

"What do you expect from us, Lady?" Mush demanded.
"You come here and say you understand us.  You let
Ahmet and Ib play with you.  You happily let us sit
here and get fired-up from watching your naked
breasts, and you act as if you enjoy it.  Let me call
your bluff Lady.  You said we can't do that here. Does
that mean we can do it somewhere else?"

I looked at him.  Did it?  How far would I let them go
if we had been alone?   As excited as I was before,
probably the whole way.  I know that sounds terrible.

"I honestly don't know," was all I could say at this
point.

"Well, look over there.  Can you see that door?"  He
pointed to an opening in a sliding wall at the end of
the dance floor closest to where we sat.

I nodded. Yes I could see it, so what?

"In behind there is the other half of this disco.
They don't use it for smaller parties like this.  But
in there nobody would be able to see us.  If you
really meant that it was only because we couldn't do
it here, then we can do it in there.  Or, maybe you
were just stringing us along, just like a teenager,
trying to see how far they can go, and then suddenly
kicking us in the crotch."

I looked at Ahmet and Ib.  They almost looked
embarrassed, but there was also something pleading in
their expressions.  I just looked at them.

Mush jumped up.  "Come on guys," he said, as he made
to leave.

"We're going in there now," he told me.  "I think we
all would very much like you to join us, but if you
are just a big tease then forget about it and go down
to the other old folks.  We can live with that.  We
are used to that after all."

He turned and left.  Ahmet kept looking back at me as
if to see if I was coming.  But I just sat there as if
in a trance.  Finally he turned and left and joined
the others through the door.

What should I do?

I went to the bar for another drink, but made it only
a single because I was feeling the effect of the
previous drinks.  I sat at the bar, looking out at the
dance floor.  It was packed with young people.  I
couldn't see one single person my age any more.  What
was it I was doing?  As I kept looking at all the
young dancers, the answer suddenly popped into my
head.  Perhaps what I was doing was taking possibly
the last chance of my life to act as if I were a
teenager again.  I so much wanted to be part of this
crowd once more.  The fact that this group of
youngsters, due to their own frustration with Danish
girls, was hitting on me, was my chance of re-
experiencing the rush and excitement of sex as a
teenager.  Was I going to let myself miss that
opportunity?  Hell no!

I made for the door, which was halfway behind the
stage.  As I reached the stage I turned to see if
anybody was watching me disappearing into the empty
corner.  Nobody paid the least attention to me, which,
for a change, was good, and I made it through the door
unnoticed.  On the other side of the door was the
other part of the stage and only as I cleared it did I
see the three boys sitting in an area with a sofa like
the one we had just been on.  The music was still loud
through the wall and the disco lights were on at this
side as well.  It seemed strange with the flashing
lights and music but no dancers.

Ahmet jumped up and hurried over to me.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," he exclaimed.
"Don't worry about Mush, he is always this rough.  It
is because of earlier experiences in his life, which
have been rather hard  on him.  I am so pleased you
are here.  I just want to dance with you, where we
don't have to worry about what other people think."
He spoke quickly as if he was very nervous.

He must have been because he danced a good distance
away from me.  That was getting us nowhere, so I
pulled him close to me and put my arms behind his head
guiding his mouth to meet mine.  It seemed he was
relieved I was willing to continue along those lines
for he eagerly returned my kiss.  I had felt a bit
self-conscious on the empty dance floor, but now the
kissing was getting me excited again and I soon forgot
the circumstances.

On this side of the wall we could talk.

"Jenny, I don't know why you are willing to spend the
evening with us, but I really enjoy being with you.  I
would never have thought that a girl like you would
let boys like us touch you like we did, or let us see
your breasts.  That was so fantastic."

He had pulled a bit away from me and was looking down
my front again.  As he looked I took my hands from his
shoulders and used them to part my top, baring my
breasts.  I knew what that would do to him, and I
wanted to feel his hard dick against me, now that we
didn't have to be concerned with other dancers looking
at us.

"Would you take it all the way off?" he asked without
touching me, just staring at me.

I had never danced topless at a discotheque, but the
thought was exciting.

"You take it off then," I suggested.  That was an
offer he didn't have to consider for long, and soon he
had the top off and flung it over to Ib who caught it
and put on the table.

I felt as though I was on drugs.  The feelings were so
intense.  The music, the lights, the effect of the
alcohol, the boys looking at me, my nipples exploding
under Ahmet's stare.  I pulled him close and kissed
him hard again.  His hands were playfully avoiding
direct contact with my breasts; he seemed to be happy
watching them and knowing that he could hold them any
time he liked.  Meanwhile I was growing extremely
frustrated and aroused.   Just when I felt he was
ready to stop playing and get on to serious business,
the music stopped and the DJ announced a ten-minute
break.  We stopped and looked disappointedly at each
other.

"Oh, well, let's go and sit down then," I said,
shrugging.

Making my way on to the sofa, I was very much aware of
the boys' eyes on my bare breasts.

Seating myself between Ahmet and Ib, I stretched a
hand out to retrieve my top, but Mush pushed it out of
my reach.

"Oh, no.  Not yet Lady."  He smiled.  I found it quite
annoying that he kept calling me Lady.

I sat back in the sofa.  Ahmet offered me a fresh beer
he had brought along.  I drained half the bottle and
leant up against Ahmet.  He looked down at me, kissed
me and cupped one of my breasts.  It wasn't long
before I forgot the situation and only enjoyed his
kiss and caresses.  I was aware that Ib had joined the
game when I felt his mouth on my other breast.  I was
surprised that he had thought of that, but realised
that he probably had wanted to kiss me, but not been
able to because of Ahmet.  As it was, his mouth was
very active on my breast.  He sucked hard on my
nipple, the sensation being in the grey zone between
pleasure and pain.

I stopped kissing Ahmet and watched Ib holding on to
the breast, licking it and apparently forgetting all
about the fact that he could now have kissed me.  I
would readily have let him.  I wanted him up closer to
me so I could slip a hand down his trousers.  But he
seemed to be obsessed with my breasts.  However, he
had a hand on my knee, as if he was building up
courage to move it up between my legs.  I spread them
some more, hoping that would encourage him.

Instead it was Mush who reacted.  He stood up in front
of me, looking down at me.  I can't say I was
frightened, but apprehensive might be appropriate.  As
I was looking at him, Ahmet put a hand on my other
knee and pulled it towards him.  My skirt split open
all the way up to my panties, which were soaking wet
and had dug themselves into my pussy.  Despite my
earlier decision, I now felt that perhaps this was
really going too far.  I tried to close my legs, but
both Ib and Ahmet forcefully kept them open long
enough for Mush to move all the way in between them.

Ahmet's hand moved up between my legs, but I hardly
noticed because Mush had pulled his T-shirt over his
head.  He had big red scars down the one side of his
chest.  I couldn't imagine what could have caused
them.  I leant all the way back in the sofa again as
Ahmet's fingers moved my panties to one side and
slipped a finger into me.  I must have let out a
sound, because Ib looked up at me, and seeing Ahmet
wasn't kissing me any more, he took over.

"Ib, help get the panties off," Mush instructed before
Ib had hardly got started on a wet tongue kiss. Mush
moved back a bit, so I could close my legs long enough
for Ib and Ahmet together to pull my panties down and
off.

"The skirt as well. I want her naked," Mush
instructed.

I was a bit surprised that they seemed to obey him to
such an extent. It wasn't until Ahmet had undone the
strap of the skirt and pulled it out from under me
that I realised I was now completely naked in front of
Mush.  Ahmet and Ib were running their hands up and
down the inside of my legs, pulling them apart, as if
offering me to their friend Mush.

Ahmet tried to kiss me, but I shook my head; I wanted
to look at Mush.  I think he knew that.  He slowly and
provocatively untied his trousers and slid them down.
He wasn't wearing any underpants either.  His dick was
long, rather thin and bent upwards like a banana.  He
knelt between my legs, bent his dick down to my
opening and with a quick hard thrust, entered me all
the way.  Fortunately I was wet, because he certainly
spent no time on foreplay.  I felt strangely abused,
as if I was being raped.  My legs were being held
apart and this guy was just ramming into me, with no
considerations for my feelings.  However, soon his
speed affected me and I started to move almost
involuntarily to meet his hard thrusts.  I was
wondering how long he could keep up this incredible
speed.

I was feeling the beginning of an orgasm coming, when
he suddenly slowed down and stopped.  He looked down
at me, as if only now he realised who he was fucking
(the only way to describe what he was doing to me - he
certainly wasn't making love).

He kept staring at me,  disbelievingly.  Then he
carefully took my arms and pulled me up against him.
I crossed my legs behind him, making sure he stayed
inside me.  I could still feel the small vibrations of
an orgasm lurking.  I was surprised when he lifted up
my head for a kiss.  His lips slowly met mine.  It was
a hesitant kiss, as if he had never kissed before.
Maybe he was just used to raping girls?  I eagerly
returned his kiss.  When my tongue went searching for
his, he first didn't react, but then he caught on.
After a while he stopped and pulled his head back so
he could watch me.

"I am sorry," he said, as if he really meant it. "I
couldn't help it, I just felt this rush coming and I
had to have you.  Then when it seemed like you started
to like it, it felt very different.  I should treat
you nicer than that.  Please forgive me."

"OK, I don't know how you used to make love to girls.
But it felt good.  I don't want you to stop now," I
almost begged him.  I kept using my legs to squeeze
him against me in a rocking motion keeping up the
sensation.  I could clearly feel his bent dick inside
me.

He looked at me in surprise.

"Come, I will show you something."

He moved so quickly I couldn't hold him back.  He
stood up and gripping my arms again he pulled me up to
him.  I didn't know what he wanted to do.  He led me
to the end of the sofa and around the back and asked
me to sit on it.  He spread my legs and as
unceremoniously as before he quickly entered me.  But
as soon as he was inside me, he took my arms and
holding them he slowly pushed me back. When I was
about to fall backward onto the seat of the sofa,
almost on top of Ib and Ahmet, Mush slowly lowered me
down so my shoulders and head rested on the seat of
the couch.  I am not an acrobat, so I couldn't arch my
back very much.  My legs went up in the air, where
Mush caught them and held them under his arms.  When
he was sure I was comfortable he started his high
speed thrusting again.  I had never thought of making
love in such a position, but it was incredible.  His
hard bent dick kept pounding right onto my G-spot.  Ib
had bent down and was kissing my nipples.  Ahmet had
realised he had free access to my clit, so while Mush
was pounding his dick into me, Ahmet was playing with
my clit just half an inch away.  No way could I last
long under a treatment like that.  In no more than a
couple of minutes I found myself screaming.  I really
let go, knowing that I couldn't be heard over the
sound of the music, which had re-started.

I don't know what I yelled, but it seemed to excite
the boys so that they increased their efforts.  Soon a
gigantic orgasm hit me.  I was bucking as if trying to
shake them off; the feeling was almost too intense.
They didn't stop and I had no means of stopping them
either.  Mush kept going at the same speed, keeping my
orgasm at peak level for what seemed a long time.
Then, abruptly he withdrew.  I looked up and saw him
holding his dick and with a few finishing strokes he
came in gigantic jets of semen.  The first shot landed
on my chin, slowly rolling towards my lips. He was
still holding on to my legs as he shook and kept
spraying all over my breasts and stomach.  When he
finally relaxed he looked lovingly at me as I licked
his semen, which had now trickled into my mouth.  He
kissed my feet and ran a tongue down the inside of my
legs all the way to my pussy which he just touched
with a short kiss before he slowly eased me down onto
the sofa.  I watched him walk around to the chair
opposite the sofa, where he just sat and watched me.
His hard indifferent look had disappeared; he just
kept staring at me with big eyes almost as if in love.

I was still thinking about the changes in Mush's
attitude when Ahmet helped me turn around and pulled
me up against him.  He was sitting up against the
corner of the sofa with his legs spread wide open and
soon I had snuggled my back against him, feeling his
hard dick clearly through his trousers.  He had his
arms around me, one hand on one of my breasts still
dripping wet from Mush's come, the other between my
legs.  I spread my legs as far apart as I could,
knowing that Ib was staring at another stream of semen
making its way towards my pussy.  I don't know what
sign Ahmet made behind my back, but it was obvious
that Ib got the go-ahead in one way or another.  He
had been shy and reluctant to take an initiative, but
now he quickly removed his T-shirt and pulled down his
trousers.  He looked very young as he stood there,
with hardly any hair on his body except a bit of curly
pubic hair.  His dick was thin, not particularly big,
but with a large shiny head already wet with his own
juices.  He lowered himself down towards me, trying to
position himself on the sofa in a way where he could
enter me.  But it wasn't easy in the position I was
in.

I was looking up at him and his efforts in
anticipation, but not really being able to help him
when his dick suddenly went limp.  He looked down at
himself, and tried desperately to stroke it to
stiffness again.  Ahmet said something to him, which I
didn't understand and Ib blushed so much it was easy
to see it against his dark skin even in the subdued
reflection from the discotheque lights.  He looked
apologetically at me, starting to climb off the sofa.
I broke free of Ahmet's embrace and put a hand out
stopping Ib.  He was standing at the side of the sofa
looking down at me with such a look of disappointment
on his face it would have been funny if it hadn't been
for the seriousness of the situation.  I sat up on the
sofa, my face now only a foot away from his still
flaccid penis.  I looked up at him as I took it in my
hand and slowly stroked it.  I thought I felt it
hardening a little.  He had a look on his face as if
he didn't think it was worth the effort, but that he
was just obliging me.

"I want you hard again, Ib," I said, trying to make
him feel wanted  "I was looking forward to feeling
you inside me."

"I don't know what happened. I wanted to so much."  He
was almost crying.

"Don't worry," I reassured him.  "This is not the
first time I have seen this happen to a guy.  It is
the fear of failure.  But don't worry about it, it
really is all right".

I licked the head of his penis.  It was indeed waking
up again.  I took it in my mouth, holding tight at its
root, almost forcing it hard.  I clearly heard his
gasp.  It was growing quickly.  I took it out of my
mouth and looked at it.  I stroked it and as soon as
it was hard enough I started to work on it.  I looked
up at him again.  His eyes were closed, his head bent
back.  All of a sudden he jerked and leaned forward as
he sent a stream of semen all over my face.  I had
hardly started yet!   He must have been extremely
excited. I licked the semen off my lips.  It felt hot
against my tongue.  I kept stroking him lightly until
he had finished ejaculating.  I wiped my face.  I
looked at him again.   Now he looked even more
embarrassed if that were possible.  I squeezed the
last drops out of him and I smiled at him, making sure
he got the message that that I found him spraying at
my face very erotic.

"Don't say you couldn't," I said to him.

"But it was too quick," he almost cried.

"At least you came. Next time you won't be so
excited."

I didn't see his reaction to that.  I turned around to
Ahmet and pushed his legs together to sit across his
lap.  I pulled off his T-shirt while I was riding on
his hard dick through his trousers.  His fingers
quickly found my nipples again.  I don't know what his
trousers would look like with all my juices spread
over the front of them.  I vaguely thought about it,
but didn't really care.   What I did care about was my
wish to feel his cock deep inside me rather than just
sensing it through the material of his pants.  I bent
down over him and kissed his nipples and then slowly
ran a tongue down his chest, over his hard stomach
towards his groin.  I slowly pulled down his trousers,
until I could see first his very curly pubic hair,
then the base of his dick.  When finally it cleared
the top of his trousers, it jumped right up into my
face.  I stared at it; it seemed like the hardest dick
I had ever seen.  The veins stood out as if under high
pressure.  It was long and slick with an incredible
head.  The helmet was very prominent, making it look
almost like a mushroom. I had wanted to lick it but
now I couldn't wait to get it inside me.  I climbed up
on top of him again, slowly lowering myself down unto
it.  I prefer sitting on top of a guy.  Then I can
move in the way which suits me and I know that the guy
has a good view of me from that position.  I love it
when the guys look up at me from down there.  I let
them see how I play with my own nipples or how my
breasts bounce when I ride up and down.  This time
though, I had no time for that.  Feeling his long,
hard dick entering me had me forgetting all about the
view I was offering to Ahmet.  I could so clearly feel
it all the way in, actually hitting my cervix, which
is another feeling I like.  Enjoying the feeling of
Ahmet's dick moving inside me, I took loooong slow
thrusts at first, but as Ahmet became more excited and
started to move along, I couldn't go slowly any more,
and soon I was riding him wildly.

It wasn't long before I could feel that warm rush
signalling an oncoming orgasm. I leant back, resting
my hands on my heels as I slid back and forth riding
my clit on Ahmet's pelvic bone, all the time feeling
that large head moving inside me.  As I felt the first
small spasms hitting me, I felt Ahmet going mad,
almost throwing me off.  He certainly threw me off my
rhythm.  I stopped, hovering half a prick's length
over him, watching in fascination as he spasmed;
arching up and riding out his orgasm against me.  It
was a funny detached feeling, sitting still above him,
watching him as his last strong thrusts brought him
over the top.  I slowly lowered myself on him when he
was finally still.  I rubbed around a little, feeling
his semen flow out of me.  So close to my own climax
and still so aroused, I bent down and we kissed as I
lifted myself off him, feeling his now soft dick
sliding out of me.

Then I felt a hand on my upturned bum.  I looked
around, and saw Ib positioning himself on his knees
behind me.  I tried to turn around completely so I
could see what he was doing, but I couldn't.  It
didn't matter because I soon felt him up against me,
sliding his now hard dick into me.  I felt a shudder
go through me.  God, he was so young.  This was so
wrong, but I couldn't stop now.  He grabbed my hips
and started to move hard against me.  Ahmet tried to
catch my nipples, but my breasts were being flung
wildly back and forth by Ib's very energetic
movements.  I forgot all about his age when I felt the
excitement grow . He might not have had the biggest
dick, but I believe he had the fastest movements I
have ever experienced.  It wasn't long before I felt
the first small contractions again.  I felt flushed;
Ahmet had managed to catch my nipples and was rolling
them between his fingers, a sensation which I knew
would bring me to a climax very quickly.  Certainly my
climax soon started in earnest, but it only built
slowly.  I flung myself down on Ahmet's chest, pushing
my bum in the air, trying to find a position where I
could speed up the frustratingly slow feeling of the
mounting orgasm.  I was afraid that Ib was going to
come before me again, but I needn't have worried.  Not
only did he finally bring me to an explosive climax,
but he didn't stop.  When my contractions had stopped,
I realised he was still going.  I got up on my arms,
slowly bringing myself to an almost upright position.
Ahmet moved up with me, kissing me, playing with my
breasts.  I could feel the next orgasm coming.  I
could also hear that Ib was just about to come. I took
Ahmet's hand and placed his fingers on my clit rubbing
them against it.  Ib exploded behind me with a couple
of violent thrusts that almost pushed me over.  I
grabbed the back of the couch, letting go of Ahmet's
hand.  However, his fingers didn't stop, and soon he
had me way into the next orgasm.

"Don't stop," I yelled at him.  I could still feel Ib
slowly moving in and out, obviously not wanted to slip
out of me right now.  The next orgasm shook me so hard
that I almost pushed Ib away.  He caught my shoulders,
and pulled me up against him.  The move made his soft
dick flop out, but it also gave him an opportunity to
grab my breasts.  He kissed my neck as my orgasm died
down and I stopped shaking.

I turned sideways and slid down to a sitting position,
watching the guys.  I think I was a little in love
with all of them.  They appeared to be such strong
personalities.  Dark, different and exciting.  I had a
sudden picture in my mind of what this would have been
like if they had been ordinary Danish guys.  I just
couldn't imagine that.  Ib sat down next to me.  We
all looked at each other as if we couldn't believe
this had just happened.  Mush stood up and came over
to me.  He bent down to me, put a hand under my chin
and brought up my face for a short warm and tender
kiss.

"I will never forget this," he said with a smile.

He then found my skirt and top and helped me dress.
The other two boys just sat there staring, as if not
wanting to take their eyes off me.  When I was dressed
I stood back a bit and looked at them.  They were all
still naked.  They looked so handsome; young,
muscular, fit and exotic.  They didn't make any
attempt to move.  I looked at my watch and got a
fright; it was very late.  Poul would be looking for
me.  I looked at the guys again.

"I have to get back," I said.  "Thanks for making me
feel so wanted and young again."

I didn't want an answer.  I ran across the empty dance
floor to the stage door and peeked out.  I couldn't
see Poul and the dance floor was still quite busy, so
I easily slipped unnoticed over to the bar, where I
sat trying to look as if I had just come off the dance
floor.  I ordered a drink, and was only a few minutes
into it when I discovered Poul trying to cross the
dance floor towards me.  He was obviously very drunk.
I ran over to him.

"Poul what are you doing?  What a state you are in,
you are drunk as a skunk."  Attack was the best
defence.  He never asked where I had been for so long.
"We have to get you to our room right now".

"Uhm, maybe that would be a good idea.  But I wanted
to have a dance with you.  You look so lovely in that
dress."

"I know," I said honestly, knowing somebody who even
thought I looked lovely without it.

I managed to get Poul back, but practically had to
undress him.  He went out like a light and I had a hot
bath, cleaning the sperm of three guys off me,
thinking about how lucky I had been that Poul was so
drunk.  Had he wanted to take me to bed as well, he
might not have missed how dripping wet I was, and how
many stains of dried semen I had all over me, even
some in my hair.

Lying back in the hot bath I relived the night.  A
thing I would do many times over the coming weeks.

The end

-- 
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