Andrew Laird - Young girl sex club

"Kalola Kalikimaka I've heard of," Teo admitted, "but who is this Lynn Charles chick?"

"You never heard of Lynn Charles?" Wikiwiki was shocked. "Boy, you guys who stay all of your life on Maui are sure provincial and dumb. Listen to this: less than a month ago, the Pacific Paradise Hotel on Oahu was about to go to the wall. It was in pretty near as bad shape as this one. This Lynn Charles organized a luau that was the damnedest whingding Hawaii has seen this century. The publicity put the old Pacific Paradise back on its feet and took it out of the red. If you don't believe me, you can ask Joe Moto, the owner. And you say you never heard of Lynn Charles. Brother!"

Teo scratched his head. "So what?"

"It's simple," Wikiwiki said. "You're screwing the wife of the man in the personnel office. You get this information to her and she relays it to her husband. He wants to keep his job, just like all of us do, so he goes to Elmer with it. Elmer knows he has to do something, and do it fast. He'll grab at the chance. What he should do is make Lynn the new social director and build a regular night club-type act around Kalola. With those two kids working for him, this place will come to life. Will you do it, Teo?"

"I don't know," Teo muttered. "Remember the time you talked me into helping you start a whore-house in the old sugar mill building with all junior high school girls? We're lucky we didn't land in jail on that one."

"Aw, this is different. We were just kids then. How about your own job here? Don't you want to keep it?"

"Well…"

The hotel's personnel manager considered his wife a smart woman. He never questioned how she always seemed to know more about what went on concerning his own job than he did. He lost no time in going to Elmer McFarthingale with the news.

"Sounds great," Elmer agreed, "but what am I to do about Evangeline? You know she'd never stand for a hula dancer, and I imagine this Lynn Charles is quite ah… er… modern in her approach to publicity."

"You have to decide between Evangeline and your job… all of our jobs."

"I suppose so," Elmer agreed doubtfully. "I love her, but her father will shut this place down if some changes aren't made, and soon. If only there was something I could do about that Matthew Longworth character. She was a great girl before he came into her life."

"I know," the personnel manager agree unhappily.

These two men were worthy fellows, but they lacked Wikiwiki's pragmatic approach to life. The beach boy was not content with merely planting the seed of an idea in Teo's head, to be warmed in the bed of his lady love, the wife of the personnel manager, and then timidly bloom in the office of the hotel manager, Elmer McFarthingale. No, Wikiwiki was well aware that Evangeline, and her spiritual mentor, Matthew Longworth, were the grit in the fine cogs and rollers of progress and he meant to do something about them. His first move was to call on Ellen Canfield.

"Honey," he said to her, "how would you like to suddenly get religion?"

She looked at him to see if he was kidding, then shook her head. "Nope. Nothing doing. I don't have time for all that church going. I'm a busy girl. It's all I can do now to take care of my job in the kitchen, get myself laid six or seven times every day and then still have a few hours left for tripping on pot or LSD. While you're here, let's fuck."

"Not now. This is serious. You don't really have to get religion… just pretend to. Now here's what I want you to do. First chance you get, you…"

After a serious consultation with Lynn and Kalola on the subject of what she should wear, it was decided that Ellen should don one of Lynn's knit dresses… with nothing under it but her own vibrant, young body.

"You got big tits," Kalola declared. "No use strapping 'em down. Men like a bouncy girl."

"You sure you know what to say now?" Lynn asked, her expression that of an anxious mother about to attend her daughter's first performance in a school play.

"Sure," Ellen replied casually. "Wikiwiki coached me."

The Reverend Matthew Longworth evidenced his surprise when he answered Ellen's timid knock at his door. He listened sympathetically but somewhat absentmindedly as she explained that she was in need of spiritual guidance and wondered if he could spare a few minutes of his valuable time to make certain matters of moral significance clear to her.

"Of course, my dear. Do come in and be seated," he invited her. She had unwittingly picked a most auspicious time for the interview. He had just returned from a session with Evangeline and had not yet had time to masturbate, so he was in a highly excited condition that her lovely face and sensuous body did nothing to dispel. He watched her wiggle and bounce across the room, sit on the edge of his bed and cross her legs in such a way that the maximum area of bare flesh was revealed. She regarded him with wide-eyed innocence, but answered a prompting question with unexpected frankness.

"I wouldn't dream of telling this to anyone else," she told him, "but you being a minister and all… well, I guess you must hear all kinds of things… like a doctor. My problem is sin. I'm just not sure what is sinful and what isn't. I mean, everyone seems to have different ideas about sin and I don't see how I'm supposed to know which is wrong and which is right."

"Hummm," Longworth mused, making a steeple out of his fingers and looking profound while he privately wondered if she really was as braless as she appeared to be. And, if so, what kept those amazing boobies so jauntily erect in defiance of the law of gravity. "Precisely what aspect of sin is it that perplexes you, my dear?" he asked.

"Oh, all of it," Ellen replied, "but especially the part about sex. I don't want to do wrong, but I do have to keep up with style and custom or look like a freak. Take these miniskirts…" She picked at the hem of the knit dress. "They're comfortable and I guess the men like them, but are they really immoral? And then there's the subject of underwear. I hate to put on panties and bras, yet some of the older women tell me I'm a bad girl for dressing the way I am now. But I guess the worst thing is the dreams. Am I responsible for what I dream, Reverend Longworth? Every night I have these wonderful dreams about older men. You see, I don't like boys my own age; they're so crude and stupid. Anyway, I dream that older men, not real old, you understand, just mature and handsome and attractive like you, take me down on a bed, take my clothes off of me and kiss my body all over. Then they take their clothes off and get on top of me and…"

"Quite so. Quite so," Longworth interposed. "I think I understand."

"I'll bet you don't… not really," Ellen protested. "How could you know what it's like to be a girl and have a man lift your skirt like this and rub his hands all over your belly and down into your hair?" She pulled her skirt up above her navel and demonstrated with her own hand. "You try it," she suggested, lying back down on the bed, "and you'll see what I mean. How can I trust what you tell me if I don't know you've experienced it?"

Longworth was not exactly a fool. Like a wary fox, he smelled the trap. But was the overpowering scent of the bait more than he could resist? He knew she was putting it on a bit thick, but damnit there she was, all spread out there on the bed, her beautiful, young legs already quivering in anticipation, her open thighs revealing the puffy pink lips of her vulva haloed by soft, blonde hair. His cock was so hard it ached. And now she was lifting the knit dress even higher, pulling and bunching it up on her torso to expose those magnificent breasts. Good God! What was he to do? No doubt it was a trap and he… he… Oh, to hell with it!

"Do you mean that those men in your dreams feel of you like this?" he asked as he moved to the edge of the bed beside her and put his hand on the warm satin of her thigh.