Three Musketeers

A reminder of the AFF content tags for this story: OC 3Plus Ageplay Exhib Fingering Minor1 Oral COMPLETE

Summers are short in our country. So those balmy afternoons before the midges swarm and threaten to carry you away by their sheer numbers are precious. Our population is the size of Santiago’s and with 100,000 lakes, there are stunning locations for everyone. So when the sun warms our bones, and midsummer is close, we Finns do go a little crazy. Cars park by lakesides, their passengers of all ages drying, as naked as they were born, before resuming their journey, refreshed by cool, pure, water.

Matti called, tempting me with friends of his girl who’d be coming up from Helsinki to join him in Tampere for that midsummer weekend. Janika started university the year before, so the idea of being around cool chicks from the Big City was impossible to refuse. Little else might happen here, let’s face it. Alcohol would be involved and, by tradition, skinny dipping. What’s not to like, I thought. My single-track, nineteen-year-old male brain not registering what Matti later swore he’d told me. Janika and two of her friends were committed to help out school groups at a lakeside picnic twenty clicks out of town. Any adult there was a de facto volunteer.

We organised—two guys, four girls and six teachers from the schools, in charge of one-hundred ten to twelve-year-old schoolkids. ‘In charge’ as in herding cats. Excited kids, a hot afternoon, a picnic, beach, water and lots of space does not begin to describe the horror as the coach doors swung closed on the unfolding scene.
I watched, aghast, as staff produced bats, balls and frisbees from prepared bags. These people are supposed to be smart? I mean, you need a master’s degree to teach in Finland. At that moment my friendship with Matti became, well, questionable. “The fuck are we doing here?” I asked, shaking my head.

The numbers were alarming, but the noise made communication impossible. You might think managing a group of ten or so kids is dead easy but here at midsummer, the conditions were explosive. The groups migrated then split apart at random. Students appeared to be in two games at once. One moment you had eight, the next it was twenty excited, yelling and squealing school kids. To cap it, no-one had even considered swimming clothes. At a lake. Yeah, right.

Only the occasional wayward shot flew into paddling depth. It was fun, of a peculiar, sadistic variety, but I soon found myself barefoot, wading deeper as a retriever. This developed into a game in itself. Early on, I shucked my decent, almost-clean, T-shirt, for later. We opened with bat and ball, changed to volleyball, then frisbee. Others joined, more split away, kids started playing in the shallows; then came the splashing. Two girls began a chain reaction which threatened the water level. Frisbees and balls hurtled past my ears—just how far I could go before disappearing or falling over caused exhilarated shrieks and attracted yet more students whose games were still land-based.

Two of Janika’s friends saw my fate and decided that dry clothes for the ride home was a decent trade-off for wet bra and pants. That was fine by me—unexpected and enjoyable, but it set a challenge to the students. The boys in underpants or shorts; girls now appeared dressed only in vests and underpants, or training bras and panties, or just their knickers depending on their state of development or confidence. The games became chaotic and my forays into deeper water more frequent. I decided to let my jeans dry on a rock because I was mostly waist-deep.

The worst behaved, wildest throwers were in my group—twelve or fifteen, mostly girls; we found ourselves 20m, then 50m along the lakeshore, finally out of detailed sight, 80m distant. Making myself a target to pull them back up the shore, didn’t work. At first singly, then in groups of two and four, they began holding my arms to prevent me catching—it was relentless. I fell diving for a shot, and in an instant they jumped me. The game had become wet wrestling; a ‘catch the big boy’ contest.
I discovered how strong eleven-year-olds can be when you’re soaked and exhausted. And now the last boy, bored with the girl’s new games, returned to the beach.

Play morphed into throw yourself, have the boy catch you, and be flipped into the water. These slippery bundles of excited fun, clad in their wet underclothes took some catching, and launching them up by their bums was problematic. By the third flip, I realised I was becoming naughty. A frisson of excitement ran through me. It was just too easy to become intimate with their pubescent flesh. My fingers crept ever more between their legs. I felt their brushing of hands and I suspected this was by intent.

As my arms gave out, they tired and the group broke up, returning along the shore to the main party in ones and twos, the wet fun over. But three troublemakers remained.
Nor would they give up; playing at horses. One giggling girl clung to my neck from the back, her elbow around my throat, another from the front, I tried to throw the third minx, but the strength had drained from me. I pushed her through the water, first by her arm and later with my hand on her rump and finally between her legs. Half-swimming, half-gliding she returned in a circle time and again, refusing to give in. When I slipped a finger into her panties to feel her, there was no objection. The girl at the front tired, slipping; on the verge of dropping off except her legs were tight around my waist. Interest in my nascent erection gave her new strength as she rubbed her little mound over a half-erect penis.
Out of control of three determined, and now very horny, pubescent angels, was bad enough but, much worse, I was enjoying it. This was not the behaviour expected of assistants and I needed to quit before they reported me but that’s damn hard when you’re being teased. Something about this situation was just too weird, telling me I could get away with it—dangerous territory. Stimulated by the unremitting attention of a pubescent mound, my erection hardened. Fuck, it felt good, but what was wrong with me? I got regular pussy from girls my age and these kids were not even teens. I had read about people…. surely, not me? The girl gazed up, willing me to join her world of tease. It was real all right—I wanted her. The whole scene swam before my eyes.

Now or never, I thought—walking out into the lake to hide and get buoyancy, they became anxious about the depth and shivered in the colder water, holding tighter. Hidden now, I pulled the front of my boxers releasing the head of my dick, the shaft still trapped in the waist band. The girl felt my adjustment and responded by nuzzling my chest. Pulling aside her panties I had full contact with her little pussy. Tensing and relaxing her legs she rubbed over my glans, along her slit and over her clitty. As innocent blue eyes full of want looked up, I part-mouthed and whispered to her, “yes, or no?” She nodded—well, I did ask; not that it would make any difference at trial. Freeing my dick and balls from my boxers, I held the shaft—she felt it, understood and sank her cunt. After some jiggling, I was inside, she took all of the head and two or three centimetres of shaft, breathing deeply, jerking up and down, fucking. To anyone on shore, it was clear we were having sex, so I turned to face away from the primary group down the lakeside.

My back hanger must have known what was going on—she told me she couldn’t swim; clinging tighter and higher, knees under my arms. I wanted to explore her slit, but it was pressed against me—too high, so I pushed aside the wet material and fingered her ass; she jiggled just enough to allow a watery fingertip to slip into her anus. I was past caring now.

The girl playing at boats saw everything, kids in the leading group were leaving the lake. Pulling my arm toward the shore she urged us. “On the beach. Over here,” pointing to a smooth boulder behind bushes. The front girl, still impaled and fucking, made me anxious as I walked. The back girl dropped off and took my other hand, urging us out of the water as we reached the shallows.
With shrubs providing cover, my two pullers watched the girl enjoying my dick. The topless one moved to grasp a handful of my shaft below my little hanger’s vulva—she couldn’t or didn’t want to take more inside. This girl’s extraordinary nipples on breast buds erected by the cool water, were irresistible, and I teased them now, as she held me, smiling. The other girl, more developed, slipped off her panties and tugged off her training bra revealing stunning breasts, already A-cup, pointed and perky, sticking out proudly—those early teen torpedoes with no sag. God knows how I didn’t cum then, because she moved in to let me fondle them as she cupped my balls. My hanger whimpered, panting tightening on me as she came, then relaxed. On an unknown signal she disengaged and slid off, sitting on her haunches, spent.
The other two pulled off my boxers, greedy girl’s eyes devouring my naked erection, breast buds lay herself on the boulder, a sexual sacrifice, spreading her legs and tempting me to enter her.
Miss A-cups fondled my balls from behind while I screwed her friend, commanding my first-fucked to get back in and grip my dick. “Keep him hard, Ruuta. Squeeze it, work him.”

Hands on hips, with two preteen girls helping me, I sluiced into breast bud’s tight little cunt, a generous blond peach fuzz ran from her navel over her labia. Her hardened nipples were almost a third of her buds and I fondled them now but something told me I should be preparing A-cup. On cue, reaching for her, she spread for me, rolling her head back as I pushed past her entrance and curled my finger for her special spot, creaming her into a froth. First-fucked bent to suckle on breast bud’s nipple bringing her to a climax, shaking and whimpering. Once more I saw the move, she rolled away, and A-cups was in her place, instantly. Tag-team fucking.

A-cup’s pussy was luxurious with coarse dark brown pubic hair, part middle-eastern, maybe—she wasn’t loose, but she was clearly no virgin. The combined creamy juice from her and her friends allowed full penetration—I fucked her with no regard for her age. It felt too good, this was just massive filthy sex. There was something badly amiss with me; I should not be enjoying such young flesh. Those perfect titties wobbled like conical jellies. A hand from behind fondled my balls leaving me free to explore six pre-teen breasts and two pubescent pussies, fucking the third.
“Uurrgh, I’m going to come,” I announced. In an instant—A-cups had help. One went to her clit where fingers became a blur whilst mouths sucked both her nipples. They released my balls in favour of bringing their friend to orgasm which she did seconds later, taking a deep breath and holding, her face reddening, body stiffening and arching as she stifled the shout that would expose us. With her climax, I was there, my guts knotted, balls tightening as the spasms hit. They saw my orgasm arrive.

First-fucked said, “milk him.” A skinny finger slick with pussy mucus slipped into my ass, followed by a second, longer, one. I spread my legs in response, still shafting A-cup’s meaty cunt as fast as I could until I released, pumping semen deep into this gorgeous tight pubescent vagina. The fingers were just too short to reach my prostate but I knew I was cumming in torrents.
Ten seconds later, she commanded, “clean up.”
Two mouths licked the cum off my dick, first-fucked leaving me to lap at A-cup’s pussy instead.

“Share,” she called. They kissed, sharing tongue; all three tasting our mingled group sex, moaning as they did so.
“Dress,” came the next instruction. While panties and bras were pulled on, A-cups peered over the bushes where the frolicking was finishing.
She barked, “separate now—and hurry!” Pointing me to the water, my usefulness over.

I found sandy boxers, stuffed a softening penis inside and waded out into cool water to swim back parallel to the shore and allow a tired body to absorb blood from my dick. As I swam, so did my brain, reflecting on what happened. The whole thing took, what, ten or twelve minutes from start to finish? Military in its precision—how the fuck did they do it?

Hungry, chilled and out of breath, I hauled out onto the beach, thanking god the cold water had done its job. Finding jeans and a now-grubby T-shirt, I grabbed the remaining sandwiches and a left-over light beer.
A serenity descended as adults supervised the clearing away of the picnic.
Matti caught me at last, shaking his head. He had seen my group and began to admonish me. “You look wiped out, Roope. You know, we just had to stop them drowning, not wind them up.”
“Yeah, well, I wish I’d had yours. Get me a beer, I’m parched. Look, are you sure this was mentioned yesterday?”
“Certain,” he said, grinning. “Pretty sure, anyway. Quit whingeing, Roope, you’re going to score—Saija has the hots for you.” Matti nodded toward to a pretty girl struggling to pull a tight T-shirt over a generously filled wet bra.
Relief was sweet as the groups traced their belongings—a top, a phone and a muddy bra still unclaimed at the end—and boarded their coaches.
A young teacher, a guy about twenty-five, I guessed, leaned towards me as if to impart a secret. “So, you found our Three Musketeers,” he said, nodding up the lakeside to where we disappeared.
“Fucking exhausting, right? One day they’ll probably run Nokia, though.”
Grinning, he swung onto the bus, the door hissed closed and they left. I was speechless. The best education system in the world, it is said.

The following day, midsummer, I made love to a beautiful friend of Janika’s—Saija, at dusk in a summer house at another lake. Sajia was exquisite and sexually adventurous—a perfect midsummer date The moment was perfect but our parting immature, careless. Assuming she must be committed to someone back in Helsinki, I demurred and, I suppose, I must have been still reeling from The Three Musketeers.
Four years later, we met by chance at the Pyynikin Brewhouse on Verkatehtaankatu.

Married over ten years now, I love Saija more than life, but my wife will never learn what happened the day before midsummer that year.
 

Author’s Note
I wrote this as a oneshot but I liked the Finnish setting because it reminded me of a real girl I met in Tampere many years ago. She was the first to fuck me rather than… anyway. The more I wrote the more I remembered Finland, so this became the prequel to Forest Girls.