0 comments/ 161336 views/ 3 favorites Border Guards By: WolfSpirit "Come along ladies!" the forty-something chaperone urged her group of six coeds as they straggled out of the cabins into the warm and muggy pre-dawn air of the tropics. "You don't want to miss our bus or you'll have to walk to Columbia," she coaxed them, clapping her hands. "Now ladies, now! Get your butts on the bus!" Two of the coeds glanced at each other, their backs bowed under the heavy packs of hiking and camping gear and sports equipment. "Slave driver," one muttered as they walked barefooted from their cabin. "Yes, Mistress Virgin-ya," the other muttered sarcastically and giggled. "You don't really think she's still a virgin, do you?" the second one asked. The other shook her head. "No way! She's been married at least twice and I've met one of her recent lovers," the first girl whispered. "A hunk," she glanced over her shoulder and motioned for her roommate to come closer. "And I've seen the coach naked, and for a woman her age, she's got a killer bod," she divulged conspiratorially. "Where'd you see her naked?" the other asked. "My secret, roomie. That's my secret," she answered with a grin. "Today ladies," Virginia announced like a drill sergeant. "We've got a hundred miles to go before we can make the connection to the boat and our river cruise to the interior. You signed on to develop a team spirit and go mountaineering, so let's see some of that teamwork." Virginia was an experienced tri-athlete and mountaineer, trained in survival and she'd had been hired to train a competitive team of women marksmen. Part of the weight of their sports equipment was the disassembled weapons and hundreds of rounds of ammunition. Part of their training was to rappel and belay mountain faces and run rivers, while accurately taking down targets. It was a sport designed by a former Green Beret to challenge civilians that had developed a small, but ardent group of supporters, some of whom were pushing for its recognition as a legitimate competitive sport. One former Green Beret colonel -herself one of only a handful of women officers to get through the rigorous jump-school, ranger and survival training programs -- had sponsored this women's team. Two mixed gender European teams had been formed and an Australian all-girls team was expected to join the competition in the mountains of Ecuador in two months. The mountains of Colombia were as close as the team could get to the weather conditions and geological features of the Northern Andes as the competition rules permitted. Among the six coeds were four athletes and two support team members. The shooters were all in good condition, two were former gymnasts and two were swimmers. All four had good upper body strength and balance. Each of them was attractive in a healthy outdoorsy way, but like many gym rats a couple of them lacked basic social skills. The two cutest girls were sneaking into each other's bed out of convenience; the relationship was nothing more than good, convenient, no-hassle sex. One of the support team, an administrative assistant the other girls called 'ad-sis', was a cousin of the lead shooter and while she had a very pretty face, she was about twenty-five pounds overweight. For some the distribution of the extra pounds made her voluptuous. For others, Virginia included, the extra pounds made her a drag on the progress of the group; she just didn't have the stamina to keep up. Virginia had been after her since the trip started two weeks before. "Keep up, Jasmine. Hurry up, Jasmine. Let's go, Jasmine. Come on, Jasmine." Those phrases had become a group joke, even with Jasmine. Jasmine was twenty, with shoulder length blonde hair, grapefruit sized boobs and wide round hips, her torso was a model of 18th Century sexuality. Unfortunately for Jasmine, she was living in the 21st Century and thin was in, but her doe-like brown eyes and easy going style drew people to her, men and women alike. Jasmine was just as willing to cuddle with either sex and so long as they liked her, she'd do what she could to make them happy in return. This morning, she was struggling to haul her own gear - instead of weapons she carried the logbooks, manuals and two laptop computers used to monitor progress of each shooter. The other girls had nicknamed her Jazz because she liked to listen to it on her portable CD player and because she often described her role 'as keeping tabs on everyone and all that jazz.' Jazz pulled up on her jeans with one hand and lifted the shoulder straps away from her boobs with the other as she plodded across the wide lawn from the cabins to the parking area. The other support person was a feminine young man named Rigoberto, a Cuban-American who was selected for his nurse's aid training skills, his command of Spanish, and his willingness to live and work as the only male at the bottom of the totem pole below six women. He seemed to love it. He was tall and slender but very strong for his size and he was the first one to the "tourismo" bus at 4 AM and was standing on the roof helping the driver pack the teams' gear. Virginia smiled up at him and he smiled back, knowing that she could - and would - look right up the gap of his hiking shorts and see his 'personal gear' as he liked to call it. So far, four of the young women had been 'exposed' and none had accepted the offer, which didn't seem to bother Rigoberto at all. Most of the girls, Virginia included, figured his forwardness was overcompensation for his real sexual preference. Everyone treated him like 'one of the girls' up to a point; they wouldn't shower with him or share their bunks with him. But like most athletes they often found comfort in doing personal things with their teammates. For lady athletes, isolated and in a rigorous international training regimen, sometimes those were very personal things. Virginia glanced at her reflection in the tinted windows of the fifteen-passenger Toyota microbus. Her long brown hair was prematurely gray, which she'd dyed silver, pulled back and tied in a bun that gave her the look of a librarian, especially when she was seated behind her portable worktable wearing her glasses and working in the logbooks. She had a great figure, worked out everyday either swimming or running or lifting weights, sometimes all three. Her legs were sleek, muscular and tanned and her butt a firm volleyball shape. She inhaled and winked at her image. "Now if there was just a real man around," she said teasingly to herself. She hoped that one of the other teams had a stud for a coach who wasn't getting his horns trimmed by his athletes. But another two months without a good fuck? It was going to be tempting to see what Rigoberto might actually be able to do with his 'personal gear.' Then again, she could always find one her young women who was more than willing to keep the coach in a good mood. "Ah, well," she sighed and turned her attention back to the last of the girls. "Jasmine, I'm just going to have to beat a few of those pounds of your cute butt so you can keep up!" "Promises, promises," Jazz stuck out her tongue as she reached the bus, shrugged out of her pack harness and stood with her hands on her hips. "Oh, Rigo," she said in her best Scarlet O'Hara imitation. "Darlin' could you help poor little ole me?" Rigoberto nearly slipped off the roof hurrying to climb down to do her bidding. Virginia chuckled to herself when Jazz brushed her hair back, smoothed her hands over her ample bosom and tucked her tee shirt into the loose waistband of her jeans. He easily tossed the bulky pack up to the Texas-born Mexican driver and then climbed back up to help secure the load and to cover it with a green, waterproof tarp. "See, Mz Virginia," Jasmine said holding her jeans out from the curve of her belly, exposing a wide gap of pale white skin and the waistband of baby blue bikini panties. "These britches were tight when I left Memphis." Her fingers slipped under the waistband and tickled across the top of her panties. She was looking right at Virginia as she mock-masturbated. "You should have done that earlier," Virginia said flatly nodding at Jasmine's hand as it strayed lower down into the gap of between her legs. "But if playing with yourself in public turns you on, girl, just be careful about where you are when you submit to the urge." Virginia reached out, firmly gripped Jasmine by the wrist and pulled her hand out of her jeans. She spun her around, slapped her on her butt and pushed her towards the door to the van. "Now get that butt in a seat." Virginia noticed that Rigo was watching intently when she slapped Jasmine's butt. The force of the blow surprised both women. Virginia was surprised when her hand stung and she looked down to see the redness on her palm. Her hand tingled up to her elbow and it felt strangely erotic. Jasmine was surprised at how warm it made her butt feel. The initial shock quickly wore off and left an erotic tingling that she was thinking about as she slumped in her seat, pulled her knees to her chest to hide the rapidly hardening nipples. She braced her knees on the back of the seat in front of her and closed her eyes fantasizing what it might be like to let Virginia spank a few pounds away. Virginia and her six coeds each had a double seat to themselves. Rigoberto sat up front next to the driver, separated by the motor and the communications console built into the van. The owner of the van had 'loaned' it to the Green Beret colonel as his part of sponsoring the team and it was equipped like a military recon vehicle with compass, altimeter, three different radios and even a GPS locator. Everyone settled into the comfortable seats, most staring out at the darkness. Jasmine appeared to be napping. Two of the girls were curled up at the back of the bus, their bare feet touching intimately in the aisle. The others were reading or writing their private journals under the tiny overhead halogen spots designed for that purpose. Two hours later after two detours around a washed out bridge and another with a broken down bus on it, plus a fifteen minute wait for a bull to decide to give up his space on the dirt road they used to get from the weekend, lakefront camp to the highway, the otherwise uneventful trip pulled into a roadside restaurant for breakfast just as the sun was climbing over the treetops. Two young dark skinned girls behind the counter and kitchen window were looking at the group and shaking their heads. They still weren't used to groups of women - even they discounted the presence of Rigoberto - traveling alone in Central America. No one, not even the driver picked up a local paper or they would have known that skirmishes had broken out in the nearby provinces between so-called freedom fighters, who were mostly narco-traffickers who wanted to be left alone, and the local militia. Not that knowing the government had called for increased security along its porous border with Columbia would have altered their plans. They had a goal to be in Ecuador training in two days, and in two days they expected to be there. The girls finished their meals of eggs, rice and beans and trudged across the broken pavement of the normally very busy road to process their passports and present their international athletic credentials for passage into Columbia. A powerfully built black woman in a multi-colored skirt and yellow blouse that left her pierced navel exposed was pacing back and forth watching the group. Another younger, slender black girl with loose unfettered breasts that swayed under her NYPD tee shirt as she walked was providing them with one-dollar 'municipal tax stamps' and a gap-toothed, silver haired scrawny old man was selling the $5 tourist visas. The girls were pleased that the process seemed so simple and since they were the first ones to the windows when they opened, they were joking and pushing and playing as they headed back to the bus. The driver started the bus, pulled out onto the highway and drove less than a hundred meters and stopped in front of a triangular shaped building. He got out of the bus, stepped inside and disappeared behind the drapes of the office window facing the street. He hoped to try to clear the luggage with charm and a little 'mordita' (a bite) as the locals called the common practice of bribing low-level officials to do what they were supposedly paid to do. He returned shaking his head and he and Rigo climbed up onto the roof, loosened the tarp and began to hand down the packs to the grumbling girls. They'd been through five or six border crossings since starting their journey and each one seemed to be more of a pain and pointless harassment to folks used to driving thousands of miles across state lines without so much as a 'hello how are ya?' from the authorities. They had no appreciation of national borders or the interest of small nation states to stand their ground and jealously defend their right to decide who came and went in and out of their country. Virginia admired the tall, husky black man wearing a black tee shirt with a DFA logo, snug fitting black jeans, and a NY Yankees baseball cap came out of the building with a small dog which sniffed at the bags, knocking over one of them and pawing at it. The man had a smile like Samuel L. Jackson that disarmed everyone, and Virginia momentarily wished she had more time to make friends. He asked a question in a mix of Patois and Spanish, which sounded like a strange blend of French and English. They knew he wanted to know who was the owner of the bag. Jasmine raised her hand. "Bring the bag in here," he said is simple English. When Virginia stepped towards the building he put his hand out and blocked her way. "Alone," he said firmly. "Now see here, young man," Virginia had managed to intimidate most of the Latin men she'd challenged up to now, so she felt like she was on a roll. "I'm the coach and the responsible adult supervision of this group of athletes and we have special visas authorizing us to carry our equipment. I demand to know what you are planning to do with my team member. And I insist on being present when you interview her," Virginia announced confidently. She was unprepared for the impact of her bravado on this man. Usually her physical charms were enough to gain respect, but not this morning. "Then I guess I'll just have to inspect your stuff too," he said firmly. "Bring your gear in here," he barked and spun around on his heel and held the door partially open. Rigoberto carried Virginia's pack to the doorway, but the border guard pushed him aside. "Let the boss-woman carry her own gear," he hissed and Rigo scurried back to the safety of the group. Virginia hoisted the back easily to her shoulder, straightened her back and strode past him into the private room. She saw a small metal desk against one wall, a torn hospital privacy screen standing across the apex of the triangular shaped room and a red "x" painted in the middle of the floor. The room smelled like a dirty back roads gas station bathroom and what little air passed through the narrow windows at the ceiling did nothing to change the scent. She turned and stood proudly, then smiled politely. He was such a hunk, she thought. Too bad he's into his machismo mode this morning; I'd like to see what's under those jeans. "Put your bag on the table, unlock it, open it and step back. Don't move from the "X" unless you're told to," he said as he pushed the door closed. So, you're gonna keep up the hard ass attitude even when we're alone, she thought. Okay, cowboy, if that's the way it. Virginia though she heard the door lock snap shut as she spun the two combination locks and released them. She opened the halves of the bag. She pushed the locks closed with a defiant snap and folded open the interior cover on one side of the black bag. The guard stood waiting, his arms folded across his strong chest. Virginia realized he was waiting for her to step onto the mark and did so. He stepped to the desk and began to slide his hands under all the clothes and into each pocket. As he began unzipping the side pockets a door behind her opened and Virginia heard someone else step into the room. The heavy footsteps approached her and she twisted at the waist and saw the large black woman who'd been pacing outside. "Buenos dias," Virginia said pleasantly, relived to have a woman in the room with her. "Take off your sneakers please," the woman said. Virginia untied the $200 pair of sports shoes and handed them to the woman who looked carefully at them, poking her fingers inside and removing the laces and folding back the tops. She sniffed them and then tossed the shoes into the corner. "Your socks, please." Virginia pulled her thick soled hiking socks off and handed them to over. The concrete floor was gritty and damp on the soles of her bare feet. A small sharp edge sent a chill up her leg. The woman turned the socks inside out, sniffed them and tossed them onto the shoes. "Your blue jeans, please." "Now wait a minute," Virginia complained. The border guard stopped his searching of the interior compartments of her bag, leaned back against the wall, and folded his arms over his chest again. Virginia could see the muscles of his forearms twitching and the clenching of his jaw muscles warned her not to object. She briefly imagined she was stripping for him, enticing him, and seducing him. She unsnapped her button, pulled down the zipper and wriggled the jeans down over her hips, past her knees and stepped out of them. She handed the denims over and adjusted the crotch of her beige bikini panties with her finger tips and silently cursed to herself about letting her pubic hair trimming be one of the things she'd given up in the interests of getting back to nature. The matron pulled all the pockets inside out, dumping out the coins and bills and credit cards into a plastic box then she inspected each seam and studied the jeans as if she were trying to memorize the design techniques. She tossed the jeans onto the pile in the corner. "Your shirt, please." Virginia unbuttoned the military-style blue shirt and handed it to the matron, and folded her arms loosely under her breasts, then realized she was lifting them and the gesture might be mistaken as some kind of come-on, so she dropped her arms to her sides. As an athlete, Virginia had stood practically naked for medical inspection before, but this was different. This was intimidation, plain and simple. She bit her tongue to keep from complaining and making it worse. The matron opened each of the dozen pockets and sub pockets and emptied the film canisters, tissues, pens and postcards into the box. Virginia was aware that perspiration was running down her ribcage and her inner thighs but she refused to wipe at it. She was reminded of the motivational speaker's adage: never let them see you sweat! The border guard emptied one side of the large bag onto the table and searched carefully along each edge for secret compartments. "Your bra, please," the matron said and held out her hand. A moment later Virginia felt her breasts settle slightly and the warm air brush across her nipples. She folded her arms protectively across her chest while the matron inspected each seam in the sports bra. She tossed the bra onto the pile and held out her hand. Virginia pushed her beige panties down over her hips and handed them over. "Hands on the top of your head, please," the matron said as she studied the now-naked woman. The matron ran her fingers over the crotch of the panties and smiled. She nodded to her partner. "Senora complains and makes ugly sounds," she said in broken English. "But her nipples are hard and there's a wet spot in her panties," she added in a strong voice that Virginia knew was meant to carry outside to the group. The matron tossed the panties to the border guard who ran his finger over the crotch and nodded then tossed them onto the pile. "Keep your hands on your head and don't move, Senora," the border guard said flatly. "The matron has her orders. Do not interfere. Do you understand?" Border Guards You jerk, she thought to herself. We could be enjoying this if you weren't such a macho pig. Her mouth opened without her brain being fully engaged. "What I understand is that you're intentionally provoking me with an unwarranted and probably illegal search," Virginia growled back and immediately wished she had kept her thoughts to herself. The matron's hands closed quickly on each of Virginia's nipples and twisted them roughly from side to side. She pulled them out, twisted them again and then slapped up at the bottoms of Virginia's full breasts and ran her fingers along the long-since healed scar tissue from her first boob job. The matron bent forward and studied the faint pink line that ran along the underside of each breast, her breath warm on Virginia's tanned breasts as she lifted and dropped each breast and pulled and tugged at them. She smiled at Virginia and stepped back. Virginia didn't have to glance down to know that her nipples were rock hard. She wondered if the woman could already detect the change in her scent from fear to arousal. Virginia gritted her teeth, clasped her fingers tightly together on the top of her head and stared at the wall behind the border guard wondering what she'd do next. If she touched her between her legs would she cum or pee? Virginia wondered which was the dominant emotion, fear or sexual arousal? Virginia tried to clench her thighs together and all it did was make a wet sound that gave away the truth about one side of her sexuality. She had a submissive side and being forced to undress and stand naked while her breasts were slapped around had aroused her, a lot. "These big boobs are mostly hers," The matron announced loudly. Then in a softer voice she said to Virginia. "You'd be surprised how many D-cups we discover on B-cup girls. And they're not filled out with silicone, either," she said as she slapped at Virginia's boobs and smiled as they shifted back and forth. The flesh reddened and tingled and Virginia closed her eyes and tried to ignore the electrical impulses that ran straight down to her clit. The border guard stuffed the clothing back into the empty half of the bag and snapped the cover closed. "Since you demanded that you know exactly what our drug enforcement inspection and weapons control procedures include," the guard paused and let his eyes drop from Virginia's dark brown, rock hard nipples to the puffy, rose colored flesh hidden behind a dense bush of light brown hair between her legs. The guard smiled and nodded at the matron. "Step behind the screen please, senora," the guard said as he began tossing the clothes and toiletries out of the other side of Virginia's pack onto the desktop. Momentarily grateful that what Virginia assumed was going to include a body cavity inspection would take place with some tiny amount of privacy was quickly replaced with revulsion. Behind the screen was the bottom of a fiberglass shower stall mounted on a small, raised platform over a sunken drain in the concrete floor. The usual drain at the center of the shower base was enlarged and covered with wire screen. Straddling the drain was a small, rubberized stool sold in many stores to give you an extra ten inches to look into tall kitchen cabinets. There was a single faucet mounted on the wall and a three-foot length of half-inch green garden hose attached to the waterspout below the faucet. There was no nozzle, just the rounded off end of the hose. The cracked tile on the wall was stained with dark brown and reddish streaks that sent a chill up Virginia's spine and turned her stomach with the unmistakable scent of urine and feces. "Kneel on the stool, Senora, facing the room," the matron said with a smile as she reached into a desk drawer, opened a jar of Vaseline and scooped out a large dollop into the palm of her hand. Virginia was trying to balance her knees on the small stool and brace her bare toes inside the shower base without getting her feet in the base when she heard the sticky wet sound of the matron rubbing the Vaseline into her hands. Virginia could see the guard through the tear in the screen. He was leaning against the wall watching the matron who stood in front of Virginia, temporarily hiding Virginia's body from his view. The matron reminded Virginia to keep her hands on the top of her head, which made staying balanced even more difficult. The matron stepped beside Virginia, held the garden hose with one hand and began to stroke one hand up and down as if she were jerking off the hose as she coated it with the Vaseline. Virginia was worried when she saw foot-long length of hose she was coating. The matron squatted down next to Virginia and exposed a wide expanse of cleavage, her huge black nipples standing out firmly into the bright yellow top. "Don't move," the matron said as she pressed the tip of the hose against Virginia's anus. Virginia grunted and her asshole clamped down tight. "If you relax this won't hurt so too much," the matron said. She reached up and twisted a tender, swollen nipple with one hand and without warning drilled the greasy end of the hose past Virginia's tightly puckered anus and wriggled what felt like at least a foot of hose up her ass. "Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh my god," Virginia felt her asshole flexing and convulsing. Virginia inhaled sharply and took short rapid breaths trying to regain control of her emotions and her body. Her toes curled over the edge of the shower base and she struggled to keep her balance now that the matron had released her grip on her nipple. The matron just smiled and pulled a little of the hose out then began to stroke it in and out of her ass. Virginia closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on keeping her balance. The matron reached out with her other hand and opened the faucet. Suddenly a strong stream of tepid water began to pulse into Virginia's rectum. For a brief moment it felt like a lover climaxing and Virginia struggled to keep from moaning. But the water continued pulsing long after any lover who had ever penetrated her there, and then the water began to get colder. Soon her belly felt like it would burst as the water flooded her insides. Virginia clenched down tightly with her anus but she could still feel the cold water running down the insides of her thighs. "See, it's not so awful, is it Senora?" the matron asked cheerfully just as she pushed two fat, well-greased fingers into Virginia's vagina and wriggled them around, searching, pressing against the membrane separating her bowels from her vagina, the matron's palm pressing up against Virginia's vulva as she continued to wriggle the hose in her ass. A groan escaped from somewhere in Virginia's chest, a chest she knew was heaving just like her belly as she struggled to calm down. "Oh, god, please, no more," Virginia pleaded trying to lift up and get away from the dual penetration and the pulsing in her ass. "But Senora, you're little cock is out and your pussy is gripping my fingers," the matron teased her victim as she wriggled a third finger into Virginia's sex. "Are you sure you're ready to prove to me now you're not carrying any illegal drugs? Are you really ready for me to stop before you come?" The matron paused and the lack of motion surprised Virginia whose body had been rocking with the rhythm and she suddenly had to brace her feet against the tile behind her to steady herself. The tile was sticky and she shuddered as she realized what she was doing and what her feet were probably in. "Hold it in for just a moment more, Senora," the matron said as she brushed her thick thumb across the distended and tender clit that was protruding from its tent. "Oh my god," Virginia moaned as the matron rapidly pulled the foot of rubber hose out of her ass. "I can't hold it!" she groaned as she squeezed her pubic muscles in vain and the water began to dribble out of her ass. "Lift up, Senora," the matron said as she pushed up with the hand that was still buried in Virginia's sex. The matron was strong enough to hold Virginia's body while she tucked her feet under her hips. Virginia felt her pussy pulsing as she lifted and braced her feet under her. When the matron pulled the stool away Virginia muttered, "Oh shit," as her bowels released and she dumped the watery contents into the shower base, splattering her feet and ankles. The spray bounced up and mixed with the brown sludge that was pouring out of Virginia's ass, coating her thighs and the backs of her calves. The matron's hand was still holding her up completely unconcerned about getting wet or dirty, the three fingers no longer moving around inside her sex. Virginia broke the grip of her hands in her hair and braced herself on the sides of the shower base as she farted and shot another blast of water into the tray. After about three minutes of pure humiliation, Virginia was purged and she squatted naked and vulnerable, shaking. Her sex was still pulsing and her anus clenching and relaxing as she slowly regained control of her body. She realized the warm wetness between her legs was because she'd released her bladder as well. Her hand touched her sex lightly and she trembled. It was slippery and wet and tender. Now she was not only humbled, but sexually aroused and unfulfilled. The matron handed her the greasy brown-stained end of the hose. "Rinse off and clean your pussy, Senora," she said as she stepped back and reopened the faucet sending only a gentle stream of water that dribbled out of the hose. Virginia rinsed her body and wiped the hose clean of the feces before she aimed it at her pussy. "Inside there too," the matron said and Virginia pushed six inches of the thin hose into her sex and let the water douche her until it too ran clean. The scent of sex and urine and feces was all confused and Virginia was vaguely aware of being disappointed that she hadn't climaxed. The matron turned off the water. "Stand up, Senora and don't move." Virginia slowly straightened her legs and had to brace her hands on the wall to stand. The water ran down her legs and the heat in the room began to warm her surprisingly cold feet. "She had nothing to hide, just as you suspected, commandante," the matron bent over and rinsed her hands clean as she reported to the border guard who had stuffed Virginia's clothes back into the pack and closed it. "Senora," the commandante stepped around from behind the desk and stood facing Virginia. "I didn't think you were carrying any contraband, but we can't accept people at face value in our line of work. I'm sure you will see the dilemma this puts us in," he smiled as his eyes traveled from her toes slowly up her body. "Even a beautiful, elegant woman such as you have been caught smuggling drugs. And they don't seem to understand that we will find them." He laughed. Then he lowered his voice and leaned close enough for Virginia to smell the onions he'd had with his morning sausage and eggs. "But you have been a pain in the ass this morning, and since you have demanded to be present while we inspect the bags our drug dog identified, I am going to insist on some measure of punishment for your disrespect and rudeness." He pointed to a smaller "x" in green painted on the floor along the sidewall beside the door to the outside. "Stand over there," he said with a wave of his hand. Virginia stepped over to the green mark and stood still staring anxiously at the back of the door and the pile of her clothes in the corner. When the door opened would she be on display for all those who might be standing outside waiting? Part of her was intrigued at being naked in a crowd. Part of her was frightened at being publicly aroused and used. "Bring the fat one in," the commandante yelled out through the window. Jazz was crying softly as another guard led her into the room. Her eyes snapped open when the door was closed and the lock snapped shut. She was led to the mark before she saw Virginia standing naked with her hands clasped over her head. Her eyes quickly scanned the naked older woman's body and she tried to smile. "Be brave," Virginia mouthed to her young charge. "Your shoes, please," the matron said as the commandante began to inspect the girl's large pack. Virginia was surprised at how dainty the big girl's feet were and she was startled by the firmness of the huge breasts and how they hardly shifted at all when Jazz gave up her bra. There was a small tattoo on the underside of one bright pink nipple that looked like a tiny monkey about to squeeze the nipple. Virginia was surprised too that Jasmine was completely shaved when she pushed her panties off and handed them to the matron. There was a small tattoo just above her clitoral hood, which was partially open and the tip of the dark pink button visible. Virginia couldn't make out the design of the tattoo and had to force herself to lift her eyes from the dark pink lips that were already puffy and glistening. Virginia studied Jazz's body and her obvious sexual reaction to their situation. Jazz's nipples were erect and her nether lips were engorged and folded open, wet and inviting. Her full figure was as beautiful as a sensual Reuben painting. There was no rolls or flab; she was just a large solid, and very erotic looking naked young woman. Jasmine stared at the naked woman standing across the room with her arms over her head, her breasts lifted and her sex barely hidden behind a brown bush. Jasmine wondered what it would look like with a small trimmed triangle. She could tell that Virginia was obviously aroused by the sight and scent of her naked body. Virginia's nipples were fully erect and her sex was swollen and juices coated her inner thighs. Jasmine tried to smile to reassure her it was all right, they'd get through this. Virginia had to shake her head to remind herself that Jasmine was just a girl but her body screamed sensuality and Virginia knew at that moment that when they got out of this 'shared experience' that she would have to counsel the young assistant. She wanted to reach out and comfort the young naked girl but Jazz just turned her head and looked at her with those doe-like eyes as the matron led her behind the screen. Virginia listened as the matron ordered Jazz around in Spanish and Virginia felt her own anus pulsing as the moans and groans of the young girl filled the room while the matron probed and stroked the hose. Virginia imagined what the hose looked like going in and out of the poor girl's asshole. Jazz was so young that she didn't have the maturity or self control that Virginia had mustered. Virginia thought she heard the young girl groan out a climax behind the screen. After the noisy discharge and the silent rinsing of Jazz's legs the matron spoke to a guard outside the room through the closed door. A young man in cutoffs and a tee shirt came into the room, retrieved the two carelessly repacked packs and hurried them out of the room only glancing furtively at the two naked women. The matron followed him outside a moment later. "You may have to help her get dressed," the commandante said as he pushed the screen aside. Jazz was curled up naked on the floor masturbating as if she were alone in a private room. Virginia knelt beside the girl and stroked her hands down her arms trying to calm her, to soothe her. "Oh my god, you poor child," Virginia whispered and cuddled the young girl to her chest. She tried to hold her arm still, to stop her from humiliating herself in front of the guard, but Jasmine grunted and yanked her hand free of Virginia's grip. "It's going to be okay," Virginia assured her. She wrapped her arms around Jasmine and held her tightly against her breasts. "Relax, Jasmine, it's going to be okay." The border guard was smiling as he watched their intimacy unfold. "Shut up," Jazz hissed as one hand became a blur across her sex, the other slapping at the wet swollen labia. Why couldn't this gorgeous, sexy, naked older woman just go with the flow and help her come? "I'm almost there," she hissed and turned her head and clamped her mouth down on one of Virginia's swollen nipples. A moment later Jazz growled and climaxed with a shudder as she sucked half of Virginia's breast into her mouth. "Oh jezzus, what are you doing?" Virginia croaked as the young girl's hands probed at Virginia's dripping wet sex and began to rub her clit rapidly. It felt like the girl would suck her nipple right off the end of her breast, and it sent pulsing waves down to Virginia's sex. "Oh fuck!" Virginia groaned and came in waves flooding the young girl's hands as Virginia bit her lip to keep from crying out. The guard laughed, adjusted the bulge in the front of his jeans and walked out of the room. Through the open door, Virginia could see the sturdy black woman curl her arm around the guard's waist and the two of them walked away together. Ten minutes later, Virginia and Jasmine had managed to help each other get dressed, neither one concerned by the fact that their panties were missing. They walked slowly out of the room wondering what kind of reception they'd get. What would their teammates say? Surely they could have heard them. But there were only a few locals sitting nearby on benches talking among themselves and they glanced up as the two women walked by then returned to their conversation. None of the athletic team was anywhere in sight. Virginia and Jazz walked slowly hand in hand across the street to the restaurant where the group was drinking coffee and laughing apparently unaware of the details of the past forty minutes that their coach and their ad-sis had endured. Virginia turned her back on the group, adjusted the thick seam of her jeans so that it was centered on her sex. She glanced at Jazz who was doing the same thing and they both smiled and shook their heads. "Okay, ladies," Virginia said. "Time to stop talking about sex and let's get your butts on the bus." One of the athletes stood up and let her eyes take in both women. "You guys okay?" she asked and got two nods and half a smile from both of them. "We were told to come here to wait," another girl added. "Are we next? Do all of us have to get our things inspected?" she asked innocently. Virginia shook her head. "No, honey, I think they're satisfied that we're just a bunch of crazy broads and we're harmless," Virginia winked at Jasmine. "Besides, after what we did, I don't think they've got the time right now, I see a regular bus pulling up to the customs office. So, ladies, let's get out butts out of here before they change their minds!" Jasmine settled into a seat opposite Virginia, curled sideways in her seat and smiled at her chaperone as one hand slipped under the waistband of her jeans. Virginia watched in amazement as the young girl masturbated to a climax without a sound then promptly fell asleep. Yes, ma'am. It was going to be an interesting trip, Virginia wrote in her laptop journal as she described an edited version of the morning's events to be emailed to their team sponsor as soon as they found a usable Internet connection. She closed the message with the remark that team cohesiveness seemed to be rapidly improving, saved the message, closed her laptop and stepped up behind the driver to ask how long the drive was to the next town. "About four hours, ma'am," the driver replied. "Why don't you take a nap?" Virginia curled up in her seat, closed her eyes and tried to put the erotic images out of her mind. She knew working side by side with Jasmine was not going to be the same anymore, and she dozed off thinking about Jazz sitting bare-breasted beside her in the sunshine as they monitored the team's progress. Yes, ma'am, this was going to be an interesting trip.