Camping Holiday
Keywords: Holiday, Camping,
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** * * WARNING * * **
This is a work of adult fiction and contains descriptions of sexual acts between consenting adults and others. If you are under the age of consent where you reside delete this file immediately. If it is illegal to obtain this sort of material where you reside delete this file immediately. Otherwise read and enjoy! "
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Chapter One
It was the summer of 1976 and I'd just left school. Those of you old enough to remember will know what the weather was like. Hot! In fact it was the hottest summer in England for a long, long time. Fed up with being alone at home, all my friends had started work or were on holiday with their parents, my first job was still a month away, I'd decided to pack my tent and a few things, jump on my motorbike and head off somewhere.
The first toss of a coin gave me south, the second west. That is how I selected Cornwall.
I was on a campsite, or to be more precise a field with a swimming pool, shower and toilet block, just outside of Padstow. My home for the last week was a very off-white, one-man tent, about eight feet by four with just enough room inside for me and my few things.
I'd not long returned from my day at the beach, about an hour's steady walk, when I noticed a large Rover pull up opposite my tent. It was towing a relatively large caravan. The sun's glare on the car's windscreen prevented me from seeing the occupants clearly. One of the pleasures of camping is watching my fellow campers go by; at least the young scantly dressed female ones.
At this point I'll say a bit about me, or at least as I was then. I was tall, well over 6' (that hasn't changed) but looked a bit skinny, mainly because I was into long distance running. I had long dark hair which was usually greasy an hour after it had been washed. I was told I was reasonably ok to look at and that my best assets were my pale blue eyes. Oh yes! I was still a virgin, in fact had never even seen a naked woman except in photographs, but I lived in hope.
Anyway, back to the story. The Rover took an eternity to back the caravan into a position suitable to the driver. The driver got out of the car and began to disconnect the caravan. He was average height, balding and I guessed his age to be mid thirties. Judging by his red face he'd been in the car a while (normal English cars of the period never had air-conditioning) and didn't seem too happy. From the passenger side a woman emerged with a grace beyond all men (well straight men anyway). She was petite about 5'1" with a delightfully slender figure. Despite being in the same car as the man she looks as if she was stepping out of the one of the world's top hotels; so cool did she look.
'We'd have been here hours ago if you could only read a bloody map.' I heard the man shout at the woman. She ignored him and started to unload some things from the back of the car. Still grumbling the man set about preparing the caravan for occupation.
For the next twenty minutes I admired this woman opposite. Her dark hair was short for the period but it enhanced her Elvin face. I decided she was a few years younger than her husband (I'd noticed a ring and made what turned out to be an accurate assumption). She seemed unconcerned at her husband's moaning and just got on with her jobs in what was an obviously well rehearsed routine. As the man pulled a large awning out of the caravan, I decided to be neighbourly (not just to get a closer look at his wife) and offer him a hand. Just as I stood up he noticed me and shouted with the tone of a schoolteacher, 'Oye you! Come here and assist me with this awning.' That this was an order rather than a request was obvious. Even at school we weren't talked to like that.
I looked at him with disdain and decided to emulate his wife and ignore him. I sat down again. He shouted a few more times, his voice getting shriller and his face redder with each call, until he realised that I was immune to his words. As much as I liked looking at his wife, I'd had enough of him, so I grabbed a towel and headed off to the pool for a swim.
When I got back an hour or so later the couple were in the caravan. I settled down outside my tent to catch the last rays of sunshine before turning in. Before I did I saw the man leave the caravan and after a snarl at me, jump into his car and head off. He hadn't returned by the time I dropped off to sleep.
I did hear his car again the following morning, before six o'clock at that, when he drove off. Fortunately it was early enough for me to get back to sleep again.
Later that morning I was dressed in my holiday attire, i.e. shorts and trainers only; and for want of something better to do I was cleaning my bike when the woman came out of the caravan. She saw me looking and waved. Being polite, to say nothing of curious, I waved back and was delighted when she walked over to me. I watched her head towards me, taking in her pink summer shorts and bikini top. My eyes started with her fabulous long legs, at least long in proportion with her size, and worked their way up past a slim waist to small breasts. If she was aware of my interest she didn't show it.
'Hi! I'm sorry about last night,' she started, 'but Ron's like that. He was an officer in the Army and doesn't know how to talk to people; he assumes that he can still order people about. You were about to help anyway weren't you?'
I nodded, 'I was until he spoke to me like that, then he'd got no chance.'
'I thought as much. Have you been here long?' she asked.
'Just over a week.' I replied.
'So you know your way around by now then?'
Again I nodded.
'Oh! I'm Jacqui.' She held out her hand. I was a bit surprised at first; we don't do a lot of hand shaking where I come from.
I took her hand and said 'David.' Her hand was small and very soft. I held onto it too long until I noticed her look at our hands with a raised eyebrow. 'Sorry!' I muttered quickly, but reluctantly, letting go of her dainty hand.
We talked for a while about the British favourite topic; the weather, and she admired my bike saying she'd never actually been on one. Then she offered to make us a cup of tea, which I gladly accepted. As she walked back to her caravan I couldn't help but stare at her pert buttocks as they swayed gently with her stride. A couple of seconds later she returned and asked if I had any fresh milk. I went inside my tent and retrieved a bottle from the bowl of water that acted as my fridge. I passed it to Jacqui and watched a rerun of her walk back to her caravan. It was just as good second time around; in fact I felt my cock stirring.
Whilst we were drinking our cuppas I found out a few more details about her. She was married to Ron, as I'd assumed, he'd recently had to leave the army under what I gathered was some sort of cloud but she didn't go into too much detail, they'd come here for their holiday so that he could fish; which explained the early departure, and so that she could visit nearby Trebyan, which apparently was the village near Bodmin where her mother had been born and raised. She was younger than I'd thought, only 27 compared with her husband's 41, I never was very good at assessing peoples' ages. I told her a bit about myself. I thought of embellishing the truth to make me sound at least a bit interesting but didn't.
'How far is the nearest shop?' Jacqui asked when we'd finished our drinks.
'Depends on what you want,' I answered, 'if you just want a few things and you don't mind paying a bit over the odds then there's a shop about a half a mile away. Otherwise it's a trip into Padstow or Newquay.'
She smiled at me and said, 'I suppose I can manage to walk half a mile.'
All too eagerly I blurted 'I'll give you a lift if you want, I've got a spare lid.' I looked at her and could see on her face the question. 'Lid is a biker's term for a crash helmet.'
She nodded at my explanation before answering. 'I don't know, you hear so much about motorbike accidents.'
I'll go gentle with you, I said not realising the innuendo. This made Jacqui laugh and decided the issue for her. 'OK then, but first I want to try it just around the campsite.'
I reached inside my tent to grab both lids (two lids because as I said earlier, I lived in hope). I passed her my spare and needlessly explained how to fasten it. Jacqui must have been laughing inside at my eagerness.
I started the bike and sat astride and helped Jacqui get on behind me. Rather than tell her to hold on to the grab rail at the back I suggested she wrap her arms around me. This option certainly had my vote. Her hands came around and held on to my naked chest. I was so excited at this gorgeous woman touching me, however innocently on her part that I could not speak. I turned around to check she was OK and set of slowly. Her grip tightened initially but as she got more used to it she relaxed. Twice around the field was enough to show her that she it was not too scary so we set off for the shop. (I know riding without protective clothing is stupid but I was young and trying to impress a woman – potentially a lethal combination but I was lucky)
On our return trip Jacqui's hands seemed to caress my chest as she held on. By the time we got back I had a very erect cock. To prevent her noticing I dropped her at her caravan door in a pretence of chivalry but really so that I didn't have to get off in front of her.
In the few seconds it took to get to my tent Jacqui had gone inside her caravan. I quickly parked my bike and dived into my tent. I took off my lid and started rubbing my hard cock. I knew I needed relief so I whipped off my shorts and lay down on my blanket.
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Keywords: Holiday, Camping,