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a summer to remember

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The sudden burst of hot weather last week reminded me of a summer I spent in the blistering heat of southern France with Barbara and John. I was in my early 20s, just finished Uni and was planning on going inter-railing with my girlfriend. Then 3 weeks before we were due to go she told me that she wasn’t going as her new employer wanted her to start in August, not September. Of course, there was more to it than that and eventually I learnt that she was shacking up with someone who worked there who (presumably) had been fucking her when she did a placement there as part of her Uni course. I was devastated, but I’d bought my ticket anyway, and a tent, and being pretty independent minded thought ‘why not?’. I got the ferry across to Calais then a train to Amiens for a few days then down to Paris. Paris had a campsite in the Bois de Boulogne (which I think now is synonymous with dogging), I hadn’t booked and by the time I arrived it was getting dark, and the clouds were coming in. after a bit of tutting and some conversations in French eventually I was given a place near some camper vans as the tent pitches were all full. By now I was putting my tent up alone, in the dark, and a little light rain. I was also conscious that I was being watched by those around me safely in their campervans. Eventually a guy got out of one of them to give me a hand. It was one of those old fashioned ones with metal poles - so much easier with two. I thanked him, loaded my stuff into my tent and felt a bit homesick as the rain started to fall more heavily. The door was still open and I heard my helper approach. He handed me a mug of tea and a ham roll. ‘thought you might need something’ he said. ‘we’ve a storm coming in so sit tight if I were you’. I thanked him, I really was grateful. ‘no worries’ I said. ‘I’m John, just next door if you need anything’. I thanked him again and got my bed ready as the rain got heavier. I drifted off to sleep, only to be woken an hour or two later by a dramatic thunderstorm and rain like I’d never experienced before in a tent. Inevitably I needed the loo so I nipped out and relieved myself against a hedge. ‘you cant stay in there’ came a voice. I thought he was telling me off for not using the loos. ‘sorry?’ I asked. ‘you can’t stay in that tent in this storm. Those metal poles are lighting conductors. Come in here’. it was john, beckoning me into his campervan. I shut the tent up and hopped in, by now soaking wet through. The campervan was small, being tall, I couldn’t stand up in it properly. At one end was a table and seating and there behind a camping lamp was a slender attractive brunette – Barbara. She smiled a killer smile, put out her hand to shake and informed me how wet I was. ‘I’ll get you a dry t-shirt’ she said. ‘I can get something from the tent’ ‘you’re not going back in there’ she told me as another flash of lightning came over us. We settled down in the limited space with a bottle of Pernod and a sense that it was going to be a long night. With no sign of the storm letting up, we shuffled around and John converted the seating & table into the tiny double bed that they used. I assumed I’d be on the floor but there clearly wouldn’t be room for that. I volunteered to sleep across the front driver/passenger seats but their bags were on them. ‘we’ll be ok, we’ll top and tail’ said John. Barbara looked at me and smiled ‘I have a spare blanket for you’ she said. It was very cramped and I just put the blanket over me. It was too hot really, but felt I needed to cover myself a little. Barbara was in the middle with John the otherside of her and I laid down the other way up, with my head at her feet. Eventually we all drifted off, despite the persistent thunderstorm. Some time later, I was awoken by a stray hand on my cock. I had a semi lob on anyway, now I was at full mast as this hand massaged my cock and balls under the blanket. I reached down and held those slender fingers. This seemed to give her the permission she needed to massage me more vigorously. A little later she slipped her hand inside my boxers and massaged my cock in all its naked glory. The angle she wanked me from sent me over the edge and I came as quietly as I could. Her hand withdrew, leaving me to dribble into my boxers. There must have been cum on her hand but I couldn’t see what she did with it. I like to think she licked it off her elegant fingers and I spent the next hour wide awake getting hard again. Eventually I dropped off into a half sleep. It was soon morning and the storm had gone. John was up, gathering a few things. ‘off for a shower’ he said and I heard the sliding door close and steps became faint. ‘you were a naughty boy last night’ said Barbara. ‘me, naughty? What about you?’ ‘just being friendly’ she said ‘anyway, you spunked in your pants’ she said as her hand wandered under my blanket to test my hardness. ‘my turn now’ she said. With one slick movement she was across me, her pussy rubbing up and down my cock, both still in our underwear. Our tongues locked and she rolled over and dragged me on top of her, somehow losing her knickers in the same movement ‘fuck your auntie Barbara’ she commanded as her legs wrapped around me. I didn’t need asking twice, and I didn’t last long but she seemed happy with what I gave her. my guess was that she was late 30s with a husband somewhere in his 40s and here she was with a 20 yr old cock deep inside her. it might not have been the greatest performance of my life but I do remember unloading into her like there was no tomorrow. ‘oh fuck’ she said. She held me, kissed me and then declared she was going for a shower and asked me to keep an eye on the van. I got up and checked that I’d not left obvious spunk stains anywhere before inspecting the state of my tent. Everything was wet through. I started to lay out my stuff on the ground when John and Barbara reappeared from the showers. John took a look at my sleeping bag. ‘that’s gonna take a day or two to dry out’ he said. He was right, the air was still moist and the ground still wet. Barbara looked me in the eye. ‘don't worry, we can bunk up again tonight. I’ll make sure we have enough Pernod to go around.’
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Written by Jack T

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