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The Summer of 198?? Ch. 01

By: Aging Rake



There was a summer in the eighties when my life just seemed to disintegrate and then reassemble, and the autumn found my life in a place that I never would have believed.

May was a bad month. I had been under a lot of stress at work, and my colleagues and I could see the writing on the wall. Mrs Thatcher's Britain could be a ruthless place, and the company for whom I worked was slowly sinking in a very competitive market place. At the same time, I became aware that Mary, my wife of five years, was becoming more and more distant. No single reason for that, she had her own career and we were both working crazy hours and only seemed to connect at weekends, as we rushed through our domestic chores to make sure that we had clean clothes and a supply of frozen dinners for the next week. Sex was a thing of the past, as we were both too tired to even think about it.

We spent the Mayday Holiday weekend together, and even managed to find time to sit down and have a home cooked lunch together on the Monday. Mary was a bit distant, and after we had loaded the lunch things into the dishwasher, she suggested that we take a bottle of wine out into the garden, as she thought we needed to talk. As we drank our wine, and went on to a second bottle and then a third, we cleared a lot of crap away. We dissected our relationship, and realized that it was heading nowhere. Mary had been feeling this for a while now, though I had been too tied up in my own problems to notice this, and had decided that, basically, she wanted to bale out. She had already found a small flat near to her office, as one of the things which she found so tiring was the 20 mile drive to and from work every day. The cottage which I had inherited from my grandparents seemed ideally suited, as being in a small village near the Fosseway in Somerset it was nearly half way between her job in Bath and mine in Yeovil; in the early days we had great fun in doing it up. As we both got busier, we found less and less time for housework, and we now had a cleaning lady and a gardener who each did a few hours a week.

We spent the holiday afternoon getting quietly drunk together, reminiscing about the good times, and then getting maudlin about the deterioration in the relationship. Eventually, we staggered inside to bed, and whilst we were both too drunk for anything beyond a hug, we held each other as we drifted off to sleep.

The next day Mary started to make the arrangements to move out, and we both found time to consult lawyers. The separation would be straightforward, and as amicable as these things can be. The cottage was mine, along with my Grandparents' trust fund which still held enough to keep me in my old age if invested well. Mary had no claim on that, and there was very little that she wanted to take, as the flat to which she was moving was furnished and all she wanted were a few family heirlooms and similar items. She moved out on the Friday, without having really told me that, and just left a note saying that she was sorry that things hadn't worked out, and asking me not to contact her as it would be too painful. Looking around the house, it was as though she had never been there.

I got through the weekend, as usual a frenzy of shopping, laundry, bill paying and catching up with personal correspondence. This was before the days when email was a common means of communication, but I had a computer with a word processor and was able to send out a sort of circular letter to our friends to let them know what had happened.

The next week in work was hell on wheels, with various senior executives entering and leaving the building with facial expressions that grew grimmer and grimmer until Thursday, when suddenly they lightened. Naturally, the place was abuzz with rumour, the most popular being that the company had been sold. Sure enough, we were all told to attend a meeting in a nearby community hall, there being no space in the building big enough for such a meeting, at 5:30 that evening for an announcement. All the Big Wigs from Head Office were there, and as the Chairman approached the microphone, the room went quiet. He announced that the company had, indeed, been sold to one of its major competitors, and that whilst the Yeovil location would remain open, there would be some redundancies, as the new company didn't want to duplicate staff. I knew this was likely to mean my department, as the area of duplication was bound to include the administrative department which I headed.

Sure enough, next morning, I was called in to a meeting with my boss, one of the senior managers from head office, and, more ominously, a lady from the personnel department. They told me what I had already guessed, and went on to lay out the terms of the separation package, which weren't at all bad, in the circumstances. Since they wanted me to go straight away, I was to be given 6 months "Gardening Leave" on full pay, during which time I was debarred from making any approach to the company's clients, competitors or suppliers, together with a tax free lump sum equivalent to 2 years salary. Glowing letters of recommendation were given to me with the cheque, and I was escorted by a member of the security staff as I cleared the few personal items from my desk. I was not permitted to access my computer, but had taken the precaution of copying a lot of useful stuff in the preceding weeks, just in case, and the 5 ½ " floppy disks were safe at home containing – you've guessed it – all the contact names I needed at the company's competitors, clients and suppliers!

Clutching my carrier bag, I was escorted to the car park and as I pulled out past security, I handed in all my passes and headed north on the old roman road towards my empty home. That night, sat in front of the TV with a bottle of scotch and a glass, until finally I woke up watching an Open University programme at some stupid hour in the morning when I staggered to bed. I spent Saturday just pottering around. I went to the supermarket in Shepton Mallet, and stocked up on food and drink – especially drink – and then cleared out the accumulated crap from the last five years and took it to the landfill at Dulcote Quarry. As I drove out from that site, I decided to go into Wells for dinner, but as I dropped down the hill I saw Glastonbury Tor in the distance, and went there instead. Still restless, I bought fish and chips from Knights – probably the best chippy in the West – and drove home. Oddly enough, I slept well that night, drove to Shepton to buy papers, and spent a lazy morning reading them. I went to the village pub for lunch, and it was indication of how long it was since I had been there that not only did I not recognize any of the patrons, I didn't even know the landlord. After a mediocre lunch, and several pints of quite good beer, I left the pub when it closed at 2. I staggered home, fell into my armchair, and dozed the afternoon away. I awoke at about 7, with that nasty taste in the mouth and slightly tacky feeling that comes from a mild evening hangover. Deciding that more beer might be the solution, I made my way back down to the pub. Trade was quiet, and I got chatting with a few of my neighbours and caught up with some of the village gossip that I had missed. The biggest topic of conversation was the Travelers. Glastonbury was a mecca for the New Age travelers, and the summer usually saw an influx of rickety looking vehicles and falling apart caravans. Attracted by a variety of festivals, from the respectable Glastonbury Festival (still known to locals as the Pilton Pop Festival) through an assortment of unofficial and illegal gatherings, the West Country seemed to be a traveler magnet. I was aware of their existence, having sat and fumed in the traffic jams such festivals caused, but hadn't really given them much thought. That evening, I learned, there was a traveler site not far from the village. Apparently, a group of travelers, or "damned hippies" as one older villager, a retired army officer, called them had purchased a parcel of land which included a disused quarry and some woodland. They had managed to get mains water and electricity laid on, and the site was occupied by a varying number of itinerants. The local council seemed powerless to do anything about them, as any attempt to serve papers regarding the flagrant breach of planning regulations stumbled when attempting to identify an owner. I asked how this was possible, since I knew of the existence of the Land Registry. A local solicitor explained that not only was the land in question unregistered, "that won't be in force here for a year or two" but that the plot had been divided up into a large number of ten yard square plots, which the travelers, plus a few local speculators, kept passing around so that any records were way out of date. The lawyer seemed almost admiring of the way this was done, and after his third pint almost wistful as he opined that the government would somehow find a way to close this loophole. Whilst the general consensus seemed to be utterly condemnatory of the travelers and their way of life, "scrounging parasites", dropouts" and "the great unwashed" seemed to be the most popular epithets, I noticed that the lawyer seemed almost defensive of them. I asked him about this when we found ourselves in an oasis of quiet at the bar, getting refills. He explained that the travelers actually put quite a lot of work his way, not just the land deals but the various incidents involving unroadworthy, untaxed and uninsured vehicles that came before the local magistrates. I expressed surprise that they could afford him, and he laughingly told me not to be fooled by experiences. A number of the travelers actually held down steady jobs, quite a few made a living doing casual work, and a few claimed Social Security. 

I made my way home from the pub at closing time, feeling very much the worse for wear, and again fell asleep in the chair clutching a glass of scotch. I woke up as the sun rose, with a splitting head, and a sticky place on my shirt where the scotch had fallen when the glass slipped from my hand. For the first time in years, I had nowhere to go on a Monday morning, and feeling at a loss, I thought that perhaps a walk might clear my head. After a shower and a change of clothes, which made me feel semi human again I wandered along the lanes, breathing deeply the Maytime smells of the countryside; these seemed to consist alternatively of new mown hay, or pig slurry, depending on how the wind was blowing. Before too long, I found myself at the plot of land where the travelers had their camp, and I leaned on the gate for a while looking in. There wasn't a lot to see; the gateway led to a rough track, which wound through a few trees. I could see what seemed to be a cliff about fifteen feet high, against which I could see a couple of buses with darkened windows. There was some washing hanging on a line, and further away the skeleton of an old bus and a couple of cars on blocks; a couple of dark haired children running around laughing happily as they played in the sunshine.

I heard a voice in with an unplaceable but slightly familiar accent from behind me, "Another one come to gawp at us, are you? We're not another tourist attraction you know. Maybe we should charge, you know, put up one of those telescopes like you have at the seaside that you can put money in?" I looked round, and saw a smallish woman, in her mid to late twenties. She wore a loose fitting shirt and jeans, and pair of startlingly bright blue eyes glared at me through a mass of blonde hair. "I'm sorry," I began, "I live in the village and was out for a walk. I only just heard about you guys, and I thought I would come and see what all the fuss is about. I'm sorry if I'm intruding." She continued to glare at me. "You've come to see what all the fuss is about, have you? Well, what have you seen? Have you seen enough yet?"

I looked back at her stern face, with her slightly bushy blonde eyebrows lowered over eyes in a somewhat hostile frown. I thought for a moment, "What have I seen? Well, I've seen what looks to be a scene of some domestic harmony. Children playing in the yard, washing on the line. Almost Elysian in its tranquility." Her frown deepened and became almost scornful. "Are you taking the piss, or what?" she asked. I hastened to reassure her. "I'm sorry, that was a bit uncalled for. I do have to say, though, that I can't see what all the fuss is about. You don't seem to be doing any of us any harm." The woman's scowl didn't let up. "We've got every bit as much right as you have to be here. More, actually, on this bit, since we own it. So you're trespassing."

"Actually, I'm not doing any such thing. On this side of the gate, I'm not on your land. And even if I were on your land, I wouldn't be trespassing unless I did any damage."

"All right, so know the law. Now, why don't you just sod off back to your comfortable little cosy middle class, cottage in the country life, and leave me to get on with my free as a bird, no responsibilities scrounging parasite hippie paradise life here. Either that, or give me a hand with this bloody shopping before the butter melts." I then noticed that she was carrying several large carrier bags, three or four in each hand, which had obviously come from the village shop. "Of course," I said, "Please, let me help you."

She put down the bags, fumbled for her keys and unlocked the padlock on the gate. As I picked up her shopping, she swung the gate open, and I walked through. Somehow, I found I was till holding all the bags as she locked the gate, and with a surly, "This way" led the way down the track towards the camping area. We approached the two buses, and it was we walked towards the newer looking one, the woman called in the direction of the other,. "Lorna! Shopping!" A dark haired woman emerged from it, and followed the blonde woman into her bus. I was gestured to precede them in, and placed the bags on a table where indicated. The heat was stifling, but I was prevented from leaving by Lorna, who was between the door and me. I watched as the two women divided up the groceries. They went through the till receipt, and Lorna passed over some money before taking her things and going, calling to the two children as she went.

The woman looked at me, "You still here?" she asked. I started to reply, but she interrupted, "You don't look too good. I'll give you a glass of water, then you can go." She opened a refrigerator, and took out a 2 litre cola bottle full of water, some of which she poured into a couple of glasses. I thanked her, as she passed one to me, and I surreptitiously looked around me as I sipped the water. "She saw me doing this, and asked, "Want the guided tour, do you?" I apologized again, and finished the water. Unbidden, she poured me another glass. "Drink that. You still need it. Then you can tell all your fancy friends in the village that we aren't all bad."

"I never said you were bad. And thank you for the water. What I would like to know, though, is why you choose to live here like this? I don't have a problem with it, but if you could explain it me, I might be able to explain it to the local Tories in the village."

"I could explain, but I haven't got the time. I do, believe it or not, have a job to go to. If you really do want to know, though, you can come round later. Even better, bring a Chinese takeaway and some wine. That'll save me having to cook"

Surprised at this sudden opening up, I agreed, and after we had arranged that I would be there at 8, I left her to get ready to go to her part time job in a small office in town.

At 8 o'clock, I found myself back at the site as the sun was going down, in one hand a plastic bag full of Chinese food, and in the other another bag holding a couple of bottles wine. As I passed her bus, I could hear Lorna's voice as she read her children a bedtime story. My acquaintance of that morning was sitting in a folding chair outside her bus, nursing a glass of wine. She had changed back out her work clothes, and was wearing a cool summer outfit of a sort of smock, over a loose cotton sarong. As I approached, she got up, went in to the bus, and came back out with another folding chair and table. One more trip inside, as I set up the table, and she emerged with plates, forks, plastic glasses and a corkscrew. As we divided the food, poured the wine and began to eat, without either of us having spoken I realized I didn't know her name. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name. I'm Phil, if that helps to get the conversation started." She took a sip of wine, looked at me, said, "I expect you're expecting something all hippy and exotic like Moonflower, but it's Judy."

"Well, Judy, what brings you here to the depths of Somerset? I can't quite place your accent, but I know it isn't local. Judy smiled. "Far from it. I'm from New Zealand." I must have looked surprised because for the first time, she actually laughed. "Most people think it's South African, but it isn't. I finished my degree last summer, and I came over to Europe for a year before getting into the boring routine of job, marriage, kids, old age senility and death. I wanted to live little. I got a rail pass, and spent most of last summer backpacking round Europe, then spent the winter working in London, saving a bit of cash. I bought this bus through someone I met in New Zealand House, and now I'm spending the summer relaxing. I met up with Lorna at Easter, and we've followed each other round ever since." She went on to explain that her bus had needed some repairs, and that a contact had told her about this site. The two of them were staying there for a few days whilst Judy worked in the garage office, sorting out the accounting system to pay for the repairs. She had finished the task that day.

I asked about Lorna's story, but Judy shook her head. "You'll have to let her tell you that. It's not my place to do it. But what about you? What do you do for a crust?" Suddenly, the last year or so caught up with me, and I found myself telling Judy all about the situation with work and marriage. After rambling on for what seemed hours, I drew breath and looked across at Judy. "I'm sorry, I must have bored you rigid." She patted my hand, and said, "No, that's OK. It doesn't do you any good to bottle these things up. Come on, let's get this stuff inside before the bugs come round looking for fresh blood."

We climbed into her bus, and she bustled about rinsing plates and forks in a tiny sink before setting the wine and glasses on the table. I looked around a little more blatantly, and saw that the back of the bus held a couple of generously sized bunk beds, the upper one made up, the lower full of bags of clothing and belongings. There seemed to be a couple of built in closets before the living area, which consisted of a long sofa each side of the bus, led into the kitchen area, which contained a gas stove, a refrigerator a small table and some cabinets. The other side of the door was a curtained off area, which contained the driver's seat, and seating for 3 passengers.

Judy poured more wine, and actually smiled at me. "Life's been a bit of a shitter, lately, hasn't it?" she asked. I nodded, reached for the wine, stared at it and drank it down in one. I reached for the bottle, but she put her hand on my arm, and said, "That isn't the answer. Hold up, I want to try something." She made me lie down on the sofa, face down, and kneeling at my head she put her hands on the back of my skull. Suddenly, I felt a sort of warm tingle, almost like pins and needles. "What are you doing?" "Don't worry, it's something I picked up along the way. It's called reiki. Just relax, and we'll see what it can do for you." I lay there, as Judy put here hands back on my head. After minute, she moved them to the base of skull, and then every couple of minutes or so moved them to different positions, until she had reached my feet. She then massaged both my feet in turn – a treat which I had never experienced until then – and then quietly told me to turn over. "OK, I'm going to do the rest of you now. I'm channeling universal energy, so it may seem a little strange. You may get emotional at the end, but don't worry. Just let yourself go. You'll feel better."


The Summer of 198?? Ch. 02



Judy handled the large bus expertly as we bowled along down the old roman road towards the south coast. Being the middle of May, with the schools still in session, there wasn't too much holiday traffic and we made good time. Judy passed me a map, gave the name of a small seaside place in Dorset, and asked me to navigate.

"Lorna will just follow us. When we get near, she knows of a site that we can use. She's got a map that the regular travelers pass around, but she won't let me or anyone else see it."

We stopped at Crediton to do a supermarket shop, and by five o'clock we were within a couple of miles of our destination. Judy pulled over, allowed Lorna to pass and we followed her along the narrow lanes until we found ourselves driving down a steep hill between two rocky headlands. As we drove, tantalizing glimpses of the sea came in and out of view, until we found ourselves at a dead end. The road was blocked by a sturdy gate, leading on to a track, that was chained and padlocked shut and there was a hand painted sign warning that trespassers would be prosecuted. Lorna climbed down from her bus and asked Judy to keep an eye on her kids whilst she walked in to see what the score was with parking up.

I joined Judy as she walked across to Lorna's bus and as we climbed in, I saw two children aged about three and four dozing gently in child safety seats. Lorna returned with a key, unlocked the gate, and we drove through. Locking up behind us, we drove down an unpaved track, which led down until we came to an open area, where there were two buses and a camper van parked in a rough circle. The area was sandy, and there were sand dunes covered in sea grass, indicating that the sea was not far away. There was a water standpipe, and what looked to be a covered well.

As we swung in, a tall dark haired man with beard and ponytail waved to indicate where we should park on the other side of the area from the others. After we parked, he nodded at us, and returned to the area occupied by the other vehicles. We all climbed down, and as we stretched after the journey Lorna's children started to run around. She told them to stay close to the bus, as the man from the other group didn't seem too friendly.

Lorna unloaded a grill from her bus, and whilst we waited for it get hot enough to cook, we sat around on folding chairs. Judy took the opportunity to introduce me to Lorna, who gazed at me from below black eyebrows. Her dark hair, held back in a loose ponytail, had a few streaks of grey in it, and her suntanned face showed a few lines that seemed to more from care than laughter. She asked my story, which I told her, and this time managed to get through without becoming over emotional. Judy held my hand, and tightened her grip as I started to tell about Mary's departure. Lorna put her hand on my knee, and said, "You're welcome to stay with us for a while. Judy's a great healer, and I can see she has you down as her other project for the summer."

"Other project?"

"Yes, other project. She's working on me, too. I hope you don't mind sharing."

I glanced at Judy, and asked, "Do you use different techniques for men and women?" She looked at me blankly for a second before laughing to cover up her blush. "There may well be a fairly major difference in the way I approach things, yeah." Lorna looked quizzically at the two of us, and laughed.

"Oh, I think I've got it. Oh, well, I'm sure it'll all work out."

Lorna called her children over, and started loading the grill with burgers, sausages and chops whilst Judy and I got the salad ready. As this consisted of emptying a couple of bags of pre-washed supermarket salad into a big bowl and adding bottled dressing, it didn't take long, so we considered it our duty to ensure that the wine was suitable as we waited. Lorna called her kids over, and we enjoyed a cozy meal by the light of the setting sun. As Judy and I put the few leftovers in a garbage bag, Lorna went to put her kids to bed.

As we sat down again, Judy put her hand on my arm. "I need to give Lorna some Reiki. Do you mind baby-sitting her kids? They're tired out, so it ought to be straightforward."

"Of course," I said, "Just let me get something to read."

Lorna came out of her bus, and looked quizzically in my direction. I grabbed my book, the latest Dick Francis, and walked towards her bus. "They should be fine; they're fast asleep, as the journey really tired them out." She showed me where their drinks were, and their favorite soft toys just in case they woke up, and I sat down to read my book. Lorna's bus was laid out in a similar way to Judy's, except that the children had beds either side at the very back, and there was a curtained off area above the driver's and passenger seating area that I assumed to be Lorna's bed. A quick peek confirmed this.

An hour or so went by, and I had nodded off with the book in my lap when I woke with a start. Lorna had come back in and woken me up. I started to apologize for falling asleep "on duty" but she waved me to silence. "If either Tarquin or Matilda had woken up, you would have woken up yourself quick enough." she said, as she went to check each sleeping child. "OK, head on back to Judy, she's waiting for you."

I walked the short distance, and climbed into the bus. Judy was lying back on one of the long sofas, with her head on a pillow and her knees up. She had her hands on her chest and was breathing deeply, so I assumed she was sleeping and didn't like to disturb her. I quietly sat down on the other sofa, and resumed opened my book when she spoke.

"It's OK, you don't have to creep around. I sometimes get a bit tense after a session, and I find that this Alexander technique position really helps to relax my shoulders and back."

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked.

"You could rub my shoulders and neck for me, if you don't mind."

"You mean like a massage? I've never done that before."

"Don't worry. I'll tell you exactly what you need to do. I just need the right aromatherapy oil." Judy levered herself off the couch, and went to a cabinet from which she extracted a brown bottle. "This should do the trick - lavender oil. Ideal for stress. Right, I'm going to sit on this stool with my back to you, then I want you to put some of that oil on your hand, rub your hands together gently to warm the oil, then you're going to rub it gently into my shoulders and neck."

She pulled out and set up a folding stool; she sat with her back towards me, tied her hair up out of the way and pulled her tee shirt over her head. I poured a little oil onto my hand, set the bottle down carefully and gently rubbed my hands together. I put my oily hands on either side of her neck, and began to rub gently.

"Start in the shoulder muscles." she said, guiding my hands with her own. I started to rub a little harder, and she asked, "Can you feel the knots in the muscles there? Just work on them with your thumbs for a bit." I did as she asked, and was surprised at how quickly she seemed to relax.

"OK. Now, use a little more oil, and just gently rub my neck and shoulders."

I began to do this, noting how the oil glistened where it stuck the fine blonde down on the back of her neck. She rolled her head from side to side, and leaned forward so that could work a little further down her back. She stretched luxuriantly, and said, "For someone who claims not to have done this before, you're doing pretty well. Could you go for an all over rub, do you think?"

"If you tell me what to do."

She stood, turned to face me, and smiled. "I think all I'm going to have to do is point you in the rough direction. A good rule is that if you think you might enjoy it, try it on me."

Judy grabbed the bottle of lavender oil, and moved towards the bed. Still with her back to me, she placed the bottle down carefully before slipping off her jeans and panties and lying face down on the bed.

She looked at me, "You're a little over dressed, aren't you?"

I stripped off, and she told me, "Right. Kneel over me, straddling me if you have to. I want you to start at my feet, and then work your way up my body."

I oiled my hands, and began by lifting her left foot up until her knee was at a right angle, and began to rub. At her guidance, I used my thumb firmly on the sole of her foot, going round in small circles, and then bending each toe in turn then pulling it to stretch it. I rotated her ankle, then began to stroke the muscles of her calf. Her unshaven legs seemed strange at first – my wife, Mary, had been meticulous about waxing – but the hair on Judy's legs was much softer than on my own and seemed to enhance her womanliness. I repeated this procedure for the right foot and lower leg, and then applied more oil. I placed a hand at the back of each knee, and began to slide my hands up the backs of her thighs, my thumbs being guided by her muscle structure. I rubbed from knee to the base of her buttocks, then back, and repeated this several times. Each time I leaned a bit more of my weight onto my hands as I moved up her legs, and each time I moved further up until I was massaging her firm, pert buttocks.

More oil, and I began on her lower back. I had to shuffle forward a bit, and as my hands moved up the muscles either side of her spine, I leant forward, and my erection came into contact with her thighs. By the time I reached her shoulders, I was touching her cleft, which she playfully wiggled.

Shuffling up a little further, I began to massage each arm in turn. Gently down the upper arm, then the forearm with its delightful soft silky hairs until I reached the hand, where I repeated what I had done with the feet. Firmly rub the palm with my thumb, squeeze the flesh between her thumb and forefinger, then gently run my fingers down each of hers finishing with a gentle pull to loosen the joints. As I finished each hand, she held on to mine and gave it a brief squeeze before allowing me to let go. By this time, Judy was lying with her head on one side, her eyes shut, but her bottom raising and lowering slightly against my lower body.

"Do my thighs again." She murmured, and I shuffled backwards on my knees. As I got back, she raised both her feet, and swung her legs outside mine before putting them back on the bed. I began to resume the rub up from her knees, but this time, instead of allowing my thumbs to stay within the grooves of her muscles, as I moved up her legs my hands seemed to drift slowly downwards, deeper between her thighs. She opened her legs a little wider, and each time I moved my hands a little higher, until I could feel the damp hair at the entrance to her vagina. I continued working on her thighs, but as I reached closer to her hot, wet core, she began to raise her body, guiding my thumbs towards her entrance.

"Would you like me to do your front, now?" I asked.

I moved back so that she could swing her legs round without kicking me as she rolled over. I knelt between her legs, and began rubbing oily hands all over her tiny breasts. Her puffy nipples grew and hardened, and I noticed with interest the short, stiff, curly nipple hairs would not stick down with the oil. Leaning forward again, I ran my hands all over her chest. She raised her arms above her head, and I continued rubbing oil into the darker blonde tufts in her armpits, before moving back to her breasts. 

Shuffling back once more, I began working on the front of her thighs, working up from knee to hip, and allowing my thumbs to stray lightly into her thick blonde bush. As I gently parted the hair, her vagina came into full view, already slick and moist, with the lips parted.

I slid both hands closer, and brought my thumbs together at the entrance, and teased her slightly before inserting my right thumb into her tight, slick passage and moving the left one to diddle her clitoris. She began to move her pelvis slightly against my hands, and to caress her own breasts. As she rubbed at and pulled on her nipples, I did the same for her clitoris, which now showed bold and red from beneath its hood. I adjusted my right hand so that I had two fingers inside her, and then was able to use both thumbs on her clitoris. She put her hand on mine, and set the pace at which she wanted me to move.

We established a rhythm, and after a while I noticed that Judy's moans were getting louder. I increased my pace slightly, but she said, "Gently, please, gently."

I eased up a little from my labors, and began to look for signs that Judy was approaching orgasm, as the position I was in was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for my back. Eventually, I was in such discomfort that I had to squirm slightly to get into a more comfortable position. In so doing, I must have hit Judy's trigger, because she suddenly bucked hard against my hands, and I felt an increased wetness as her juices flowed from her rather more copiously that they had until then.

Remembering the previous night, and how she had liked it when I penetrated her as she was having her orgasm, I started to move up her body.

"No!" she gasped, "Let me get on top. Don't move your hand yet."

She pushed me onto my back, which protested slightly from discomfort as I rolled over her leg and somehow managed to keep my right hand in place as she swung herself over and knelt upright above me. She grabbed my penis with her right hand, and pulled my hand from her with her right. Grasping me with both hands, she rubbed the end against her clitoris for a stroke or two, before positioning it just so, then she sat down quickly and I was embedded to the root. She flexed her stomach muscles, and rubbed her clitoris against my pubic bone.

"Thrust up into me!" she gasped, "I'm still coming!"

I began to thrust as quickly as I could, and, despite the pain in my lower back beginning to detract from the glorious sensation in my penis, I rapidly felt myself approaching my own orgasm. As felt myself losing control, Judy gave a little cry and collapsed forward onto me. As she did so, with a final thrust, I began to spurt my essence deep inside her. Until that moment, orgasm for me had been something that I felt as a sensation solely in my penis, but this time I found myself jerking uncontrollably all over, as though my whole body existed, at that moment, for the sole purpose of expelling the life giving seed from my penis.

As I shuddered to a stop, and felt my penis start to shrink, I passed out for a moment or two from the sheer intensity of the pleasure. I woke up, to find Judy still on top of me, stroking my hair and muttering little squeaky noises in my ear. She rolled off, my limp penis slipped from her and she snuggled up to my side.

"That was amazing! I usually have a fairly low sex drive, and I've never come twice in two nights. Normally, one good shag does for me for at least a couple of weeks."

We kissed each other good night, and Judy spooned against my back as we went to sleep.

The next morning, I awoke to find Judy still snuggled up against my back, but her hand was down busily stroking my erection.

"Do you always wake up with one of these?"

"Depends on whom I happen to be in bed with"

"I'll take that as a compliment." She said with a chuckle, "Now, I'm still satiated but I can help you out."

With that she began to increase the rate at which she was stroking me, and surprisingly quickly, she brought me to what I believe is referred to now as a "Happy Ending."

We got up, and went into the tiny bathroom compartment of her bus. There was no shower, but we had a lot of fun washing each other with soapy washcloths and cold water. Before long, we were ready to face the day and emerged from the bus. Lorna and her children were sitting at the folding table, finishing breakfast.

"You two sleepy heads!" said Lorna with a knowing smile, "Here, I've made you some breakfast as I thought you might need building up."

As we tucked in to our repast, Lorna and Judy discussed their plans for the day. In essence, these consisted of a trip by the women and children into the nearest town to visit the launderette and top up Lorna's bus with fuel and water there. I was to remain in camp to deal with the chemical toilets and fill up Judy's bus with water using the standpipe and rudimentary facilities at the site – it seems that what I had taken for a covered well was a septic soak away.

As they prepared to leave, Lorna looked at Judy.

"Did you ask him?"

"No, not yet." replied Judy.

I thought I was about to be asked to do another one of the less than fun tasks that go with camp site living, but Judy just said, "We have a small favor to ask you. It'll do later."

With that, the two of them, with Lorna's children, drove away leaving me to wonder what this favor might be as I got on with my chores. 



The Summer of 198?? Ch. 03



After Judy, Lorna and her kids had driven off, I started doing my camp chores, tidying round the bus and ran a hose over to the stand-pipe in order to fill the water tank. Whilst I was there, the man from the other bus came over, lifted the cover of the septic drain-away, and emptied a chemical toilet into the pit. He stood, apparently waiting, so in order to appear neighborly I unhitched my hose in order that he could use the tap to wash out the Portapotti. He nodded thanks, and I introduced myself. He muttered the name, "Chris." and shook my hand. He was no more forthcoming than that and returned to his bus. I noticed that there were a couple of youngish women and a small child in and around his bus but they paid me no attention as I finished my tasks and settled into a folding chair to listen to the radio.

I must have dozed off, because I suddenly heard the sound of Judy's bus pulling up. She, Lorna and the children piled out of the door, the kids happy to be able to run around and let off some steam and the women folk smiling as if at some private joke. Judy asked if I had dealt with Lorna's bus and when I confirmed that I had, she pointed at her own. She didn't need to say anything, I can take a hint, and so I got out the hose and repeated the procedure with the water tanks and chemical loo.

Whilst I was doing that, the women organized their shopping, talking quietly to one another. We all finished at about the same time and Judy suggested that we all go down to the sea for a dip to freshen up. The five of us made our way through the sand dunes and found ourselves in a small, sandy bay. The children tore off their clothes and ran into the sea where they began playfully splashing each other. Unselfconsciously, Judy stripped off and ran into the water but Lorna kept her back to me as she did the same. Following suit, I too stripped and ran into the water gasping at its coldness as I ducked my head. Lorna and Judy were swimming a few yards away and we all enjoyed the refreshing cool brine against our skin. It was the first time that I had been skinny-dipping, and it seemed strangely liberating. After a few minutes, Lorna made her way out of the ocean and, keeping her back to me again, went over to the pile of clothing and pulled her loose summer dress over her head. She called her children and the three of them disappeared from view back into the dunes. Judy swam towards me, and playfully splashed me. I splashed her back and grabbed for her but she was too quick for me. We played like a couple of kids for a few minutes until Judy stood still panting for breath.

"OK – enough!" she said and made her way out of the water towards our clothes. I followed, and we both used my shirt roughly to dry ourselves  before getting dressed. We held hands as we walked back to the buses, and Judy seemed a little serious. I stopped, as did she and we turned to look at each other.

"OK – what is it? Have done something wrong?"

"No, Phil, quite the reverse. It's just that Lorna and I need a favour and we're not sure how to ask you."

"Ask away – the worst I can do is say no!"

Judy took both my hands in hers and looked me in the eyes. "We want you to stay with Lorna tonight. I'll sleep in her bus and look after the kids; Lorna will come to you in mine."

I must have looked a bit surprised, because Judy went on, "Look – I'm really, really enjoying the sex we have. However, poor Lorna needs some too. She hasn't had a man since she threw out her useless husband and I think she's missing it. Do you mind?"

My mind was in a turmoil, as nothing like this had aver happened to me before. "Not if you don't." I said and Judy stood on tiptoe and kissed me. "Just be nice to her," she said, "She's had a rough time. And don't say anything when we get back. We'll just let nature take its course.

When we got back, Lorna was busy at the grill getting ready to cook the kids' dinner. They ate their food and were soon dozing in their chairs. As Lorna put them both to bed in her bus, Judy and I started getting the food ready for our meal – lamb chops had been marinating for a while and whole corncobs were wrapped in tin foil ready. Soon, a delicious smell of roasting meat was wafting from the grill and Judy poured some wine into three glasses as Lorna came out to join us. I noticed that she had changed into a clean dress and we listened to the BBC radio news as the meal cooked and Lorna prepared a bowl of mixed salad.

We ate and drank wine, then, when the food was all consumed, we sat in the cool of the long summer evening listening to a play on the radio and sipping at our wine. We had just started the third bottle when, in the approaching darkness, the play finished and Lorna got up to check on her children. Judy turned to me, passed me the wine bottle and my glass and said, "OK, you go into the bus and wait for Lorna. Don't drink too much whilst you're waiting, she won't be long."

I climbed into the bus, sat on the settee and picked up my book. I had barely picked up the thread of the story again before I heard the door open and in came Lorna, holding her glass of wine. I put down my book and started to stand up but she waved me back down.

"No need to play the gentleman," she said, "Let's just get comfy and get to know each other."

She sat at the other end of the settee and we eyed each other over the tops of our wine glasses. We both began to speak at the same time, and laughed awkwardly. "You first," she said so I told her the story of how Mary and I had split up. She sighed, "At least it seems to have been amicable, as painful as it obviously was."

I looked quizzically at her, indicating that it was her turn. Slowly and falteringly at first, she told me her story. She had, quite literally, married the boy next door. She and her future husband, both being only children, had grown up together being almost inseparable until they both went to different universities. Their paths crossed when they were home for vacations and after they both graduated, they decided to spend the summer traveling before they began job hunting. They bought rail cards, and merrily backpacked round Europe, their almost brother and sister relationship getting nearly back to the closeness of their younger years. That had all changed one night in Italy, when they were sleeping under the stars on a Tuscan hillside. Both being cold, they had zipped their sleeping bags together and huddled together for warmth. One thing had led to another, and before either of them knew it, they were making love.

Strangely, the next morning, that incident had opened up a slight rift between them as if both were slightly ashamed of what had happened. They continued their journey, but the lovemaking wasn't repeated and by the time they got back to England their relationship towards one another had cooled.

Three weeks after their return, Lorna realized that her period was late. Feeling increasingly panicky until the next one also failed to arrive, she eventually bought a pregnancy testing kit. When the test proved positive, her heart sank, and she didn't know what to do. Her father heard her crying and, on seeing the test kit, immediately guessed what was wrong. Grim faced he asked who the father was, although he had already guessed. Upon being told, he disappeared and Lorna guessed he had gone next door.

Both sets of parents got together, and somewhat bewildered by the speed of events, she found herself married to Matthew. He had just started as an Articled Clerk in a local law firm and immediately after the wedding, they moved into a tiny flat near to his office. They settled into a routine, although the coolness that had developed between them never really went away. Despite that, they had their moments and had a second child when the first was a year old.

After the second child, Lorna had post partum depression and she and her husband seemed to drift further apart. He began to make excused to stay out late, and on a couple of occasions was so late home that Lorna was fast asleep when he stumbled in. She began to wonder if he was having an affair, but nothing could prepare her for the day this was confirmed.

She and her husband were both going out – he to some office function and she on a girls' night out. Her mother was babysitting, and despite the fact that she had been looking forward to it, her evening failed to lift her spirits. She left the pub early to go home, and as she opened her front door, she could hear the sound of two people engaged in sexual activity. She peered into the living room to see her mother vigorously screwing her husband on the fireside rug. They reached mutual orgasm as she watched but the edge was taken off it when she vomited so violently that it went all over them. She had seen red and flown into a violent rage, which culminated in her husband and her mother finding themselves naked on the street. She bolted the door and gained some little satisfaction when the Police arrived, responding – she later found out – to a neighbour's shocked phone call.

She was presently in the process of divorcing her husband, and neither of her parents was speaking to her. She had sold everything that she and her husband had owned and bought the bus and was spending as long as it took to recover her sense of self worth before returning to face reality.

She told her story in a matter of fact sort of way, gazing blankly into the middle distance. As she stopped, she looked at me with a weak smile.

"There you are. How pathetic is that? My husband prefers my Mother to me."

"Are they still together?"

"No, it was just a fling for her. She has then all the time. Dad blames me for this one, though. Said that if I couldn't hold on to my husband it must be my fault if he strayed."

Tears came to her eyes, and I held out my arms. She shuffled her buttocks down the settee and leant against me. I put my arms around her, and she cried gently onto my shoulder for a minute or two. As she quieted down, she nestled closer and put her arms round me. I stroked her back, and she raised her head and looked at me, her mouth open slightly. I leant forward and kissed her, gently, and she kissed me back. I kissed her again, and she purred, "That was nice."

I kissed her again, and felt her small, sharp tongue twitching against mine. I continued stoking her back, and she shuffled herself into a more comfortable position. This brought one of my hands round to her front, and I found that it was in contact with her soft breast. She quickly put her hand on mine, and pressed it to her. Her breasts were a bit larger than Judy's were, but much softer and sagged slightly. However, as my hand caressed it I could feel the nipple begin to harden. Lorna began to move her hands over my back, and one came round to my front and slid under my shirt. As I continued to stroke her breast, she ran her hand over my chest.

Our kiss became more passionate, and I moved my hand down from her breast across her tummy and onto her thigh. She pushed me back, and swung her leg over so that as I sat on the sofa, she knelt astride me. My face was on a level with her breast, and I fumbled with the hem of her dress to start to pull it upwards. She sat back a little to help me, and between us, we got her dress over her head. She was now wearing just her sheer, black panties as she sat back up and leaned slightly forwards to take her nipple in my mouth. I alternated between her breasts, lightly biting each nipple in turn as she put her hands on the back of my head.

She began rubbing her panty-covered mound against my growing erection, and I broke of out kiss to suggest that might be more comfortable on the bed. Lorna nodded, and scampered up the short wooden steps as I quickly removed my shirt, shoes socks and trousers. She raised the covers as I climbed the steps, and I slid between the sheets beside her. We immediately began kissing again and groping at each other's bodies. I slid my hand up her thigh, and she opened her legs so that I could feel the damp spot on her panties and she reached for my penis. Simultaneously, we pulled off out underwear and resumed our attacks on each other's genitalia. I could feel that the coarse hairs against my hand were wet, and I could smell her arousal as I parted her pubic hair to reach for the hot, wet entrance to her. Two fingers slid in, and my thumb caressed her clitoris as I moved my head between her breasts and slowly kissed my way down her stomach. We flung the bedclothes aside as my lips passed over her black bush, and as my tongue touched her clit, Lorna twitched and gave a little yelp.

I began to lick at her, whilst sliding my fingers slowly in and out, tasting the salt from her juices as well as the salt from the sea from he dip in the ocean earlier. She pulled my head, and said, "Please, it's been so long. I just need to feel you inside me." I slid myself up her body, and positioned myself between her thighs. She grabbed my penis and aimed it as I thrust it forward; effortlessly, it sank into her wetness and as it went in the hilt, she began moving her hips with increasing speed until with a small scream she reached her climax. She continued to whimper as I began to pump rapidly in and out of her until very soon I pushed as deep into her as I could and ejaculated powerfully into her.

She held me tightly as my penis gave its last few convulsions, and then I rolled us over onto our sides, where we held each other as we calmed down and got our breath back. My shrinking penis slid from her and felt cold as it dried in the cool night air. We reached for the covers, I rolled onto my back and with Lorna tucking her head into my shoulder, we fell asleep.

Hours late, the early sun shining into the bus woke up both up. Lorna seemed a little startled to find herself in my arms, but soon settled into a comforting cuddle. "Thank you," she said, "Last night was great. It's the first time since college that I've been with anyone except my husband and the first time for quite a while." As she spoke, her hand stroked my stomach and soon found my morning erection.

"Is that for me?" she asked and I turned slightly and kissed her. She pulled me over on top of her, and I once again slid into her. This time, we moved slowly against each other to start with, exchanging small kisses that grew more passionate as our pace increased. I varied my motion, moving my hips in a circular motion as she thrust back up against me and before long we were both wallowing in orgasm.

We went back to sleep, and were still entangled a while later when we heard Judy knocking on the window announcing breakfast.

As we quickly washed ourselves in the tiny powder room, Lorna kept glancing at my groin until she giggled. I raised an eyebrow, and she said, grabbing my penis, "I was about to say I don't know what got into me, and then I saw what did!" 

Chuckling, we got dressed and went outside to where Judy had a pot of coffee waiting, and Lorna's children were eating breakfast cereal. Lorna went over to Judy, gave her a quick hug and said, "Thanks for the loan, Jude. I think it did the trick."

We sat together in companiable silence, and then Lorna said that she wanted to go into the nearby town to buy some beach toys for her kids. Judy said that she wanted go too, as she had some errands to run and shopping to do. I opted to stay and guard the bus. As they were almost ready to leave, Chris came over from the far side with a large jerry can in his hand. It seemed that he was out of diesel for his bus, and asked if he could ride with them into town to buy enough to be able to drive the bus as he and his family were leaving the next day. He hopped in with them, and they drove out, leaving me to my own devices for the day.