Way back in the late 1960s, when computer memory was measured in hundreds of bits rather than hundreds of megabytes, my folks often used to take my sister and I camping for our holidays. In fact, because it was so cheap, we'd often end up having two periods away during the school summer holidays. The English Lake District was one of our favourite haunts. My parents had quite a circle of friends in those days; one such was a couple I was supposed to call Aunty Jenny and Uncle Dick. I never did get used to the idea, insisting that since we were unrelated, I should use their surnames instead.
One year we all went off to a campsite on the tip of Lake Ullswater, near Pooley Bridge. Normally, Jenny and Dick would have brought their only son, Andrew, with them. But he was several years older than my sister and I, and he was getting 'into' aircraft. (I think he was away with the ATC that week). There were two 4-berth frame tents: one for our family, and the other for Jenny and Dick. We were about 11 or 12 at the time, and after we were safely tucked up in our sleeping bags, the grown-ups would usually go over to their tent and start boozing! My sister could sleep through anything, but I often stayed awake, enduring the inane laughter of the grown-ups and wishing someone had invented sound-proof canvas!
About 10:30pm, I heard the zip of their tent open and the voices of my mother and Jenny getting closer. They unzipped our tent, came in and lit the camping 'Gaz' light. I could only hear the odd word as they were trying to speak more softly than the men who seemed to be getting even louder now, in the other tent. I glanced over to my sister, but she was completely dead to the world. Just then the zip to our inner tent - the sleeping berths - started to open. I shut my eyes and started to breathe very slowly and shallowly. "Ah, look", I could hear Jenny gently say, "They're both fast asleep, bless 'em". The zip closed and the low murmuring continued.
The Gaz light cast shadows on the canvas of the inner tent, and I was able to see that my mother was opening her suitcase and taking out a dress. They were speaking softly and I could still only hear the occasional word. "Oh....gorgeous....on?". Although I couldn't make out what was being said, I could see in the shadows that Jenny was holding something up to the light. She then handed the dress back to my mother and then Jenny's shadow appeared to be unbuttoning her blouse. My eyes nearly popped out of my head! I shuffled out of my sleeping bag, as quietly as I could, and moved closer to the bottom of the inner tent, where the zip was. It wasn't completely closed - there was a hole half an inch or so wide (we had inches in those days!) - and so I did my best to peep through it.
By now she already had her blouse off and was pulling down her slacks. Seconds later she was standing there, three feet away, in only her bra and panties. She was a tall, elegant woman with an incredible figure, and I had often fantasized about her. One of them was to imagine myself having been shrunk to only 6 inches long. Jenny would find me and, seeing no-one around, would then push me feet first between her legs, and insert me all the way in. I don't know why she would do that, she just did, okay? I would have gone missing, and only she knew where I really was. Everyone would look for me, but my disappearance would remain a complete mystery. Over the weeks her fanny juices would gradually digest my miniature body alive until there was nothing left of me. (I was quite an advanced 11 year-old).
She soon had on the dress even though it was much too large for her; my mother was shorter, but didn't have Jenny's slim figure. I was having some difficulty seeing all of this because only a foot or so from my peephole, outside the inner tent, was the slops bucket. Of course, during the cold nights, the 'slops' bucket took on a different role: the latrine block was several hundred yards away!
Jenny soon had the dress off and then picked up her blouse and began to button it up. My free peepshow was nearly over - or so I thought.
They were still chatting and giggling quietly, and she seemed to be slightly anxious, hopping slightly. She seemed to ask my mother something, my mother was nodding in response. Then something happened I will never forget.
Jenny took her panties off, came over to the slops bucket, took the lid off and positioned her generous backside over it. My heart was pounding. All this was happening within inches of my face! I strained to get a better view. She was squatting over the orange plastic bucket, not sitting on it, and I had my first close-up view of the female adult pussy! From that angle, looking up, it seemed enormous. At first it was just a mass of brown, curly hair. But then something really scary happened. As if by magic, a dark crevice appeared in the middle of all this hair. It grew bigger, the two thick hairy lips parted to reveal a pair of thin pink flap-like objects dangling down. A fraction of a second later they seemed to just disappear and a vertical column of light appeared from where they'd been. A loud hissing sound accompanied the spectacle as the light from the Gaz lamp shone through the column of piss, making it silvery. This seemed to go on for hours (in practice it was probably only a few seconds). Wow!
As soon as it was all over, she stood up, replaced her panties and dressed. They continued to chat for a few minutes, then my mother turned the light off and they both left, zipping the tent up afterwards. They walked over to the other tent and re-joined the men who were still punctuating the night air with raucous laughter. Their party continued; and so did mine!
My sister was still fast asleep, so I grabbed my torch, pulled myself fully out of the sleeping bag and quietly unzipped the inner tent. Once outside, I took the lid off the bucket and shone the torch in. It was about three inches deep, and it had been completely empty before Jenny's addition. I pushed my face over the bucket and took a deep breath. I didn't know why, but the smell was wonderful. I must have kneeled there for ages, breathing the smell in and out, imagining that Jenny was forcing me to do it as punishment for being naughty.
Then a strange desire took over. I put my finger into the liquid, and it was warm. I don't know why, but I wasn't expecting that. I pulled it out and shone the torch on it, glistening in the night air. Without hesitation I plunged it into my mouth and licked. Disappointingly, I couldn't really taste anything. I tried again: still nothing. I desperately wanted to be able to taste it, and was wondering if I should actually get my mug and - well - drink a little of it.
But I decided this was very naughty, decisively replaced the lid, and went back into the inner tent. I was also getting cold! I snuggled back down into my sleeping bag and turned off the torch. I didn't really know what was going on, but I felt very strange, all hot and bothered. I knew that next morning it would be my job (as usual) to take the slops bucket up to the latrine block and empty it. For once I really didn't mind!
And so began a lifelong interest. - The End -
John Martin Stories