Making Out Undercover

Alex and I slipped off to our favourite country pub for lunch today, we deserved it after the shitty week we just had. The weather was grey and wet but somehow the English countryside looks good whatever the weather.

I was quite happy about the day being wet and nasty because the carpark at the rear of the pub was quite empty, which means quick service. We were both ready to eat their hearty fare by the time we got there and you do get a plate full.

Inside and seated were a group of avid cyclists and a family of people who looked like they enjoyed their food if you know what I mean. Lol We took the seat in the window which allows you to see everyone in the small but friendly room.

Our food arrived and we started to eat but within minutes I was finding it difficult to keep my face straight. This sound like a line I just made up but one of the cyclists was talking about cycling abroad and then went on to say “It’s not that I abuse my tent”.

This tickled me and I had to purse my lips to stop the smile breaking out. They were looking right at me from the back settle, although the kinky guy had his back to me. The conversation didn’t get much better from there, it went steadily downhill. I could not think of a worse person to be lumbered with at a party. 🙂

As I eat I found myself slipping off in to my youth and a spur of the moment camping trip I took with my boyfriend at the time and his best mate. It was decided over the last pint in the pub that we should all head for the lakes first thing in the morning. That was when we sobered up.

The guy had a three berth. Do you call them berths? It was a triangular construction with a zip up the front to exit, ho heirs and graces, just somewhere to shelter from the wind and rain. We pitched up by a stream as I recall, not on a campsite just somewhere which looked picturesque and of course no allowed.

We didn’t know at the time being young and naïve that you can’t just set up tent anywhere. After pitching the tent we walked the half mile or so to the village we came through earlier and spent the night with the locale enjoying their fine ales.

Using a torch to locate the tent we all piled in after closing time. I can’t recall which time of year it was, I think it could have been Spring, still cold at night. In the dark we removed various garments, just enough to keep ourselves warm in the three sleeping bags which totally filled the void.

I left on my panties and a t-shirt to keep the cold off my shoulders in the night. Snuggled in the middle of the two guys I would benefit from their heat. It didn’t occur to me that the threesome was anything other than an innocent act to keep warm.

My boyfriend slipped off in to an ale driven sleep quite quickly, whilst I have always taken time to drift off. The guy to my right was still occasionally repositioning himself for comfort. As I started to drift off I became aware of warm breath on the back of my neck. In my sleepy haze I didn’t think anything of it.

Then the hand worked its way in to my sleeping bag and made it’s way over my arm to cup my loosely supported breast. Back then I didn’t have large boobs and wore lacy non supportive bras.

It continued to massage my breast and I was becoming quite aroused by it, fuelled by my semi conscious state. The hand slipped under the cup of my bra and started to squeeze my nipple making firm and hard.

This roused me and I realised in the darkness of the tent that I was turned to face my boyfriend, therefore the hand wasn’t his. I played along with the sleepy runtime and enjoyed every moment of him groping me. It didn’t, couldn’t go any further and eventually we both slipped off to sleep.

The following morning I didn’t say anything and that is exactly how I left it. My naughty secret and him not realising I even knew. 😉