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Nigel Pickering was an average middle class English lad. At the age of 19, he had opted to take a “gap year” between leaving school and going up to Oxford to study Law as his father had done, but was none too sure about what to do. His parents, who were, after all, being invited to fund the apparent continuation of Nigel’s dependency on them for some time, were keen that it should be something that would get him well away from the narrow world of academia. Nigel’s father suggested that a Short Service Commission in the army might well be a good thing – apart from anything else, it would be paid. His mother, however, was not keen. The British army, she pointed out, had gained such a reputation as an efficient peacekeeping force in Northern Ireland that it was now being invited to carry out more and more of this sort of thing in an assortment of unfriendly parts of the world.
Nigel’s father was bemoaning this situation in his club as he shared a bottle of moderately good claret with a colleague from his barristers’ chambers. His colleague thought for a moment, before suggesting a possible solution. An old school friend of his ran a small hotel in Scotland. It was moderately successful, but he needed somebody to help out. He couldn’t afford to pay union rates, but it would probably suit young Nigel.
Thus it was that Nigel found himself packed onto a train heading towards Edinburgh, with a couple of bags containing his clothes, his walkman and tapes and a few books. Once separated from his parents, he was able to go into the station bookstore to lay in a small supply of porno magazines, to keep himself occupied out in the middle of nowhere.
As the train carried him inexorably northwards, Nigel gazed out of the window and wondered what his six months at the hotel would be like. It had been a struggle to convince his parents that at least half his gap year should be spent traveling, and the deal was that his father would match anything he had managed to save from his earnings in the “working” half of his gap year to fund the “travel” half. He knew little about the hotel where he was going, save that it was a small place out in the country, run by Mr Ferguson and his wife and catering mainly to the outdoor pursuits clientele in the various seasons. There was also a small campsite next to the hotel, and Nigel’s main tasks would be running that for the summer months, and then helping out in the main hotel in the autumn through Hogmanay, after which the place closed down until Easter. He knew that the Fergusons had a daughter, slightly older than him, who helped out during her university vacations. His mind dwelt a little on the thought of the daughter, as, like most boys of his age, he was obsessed with the opposite sex. Unfortunately, having been to an all boys’ school, he hadn’t had much opportunity to mix with girls, and was, to his continuing frustration and disappointment, still a virgin.
Changing trains at Edinburgh, Nigel continued by local train and bus until he reached the nearest public transport link with his destination. This being in the days when mobile phones were in their infancy, he went to the familiar red phone box to call the Hotel. Upon being told that it would take only twenty minutes to reach him, Nigel sat in the bus shelter watching the light summer rain sweep in waves across what he thought must be hills, if he had been able to make them out properly. Eventually, a Ford Transit minibus with the name “Fergusons’ Hotel” painted on the side up, and a cheery voice called, “Are you Nigel? Jolly good, put your things in the back and hop in.” He put his bags in the back, and climbed in beside the driver, who introduced herself. “Hello” she said with a slight Scottish accent, “I’m Mary Ferguson, Alec would have come himself, but he’s getting the bar ready for this evening. I need to get back and get on with the dinner.”
As they drove along the hilly, winding roads, Nigel quietly eyed Mary. Slightly plump, with short reddish blond hair she seemed to be in her early to mid thirties. Nigel was a bit disappointed, as he though that this meant the daughter would be in her early teens. She wore a plain white blouse and jeans, and drove carefully, explaining that sheep often strayed onto the road. She told Nigel that the hotel stood in its own grounds, and had been a small hunting lodge until a forced sale to pay death duties. It had passed through a number of hands, until her husband had used an inheritance to buy it and turn it into an hotel. They had been there for a number of years, slowly building up a reputation and clientele of regular customers who kept coming back. The campsite was a new venture, to try to maximize profits, and it would be Nigel’s task to see to it that it ran efficiently. He would be required to collect and account for all the fees paid by the campers, keep the bathroom and shower block clean and enforce the few rules and regulations, mostly relating to fire regulations. His accommodation would be a small bed-sit and bathroom flat over the newly Etlik Escort built shower block.
The minibus slowed to a halt, and turned into a driveway bearing the same sign as that shown on the side of the bus, and he saw a medium sized grey building loom through the drizzle. Mary drove round the side, and pulled up beside a gate leading into what was obviously, from the presence of a couple of orange and blue tents, the campsite. Mary helped Nigel with his bags to the shower block, gave him a key, and told him to go in and get settled, and then come through to the main hotel for a bite to eat when he was ready. “You’ll be tired from your journey, so we won’t put you to work until the morning.” she said with a smile as she drove the bus round to the back of the hotel and out of his sight.
Nigel unlocked the side door, and carried his bags upstairs. Dropping them on the floor, he surveyed his home for the next six months. A light and airy room met his gaze, with a sofa, television & VCR, cabinet with refrigerator, coffee table, large wardrobe and a queen size bed. There was a white tiled bathroom, with a washstand and bath/shower. Nigel stretched, tired from his journey, and fetched his toilet bag from his bag and had a quick shower before putting on a clean shirt before running through the rain to the hotel. Finding his way through to the bar, he saw a tall overweight man with thinning blond polishing glasses. “You must be Nigel. Welcome, welcome. I’m sure you’re tired out, so we’ll just give you a bite and a drink and see you in the morning. Would you like a beer or a whisky?”
During the year or so that Nigel had been old enough to drink legally, he had never really taken to spirits so he asked for beer. Alec called through to the kitchen, and began chatting to Nigel. He ran over much the same stuff that Mary had on the journey, but Nigel listened politely as he sipped his beer and ate up the bangers and mash that had been placed before him. A few guests began to drift into the bar as he finished, and Alec waved goodnight to him as he headed out and back to his flat. “Breakfast in here at 8” were the last words he heard as headed out.
The next morning, feeling refreshed after a good night’s sleep, Nigel got up. He took a quick shower, made his bed and was in the hotel at 10 to 8. Mary was laying up a few tables, and told him to sit at the bar whilst she got his breakfast ready. He looked around the oak paneled room with its hunting prints and stags’ heads on the walls, and looking back behind the bar saw a girl aged about 20 come through from the kitchen bearing a tray laden with the “full fried” breakfast. She smiled as she placed the tray down, and unloaded in front of him the pot of tea, the bowl of porridge with jug of cream, and the covered plate that he later discovered held bacon, fried bread, eggs, ham, tomatoes, mushrooms and black pudding. “I’ll be back with toast and marmalade later” she said. “You must be Nigel? I’m Dawn. I’m Alec and Mary’s daughter.” Even if she hadn’t told him, he would have guessed her parentage. Of middling height, she had her father’s fair hair and her mother’s full curves. As Nigel finished his breakfast, Dawn came out and said to him, “Mam says that you’re to find your way all round the camp site, then later when I’m done serving breakfast I’m to show you anything you couldn’t find, and then to show you round the hotel.”
The sunny weather was a marked improvement on the day before, and Dawn took him round. There wasn’t a lot to see, and Nigel’s duties would mainly consist of keeping the place clean and tidy, taking the money, and helping out campers as they need. She explained that the main reason he was needed was that the license required someone to be resident on the site. His day and evening off would be Tuesday, she told him. He asked why a Tuesday, and she replied that it was the night when the cinema was open in the nearest town.
Nigel soon settled into a routine, and before he knew it was Monday night, and as he ate his dinner Alec asked him what he was going to do on his day off. Not having really thought about it, Nigel gave a non-committal answer. “We can’t have a young lad just sitting around on his day off!” exclaimed Alec. He summoned Dawn from the kitchen, and asked her what her plans were. She said that she would do what she always did – drive into town for lunch, go to the shops, go to the pictures, perhaps the club and then come home. Alec suggested that she take Nigel along, and she hummed and hawed a bit before smiling and agreed. “You be ready at 11” she told him.
The next day, Nigel dressed in his best jeans and a sports shirt, and met Dawn in the car park at the rear of the hotel. She led him to a five-year-old Honda Civic, and they drove into town. All the way she chattered on about how nice it was to get away for a day as between school and working in the hotel, she didn’t get much of a break. “And when I do” she said doggedly, “I have a Keçiören Escort damned good time!” She parked in the center of town, and she led the way confidently into a pub for lunch, from where, with bangers and mash under their belts, they set out an hour later. Dawn was wearing a light summer dress, and as the wind blew against it Nigel could occasionally see the outline of her underwear. They cruised the few shops, buying nothing, and they found themselves in a small park. Here, they sat and people watched, speculating on the background of the people who they saw, until it was time to head for the cinema. They got there a good hour before the film was scheduled to start, but still there was a queue starting to form. “It’s because they only show one night a week” explained Dawn. Nigel didn’t like to tell her that he had already seen the film, a suspense thriller, several weeks before in London, but he sat through it and felt Dawn’s hand creep into his during the first scary part. She made no effort to remove it, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to remain holding hands as the emerged into the twilight that was what passed for night in the summer that far north.
As they walked back through the park, Dawn suddenly stopped, and said, “I sometimes go to a club now, but I feel more like going home. Is that alright with you?”
“Fine” replied Nigel, and they walked, still hand in hand, to her car. She removed her hand from his as she found her keys, and was quiet as they drove back to the hotel.
As they pulled in to the car park, they could see the lights on the bar and a low rumble of conversation drifted out. Dawn sighed, “I don’t want to go in there and be sociable. Can I come and hang out with you for a while until it gets quiet?”
“Sure” said Nigel and they went up to his room. “Do you want to watch another movie?” He indicated the VCR and the small supply of tapes that he had brought. Not surprised when she selected another suspense thriller, they settled onto the sofa, and once again her hand sought his. Before long, she shuffled herself around, and suddenly Nigel found that he had his arm around her shoulders, and she was nestled against him. As the movie ended, she looked up at him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Why haven’t you tried to kiss me?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps I was worried you wouldn’t like it, and I’d get my face slapped.”
She grinned, “Well, you won’t know until you try, will you.”
Nigel leaned forward to kiss her, but having closed his eyes, he missed her lips and caught the end of her nose. He opened his eyes, and went to correct his mistake but was rather put off when she chuckled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. You haven’t done this much, have you?”
Nigel blushed, and said nothing. Dawn pulled back from him a little, and looked him in the eyes. “Are you a complete virgin?” she asked, “Never been kissed, even?” Nigel nodded, glumly, looked at the floor. Dawn grabbed his chin, and raised it until he was looking into her eyes. “We could have so much fun teaching you.” She whispered, “If you’d like that.” Nigel nodded, and Dawn kept looking into his eyes for as long as she could until eye contact was lost and lip contact made. Nigel sank back onto the sofa, horribly conscious of his burgeoning erection against Dawn as she lay against and partially on to of him. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he held the one around Dawn’s shoulder against her back, and placed the other on her side. She reached for it, and moved it up towards her breast. He fondled her brassiere cup, feeling it’s lacy texture through her thin dress, and sensed the growing of a small nub under his palm that he realized must be her nipple. He began using the hand behind her back to unzip her dress, and when he reached her bra strap, he fumbled to undo it. Dawn pulled away again, and giggled. “My God, you are a virgin! Come on – let’s get out of these clothes. I’m in a hurry for it if you aren’t.” She stood up, let the dress fall to the floor, and reached behind her to undo her bra. “Come on, don’t just sit there. You have to show me yours as well.”
Nigel stood, and took off his shirt with shaking fingers, and began fumbling with his belt buckle. Soon, he was wearing just his Y fronts and gazing as Dawn finally removed her bra, and let it fall. She allowed him to gaze in awe at her C cup breasts resting lightly on her chest, and the slight curve of her tummy as it set off the broad hips and the private area still concealed by her panties. Both breathing heavily now, they embraced, and Dawn maneuvered them around until they both fell on the bed. Nigel felt his heart pounding as he and Dawn resumed their tongue duel, and their hands roamed over each other’s bodies. His hand found one of her breasts, and he clumsily groped at it. He broke off from the kiss, and moved his mouth down to her breast, and taking her nipple between his lips, he nibbled at it and felt it change Kızılay Escort in texture as it hardened and grew. He heard her whisper, “I have got two of those, you know.” and moved to the other breast. As he alternated between her nipples, he felt her take his hand and guide it down across her stomach. He could take a hint, and slid his fingers under the elastic of her panties and into the coarse hair that he found there. Moving on, he felt a slippery dampness as his middle finger came into contact with her outer labia, and slid effortlessly inside her.
Dawn gasped, and groaned as her hips worked against Nigel’s hand causing his finger to slide in and out. Asking him to, “Wait a bit” she moved away briefly, and Nigel felt coolness as her juices on his finger evaporated. Dawn slid down her panties, and lay on her back with her legs slightly spread. Nigel quickly removed his own underwear, and took his place back at her side. They kissed again, and Nigel put his hand back into her light brown bush, but felt her arm beneath him pushing him up and over to go on top of her. As he rolled over, she spread he legs and he found himself above her, his penis squashed against the wiry hair on her pubis. “OK, now raise your hips a bit, and let me guide you.” He raised his hips, and felt her hot hand grasp his penis and guide it to her entrance. “Now, just push gently.” As he did so, he whimpered in joy as he felt his penis slide slowly into her hot, slippery passage. Once in up to the hilt, he paused and as he felt her move beneath him, he withdrew a few inches and then pushed back. “That’s it, you’re getting it.” He heard, as completely losing control he made two more quick thrusts before he found himself ejaculating wildly deep inside her. As he did so, she put her arms and legs round him, stroked his hair and muttered endearments into his hair.
As he calmed down, and his erection subsided somewhat, Nigel rolled off Dawn and lay back beside her. “I’m sorry – that was too quick for you, wasn’t it?”
“Don’t worry, it was your first time. It was bound to be. Just give me your hand again.”
She put his hand back to where his penis had been a minute before, but instead of letting him put his finger inside her she guided his fingertips to the small nodule at the entrance.
“There. That’s the clitoris. Just do this to it.”
She guided his hand to show him what to do, and pulled his mouth back to her breast as he pleasured her with his fingers. It wasn’t long before her thighs clamped shut on his hand, and she shuddered as her own orgasm hit her, and they parted and lay on their backs next to each other regaining their breath.
“So, how was it for your first time?”
“Amazing! But shouldn’t we have used a, you know, . . . “
Dawn laughed, and told him that her mother had put her on the pill as soon as she reached the age of consent, as she knew that kids would experiment. She didn’t want Dawn to make the same mistake that she had, falling pregnant at 18. “She told me that she was lucky, as my Dad stayed with her and they’re still together, but she felt I should have the option.” said Dawn, as she got up from the bed, telling Nigel to lie still. She came back from the bathroom with a damp washcloth, and cleaned both her own and Nigel’s parts off before lying back down again. She leaned over, and kissed him, and he felt his penis stirring. Dawn smiled as she felt it, and gazing fixedly at it, she slowly stroked it back to full erection. “There’s lots more we can do this summer, but we’ll just try a couple of things before I have to go.” With that, she shimmered down the bed, and took his penis in her mouth and began to rub her tongue over the head whilst she rubbed the shaft. When he was thoroughly lubricated from her saliva, she swung her body over his and looked down at him as she rubbed the end of his penis against her clitoris. Holding him in place there with one hand, she caressed her breasts with the other, tweaking her nipples until they, once again, became as red as raspberries. Slightly adjusting her body, she inserted his penis into herself, and gently used her thigh muscles to sink down until she was fully impaled. Nigel could do nothing but watch as he saw her almost blonde pubes mesh with his darker ones, separate until he could see most of his penis, and then mesh together again. After a minute or two, she sank right down, and one by one moved her legs so that they were on either side of his torso, feet under his armpits. She leaned forward, grabbed his shoulders, and told him to sit up. As he did so, he seemed to go even deeper inside her as they wrapped their arms around each other, and she used tiny movements of her lower body to stimulate herself against him. “Do you like this?” she asked, “It’s the position that they used to call Courtly Love, as the woman gets all the pleasure. Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn.”
With that, she increased her movements against him, and he found that all the movement was concentrated on her clitoris, with little movement for his sensitive area. Before long, he sensed her movements becoming less and less controlled, and it was his turn to hold her body close and whisper endearments as she blasted into orgasm. As she did so, he felt himself began spurting a much reduced emission from the last time and he spent inside her as her own movements subsided.
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