Camping with Anna Ch. 03

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It is day two of our camping trip and Anna and I are somewhere near Port Fairy on the Great Ocean Road in Victoria, Australia.

We have spent the previous night at Bridgewater Bay and this morning, after a brief encounter with the police, who booked us for camping illegally – now really, I ask you – we had packed our tent, loaded the car and were on the road again.

Little did we know, as we cruised happily along the highway, that we were about to have another brush with the Law.

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All characters in the story are over eighteen but if you are not 18, or if you are offended by sexually explicit material, you should stop reading now, close this page, and go and do something else.

Ingenue

* * * * *

Fortunately, Anna was driving when I heard the siren and turned to see the red and blue flashing lights of the police car behind us.

It was day two of our trip, and we were on the road somewhere between Bridgewater Bay and Port Fairy, two of the small but very beautiful beachside towns on the Shipwreck Coast in Victoria.

Anna glanced in my direction. “Shit Catherine, what can they want? I can’t have been speeding.”

She was right of course. Anna was driving my car, a white, thirty-year-old Volkswagen Beetle, and there was no way she could have been doing anything like the speed limit – it was a physical impossibility unless we’d been going down hill with a tail wind, which we weren’t.

I leant over to have a quick look at the speedometer that indicated just a touch over eighty kilometres an hour. Even eighty, I thought, might have been a bit on the optimistic side.

“I’ve no idea, Anna. Guess you’d better just pull over and see.”

She’d already put on the indicator and was slowing down as she prepared to pull up by the side of the road.

It was November 1997 and we’d both just completed our final year at school. We’d skipped the traditional end-of-year ‘schoolies week’ celebrations and left Adelaide, where we both lived, to go on a camping trip along the Great Ocean Road.

I was eighteen, very naïve and sexually inexperienced, and although Anna was only a few months older than I was, she was much more mature and very street smart. We’d been friends for as long as I could remember, and in many ways she was like the big sister that I never had.

At school I had a reputation as a tall, skinny, geek who studied hard and loved to play sport. My appearance has sometimes been described as androgynous, and as a teenager, had it not been for my long, dark hair and great legs, I could easily be have been mistaken for a young boy. I had a flat chest, small waist, and narrow hips. Even my butt was small and tight, and there was not much evidence of any feminine curves.

Needless to say, I was not all that popular with or sought after by guys who seemed to prefer girls with bigger boobs, shorter skirts and more interest in partying than studying English, Music and Art, going to the beach, surfing or playing a good game of tennis.

Foolishly, on the night of my eighteenth birthday, I gave my virginity to my first boyfriend, a guy I’d been dating for a few weeks. He was head prefect and captain of the school football team and most of the girls at school thought he was very hot. I was surprised and flattered when he asked me out a few weeks before and, I’m embarrassed to admit I was proud that he’d be my date for the biggest party of my life.

On the night of the party, I drank too much. I know that’s no excuse, but at around two in the morning I found myself on my back, minus my panties and with my skirt up around my waist, getting fucked in the spare room of a flat belonging to one of his mates, where I woke up the next morning alone, hung over and sore.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, by Monday afternoon the news was all around school. It seems the whole thing had been a very cruel plot hatched with a few mates. He wanted to be, as he told everyone, ‘the first one to screw that skinny, stuck up bitch’. The bastard had even been showing off my panties that he’d souvenired as proof that he’d actually done it.

For a few weeks, I had to endure a lot of snide comments and knowing smirks but I knew it would pass with time, so I just buried myself in my studies and sport and ignored them. Looking back now, I see it as a lesson I needed to learn, and I know I’m stronger, more confident, and much more particular about how I choose my friends because of it.

Even though I was naïve and inexperienced, I still had all the usual sexual bahis firmaları urges of a healthy, fit and imaginative young girl. I masturbated a lot and sometimes it worried me that my fantasies were mostly about other girls – like the ones I read about in the lesbian stories on Literotica, or the photographs in the men’s magazines that I hid from my Mother at the back of my wardrobe. Mostly though, my fantasies were about or involved my best friend Anna. I realise now I was sexually attracted to her but at the time I didn’t understand the feelings that haunted and tormented me.

I often saw Anna in the showers at the tennis club where we both played on the same team. Fascinated, I’d watch her as she undressed by the lockers then as she stood naked under the shower, soaping her gorgeous, young body. Whenever I could, I picked the shower directly opposite the one she was using so that I could see her as she washed her firm, round breasts, her flat stomach, her smooth, bald pubic mound then finally, between her legs.

There were many times I’d realise that I was holding my breath hoping that she would turn, as she often did, so that her back was towards me, spread her legs, lean forward and using the opposite wall for support, push her butt in my direction and wash between the cheeks of her arse. If I was lucky, I’d sometimes catch a glimpse of her gleaming, soapy, wet pussy lips at the apex of her long, slender, legs, before she straightened up and turned back towards me.

Occasionally she would catch me watching her and smile, but I always tried to pretend I was busy washing myself and hadn’t noticed what she was doing. I’m sure she knew but never embarrassed me by really letting on.

Seeing her naked always aroused me, and almost every night after tennis practice, I’d go home and head straight to my room. Mum and Dad would usually be waiting for me to come down for tea but before I could eat, I had to attend to the fire that was raging in my loins.

On those nights, tea was a chore and I rarely cared or remembered what I ate. Mum and dad would want to talk, but not satisfied by the hurried attempt to relieve my aching need, all I wanted was to be finished so I could go back to my room, lock the door, turn my music up loud, immerse myself in my fantasies, and masturbate again. At the time, Mum just put my antisocial behaviour down to a ‘phase I was going through’.

Just a few weeks before we left on our trip, I’d started shaving my pubic hair. Anna kept her pussy bald and smooth, and I wanted to be like her so much that one night on the way home from school I stopped at the supermarket and bought a razor and some shaving gel.

When I’d completed my purchase, I put the new items in my backpack and hurried home. Going straight to the bathroom, I filled the basin with water, undressed and set about carefully removing all traces of my fine, gossamer, downy fuzz. When I finished, I stood back and looked at myself in the mirror. I was horrified. My pubic hair was naturally quite sparse, but shaved I looked like a prepubescent young girl.

I can still remember how nervous I was all the next day knowing that Anna would see my smooth, bald mound and tiny slit when we changed and showered after tennis practice that evening. But there was something else. Even though I’d masturbated that morning before getting out of bed, I was aware of my growing arousal from the moment I put on my panties and left the house to go to school.

It was bad enough on the train, but by the end of the first lesson, my panties were wet and I was having trouble concentrating on my classes. I wasn’t sure whether it was the knowledge that under my panties I was shaved, or the anticipation of exposing my bald pussy to Anna and perhaps other girls in the locker room later that evening, or the friction of the silky, smooth material of my panties against my sex. It was probably a combination of all three, but by the end of the school day, I was a total wreck.

In my condition, tennis practice that night was a total waste of time. All I did was double fault on serve and every groundstroke went into the net or over the base line. There was no way I could concentrate, and by the end of practice, any slight movement almost pushed me over the edge. I was terrified but also incredibly excited, more excited than I could ever remember, that I would actually come right there on the court in front of everyone.

Somehow I survived, although by the time practice was finished my pussy was throbbing, my breathing was laboured, and irregular and my tennis clothes were soaked with sweat that I knew had little to do with my effort on the court.

As I walked unsteadily back to the locker room, my heart was pounding. I was at the extreme limit of sexual arousal and torn between feelings of abject terror, afraid that Anna might not like the appearance of my freshly shaved sex and consumed by a burning desire to show off my new look.

As usual, we chatted as we undressed but I don’t remember any of the conversation. kaçak iddaa Anna was calm and relaxed but I was nervous and on edge. I was hoping it didn’t show as I took off my soaking shirt and shorts and put them in my locker. Anna was already naked and heading for the showers but I just stood there like a dummy in my panties, hesitating.

Finally, I plucked up the courage, pulled down my panties and stepped out of them. As I bent to and picked them up, I realised that they were sopping wet, so I discreetly scrunched them up in a ball and quickly threw them into the back of my locker.

Finally the big moment had come. I turned and walked to the showers with all the confidence I could muster, and Anna greeted me with a loud squeal. I looked up in surprise, and I clearly remember the smile and look of delight on her face. Dripping wet she came over for a closer look, and I enjoyed her attention and the curious stares of the other girls in the locker room when they noticed all the commotion.

As I drove home that night, my heart was almost bursting and it was impossible to keep my fingers out of my pants and my attention on road – and some people think that talking on the phone while driving is a dangerous distraction.

I was so excited that there was no way I could eat dinner, so I told Mum I wasn’t hungry and hurried straight to my room and masturbated to several orgasms, releasing the torrent of pent up emotion and a flood sexual energy that had been building up all day.

It had been an amazing day and I was exhausted physically and emotionally. I showered and collapsed into bed, falling asleep almost before my head hit the pillow only to dream about being naked on the tennis court, playing doubles with Anna in front of a large, appreciative crowd. I remember waking up with a tingling in my loins that needed my urgent attention.

All this passed through my mind as we cruised along the highway that warm summer morning, as well as vivid memories about the previous night at Bridgewater Bay where Anna and I had made love for the first time.

Even now, the memories of swimming and walking hand in hand along the beach, enjoying the freedom and the thrill of being naked in a public place with her, and then masturbating together and making love in the moonlight in our small tent make me wet.

It was my first lesbian experience and my darling Anna had helped me unlock and begin to understand the mysteries of my sexuality, and made me feel ‘normal’, beautiful and loved for the first time. It had been a significant turning point in my life, but the screaming police siren had rudely jolted me out of my reverie and back to the present.

Anna had already stopped the car on the side of the road, turned off the engine and put on the hand brake. The sound of the siren faded. There was an eerie silence broken suddenly by a sharp, staccato knock on the driver’s side window.

From the passenger side I could see the headless form of a person, and despite the rather masculine cut of the regulation, pale blue uniform, it was obviously a woman. Anna wound down the window, and after a slight hesitation, we heard an authoritative female voice.

“Will you please get out of the car?”

Anna turned to me briefly, a look of surprise on her face, before she turned back and reached for the door handle.

“What’s the problem officer? I wasn’t speeding, was I?”

The police officer stepped back a little from the door, but I still couldn’t see her face, just the hint of blonde hair tied back in a ponytail hanging a little below the collar of her blue shirt.

Anna was out of the car and suddenly there was a burst of laughter. I bent to look out of the driver’s side window and gasped with surprise.

“Oh shit!” I blurted out and then laughed. I couldn’t help it.

Standing with Anna was the female police officer who earlier that morning had come to our tent with a colleague who, despite our best efforts to dissuade him, had booked us for camping in a prohibited area on a public reserve.

By the time I opened the door and got out of the car, Anna and the police officer had both moved to the passenger side and were standing together on the grass by the roadside. The police car was parked behind ours, its lights still flashing, otherwise the road and the countryside were deserted, except for some sheep and the ruin of an old farm house and a few out buildings, the reminder of a more prosperous time now long past.

The police officer offered her hand.

“Hi I’m Fiona. Look, there’s no problem – you weren’t speeding or anything, but I recognised your car and just had to stop you and tell you that you girls were great this morning.”

She appeared to be in her mid to late twenties and looked stunning in her police uniform. She was tall with shoulder length blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and a gorgeous smile. She had a stick, a two-way radio, and a huge gun on her belt fastened around her slim waist. Her pants were tailored and fitted perfectly, revealing kaçak bahis a firm, shapely and very cute butt.

After introductions, she told us how a resident at Bridgewater Bay had phoned the police that morning complaining about someone camping on the foreshore and how she and the other police officer had arrived to hear us making love in the tent.

Apparently, they had waited a few minutes until the moans had died down before announcing their presence. She told us that she was not surprised but certainly delighted when two young girls, one topless, emerged from the tent, faces flushed and eyes sparkling, with the scent of recent sex still clinging to their sweaty bodies.

Listening to Fiona talk about us caused a pleasant tingling in my loins and I took Anna’s hand in mine and gave it a squeeze. She understood and turned to me and smiled.

We stood together by the side of the road chatting for a while, and told her about our trip, our plans to go to Apollo Bay, Lorne and Torquay, and my ambition to surf Bells Beach – probably the most famous surf break in Australia – even if is was just on my boogie board.

“Look,” she said, “It’s been great to talk with you but I have to get back on patrol. Oh, and by the way, you don’t need to worry about this morning. Somehow it seems that the paperwork has been lost so I guess you won’t be hearing anything more about it.”

I like to think I wasn’t worried by the prospect of going to court or at least being fined but I’m sure there was a tinge of relief in my voice as I answered her.

“That’s great Fiona. I don’t know how we can thank you.”

She smiled.

“Yeah, actually you do owe me. That fake licence you showed me this morning was terrible. It’s a good thing my partner didn’t get a look at it. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near as understanding and then you would have been in serious trouble.”

At the time, I didn’t have a driver’s licence and a friend had got me a fake that I used as I.D. to get into the clubs and pubs in Adelaide. It had been okay at night in poor lighting with people who don’t really care, but it obviously wasn’t good enough to fool the police.

As she spoke I realised it had been a pretty dumb thing to do, but I was young and sometimes you do these things without really considering the consequences.

She paused for a moment, as though thinking, then continued.

“Well, as for thanking me. Perhaps you can buy me dinner tonight. I live in Port Fairy and my shift finishes at five. I’ll give you my address, and if you like, we can go to a great little restaurant I know.”

With that she went to her car and returned a few moments later with a piece of paper on which she had written her name, address, mobile number and a small smiley face at the bottom.

We said our good byes and as her police car disappeared around a bend in the road, we got back in the VW and continued on the way to Port Fairy.

We drove in silence for a while, both lost in our own thoughts, and Anna was the first to break the silence.

“So what do you think?” She said.

I knew what she meant, but I stalled.

“What do I think about what?”

She looked at me and smiled.

“Come on Catherine. You know exactly what I am talking about. Do you want to catch up and have dinner with Fiona tonight? I guess we do owe her, you especially, and she seems nice – it could be fun.”

I thought about it for a few moments. All I really wanted that night was a romantic candle-lit meal with Anna at our tent, then to spend the rest of the evening making love to her, but she was right, Fiona did seem nice and we did owe her.

“Okay, let’s do it,” I said. The decision made, I relaxed and settled back in the seat to enjoy the scenery sliding past outside.

As we drove, I realised that thinking about Anna – and for some reason our brush with the Law – had left me feeling very horny, so reaching across I took her hand in mine, pulled it into my lap and pressed it against my sex.

Taking her eyes off the road, she glanced in my direction and laughed.

“Catherine you are hopeless. It’s only been a couple of hours.”

“I know Anna but…” I started to say but didn’t get to finish the sentence before she swung the car off the road onto a narrow, dirt track where a small, old, almost illegible sign indicated that it was the way to some beach or other.

We’d only travelled about a kilometre along the bumpy, gravel track before we came over a small rise to find, stretched out in front of us, a beautiful, long, wide sandy beach. It was like a photograph out of a travel brochure – clear blue sky, golden sand, crystal clear, sparking blue water and a perfect, glassy, two to three foot surf – and the most amazing thing was that we had it all to ourselves.

Anna stopped the car and almost before the sound of the engine had faded away, we were both out and running towards the water, hand in hand, giggling and laughing.

We reached the shore and Anna squealed as we ran through the icy, ankle deep water, which splashed and soaked us both. She hesitated for a moment, but I tightened my grip on her hand and dragged her fully clothed and protesting further into the foaming surf.

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