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The Ethan Blake Story: Camping

For Kate Middleton, whose contribution was fundamental.
A beautiful woman, draped only in a pink satin dressing gown, steps into a luxuriously spacious bathroom, her long, slender legs smooth and tanned. Almost too much a point is made of her leaving the door ajar; perhaps she is expecting to be disturbed. The mere scrap of material is allowed to slither down her back, exposing the skin of her well-defined shoulder blades and the near-perfect contours of her sculpted buttocks. She reaches to start the flow of water from the shower head and tests the temperature with her hand, judging it just right.

Until now, her naturally blonde hair had been tied up in a tight bun, but now she lets her long, soft curls fall sexily to the small of her back before she steps under the steady stream. Her eyes close as her body is warmed and she lets out a light moan as her hands cup her full, pert breasts. Sensually, liquid soap is squeezed onto her bosom. The lather she quickly forms is spread over her entire torso and it cannot help but be noticed how erect her nipples have become. While one hand continues to massage a breast, the other creeps down to her bald pubic region; a solitary finger extends to find the entrance to her...

The doorbell, audible only because of the conveniently open door, startles the young woman from her self-exploration. Eyes wide with faux surprise, the suds are hastily rinsed from her body, the shower shut off and what can only be described as a hand towel wrapped around her naked body, scarcely covering her most intimate areas. As she makes her way down a grand, carpeted staircase to the entrance hall, another impatient 'ding-dong' is heard. On the other side of the heavy, oaken door stands a moderately handsome man sporting the matching shirt and shorts of a UPS uniform and a five o'clock shadow, a small parcel in his hands. 

Within moments, the beauty is standing before him, beads of moisture still visible on her largely unconcealed breasts. Upon encountering the gawping stranger, the stunning blonde leans against the doorframe and twirls her locks flirtatiously. After a few moments of sexually tense silence, the dark-haired delivery man says, with more than a hint of innuendo, "I have a package for you."

"Oh, c'mon! Really?" Ethan could hold in his frustration no longer. The unashamedly cheesy porn clip sent to him by his walking hormone of a friend, Scott, with its infuriatingly clichéd characters was almost painful to watch. Even as he looked on, the bimbo had invited the delivery man in from the "scorching" heat for a refreshing beverage and, without even a thought to putting on some clothes, led him to the kitchen while he ogled her taut upper thighs.

"Do you live here alone?" he asks, tearing his eyes away from the curvaceous bombshell to observe the incredibly ornate mansion into which he had been so graciously received. 

"No, but my parents won't be home for hours," she tells him, flicking her luscious hair. As they entered the open-plan kitchen, a bar-stool is offered to him by his most obliging hostess. "I'll just get you that lemonade." She turns to retrieve a glass from the highest cupboard in the room; her towel rides up over her hips to reveal her firm ass and tantalising pussy lips to her guest. In a second, he is behind her, the towel is tossed aside and his hands are familiarising themselves with the perky tits of the wanton slut. His erection, so obvious beneath the brown shorts, presses against her desirous body as his lips suck lightly on her neck.

The nameless whore wastes no time in turning to the aroused man with lust in her eyes and dutifully falls to her knees. Light work is made of releasing his already throbbing cock from its constraints (and what a cock it was) and she wraps her fingers around it, a look of awe on her youthful face. Staring up into his eyes, with all the innocence she can muster, she says, "I've never seen a real life dick before; I'm still a virgin."

Ethan let out a burst of derisive laughter at this apparent twist in the 'plot' and rolled his eyes as the supposedly intact heroine expertly fellated the gratified delivery worker. The implausibility of the scene had prevented the visual aspect of it from having the intended physical effect on him. Nevertheless, having very little else to do with his afternoon, he decided to persevere with the less-than-enthralling pornography whilst he mentally composed a response to his horny friend, wanting to express how underwhelming he was finding the video which had reportedly caused him to "bust a nut". Deplorable language aside, it was unsurprising that Scott, who was liable to get an erection from a well-timed flash of ankle, would have such a reaction to this kind of smut. It took a bit more than a pretty, young thing slurping on the oversized phallus of some willing stranger, though, to get Ethan off.

A knock on the door was not met with the usual panic of a sixteen-year-old interrupted while viewing sexually explicit material online, often involving a swift trouser readjustment and the frantic scrabbling to find that little, red 'X' in the corner of the screen. The exaggerated screams of the virginal protagonist as her stubbly acquaintance introduced her to the delights of oral sex were undoubtedly audible to whoever now stood in the hallway outside his bedroom. His eyes did not stray from the uncensored act of cunnilingus displayed on his monitor when he coolly inquired, "Who is it?"

"Put your knob away, bawbag, I'm coming in." These uninhibitedly crass words, spoken with such diction and eloquence, could only have come from the delightfully foul mouth of Ethan's oldest and dearest friend. A smile spread wide across his face as he swiveled round in his chair to greet the short, red-haired figure.

"Porn in the middle of the day? Shameful, Mr Blake." The sight of the barely legal 'hottie' currently having her cunt devoured by a middle-aged man elicited a raised eyebrow and a sly grin from the intruder.

"Aye, shite porn at that," he replied, shaking his head disappointedly. "Get a load of this crap Scott sent me." They both watched for a few seconds, Ethan explaining the circumstances under which the two characters had been brought together, as no time was wasted in bending the little tramp over the kitchen counter and divesting her of her virginity.

"It's a joke!" His exasperation was evident. "There's just no realism. You couldn't pay my dick to get hard at this rubbish."

"You have got to be the strangest teenage boy I've ever met, y'know that? She's tidy as fuck and he's pillaging her with an impressively huge cock. Who doesn't get even a wee bit turned on by that? Christ, I'm a wee bit turned on by that!" Gretchen stared intently over the shoulder of her best friend at the rampant sex scene before her, fixated. Truth be told, she was getting more than a 'wee bit' aroused - an of late familiar feeling bubbling between her thighs - but would never admit that, even to Ethan. With no answer to give, he gave a shrug and turned to face her once more.

"So, what's up? I thought you weren't coming over until five... Gretch?" He waved a hand in front of her to unglue her wide, blue-grey eyes from the debauchery. A dazed look quickly turned to one of embarrassment as he reached for the mouse, laughing whilst he said, "I'll just turn this off so maybe we can have a conversation." One last 'Oh, God!' and the room filled with silence. Ethan repeated his question, "Why so early?"

Not one for awkwardness, her blushes soon faded. She jumped onto his bed, crossing her legs, and bounced a few times before she spoke. "No reason. I was bored and Maggie was doing my tits in, so I came here. Aren't you happy to see me?" Another buoyant bounce accompanied the almost rhetorical question.

"You still good for tonight?" she went on without waiting for a response. His affirmative nod was preceded by a heavy sigh, prompting her to ask, "D'you not wanna go any more?"

It was the perfect weather for camping, and he relished any excuse to get drunk on cheap beer, but Ethan's summer apathy had peaked and the prospect of lugging his tent and sleeping bag two miles into the woods didn't enthuse him very much right now. "I do, I just can't be arsed. Do we know who's all going yet?" The last he heard, only three others had confirmed.

"Yeah, Luke phoned me earlier. It's: him and Michaela, Podge, Wee Dave, Scott and..." She counted them off on her fingers. "Oh aye, Michaela invited that French exchange lassie, Orally, or whatever her name is." Ethan's ears pricked at the mention of this last, unexpected addition to the party. 

"Aurélie, you mean?" He had been admiring this continental beauty since she arrived at school four months ago.

"Ye ken what I mean. It's her last weekend before she's shipped off back to Frogland, apparently." This was not new information to Ethan; they had spoken (and flirted) a reasonable amount in their shared History class. Only recently, in fact, he had been lamenting her imminent departure, telling himself that he might have asked her out had they had more time together. There was no sense in trying to conceal his delight from Gretchen; she could always see right through him and she knew he had had his eye on her for a while.

After a few seconds of watching his eyes glaze over with impure thoughts, she interjected, "Last chance to give her your baguette."

The deadpan way she said it set him off into a fit of laughter; he was bent double in his seat. One of the reasons he loved Gretchen was her distinct lack of discretion and subtlety. Since they were kids, she was very outspoken and had always encouraged the naturally reserved Ethan to be more so. A similar comparison could be drawn between their mothers, through whom they had been introduced at the age of three. Margaret was a short-tempered, loud-mouthed 'soccer mom' type who was forever spear-heading controversial community initiatives and making memorable speeches to the Parent Council; Cecelia was a quiet, unassuming housewife who rarely had a bad word to say about anyone and avoided confrontation at all costs. Yet these two women, polar opposite in their demeanours, could be considered naught but the closest of friends. Their offspring counterparts did not have quite the extremes of personality that they did, but the likeness of the relationships was undeniable.

"We'll see how it goes," was his suggestive response once the laughter subsided, immediately changing the subject. "Is your cousin still gettin' us beer?" Danny had been their source of all things alcoholic for the past year, as well as their obliging chauffeur; all he asked for in return was a couple of quid for petrol every now and again. This was an extremely convenient arrangement for two booze-thirsty, inordinately lazy sixteen-year-olds as well as their parents who were "sick of being a bloody taxi service" to them. Gretchen believed his generosity stemmed from a want of social interaction, being somewhat of a loner, and they were always happy to shoot the breeze with the slightly peculiar but essentially good-natured fellow. 

Gretchen lay on the bed now, her black t-shirt riding up to expose a portion of her flat belly and its Batman symbol visible atop the small mounds of her breasts. "Aye, you owe him a fiver," she answered, propping herself up on her elbows. She had quite striking features, even at that age: piercing, smoky blue eyes; straight, pointed nose; thin, yet notably red lips. It was little wonder that nearly every guy at school had asked her out, but she rarely took much notice of any of them. Whenever Ethan queried this, she would always trot out the same line about not having the patience for immature, randy teenage boys and the topic would be quickly dismissed. Big Dave had been successful in securing a cinema date once but his conversation had been sufficiently inane to ensure there would be no sequel.

Many suspected that she and Ethan were something of an item, being so close and spending so much time together. While Ethan brushed off these rumours with good humour, Gretchen was always quick to go on the defensive whenever it was mentioned.

"That's preposterous," she would protest, "He's my best friend; we're practically brother and sister. How could you even think that? It's ridiculous!" No one dared argue with her once they saw her hands curl into fists at her side and Ethan knew better than to accuse her of overreacting.

Danny picked them up a couple of hours later in his rickety, old Peugeot 106. The edge of the woods they were camping in was about four miles from their town, along a winding, single-track road. They had made this trip once before and found the perfect clearing in which to pitch their tents - perfect but for the distance from the road. There was a rough path which led to the spot - easy enough to follow in the light of day but overgrown with nettles and with many unexpected ditches and puddles. Alas, there was nothing else for it.

With the additional burden of a 24-pack of Carling, the walk was fairly grueling and Ethan was effing and blinding when they arrived at the site, cursing Luke, whose idea the whole damn thing was. They were the first there and took the opportunity to pitch their tent (inducing yet more swearing) in the flattest and driest part of the opening. Just as the last peg had been hammered into the ground, Michaela and Aurélie appeared, seemingly in high spirits and not carrying a thing between them. Luke followed minutes later, laden like a packhorse and panting for breath. Nonetheless, the dutiful boyfriend did not utter a word of complaint and smiled throughout the whole sorry ordeal of setting up their own little tent. The last to arrive (and they were heard long before they were seen) were the three boys, bearing enough alcohol for at least ten people.

Ethan had been watching Aurélie since she stepped into the glade, her long, shapely legs stealing his attention for several long moments. The denim shorts and sleeveless top she wore was not a suitable outfit for camping at all, but it was damn sexy. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail which swung from side to side as she bounced gaily around the site. He knew that if he was going to make any kind of move on the pretty French girl, he would have to do it tonight. "May as well make an early start," he murmured under his breath as he stood to approach her.

"Hey Aurélie, wanna help me collect some wood for the fire?" Her enthusiastic acceptance of his invitation was a great sign of encouragement to the smitten boy and he couldn't help but feel hopeful as they wandered into the woods together.

The usual chit-chat ensued, with all the boring niceties of a friendly acquaintance. She seemed extraordinarily happy to have been invited on this little excursion to the woods and she gushed with gratitude towards Michaela and, indeed, all of them. Michaela had befriended her quickly upon her arrival and taken her under her wing, as it were, for the duration of her stay. Aurélie particularly appreciated not having to spend all her time with the other two exchange students, both male, who seemed less keen to integrate with the Scottish high-schoolers. Ethan's face was adorned with an involuntary smile as he listened to the sweet continental accent of his companion.

Seizing a lull in her speech, he decided to try his hand at flattery in an attempt to better gauge his chances. "You look really pretty today." As soon as it was out, he wanted to take the stupid, clichéd words back. Being smooth was not something Ethan Blake was known for. 

Regardless, it seemed to have the desired effect, for she blushed and averted her eyes as she gave an almost inaudible, "Merci." A brief moment of awkward silence was interrupted by Aurélie tripping over a hidden root and falling comically to the ground. At first deeply concerned, Ethan quickly rushed to crouch by her to make sure she was okay but when she let out a chuckle of embarrassment, he started to laugh himself. He offered a chivalrous hand to the muddy damsel and pulled her to an upright position once more.

Once he was sure she was securely on her feet, he tried to release her hand from his but found himself unable. Her grasp was tight and she looked at him with adoring, brown eyes. Yep, he thought, my chances are good.

When they returned with bundles of firewood in their arms, all the guys were standing around a pile of broken branches, squabbling about the best way to start a fire. Already knowing what the resolution would be, Ethan dumped his contribution and drew Aurélie away to sit in the door of his tent. They sat for a few moments, enjoying the commotion, before Gretchen barged through the group of bewildered boys with a can of deodorant in one hand, a lighter in the other, and set the twigs alight with her makeshift flamethrower. All but Ethan, who simply laughed, now sported looks of wonderment and surprise. Although she wasn't 'outdoorsy', as such, Gretchen was extremely resourceful and did not suffer fools lightly. It was from Danny that she had learnt that little trick, in fact, hence Ethan's lack of astonishment. A fresh argument about the best way to maintain the fire soon ignited amongst the emasculated foursome, to the entertainment of the onlookers.

Without warning, Ethan rolled back into the tent and emerged seconds later with two beers, offering one to the brunette. "Oh, no thank you," was her coy reply, "I don't drink." Ordinarily, he would have respected this and said no more on the matter, but his ulterior motive spurred him to be an uncharacteristically bad influence on the innocent-looking foreigner.

"Go on, what's one beer?" He felt wicked for pressuring the poor girl but didn't stop. "We can think of this as your 'Bon Voyage' party." Her resolve was weakened greatly by this suggestion and she smiled meekly at him. Hesitantly, she took the can from his hand and stared down at it. He pulled back the ring-pull on his own and took a long swig, then watched her expectantly. Peer pressure had triumphed once more in dragging another underage soul from the depressing pits of sobriety. It was commonplace in this part of the world for youths to imbibe huge volumes of low-quality alcohol and Ethan justified his unlawful encouragements as a proper introduction to the Scottish drinking culture.

Just as she lifted the beverage to her plump, pink lips, a yell came from the other side of the campsite: "That's coming out of your half, Ethan!" Gretchen's face was all seriousness as she stood with hands on hips, her stare fixed on the beer in the startled girl's hand. Aurélie hesitated, looking at him for reassurance, and his affirmative smile was returned with affection.

"Don't mind her," he said, then raised his voice to go on, "She's kidding herself on if she thinks she can drink twelve anyway." The redhead glowered at him for his remark but, knowing what truth was in it, proffered no comeback.

"Well, what do you think?" He saw that Aurélie had just taken her first mouthful and was struggling to decide whether or not she liked it. He observed the smooth skin of her expressive face and the way her cute nose crinkled slightly as she pondered the taste of the lager. 

Had she kept him in suspense much longer, he might have leant over to kiss her and the idea was just occurring to him when she finally gave her verdict. "It is not as nice as wine, but I will drink it for you, Ethan." At the sound of her saying his name, he became very glad of being sat down for, had he been standing, his knees almost surely would have given way. The urge to kiss her grew stronger and he took a long drink from his black and white can to suppress it; such an advance so early in the night ran too great a risk and could not be blamed on his inebriation if a rejection was encountered. No, biding one's time was definitely the preferred strategy in the given circumstances. Still, it was hard to resist the lure of her soft features and musical voice and the call for them to join the rest of the group, now gathered round the moderate fire, was a most welcome one. Gretchen had authoritatively taken charge of stoking the flames and the boys, weary of arguing with the indefatigable girl, busied themselves with the act of getting very drunk. 

Aurélie's insistence on sitting next to him for the duration of the evening was a wonderful excuse for Ethan not to have to admit wanting the selfsame thing. How close she chose to sit next to him, with no visible gap between them, left none present, however, in any doubt of their mutual infatuation. Not even Luke and Michaela looked as intimate as them once he plucked up the courage to place a forcefully steadied hand over her small, delicate one. The laughing and joking came naturally to the circle of school friends. Aurélie was pleased to be included in their joviality as she politely sipped at her beer. Michaela, the epitome of a 'girly girl', offered Bacardi Breezers to the other females, explaining to her French protégé how much nicer they were than the 'disgusting' beer she was drinking. She squeezed Ethan's hand as she politely declined then stifled a giggle at Gretchen who scoffed, saying, "Away ye go wi' yer poof juice!" before downing the rest of her drink.

The sky darkened about them; the clear night threatened to be colder than they had anticipated. Like the gentleman he was raised, Ethan gave up some of his own warmth to Aurélie in the form of his jumper, which she reluctantly accepted, and placed an arm around her waist to pull her yet closer.

Whilst the boys made pitiful attempts at ghost stories, she whispered to him, "Michaela has said I can share her tent, but I think they are wanting to be in private tonight." A knowing glance made Ethan laugh noiselessly. "So, perhaps," she went on, "I could sleep in your tent, if Gretchen does not mind." The gentle caress of his thigh made the proposal impossible to decline; he only wished they had a tent to themselves. He knew there would be no objection on the part of his best friend and their tent was more than adequate to comfortably hold three. With probably too much eagerness, he heartily agreed to her suggestion. The kiss on the cheek which he received as a thank you would have been enough to make him sleep on the cold, hard ground for this goddess. 

Once everyone was sufficiently tipsy, the inevitable prospect of a drinking game was introduced. The game of choice, I've Never…, was a simple one and good for inducing friends to reveal secrets. Drinks were replenished (Aurélie was much more taken with her second Carling than her first) and Podge set the tone with, "I've never had sex." As expected, smug-looking Luke and Michaela were the only ones to drink.

Orange flames flickered in Aurélie's eyes as she looked up into Ethan's for clarification on the rules. "So I am to drink when I have never done the thing?"

"No," he quickly corrected her, "Only when you have done the thing. So, if you have had sex (she shook her head) then you would drink now."

"Ahh, I understand." Ethan kissed her head, getting a whiff of her flower-scented hair, and they half-cuddled, their free hands clutching at beer cans. Unseen, Gretchen eyed them from the tent where she was retrieving her pullover. She was conflicted between her pleasure at seeing him happy and her dismay at the thought that she would soon be losing her only true friend to the evils of romance, dating and love. For so long he had been the only man she needed and wanted in her life and she wanted to keep him to herself for just a little while longer. There was a certain degree of jealousy in seeing him ready to embrace this next stage of growing up while she still, in that respect at least, felt like a child who didn't want anything to do with 'icky boys'. Being confident in the fact that their friendship would last a lifetime was some consolation to her.

The game went on with sufficient hilarity to hold everyone's interest. Ethan found himself running his hands over Aurélie's goose-bumped legs to warm them and she snuggled into him; he felt almost as if they were a couple (though not quite as 'handsy' as the actual couple opposite). It came to be her turn and she became instantly shy, protesting that she could not think of one and that they should pass her this time around. The drunken assembly would have none of it and relentlessly egged her on.

Conscious of her discomfort, Ethan whispered to her, "Just say something daft like, 'I've never eaten a banana peel,' just to get them off your back."

She looked at him and then gulped before speaking. "I've never kissed a boy." There was a notable moment of silence before the two girls (and, unnoticed, Dave) took a swift swig. Michaela looked across at Aurélie, who was avoiding everyone's gaze while clinging on to Ethan's arm, and opened her mouth as though to speak but promptly shut it again. Whether it was a hint or not, Ethan did not know, but he was willing to take the chance that it was. He turned towards her, their eyes meeting and sparkling in the firelight, and held her face at the chin. Her look was of adoration and innocence, his of desire. In an instant, their faces were drawn together and their lips met in a long, tender kiss. At first, she just let it happen, but soon she pushed back hard against him, pressing her whole self towards him. For Ethan, it was like reliving his first kiss, only with the benefit of experience and a much more attractive partner (he had vowed never to play spin-the-bottle again, incidentally). 

Their kiss was broken to the sound of hollers and cheers and Podge insisting that she now take a drink. There was no hesitation this time as she drained the remaining quarter of the can she had left, invoking another rapturous round of applause. She wrapped her arms around he recipient of her first kiss and quietly said, "Thank you, Ethan." His name was said with more purpose this time, almost seductively. Another brief peck was planted on his cheek before she stood to fetch another beer. He thought of following her to the tent; of taking her in a passionate embrace there and then; of feeling and caressing and kissing every inch of her lithe body. Out of courtesy to Gretchen, as well as the knowledge that everyone would hear everything, he knew he could not use their tent for such purposes, much as he would like to.

On her return, Aurélie conspicuously chose to sit on Ethan's lap rather than resume her previous position beside him. She hugged his neck and he did not know how much of this behaviour to put down to the alcohol, how much to attribute to their apparently shared idea of a last 'hoorah' on one of her last nights in the country and how much was genuine attraction. Whatever the ratio, he was very thankful for all three things as he felt the bare skin of her legs again. He let his hand wander further this time, Dutch courage daring him to test the waters. It seemed she was going to put up no resistance whatsoever when she suddenly clamped her thighs together, trapping his hand just inside the hem of her short shorts. They swapped a drunkenly mischievous look and, knowing that the dwindling fire was doing nothing to break down the shield of darkness around them, she relaxed a little to let his finger creep to her underwear and trace the outline of her labia through the thin material. Never before had a girl let him do this and he felt his excitement begin to stir beneath her. With his free hand, he pulled her into another kiss, letting his tongue slip into her mouth this time and swirl with hers, completely ignorant of whatever activity may have been going on around them. 

As they made out with his hand yet further up her shorts, he felt her panties begin to moisten slightly - a sensation which roused such a physical reaction in him that she jumped slightly in his lap. So consumed with each other were they that they were oblivious to the natural conclusion of the game. Michaela and Luke were sucking face and feeling each other up, too, while Scott and Podge were falling about laughing at some infantile joke the former had told and Gretchen was trying to fend off the advances of Dave, charming as the slurred line, "You're right fit, you," was. Before long, Aurélie was straddling Ethan, lightly grinding his straining erection positioned perfectly between her legs, and he pushed exploratory hands up under his own jumper and her top to grope at her petite breasts which required no bra, all inhibition thrown to the wind. 

It took a smack round the head from Gretchen to break their lusty trance. "I'm away to bed, bawbag!" She belched loudly, making no apologies. "The fire's deid so dini stay oot here too long."

She stumbled towards the tent and Ethan, eventually snapping out of his bewildered daze, called after her, "Oh, Aurélie's going to stay in our - "

"I figured," she interrupted before dropping down and rolling to the far side of the tent. He watched Scott and Podge drag a half-conscious Wee Dave towards their own tent (and Ethan fancied he sported a black eye). Distinct rustling could be heard from the invisible tent of the happy couple; there were no prizes for guessing how they were passing the time. He could hardly make out Aurélie's face by the starlight but he could tell she was smiling at him. No longer numbed by the euphoria of passion and with the buzz of nine beers slowly wearing off, he felt the chill of the night for the first time and held her close for warmth. 

"You are cold, Ethan." Her intoxicating voice sent a fresh rush of blood to his nether regions. "We should go to bed also, yes?" She sounded just as innocent as though she hadn't, seconds previously, been dry-humping him and tugging at his short, blonde hair like a seasoned slut. Aurélie was no slut, though. She was a beautiful, sexy, incredible young woman who Ethan wanted so badly, it would have hurt if it didn't feel so good. They stood up in the sea of empty cans and walked, nay, staggered hand in hand towards where Gretchen was (hopefully) sleeping soundly. 

He had a cunning thought when he knelt down to pull back the unzipped entrance flap - he unfolded both of their sleeping bags so they were more like blankets and lay one down on top of the other to create what vaguely resembled a double bed. Mere centimetres from where Gretchen was enveloped in her own cocoon, Ethan made himself comfortable, beckoning Aurélie to join him as he removed his jeans (purely for comfort, he told himself). She crawled under the cover, letting her hair down, and duly moulded her body into the contours of Ethan's, draping her arm across his narrow chest whilst letting out a moan of content.

Just as he was debating the propriety of returning to the situation they were in outside with a sleeping person in such close proximity, the hand that was on his chest traveled south to his loose boxer shorts and the semi-hard member therein. The decision was to be made for him, it seemed, as the brazen little French girl delved beneath his waistband to wrap her fingers around his stiffening cock. It was weird, in a wonderful way, to have a hand other than his own stroke his hardness, and so surprisingly skilfully, at that. She retracted the foreskin and spread the pre-ejaculate she found over the bulbous head and veiny shaft with the palm of her hand. Ethan stifled a gasp at her soft caress of the sensitive underside of his erection and thrust a tongue into her mouth in a wet, sloppy kiss.

Automatically, he positioned himself so that he could simultaneously return the favour. Easing down first one side then the other of her shorts, along with her cotton undergarment, he exposed a patch of soft pubic hair which he twirled in his fingers for a minute. Her steady, rhythmic pumping never ceased but her breathing changed as she felt a spindly finger graze her wet outer lips. Involuntarily, she pushed her hips towards the Scotsman's hand, her body longing for something inside it. The grasp she had on Ethan's cock tightened as the finger obliged and began to explore her inner recesses, soon accompanied by an assistant. She bit down on his lip, intensifying her strokes.

Unbeknownst to them both, the third occupant of the tent was also fully awake and fully aware of their actions. Every hushed groan and short breath was amplified by the silence of the remote woods. Rather than feeling peeved, as she thought she ought, Gretchen was having quite a different reaction to her friend's indiscretion. Her mind filled with the image of the blonde slut being taken roughly from behind by a lucky delivery man in her own kitchen, a scene which combined with the audio of the live-action porn going on less than a foot away to evoke the urge to drive a hand beneath her own waistband. Not for the first time, she slid an impatient finger past her swollen labia, feeling her own warm, slimy juices. 

Being in such a confined space, she found the palm of her hand pressing against her half-exposed clitoris - a sensation she had not before experienced. Curious, she made a circular motion over the little nub and had to bite down on her sleeping bag to prevent herself from crying out. It was pleasure like she had never known from her fingers, or her hairbrush, or candlestick. She pulled her fingers from herself to concentrate on this newly-found magical button and could barely keep herself still as pulse after pulse of sensuality coursed through her virgin body.

Ethan's fingers were working just as furiously in the tight pussy of Aurélie, who had all but given up on remaining quiet; clearly his clueless, 'go for it' approach was somewhat effective. Her approach was beyond effective and was quickly driving him very close to a climax. The vigour with which she was going at it was to be marvelled at and he knew he would not last much longer. With that in mind, he doubled his own efforts in probing her depths. Several breathy "Oui"s followed, each louder and more intense than the last. Ethan felt his fingers being clamped by muscles he was unaware existed and there was a pause in Aurélie's strokes as her body tensed in a wave of elation and she clenched his dick painfully hard. The orgasm left her panting loud enough for everyone in the clearing to hear; Ethan cast an eye towards Gretchen and only hoped everyone else was in such a drunken coma as her.

Gretchen, however, was far from being in any kind of coma. She had listened to the entirety of Aurélie's release and increased her endeavour to find her own. Her movements were imperceptible, even to the nearby Ethan, but were more than enough to get her off. Shortly after the Frenchwoman had woken the entire wood, she reached her own personal euphoria, squeezing her legs together and screwing up her face in ecstasy as her whole being shuddered silently. It felt deliciously naughty to have just secretly orgasmed within touching distance of where her childhood coconspirator was being jerked off to within an inch of his life. 

The merciless beating of Ethan's engorged penis resumed immediately Aurélie recovered from her brutal finger-fucking. From base to tip, the feeling she produced in him was unbelievable. Less than a minute later, a low, manly grunt preceded the creamy, white liquid that spewed forth from the tip of his cock like a squeezed tube of toothpaste, coating her tiny hand. She milked a few minor follow-up spurts until Ethan's slender body relaxed and his erection started to deflate. Both glowing with satisfaction, he held her in his arms and lovingly kissed the top of her head. Judging the moment perfectly, he lowered his mouth to her ear. "I can't believe you have to go back to France in a few days. I don't want you to leave, Aurélie."

"I will miss you, Ethan." There was a sadness in her voice that infected him. They moved onto their sides and he wrapped his arms securely around her. The three of them each fell into an undisturbed sleep to the distant sound of Scott's obnoxious snores.

The hot morning sun rose many hours before the happy campers and Ethan was sweating from the body heat accumulated in the poorly-ventilated tent when he awoke. He looked down at the beautiful creature still sleeping soundly in his arms, a hint of an unconscious smile on her lips. The recollection that this may be the last time he would see Aurélie came with great sorrow at their only having just realised the full extent of their attraction to one another. He could not yet bring himself to break the embrace and so lay for a while longer, breathing her in, savouring the intimacy.

At his back, the small figure of Gretchen roused, too, yawning loudly and stretching herself into wakefulness. She looked at the back of Ethan's head through bleary eyes and, with a raspy, dry-throated voice, stage-whispered to him, "Haw, bawbag, you awake?" It was hard for him to suppress a laugh at her disposition to speak as such even so early in the morning. By means of answering without threatening to disturb Aurélie, he glanced briefly over his shoulder.

Lowering her tone slightly, she continued, partly to herself, "I'm Hank Marvin! I hope we didny munch aw they crisps last night." Ethan pointed towards the foot of the tent where he believed two unopened packets still dwelt. 

Between Gretchen's struggle from her confined sleeping position and the subsequent rustle of a packet of Prawn Cocktail, Aurélie was brought to consciousness. Her initial look of confusion at waking in such an unfamiliar place was quickly succeeded by one of happiness at finding herself still in the safety of Ethan's long arms. He murmured low enough for Gretchen, now chomping hungrily at her unsubstantial breakfast, not to hear, "Good morning, beautiful. I hope you slept well."

He allowed a hand to run over the shape of her body and, in a moment of unexpected flesh-to-flesh contact, they both realised that her shorts were still further down her legs than they ought to have been. She flushed red and he grinned widely as he cheekily massaged the rounds of her ass and, reminiscent of the activities of the night just past, toyed with her exposed 'lady garden'. When his brave fingers portended to go further, even in the presence of a fully-wakened third party, she nudged him away playfully and, with all the subtlety she could muster, pulled her displaced clothing up to cover her. Gratefully did he accept the consolation of a long and deeply passionate 'good morning' kiss.

Perfectly revolted by this public display of affection, Gretchen ceremoniously climbed over the loved-up pair and removed herself from the greenhouse-like tent, wasting no time in the rude awakening of the rest of the groggy group. Many dissenting groans and protestations were heard and it seemed only Dave was quite as keen to start the day as her. Ethan, certainly, was reluctant to share in anyone's company but Aurélie's for the time being and let her know as much by pulling her to lie on his chest with him twiddling the wavy locks of her hair. As others around them crawled wearily from the pits of slumber, the smitten pair remained quite still, wishing to prolong every moment before they would be forced to part, perhaps forever.

After a few peaceful minutes, during which only the calm sound of her breathing filled Ethan's ears, it was Aurélie's sweet-toned voice which dissolved the agreeable silence. "If I write to you, Ethan… " She paused to give him a look both thoughtful and gleaming with hope. "… Will you write back to me?"

Without a second's deliberation, he enthusiastically agreed to do so, telling her it would be a great pleasure to him and that he so wished that they would remain in contact for a very long time. Their future correspondence was settled with a feverish osculation, followed by a reluctant resolution from each to aid their fellow campers in the disassembly effort about to commence outside. She sat up and returned his borrowed jumper before finding discarded shoes and exiting into the bright sunlight where General Gretchen was barking orders at the barely compos mentis workforce.

Ethan took a little time to privately reflect on all that had passed in the past eighteen hours, not least the sexual milestone he had reached. What a pity the unlikeliness of any more of them being reached with who might, under more fortunate circumstances, have been his first love was. This sad thought was supplanted by his excitement at their proposed continuing relationship as pen-friends - one could not be wholly certain of the fruits that bond might bear. France is not so far away, he mused, Maybe I could visit her one day and… 

"Ethan, get your lazy arse in gear!" Fear of reprehension snapped him out of his daydream and he hastily squirmed back into his jeans.

"Coming, Sir!"

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