A Tight Fit

The young man walked over to her. He looked at her and smiled. And that smile cheered Jodie right up.

"Ça va?" he asked. "Tu peux me prêter un maillet?"

"He wants to borrow the mallet!" Jodie yelled over to Aidan. "Will you fetch it from the car?" She turned back to the young man. He looked to be early twenties, dark hair, athletic, good-looking, and Jodie was pleased to note that when she had turned to yell at Aidan he had stolen a slightly too obvious look at her tits.

"Oui. Mon ami va le chercher," she said.

"Merci. On a eu des problèmes..." he said and he gestured towards a pile of un-erected tent in a heap on the grass nearby next to a beat-up old car. A pretty young woman who Jodie guessed was Claire was staring at them both angrily.

With a grin Jodie asked if those problems were with the tent or with the girl.

"Les deux... both!" he laughed. Jodie enjoyed the way he struggled with the "th" sound of "both". She always was a pushover for a French accent.

"Je m'appelle Jodie" she said with a smile.

"Paul."

They held each other's gaze for a minute, then Jodie felt something against her inner thigh. She looked down involuntarily and saw a blob of thick white liquid slide down past her knee and drip onto the grass.

Paul saw it too. He paused for a minute, then his eyes met Jodie's again and he winked.

Jodie didn't know the French for "That's not cum dripping down my leg!" In any case she wasn't sure that the truth would be any less embarrassing. But at that exact moment Claire appeared.

"I am Claire and I am Paul's girlfriend" she said, and grabbed Paul's arm in an unmistakeable show of ownership. "He does not speak English." She tossed her thick black hair and wielded her distinctly pointy tits at Jodie like a pair of duelling pistols and Jodie half-expected to be challenged to "Nipples at dawn". Paul blushed. Then Aidan arrived with the mallet. He handed it crossly to Paul. Claire glared at him, then at Jodie, then at Paul. Jodie decided it was time for her shower.

"Go and get us something for dinner. And get some wine!" she told Aidan, as she walked over to the shower block. Behind her she could here Paul and Claire were just getting stuck into another argument which from what she could hear was about whether or not Paul had looked at Jodie's tits. "And why shouldn't he?" she thought to herself with a mischievous smile...

The shower needed a token. She closed the door, hung up her towel and enjoyed the sensation of the warm water flowing over her scalp and shoulders. Jodie took a squirt of shower gel and washed the salt from her skin, then slid her fingers between the cheeks of her ass and lathered the sticky goop away from her asshole and the lips of her cunt. It felt good to get clean. She let a finger play over her frustrated clit and it tingled with pleasure. Then she slid her other hand between her buttocks. Stupid Aidan. Why did he ruin everything with his desperate desire to fuck her up the ass? What was the appeal?

She pressed a finger experimentally against her anus. It was too tight. Not like the welcoming slippery folds of her cunt. She compared the two -- the fingers of her left hand slipping sweetly inside her pussy, while a little soapy lather on her right forefinger was just enough to ease the fingertip past her anal sphincter and a little way up her ass. She tried to relax. The warm water eased her muscles, and with a little splaying of her ass cheeks her asshole opened a fraction more and she pushed the tip of her finger up her bum. The ring of muscle felt tight. The hole felt small. It was all a bit weird and uncomfortable.

"OK" she thought. "So what's all the fuss?" It was quite a contrast the feel of her cunt. That felt... lovely. Jodie leaned back against the tiles and started to masturbate her clit under the cascading water. She spread her legs. She circled the swollen bud with her fingertips. Her other hand went to her tits to pull at her stiffening nipple. And that was when the token ran out and the shower stopped. Someone knocked at the door and asked her to hurry. She gave up. It was not her day.

Clean, dry, but distinctly unsatisfied Jodie walked back to the tent in a loose-fitting red sun dress that she knew showed off her cleavage, handy in case she had another breast-to-breast duel with Claire. But although Paul and Claire's tent was up now, and their car was still there the couple were nowhere to be seen. She imagined they had patched up their differences and were off on an evening walk. Meanwhile Aidan was clearly taking his time sulking as he went round the little supermarket in the village.

She sat next to the tent and got out a book - a trashy holiday novel with a murder, a stolen painting and three quite graphically described affairs in just the first 100 pages. It was a laughably awful and extremely thrilling holiday read. The low evening sun felt warm on her shoulders, and as she read about Penelope Fothergill's scandalous felation of the handsome young auctioneer on the train she felt the warm glow flicker in her still-to-be-satisfied cunt.

Since nobody was around she let her hand slip between her legs and her finger pressed through her dress and into the notch in her white cotton panties. The pressure on her clit felt comforting and arousing at the same time. She read on. "As the train thundered into the tunnel Penelope could barely fit the auctioneer's tumescent member between her immaculately made-up lips". Hmm. Lucky Penelope. Jodie pressed her cunt again. She supposed she'd have to make it up with Aidan if she was going to get any kind of satisfaction. But really he was infuriating. What really was the point of him if he couldn't even be relied on to fuck her properly?

Jodie read on, and as the auctioneer ripped off Penelope's expensive designer lingerie she discretely rubbed her fingers against her crotch in a gentle rhythm. She gave a little sigh of pleasure. Then like an echo she heard another sigh come back to her on the warm breeze.

She put the book down and listened. Another sigh, then another, and another. A woman enjoying herself. She looked over to Claire and Paul's tent. Evidently the pair had resolved their differences and now the couple were fucking as only a pair of twenty-something French people can fuck, i.e., loudly and with no thought for the neighbours.

"Suce moi! Suce moi!" Claire's urgent demands wafted towards her on the breeze. So not a fucking then, but a sucking Jodie thought. Knowing she shouldn't, but not able to stop herself she tiptoed towards the source of the moans of pleasure.

The French couple's tent was old and distinctly flimsy and Jodie noticed the zip on the door flap didn't do all the way up. "I suppose it would be nobody's fault, she thought, if I walked past and happened to glance inside..." And she bent forward to peer through the gap.

Claire was on her back, her legs bent and spread wide, head thrown back and eyes closed tight. A skimpy black bra was pushed up past her tits and her fingers played with her erect nipples. Apart from that she was naked. Between her legs Paul crouched, his mouth evidently on her clit, and from the rhythmic movement of his arm she guessed his fingers were also at work in her cunt. And oh how Jodie wished it was her own clit that the handsome mouth was sucking, and oh how she wished it was her pussy those fingers were fucking, and oh how unfair it all was.

Claire groaned louder and Jodie started to touch herself through her distinctly damp panties. She could hear the slurp of Paul's tongue now, hear the lewd squelching of his rapidly moving fingers. And then she heard something much louder as Claire came.

"Oui, ah oui, aaaaaah OUI."

Claire thrust her crotch up into Paul's face and came hard, squirming and writhing and thrusting her hips and pursing her mouth into a perfect "Oooooooo". Then with a sigh she slumped back in a heap, pushed Paul's face away and lay there panting.

Through the narrow gap Jodie watched Paul pull back revealing the glistening lips of Claire's freshly climaxed pussy, and then he knelt beside her and for the first time she saw Paul's cock. Long, but leaner than Aidan's with a cute upward curve and ludicrously, rampantly erect. Jodie worked her fingers furiously inside her panties at the gorgeous sight as she watched Paul kiss Claire tenderly, then position himself between her legs, ready to slide that long lean rigid member home.

"Lucky bitch!" thought Jodie, her fingers frantic now on her clit, desperate to watch the conclusion of the action and bring herself to her long-postponed climax.

But Claire rolled to one side. "Trop fatiguée!" she said.

"No, no, no!" thought Jodie. "You can't be too tired! What about that poor sweet erect cock!!!" She wanted to cry at the sheer waste.

Paul rolled off his girlfriend and lay back in frustration. Aidan's car passed through the gate on the far side of the field. Jodie pulled her fingers from inside her panties and hurried back to her own tent.

*****

And now it's 8.30pm and Aidan is boiling up some fresh pasta on the camping stove as the last rays of daylight ebb away. Jodie watches him stir the pot then swig the cheap red wine he bought from the supermarket. He's on his second glass and she's barely half way through her first but never mind. She pops an olive in her mouth and enjoys the salty tang on her tongue. Neither of them are saying much but there's a tension in the air between them which Jodie puts down to Aidan sulking and Aidan puts down to Jodie sulking and they're neither of them wrong.

After a bit of clattering, a glugging of olive oil and a grind of pepper Aidan hands a plate of ravioli to Jodie and they sit and eat. The food is good and now the wine begins to take the edge off the tension.

"Babe, I'm sorry. About the milk-shake thing. I just got carried away and... well, you looked so beautiful."

Jodie looks up at him. Sitting there with his big brown eyes, like a dog whose misbehaved waiting for forgiveness. "He really is good-looking" she thought, "and if I don't get fucked tonight I might actually die of frustration."

"I got the mood wrong," he continues. "Sometimes it's hard, you know."

"Actually Aidan, with you it's pretty well always hard."

For a moment he's puzzled. Then it occurs to him she might be joking and her innuendo is deliberate, but he's too nervous about screwing things up again to risk a smile so he sits patiently waiting for another clue.

"Yes, I made a dirty joke," Jodie smiles. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Just, you know, try and have a bit more class in future..."

"You're beautiful," says Aidan. He drinks down some more wine and sits closer to her, putting a hand on her leg. The touch of warm fingers on her thigh makes her crotch tingle again.

They finish the pasta, and move on to dessert -- a box of éclairs Aidan bought in supermarket. It's a peace-offering - Aidan knows Jodie loves an éclair and he watches her open her pretty mouth to take the sticky tube of cream-filled pastry between her lips. He wants to kiss the crumbs from those lips, and then replace the tube of pastry at her lips with his rapidly stiffening cock.

"Come to bed?" he whispers.

Aidan kisses her, but as he does so Jodie glances over his shoulder and sees that Paul and Claire's tent flap is cautiously opening.

"In a bit." She licks a smear of cream from the corner of her lips. "You go in and straighten the mattress out, and I'll finish my wine and tidy up out here first."

"OK babe. Apparently we shouldn't leave anything outside -- the supermarket guy says it's going to rain tonight."

Aidan clambers into their tent. Jodie watches Paul stick his head out of his tent and look around in the evening light. She feels like a naturalist filming the habits a shy nocturnal animal leaving its den. An animal in a T shirt and a very skimpy pair of running shorts. She hopes she'll get a close up.

Paul sees her, and walks over with the borrowed mallet.

"Merci! Thank you..."

Jodie stays seated. She looks up at him. She's glad she's wearing her sun dress. Inevitably at this angle if Paul looks down at her he will see her tits at their best, possible angle. She raises a hand to take the mallet and the movement makes the strap of her dress slide off her left shoulder. She pretends she is unaware of this.

"Tu veux du vin?" she asks, and offers him her own glass. He happily takes a gulp.

Jodie pats the ground invitingly and Paul sits across from her. She stretches her feet out in front of her towards him and the movement offers Paul an enticing glimpse under the hem of her short dress, a flash of white cotton at the top of her tanned thighs. For a second he holds his breath. His cock, tense with the pressure of unspent cum, starts to swell at the sight of Jodie's parted thighs.

To Jodie Paul looks even cuter in the evening light with his warm smile and his tousled hair. Jodie wants to ask him about Claire, about what he did to her in the tent and would he do it to her too, about where he'd like to put his long lean cock. She wants to kiss him, but of course Aidan is only a few feet away waiting for her, and Claire is in Paul's tent sleeping off her noisy French orgasm and so nothing is ever going to happen. But it's always fun to flirt.

Then Jodie remembers there are two pastries left. She twists round, grabs the box and kneels in front of Paul offering it out to him, closer to him than she really needs to be, her knees touching his knees, her cleavage seemingly offered up to him as well as the cream filled cakes. "Tu veux goutter? Want a taste?"

"Les éclairs. Supère! And for English you call this "Cream pie", n'est-ce pas?"

Jodie laughs. "God no! Cream pie means.... No, we just call them éclairs."

"OK" says Paul. He smiles again.

Twilight, wine, cake, a beautiful laugh and the prettiest tits he has ever seen. Paul's frustrated cock is now in a state of maximum readiness. His eyes meet Jodie's and he leans forward. But when Paul reaches out for a cake he finds, he's not quite sure how, that his fingers are not holding a pastry but are cupping Jodie's left breast.

"Oh!" says Jodie.

"Oh!" says Paul. But Jodie doesn't move away, and Paul doesn't move his hand.

They stay like that for a quite a bit. So of course that's what Claire sees when she sticks her head out of the tent.

Once again Claire's outpouring of furious swearing defeats Jodie's French, but she is pretty sure Claire tells Paul he is a "cochon", a pig, and tells her she is a "salope", a slut. The rest is too fast to follow but when Claire gets in her car and reverses over Paul's tent before driving off it's pretty clear what she means by that too.

"Merde!" says Paul. He runs over to the wreckage but the tent poles are shattered and the canvas in shreds.

Aidan sticks his head out of the tent. "What's happened?"

"Paul had a row with his girlfriend. She's trashed their tent and driven off."

"Crazy!" says Aidan. "OK then. We're all sorted in here. Are you coming to bed?"

There's a rumble of thunder.

"We can't leave him stuck out all night?"

"What?"

"He's got nowhere to sleep, we can't just leave him out here?"

"Seriously?"

Then the rain starts to fall.

"Paul, viens!" Jodie calls. "Tu peux coucher chez nous!"

"What does that mean?"

"I said he could sleep in our tent."

"Ah no! Jodie! There's no room."

But Paul hurries over, and he and Jodie gather up the things outside the tent and hastily pass them through to Aidan, then as the summer downpour breaks they all three squeeze into the tent together.

"Merci!" says Paul. "Thank you much."

"For fuck's sake!" says Aidan.

"He says you're welcome" says Jodie to Paul.

It's a tight fit and there's a hasty rearranging or bags and boxes not to mention some muttered swearing from Aidan. Paul unrolls his sleeping bag, and then the three of them lie down, Aidan on the left, Paul on the right and Jodie lying in the space between them, still in her summer dress under a light blanket.

The rain tips down and the three of them try to sleep.

*********

Forty minutes later Jodie remains totally awake. She lies there in the pitch dark, aware of every bump in the foam mattress beneath her, all the lumps in her pillow and something that feels like corner of the box of éclairs pressing against the top of her head.

On her left big, clumsy, puppyish, too-much-wine-filled Aidan snores gently. On her right Paul's slow breathing suggest he is asleep too. Outside the rain is tipping down, and Jodie has no idea how she's supposed to sleep when she's spent all day not quite having an orgasm and now she is lying flat on her back in the dark with a cock either side of her and absolutely no prospect of a fuck.

Aidan rolls over and mutters something in his sleep. He's turned towards her now and Jodie feels his hair against her shoulder. She remembers the excitement of their encounter in the woods. His tongue on her cunt. Then the hot pressure of his erection lodged in the cleft of her ass.

Yes, no doubt about it, she thought, Aidan has a great cock. Jodie likes the way it springs to attention the moment he sees her. She's known Aidan to get hard at just the sight of her bra on the radiator. She remembers how his thick cock follows her around the room like it was a compass and she was magnetic North. But then why, when he had her cunt dripping wet and desperate for his cum did he screw it all up? Why the obsession cramming that thing up her bum? Stupid. And that trick with the milk shake. What a pervert. It would serve him right if her attention did stray occasionally...

And then there's Paul. She thinks about Paul's eyes, dark, boyish. He must be twenty-four at most. Much too young for her really. But then again, he seems to like her tits. She thinks about his mouth and fingers and the groans of pleasure they brought from Claire. She thinks about him drinking her wine is his T shirt and running shorts. Shorts that did nothing to conceal his over-excited cock, his own personal tent pole, when he touched her tit. It was fun the way she turned him on so much. And now here he is next to her in the tent, just a few inches away. She wonders if he's a deep sleeper. She wonders how his skin would feel under her fingers. She wonders about his cock.

Still lying flat on her back with Aidan nuzzled against her left shoulder she stealthily puts out her right hand and her fingers seek out Paul's body. Gently her fingertips brush against the lean muscle of his forearm. Soft hairs. Warm skin. She softly inches her fingers up his naked arm. Will he wake up? She tells herself she will stop if his breathing changes.

She finds his bicep. Relaxed but firm. She wants to feel more now, and extends her arm a little further until her fingers find the thin cotton T shirt stretched over his chest. It's a nice chest. Smooth. Strong. Her hand explores downwards now to the exposed skin of a slim and muscular midriff, and there they encounter the waistband at the top of his shorts. She stops there. This is The Border. If she crosses it will it Claire will have been right to call her "salope". After all, Jodie isn't the kind of slut who wants to touch a handsome French guy's cock while her fiancé is sleeping just inches away, is she? But then the ache in her moist cunt tells her that yes, maybe she is that kind of slut. Her fingers slide under the waistband.

Inside Paul's shorts she feels the heat of his body more intensely, and her fingers find the soft tangle of pubic hair. Her hand inches down further almost shaking with excitement at the illicit anticipation of touching his cock.

Beside her Aidan shifts his weight and grunts. She wonders what he'd do if he woke up to find her with her hand like this, and her head says stop, you're cheating on your fiancé, and her body says "don't worry about it, you deserve cock," and her body wins. And Jodie's fingertips make contact.