Billy Bamford Goes Birdwatching

Part One

Billy Bamford was a simple lad with a big heart.

Born and raised in the Yorkshire town of Huddersfax, he left school at sixteen with no qualifications. Since then he'd been a paper boy, a milkman, a rag and bone man and now an apprentice mechanic. He lived in a flat above the garage with a single bed, a small colour TV, a microwave and a carefully curated selection of Page 3 clippings stuck to the wall. It was a happy, uneventful life.

He had been eighteen at Easter and now the first summer of his adult life stretched ahead of him. His work was easy and he spent his weekends walking the moors and dales.

This Saturday's walk was going particularly well. The tip of his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as he ticked off the hen harrier in his battered notebook. Feeling like he was unlikely to top this achievement, he started the descent back down to town. As he did so, he was surprised to find two of his old classmates - Liam and Stew - striding across the moor, perpendicular to the path.

"Alright, lads, what are you up to?"

"Same as you," Liam said with a smirk. "Birdwatching."

Billy frowned. They'd never shown any interest in birdwatching at school - they had in fact bullied him for it until he'd become too big for them to bully and they'd moved on to easier targets. Nor did they seem to have any binoculars.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," confirmed Stew with a broad smile. "We've found a great new spot. Loads of exotic birds. Do you want to have a look?"

Billy hesitated. He was done for the day and he didn't like Liam and Stew... but it was nice that they shared his hobby.

"Okay. So what are you looking for, particular like?"

"Tits," said Liam which caused Stew to explode into laughter for some reason.

Billy frowned. "No need to come out here for those. There's plenty of tits in town."

"Sure," said Liam. He looked like he was struggling to keep a straight face. "We're just tired of all the tits in town. Aren't we, Stew?"

"Oh aye," Stew agreed.

Billy just shrugged and followed after them. He couldn't work out where they were going - nowhere near the best spots for birding - but they seemed to have a clear destination in mind. They dropped down and the gorse and bracken gave way to trees and thickets of rhododendrons.

"Woodland birds, is it?" he asked.

"Yeah, summat like that," said Liam. "In fact, we'll probably be able to see them from up that tree."

Billy frowned. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. Now, give us a leg up mate."

Billy obliged first Liam and then Stew.

"Right, now pass your binoculars up to us." Stew hung down from a branch and waggled his hand insistently.

Billy's frown deepened. "I'm not giving you my noccers."

"It's not your fucking knockers I'm after. Just pass them up."

Billy wasn't going to pass them up but he'd followed them this far. He sighed. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. He swung himself up and then clambered onto the same branch as the other two. From up here you could see that the rhododendrons formed a line along the outside of a chain link fence.

"Gonna have to get further up and along," Stew muttered to himself. "That one'll hold, I reckon." He moved up higher and the other two followed, the branch starting to creak alarmingly under its unusual load.

"If I get on the end here, I can balance myself here and then I just need them."

Stew grabbed for the binoculars, Billy snatched them back while grabbing onto Liam to steady himself, Liam lost his balance and took a fist full of Stew's jumper. The three lads looked at each other, their eyes correspondingly wide and then they fell.

* * *

Billy blearily opened his eyes. He was staring up into the irate face of a bearded man.

"What are you fucking jokers up to?"

"We were birdwatching," said Billy, blinking and shaking his head.

The man snorted. "I'll bet you fucking were. Well, you're lucky you didn't snap your necks. Now, get up the lot of you and come with me."

"Or what?" asked Liam with a sneer. A slightly wobbly sneer, it had to be said.

"Or I set my fucking dog on you."

The three lads sat up sharply. The man interrogating them was wearing the classic navy blue jumper of a security guard and was indeed holding the leash of a dog. One that was staring intently at the three young men.

"Does he bite?" Billy asked nervously.

"Not if you do as I fucking say."

The security guard clearly didn't feel the need to introduce himself. He just marched them straight into the nearest building, tying up his dog outside. He then propelled them through a series of corridors with none too gentle shoves until they reached a door. He rapped sharply.

"Come in."

He opened the door and pushed the three of them through into some sort of office.

"I went to investigate that disturbance, Mrs Fletcher. Found these three peeping Toms."

"Excellent work, Mr Burnside. I'll take it from here."

The man didn't look too happy about this. "You sure?" he said with a frown. "I could stay until the police arrive."

Billy's stomach felt funny at the mention of the police. Then Mrs Fletcher smiled and he felt better again. She was sat behind a large desk and had lowered a pair of glasses onto the paperwork in front of her as they'd entered. Billy wasn't very good with ages but she was older than his big sister and younger than his mum. She wore a white blouse with more than one button undone and a beaded necklace that rested on a prominent bust. She looked a bit like Billy's favourite teacher from primary school, Miss Brown.

"No, I'll be quite alright, Mr Burnside," she said.

Mr Burnside grumbled as he let himself out.

"Well, boys," said Mrs Fletcher as she stood up and walked round the desk towards them. She wore a grey pencil skirt that contained a bum every bit as prominent as her bust. "Trespass at the very least. Likely criminal damage. I'm not sure what the offence of being a voyeur is called in law but I know it is frowned on. Do you have anything to say for yourselves before I call the police?"

Billy didn't. He was still trying to puzzle out how he'd ended up in this situation and what the word 'voyeur' meant.

Luckily - or otherwise - Liam was more quick witted. Or perhaps more conniving. Or really just a seasoned liar.

"It's like this, see," he said. "Well, we wanted to join the club, didn't we?"

Mrs Fletcher rested her well upholstered rump on the edge of her desk and raised one eyebrow. "I see."

"Yeah," said Stew, emboldened. "We're like naturalists and that."

Billy nodded enthusiastically. He wasn't sure why this was helpful but he was indeed a naturalist and if that stopped him from getting into trouble then all the better.

"And are you all over eighteen?"

They all nodded.

"And are you all blind?"

They all stopped nodding.

"Er," said Liam, demonstrating that perhaps he wasn't so quick witted after all.

"Most prospective members walk through the front gate and into the main reception."

"Oh right. Yeah," said Liam. You could almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

"Yeah, we came over the back way. Across the moors and that. Got a bit lost."

"Got a bit lost, found the perimeter of our fine establishment and, rather than walking round to the front, jumped over the fence?"

Billy didn't really follow what was going on but he knew this was a mistake he could correct.

"Oh no," he said. "We didn't jump the fence. We climbed up a tree to look at the birds."

Despite this being the honest truth, both Liam and Stew elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Mrs Fletcher smiled, unperturbed. "Well," she said, clapping her hands together. "I am delighted to hear that this has all been a big misunderstanding. I'm sure we don't need to get the police involved."

Beside Billy, Liam let out a small sigh of relief. But this was short lived.

"Right, boys, if you just want to pop your clothes on the chairs behind you then we can start processing your applications. Let me just grab three membership forms."

"You what?" said Stew. It was a sentiment echoed by the other two.

"Your clothes," repeated Mrs Fletcher, a puzzled note entering her voice. "Take them off and we can get started. Oh," she said, as if a realisation was dawning. "Don't worry, they'll be perfectly safe; I'll have someone come through and take them to a locker."

"Why the bloody hell would we take our clothes off?" exploded Liam.

Mrs Fletcher frowned. Her pleasant demeanour disappeared and a steely glint entered her eye.

"I thought you were - in your own words - 'like naturalists and that'. You did, of course, mean naturists and this is, of course, a naturist club. A club you wish to join. A club for which being naked is a prerequisite for entry. So please, do remove your clothes, boys. Unless..." Her facial expression became even more dangerous. "You are not naturists at all. That everything you have just told me was, in fact, a lie. In which case I'm afraid I would have to call the police after all."

"I'm not fucking having this," spat Liam. "Stupid fucking weirdos." He strode to the door and yanked it open. But his exit was impeded by the not inconsequential figure of Mr Burnside blocking his way.

"Everything okay, Mrs Fletcher?" he asked.

"Perfectly, thank you," said Mrs Fletcher, completely unruffled by Liam's outburst.

"The young men here are just considering which they prefer: the liberating sensation of public nudity or the long arm of the law and a criminal record."

"A tricky one, Mrs Fletcher." Mr Burnside scratched his beard as he ruminated on this conundrum. "I'm not one for wandering round in the buff myself. No offence, mind." Mrs Fletcher graciously inclined her head. "But nor am I a fan of being on the wrong side of the police. A right shower of bastards they are at the Huddersfax cop shop, I tell thee. I think, on balance, I'd choose getting my kit off."

"An excellent choice. Boys?"

"I don't want any trouble," said Billy. "I just came up here to go birdwatching." And he pulled his T-shirt over his head.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" asked Stew. "She can't make you strip. It's... it's illegal!"

Mrs Fletcher ignored him. "What's your name?" she asked Billy.

"Billy. Billy Bamford."

"Well, Billy Bamford, I think you've made an excellent decision."

Billy beamed at this praise. Liam and Stew scowled.

"Why, boys, whatever are you afraid of?

The two looked at each other and came to the same sullen conclusion: there was no avoiding the inevitable. Grumbling, Liam and Stew started to get undressed as Billy started on his shoes. But, it had to be said, rather reluctantly.

All three of them jumped as Mrs Fletcher slammed her hand down on the desk. "I'm not pissing about! Get on with it or I really will ring the police. I've got better things to do than waste any more of my time on your three idiots."

The three boys picked up the pace and hurriedly disrobed until they were standing in front of Mrs Fletcher in their underpants. Despite the fact their crotches were uncovered, they all instinctively clasped their hands in front of themselves.

Mrs Fletcher put her head in her hands. "This isn't school. You haven't forgotten your PE kit. Nudism requires nudity."

The boys looked at her. She looked back. Her hand moved towards her telephone.

The three boys dropped their pants as one.

Mrs Fletcher started at Billy.

"What?" he asked.

Liam and Stew stared at Billy.

"What the fuck?" said Liam, incredulously.

"Jesus," said Stew.

"What?" repeated Billy.

You see, Billy Bamford was a simple lad with a big heart and an enormous penis. But no one had ever sat down with him and explained that most men don't walk around with six inches of soft sausage in their pants.

Eventually, Mrs Fletcher cleared her throat. "Excellent," she said, sounding somewhat distracted. "That wasn't too hard, was it?" Uttering this phrase seemed to distract her further but she pulled herself together and picked up some paper from her desk.

"Okay, now that you have finally managed the first step, you can start filling in these membership forms." She handed one to each of them. "Personal details here, sign and date here, and fees are here."

Billy just blankly took his form. Liam, however, was quicker to absorb this information.

"I'm not paying any fucking fee," he said.

Stew waved the form in the air in front of him. "It's a fucking fortune!"

"Yes, this is a rather exclusive club with excellent facilities and a corresponding membership fee. We pride ourselves on our clientele and you will be surprised to hear that clientele does not consist of scruffy perverts in desperate need of a wash. So take your clothes and get out of my fucking club before I get Mr Burnside to set Tinkerbell on you," she roared. "Not you, Billy," she added as the three lads grabbed their clothes and rushed out of the room. Billy stopped in his tracks as the pale arses of his erstwhile companions disappeared through the door.

Mrs Fletcher stepped behind her desk and seemed to magically regain her sangfroid.

"Have a seat, Billy, dear," she said.

Billy sat. It was a bit strange to be sat naked in a room with a fully clothed and quite attractive woman. But she wasn't shouting at him any more and it didn't seem like he was in trouble so that was good.

"Am I to take it that you really are a naturalist? That you really did come here birdwatching?"

Billy nodded.

"And do you know what a naturist is, Billy?"

He frowned. "Something to do with being naked?"

"That's right, dear. And how do you feel about being naked right now?"

Billy shrugged.

"Do you feel uncomfortable?"

Billy shrugged again. "Not really. Well, it's natural, isn't it?"

"It is indeed," said Mrs Fletcher, beaming. "You seem like quite the natural to naturism. And you also have some natural, um, talents which I think will be of interest to our members."

This surprised Billy: no one had ever said he was talented before. He had struggled at school, causing even his beloved Miss Brown to despair at times. Engines weren't proving much easier. "Let's try one more time, eh, Billy?" was Mr Jones's frequent refrain. He was good at lifting heavy things and spotting birds but he wasn't sure either of those counted as talents.

"And because of those natural talents," continued Mrs Fletcher, "I am interested in offering you a complimentary membership. Complimentary means free," she added quickly.

"But what would I do with it?" Billy asked in confusion.

"What would you do with it?" Mrs Fletcher looked momentarily taken aback but she rallied. "But of course! You haven't seen our wonderful facilities yet! Why, let me arrange a tour!" She picked up a walkie talkie from her desk. "Miss Walker? Are you nearby? Yes? Able to pop over to my office for a minute? Excellent." She popped the radio down again. "Miss Walker, our assistant manager, is just round the corner," she said to Billy. "She will be here shortly and can take you round the club. Ah, here she is now."

Billy looked up as the door opened and his jaw dropped. A goddess had entered the room.

She was the most perfect woman Billy had ever seen and he could see her perfectly as she was entirely naked. Alice Walker had a wide-eyed, plump-lipped, girl-next-door face framed by long brown hair suitable for a shampoo advert. At only 23, her body was simultaneously athletic, elegant and lewd. A pair of breasts almost slightly too large for her slim frame sat high and firm on her chest above a flat tummy. The public hair on her mons was trimmed into a neat arrow pointing up to those magnificent breasts and a thigh gap framed her naked labia. Long legs continued downwards to her Dunlop plimsolls.

"Cor, you look like one of them Page 3 birds," Billy whispered.

Miss Walker raised an eyebrow towards Mrs Fletcher at this remark. Mrs Fletcher nodded down towards Billy's crotch. The young lady's eyes followed Mrs Fletcher's gaze and then her other eyebrow rapidly rose to join its partner.

"Yes, you will see that Billy is an excellent candidate for a free membership."

"A free membership? Yes, I can see that, well, um..."

Mrs Fletcher swooped in to help her slightly befuddled colleague. "Don't worry, I can take care of all the paperwork. I just need you to take Billy round and show him the sights."

This gave Miss Walker the chance to recover her composure.

"So, Billy," she said, smiling. "Would you like to accompany me on a tour?"

Billy nodded and got to his feet. Both women's eyes darted downwards as the biggest penis either of them had ever seen - and, as manager and assistant manager of a naturist club, they had seen more than a few - slapped against his meaty thighs.

"Excellent," repeated Mrs Fletcher, seemingly to herself.

Part Two

1. The Tennis Court

Billy Bamford was having a befuddling day. This morning he had popped up the moors without a care in the world for a spot of birdwatching. Now he was trailing along behind the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen in his life. She was stark naked. He was stark naked. Everyone they walked passed was stark naked.

It would take some getting used to.

But then it seemed to be taking some getting used to for everyone else. Everywhere they went, Billy and Miss Walker drew stares.

Billy walked along after his guide, his eyes repeatedly brought back to her bum. Miss Walker stopped and smiled at him over her shoulder. Billy's eyes moved up to her face. "Let's start with the tennis courts, shall we? Do you play?"

"I did at school."

"Well, it's like riding a bike. Just through here. Oh great, there's a court free."

****

Suzanne Cooper never thought she'd become a member of a naturist club. Indeed, she had been highly suspicious when her boyfriend had bought her the membership as a present. He had emphasised the luxury and exclusivity; she had thought he wanted to ogle other women with bigger boobs. He had said he was very happy with her boobs... and, to be fair, he had been very persuasive on that point. So Suzanne had let herself succumb - it was a bit of excitement in an otherwise humdrum life, after all - and, to her surprise, she discovered she loved it. The initial embarrassment was excruciating but that had quickly been replaced by a sense of liberation. Now she played tennis naked in public every week and she couldn't imagine missing it.

She hadn't been entirely wrong though. Her boyfriend did like to look at other women. She wasn't jealous, exactly. She liked her boobs, her boyfriend liked her boobs, some of the breasts of other members looked downright impractical, particularly for tennis. And Suzanne liked a not-entirely-chaste look at the men (and sometimes the women too) herself, from time to time. But she was discreet. And, mostly, so was he.

Except for Alice bloody Walker.

The assistant manager was indecently attractive and her boyfriend's tongue almost fell out of his mouth every time he saw her. Again, Suzanne wasn't jealous (though - if she was being honest - she was slightly envious). It was just... really bloody annoying. It was particularly annoying that if Alice was nearby for any sustained period of time, her boyfriend would draw Suzanne to one side and suggest they retire home for a spot of how's your father. Could he be any more transparent?

And - oh look - there was Alice right now. Great.

Alice strode onto the court next to them looking as annoyingly gorgeous as ever and escorting a new member. A new member who...

"Ow!" Suzanne yelped suddenly as a tennis ball thudded into her knee.

"Look alive, Suze! 15-love," shouted her boyfriend from across the net, grinning at her. She hadn't even noticed he was serving.

Because on the court next to her and directly in her eye line was a young man with the largest penis she'd ever seen. Or even dreamt of. She quickly pulled her eyes away, embarrassed to find her cheeks reddening as her boyfriend served again.