Girl at the Peace Camp

- Dad, this is Siobhan. She's come to join us from Ireland.

- Hi Siobhan. Where in Ireland?

- County Donegal. Bunbeg, you won't have heard of it, it's not even big enough to be called a village.

Sandy burst out laughing:

- I've not only heard of it, I've been there. I've even sung in the pub!

- Well! The pub's always been famous for its music. But what a coincidence. How did you find it?

- It's rather a long story, and it was a many years ago. Well before you were born, in the seventies. But I'll tell you one thing. At that time there was a regularly bus service from almost every village in Donegal to Glasgow.

The woman's eyes gleamed:

- I don't mind a long story. Do tell. Mike, get your dad a beer.

He was barely halfway through the tale of his trip to trouble-torn Belfast in the mid seventies, with a musical weekend in Donegal following, when Sandra and Liz came in, hair still damp from their shower. Sandra sat on the floor beside him and took his hand. He tried not to flinch away from her public display of fondness. She sensed his unease:

- Don't be daft man, everybody knows by now. Nobody has a problem with it. Unless you do?

He felt himself redden:

- No, of course not.

She squeezed his hand:

- Well then, get on with what you were telling Siobhan and Mike.

Beers and conversation flowed for a couple of hours, and the fug of tobacco and weed became thicker. Sandy sat back, temporarily out of the discussion, suffused with a profound sense of well-being. Sandra squeezed his hand, moved her head to his ear:

- I think it's time to get back to the van and fuck. And I'm dying to know what secrets you bought in Helensburgh. I know they're for me, aren't they?

- Maybe... and fucking you in the van is the best offer I've had tonight. So aye, let's move.

She stumbled a bit on the way through the trees and shrubbery. She'd had quite a lot of weed. He shivered in anticipation, remembering how incredibly sexually aroused his ex had become on weed.

At the doors of the van she stopped, drew the dress up over her head:

- Need to pee again before we go in. Watch.

Her nakedness enthralled him. And the intimacy of what she was about to do, and wanted to share with him, touched his heart. She watched as he removed shorts and shirt, his erection bobbing. She grasped a branch for support as she crouched, and as she began to void herself, grunted:

- Cock. In my mouth. As I piss. Need cock. Now.

Jesusfuck. This beautiful, delicious, filthy girl. He loved her depravity, stepped closer, watched and felt her mouth close on his erection. She groaned around his cock as she emptied her bladder; finally sighed:

- Now you.

She gripped him gently. And as before, when his fountain had subsided, she took him in her mouth to drain him. Swallowed, smiling:

- Now take me, when you've cleaned the piss from my cunt. Get inside.

He followed her nakedness into the van, watched as she lay, legs splayed, on the bed. He knelt and licked her voraciously, no teasing tonight. She groaned as his fingers slid into her, stroking and rubbing where nobody had touched her before. Felt her orgasm rising as his teeth tugged and twisted her nipples. But she had to... she cried out:

- Stop Sandy! I need to pee.

He licked her eyes, murmured:

- No you don't, my sweet slut. You're going to squirt. Just let go.

His head moved to her groin to lap her offering. Her legs twitched, her hips rose, as the explosion built in her. She wailed as her body contorted. Never in her life had she felt anything like this, hovering on the edge in ecstatic agony. His fingers dug into the pad of special flesh inside her, and she detonated with a terrible scream.

Sandy lapped the nectar as it erupted from her cunt, delighted that he'd been able to give this sweet lassie such an experience. He knew as soon as she said she had to pee that she'd never had a squirting orgasm before. But she was very still and quiet. He raised his head in concern, gazed on her face, completely relaxed. She'd passed out. He eased up beside her, slid his arms round her, kissed her eyes, licked her ear, feathered her lips with his. Presently her eyelids flickered open. She smiled at him, wavering light from the solitary candle reflected in her blue irises:

- Sandy... what... what was that? What happened?

- My sweet girl, you had a gspot orgasm. And it was so intense that you passed out for a moment. How do you feel?

Her arms went round his neck and she pressed her lips to his:

- I've never... I've never ever experienced anything as wonderful in my life, dear man.

- I'm so glad for you, sweet lassie. It was a privilege to be part of that. And your ejaculate is truly the nectar of the gods.

Her face creased in a puzzled frown:

- My ejaculate?

His fingers stroked her wet mons, and he put them to her lips:

- Aye, this ejaculate Sandra. You squirted, and I know it was your first time.

He kissed her to forestall any further questions. She needed to relish where she was, not worry her head with the whys and wherefores:

- Can we change the subject please? I thought you wanted to know what I'd bought in Helensburgh?

Her face lit up:

- Course I do, old man. Show me!

He reached for his jacket on the hanger, withdrew a small 'Boots the Chemist' bag from the pocket:

- I'm afraid bourgeois Helensburgh is lacking in sex shops, so this is the best I could do.

She emptied the bag. Out slipped... a small bottle of baby oil, and an electric toothbrush. Her face fell. He kissed her eyes and whispered:

- Sometimes one has to improvise. The town can't supply anything as vulgar as anal lube. Baby oil's the nearest I could get. If it's good for a soft wee baby's skin, it's good for lubricating your arse. And I'm taking your arse again tonight, my slut.

She shivered as she heard the hard commanding timbre of his last words:

- And the toothbrush?

- You'll find out what that's for. Now, open your legs. Lift your knees up and hold them wide apart. You need fucked hard.

Shit, his voice again. She melted. And complied. His cock throbbed at the sight of her gaping welcoming cunt, the delightful crinkle of her dark hole. He lunged into her, his carefully-restrained need loosed. She was his to use, he knew she needed it all. And by fuck she'd get it. Though he was hard, he wasn't hard enough for her arse yet. He'd already orgasmed in her twice today, and when a man's in his sixties three times in a day is rare. He needed to fuck her glutinous clutching cunt before he took her arse. And he did, ravishing and plundering, caring for her need, aye, but relishing his own pleasure more. Her hips began to rise and jerk inexorably. It was time to be dirty, to stimulate her. He licked her ear as he pillaged her sex, and whispered:

- When you asked me to talk dirty to you as you wanked on the bike in Glen Fruin... and I told you about my threesomes, you mentioned you have a bi friend. Have you had sex with her?

She was gasping now:

- Aye, once.

- I want to fuck your arse as you eat her cunt.

- Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

She exploded under him. He withdrew from her when she'd subsided He hadn't cum yet:

- Arse now, I'm going to fuck your slutty arse. From behind this time. Hands and knees, sexgirl.

- Yes. Sir.

He anointed himself with baby oil as she twisted round, then glugged the bottle on her anus and fingered the lubrication into her. Wiped his fingers dry on the sleeping bag. Grabbed her wild hair:

- I'm going to use your arse as my cumdump, slut. D'you think your bi friend would be up for a threesome with us?

He rammed hard into her, confident that the oil made it pleasurable for her tightness:

- Well?

- I'll ask her. Sir.

- Better with the oil?

- It's all pleasure and no pain. Take me master. Spunk your slut's arse.

He was nearly there. Fuck, three times in twenty-four hours! That had only happened once with his ex, over three years previously. But Sandra needed pushed over the edge again:

- D'you think your friend will let me fuck her arse as she eats your cunt?

- Ohfuckfuck jeesus...

He tugged and twisted her nipples viciously. Her anus tightened on him as she came. She wasn't even touching her cunt. Pure anal orgasm. His mind blanked as his ejaculate surged in her. Dirty sweet bumfuck. He collapsed on her, done. Remained there, chest heaving and sweat pouring from every pore, for a couple of minutes. Then eased himself off her, and slithered down to clasp her in his arms:

- That was beyond words, Sandra. So beautiful. Thank you.

Their mouths twisted together, unable to part. Till she pushed him away with a mock-grimace painted on her wet face:

- Would you really fuck her arse whilst she ate my cunt?

He laughed:

- Sweetness, it was just a dirty fantasy. I was trying to get you off.

- Hm. Maybe. It did work though. I must be a really dirty girl to get off on that.

- You're the most deliciously dirtygirl I've encountered -- he was going to tell a lie, paused, thought better of it -- in the past two years.

Her face fell:

- I thought you were going to say ever?

- I was, but it would have been a lie. I'll tell you all about it another time. But you're at least as beautifully dirty as she was. And much, much younger.

- So dirtiest equal then? Sounds like a challenge to get to dirtiest ever. I love a challenge!

He kissed all over her face. He was totally bewitched by this girl-woman. He'd worry about the consequences later:

- I think you might win it, Sandra. I think you just might.

- You mean if you get to fuck Jenny's arse as she eats my cunt?

He slapped her face playfully:

- No! Silly girl! This is about you and me.

- Aye, we'll see what you say when you meet Jenny. Now -- sitting up, serious again -- what's the electric toothbrush for?

- You'll soon learn lassie. But first, is there a can of beer in your van? Your old man could do with a drink.

- No beer, sorry. But I've a half-bottle of whisky. And some bottled water.

- Even better. May I have some please?

He couldn't keep his eyes from her as she opened the slim cupboard against the side of the van. Even in the dim light, the carpentry looked well-executed. He'd have to ask her about the van. Glugging noises, and she turned, holding two teacups:

- Sorry, no glasses. It's Grouse, hope that's OK?

- Best blended whisky there is.

- Water?

- Same again please.

She poured from the bottle:

- So. You have your drink. What's the toothbrush for?

- Your clit. Think about it.

- Ohh. Sounds like it might be a bit rough?

- I know you like rough. It depends how hard it's pressed on your clit. If it's lightly held, it's just a tickle. Pushed down hard, it's rough, aye. Now, slainthe!

They tinkled their cups together -- bone china, he noted -- and sipped. He smiled at her, and she knew from his eyes that he cared:

- So where did you find your good taste in whisky Sandra?

- Ach, where d'you think? My dad of course! My parents have good taste in everything.

- They certainly know how to raise a daughter to be a sex-goddess.

She smiled shyly, no longer the confident siren. A wee girl again, he thought:

- Sandy, I'm not... I'm not perfect, you know.

- Nobody's perfect, my dearest lassie. I want to learn all of you, perfections and imperfections. I hope I will in time.

He was aware after he said it that he'd made a commitment to this beautiful girl-woman. Couldn't help it. He finished his dram, put the cup down carefully beside the bed:

- Finish your whisky, slut. Your clit needs the toothbrush before you sleep.

That voice again. Fuck. Her viscera churned:

- Aye. Sir.

- Open wide, slut. Master needs to taste the cunt he owns.

He picked up the toothbrush. Bent to kiss and lick the damp wee gorge of her sex, relishing the smell and taste of her essence. Her clit was small and delicate, barely larger than a grain of cooked Basmati rice. He lowered the buzzing brushes to it carefully, so they just feathered her acute sensitivity. She jerked at the touch, gasped. His hand held steady, his eyes on hers, vicariously enjoying her pleasure:

- Harder, slut, want it harder?

- Yes. Master.

His hand moved a fraction. Her hips rose, involuntarily seeking more pressure. Deep sighs became moans. Her irises turned upwards. He pressed a fraction more and she issued a feral grunt, her groin pressing further up, seeking more sensation on the clitoris. High needy whining now, her eyeballs almost invisible. He forced the innocent weapon down hard. The most incredibly sensuous sound, like the unholy mating call of grey Atlantic seals. Her body twisted and soared; both the brush and his hand were wet as she howled. Subsided, settled on the bed. Her eyeballs returned to his view. She blinked:

- Well, who'd a thunk a toothbrush could do that?

- Time to sleep.

He bit his tongue to stop himself calling her 'darling'. She smiled:

- Aye, to sleep, perchance to dream. But no need for dreams after today. I couldn't ever have a better dream. Goodnight Sandy.

*****

Sandra woke first to the insistent pounding on the back doors of the van. And the voice:

- Dad, Sandra, wake up please. Now.

Mike's voice. She shook Sandy awake:

- Sandy! Lover, wake up. Mike's banging at the door.

He shivered himself semi-awake, heard his son's voice, raised his own:

- Be with you in a moment Michael.

Struggled into his clothes, half-asleep, glanced at his watch. Eight am. No way Michael would normally be up now. Opened the door, bleary-eyed, his lover shrugged into the sleeping bag behind him:

- What's up son?

- I just had a call on my mobile. Alec's been taken into hospital dad, the Western. We need to get to Glasgow. Now.

Sandy was suddenly wakeful. Alec was his elder son:

- What's happened love?

- I don't know exactly. He was out running this morning. Did something to his leg. A passer-by found him and called an ambulance. Just as well he had his mobile on him. He called me five minutes ago.

- OK Michael, I'll be ready to go in five minutes. We can take our bikes on the train at Helensburgh. Partick's only a few minutes from the Western, we can be there in about an hour, depending on the train times.

He turned back into the van as Michael scampered off to gather his things and pack them in his panniers. Sandra was sitting up in bed, her small tight breasts exposed, worry creasing her brow:

- I heard what Mike said. Didn't know he had a brother. I'm so sorry Sandy. For Alec, for you and Mike. And for me. I'd hoped...

He put a finger softly to her lips:

- Wheesht lassie. I'd hoped too... you know I need to go. But -- he leaned in and kissed her warmly -- we haven't seen the last of each other. Here -- his fingers moved in his bumbag, emerged with a card -- here's my address, phone and email. Get in touch with me soon sweetness, please. I care for you as well as I love fucking you. Now, I must be off. Contact me soon, please. You're a very remarkable young woman, and I'm so fortunate to have met you.

And he was gone.

That afternoon, James had a call on his mobile from Mike. Alec had tripped on a tree-root whilst running, torn a ligament in his knee as he fell. Experienced intense agony till the the ambulance came, and the hospital staff had bandaged it. He'd be on crutches for a few weeks. But nothing near life-threatening. James gathered the camp members and told them. Sandra felt everyone's eyes on her. As soon as she could, she retired to the privacy of her van and called Sandy on her mobile. She got the answering machine. She was asleep, or otherwise not answering, when he returned the call to her voicemail.

Mike came back to the camp the next day, and said his dad had to look after Alec for a couple of weeks.

Sandra couldn't bring herself to return Sandy's call. He kept looking at his phone as Alec became more confident on the crutches, but decided not to call her back again. It had just been a fantasy encounter; one which could have no future. A young woman of eighteen didn't need an ongoing relationship with a man in his sixties. So he got on with his life, or tried to. He lived alone: his sons were grown-up and had their own worlds.

*****

Six weeks after his visit to the camp, his doorbell rang. He didn't get many visitors, and wasn't expecting anyone. He left his computer, opened the door.

Sandra wore the peasant dress she had on the first night they met, and a huge rucsac lay beside her. She smiled shyly:

- My parents don't know I've left the camp. I had to see you. May I come in please?

- Ohh. My darling girl... I've never stopped thinking about you. I'd nearly convinced myself you were just an old man's fantasy.

- Couldn't get you out of my head either Sandy. And I'm no fantasy. Feel my cunt. I'm dripping. For you, man.