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It seems a long time ago now, the legendary long hot summer of ’76.

The country basked in endless sunny days without a cloud in the sky, hose-pipes were banned and the grass died whilst the TV broadcasted messages about saving water and showed clips about empty reservoirs with dry cracked mud and old drowned villages accessible once more.

I had just finished school, had turned eighteen and wondering what the future held. I absolutely had no idea what to do – except that I knew what I wasn’t going to be.

I was not going to be a teacher, not in any lifetime; I had had enough of classrooms and looking at the dead look in the eyes of a middle aged man recounting endless drivel that had no use to kids who had little interest in learning it.

I had no intention of turning into that middle aged man with leather arm patches.

I didn’t want to work in a boring office like my father, shuffling paper covered in figures. I might work in retail or industry – except that I didn’t want to be a salesman paid in a competition against my colleagues. Other than that, my prospects were an empty book.

I remember the ride on the school bus every day, now finished. I had been regularly distracted from my dilemmas by Adele, a pretty girl from my village who shone with golden blonde hair and a ready smile. Silently every day I had gazed on the waves of radiant locks, never having the courage to start a conversation although she lived in my street; indeed our gardens overlooked each others’.

Adele had always sat in the same seat on the bus, in front of me and alongside her friend Julie. Julie was somewhat plumper and had developed breasts somewhat earlier – to the excitement of the rest of the village boys. However it was Adele, the more athletic of the two who always had my attention. At school she had been a member of the hockey team and did wondrous things to a pair of tight white shorts.

Hmm, happy memories…

She was in the same year as me so like myself, she would be considering her future. I knew that her parents were hoping for her grades to be sufficient to go to university, escape the village and make something of her life.

A regular entertainment for us village kids was to swim at the pil. No ‘Proms’ were held in those days; we entertained ourselves.

We lived on the coast and ‘pil’ (pronounced ‘pill’) was a local word, meaning a gully where a stream had cut a deep path across the flat muddy grassland of a local estuary as it joined the sea. Our village was on the side of a steep hill overlooking the estuary, where the tides were notorious and could flow faster than any of us could swim.

For this reason we would only go there when the tide was incoming so that we would not be swept out to sea but instead we’d eventually end up safely on dry land.

One Saturday morning, knowing that the tide was suitable and that several of my friends would be there, I wore my swimsuit under my jeans and strolled down the hill to the pil. It was conveniently near to an old wartime gunnery range platform which provided a raised area out of the incoming tide with a safe track back to the village.

The tide had ebbed but was now starting to come in, perfect. The others were gathering and I saw Adele wearing a green one-piece costume that showed off her hair shining in the sunshine, long slim legs and her bright smile. I had known her for many years of course but now I saw that womanhood had at last blossomed and a firm pair of breasts had developed along with widening hips.

I stripped off my jeans and T shirt and jumped into the stream, which had steep muddy sides. The seawater was cold despite the sultry weather but as there was no option but to jump straight in – which avoided the bracing shoulder-duck, I quickly became adjusted to the temperature. After a while the tidal current picked up and we had races, challenging each other to see how long we could swim between two points before being swept backwards onto a beach where we could climb out to run back and start the fun again.

Afterwards we lay down talking in the sun on the grass bank of the gunnery platform.

One by one the others drifted away and disappeared along the track until only a couple were remaining. I realised that I had forgotten a towel and anything to change into, so I decided to stay until I dried out enough to put my jeans back on. I closed my eyes and dozed off.

When I woke I found that Adele was lying close by, still wearing the green swimsuit. Her eyes were shut against the blazing sun. As we faced the sea we were hidden from the land, seemingly alone in the world. All the others had left.

I checked out her slim body with young breasts bursting against the cheap skin-tight material,the outlines of her nipples clearly defined. I noticed that a wisp of blonde pubic hair had escaped from the side of the swimsuit where it was cut high around the thighs. Fascinated by this sign canlı bahis of sexuality, my world went suddenly quiet.

As I watched the hairs fluttering in the breeze I noticed that her eyes had opened and she was watching me as I studied her crotch with its slight groove disappearing into the shadowy cleft. I blushed but she made no attempt to clamp her legs together as I expected, nor to snap abuse at me. Instead she put her hands behind her head and looked up at the clear blue sky, where a jet liner passed silently high above leaving a trail of white vapour scarring the clear deep blue.

Slowly I saw the thighs separate even more to allow me a clearer view of the mound of her pussy.

After a while she stood, quickly pulled on her clothes over her costume and with a single word “Bye” strolled off towards the village along the track.

* * *

At that time my parents were building an extension to our house and I was expected to help with labouring jobs; shovelling, barrowing and carrying building materials.

A couple of days after that day of the swim we had a delivery of sand which was tipped from a truck into a massive pile blocking our driveway. Throughout the afternoon and evening I shoveled sand into a wheelbarrow and dumped it around the other side of the house.

As the light faded into dusk and I continued to shift sand I noticed bight lights switch on inside the bungalow across the street – where Adele lived. I could see clearly into a bedroom and Adele was inside, walking around the room alone.

I stood still for a moment, wondering if she could see me in the gathering gloom. As I watched, she removed her T shirt to show a white cotton bra. Then she stooped and when she stood upright I saw that she had also removed her jeans to reveal a pair of tight white cotton panties with a floral pattern. She was holding the jeans, which she tossed onto a chair.

She turned away, reached behind her back and unfastened her bra which she removed and also placed on the chair. She slowly (painfully slowly) turned to face the window, whilst I held my breath lest she notice me watching. She was showing to the world a pair of alabaster white breasts contrasting against the brown skin of the rest of her tanned body.

Her pink nipples were clearly visible as she walked around the room just wearing a pair of girl’s panties on a woman’s body.

The next moment she stood right in front of the window, held both arms wide apart without any consideration of her privacy, grasped the curtains in each hand and closed the curtains across her front and I could see no more.

* * *

The summer went on – and on. It seemed that the weather would never break. I found myself a job working in the stockroom of a large store in the nearby town while I figured what to do with my life.

Then one evening a couple of weeks afterwards I met a friend who said that the tides were about right for another gathering at the pil. The next weekend we all gathered again for a swim and as usual had races against each other and the tide.

Because of the times of the tide it was during the afternoon rather than the morning of the earlier trip and the hazy heat shimmered across the marshland.

Soon the others began to drift away as before and again I found myself alone with Adele.

She was wearing the same costume, as was I – in those days people didn’t have a different swimsuit for every day of the week.

As we lay basking in the sun of the afternoon I noticed Adele sit up straight. “What do think of Julie?”

The random question caught me off guard, “She’s OK. What do you mean?”

Adele squinted at me, “You were always staring at her on the bus, do you fancy her?”

I stammered, for she had obviously noticed my glances but apparently misunderstood them. “No, I don’t. I mean she’s nice and she’s pretty, but I don’t particularly fancy her like some of the others do.”

“She’s got big tits. Boys like big tits.”

I could feel my face reddening, “I don’t, I never thought much of them.”

She leaned forwards and twisted towards me, “Do you like my breasts? They’re not as big as Julie’s, but do you like them?”

I was too embarrassed to make any intelligent answer but nodded stupidly.

Then without warning she pulled the material of her costume forward, so that I could see right down her cleavage. She bent down to show me the entirety of her boobs, including the pink nipples that I had admired previously, “Well, what do you think, are they nice?”

This was a loaded question obviously. What did she expect, detailed criticism?

“They’re lovely, beautiful.”

“Are they too small? Boys prefer big ones don’t they? Are you sure they’re OK?”

I tried to assure her that I liked her breasts no matter what others thought.

She relaxed and lay back on the grassy bank. Then after a minute she reached up to her shoulder-straps and bahis siteleri nonchalantly pulled down the top of her costume, exposing her smooth pale breasts and pink puffy nipples. The swimsuit was ruched around her trim waist as she looked into my face, judging my reaction.

I was stunned by this exhibitionism and said nothing, as she lay back on the grass in the blazing sun.

Then she closed her eyes and spoke. “Do you want to stroke them?”

I wasn’t sure if my ears were working correctly so just lay still taking in the sight. My body quickly reacted though and I could feel my costume getting very tight around my growing erection.

She spoke again. “I’ve never had a boy touch my tits, I want to see what it’s like. Julie said that she loves it, I’ve tried stroking them myself but it didn’t do anything for me.”

Cautiously, slowly, I reached out and brushed the warm, velvety soft skin of her left breast. As I did so the nipple rose and her breathing stopped. My fingers moved down around and past the nipple without touching it, continuing to her flat stomach.

I clumsily reached up, grabbed the breast and squeezed it, feeling the surprising firmness of the flesh. Her hand came up and caught hold of mine. “Don’t do it like that, it was nice the first time.”

She replaced my hand at her shoulder and let it trickle gently down over the delicate skin, “Like that. Do it like that.”

Following her instructions I stroked the breast with a feather-light touch as she lay still and closed her eyes and breathed gently again.

After several minutes she spoke again, “Julie was right, it’s very nice.”

On the next brush I let my hand wander down over her belly, feeling the gentle swell of her belly near to the folds of her costume.

However she was having none of that; firmly my hand was returned to the breast. So I continued for some twenty minutes carefully caressing the soft mound with its bright pink summit.

Eventually the nipple softened and Adele’s breathing became steady as she gazed at the scenery on the further side of the estuary. Only my erection had sustained as my arm was tiring.

I stopped stroking and gazed at my topless neighbour.

After a couple of seconds however she stirred and looked into my eyes, “You’ve stopped.” She quickly pulled her costume back up, securing the straps over her shoulders. “It’s very soothing, I love it.”

She paused. “Do you want to meet me here again tomorrow?”

I was still dumbfounded but managed to reply with a simple “Yes.”

With that, Adele was up and dressing as she walked back along the track.

* * *

So the summer continued to the end. Most afternoons I met Adele at the pil, no matter what the state of the tide. She enjoyed having her breasts stroked and I enjoyed obliging her. She generally wore tight jeans and a T shirt, which was always quickly discarded along with the white cotton bra that was underneath; the low earth bank of the platform afforded us privacy from any prying eyes but it was an isolated spot, far from the village.

I became bolder with the passing weeks and she allowed me to cup her breasts and circle her nipples with the tip of a finger, which would make her tense and bring the nipple instantly to attention.

Sometimes I circled both nipples simultaneously, one clockwise the other anti-clockwise. She enjoyed this and would sit up leaning back on her elbows.

For variety once I tried circling both in the same direction but she preferred the symmetry of opposite circling.

I found that a caress from her breast across her ribs and under her arm-pits made her shudder. A lightly trailed fingernail over the top of her shoulder and down past her breasts to her stomach, below her navel was another favourite, also down the inside of her arm and the crook of her elbow.

Sometimes she rolled onto her stomach and I stroked her back, muscled from the gym and hockey pitch. Once she even removed her jeans, lay on her front and let me run my fingernails delicately over her bottom covered with those inevitable floral panties and then down the backs of her thighs and knees as far as her calves.

Together we explored her body and found the spots that made her sigh – and I learned how to touch those sensitive zones.

But strangely perhaps the contact never progressed further for the whole summer. She would normally only remove her top, lie back with her hands clasped behind her head and I would start stroking. There would be no suggestion of taking the relationship any further. She never touched me in return – which would have probably caused a very embarrassing episode.

Every night though, alone in my room my imagination would fill in the blanks to a swift fulfilment.

Then inevitably one day in September the weather broke with a vengeance. Dark thunderclouds rolled in from the ocean,across the estuary and torrential rain fell. This bahis şirketleri event coincided with me finally deciding on a career and Adele leaving for university.

On the last day before she was to leave I saw her in the village shop. Water dripped from her furled umbrella hooked over her arm as she finished making a purchase.

“Why don’t you come over my place,” she said. “My dad needs a hand with some stuff.”

She left the store quickly and shut the door behind her.

I followed her out and made my way back to her house. I saw straight away that the family car was absent. This meant that her parents were out but I didn’t understand the significance immediately.

I went around to the back door and shortly after Adele let me in. She had removed her coat and was wearing just a T shirt but had removed her lower clothing; however the length of the garment was such that I couldn’t see her panties – or whether she wore shorts. “Everyone’s out, gone to town. They’ll be a couple of hours yet. Take off your shoes, don’t get the carpet dirty.”

I bent down to untie my shoe laces, which gave me a brief opportunity to study her bare feet and long legs with her T shirt still maintaining her modesty.

She turned and led me across the deep carpet through the bungalow to a bedroom. I recognised the room as the one which I had observed her in previously. She sat on the bed and indicated to me to settle next to her. The bed was covered in a deep, soft quilt with a pattern of roses and smelled of feminine scent.

“I’ll be going away in a couple of days to Uni.” With that she raised the T shirt to her waist and lay back on the quilt showing me a full mop of golden curls, “Stroke me here this time.” I was shocked and disconcerted to realise that she had removed her panties and was showing me her private area.

She took my hand and placed it on her flat belly and slowly moved it down through the downy pubic hair. Her thighs were slightly parted and the lips of her pussy were visible. A pair of crinkly inner labia protruded slightly as my fingers gently parted the locks, with her legs moving further apart as I did so.

“I want to know what it feels like to be touched down there before I go.” She closed her eyes and spread her legs widely, letting me stroke her pubes just like I’d caressed her breasts many times before.

She allowed me to smooth and part the hair gently, with my fingers on her outer labia either side of the precious opening. I was permitted to explore the commencement of the vagina with its tiny clitoris but any movement between the lips was firmly discouraged so I settled down to stroke the flesh between the thighs.

It seemed hours later when she looked at me again. “Julie was right, it is wonderful. She said it was, she’s much more experienced than me.

Adele sat up, “Can I touch you, I want to feel a boy. Take off your jeans.”

In some confusion I undid my jeans and removed them along with my pants. I sat back on the bed, just wearing my T shirt and socks with my cock sticking right out in the air. To me it appeared ridiculous but she studied it seriously.

With a gentle touch she wrapped her fingers around it and held my penis still. “It’s warm, I never really expected that. How stupid. What do I do with it now?”

My cock was twitching fit to burst as she gripped it, so I showed her how to hold it more loosely and move rhythmically over the glans and shaft. It didn’t take long of course, within a few seconds I was spurting uncontrollably across the quilt and her thighs.

When I breathed again and looked at her she was looking puzzled and horrified all at the same time. “That’s disgusting, Julie didn’t say it was like that.” She was inspecting her hand and the semen that was running and dripping from it.

Then she gagged and ran from the room. I could hear a tap running and feeling embarrassed I got dressed again. Soon she returned carrying a roll of toilet paper and wiped the mess from the quilt-cover. “Ugh, I can smell it.”

She scrubbed the wetness with bundles of paper. “I’m sorry, it caught me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting that. You’d better go now.”

Embarrassed, I quickly left her house and within a couple of days afterwards she left the village.

So my summer of exploration came to an end. I had started that year as a fumbling kid and ended it with worthwhile life-skills. The next time I became close to a girl I managed it better, plus she seemed to enjoy how I touched her.

Some years later I heard of Adele and found what had become of her. She had quit university early and returned home, pregnant. She later married a local farmer and bred prize-winning pigs. A couple of years ago she suddenly divorced her husband, left everything behind including her now adult son and moved to Spain.

Julie became a hairdresser in the village but suffered from obesity and back problems. Nowadays several grandchildren and pet dogs are her world.

Myself? I left for a city job, married the bosses daughter and later inherited the firm. I like to think that the skills I learned during that long hot summer have served me well in life.

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