Chapter 12: Letters

The camp still got mail. Mail arrived and he picked up a letter for himself. Mum and Dad were missing him, all the usual stuff: got the decorators in the kitchen, apple trees are laden, Cousin Jenny is pregnant, the dog has fleas, Dad is thinking of buying a new car, what do you think (like Dad would take a blind bit of notice of what he thought), and ... No! Wait! Jenny is pregnant? She’s sixteen! Younger than the camp friends here! Clive’s blood started to boil; he wanted to fly back and force the evil little cock-sucking, mother-fucker to marry his cousin. He liked Jenny. She and he had spent several happy summer weeks staying with each other. Until she was eleven they had even shared a bedroom. It was like ooooo so daring by the end. And never, not once, had he snuck a peek at her growing body.

Now some arse-wipe, muff-diving, sneeky, bastard cunt-faced ... he was annoyed. After half an hour, he realised there was a lesson – oh yes, if there is a deity then he (or she) has a sense of humour. Here he was, surrounded by teenies who would, well some of them, let him impregnate their perfect little bodies with his salty, spunk; and he was tempted; and he was furious that some greasy, spotty, layabout had done the same thing with his cousin. It was a reminder, if one was needed (two fifteen year olds walked past with less clothing than he knew was possible. “JEMMA AND MARY! Tee-shirts, now! You’ll burn” shouted Jo-Lene, still seeing everything), that one silly action could ruin his life, and more importantly, theirs.

Clive wrote a letter back to M&D, and another one to Jenny, offering congratulations in as diplomatic language as he could manage. He said he’d come and see her when he got back. Then Clive went back out to the archery. The weather was hotter “Than a dingo’s donger.” he said to Harry in a mock Australian accent.

“What is that? And why South African?” she replied.

“I don’t know, to both questions.”

There weren’t many doing archery. It was too hot. Girls were toasting themselves all over the place. Girls were asking him to put sun cream on them too. They pretended they meant their backs, it was clear they wanted him to rub their legs and stomachs and anything else they could get away with. He turned them all down. Jo-Lene told him later she was very impressed with that. ‘See? She saw everything!’ He thought

Actually he was very impressed with himself too. There was one particularly luscious fourteen year old with a body already to die for; and it would get better, he could tell. She was lying at the water’s edge on her front, reading a book. She saw him coming, and he saw her adjust her bikini bra ties. Which is to say, she untied it. She looked up. “Could you put some sun cream on my back? I think I’ll burn soon.”

“I’m sure you will, my little hot potato. You’ll be a baked potato soon.”

“I’ll be a roast potato if you put some cream on my back, and...” She lift herself off the ground at the front, arching her back backwards. Her bra stayed on the ground.

“Tiffany, it is Tiffany isn’t it?”

She nodded “Tiffany-May.”

Looks like Tiffany definitely would, he thought, no ‘may’ about it. Clive didn’t say that, he felt sure she’d heard that a hundred times. “Well, Tiffany. You have a divine body, your tits, which you are showing me accidentally on purpose, are perfect and surprisingly well formed for a fourteen year old. I bet your bottom is just as much a ten a well. NO! I don’t mean I want to check it.

That is, I would love to. But I would be dishonourably discharged from the guild of camp friends. And you are way below the age of consent for what I’d love to do. And you are really too young anyway. Take your time, young lady. No, no, maybe not young lady.” I smiled at her. She looked momentarily disappointed and then slid down again, docking her breasts into the two cups on the ground waiting for them.