Chapter 2: Morning Cleanup

With just me the two of them (their daughters had left yesterday on some teen adventure camp thing), I’d gone to bed the night before wearing nothing more than a long white cotton nightshirt which came down to my knees when I was standing but it was so light that it had a tendency to ride up when I slept. I’m also a notorious bedcover kicker, usually waking up most mornings with all the covers at the end of my bed or pushed over the side. Apparently this morning was no different...

“Wake up slut ... sheesh, cover yourself up for goodness sakes!” a voice came out of the fog of my sleepy head. “C’mon ... hurry up before he gets up and sees you like this! Oh for heaven’s sake, I KNEW something like this would happen.”

I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on the source of the annoying voice. For a moment I was completely disoriented, trying to figure out why my bedroom seemed so weird. Then I remembered where I was - in a damn RV in the middle of nowhere in California! The annoying voice belonged to none other than Mrs. Kelly Eisenberg, bitch extraordinaire, who was shaking me on the shoulder even harder now.

To be honest, it wasn’t too hard to figure out what she was griping about. Sure enough, during the night I’d kicked the bedcovers until they were bunched up at my feet and my nightshirt had ridden up over my bare hips. Laying on my side facing the wall, my naked ass was totally exposed to anyone who might be wandering around the RV, which happened to be Mr. Eisenberg’s wife Kelly at the time. (Yes, her name is Kelly - what a pain it’s been already, believe me).

I suppose in the spirit of cooperation I should’ve pulled it down right away and avoided the inevitable conflict but she was pissing me off, threatening me and insulting me at every opportunity so I just couldn’t pass up an opportunity to taunt her a bit.

“What’s the matter, see something you like Kelly?” I said in a deliberately seductive tone, deliberately wiggling my butt at her.

It was all I could do to not break out laughing as she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the mere suggestion of any lesbian interests on her part.

“Oh for god’ sake, you are SO disgusting,” she sneered at me, “But then again it doesn’t surprise me that a bitch like you would say something like that.”

I suppose “a bitch like you” was her way of calling me a slut - and not in the complimentary manner I like to refer to myself when I call myself one. Instead, she used it as a means to put me down, as if she was somehow better than me. It was OK though, better women than her had called me far worse. Satisfied now that I’d gotten the reaction I was hoping for, I stood up and pulled the shirt down over my hips and let it fall to my knees on its own accord.

As I stood there, stretching and trying to get motivated to move, my boobs were pushing out and my nipples were clearly visible through the thin almost transparent cotton. I’m sure she wasn’t thrilled by that but then she couldn’t say anything as her boobs were doing the same through her T-shirt as well. I couldn’t help but look at them, like a moth drawn to a flame. OK, my breasts aren’t all that bad, a nice 34C and I’m quite happy with them after years of teenage angst, but hers were incredible, most likely a 36D or DD. I’d gotten a glimpse of them the night before as she changed and they were clearly fake, but who would say anything when they looked as magnificent as hers did? They weren’t SO big as to look clownish but rather right on the borderline where without closer examination, with clothes on it was debatable whether they were real or not. Hats off to her plastic surgeon!

“And just what are you staring at?” she suddenly hissed at me like a snake striking and I realized in my morning stupor I was indeed staring at her great boobs.

She twirled around and went straight back to the other end of the RV, pulling the curtain across so I couldn’t see what was going on. Looking at the clock, I saw it was only 7:00AM - damn, why did she have to wake me up so early? The first session wasn’t until 10:00 so we didn’t plan to leave until after nine. Heck, I could have easily slept at least another hour or more.

Now that I was awake the body functions began to kick into gear and I had to pee pretty bad, not to mention I needed a shower desperately. The RV restroom was at their end so I decided just to use the one down the road. At this ridiculously early hour, I doubted that many people would be up anyway. Gathering my towel and bag, I slipped on some flip-flops and stepped out into the blazing sunshine. Wow, it was going to be hot today!

It was only about a hundred feet or so to the bath house but that meant passing five RV sites. Amazingly, people were up and about! Some even had fires going or were already drinking cups of coffee while sitting out on their lawn chairs. I suddenly felt a little conspicuous as all I was wearing was the nightshirt and in the bright sunlight it didn’t exactly hide much underneath. It also didn’t help that just about every guy stared at me as I passed by - well, make that EVERY guy. My hair was a wreck, I had no makeup on, and I needed to go to the bathroom BADLY - not exactly a recipe for feeling sexy or flirting. Normally I might have slowed down and give them a better view, maybe even stop to chat a little, but at the moment I wanted just one thing - to find an empty toilet!

Making my way quickly to the bathhouse, I was surprised once again to find it full of people! God, what kind of insane people were these to get up at such early hours? Weren’t they supposed to be on vacation? It was quite a collection, mostly mothers with their daughters, brushing their teeth, showering, and generally doing all the things women do to get ready in the morning. Someone said hello to me as I stepped in but I made a bee-line to the first empty stall. I didn’t mean to be rude but there ARE priorities in life!

(Sorry, no details about my potty life, a girl has to have SOME secrets. Just say I felt a hell of lot better a few moments later!)

Feeling considerably less stressed, I stepped back out into the crowded room and looked for an empty shower stall. At least they didn’t have a communal shower. Nightmarish images of high school Phys-ed flashed through my mind. When you’re one of the last girls to get your boobs and figure, PE can be a living hell! Closing the curtain, I slipped off the nightshirt and prayed for hot water. For a few moments I thought nobody up there was listening but soon the warm water emerged and I stepped underneath, feeling better almost immediately. I washed myself down, shaved my pussy and underarms (I tend to break out and get skin irritation if I don’t do them daily), and then just stood under the stream of water, closing my eyes and purging myself of all the tension and anxiety that Mrs. Eisenberg had already somehow managed to fill me with already this morning.