The boys of Bogg Lane Academy milled around the bus that was to take them to their summer camp. Their faces showed signs of unease. Rumours had reached them that Mr Tomkinson the master who was to be in charge of the camp had become suddenly indisposed. He had had to undergo a test called a CRB and he had failed! If he couldn't come what would become of camp? They would miss out on all the fun. And they always had lots of fun with Mr Tomkinson.
Clothes and equipment were neatly packed in rucksacks; tents were neatly stowed away; cooking pots and primus stoves were prepared, but without a teacher to take charge they were going nowhere.
Their glum faces said it all. Then suddenly a figure appeared from out the bus, "Okay, I'm in charge of you for this trip!"
The boys looked up and their jaws dropped open. Their teacher in charge was a girl!
But it was nothing compared to how far Tracey's jaw fell. She had just been appointed supernumerary teacher to Bogg Lane when she had been asked if she would take charge of the summer camp. Mr Pettigrew a go-ahead Headmaster of the modern school had given her a book of instructions. But why did Tracey need instructions? As a former girl scout Tracey prided herself on her camping abilities. After a quick glance, the book was left behind on Tracey’s kitchen table. Tracey had put on her girl scout uniform. She was ready for anything.
The only thing was - she hadn't realised it was going to be boys’ camp not girls.
Too late to worry now, thought Tracey looking down at the group of smiling faces from the steps of the bus. Her first thought was -they look a decent bunch of lads. Her second thought was - I wish I'd worn shorts instead of this short skirt. You might think a short skirt an unusual choice for a summer camp, but Tracey had become convinced that her bum looked big in shorts. In this belief she was quite correct, what she hadn't realised though was that her bum looked big in everything. Her third thought was - I wish I'd worn a sexier pair of knickers. She banished this thought from her mind. Why should she wear sexy knickers just because she was leading a troop of boys.
The boys' mouths were drooling. A girl in uniform always does something for teenage boys. But a girl like Tracey in a uniform like Tracey's. Well! That did something very special.
Their first thought was - gosh her bum looks big in that skirt. Their second thought was - nice pair of tits. Their third thought is not printable in a nice family forum like this.
The boys piled on to the bus. Tracey sat at front pondering what on earth she was to do with a dozen teenage boys.
The boys started singing, as boys will, to the tune of 'She'll be coming round the mountain'.
She's got a lovely pair... of spectacles
She's got a lovely pair... of spectacles
She's got a lovely pair...
She's got a lovely pair..
And so on. It was only when they got to:
She's got a great big bottom... set of teeth
That she decided that it hadn't been worth putting the skirt on after all.
The camp site was in a clearing in one of those big coniferous forests that sprawl over the uplands of northern England. It had a central shower and toilet block with a water supply, but that was all. Otherwise there was just a clearing to pitch their tents. One big tent for the boys. One little tent for Tracey.
The boys pitched the tents and they sat round the camp fire singing songs. Tracey was relieved that no reference appeared to be made in the songs to girls with oversized bottoms.
"Right," said Tracey, "showers and then turn in for the night."
She sat by the camp fire as the boys retired to their tent. Five minutes later they appeared and Tracey got the shock of her life.
Rupert Chambers, head boy at Bogg Lane, had been plotting ever since he had found they were being led by a girl with big tits and red knickers. Well, girls shouldn't wear short skirts if they don't want boys like Rupert to know the colour of their knickers, should they!
Rupert had had several peeks up Tracey's skirt as she bent over to hammer in the tent pegs. Well, she shouldn't have worn a short skirt if she was going to bend over, should she!
Rupert wasn't really the outdoor type, but a young innocent like Tracey! Well she was going to provide him with endless amusement, wasn't she!
The boys stood in the tent shivering. They didn't want to do it. But Rupert had given the order and if Rupert gave an order, you obeyed it!
The boys crept out the tent and started to make their way over to the shower block.
Tracey didn't know where to look. At least she did know where to look. There is only one place to look at a boy when he's stark naked. Poor Tracey had never seen so many willies in one place at a time before. Tracey always called a penis a 'willy' it seemed appropriated somehow.
"Boys!" shouted Tracey, trying unsuccessfully not to look at the willies, "what are you doing. I can see your willies. At least wrap a towel round."
She blushed scarlet. Why had she mentioned willies!
"But Mr Tomkinson insisted we walk to the showers naked," expostulated Rupert, who was still normally dressed, "he said it was in the Health and Safety rule book. Mr Pettigrew did give you the rule book didn't he? You do know the rule book don't you Miss Tracey?""
Tracey hadn't really read the rule book. She tried to remember what it said, but couldn't. But Mr Tomkinson wouldn't have said it if it hadn't been the case.
"Yes of course," she stammered, "how stupid of me. Go ahead. It's important to do everything by the rule book. For health and safety. Er... Rupert..."
"Yes Miss Tracey."
"I don't quite know how to say this, but doesn't the rule book say you should be naked as well."
"Doctor's note," said Rupert, as if that explained everything, and twelve naked boys and a fully clothed Rupert trooped in front of her to the shower block.
Rupert looked back.
"Aren't you joining us Miss Tracey?"
"What!"
"Mr Tomkinson always joined us. For supervision. It's in the health and safety rule book."
"Yes of course it is," said Tracey, "but er Rupert... Just remind me. It doesn't say I have to shower with you, does it?"
Tracey felt her face going red. Why hadn't she read the rule book! Surely it didn't say that.
"Well Mr Tomkinson always did. As I said - health and safety rules. Can't break those. The lads can't shower if you're not there. And they're all hot and sweaty after pitching the tents."
'But... I mean..."
Rupert was enjoying himself. Tracey had turned the colour of a beetroot. He did so enjoy teasing her. She was so gullible. He had backed her into a corner and she couldn't think of a way out. Still, he could give her a little more rope.
"Oh, I see," he said, "don't worry Miss. Tracey, there's a separate private shower for the supervisor."
The relief on Tracey's face was palpable.
"Well in that case... Of course..."
"That's settled then. See you there in a couple of minutes. Don't forget your towel."
Rupert grinned at the sight of Tracey's bottom as the she bent over to go into her tent. He had worked her beautifully. She was committed. And those certainly were a fine pair of knickers.
Tracey, wearing a towelling robe over her underwear, knocked hesitatingly on the door of the shower room. She was nervous; her heart was beating a little faster than normal. She knew that this was partly because there were a lot of bare willies inside. Could she manage not to sneak a peek.
Rupert opened the door.
"Come in Miss," he said, and Tracey crept in. She gasped. She had been expecting separate shower cubicles, but this was a simple camp site. There was just a row of shower heads on the wall. Under the streaming water Rupert had lined up the best specimens of willy-hood for Tracey's delectation.
They hadn't wanted to do it - not display their willies to Tracey, but Rupert had ways of persuading people.
Tracey looked at all the willies. She felt her face go bright red again.
"That's your shower there Miss," said Rupert, "I see you've brought your towel."
Tracey looked across to where a single private shower cubicle stood in the corner with a curtain across the front.
Tracey looked at it and gulped.
"Where do I get changed?" she asked nervously.
Rupert smiled. He'd softened her up nicely. Now to turn the screw.
"Over there Miss. You can hang your robe on that peg."
He watched with satisfaction as Tracey's face flushed again. Poor Tracey. She had presumed a private shower meant a private changing area. She wondered if she should just run. But then it would look as if she'd just come in to ogle the willies.
Rupert enjoyed watching her squirm. It was all part of the fun. She was trapped in her corner. There was only one way out.
"Of course," she said, trying to sound nonchalant and kicking off her shoes.
Rupert looked unconcerned. She'd committed herself. He'd won, as he always knew he would.
Poor Tracey. She'd taken her shoes off. She'd have to go through with it now, but she didn't know what to do next. Blushing furiously she untied her robe and let it fall to the ground. She stood there in nothing but her bra and panties nervously wondering what to do next. She looked round. She didn't want to look at the cocks, but somehow they drew her eyes like a magnet. Oh Fuck! Tracey didn't normally use such words even silently. But it was the only appropriate one. Several were showing a distinct reaction. Not a complete reaction, but sufficient to cause a significant increase in dimension.
She blushed redder than ever. She was getting an uncontrollable reaction herself. Her nipples had gone like rocks and there was a sudden surge of wetness between her legs. Fuck! Fuck! And Double Fuck. She knew a dark stain would soon become obvious on her panties. There was only one way to prevent it. Quick as she could, she dropped her knickers, unhooked her bra and made a dash for the shower. And twelve bare willies grew even bigger at the sight of Tracey's ample behind wobbling as she made a dash for it.
She yanked the curtain across and stood breathing heavily. She was getting overheated in more ways than one. She turned on the water and stepped under it. She nearly shrieked. It was freezing cold. She suddenly realised - it was a primitive camp site. Why had she expected hot water. She stepped back under again. The freezing water hitting her bare skin was extraordinarily arousing. Her hand sought out her pleasure spot. It was so sexy showering naked with all those boys just the other side of the curtain - and they couldn't see her. Or so she thought.
Rupert was pleased with the income generated. The spy hole into the private shower had been carefully sited to give a perfect view of the occupant while keeping the occupant blissfully unaware of its presence. He was charging five pounds a minute. And what red blooded teenage lad wouldn't fork out five pounds to see a nubile young lady 'enjoying herself' in the shower.
It was only while Tracey was happily soaping herself in that part of her anatomy that gave both her and the lad who had just handed over his five pounds the most pleasure, when a horrible thought struck her. She’d run into the shower stark naked, she was going to have to come out of it stark naked.
Funnily enough the same thought had occurred to Rupert. There was more fun to be had from Miss Tracey yet. He had ways to make her really squirm!
Tracey trapped naked in the shower debated with herself what to do next. Everything seemed to have gone quiet outside.
"Rupert," she called out hesitatingly. There was no answer.
"Rupert?"
She stuck her head round the curtain. The changing room was empty. Relief flooded over her. She could sneak out and get her things.
She drew back the curtain and tiptoed across the floor. She didn't quite know why she was on tip toes. There was nobody about. Now which peg had she put her things on. She looked around. There was no sign of them. Oh my God! The little horrors had pinched them. Then with a flood of relief she spotted a splash of red under one of the benches. Her bra and knickers must have fallen on the ground and been kicked under the seat. Of her robe there was no sign. She could look for that later, first of all she had to retrieve her panties. She got down on her hands and knees and stuck her head under the bench, bottom high in the air.
Rupert Chambers sat unnoticed on the bench opposite admiring the view. She certainly had a very fine bottom and he had a splendid view of it. Her pussy lips gaped slightly and her rear orifice was nice and neat and tight.
"Excuse me Miss. Can I help."
He could have enjoyed the view for longer, but the temptation to cause Tracey maximum embarrassment was overwhelming. After all he knew that with girls like Tracey their was a strong connection between embarrassment and sexual arousal.
He toyed with the end of his prodigious cock. For the first time he was now completely naked and his eight inch weapon was prepared for action. He had a choice of holes in which to deploy it, and to make sure that Tracey gained maximum pleasure from the experience it was important that she was fully aroused - whatever choice he made. It was a difficult choice. He picked up a pound coin that was on the bench beside him and flipped it in the air.
"Rupert!" Tracey buried her face in her hands. What a view she must be presenting him with! She felt her face burn with shame, but at the same time, the more embarrassed she felt, the more her cunt burned with excitement. She felt herself go wet in anticipation.
"Rupert!"
Still on all fours, bottom in the air, head in her hands, she felt a warm body next to hers.
"Rupert! No!" she felt a warm cock nuzzle between her vaginal lips, separating them as it penetrated slightly.
"Rupert! Yes!" she felt a cock of prodigious proportions slide between those private lips, into, and right up her cunt. Her cunt needed it. Her cunt had to have it!
For Tracey at any rate Rupert had made the right choice. She was lucky the coin had come down heads.
Tracey had never had a fuck like it. Somehow the excitement of the willy show, followed by the embarrassment of her nude display had aroused her to a fever pitch.
In... Out... In... Out
Tracey's cunt was taking a real beating.
"Yes, yes.... YES!"
Tracey bucked and contracted in orgasm after orgasm of the sort that only results from a big cock pleasuring a well primed cunt.
At last she lay drenched in perspiration. Collapsed in a heap on the floor. Her cunt was sore with the pounding it had received, but somehow that didn't matter.
What did matter was that strange noise she could hear. It sounded dreadfully like a round of applause. She put her hands over her eyes. She didn't dare look.