This One Time, at Guide Camp...

One of the ‘camps’ was, in fact, a church hall. It was held in the Autumn half term and no-one thought it a good idea to have 38 girls under canvas in a field somewhere. 

The other one was in the Summer holiday and was under canvas in a field. Fewer of us went on that one - only about 20 of us, but we had four berth tents plus two more for the leaders. It was certainly primitive, but hilarious fun too. Bedding us down in the evening was always a protracted affair and many torchlit story times happened in the tents with us all doing our best to tell the scariest story - or the sexiest. 

Which only left us in our sleeping bags. The bags themselves were our own, but little cot beds were provided that gave some level of comfort and kept us off the bare earth under the tent groundsheet. After a couple of rounds of dirty stories, you can imagine how some of us were feeling. 

Still, this was a Catholic guide troop. Some of us were saving ourselves for Jesus, and avoided every occasion of sin, but then there were girls like me who, in the final words of Gone with the Wind “…didn’t give a damn.” What was interesting was to discover which of the goody-two-shoes girls yielded to temptation and rubbed one (or two or three) out in their sleeping bags before drifting off to a warm, self-satisfied sleep. 

Yes, I’d love to tell you of whole-tent orgies where we all piled on top of one another and it was a sexual free for all, but we were checked up on during the night, with the leaders creeping around the tents listening for homesick girls sobbing quietly…or other such similar unpleasantness. 

As you can imagine, I held no inhibitions about getting myself off. 

Thinking back, I am proud to report how varied my techniques were. Thigh-squeezing in a sleeping bag is very sexy. The bag is restrictive and it feels a little like being tied up. Full-on fingering was some way off at that point, but ‘flicking the bean’ was always fun tooo, the only difficulty with it being over-exuberance. Get too carried away and a) the flimsy little cot would start squeaking and b) everyone would know what you were doing. (Not that I minded an audience.) 

And speaking of audiences, the moon would shine brightly, and illuminate the canvas, shedding just enough light inside to see out; Ines of people, and their eyes, should they be open.

One night, after a few rounds of dirty stories, some obviously invented, but others with  the distinct ring of reality about them, (some girls would talk breathlessly of having “…seen a boy wank”, when it was obvious they’d caught their brother) I was feeling the need, so after lights out, my hand travelled into my panties. 

I was already in a state of arousal, and I had pulled the t shirt I slept in up around my neck so I could feel the material of the sleeping bag against my boobs…and anyway, it felt daring…and was flicking my bean nicely, my eyes tightly shut. Now and then, I'd open them and scan the tent to make sure I was ‘alone’, but then, one time, I opened them and saw the moonlight glinting in Sara’s eyes. She was looking at me, and obviously knew what I was doing to myself. 

I immediately stopped. We locked eyes for a few seconds before her lips moved , and she soundlessly mouthed “Go on!” Emboldened by this, I unzipped my bag a little and opened it enough to actually show my boobs. This made me dry-mouthed with excitement. But more was to come. Sara had obviously unzipped her bag almost to her feet. Her knees came up and the bag was tented by them. I strained to make out shapes and detail, and as my eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, I could see the moonlight glinting off the rings she wore on her right hand which was working between her legs. 

We looked at each other and wanked. Sara came just before I did, straightening her legs out and sighing. I bit my bottom lip and felt myself cum into my panties, and not for the first time, revelled in what a joyous feeling it is to do exactly that. 

‘Cumming in your panties’. What fun for a girl, what a mess for a boy. Of course, nowadays, cumming in my panties is a mess for me too, and to some extent it was then too because I would leak for hours afterwards, waking up with a very wet crotch.

The days were rammed with activities, and the showers provided were nipple-achingly cold, but we had a laugh.