Eastern Idyll

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This is the true account of a magic few months in my early adult years, memories of which have remained with me throughout my life. To prevent her present family identifying the girl in the story I have called her Jenn, which is not her real name, and I have also tweaked the setting a little bit. But apart from that everything that I am relating actually happened, and if she is still alive and ever reads this she will recognise it instantly.

I joined the RAF as a cadet pilot when I was 18, and after being awarded my wings went on to multi-engine training and then spent a couple of years with 115 Squadron as a co-pilot on B-29 Superfortresses – we called them Washingtons in the RAF – operating out of a base in eastern England. At the end of my tour I converted onto jets and just before my 23rd birthday was posted to the Far East to join a squadron flying fighter-bombers in the ground attack role. We only flew in the mornings, so I soon became accustomed to spending the afternoons at the pool on the base, or lying on my bed under the slowly revolving fan if it was particularly hot, and then going out in the cool of the evening to explore my new surroundings.

Our base was on the outskirts of the capital of the country, a mile or so away down the valley and I would walk there through the heavily scented evening, past the little roadside stalls selling portions of delicious local food or Japanese audio-visual gear, each offering the same tinny music from small radios trying, and failing, to blot out the continuous noise of what sounded like crickets in the palm trees. There were the usual bars and restaurants of a mid-sized town and pretty girls walking up and down and all the fascination of a completely different culture to a young man enjoying his very first overseas experience.

It was not long before I heard through the base grapevine that weekly sessions of ballroom dancing were being held at the British Council in town, and the next week I went along to investigate. I had always loved dancing, starting with English, Scottish and Irish Country at school and then going on to the craze of American Square that swept the UK in the early ’50s, but when I started to get interested in girls it occurred to me that ballroom dancing would bring me a lot closer to them than dancing at arms length as I had done up till then. After all, I reasoned, if I walked up to an attractive girl in the street and took her into my arms I was likely to get my face slapped, but if I did the same thing at a dance she would accept it without question. And I rather liked that idea!

Though I say so myself, I became pretty good at it. I would go to public dances in the UK early, before the pubs came out, looking for girls who were good dancers and without a partner, and would then take to the floor with one or the other of them while there was still room to dance ‘properly’. And once and once only, during the three months of my advanced training on jets at Chivenor, in Devon, I met a girl whose dancing style fitted with mine so well that when we were on the floor there was nothing else in our minds but the total perfection of our movements together, the full length of our bodies firmly against each other and our only thoughts the over-whelming delight of being a single entity on the floor as she responded faultlessly to my lead, moving with me as if we were just one person. But in spite of that I had never so far entered into a long term relationship with any girl, as a result of which I suspect that at the age of 23 I was probably the oldest pilot in the RAF who was still a virgin.

The big hall in the Council building was filling up with dancers when I arrived and I was welcomed, introduced all round and soon took to the floor. There were expatriate girls of several nationalities as well as some very attractive Eurasian ones, and when I found that some of them danced quite as well as many I had come across back in the UK I really started to enjoy myself.

After a while I began to pay more attention to one particular young girl who was in such great demand that I had plenty of opportunity to watch her and see that she was one of the better dancers. She was slim with gentle curves, a little above average in height (I later discovered that she was 5’5″ to my 6’0″), with brown eyes and dark hair cut in a short bob, enjoying herself so much that she seemed to have a permanent happy smile on her face. She was wearing a sleeveless dress of some light, floaty material that hung freely from her bare shoulders and ended just above her knees, and her exposed arms and legs were that delightful light biscuity-brown colour that I have always found so much more attractive than a deep tan.

As soon as an opportunity arose I asked her for a dance, and was delighted to find that she was light on her feet and light in my arms. She followed my lead without any difficulty, and when the music stopped I was pleased when she showed no sign of wanting to leave my side and move off the floor. A second dance followed and then another, and by that time I was bursa escort smitten. Her name was Jenn, she was just 18 years old and now that she had finished her schooling back home in Europe she had come out to live with her parents for a while – her father was leading an industrial mission to the country – while she considered what she was going to do with her life.

She danced with me for the remainder of the evening, and every time a slow one came up I held her a little more closely, enjoying the feel of her slender body through her flimsy dress as she moved against me. I slid my right hand lower and lower down her smooth warm back with each successive dance till eventually it was resting where I could just feel the top of her panties along the side of my little finger. I was alert for the slightest indication that I was out of order, but if she had noticed she gave no reaction. I was mentally willing her to bring her arms up around my neck and snuggle in closer, but she continued to rest one hand in mine and the other on my shoulder in the standard dance position and I had to accept that it was still early days for such a public display of affection.

Then it came to the end of the evening and time for us all to leave. I was disappointed when she told me that she had a lift home arranged with a friend of hers, an older woman who had been looking at the two of us all evening and smiling a lot. I tried the old trick of saying that I was new to the area and needed someone to show me around and it worked – we made a date to see a film later in the week and I went back to the base floating on air, in love for the very first time in my life.

I presented myself at her villa on the appointed evening and was on my best behaviour in front of her parents, who permitted me to take their youngest daughter out provided that I brought her back safely and not too late. After the film we walked back through the town and up to the villa hand in hand and I learned more about her. At the start of WWII her father had been in the Dutch East Indies (as they then were) on a long contract so he had his family with him, but when the Japanese army arrived in 1942 the family was split up, the father and two sons going to one detention camp and Jenn, her mother and elder sister to another. They were all subjected for several years to the uncivilised treatment that was normal behaviour for the Japanese invaders and were not reunited as a family till they were freed four years later. It was a part of her life that she was doing her best to forget.

We began seeing a great deal of each other. I would bring Jenn up to the pool at the base, where the sight of her trim body in a sleek one-piece swimsuit greatly improved my kudos with the guys on the squadron, and at other times I would join her and her parents in the afternoons at the country’s main military installation, where members of her father’s staff had been given the freedom of a much larger pool. In the evenings we might wander hand in hand through the soft starlit night, just happy to be together, and at other times would arrange a late pass-out with her parents and then go to one or other of the open air ‘night clubs’ on the outskirts of town, returning in a taxi with prizes from the dance competitions they held there – nothing much, a bottle of something or other or a couple of free entry tickets for our next visit.

Well OK, I have to admit that it took me a while to get a first kiss from her, but after that she threw away her reserve and responded happily to my advances, pressing up against me, wrapping her arms right round my neck and demanding to be kissed. Then I would put my hands either side of her slim waist to pull her closer, and we would kiss and kiss again till we were both breathless. She was pretty and lively, utterly delightful and fun to be with and I was soon totally besotted, and over the moon when she told me that she was in love with me. I had no doubt that I wanted to have this girl for myself for the rest of my life.

Then, one afternoon at the big pool, Jenn’s father told me that he was planning a short holiday. He had heard that civilians were sometimes able to use the RAF’s local Rest and Leave Centre and asked me to find out more about it. Back at base I learned that this was simply a bungalow on a beach a couple of hours drive away. It had accommodation for up to eight holiday-makers and could be used by a civilian party provided that they were accompanied by a member of the RAF.

I discussed this with Jenn’s parents and then booked the beach house for ten days for a party of five, comprising Jenn’s father, his PA Andrea who was a pretty Eurasian girl about my age, her surprisingly ancient father, presumably coming along to chaperon his daughter, and of course Jenn and myself. I did wonder why Jenn’s mother would not be coming but it seemed she had medical problems that counted her out. Although I did wonder to myself whether the presence of Andrea might have had something to do with it. One way or another!

The five of us were driven down bursa escort bayan to the coast in an RAF vehicle and settled in to the beach house, a long narrow bungalow situated towards one end of a wide bay that stretched for five miles between two headlands, and a mile or so away from a small native fishing village. It had bedrooms either side of a central lounge/diner and kitchen, and a resident cook assisted by a house-boy from the village. There were no services as such – lighting was by paraffin lamps, a fresh water trailer was brought down from the base whenever there were guests, and although the toilet facilities were very basic they turned out to be both clean and adequate. Along the front of the house was a paved terrace partially protected from the sun by a palm leaf canopy, and steps led directly on to the wide beach of white sand that shelved gently into the clear sparkling waters of the bay.

We soon settled into a very relaxed routine whereby after breakfast we would all change into our swimming gear for the rest of the day. I had brought my usual yellow trunks but Jenn came out with a new blue and green two-piece swimsuit with a bandeau top, not as brief as bikinis were going to be in years to come but still displaying more of her nubile young body than the one-piece she had left at home. Before long the two of us got into the habit of wandering away hand in hand by ourselves every morning to ‘explore the palm groves’ that backed the beach, spreading up the side of the ridge that ran into the sea to form the nearer of the two headlands.

At least, that’s what we told the others! In fact, on the first full day we had chanced on a small patch of soft sand surrounded by a thicket of low bushes and shaded by a stand of palms, providing us with the first real privacy we had ever had. Every morning we would creep into it for a session of hugging and kissing before wandering back to the water’s edge to paddle and swim our way back to the beach house for lunch.

In the afternoon the two older men would retire for a long siesta while the girls and I played about in the water and on the float, a wooden platform about seven feet long by three wide, curved along the length of the sides and with a flat top capable of holding two or three people. It made a good sea-going base from which to snorkel and could be easily propelled along the water with a double bladed paddle. Then, after the evening meal, we would sit on the terrace with our drinks and watch the sun sink into the water, followed by the very short twilight and then all the stars would come out, brilliant against the black velvet of the sky.

Back in the privacy of our hideaway among the palms with Jenn, it was inevitable that our hugs and kisses would become cuddles and kisses and then caresses and kisses, and after a few days I got my nerve up sufficiently to suggest to her that I would not be offended if she felt like taking her top off when we were alone together. This, of course, was years before the term topless became associated with feminine clothing and so to suggest that she might strip down to just her briefs in my presence was a massive advance in our relationship and I was not at all sure how she would take it. But to my great delight she received the suggestion with a wide smile and a kiss, only making the condition that I was to hold her tight and not look till she got used to her new state of undress.

We were soon both at ease with the situation and thereafter she happily went topless of her own accord whenever we were on our own in the palm grove. We developed a favourite position for talking about things together, me on my back on the soft sand with Jenn lying half across me, one arm curled round my head and a delightfully firm perky breast resting on my chest. With one leg over between mine, her pussy resting motionless against my hipbone and one of my arms reaching underneath her to cup her butt outside her briefs it just felt comfortable and right for our half-naked bodies to be so close together and at the time we had no thought about taking matters any further. OK, I am well aware that it is hard to believe, in this day and age, that any young couple could be so naïve, but that was the way we were then.

Then one afternoon the house-boy told us that there was a coral reef beyond the further headland, the other side of the village, and Jenn and I decided that as soon as the midday temperatures started to drop away we would take the float and see if we could find it. By now we were so tanned that we decided to go just wearing our swimming gear so, after pausing to let the others take pictures, we paddled away along the coast and past the village to where the beach finally petered out against the ridge that formed the far headland. We followed the rocky shore to the point and then round the corner out of sight of the beach house, and after cruising along the coast for a while came across a small stone tower, high on the cliff and looking as if it had been placed there to keep watch along the coast.

Deciding to explore escort bursa we beached the float, climbed up the slope and came to the foot of the tower. A door-shaped opening led out of the sun’s glare into a dark interior, and when our eyes had become accustomed to the gloom we saw that slabs of stone had been built into the wall to provide steps. Up them and through a hole in the ceiling we came out onto the top of the tower, a circular platform some ten feet across, floored with rough stone and encircled by a low wall.

The late afternoon sun was still pleasantly warm as the two of us stood there in silence, Jenn’s arm round my waist and mine across her bare shoulders, drinking in the panorama of land and sea spread out around us, bombarding our senses with its vibrant colours. After a while she broke away and went over to the edge of the platform, putting both hands on the parapet to steady herself as she looked down to the shoreline below, and as I gazed at her gorgeous slim body I realised that I wanted to take things further with this girl and now was the time to do something about it.

I moved across to stand behind her and ran my fingertips slowly up her hot brown back, and when they came to her bandeau top I gently unfastened it and let it fall to the floor. Without a word she straightened up and leaned back against me, her head in the hollow of my shoulder and her hands reaching back to clasp themselves together in the small of my back, arching herself forward and deliberately offering me unrestricted access to the contours of her body that had become so familiar back in the palm grove.

I brought my hands up under her bare breasts and caressed them, running my thumbs back and forth across her nipples as I did so, and she wriggled her bum back against me and made quiet ‘mmmmm’ noises of pleasure deep in her throat. After a while I slid my hands down to her waist and started running my fingers slowly back and forth along the top of her briefs. I was signalling to her that I was planning to take them off and at the same time giving her the opportunity to back off and take the heat out of the situation if she wanted.

But Jenn didn’t want! She turned round inside the circle of my arms, stretched up on tiptoe to wrap her own arms right round my neck and plastered her lips against mine. Not the soft, gentle butterfly kisses that I had grown to love over the last few weeks but a full on, passionate kiss that told me without the slightest possibility of misunderstanding that she was mine for the taking.

I ran my hands down under her briefs to cup the cheeks of her butt – the first time I had ever ventured to do that – and gave a small tentative sideways movement of my hips, which were hard up against hers. Tentative because this was the first time I had ever been openly sexual with her. Tentative because I had no doubt that she was fully aware of my arousal through the thin material of our briefs, and tentative because I did not intend to go any further without some kind of signal from her that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. She responded immediately, pushing up against me, grinding her pussy hard from side to side against my cock and timing the thrusts of her tongue into my mouth in concert with the movements of her hips, letting me know without saying a word that she was ready to surrender herself completely to me whenever I wanted.

It was not long before her swimsuit bottoms joined her bandeau top on the floor, closely followed by mine. I laid down on my back, took her hand and guided her down to kneel astride my hips and then pulled her forward to lie full length on top of me. Her legs were parted either side of mine, breasts flattened against my chest and both arms curled around my head, holding it in place as she captured my mouth with more kisses, making it plain that she was enjoying the way my hands were running wild all over her gorgeous warm naked body.

I tried to hold her still for a moment so that I could get a snapshot in my mind of this very special moment, but she grinned and wriggled down on me (she had ‘wanted more action’, she said to me later) so I never did get that snapshot. She started to reach in between us with one hand to grab my cock and position it to enter her, but I wouldn’t let her do it – I wanted to feel her writhing down on me as the two of us searched with our bodies for the place we both wanted to be, and then we found it. I brought my hands up to the swell of her hips and pushed her downwards and humped myself up, and as I did so my cock slid in between the slippery lips of her labia and full-length up inside her, and that was when we both went still for a moment, amazed and not a little apprehensive at the strange but very enjoyable feelings that were flooding our senses.

And then we were moving slowly against each other, Jenn sending me into ecstasy as she repeatedly tensed and relaxed her vaginal muscles around my cock. I gripped her bum again, pulling her up and down against me and enjoying the increasingly passionate kisses and incoherent murmurs that were telling me just how much she was loving what I was doing to her. We were not fucking, we were making love, and already we were aware that this meant taking our time and giving each other the maximum pleasure along the way.

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