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I left Latvia with a few hundred US dollars in my pocket, to hitchhike around Europe. I was nearly twenty, and I thought it should be now or never. Annecy and its lake, in France are special, surrounded gloriously by mountains with views that meander for miles and down town canals.
Wrought iron bridges span the canals, romantic bridges tastefully designed, one the 'Bridge of Love,' on which I walked, a long-legged teenager for just a month or two more, in short burgundy skirt, who smiled a lot. I was smiling there at the edge of the bridge; it was warm, I was free, and I felt good. I stepped up the few steps to cross over the canal. We were strangers right up to that step, though I had, in truth, noticed you almost immediately on the opposite side of the bridge to me, first for your muscled arms, and laidback style, then because of the admiration in your eyes.
You walked over the bridge at almost exactly the same time, from the opposite side, coming towards me, and I moved slightly aside so you would be able to pass by easily. When you glanced the curves in your lips entranced me. It was late spring and your eyes were all the more green among the budding leaves. You held your glance, and your scent held me, lingering, like a coffee does, or a citrus summer, and I had walked by, feeling graceful and erotic in your glance.
So in that step you took to glide past me I saw your desire as we crossed paths, a meeting sealed with a smile on your lips. To my regret, we each kept going. You to I don't know where, and me to a wine shop to find sweet white wine.
In one of those young summer holiday defining moments I met you again at the camp site.
'We've met!' I told you, outside your large blue family tent, attached to the trailer like a blimp, my shoulder bag heavy with bottle of wine, cheese, jar of pickled onions and bread. You smiled in the shade.
'Yes,' you replied, 'though not really a meeting.'
'Is this a meeting, then?' I asked, with bravado.
'Is it?' you grinned.
'Well, not formally I suppose.'
'Not formally is probably better,' you said. Another grin, and deep chuckle.
'Well, maybe we will meet again' I said to you, my bag's straps starting to bite into my shoulder.
'Maybe is pretty good,' you said, glancing at my behind, I noticed, as I continued on my way to my tent.
Later, as the evening dusk descended I rolled out of my small tent, slipped on my flip flops and wandered through the camp site, heading vaguely towards the lake, and a group of tall trees to my left, near the lake and in front of a pier and an outside shower. The shower was, I saw, hidden by a wooden barrier, and was used to wash the lake water off. I felt a little disappointed, and lonely, both feelings caused by you, I knew, and I also knew I could not go towards your caravan again. So I walked to the trees and lake, and saw the shower gush on behind the wooden barrier.
As I got closer, walking by the lake in the grass alongside a small wall, the shower was running, and my heart leapt a little. It was you. I walked slowly forward, then I stood among the trees, unseen, and watched as you pulled your black spandex-like swimsuit shorts outwards a bit so the shower sprayed directly onto your hidden cock. You picked up a shampoo bottle from your bag nearby, and squirted it inside your swimsuit, put the bottle down, and then again opened the front of the swimsuit so the water would spray into it, only this time when you pulled it outwards you pulled it downwards a touch, and I suddenly and clearly saw your tight curled dark pubes, then the beginning of a thick, wet shaft. I gasped, in delight, and felt a squirt of my own, warm, and wet, tingling between my legs. I was mesmerised, and stood there, my eyes glued to that thick bulge in your swimsuit, as the soapy water poured out down your legs.
You must have heard me, or felt my presence, because you looked up, and saw me, some ten metres away, and smiled. I made a decision, there and then, and did not move my eyes, staring straight at the front of your tight black swimsuit shorts. You turned the water off, looking at me, and I saw it, your cock swell a bit, in your wet swimsuit. You watched me staring at your thick cock in your swimsuit for an erotic minute, then you walked up from the shower to the small area of trees. 'Your turn for the shower,' you said, grinning.
I stood in my long green cotton skirt and faded blue sleeveless shirt I had changed into, and giggled: 'I am just strolling around,' I said.
'Ah,' you said, 'well, you look very pretty strolling around like that.'
I looked at you, but I saw you glancing downwards at my toes, painted cherry red.
'I painted them this morning, do you like them?' I said, and wiggled my left foot in the grass.
I saw you blush a deep red in the evening twilight.
'Yes,' you said quietly, your voice husky, and I felt a second gush of wetness between my legs.
'I don't mind you looking,' I answered, from somewhere in my reckles mind, and watched the delicious bulge in your swimsuit grow thicker, and longer, towards your thigh, and I kept my eyes on that glorious sight, while you looked blatantly at my toes.
'You have sexy toes,' you sighed, then, 'I should go, food will be waiting, I hope we meet again.'
I said nothing, slightly disappointed again, but also feeling a wet warmth between my legs, and went to my small tent, where I put on thick socks and lay back, remembering to zip up my tent door, and bunched my cotton skirt around my waist, plunging my hand into my panties. 'Ohhh,' I said, feeling my wet pussy, downwards though my trimmed pubic hair, between my lips, finding my small clitoris, and playing with it, as I moaned, thinking of the beginning of the thick shaft I saw, how your cock had grown in your black swimsuit as you stared at my red polished toes, and your husky, turned on voice.
There was a slight tap on the tent. I stopped suddenly
'Are you in there?' I heard you ask.
Horrified, I pulled my skirt down quickly, unzipped my tent door and peeked out.
'I bought you some food, we have too much,' you said.
'Oh, thank you,' I said.
You looked at me, 'You looked flushed,' you said, 'Are you alright?'
'I must have been sleeping.' I replied, 'sleeping bag's a bit warm.'
You looked down. 'I heard you,' you murmured, 'you sounded gorgeous. What were you thinking about?'
I felt myself go crimson. and glanced at the shorts you were now wearing. You saw me look and stood up straight, to give me a better view of your big, semi erect bulge stretching out sideways, not fully hard yet.
'Tell me,' you whispered.
'Your cock,' I said quietly, 'and the way you looked at my toes in desire.'
'Yes,' you breathed in a sigh.
'You seem very well hung,' I said.
'Oh,' you said, 'you made me wet saying that.'