Brian decides to drive to Scotland to see the White tailed Eagles. He picks up a pretty hitch-hiker before he's an hour down the road.
This is a three part series. All characters are over 18 years of age.
The problem with Television programs these days is that... they are mostly total rubbish. Soaps, reality or competitions of one sort of another. Even nature programs have a 'message'. If I watch anything it is sport, mostly but not football, ever (that's soccer if you live on the other side of the pond). Sports programs tend to carry a lot of advertising and that's when I channel hop, or make a cup of tea. It was on one such channel hopping sessions that I came across a little item on the White Tailed Eagle.
I'm not a twitcher. I don't rush all over the country to try and see a rare, off course, migrant but I do enjoy birds, feathered and unfeathered. In fact I enjoy pretty much anything to do with nature or history, the older the better. That's history not birds, you understand?
It seems that the White Tailed eagle was re-introduced to Scotland back in the 90's and had done well. They had a plan to re-introduce it to the Isle of Wight in Southern England the following year, 2019. I'd not seen a White Tailed eagle, in the wild before.
Of course I could have waited a year or two then taken a trip to the Isle of Wight, maybe a little over two hours from home, spot the birds and still back home for tea. Like I said, I'm not a twitcher but I am retired and filling time with enjoyable activities is what retirement is all about. Google took less than 10 seconds to tell me that White Tailed eagles were resident in North West Scotland (all year round). That was it then, sorted!
The following morning I organised everything I would need. That afternoon I prepared and provisioned the van and loaded it up ready for a reasonably early start the following morning. I say reasonably because I didn't want to hit the motorways during the rush hour. I lived about an hour twenty from the nearest motorway so planned on leaving about 8 to 8:30 'ish.
Up with the lark and the rain was hammering down on the glass of the conservatory roof. I could barely hear myself think much less hear the 'snap, crackle and pop' of my breakfast cereal. Should have checked the weather forecast I muttered to myself as I put my wellington boots next to the 'things forgotten' bag by the front door.
The app said things would brighten up around 9 so I made another cup of tea and double checked that nothing else needed to go in the bag. By 9:10 things had indeed brightened up so I made a dash for the van and got on my way. By 9:30 I was approaching the main road with my windscreen wipers clicking back and forth on slow. Traffic wasn't too bad and we were making 40mph on a 50mph road. At the crest of the big hill behind Brighton I looked ahead into the valley where there was always a bit of a bottleneck. Sure enough the vehicles in the nearside lane were, essentially, stationary. As my eyes travelled back up the line of cars ahead I spotted a figure standing at the beginning of a layby. Hitch-hiker? Hadn't seen one of them in donkey's years. Needless to say nobody was stopping and 'it', the hitch-hiker was getting soaked with spray from the passing wheels.
My mind went back to the days of my youth. Bin there, done that. Instant decision, if 'it' looks respectable then I'd offer a lift. If 'it' didn't I'd be turning off just up the road/or not and offer a lift that far. If all looked good? I'd play it by ear. Flicking the indicator on I slowed then pulled into the layby tooting my horn encouragingly as I eased passed the 'it' and pulled to a stop. The rear view camera showed 'it' hauling the big rucksack onto it's back and striding purposely towards the vehicle.
As I'd passed I noticed that both the waterproofs and the rucksack had the same logo that my bad weather equipment had. So, at least whoever it was it was probably outdoorsy and had the sense and the wherewithal to buy decent equipment. I pressed the button and lowered the nearside window just as a pretty, elfin face appeared above the window's sill. She smiled delightedly.
"Thanks for stopping," she laughed happily.
"Where you headed?" I grinned back.
I decided that I was definitely going that way.
"Anywhere?"
"Scotland?"
"Scotland? Really?" she responded delightedly.
I pressed the door lock, unlocking the habitation and passenger doors. A second button lowered the electric step.
"Put you gear inside. Could get in and get out of the wet gear if you like?"
She opened the door, took the rucksack off her back and climbed in, closing the door behind her.
"There's hooks in the shower room and a towel. Put your boots in the shower tray, if you're comfortable with that?"
She looked around.
"This one?" she asked looking at the long door.
"Yep! Just press the button and it pops out to give you something to pull on."
She popped open the door, stuck her head inside and looked around.
"Nice," she observed as she unzipped her waterproof jacket and slipped it off. Reaching in she hung it on a hook and bent to untie her boot laces.
Even with waterproof trousers on I could tell she had a nice bum.
"Sure it's OK to put these in the shower tray? They're only wet, not muddy."
"Perfect. Are you cold? I can make a cuppa if you like?"
"I'm fine thanks, unless you want one? I'd like to get out of my jeans, if you don't mind? They're not wet but waterproofs make them feel horrid after a while."
"No problem. I've only been on the road about 40 minutes. I'm good too. Get yourself comfy, no rush."
The waterproof trousers came off and were hung up with the jacket. She started to undo her jeans while I watched then stopped. Bugger! Looking at her rucksack she tilted it forwards, unzipped the lowest pocket and pulled out the attached groundsheet. Lifting the bag she worked the groundsheet under the bag and put it down.
"Sorry should have done that first," she apologised, undoing the top and rummaging around inside and pulled out two items, placing them on a seat.
"Don't worry about it. It's camper van, a drop of water isn't going to hurt it. I'm thinking, I'm going up to North West Scotland. I'm happy for you to travel with me until our paths diverge, how does that sound as a starting point?"
"Oh, I'd like to go all the way with you," she chuckled wickedly.
And I'd like to go all the way with you! My mind responded without a second thought.
"It's many a long year since a beautiful woman said that to me," I teased.
A traffic report started on the radio.
"'Excuse me," I said turning quickly to increase the volume.
When I turned back she was unbuttoning her jeans. I watched blatantly, hoping she wouldn't go into the shower unit to actually change. I listened to the report, she stopped unbuttoning and listened also.
"Well, that's gonna bugger things up a bit," she declared once the broadcast had finished.
She returned to her jeans and started to slide them off her hips and down, very well aware that I was studying her every move but showing no signs of discomfort.
"We could go right along the M27, up the M3 and take the A34 at Winchester, come out north of Oxford or maybe instead of the M40 the A44 towards Worcester and straight up the M5?" she suggested as she stepped out of her jeans and stood up straight.
She had a great pair of legs. Strong but still womanly. Most certainly a walker if not a full blown hiker. Right at the top was a delicious, smooth pussy with nice, fat, swollen lips. I could see it was smooth because the tiny strip of material that masqueraded as panties was jammed up between the nice, fat, swollen lips. Seemingly unconsciously she slipped her finger under the thin strip ran it down to the bottom and started to straighten it out.
"I could do that for you?" I offered with a dirty, theatrical leer.
