Set in the UK, all activities portrayed involve consenting participants of 18 years of age or older, Grade Y13. For those unfamiliar with the UK education system 'A' levels are the gateway exams to gain entry to university, typically taken at age 18 or thereabouts.
I try to write my stories as standalone episodes, however, some characters will reappear in future stories as their lives develop.
All names are fictitious, no reference to real persons intended.
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Exams were done, but the term was not. As was tradition at South Milton Academy, the staff sought to fill the final part of their departing students' term with more enjoyable activities. It served as a way to help their students broaden their experiences now that they were no longer constrained by the rigours of a strictly prescribed curriculum. It also provided a welcome distraction from the gnawing pressure of the ever looming results day, not just for the students, but the staff as well. The trip would last for a week, or more specifically depart Monday, then away for four nights, and returning on the Friday.
Mr Baxter walked across the school yard a notice in hand, and shortly after pinning it to the noticeboard a growing group of A level students had gathered round. The forthcoming end of term trip choices was listed. School budgets were tight these days, so each trip had an associated supplementary cost to be funded by parental contribution.
Tom scanned down the list as he heard others excitedly chattering about the option of cycling in France. Tom already felt downcast; for a start, Tom had no bike, and he knew that the price of that trip was way beyond what his parents could spare. Some of the girls were eagerly chatting about the pony trekking trip in the Malvern Hills. Tom cursed his luck. If he could, that would be his first choice, a school trip with far more girls than boys. Suzy Skinner was loudly proclaiming that it was going to be her first choice.
Tom and doubtless a few of the other boys began to conjure up images of her delicious full tits bouncing as she rode along. Oh well, "we can all dream" he thought, before adding to himself "even if she is a really stuck up irritating bitch". Tom hadn't forgotten the time that his best friend Olly had mustered the courage to give her a bouquet of flowers on Valentine's day. Suzy had barely looked at the bouquet before deciding that it was neither big enough nor expensive enough, and simply tossed the bouquet on the floor and then deliberately stood on it, twisting her heel for added bitchy emphasis. Olly had been utterly crushed and humiliated by the experience. The problem was that most of the male half of the school still lusted after haughty Suzy Skinner, and she knew it and exploited it to the max.
Breaking away from fantasies of pony trekking with a bunch of horny girls, Tom more realistically began to examine some of the cheaper options. Canoeing in Wales - still too expensive, walking in Scotland - not a good choice unless he fancied being bitten to death in the height of the midge season. Then near the bottom of the list, and one of the cheapest choices, was a walking and camping trip on Dartmoor in Cornwall. A few enquiries revealed that the main camping equipment was provided, tent, cooking kit etc. He, or rather his parents, would only need to provide his personal kit, walking boots, waterproofs, rucksack, sleeping bag. Tom already had some boots that would do, and his every day waterproof jacket was ok, or at least good enough for a summer camping trip. He could borrow his brother's sleeping bag, and he felt sure he could find a rucksack for the trip.
Everyone submitted their preferred choices in a list. Tom put the camping trip as his first choice, and then put the most popular options like canoeing and cycling second and third. If by some weird stroke of fate he got the cycling option he'd deal with that later.
A couple of days later the list went up and Tom saw his name on the Dartmoor camping trip, his eyes scanned down the list of 24 names which were split into two groups. They would be travelling by minibus, or two minibuses to be precise, hence the two groups. Tom checked the list for familiar names, and also to see which teachers would be accompanying the students. A quick count confirmed 18 boys and just six girls; the teachers assigned to the trip were Mr Baxter and Mr Clarke, and also Miss Penrose who until just a week ago had been Tom's A level maths teacher. "I guess Miss Penrose is here to supervise the girls and Baxter and Clarke are for us boys" he reasoned to himself. At least we have one female teacher, and an attractive one at that on this trip, as well as six girls. Tom re-examined the list of girls names, only more carefully this time. None of the "Premier League" girls were listed here, but he knew a couple of the girls on the list, Nancy and Claire. He at least had the confidence to be able to talk to them, except for the fact that the girls and Miss Penrose were allocated to the second group. Tom felt his desires being thwarted at every turn.
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The journey down the M5 motorway through Somerset and into Devon was uneventful, if rather hot and uncomfortable. The school minibuses were noisy and lacked aircon, but the mood was cheerful enough. The weather forecast for the days ahead was good; warm and largely dry, something that cannot always be guaranteed in Cornwall. Eventually they broke away from the busier roads and began negotiating narrower lanes as they headed to one of the remoter parts of Dartmoor. They passed through a small hamlet, and Tom spotted a small General Store.
"We'll soon be there" Mr Baxter announced from the driver's seat. The minibus revved hard as Mr Baxter dropped through the gears as they climbed the short but sharp climb out of the hamlet. The terrain flattened out and they made a right turn into a somewhat untidy farmyard with a crudely painted arrow sign saying "Quality Campsite". To the left there was what looked like an old stone built farmhouse, it was not in the best state of repair. Straight ahead was the entrance to the campsite, they passed between two large stones marking the entrance to the site. The campsite was bounded by what looked to be a very old dry stonewall, sheep could be seen grazing in the fields and moors beyond.
To one side of the enclosed field was the farmhouse along with several barns, some of them housing long discarded rusty machinery. There were other outbuildings bordering the field as well. Being early July and still school term time, existing occupancy of the campsite was pretty sparse.
Mr Baxter went off to consult with the farmer while the students speculated on the facilities. Shortly Mr Baxter returned, and cautiously he drove across the the slightly bumpy site towards a more sheltered and unoccupied corner not far from the outbuildings. "This is probably the best spot for us to set up our tents" announced Mr Baxter, before going on to explain how the wall would shelter them from the prevailing south-westerly winds. Mr Baxter was a geography teacher, so he wasn't going to let an opportunity to educate go to waste. Most of the students rolled their eyes as if to say "you do know we've done our exams".
Attention quickly turned to getting things set up. Mr Baxter's minibus had a trailer with all the tents and gear and these were quickly distributed. "Wait" said Mr Baxter assertively as students were beginning to tug the tents out of their packaging. Miss Penrose and Mr Clarke joined Mr Baxter in a whispered huddle as they periodically pointed at different parts of their corner of the site.
"Ok" announced Miss Penrose, and then motioning said "girls, bring your tents over here, Colleen and Patricia, you are sharing here, Nancy and Claire.." and so their pairings and pitch spaces were allocated.
In turn Mr Clarke and Mr Baxter allocated the boys their positions and partners. Tom was allocated a tent with Brad, they had both been studying Maths and Chemistry in the same class, but Brad had done Biology while Tom had done Physics. They had always got on well enough, so Tom was content with his allocation. It appeared that Mr Baxter and Mr Clarke would be sharing a tent while Miss Penrose was the only person sleeping alone. The girls' tents were slightly apart from the boys' and kind of guarded by having the teachers' tents between them. Clearly the teachers had it in mind to prevent any night time naughtiness on this trip.
It turned out that the nearby outbuildings contained some fairly rudimentary showers with an unreliable supply of hot water as well as toilet facilities. Every now and again a shriek could be heard as some unfortunate person got an unexpected cold shower. In fact it was just such an incident that delivered a stream of profanities; only on this occassion the high pitched scream of "Ahhh, Fucking hell, the bastard!" came from the normally very professional Miss Penrose. She had blushed deeply as the boys in particular cheered when she subsequently emerged from the shower block with her long brunette hair still wet and tousled. Even Mr Baxter and Mr Clarke could not help a half concealed smirk at Miss Penrose's embarrassment.
Tom and Brad had been one of the more proficient pairings when it came to erecting their tent. They had also taken the care to pick a flatter piece of slightly elevated ground on which to pitch their tent within the area Mr Baxter had selected, a precaution should it rain during their stay. The tent design was a little old fashioned, a traditional ridge design, but seemed sufficient for the task, if not overly generous in size. Tom soon established that this was Brad's first time camping, it was similar for Tom apart from one occasion when he'd stayed at Martin's house and they had slept in a tent in his garden.
Collectively Tom and Brad agreed to keep all their stuff by the entrance to the tent, and then place their mats and sleeping bags further in. There had been a bit of debate about whether to sleep head to tail, or side by side; they had opted for the latter. "Easier to chat quietly" Brad had suggested, suspecting that Mr Baxter was more than likely to be prowling around after "lights out" checking that nothing untoward was going on.
Food preparation was slightly chaotic to begin with; not least because too many of the boys proved themselves almost incapable of doing something as basic as peeling potatoes. With a bit of organisation, and an overriding desire to have something to eat, things soon got mobilised more effectively. "Amazing what a bit of hunger can do." Tom had overheard Miss Penrose remark to her colleagues.
A two ring gas stove was set up and two deep pans of potatoes were boiled, a large barbecue was lit ready for some sausages. Bit by bit everything came together and a warm potato salad with a tangy dressing made by Miss Penrose accompanied the sausages, basic but enjoyable.
The light began to fade and the air began to chill, the sky was clear and once again Mr Baxter could not resist pointing out the stars. For sure the stars were so much more visible than back in the city, and though Tom was no astronomer, he too was able to appreciate the beauty of the sky above.
"Right everyone, time for one last trip to the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. Into your tents, and stay there until morning." Mr Baxter's voice once again rang out. There was just a hint of menace to the latter part of his sentence.
"Does that guy never get bored of barking out orders?" Tom whispered to Brad.
