That summer long, long ago, is a part of my life I shall always look back on with great affection. I had just left the cloistered environment of a boys' boarding school and was looking forward to the long summer break before starting uni in the autumn. I had no plans, no commitments and relatively few cares.
Having spent all my school days in various boys' schools and not having sisters, the female of the species was a complete mystery. One I was keen to investigate, but a mystery none the less.
I knew they had breasts; the term boob wasn't used back then; they were breasts in polite conversation or tits to us boys. We all pretended we knew all about them, but in fact our knowledge was limited to one of the few racy publications of the day.
As for what went on between their legs; that was a complete unknown. The diagrams in the biology books gave no hint of the erotic delights to be found in that particular location. Let's face it, a diagram of a vagina and some ovaries with an egg making its way along a fallopian tube is not the stuff of erotic fantasy, so that bit was all unknown territory.
However, although I was keen to find out, it wasn't ruling my life like cricket or tennis. So, I was of a mind to just enjoy life and see what happened. A girl friend would be nice but not the top priority.
My parents had moved house during my last year at school and I hadn't had much opportunity to make friends in the new area.
I had been rather good at tennis at school and obviously enjoyed watching it on television, although mostly in black and white, as colour TVs were pretty scarce back then.
One of my priorities was the local tennis club where, in my mother's words, I would meet people of my own age, and I was lucky enough to have access to her little car to get me there and back. After a week of lolling about at home doing nothing, generally being a lazy nineteen-year-old, I decided to go and investigate.
I discovered that there was coaching available and different groups played on different days or different times. I obviously joined the younger set where I met a few like minded boys and one or two girls!
Bob was the coach, he was an elderly man, that is to say in his forties, but that was ancient to me at the time. He was obviously athletic, fit and assumed the roles of mentor, coach and rogue uncle.
Rogue uncle because he used expressions to us youngsters that our parents never used, like tits. I know it sounds very tame by today's standards but none of us had ever heard an adult use that expression. What he said to the girls, I have no idea, but I am willing to bet he was just as avant guard. One of his favourite expressions for return of service was,
"Try and get it between her legs." Usually with a slight smirk, knowing that we had less than pure thoughts about getting something in that particular region.
Two of us shone in Bob's eyes and he was keen to cultivate us. Eventually he suggested that Dave, my new pal, and I join the Saturday morning group which was mostly adults. Dave was less than enthusiastic because he had designs on a tall willowy blond girl in our group, but I was happy to give it a go.
There was a lot of doubles played on Saturday, probably because of the size of the group and trying to get as many games in as possible. It was here I learned the joys of mixed doubles. Bob seemed to set up the pairings and I frequently found myself playing with Anne.
She was about thirty, tall with long blond hair, noticeably small tits, but a totally delicious bottom. She was married, but her husband didn't play, and I used to follow that pert little bum round the court like a well-trained puppy. To my shame, I spent far too much time imagining the delights that were revealed to her husband as she slipped out of her tennis gear, to the expense of my concentration.
Anne used to bring her friend, Carol, who was, as is so often the case, rather the opposite. Carol was shorter than average with a much fuller figure. She was, I think, half Italian, had olive skin, bronzed legs, powerful thighs and a thoroughly remarkable chest, all topped off by short, spiky died blond hair. I am pretty sure our schoolboy vocabulary would have described her tits as jugs and, when Anne and I played against her, the distraction factor of her jiggling breasts gave them a significant advantage. Not to mention Bob's words ringing in my ears, "Try to get it between her legs." The thought of getting anything between those toned bronzed and powerful thighs was the stuff of fantasy.
Frequently, after all the matches had been played, she and Anne would chat over a drink and sometimes they included me, much to my surprise as they were that much older. I would like to say, much to my delight as well, but I had often just spent a considerable part of our match ogling either Anne's bottom or Carol's chest and, to be honest, I was rather embarrassed. It was always difficult to know where to look when chatting to Carol.
The summer wore on and the friendship grew, to the point where I had overcome my anatomical fixations and was rather enjoying the company of the 'visitors from planet girl' or more accurately 'planet woman'. I confess my lewd thoughts about Anne stripping off in front of her husband recurred from time to time, but at least I could chat with both of them without it being my sole preoccupation and I was fascinated when the conversation took a slightly risqué turn, which it did from time to time.
On one particular occasion Anne alluded to the fact that she was planning to have sex with her husband that evening and that really got my imagination tumbling. Actually, all she said was something about a romantic evening, but the wink that accompanied the remark was what set it all off. Carol remarked,
"Easy on Anne, you'll embarrass the lad!" Only served to confirm my suspicion and the image of a stark-naked Anne, flat on her back, with her legs in the air, revealing the mystery of what was concealed between her slender thighs, filled my brain for the rest of the afternoon.
As the tennis drew to a close one Saturday, I noticed Anne wasn't about. Carol came over to me and explained that she had had to go early, and could I possibly give her a lift home. It really wasn't far out of my way and, even if it had been, I would, of course, have said yes.
"I can't very well go prancing round the streets dressed like this." She explained, indicating her short skirt and somewhat tight tennis top which, even with the added help of her sports bra, totally failed to hide the dual protrusions of her rather pert nipples.
The drive to Carol's house was uneventful except that I couldn't help noticing that rather a lot of well toned, bronzed thigh was on display now that her short skirt had ridden even further up in the low car seat, not to mention her well developed chest adding to the pleasant scenery.
"Coffee?" She said on arrival. I was taken aback as I was not expecting it, but not wishing the encounter to come to an end, I readily accepted.
"Or perhaps you'd prefer a beer," she said flicking the switch on the kettle. Coffee, back then, almost certainly meant instant, which was O.K. but the thought of a beer was just too tempting.
She reached up into a high cupboard for a glass and I had a magnificent view of the full length of her toned thighs as her skirt rose up, and more than a glimpse of her bum, tightly encased in white cotton panties. I quickly averted my gaze so as not to get caught peeking and prevent the embarrassing possibility of a swelling in my shorts.
She made a coffee and poured the beer. Shortly afterwards she announced that she 'smelled like a bear' and was going to take a quick shower. Showers in ordinary houses were very rare at that time and I was somewhat envious, we certainly didn't have one. I took this as my cue to go, so I swigged a large mouthful of beer and made as if to leave,
"Better get going." I said, ruefully.
"No need, I won't be two ticks. Just enjoy the beer and I'll be right back. Besides there is something I want to ask you." She shot off upstairs before I had time to think.
Inevitably the image of Carol taking a shower filled my youthful brain. I heard the water running and couldn't help but imagine her pulling off her top, undoing her bra and freeing those magnificent tits. What came next? The skirt of course. It fell to the floor in my musing and then she stepped out of those recently glimpsed, white cotton panties.
She was naked now, stepping into the streaming water and soaping herself all over. My imagination was running away with me, and I had to try to stop it for fear of provoking an erection. Fortunately, the water suddenly stopped flowing and I desperately tried to banish the thought of her drying her voluptuous form from my mind.
