Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter of the story out. I hope that you enjoy the latest adventures of our hapless hero.
You can read the other chapters by clicking on our profile.
As always I use Australian slang in my stories, if you need help deciphering some of the terms, just ask.
Please leave a comment or send us a message.
—----
It wasn't my alarm clock that woke me, it was the sound of something scratching in the ceiling that roused my naked torso.
Glancing at my alarm clock I was stunned to find that I had managed to achieve a massive four hours of sleep. My final memory from the night before was stumbling out of a room full of sex crazed middle-aged Rotarians, stumbling into the shower and falling dead asleep.
Now I was in that sweet zone where I had two and a half hours before my school day began. This ordinariness was preceded by the promise of an early morning liaison at a riverside beach with the horny Erin.
With that in mind I attempted to leap out of bed, but it turned into nothing more than a sickening lurch as the impacts of a night of alcoholic excess cursed through my veins.
I was almost tempted to fall back into bed and crash out, but after missing out on a quick feel the night before, that young slut wasn't going to get away with it today.
I threw my cycling gear on and washed down two painkillers with about a litre of water.
When I checked where the beach was it confirmed my decision to ride there as it was only three kilometres from the centre of town. Plus from experience I know there's not much better than a quick pedal to sweat the toxins out from a night of drink, and a three K sprint is exactly what I needed.
I also wanted to show off my physical fitness to the young nymph, so the bicycle it was.
I wrestled the bike out of my room and down the stairs, conscious of the fact that many of the rooms were booked out, and not wanting to alert any of the Rotarians who may have wanted an extra serving of dick for breakfast.
After double checking the direction I needed to go in I threw a leg over and spun off down the road. The clear country air really did begin to clear my head and as I came around the roundabout I saw out of the corner of my eye the old Toyota Hilux ute from the pub coming down the main drag. Erin, surely that must be Erin. my cock came alive at just the idea of it.
I cautiously looked back over my shoulder and noticed that there was not one, but two people in the ute. When it passed I saw that Erin had brought Georgie along for the ride. My cock was now getting uncomfortable, moreso after they circled around the next roundabout, went back to the previous one, went around it and this time slowly cruised alongside me.
"Hi sir," Georgie called out, I looked around before lowering my head and stared at Erin, who had that devilish smile then said "Joining us at the beach?"
"I hope to, if Erin doesn't run me off the road."
"Nah, she wouldn't do that. She loves her Mr Hornyman."
Before I could respond Erin giggled and accelerated away, leaving me to continue on for at least two kilometres.
It was certainly the quickest two k's that I'd pedalled in my life, but not so fast that on my way there I didn't notice that I was heading in the direction of my immediate supervisor and head teacher Sharon's place. The home where I witnessed an orgy similar to the one I'd been an active participant in only the night before.
In Coolamein the roads are straight and flat and I could see that the girls had turned off the main highway towards the river. Although the side road to the river was a dirt track, I was sure that my road bike would manage it well enough.
It did slow my progress a touch, but as soon as I came over the rise and down into the tree lined picnic area, my heart bounded in joy.
There stood Erin and Georgie, both topless with the early morning summer sun shimmering through their long hair. I nearly stacked my bike as I rolled down the dodgy track onto the beach.
I could feel the sweat trickling down my back as I performed a gracious dismount and leaned my bike against the Hilux.
Their perfectly formed, pert young breasts, complete with soft pink nipples, were mesmerising and I clearly missed the looks on their faces as I moved closer.
"Eww sir," Georgie said, "You're all sweaty."
"Well" I said as I motioned closer, "We'll all be sweaty soon enough."
"Not unless you strip off and wash all that eww off you."
"You two are going to join me?"
Erin grabbed a large towel and spread it on the river sand. When she dropped to her knees and rubbed my cock through my pants, he made the decision for me.
"I'll be right back," he said.
I ripped my t-shirt right off my head, kicked my riding shoes off and slowly rolled my shorts down and off.
"Are you sure you don't want a little feel now," I said, on behalf of my dick.
"River, now!" Erin said. "Your pubes are all wet, and it's not from our pussy juice."
Georgia giggled and said, "Maybe he's been entertaining Lin again this morning."
"Ohh, double eww," Erin laughed. "Get in the fucking water."
I ran across the sand and dived headlong into the surprisingly cold, but ultimately revitalising water. What really took me by surprise was how strong the current was, and how many roots and branches there were in the water.
What took me most by surprise though was that of the sound of a car door slamming closed.
When I spun around I was greeted by the sight of Georgie lifting my bike into the back of the ute and Erin tossing my clothes and the towel in with it.
"Oi!" I screamed out, "What the fuck are you two doing?"
There was no answer other than just laughter and a wave as I struggled to drag myself out of the river.
Within seconds they were tearing up the track, my bike and clothes sliding around the tray.
"Fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk," I screamed at the cockatoos that had been unsettled by the ute ripping down the road.
To add insult to injury, a Kookaburra began laughing.
"Oh you can fuck right off," I demanded of it.
I simply could not believe what was happening. A part of me wanted to believe that it was just a joke, that the girls would be further up the hill, in a special lair, naked and waiting for me.
I finally dragged myself out of the water and tore up the hill to where they'd parked. All that was left were my riding shoes, graciously left behind. They took my socks of course, and every other item that I could use to cover myself.
Being caught naked with two girls I could have lived with. Being caught alone in a public area.... that will destroy you.
Hope does spring eternal, especially when you're naked, and as I pulled my shoes on I decided to chance a quick run up the track to see if the girls had stopped halfway. They hadn't, and as I solemnly walked back to the river bank, I pondered my options.
Walking up to the highway was out of the question. I couldn't ring anyone nor could I just sit there and wait. The only option came to me as I sat watching the river flow past me.
Somewhere further downstream, maybe a kilometre or two, was the road to the home of my head teacher Sharon Hogan and her husband Marcus.
I knew the layout of their home and maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't be home and I could nick some of Marcus's gear and take it from there.
It was a risky move because their home wasn't on the river, but further in an estate.
At that moment the possibility of my drowning in the river was very real, it happens, but baking in the sun wasn't an option.
I eased myself, with shoes on, back into the water and I was pleasantly surprised with how quickly it carried me further downstream. At one point I considered letting it drag me all the way to South Australia and into the mouth of a Great White shark.
It wasn't long after that I could see in the distance the remains of an old bridge and a carpark next to it. Using only my internal compass I decided to alight from my watery taxi and try to get better bearings on my locale.
The bank of the river was actually better than where I previously was and I managed to quite easily wander up into an abandoned camping area. I fruitlessly searched for something to wear, but there was nought.
Looking down the road I was pleased to see what looked like the roofline and driveway of the Hogan house. It was the opposite angle to how it looks coming from the town, but I was pretty convinced it was theirs.
There was one other home on my right, about 50 metres down the road, but it did look unkempt and I was hoping it was somebody's holiday home.
I decided to make a run for it. The Hogans' house was about 400 metres away, a distance that I would normally struggle with, but with the added bonus of adrenaline I made quick time.
As soon as I came closer to the driveway I patted myself on the back and formulated a plan as to how I would enter their property, steal some clobber, and make my way back into town.
Trying to snake onto someone's property, in the nude, is not something I'd tried before so I took the least obvious path on the southern side of the driveway. Ducking low along the pittosporum hedge I finally came up to the carport and I was disappointed to find both of their cars in the drive, and no bikes to steal.
I was even more disappointed when I noticed that there were no clothes on the clothesline, and not even a spill sheet in the carport. For the first time in my life I was left wondering where all the world's fabric was.
I could see what looked like a shed or a studio further down the yard so I decided to try that for luck. As I snuck along the side of the house I could hear a shower running inside and footsteps going down the hall in the direction I was heading.
At least I would only have one pair of eyes to avoid.
When I reached the end of the house I could also see a pair of board shorts and a few towels hanging off the pool fence. If the shed was void of anything worthy to wear, I would bide my time in there until they both left for work, then grab the boardies, maybe even go into their home and ring a taxi.
Suddenly I was a criminal, or at least planning to be.
With the shed only about 10 metres away I once more got down low, and almost in a crab-like fashion made my way across the open lawn.
What I heard next pulled me up like a horse that has seen a snake. It wasn't a gun cocking, or a shriek. It was my name, spoken with that lifting end, as if it was a question.
"Julian?"
