The Hiker’s Friend

Story from Uniform Girls 4

The evening sun dipping behind a row of trees, the distant sound of a dog barking in a farmyard, and no-one within a mile to stumble upon the little tent pitched in a secluded copse.

‘Right, where is it?’ asked Mr Shilton. ‘The Camper’s and Hiker’s Friend. Has anyone seen it?’

Susan who hadn’t been on a camp with Mr Shilton before, who indeed hadn’t done any camping, looked blank. Julie giggled.

‘Wha…what?’ said Susan.

‘The Vaseline, Susan dear. The soother of chafed parts; the protector of potentially sore orifices.’

Susan went bright red. This time both Julie and Angela giggled. Mr Shilton, smiling, stepped closer to Susan. ‘Yes, orifices, Susan darling. You know what orifices are, I presume?’

Her cheeks went even redder. Yes she did know what orifices were. Mr Shilton’s hand reached out and his finger gently rubbed across Susan’s full lips. ‘Lips can get quite sore on a camping trip, Susan. We don’t want pretty Susan to come home with her lips all sore, do we?’

Julie and Angela were giggling again. Julie said, ‘What lips?’ and then ‘Ooouch!’ as Mr Shilton turned quickly round and slapped her bare legs below the tight blue skirt. As Susan watched, wide-eyed, Mr Shilton, saying ‘Naughty girl!’, grabbed Julie and pulled her close up against him. One hand was squeezing her waist and the other quite unashamedly roved over the tight seat of Julie’s short skirt. Julie made squealing sounds but seemed to enjoy what was happening. Susan bit her lip. She was new to this Guide Group and Mr Shilton, in charge, seemed a lot more — well, friendly, — to the girls than Mrs Astbury, who she had had before.

Mr Shilton suddenly stopped grappling with Julie and grabbed Susan’s arm. ‘Come on, Susan; you and I shall search for the Camper’s Friend. You other two get things stowed away in the car.’

There were just the four of them, Mr Shilton and the three girls, and they were going off for a long weekend: three nights. They had two tents. Two girls in one tent and Mr Shilton and one girl in the other. ‘So we each get a night with Mr Shilton,’ Angela had said yesterday when they were getting their things sorted out at the Guide Hut. ‘Unless greedy pig Julie tries to get all three nights!’ At that Julie and Angela who were evidently close friends started wrestling until Miss Burchill, Mr Shilton’s assistant, came in and sorted them out.

Susan had blinked at what Angela had said. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted a night in a tent with Mr Shilton. He was dishy all right if you liked older men — thirtyish probably, tall and good-looking and the other girls were all swoony about him. But the fact that he was attractive made the thought of a night in a tent with him that much more scary.

Now she found herself taken by the hand and marched indoors, into Mr Shilton’s house. They had all three been driven out here to his place by their mothers. A 20 mile drive would get them to where they begin hiking. ‘Upstairs,’ said Mr Shilton, ‘I have a feeling it might be up there.’

He indicated that Susan should go first, quite possibly so that he could admire her bottom as she ascended the stairs in front of him. Like the other two Susan was in blue Guide’s blouse and a blue skirt, together with knee-socks and black shoes. The skirt was short, baring the full length of slightly chubby thighs, and also attractively tight over her plump bottom. Susan’s rear aspect was an extremely stimulating sight. Too stimulating perhaps. Almost immediately she gave a yelp as Mr Shilton’s hand reached out and up.

By the time they had got to the top Susan had emitted several more squeaks, for a girl’s bottom really is at risk when ascending stairs immediately in front of a bottom-keen individual such as Mr Shilton. At the top he delivered a sharp but friendly slap, making the blue cotton wobble.

‘A very nice one, Susan. A very pretty bottom and of course a very pretty girl.’

Susan was an attractive package all right, medium height with all her various bit and pieces firm and well-rounded plus a softly pretty face framed by long well-brushed blonde hair. The Fates had clearly been smiling on Mr Shilton when a week ago her mother had brought her round to the Guide Hut. They had just moved to the town and she was keen for Susan to continue the discipline of guide training.

‘By all means,’ Mr Shilton had welcomed. ‘She can come on the little hike I’m organising for the weekend.’

They crossed the landing to enter a pretty, feminine-looking bedroom. It was a small room but it contained a double bed. On a bedside table, next to two books, there, sure enough, it was. A small jar labelled ‘Vaseline’. Susan’s wide eyes took it in and took in also the two books. The top one was Wild Flowers of Our Countryside. Under it, on the spine of the second book, she read, What a Girl Should Know About Sex. Looking at this and the jar of Vaseline Susan felt the colour flooding to her cheeks.

‘Yes, here we are. I thought so.’ Mr Shilton put his arm round Susan, turning her and gazing into the big blue eyes. ‘I keep this room made up in case a girl wants to stay the night after Guide Work. And it looks as if our little friend has come in here ready to greet any pretty visitor, doesn’t it?’

Susan didn’t answer. It was very disconcerting having Mr Shilton so close and she was also thinking about that scary book, What a Girl Should Know About Sex. Susan didn’t know very much, but she bet the others, Julie and Angela, did. And Mr Shilton of course… And there was the little friend… That jar… The way they had giggled…

‘Sorry-s-sorry, but it hurts! Really it does!’

‘Don’t worry, my dear, you cry all you want: there’s no-one to hear you — now, just lift your bottom up a little bit more —

Mr Shilton sat abruptly down on the bed. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Now we’ve found him he’d better do his job, hadn’t he? All those little parts that can get sore.’ His hand came out and slid lightly onto Susan’s thigh. He gave it a pinch and then his fingers went up to the blue cotton skirt.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘This is where you can get quite a bit of chafing. All around where the knickers stop. They can start cutting into sensitive parts when you’ve walked a few miles. Shall we have a look? Slip your skirt down, Susan dear.’

Susan blinked, wide-eyed.

‘The skirt, Susan. Slip it down. Or shall I…’

Susan made a squeaky sound. But you couldn’t argue with Mr Shilton, could you? Especially if you were a new girl. She undid the popper and then the zip. Mr Shilton pulled the skirt down. Pink nylon knickers, tight and quite brief. This time it was a spluttery sort of gasp as Mr Shilton’s finger traced the taut edge where it cut diagonally up from the swelling central bulge to the hip bone.

‘There,’ he said. ‘There’s where a girl can get problems. And here as well.’ The fingers came suddenly down and pushed in between Susan’s legs, where the pink nylon stretched over that soft bulge. ‘Right here.’

Susan’s knees felt as if they had turned to jelly.

‘Slip them down,’ he said, ‘and lie on the bed. On your back with your knees up. Then we’ll see if our little friend can do his job.’

Somehow Susan was up on the bed with her skirt and knickers off and her knees up. Mr Shilton’s accomplished fingers smoothly applying the Hiker’s Friend to where the knickers might chafe. Sweating, Susan stared fixedly at the ceiling, her two hands desperately grasping handfuls of bedspread. She simply wasn’t used to anything like this. There had never been anything of this sort at that other Guide Group with Mrs Astbury…

She gave a sudden shudder. Mr Shilton’s finger, fully laden with Hiker’s Friend, had moved from the side, where the edges of her knickers went, to the centre. The very centre. A girl’s very central super-sensitive spot.

‘And here,’ said Mr Shilton. ‘Right here. A girl wouldn’t want to get sore here.’ The finger went in… and out… and then repeated its action… ‘There.’

----//----

‘I bet it was in the bedroom all the time,’ smirked Angela. ‘And I bet Mr Shilton knew it was there.’

Susan was back down with Angela in Mr Shilton’s car, though not too sure how she had got there, not sure that her legs could possibly have transported her. Julie was in the house now, upstairs.

‘Mr Shilton’s naughty, isn’t he?’ Angela was continuing. ‘What about at your other group. You had a lady Guider you said. What was she like?’

Susan shook her head. She felt all woozy. ‘Uh… OK… She knew a lot… about knots.’

‘Knots?’ Angela sounded incredulous. ‘Cripes! That’s really boring. I hope Mr Shilton’s not going to be too long with Julie. Julie’s a bit naughty at times, you know.’ She giggled and reached her hand across, to the silky bare surface of Susan’s thigh. ‘Got the Vaseline on, have you? That Hiker’s Friend. Don’t you think Mr Shilton’s super!’

Susan wasn’t in a state for thinking anything really. What had happened had been just too much. The hand on her thigh squeezed gently. ‘What about that lady Guider who knew all about knots? Was she pretty? What d’you think of Miss Burchill? She’s pretty, isn’t she? She’s 23. She’s got a really good figure too.’ Angela giggled again. ‘She’s got a lot of black hair on her thing. Like Julie, only more than Julie.’

Susan pictured Miss Burchill, Assistant Guider, who was an attractive brunette. In what circumstances had Angela seen her… her thing?

‘Is yours blonde or more brown?’ queried Angela, fingers tracing little patterns on Susan’s silky flesh. ‘I suspect Mr Shilton had a good look, when he was putting on the Hiker’s Friend.’

Susan swallowed. Yes, Mr Shilton had had a good look. And not only a look. She put her hand over Angela’s which was now at the top of her leg scarily close to where Mr Shilton’s hand had so mind-bogglingly been. Susan thought again of that book, What a Girl Should Know About Sex.

‘Have you ever… er…  stayed with Mr Shilton? I mean for the night?’

‘Oh yes; of course. Don’t worry, you’ll get to stay. When you’re doing Special Instruction.’

‘Wha…what?’

‘Special Instruction. You know: Sex Instruction silly. Hasn’t your mother got you down for that?’

‘N…nooo. I don’t think so.’

‘She will. Mr Shilton will have a talk with her. She doesn’t want her daughter to learn all that stuff from a lot of ignorant boys, does she? That’s what he’ll say. You’ll start with Miss Burchill: the basics. And then the more advanced, well intermediate and advanced, will be with Mr Shilton. Julie and I are doing advanced at the moment. That’s partly why we’re on this camp, so we can do some practising with Mr Shilton.’

Susan shook her head; it was too much. That was what that scary book was for. And what about the little jar, the Hiker’s Friend, the contents of which Mr Shilton had used so mind-zappingly. Could that be used for anything else? For the moment Susan forgot Angela’s hand and let go. It took quick advantage of its freedom to firmly goose Susan between her legs.

Susan’s squeal was joined by Angela’s high-pitched giggle. At this point the car door opened. It was Julie, smiling smugly. ‘What’s going on here?’

----//----

Twenty minutes later they were off, after Angela in turn had gone in the house with Mr Shilton. Julie in the front, Susan in the back seat with Angela. Susan looked out of the window but she didn’t see anything, or at least didn’t see what was out there. What she could see in her mind was Mr Shilton’s bedroom with that double bed, and tonight and the next two nights: tents. One night herself and Mr Shilton together in a tent. The Hiker’s Friend; would that need to be applied again? To go with all this there was now this new mind-zapper. Special Instruction.

In no time at all, it seemed, they were there. A little car park on the edge of the open moorland. ‘Here we are,’ Mr Shilton told them. ‘From here on it’s walking. And we shouldn’t have any complaints about sore nooks and crannies, should we?’

They clambered out and Mr Shilton opened the boot to get their things. It was just 3 o’clock, a hot July afternoon. Julie, groaning, said, ‘Oh Mr Shilton, we’ll be really sweating.’ He smacked her bottom and told her to get moving. They put on their rucksacks and then set out, along a track which led out onto the open moor.

It was hot with the sun beating down and with your rucksack on, and they were soon sweating. The girls of course had smaller rucksacks than Mr Shilton but then they naturally weren’t as strong. Julie and Angela were groaning a bit but keeping up the pace all right. Susan felt like groaning but thought it best to keep quiet. They must have walked for two hours, with only little rests, when they came to a small lake. After all that hard slog it looked heavenly.

Mr Shilton, after clamouring from Julie and Angela, agreed that they could stay there. He told them to put up the tents and then as they were all sweaty they could have a swim. None of the girls had brought swimsuits but Mr Shilton said that didn’t matter, it was quite private and also Guiders were supposed to be resourceful etc. Mr Shilton as it happened had brought his swim shorts.

Susan was not at all happy about swimming without a suit but it would be lovely and cooling. Shyly she stripped down to her bra and pink knickers — only to see that the other two girls were stripping to the bare. Hooting, they grabbed her and before you knew it, Susan was starkers too.

Angela yelped, ‘Look; she has got a real blonde one!’ Mr Shilton was all eyes even though he had seen it before in his bedroom. Scarlet-faced, Susan made a wild dash for the water. It felt freezing at first but at least her pink-nippled boobs, her bum and her downy blonde thing were hidden.

They larked about in the water, the three of them and Mr Shilton, who of course had his swim shorts on. They were brief blue ones, bulging out in front in a very scary and exciting way. He grabbed the girls, including Susan, and that wet bulge rubbed up against her in a way that took her breath away. She thought of being with Mr Shilton in his tent. She wanted to go home — but at the same time didn’t want to.

Tonight, though, it wasn’t Mr Shilton, it was Angela Susan was sharing with and Julie was going in Mr Shilton’s tent. ‘She would,’ laughed Angela when at 9 o’clock Mr Shilton said they might as well turn in and get a good night’s rest. Susan shivering, wondered if Julie was going to get a good night’s rest. In their tent Angela said, ‘Come on, let’s zip the sleeping bags together; then it’ll be nice and cosy.’

Was this normal Guide practice? Susan thought nervously of Angela’s hand which had goosed her between her legs in the car — and had also had a quick feel when she and Julie were grabbing Susan’s bra and pants off when they went in the water. ‘Come on,’ urged Angela, spreading out the sleeping bags. ‘Mr Shilton’s and Julie’s will be zipped together, you can bet on that. But then she is getting some Special Instruction, isn’t she.’

Cripes! Susan felt dizzy. ‘Do… do your mothers really know all about this? The Special Instruction?’

Angela gave one of her giggles. ‘Well, not completely. They think Miss Burchill does all the instructing but, like Mr Shilton says, it needs a man to really show you what’s what. That’s obvious, isn’t it? But our mothers don’t know that. Mothers can be a bit silly, can’t they? So you’ll be sworn to secrecy; Guide’s Honour and everything. Now come on, let’s get in bed.’

Angela was stripped down to brief knickers by this time. She had a trim figure, slimmer than Susan, her boobs firm apples compared to Susan’s which were more like good-sized oranges. The oranges were briefly on display as Susan stripped off and then reached for her pink pyjamas.

‘No!’ cried Angela. ‘You don’t need pyjamas on. It’s too hot.’ Angela’s own blue knickers were now off and she slid nude into the double sleeping bag. ‘No pyjamas and get in here.’

A brief hesitation and then Susan abandoned the pyjamas and climbed shivering in after Angela. She thought of Mr Shilton. Did he not wear anything in his sleeping bag? But Angela was talking of Miss Burchill.

‘She does do some of the Special Instruction of course. She starts you off, you could say. Miss Burchill is pretty hot stuff in bed. She said to me: Angela, you adorable creature, I’m going to suck your nectar.’

Susan blinked. What did that mean? Some sort of French kissing. Or… no, she refused to consider anything else.

‘Yes, she’s really swoony,’ breathed Angela. ‘But naturally it’s not the same as with a man, like Mr Shilton,’ she giggled. ‘So of course you need Mr Shilton for your Intermediate and Advanced. Me and Julie are on our Advanced right now. Julie will get it tonight and I’ll get it tomorrow. And then the last night, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr Shilton wanted to go right up to Intermediate with you even though you haven’t had the basics with Miss Burchill. Cos he’s awfully keen on Special Instruction is Mr Shilton and he won’t want to miss the opportunity.’

Susan’s head was in a real spin and she could only weakly protest as Angela rolled on top of her. Susan struggled but Angela was quite strong. She pinned Susan’s arms down at her sides and then came down in full front-to-front contact. Firm apples squashing down onto equally firm oranges. Angela gave a throaty growl and then was forcing her tongue into Susan’s mouth, at the same time writhing and rubbing her bare body on top of Susan. Susan thought she was going to suffocate.

After some extended writhing and kissing Angela got off. Her voice was thick and croaky. ’I can show you some of the basics, Susan. First we have to see if you’re producing your nectar.’ A hand went down, to where Mr Shilton’s hand had applied the Hiker’s Friend. Fingers did delicate practised things; things that brought a groaning squeal from Susan.

‘Oh yes, Susan, your hormones are working. Now you do it to me too.’ Her voice was low and urgent. ‘Come on. This is really the first lesson of basics.’

Susan didn’t really want to but she did. Actually this first lesson of basics was something she had done before a couple of times, with an older girl at her other school. Then as now she didn’t think she should do it but once you started it did get you going and you didn’t want to stop.

Susan thought of Mr Shilton in that other tent a few yards away. And Julie at this moment getting her session of Advanced Special Instruction? She thought again of the Hiker’s Friend and Mr Shilton’s words: ‘We can’t have sore orifices on a camping trip, Susan darling. You do know what orifices are, I presume?’ Yes she did. Angela’s fingers were now working in a steady stroking rhythm that threatened to blow Susan’s mind right out of her head — while her own fingers almost with a will of their own were similarly at work on Angela. Susan pictured Mr Shilton’s tightly bulging swim shorts. Her breath hissed out between clenched teeth.

Angela was now softly moaning. A few yards away in that other tent there were similar but more urgent moans from Julie. Interspersed with deeper, more masculine grunts.