We did many things that managed to get ourselves into trouble; we did even more things that should have got ourselves into a spot of bother and didn't. We did get lucky; we got a lot of bollockings and "advice for the future" but we also got away with many more shenanigans than we were ever caught for. Alicia and I fed off each other; excitement and silliness rising until our aberrations were noticed and punished, or we had a narrow escape.
We met at a naturist resort when we were both twelve, our families holidaying in adjacent chalets. I barely noticed her: she was a wiry, unassuming girl who was no match for my attention when I had 200 acres of naturist activities to occupy my mind.
We talked a bit: she told me of some sand dunes to the South of the beach, on the other side of a wire fence, that were bigger and with a steeper incline than those on the "main" beach. After dinner, I slipped away from my family to see. I wasn't allowed on the beach on my own but it was only a ten minute walk from the chalet and I wanted to slide down the dunes. I told my mother I was going to the swimming pool.
I heard her cries as I reached the dunes. We were at the limits of the resort; I was half-a-mile from the road and she was at the bottom of the dune in agony. Her ankle was twisted at an unnatural angle and her face was pure white and bloodless. I sat with her as she screamed in pain, tears rolling down her cheeks. She yelled as I carried her up the dune, along the twisting path and through the gap in the fence to the main beach. We could not be found in a restricted area; we would be in serious trouble if we admitted to going through the fence.
By the time we were found and Alicia was sent to the hospital by ambulance, our panicking parents had noticed we were missing and the resort was organising a search. I got quizzed, I got reprimanded for going to the beach alone. But Alicia and I started a friendship that got stronger on every naturist holiday, and flourished at University when we signed up for the same art course, aged eighteen.
By University, she had blossomed into a fine, young lady: smooth curves that elegantly showed her lithe body and a salaciously dirty mind that rampantly teased my teenage hormones. Even at University, I was regularly naked around her. I wandered around my shared flat in the Halls of Residence with nothing on, and she was not adverse to joining me; we were regularly together as friends, sharing coffees and pooling the cooking. Other people sometimes joined us, as long as, like my flatmates, they were OK with the nudity. Not everyone was.
Alicia loved nothing more than to coax my cock into an erection, subtly playing mind games with my arousal before seeking to deny me. Her lips wrapped around the top of a banana, seductively sucking on the fruit while her hand cupped her pubic twirls was a favourite torment. Another was to regale my desperate self with tales of her recent one-night stands. I had no idea if they were true, but I was getting very little sex so intimate and detailed stories of her rampant debauchery always had my prick erect.
She just loved to tease and torment, enjoying seeing my face twisted with desperation and frustration.
It was mean.
But sometimes she didn't just tease. Her end-of-term art project was a piece of external art she planned to install at the entrance to the University on the roundabout; the most prominent site on the campus.
She wanted my help to create this, and we travelled to her parents' small cottage one weekend, despite her refusing to reveal her plans to me. This should have sent alarm bells ringing.
I slept in her bedroom overnight and I woke that morning to have my friend kissing the end of my tumescent prick. She glanced over the top of my pubic hair, staring at my expression as my cock fizzled with lust. Her hands cupped my delicate balls and her mouth slid along my shaft, sucking the tip into a concupiscent mass of lustful passion.
It had been two years since she had last given me a blow-job, and I melted into the airbed as my body soaked the intense stimulation of her talented lips. She had learned a lot in the intervening years, her tongue caressing the sensitive underside of my prick as her mouth brought me to the edge of my orgasm.
And then she stopped. "Later," she promised, giggling at my desperation. I writhed; she prevented me from masturbating myself into a climax. We had work to do.
Alicia had sourced a seven foot tree trunk that she laid horizontally in the garden. I resentfully assisted, sawing where she told me to and watching as she crafted an elegant statue over the weekend.
She teased relentlessly; the soft pink of her femininity regularly on display during the two weekend days as she taunted her sexuality to me. I wanted her. I wanted to fuck the little minx, hold her down and pound her pussy. Or I wanted to throw her mischievous body over her wooden log and take her from behind, slamming my cock into her as she squealed and grunted, taking my orgasm from her wretched body.
