Package Holiday
Chapter Two: Who's for Tennis?
I awoke with the sun streaming through the thin curtains of the log cabin. It took a little while to realise where I was. And then I remembered Simon, now my room mate, who I hadn't met until I arrived at this holiday camp yesterday. Simon's bed was alongside the same wall as mine, feet to feet, with the bathroom door between us.
I lay there luxuriating in not having to get up for work, and then I remembered with embarrassment our antics of the previous evening. Simon spanking my all but bare bum, as a result of a bet he'd won. Then, when he'd finished, him mocking me on noticing that under my white cotton slip I had developed a boner. To make matters worse we had ended up in a near-naked tussle, both of us in skimpy underslips, trying to pull them off each other.
The bathroom door opened, and out came Simon, fresh as a daisy, wearing a thin T-shirt and comfortable looking shorts. "Morning Dan!" he smiled.
"Listen Simon, about last night. I'm sorry - we were both drunk. What must you have thought of me, laying across your lap like that in nothing but my underpants, for a spanked bum? It won't happen again!" I threw back the covers, and got out of bed.
"Rubbish," replied Simon. "It was just a bit of harmless fun. And anyway, it was me who made matters worse by pulling your knicker elastic into your crack to expose your sexy cheeks. So why should you feel guilty? After all, it was my incurable gambling streak that made me suggest the bet in the first place."
I suddenly realised I was still wearing my ultra short pyjamas, and became embarrassed. When I packed I had thought I would be in single accommodation, and had given little thought when I packed my nightwear. The shorts were low cut at the waist, with a slender two inch gusset, the legs from the gusset rising to the outside of the thigh, exposing half the side of each buttock. The design was such that they had to be worn tightly into the crotch, as the waist was so low. The legs themselves were so ample in width that they flapped around like a skirt, leaving the parts of the anatomy hanging down the leg just about covered but feeling completely exposed.
I flushed, and turned away from Simon, wriggling the shorts down a bit, to give me better cover. "We're both to blame, I suppose." I said. "I guess we're bad news for each other. I'd hate to fall out with you, so I guess we'd best go our separate ways, and just meet up for the occasional drink and use the cabin to crash in," Then I headed for the bathroom. "I'm going for a shower before breakfast. See you!"
With that I disappeared into the bathroom, had a shave and a shower, changed into a T-shirt and shorts, and emerged ready to face a lone breakfast at the cafeteria.
Simon was still there, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking miserable. "What are you doing still here?" I asked. "I thought you were going for breakfast!" "I'm too upset. Seems such a shame after we got on so well yesterday that you don't want us to be mates for the week. I know we expected to be on our own, but I've already got used to having you around - you're good company." I went over to him and mussed his hair. He stood up and wrapped his arms around me and gave me a big hug.
"Great! I wasn't looking forward to breakfast alone," I beamed. "Let's make a pact. If we do get pissed and do something stupid, neither of us will get angry with the other. We'll just say Told you so!" suggested Simon. "And if there is a next time," he added, "I promise not to displace your knicker elastic!" "You won't get the chance!" I said. "No more horseplay, you mean?" he asked, looking a little disappointed. "No," I joked. "Next time I'll take them right off!"
With that we shook on it, and went for breakfast.
"What shall we do today, then?" Simon asked, after downing a huge pile of bacon and eggs. "Let's wander into the village, see what's around, perhaps grab a sandwich in a pub," I suggested. "Then we could come back and work it off with a game of tennis."
We popped back to the cabin to have a pee and pick up some cash to fund our lunchtime drinks. Just as we were leaving, we bumped into a couple of lads going in to the upper deck apartment of the cabin. They looked about the same age as ourselves. "Hi!" smiled the best looking one, quite tall, good looking, and with naturally blond hair. "I'm Richard. This is my mate Bill." He gestured towards the other lad, average height, not bad looking, and wearing glasses.
Richard was tall, with an athletic looking frame; Bill was shorted, and tending to be a little on the plump side.
We introduced ourselves, and Richard suggested we get together for a few drinks one evening. "You're on!" beamed Simon. "By the way," added Richard as we were just about to part company, "is one of you a school teacher, by any chance?" "No! Why do you ask?" Simon replied, looking puzzled. "It's just that we thought we heard the sound of someone getting six of the best, last night," explained Richard.
Simon held his gaze. I reddened uncontrollably, and turned away, whilst Bill giggled in a knowing sort of way. "See you, then!" waved Simon, as he turned and we set off.
When we were out of earshot, I said: "How much do you think they heard?" "Most of it, probably," judged Simon. "They had that knowing look! Don't worry though! Being bold enough to ask after suggesting we got together for drinks, means (a) they're not narrow minded enough to think bad of us, and (b) they've probably been pissed enough to do something similarly stupid themselves at some time."
It was about a half hour walk into the village, and it was about eleven thirty when we got there. We had a wander around for half an hour or so, peering in the many tacky souvenir shops, and shops selling 'locally made fudge and clotted cream'. Local my arse! We called in to the local off licence, and picked up a big pack of cans, and a couple of bottles of wine.
The main road went over a bridge which crossed a small river. There were numerous boats, and the inevitable people messing about in them, moored to the small quay.
"Hey! I've spotted it!" announced Simon. "Eh? What?" I asked, scratching my head. "Our lunch time pub, of course!" grinned Simon. "Come on, we're wasting valuable drinking time!" and he vaulted a low wall on to a path leading down to a traditional Olde Worlde pub, named The Sloop.
Being Sunday, it was already beginning to fill up with yachting types, but we found ourselves a nice little corner, and I fetched a couple of pints of the local bitter while Simon reserved the seats.
"Mmm! Not a bad pint!" mused Simon, quaffing half in one go. "By the way, how's your darts?" "Passable!" I ventured, agreeing with him about the bitter. "But we'd better stick to these seats today, or we'll lose them. Give you a game tomorrow. Bound to be quiet on a Monday." I looked at his glass, which already was almost empty. "Take it easy," I warned, "we've got an important tennis match this afternoon, remember?" "Fuck the tennis!! Come on, drink up, and I'll get another round in, and order some grub!" Simon offered.
I was enjoying the drink and the sense of unwinding, so I quickly emptied my glass and passed it to his waiting hand. Simon returned with two full glasses in his hands. "I've ordered a couple of rounds of toasted cheese and tomato, OK?" he asked, dumping two packets of crisps on the table.
It was quite a long wait for the food, and before long we were into our third pint. "I know it's the gambling streak in me," said Simon, "and say 'no' if you don't want to go along with it. But I've had an idea that I think would be a bit of fun, and give a focus to each evening." "Ok! Get to the point!" I smiled, wondering what was coming up. "Let's set ourselves a challenge every evening. Take it in turns to set one." "How do you mean, challenge?" I asked, not quite sure what he was getting at.
"Well, for example, one evening, the challenge could be to bring a girl back to the cabin for a drink, and get her to take her bra or knickers off, of her own free will, in front of both of us!" "Impossible! Neither of us could achieve that!" I exclaimed.
"Yeah, I know! That was just a for instance. Obviously we must pick something that's feasible, but hard enough that generally only one of us will succeed. He then wins," Simon explained. "Wins what?" I asked. "Wins the right to impose a pre-arranged penalty on the other. Like the spanking last night. Only last night was a bet, not a challenge."
I thought about it. "Does whoever is not setting the challenge and penalty have to accept whatever the other comes up with?" I asked. "We could make that a rule. It would save a lot of arguments. But let's say one sets the challenge, and the other devises a penalty for whoever is unsuccessful, without knowing what the challenge is. That way he doesn't get to reckon his chances of succeeding before deciding how rigorous to make the penalty," Simon continued. "OK!" I agreed. "But how about if neither, or both, succeed?" I asked. "Simple. Whoever fails, pays the penalty. Neither of us, one, or both." Simon seemed to have thought the whole thing through. Could well work as an interesting action game, I thought.
"Count me in, then," I smiled. "Providing we both promise not to fall out over it, if things go wrong." Simon grinned his infectious grin, and grabbed hold of my hand. "Shake on it?" he asked. "Final answer. No chickening out!" I promised.
Our food arrived. I went and fetched another pint. When I returned, Simon suggested that as he thought of the game plan, I could choose whether to set first challenge or first penalty. "Penalty, I think!" I said, as we started into the sandwiches, and our fourth pint. "Let's eat and drink, then do a bit of brain storming when we get back to base!" Simon suggested.
I was enjoying the occasion immensely. Simon was proving to be a real good mate, with a sense of the outrageous, and a liking for a bit of horseplay. I held my glass up. "To our friendship!" I said, quaffing a few mouthfuls. "Buddies!" beamed Simon, putting his hand under the table and squeezing my leg.
We weren't pissed, but we were decidedly the worse for wear by the time we were ready to leave. As we went outside we noticed the weather had changed, and no longer was it bright and sunny. We took a good fifteen minutes longer returning than we did on the outward journey. As we neared our holiday site, the clouds became darker and darker, and just as we were opening the cabin door, the heavens opened, and there was the most massive clap of thunder.
Feeling knackered after our lunchtime session and the humid walk back, we fell into the cabin, and both collapsed on our beds. After we'd recovered a bit, Simon wandered over to my bed, and perched on the edge of it.
"Well, that's fucked our game of tennis!" he announced, looking out of the window. "Let's write up our challenge and penalty for tonight! And after previous misunderstandings, we'd best clarify anything that the setter thinks important." Being the sketch artist, I produced pencil and paper for both of us, and Simon returned to his own bed. Fifteen minutes later, we had both completed the work for our evening's entertainment.
Simon took my paper, and gave me his. "First, the challenge!" he announced. "Thought I'd start off in a similar vein to last night, until we get into the swing of it. Read it out loud." "Says here: Get a girl to come back to the cabin with you, and have a drink." "What do you think?" asked Simon, obviously keen on his idea. "Hmm. Easily possible. Yes, a good challenge."
"Here goes with your penalty," he said, unfolding the paper I had passed to him. "Not very original, I'm afraid," I said, "Like yours, yesterday revisited but without the recriminations!" Simon smiled at the caricature of a bare bum in the corner, and read from the paper. Whoever fails the challenge has bottom smacked. Loser may wear underpants, but these may be manipulated by winner prior to the spanking. "That's OK!" beamed Simon. "To this evening! And may your cheeks be red later this evening!"
"Just one question," I added. "What happens if there's a disputed result? Like, if, say, the bird comes back to the cabin but refuses a drink." "If we agree there are reasonable grounds for a dispute, we won't bother to resolve it. Whoever's result is disputed also pays the penalty. That way, we won't get into arguments. I don't want us to fall out again," he said. "Nor do I!" I agreed.
"Let's have a kip!" I suggested, drowsily. I reached for a sweater and pulled it on, as with the arrival of the rain, the temperature had dropped. "Kip? Are you Spanish, or something?" he asked. "We don't have siestas in this part of the world. For Christ's sake, don't go boring on me!" With that, he started tickling me, mercilessly. Armpits, stomach, waist, but it was having little effect. "You'll not make me flinch by tickling!" I mocked. "I'm not ticklish!"
"Ok! If you're bored, what do you suggest we do?" I asked. "Gamble, of course!" he smiled, and produced a pack of cards. I took them, and had a look. Each card had a different glamour drawing of a scantily or partially clad female. Simon snatched them back from me! "Hey! You don't get to see them until you get to play with them!" he protested. "Get dealing then!" I urged, "I can't wait to see them!"
"Question is, what game to play?" he mused. "Myself, I'm into three card brag, pontoon, and games like that. But you need more than two players, and plenty of dosh." "Another thing," I pointed out, "we better pick a game that you're as new as at me, or it won't be fair." "What games are you into?" he asked. "That's the problem. I'm not into gambling games." "That's not a problem," he eventually decided. "We'll play a game of pure chance. That way, however much one of us wins, it will be fair."
"I know you love gambling," I said, very definitely, suddenly realising I was half cut, as probably was Simon, "but I don't want us to fall out over money. I like you too much!" "Aw! Thanks!" he said, sounding sarcastic, and in mock admiration, planted a big kiss right on my lips.
I decided we should change the subject. "If it's to be a game of chance, let's play Beat Your Neighbour," I suggested. "I'm not sure I now that one?" Simon inclined his head. "Sometimes it's known as Strip Jack Naked," I explained. "Ah! I know the one you mean. It's really a kids game, but as it's sheer chance, it will be just right for our purposes! And you've resolved another problem," he added. "Uh?" I asked. "Stakes! We won't play for money! We'll play for clothes. Strip Jack Naked, as you said. Strip poker by any other name!" I was a little dubious. "Sure we won't regret this, like last night?" I asked. "Course not! We'll put it down to horseplay! Bit of fun!" Simon remarked, already shuffling the cards, and starting to deal them.
"Hold on! Not so fast!" I said. "We've both got to have the same number of clothes on to start with, or it won't be fair!" "So I'm wearing trainers, socks, T-shirt, shorts, and underpants," he said. "Put on a sweater, then, and we'll be equal."
Simon went over to the window, and pulled the curtain closed. He put on his sweater, and we started playing. Strip Jack Naked is one of those games that can go on for ages, or end abruptly. The first game did the latter, and I lost it. I took off a trainer. "Come on!" protested Simon. "We'll be here forever if you play like that! Let's take shoes as one item, and socks as one item!" "Agreed!" I said, and took off the other trainer.
The next two games were average in length, except for the fact that I lost both of them, too! I removed my socks, and peeled off my sweater. Simon looked a bit over confident. "Don't worry! I'll get you, yet!" I warned.
The next game was a sudden death affair, and Simon lost. He played safe, and took off his trainers. Then he lost the next two, and we were neck and neck, both wearing T-shirt, shorts, and underpants.
"Have a gamble!" Simon challenged! "I thought that's what we were doing!" I said. "We're level pegging exactly at the moment," he said. "Let's go double for the next round. Loser removes two!" "Go on then!" I agreed. I soon came to regret agreeing. I lost the game, and was soon sitting there in nothing but my underpants. "Stand up and let's see you, then!" Simon demanded. I got up, and did a twirl, aware that, although I hadn't got a real boner, my package was certainly larger than normal, and its outline visible under the thin cotton covering.
I willed good luck to come my way. It did. I won the next two, and we were level pegging again, both sitting there in our white cotton slips. Strange, really. It was little different from wearing swimming trunks, yet it somehow felt infinitely naughtier!
"Pose, please! I had to!" I insisted. Simon stood, put his hands on his head, threw his head back provocatively, put one foot on a chair, and placed his other leg well away from the chair. His posture stretched his slip tight over the parts of his body it covered. It was obvious that his prick, under that cotton, was rock hard with the excitement of the game.
I gazed at him. A few black pubic hairs were peeking out from under the elastic at the sides of his slip. Simon could see I was mesmerised, and he put his hand down inside his underpants, and rearranged their contents. For a second I caught a tantalising glimpse of the tip of his cock, before the elastic was quickly re-arranged. I'd put money on that he did it deliberately for my benefit. Then, suddenly, he returned to his seat.
Now we were into the needle game! One of was due to lose big time! The cards came and went, one minute me paying out so many cards I was down to only two, and after a well timed Jack I was winning so many back I could hardly pick them up and add them to my pack quickly enough. We eventually got to a point where Simon had only three cards, and I played an ace. I groaned. Bound to be a queen or jack in those last three of his, I thought, and then he could likely bounce back.
Simon had no such luck. All three of his cards were padding. I'd won!
"Good game! Well done!" Simon said, and started gathering up his clothes, which he had strewn on the floor. "Hang about!" I protested. "You've just lost! Get 'em off!" "Not a lot of point, now the game's ended!" he claimed. "You win. I agree!" "Then what have I won?" I demanded, getting a bit nasty. "I'm down to the same kit as you! A good gambler pays his debts, and your debt is to strip off!"
"Look. We promised not to fall out. Next time we'd better agree some game rules before we start!" he shrugged, climbed onto his bed, and promptly crashed out! The absolute bounder!
I grabbed my sketch pad, and, still sulking over his refusal to play the game, started doodling. Suddenly I had an idea. I pulled the top sheet off the pad and started again. I would draw Simon, and choose my moment to embarrass him with it. Soon I was sketching away, and felt I had a reasonable likeness of his face. The body was easy - I had taken a few life classes, so his body was easy to draw, all being in full view except those parts covered by his slip. I mischievously ignored his underpants, and drew him as if nude. I just hoped I had got his prick right. I had no idea whether or not he was circumcised, and what size he really was. I took a chance, and guessed. I spared no detail. Then I put the finished work in one of my drawers, and crashed out on the bed myself.
To be continued .....