A Virgin Brit On A Holiday: Part 2 The Busty Truckdriver in 1960s France. By Slowandeasy47. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. The bigger adventure now began. School finished and college not starting until October, two and a half months to find out as much as I could about life and have some serious fun. I had started my long break by visiting my Tante Marise in her French chateau. She had taught me a lot, and introduced me to the joys of assisted showering, a pleasure that I have enjoyed throughout my life. As a French lady, she saw my typical Brit uptightness about human sexuality, and helped me about as much as a proper relative is allowed to. Where to go next and what to do had been the two big questions. In the 1960s travel to far off lands was not really one of my options, so I decided to head for the beaches of the northern Spanish Mediterranian coast, commonly called the Riviera. Here I could live cheaply, enjoy the weather and get a proper sun tan. Travel by air, with a tour company, was way outside my budget, but a friend had given me his hints and tips for hitch hiking long distances and now, I was in northern France planning an 800 mile hitchhike to Barcelona, or actually anywhere nearby. Barcelona had the attraction of being in a straight line from my starting point at Tante Marise's and the direct route was via only two roads so, with a bit of luck maybe, just maybe, only one or two changes of lift. My first lift was a little disappointing as it didn't even get me to Paris but the driver was pleasant enough and chatty. I supposed that life on the road could be pretty lonely and he was enjoying the company. My next was more fruitful. It was a familiar-looking British lorry which pulled up with a hiss of airbrakes and the driver, being on the rightside door as all U K vehicles are situated; directed me round to the passenger side. To us Brits, everyone else was, of course, on the wrong side, now that we were in France. As the passenger door swung open a cheery female voice from the depths of the cab hailed me with, "Hop in sweetheart." I grabbed the handrail, put my foot on the step, and swung myself & my duffle in. "Where you off to then?" She enquired as I stowed my bag under my legs & settled myself into the seat. "Barcelona, or somewhere near there." I replied, taking stock of my new surroundings. My chauffeur was very obviously female, if the voice hadn't give her away the sight of her jiggly bust certainly did. She wore her bleached blond hair somewhat short, her tee-shirt somewhat tight around the rocking t**s, and faded denim cutoffs. I guessed she was about thirty and she had a cheeky impish grin. "So 'ow long you going for?" "I don't have to be back until October to start university classes." "Blimey, nice work if you can get it!" and she shot me a smile that formed alluring dimples on her cheeks. “Speaking of work,” I ventured a question.. “You’re the first female trucker I’ve ever encountered? How’s that working out?” “My pop owns the truckline, so when they had a driver shortage, I made my pitch and showed him how well I handle a rig.” “How’d you learn?” I asked. “Most of my teen years were spent working the weekend freight dock, and on the slow shifts I’d practice driving when no one was around.” She explained. The next several hundred kilometers passed in getting to know each other. Gilly was her name. She loved life on the road, often did the same runs up and down through France, knew all the best stops and frequently picked up hitchhikers for the chat and to pass the hours. "So off for the three-S holiday are we?" "The three S?" I said quizzically. "Yep, the three S. Do you know you can tell someone’s age by their three esses?" "Sorry, I'm not with you." "Right I'll tell you, you just complete the third S with the first thing that comes into your head, OK?" "OK!" "Sun, sea and?" "Sand!" This reply was met with about the dirtiest sounding laugh I have ever heard in my life! "OK, you're about eight years old! Sun sea and sand!" More laughter, "Let's try again. Sun, sea and?" "Sangria?" "Getting better, much better, but still not there. One more try." I am now getting nervous. The only other S I can think of is sex and I was certainly not going to say that out loud to this lady I'd only just met. She's good company and I don't want to get put out in the middle of nowhere. "Sun sea and?" Came the question again. My mind was racing for an escape route and I suddenly found it. "How many letters?" She took one hand off the wheel and started turning her fingers down one by one as she counted. "Eight." Phew, so it wasn't sex. You cannot believe how relieved I was that I hadn't said it, but eight? I racked my brains, but even sangria was only seven. "I Give up." I admitted. Her reply stunned my into silence. I could hardly believe my ears. "Shagging! Shagging of course. Sun, sea, and shagging. Isn't that why all you students head for the Costas?" My week mumblings were incoherent and never meant to be heard anyway. Gilly, with the ashen blond hair, tight T shirt and filthy laugh had just said 'Shagging'! "Come on now." She said placing one hand on my knee for a few seconds and flashing me her beguiling smile, dimples and all. "Don't tell me I'm wrong.” "Look, I bet you a quid that I'd find johnnies in your ruck sack? But I'm not giving you the quid unless you let me check. There are johnnies in your pack aren't there?" This was getting out of hand. This busty & fit lady had just put her hand on my knee, flashed me a smile and boxed me into a corner. "You win." I said reluctantly. "Knew it. Sun, sea and shagging! Well a good looking lad like you shouldn't have much trouble feasting on the roast chicken beaches." Again, the smile with the dimples. "Roast chicken beaches?" I wanted to know what she meant but didn't want to appear as naive as I was. "Yea, you know. All those bikini-clad girls sunbathing all day and, like a roast chicken, yet all the best bits are white!" Another pat on the knee accompanied by a chortle or two of that dirty laugh. "That is unless you go to Playa Mar Bella, where every one is the same colour all over because they don't wear anything." I am now having trouble controlling the cinema in my head. Nudist beaches, I hadn't even thought about that. I had only ever seen one naked woman in my life and the pictures floating through my mind were starting to cause problems in my trousers. On a nudist beach I would certainly get an erection and what to do then? "I think I'd better stick to normal beaches." I muttered weakly. "Not sure you could cope with all those naked bums and t**s, eh? I have to say it's a bit of a surprise the first time." The first time? Is Gilly telling me she goes to nudist beaches? Displays those magnificent t**s to the world, not to mention her p***y. Shit, I must stop thinking about Gilly naked, it's getting difficult. A few more miles rolled past. "OK, time for a game of Truth or Dare. Obviously the dares are going to be limited but if you don't want to answer you just pay a forfeit. You start." I can only remember the key questions. We started off simply enough just asking slightly more probing questions than you would in normal conversation when she asked me. "Truth or dare?" "Truth." "What's the most embarrassing moment of your life?" Shit! I thought. "Do I have to answer." "Of course, that's the game, unless you want to pay a forfeit and my forfeits are quite challenging." "Well, a couple of years ago I barged in to my parent's bedroom. They were both naked, on top of the bed and 'doing it'." The dirty laugh just got dirtier, "I bet that put them off their stride. Shit, embarrassing all round. OK, your turn, I'll go for truth." "What body part are you most proud of?" Expecting an evasive answer. "My t**s of course! Aren't they great? You've hardly taken your eyes off them for the last hundred miles. My turn. Where did you loose your virginity." "Um, er, well, er......" "Are you trying to say it hasn't happened yet?" "Er yes." "Jeepers, cooped up in a cab for hundreds of miles with a virgin. No wonder you can't take your eyes of my t**s! Your go." "How old were you when you first had sex?" "Oh that's easy. Old enough to know better, young enough not to care!" More dirty laughter, "It was at my birthday party, the night I became 'old enough to know better'. There was a boy I'd fancied for ages, we'd snogged before, but I took him up to my room. My turn. If you were a girl for a day what would you do?" I was getting much more comfortable with the company of this wonderful woman. She was so open and seemed so worldly wise. Before I could really think of the answer my mouth said. "Find a nice boy and take him up to my room." "Great answer! He was fun, but very inexperienced. It didn't last long. He got the Johnny on, put it in, moved up and down a couple of times and made a noise that left me in no doubt that it was all over. Not exactly the Karma Sutra but it got the job done." I can hardly believe my ears. This woman had just described her first sexual experience to me without batting an eye lid. The sixties were definitely a liberating decade. Then we pulled off the road to a Routier. Parked up in a diagonal line with lots of other lorries. "That's it for today. Let's eat." We walked over to the building and as I followed her I couldn't help but notice how the tight denim cutoff shorts clung to her very alluring bum, which wobbled in a truly delightful way. Her trucker’s wallet flapped around, protruding from her right butt pocket. They served delicious food, at a fixed price, with a glass of wine and I noticed with relief that they also had rooms also at very reasonable prices. After the meal I got up and walked towards reception. "
