Trip to the Worlds Fair – 1958, Part 1

In June of 1958, right after classes let out for the year, my parents announced that they were going to the Worlds Fair in Brussels, Belgium.  By that time I was a pretty good photographer if I do say so myself.  I lobbied long and hard to be allowed to go with them.  I had seen all the hype in the newspapers and listened to everyone who had gone to see it and just had to go myself. After all, I was sixteen now.

They relented and changed their announcement to read:  ‘plus son’.  My brother and sisters complained but they were unmoved by their cries.  I tried hard not to smirk, but it was very hard not to as I packed for the trip.

They had decided right from the first that it would be a camping trip.  Camping nowadays brings to mind all the ‘must have’ stuff that campers drag along with them to “get away from it all”.  Camping in the ‘50s was much simpler – a few clothes, a swimsuit, a cooking kit, you sleeping bags, and that’s about it.

My dad had, earlier that year, bought a very nice Volkswagen Deluxe bus; the large, square, black over red bus with the porthole windows along the roofline bus.  It was ideal for our trip.  We loaded everything up, filled it with gas, and took off one fine morning for Belgium.

My dad had the foresight to book a camp spot at three different sites just to be sure and they were definitely needed.  The trip took over four hours because the roads were terrible.  It seemed as if every place we went through had their portion under construction.  Long waits while it seemed as if each and every cobblestone was placed by hand and tamped down.

The first place didn’t even have a record of our reservation which didn’t help my dad’s disposition at all.  He can be a bit impatient.  The second had our reservation, but the only few spots left were gathered around about twenty portable potties and, as you can imagine, the flies (and smells) were thick.  The third was on a road that I well never forget: Loonbeek Straat.  Even now, rolling that one off my tongue brings a smile to my face.  Loonbeek, what’s not to love?

We must have arrived right after it opened because there were relatively few campers and what there were had spread out a bit.  Camping in Europe is not quite like camping in the States.  The term ‘close together’ in Europe means that when you sneeze in your tent, your neighbor to the right says “Gesundheit”.  If you break wind, your other neighbor says “Oy, mate.  Aim it the other way, eh”.  In any case, we slid in next to a very nice camper and a rather large, three-room tent.  When finally set up, we strung out our obligatory line with all the flags of countries we had camped in.  This was a tradition among European campers and would allow them to stroll by and visit.  Your own personal country flag was nearest the top of the string; in our case, the US flag.

A rather large lake glistened through the trees so I donned my trunks and told my parents I was off to the lake.  I was warned though to be back for dinner at five.  About halfway there, I caught up with a gaggle of kids about my age and joined them.  There were around ten of us and I guess we only had German and French as a common among us.  We were quite a mix of nationalities.  I was the only American.

We settled down on the shore of the beach and the girls took off for the water while we guys watched the girls taking off for the water.  The bikini, having been introduced a few years back to Europe, had taken the younger crowd by storm.  There were many different styles and all of them added up to a real eyeful in most cases.  There were, of course, some persons who just shouldn’t have tried to wear one, but all in all, we ogled the good looking ones.

For most of the afternoon we rested on the sand, splashed in the water, and dunked girls.  They, on the other hand, shrieked their ‘displeasure’ and splashed us back.  A good time was had by all involved.  In what seemed a short time, it was nearing five and I had to head back.  Two of the guys and three girls walked back with me.

To my surprise, one of the girls walked all the way back to my tent – or almost to my tent.  It seemed she was in one of the rooms of the three-room tent next to us.  Oh, how lucky could one guy be?

My parents had left me a note stating that they were down at the social pavilion and to come on down when I got back. I went into my tent and changed back to shorts and a tee shirt while listening to her chatter with another girl.  I didn’t speak French very well, but I got the gist of it enough to think that the other girl was her sister.  Older or younger, I didn’t know which but it sure sounded interesting.

I had learned earlier that one of them, the blonde, was named Arianne.  I was soon to find out that the other one was indeed her younger sister Colombe. As I emerged from my tent, they both popped out of theirs and Arianne introduced me to her.  Arianne, I knew, was eighteen so I estimated that her sister was about sixteen or very close to it which was a very nice happenstance as it were.  She had very dark, almost black, hair and was superbly assembled in every way.  She tended to giggle a lot, but I was prepared to overlook that purely to be a nice guy.  Right.

Their parents had left them a note with a bit more information than mine: they had met my parents and the four of them were down at the pavilion waiting for us.  At that, we started out walking in that general direction. Colombe grabbed my hand and brought it closer to her face to examine the ring I had on my finger.  It was my birthstone, a square cut ruby, and was set in heavy silver.  She found it fascinating and, after examination, just never let go of my hand.  Well, I’ll be doggoned, I thought.  Things were definitely looking up.

After a satisfying, but very expensive, supper of brats and sauerkraut, the adults decided to go schmoozing with several other couples in one of the bars.  While there were no laws against “underage” people in bars, we younger ones had other ideas.  One of them was to head for the small carnival midway and see what that was like, or we could hang out at a large campfire being set up at the pavilion.  Colombe and I headed for the campfire to get a good seat.

Since I was the one with limited French and she was one of the non-English speakers our common language was German.  It must have sounded strange to others to have an obvious American and a very French-looking girl speaking German but we got along quite well.  After searching for a nice log to lean our shoulders on, we settled down to just chat.

She was from a village near Orleans, which was Southwest of Paris, named Saran.  She lived on a farm and her family had been there for many generations.  She had her own horse and went out riding almost every day.  I envied her that because I loved to go riding but didn’t have much of a chance to do so except when I went to my good friend Wolf and Hilde’s farm.  We continued to chat for a while.

She told me she was slightly chilled and asked if I would go back to the camp and grab a blanket.  The ground was getting cool to me as the sun set so this sounded like a great idea.  Off I went.  When I got there, her sister was there and told me that both her parents and mine were going into Brussels to take in a cabaret show.  They wouldn’t be back for hours.  Okay, this was good news too.

I grabbed a couple of blankets, a bag of pretzel snacks, and two bottles of the local soda to drink, and headed back to the fire.  By now, they had a small blaze going in the fire ring which Colombe and I could feel on our faces.  I fluffed a blanket, laid it under us on the ground, and motioned her onto it.  When we were both resting with our backs on the log, I threw the other one over us.

She scooted over so close to me that our hips were touching and dropped her head onto my shoulder.  I’m thinking ‘this is cool’ as I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.  Now, I thought me and my body had an understanding:  I wouldn’t do anything to hurt it, and it wouldn’t do anything to embarrass me.  This was not the case as the proximity of a nice warm girl caused an involuntary reaction which threatened to cause trouble.

I tried desperately to contain myself, but it was too strong and I had to surreptitiously reach under the cover to make ‘adjustments’.  Colombe snickered, stuck her tongue into my ear, and asked if she could help.  This, if I have to say it, really got my attention.  Without waiting for my answer she reached under the covers also and straightened things out – literally.  With everything again smoothed out, she simply left her hand where it was while we talked some more.  I was soon fully expanded under her ministrations so she gave me a little squeeze and said ‘wunderbar’.

I really don’t remember what we chatted about as my entire attention was on what she was doing with her hand.  I glanced around but no one nearby was taking the slightest notice of what we were about.  In fact, some of them nearby seemed to be even more active and we were.  I could tell it was going to be a really tough evening on my libido.

She rolled even more towards me, pulled on my shoulder to turn me towards her, and led my hand over to her breasts.  Somehow, she had pulled up her sweater so I would have clear access to both of them.  We settled down in that manner simply staring into each other’s eyes.  With no change in either of our positions, or her expression, she reached down with her free hand, unzipped my pants, reached in and ran her fingers over what she had found.  My expression, however, was one of deep surprise but I masked it well.

This emboldened me enough to try some solo flying myself so I reached out and found the hem of her skirt, lifted it, and slid my hand under it.  She began humming to herself as I stroked the front of her panties and she continued her stroking inside my pants.

Before things got really out of hand, so to speak, the master of ceremonies jumped up and began to get the crowd warmed up for the night’s festivities.  The first item was a group sing.  Since it was in French, I hummed along but didn’t have a clue as to what it was about.  Colombe gave me a running translation as we sang.

The blanket remained thrown over us from the neck down as before but she had rolled back away from me and we both sat up – leaning against the log.  Her hand still held me and would occasionally move sensuously a couple of strokes; I returned the favor from time to time.  We followed the evening’s program fairly well until it was time to break up and put the fire out.  I glanced at my watch and was surprised to find that two hours had elapsed.  I also suddenly realized that she had kept my erection alive on and off for almost the whole time.  She hardly ever let it get away from her.

When the fire was finally put out, we reluctantly buttoned, zipped, and otherwise made ourselves presentable.  As we stood, she leaned close to me, put her arms around my back, and whispered in my ear that she would like to find somewhere romantic to go.  I was all for it but didn’t have a clue as to where we could go.  She had been at the campground a couple of days longer than me so she suggested we walk down to the lake.

When our night vision had finally arrived we walked with confidence along the shore trail.  It seemed as if every small path down towards the lake had some sort sound or movement coming from it.  Apparently, a lot of other people had the same idea.  It was almost embarrassing to listen to it as we passed.  Colombe remarked on this in a matter-of-fact tone as ‘having fun’.  Yeah, what fun!

After trekking almost halfway around the lake we finally found a little trail that didn’t appear to be taken.  I followed her closely as she broke trail for the both of us.  We arrived on a very small chunk of shoreline surrounded by tall, thick, bushes.  The only lights we could see were far across the lake.  To our left we could hear giggles and an occasional deeper voice.  This was punctuated by the snap of elastic and, shortly, a sigh of pleasure.  We were definitely on lover’s row all right.

I again flapped out the blanket so we could take off our shoes and stand on it.  She moved closer and began lifting my shirt over my head.  I did the same to her and those marvelous breasts sprang into view in the dim light.  I kissed first one and then the other and felt her nipples harden in the process.  She reached down to her waist, pushed her short dress down, and stepped out of it.  She motioned for me to do the same so I unbuckled my belt, unzipped, and dropped my pants to the blanket too.

We knelt down, knee to knee, and put our arms around each other.  She pulled me tight to her breasts and kissed me deeply with a little tongue thrown in.  It was a true French kiss I remember thinking as I responded.  I had also responded elsewhere again as I knew I would.  She found that next and proceeded to slide my shorts down and put her hands on it.  Not to be outdone, I reached over and did the same to her panties.

With a minimum of fuss, we both got rid of all the clothing we had and lay down on the blanket and threw the other over us.  As we rolled together it was that very moment I suddenly realized I didn’t have any protection at all; nothing.  Oh no, this was going to end in disaster I thought as I fessed up and told her.

She looked at me a moment, held up one finger, reached back for her small bag, fumbled inside for a bit, and triumphantly held up a foil packet.  I was saved!  “Viola!” she whispered.  She took charge right then by pushing me on my back and fitting the condom snugly over me.  Once that was accomplished, she startled me by throwing a leg over my hips and lowering herself downward and held me inside her.

That’s all it took to get me completely fired up.  I pulled her down to my chest as she began working her hips to get herself settled.  She dropped her head into the hollow of my neck and we began our dance.  We murmured into each others ear as we progressed.  I was overwhelmed by the warmth of her core and could actually feel her getting warmer until I felt the beginnings of what would be one of my truly great orgasms.

I tried to hold off and, to some extent I think I managed yet another few minutes, but was pushed over the edge by her sitting up, pushing down hard against my hips, closing her eyes and hissing deeply as her orgasm overcame us both.  We held tightly to each other as our emotions took over and put us on autopilot.  My hips jumped upwards to meet hers coming down.  If we bruised each other I didn’t notice it at all.

When we finally broke apart, she rolled to her back and exhaled deeply.  All she said was ‘I needed that – very much’.  When I asked her what she meant she explained that her boyfriend had left her four months ago and she hadn’t been with anyone since that time.   I realized at that moment that she was just really using me, but, I figured ‘what the hell’.  She needed some release and this surely didn’t affect me at all since I would probably never see her again.  It certainly wasn’t going to hurt me at all either.

I kissed her and said that whatever her reasons were, I was grateful for the moment.  She brightened with a smile and put her hand on my cheek to pull me closer.  She kissed me deeply again and sat up.  Then she said we didn’t need this any more and pulled the condom off and grubbed a small hole in the sand under a bush to bury it.  I thought idly that it was a wonder she didn’t dig up two more doing that seeing as how this part of the lake seemed to get heavy use all night.

She shivered a little so I threw the other blanket back over us to keep warm.  Once we warmed up, we both decided that we’d better get back to the campground before our parents came home.  Reluctantly we dressed, shook the sand out of the blankets and headed back out the narrow path towards the lakefront walk.  Arm in arm we slowly strolled back to camp.



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