I hate festivals.
I hate the toilet arrangements.
I hate the general assumption that because it is a festival then we should all resort to eating burgers and other greasy crap and generate a huge profit for the entrepreneurs concerned as well as great piles of rubbish from discarded wrappings.
I hate that because it is a festival then it is commonly accepted that you should get paralytic on cheap lager (sold to you, again, at great profit to someone with great foresight) to the point of unconsciousness whilst lying in the mud, in a field, in the rain, as a rock band blasts really loud music at you, for several days at a time.
I hate that you are corralled together without the opportunity to leave the site; I understand that this prevents people from sneaking in and helps vendors on the site with sales of their vastly overpriced goods, but it still annoyed me.
So why was I at a festival, penned in like a convicted criminal, with thousands of others?
Josie had insisted that I come with her, and her blonde friend Tish, to this arts and music festival, to assist them on their artsy stall as part of the children’s play area attractions. The two girls were offering face painting opportunities and I was to act as their body guard and general assistant, – fetching food and drink for them, more paints from our van or just keeping the queue in order. But I knew that my invitation would not be reduced to just being their lackey – I knew Josie too well for that.
On the first evening, after closing our stall at around 5pm, we returned to our van and tent and relaxed. Josie was dressed in an outfit seemingly designed to gather the full interest of visiting fathers to our stall: torn off high above her thigh, low cut but tight hipster jeans, which showed off lots of her delectable buttocks, and a ripped singlet which came down to just below her ribs, showing off her trim stomach and hips, and seemed to offer the opportunity of a flash of breast from the sides, if she held her arm up, or when she leaned forward and the neck gaped.
Tish was similarly attired in multi coloured leggings that had been cut off at mid thigh, and a skin-tight, plain white t-shirt without a bra. (I had started off the day in shorts and a band t-shirt, but the shirt had come off fairly quickly – something that had greatly annoyed the girls since they were unable to go topless!)
From her seat beside the van Josie gave a little cheer and grinned mischievously as she looked up from her phone. ‘We have a date at 9pm – just need to sort out konyaaltı üniversiteli escort what to wear now…’
My heart missed a beat.
I had slowly become accustomed to the sort of things that Josie considered a date to be, and with the festival site being as it was (i.e. closed off, with us effectively held captive) wondered to myself if this was going to be another of her confidence boosting adventures. Going away to university had immersed her into a much wider world which, at the age of twenty years old, had knocked her own belief in herself – for a start, she discovered that the entire world did not revolve solely about her.
On returning home during a term break she had broken down to me about finding out that she was just a tiny fish in a huge ocean of a pond. In my role as her rock (solid and dependable, yet quiet and prone to being dragged into her fantastic schemes) we had sorted out a way she could rebuild her confidence and élan, so that she could become the legend at university that she had always believed she would be.
The girls disappeared into the tent to discuss their outfits, and I cooked our dinner on the portable grill. I figured that, either way, my role would be purely as muscle…
Dinner was pasta in a spicy tomato sauce brought from home, and neither of them let me in on their newly formulated plan as we ate, preferring to give each other sly glances which usually turned into fits of giggles. I chose to ignore them, I would learn soon enough.
By 7.30pm I was much enlightened.
Josie was standing, naked, in the tent and being painted by Tish. Once again I was positioned to film what was happening on my phone. Tish was painting a pair of jeans onto the little redheads lower body, with the legs ending mid thigh, and her upper body would be disguised by a painted t-shirt in baby blue.
When she was finished Josie took her turn painting her friend in a similar colour scheme. Watching the girl cheerfully brushing body paint between the cheeks of her friends arse was really screwing with my mind, though… I liked Tish; she was slightly taller than Josie and had a little more meat on her bones, although I hadn’t discovered whether she was a genuine blonde or assisted by a bottle. Now seeing her totally naked still didn’t answer my question.
As the sun started to sink toward the horizon both girls started checking each other for smears and making sure they looked convincing. I had to admit that unless I was up close to them kurtköy escort their artwork was good enough that it wouldn’t give away the fact that, other than their footwear, both were as naked as the day they were born.
‘How do we look?’ Josie was swinging her hips, twisting her upper body, standing with her hands behind her head, thrusting her chest out.
I gulped in air, blinking rapidly in case the vision before me was a mere figment of my imagination. ‘Boring.’ A frown clouded her face. ‘And suddenly I twig that you don’t have a stitch on, either of you, and then I have to start reciting figures of pi in my mind.’ That made her grin like a bitch, Tish as well.
Now both girls practised their day-to-day art, painting each others face. The idea was that it would make identifying them that much more difficult, should anyone take a picture or if there was a run in with security or the police.
Tish had her face quartered, painted yellow and blue in opposing squares, and Josie’s face was painted in rainbow colours that dropped diagonally from above her right eye and was wrapped around the exposed skin (as in not painted already) until it disappeared beneath her painted shirt.
The girls walked about around our camp, attracting admiring glances from other stall holders who were pitched around us. As I watched I wondered how many of those observers realised that these two pretty girls were actually naked…
Shortly we set off to our 9pm date.
Josie wouldn’t tell me what was planned and I didn’t want to go online and cheat my way to this knowledge, so I just tailed along behind them and filmed as they meandered across the festival site to wherever their date was located.
With dusk starting to make a difference to the mood we arrived at the site of the date: I knew this was the location because Josie gave the gave away, grinning at me as she said ‘we’re here’.
There was a signpost with about ten finger pointers fixed to it, showing what else was to be seen, and around a dozen partially drunk male revellers who appeared to have been thirstily waiting for the girls to turn up.
‘Hiya boys!’ Josie high fived a few of them, and I reappraised my assumption of just how drunk I thought they were when most of them couldn’t display the hand/eye coordination needed to connect the slap.
‘Are you ready to do what you promised?’
I was confused, not knowing what they had promised to do for Josie and Tish, but they seemed to assure her that ankara kurtuluş escort they were ready. Both the girls lay down on the grass near the signpost, surrounded by the merry drinkers who then proceeded to unzip themselves and extract their penises – except for the one woman in the group who pulled up her skirt, dropped her panties and then promptly fell over, such was the state of her inebriation.
‘Go on then!’ Josie had urged them on, and the men all started to urinate on the reclining pair.
I was shocked.
I hadn’t been ready to see the girls being pissed on, I hadn’t even entertained such a realisation until they had started dragging their cocks out. I couldn’t believe that the girls were letting themselves be degraded like this – but I carried on filming the event, just the same.
Both girls appeared to be suffering from a deliberate misogyny, their faces being almost exclusively targeted by the streams of pee; they lay with their eyes and mouths tightly closed, waiting until the last dribbles trickled over them. As they were sitting up the fallen woman managed to stand up, so both girls started kissing, rolling in the grass between the drunken female’s legs as she too emptied her bladder.
Finally they were allowed to stand up, to cheers from the original crowd and some interested passers by who had joined the party too late to take part.
The body paint was mainly intact, except on their faces where the colours had mainly run, merging in places or been washed away in others.
The drunks made enthusiastic noises about doing the same thing tomorrow night, which worried me since Josie liked to be quirky and unpredictable, but I was relieved when my little sister just laughed and said she couldn’t make any promises, so they should keep their eyes on her website.
As we made our way back to the camp I wondered how the girls were going to clean themselves up – trying to paint kiddies faces whilst stinking of stale urine on a hot summers day would be one definition of a nightmare – but we came across a fresh water tap with enough room beneath its spout for them to crouch low enough to clean most of their bodies, and using a discarded bottle we were able to rinse their hair and faces with cold but clean water.
Both girls trotted back to our tent totally naked – fortunately it was dark and those people we did encounter were too shocked to be anything but confused at having a pair of wet, nude girls running past them.
I was supposed to sleep in the van (the girls were to have bedded down in the tent, that was the original plan) but since they were cold and still excited we snuggled down together in one big sleeping bag in the tent, with the occasional giggle, some contented purring and even a little groaning mixed in with the heavy breathing.
‘What,’ I asked Josie, at a convenient pause in the fun, ‘have you got planned for tomorrow night…?’