3-pack of tales from band camp...
Several times during my formative teenage years, I attended band camp. Well, I say band camp. I used to attend a music school in my local area, a couple of evenings a week. We were quite good, and in the summer we used to go on tour somewhere hot.

These tours were the highlight of my (barren) social calendar, a week of music making, drinking and frolicking in the sun. Bliss. There were also several incidents of accidental nudity.

Scene the first. We have just arrived on tour. All is woo and excitement. We are just unpacking in the room, and I am in the bathroom, showering off the 28-hour coach ride it has taken us to get there. I am just finishing off my toiletary excursion with the mother of all pisses (still naked, but politely into the loo). And of course, the door opens. Not to reveal my laughing room-mates, but a very nice young lady, also from the music tour (an oboist, indeed), who has come to our room to 'see how they compare'. Well, unless your bathroom comes replete with a slightly damp, tubby naked man, they aren't too similar.

Credit to this nice young lady, she did try and make up for barging in on me by risking the wrath of the trades descriptions people, and trying to spread the rumour that I was possessed of a particularly oversized weapon, in order to attract me some lady loving. Unsuccessful.

Scene the second, and the nudity situation is reversed. This may have even been the same music school tour. I am in the sea, waist-deep, gently ogling the young ladies. I am not wearing my glasses, so my ogling is rather limited, and not very successful. Until, a nice young lady (different to the nice young lady in act 1, a flute player) decides to swim up for a chat. We are talking away about nothing in particular, when I decide to steal a glance at her chest. One of her delightful ladynipples has escaped from it's bikini-cladding.

Instantly, several thoughts run through my head.
1, This is brilliant, wow, but what if she notices? She's definitely going to put it away, and I am going to be in trouble.
2, I am glad the cool of the water is doing well to hide my shame, but it's not going to be good enough forever.
3, Should I tell her? I should probably tell her. She's going to be angry if she finds out what's happening.

Unfortunately, not managing to pay enough attention to voice number 3, I missed the window of information, and ended up continuing the conversation for several more minutes. My reverie was only broken when somebody else swam up, and informed the nice young lady of her nipply predicament. Understandably, our conversation (for the rest of the tour, and pretty much ever since) was very much over.

Scene the third. The last day of any music school tour was, generally, a day of rest before getting on the coaches to return. One tradition, however, was to hold a miss-world contest. Each contestant would be allowed a day before to beg, steal or borrow the clothing, and an hour beforehand with a 'dresser' to do hair and makeup, before a full-on beauty pageant. The only twist was that it was only open to blokes to enter, and the main rule was that you were not allowed to wear any clothing that had been designed to be worn by a bloke.

This alcohol fueled affair was pretty tasteless at the best of times, but the year I was a participant was spectacular on many levels. I may add a picture in the replies, which will give you some idea of the horror, but the display of inexpertly-shaven man-flesh is one my mind has never let me recall fully, for which I can be very thankful. One particular moment, however, does remain with me. The basic issue with lady costumery on a gentleman is that a lady-gusset is nowhere near as accommodating as a man-gusset. Thus the space available for wedding vegetables is ever-so-slightly compromised and uncomfortable.

Now, combine this discomfort with a hot day, a large quantity of alcohol, and a distinct lack of inhibition, and the scene culminates with me looking over to see one of my fellow participants (not in the photograph, as he managed to pass out very shortly after) adjusting himself by use of the ever-popular 'hook-your-thumbs-in-the-sides-and-pull-the-crotch-out" in the manner of a music-hall star adjusting his braces. He was much comfier, but none of our eyes were.

Lovely.

Length? A variety, but none as impressive as we would have liked...
(Serotonicity was a naughty boy on..., Fri 29 May 2009, 15:12, 6 replies)

Not from...
Harrow by any chance are you?
(cypherspace is not a toaster, Fri 29 May 2009, 17:16, closed)

Yup.
I am indeed.
(Serotonicity was a naughty boy on..., Fri 29 May 2009, 20:04, closed)

I'm not going to tell you which one's me...

(Serotonicity was a naughty boy on..., Fri 29 May 2009, 20:07, closed)

I'm guessing
Far right.
( MatJ LOOK, Sat 30 May 2009, 18:43, closed)

I'm guessing purple dress
Or maybe the red one.
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Tue 2 Jun 2009, 6:35, closed)

The one in the blue shorts
It has to be
(RVD420 has his world coming down on, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 17:54, closed)