Episode Details

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 tits, 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 universi