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I had been told that you can often meet interesting people on adult education literary courses. The seeds of my son-in-law’s divorce were sown at an Open University Summer School. But that’s another story.After an extensive trawl of the net, I’d found a week-long course on short story writing. The good news was that there were still vacancies and that it was located on the gloriously scenic Gower Peninsular. The bad news was that it was a quasi-religious set-up (early morning prayers, a silent vegan supper etc) in a former Baptist seminary. Quoting to myself the old gambler’s adage ‘In for a Penny’, I sent them a deposit and started planning my train trip to Wales.~ ~ ~ ~ ~“You don’t look like a Happy Clapper to me, boyo,” was my taxi driver’s droll observation as I paid for the trip from Swansea station.“How d’you mean?”He pocketed the tip and nodded knowingly over his shoulder. “Bloody fervent they are, that lot.”The piped electric organ hymnal wafting through reception, together with a strong smell of incense, made me wonder if I’d made a terrible mistake.”You must be Mr Edmonds!” a buxom old biddy in a flour-dusted apron barked as she appeared from the kitchens. “Sign here please. Supper is at six sharp. And, look you, no alcohol is permitted.” I signed her book as instructed. “She took a key from rack behind her. “Room 2B. Ground floor You’re in the beach annexe. Will you be wanting a daily paper?” I declined the offer and took my key. güvenilir bahis ‘What a good job I’ve brought my own booze’, I reflected.If the cook-manageress’ welcome was less than cordial, spacious Room 2B was an absolute delight: neatly furnished in several pale blue tones, with a huge double bed and an adjoining bathroom with a state-of-the-art shower. I popped the Gideon Bible into the bedside cupboard. The room’s big bonus was the panoramic view from my bedroom window of the golden sands of The Gower. In the foreground, 2B had the use of a small timber-slatted deck lined with plant pots, though I was alarmed to discover that the space was already occupied by a sunbather. It would seem that 2B shared the deck with another guest’s bedroom.My next-door neighbour (presumably also on this literary retreat) turned out to be a buxom, dark-skinned 40-something red-headed female in a faded blue denim bib-and-brace boiler suit. She wore crimson lipstick, crimson-painted finger and toenails. Her denim bib-flap was folded down to reveal two huge breasts, each surmounted by a silver nipple ring. In her ears, plugged into her scarlet iPhone, were a pair of red earphones.I quickly unpacked my few belongings, slipped into some shorts and a T-shirt and quietly let myself out onto the sun deck. As my bedroom door clicked closed, my neighbour opened one eye and simultaneously flipped the brace flap up to cover her boobs, giving me a welcoming smile. güvenilir bahis siteleri “Well, hello! I’m Carla.”“Pleased to meet you, Carla. I’m Simon. Are you here for the literary course?”“Yes. Got here this morning. You?”“Err, yes. But it’s only the short story writing I’m interested in. I need to hone my rusty skills up in that department as there’s an internet competition with a big prize that I want to enter.” I was dying to ask her to fold the top part of her boiler suit down again so that I could admire her glorious mammary display. “Pity about the ‘no booze’ rule,” I reflected.“Don’t give it a thought, sweetie,” she chuckled. “D’you fancy a dram?”“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘no’.” I glanced out to sea. “Even though the sun’s not quite over the yardarm. What’s on offer?”“Would Pimms be ok?”“It certainly would!”“Stay right there.” Slipping nimbly from her lounger she headed for her room, returning minutes later to present me with a bubbling tumbler of orange booze. Once again, her bib flap was hanging down, giving me a lovely close-up of her huge tits for the first time. They were magnificent. Her dark brown areolas were the size of small saucers. Seeing my wide-eyed glance, she asked: “So sorry, d’you mind? It’s just I hate bikini lines on titties.”“Mind? I can’t take my eyes off them. They’re magnificent!”She stroked one of the nipple rings. “Why thank you, kind sir. Cheers!”“Cheers!”Carla settled back onto her lounger, plugged iddaa siteleri her earphones back in and closed her eyes. I was more than happy to gaze at her beautiful breasts while stroking my hand across the bulge in my shorts. In the middle distance I could see the smooth amber sands being washed over by the incoming tide.~ ~ ~ ~ ~Carla and I shared a table at suppertime (an uninspiring Welsh vegetarian version of shepherd’s pie, followed by treacle tart with runny custard). We lingered over our milky coffees until the dining room was all but deserted. “Are you going to chance tomorrow morning’s opening session?” Carla asked.“Remind me what the theme is?”“’How the Bible has influenced modern short story writing’. It’s being given by a local vicar.” She gave a wry half-smile and tipped her head to one side quizzically.“Err… I think I’ll pass on that one.”“Me too. Fancy exploring the beach? The tide should be out and the forecast says it’s going to be hot. Maybe take a packed lunch?”“Mmmm… that sounds much more interesting and I’ll supply the booze.”“They do say…” her sentence tailed off as she nervously swivelled her empty coffee cup in the saucer.“Yes?”“Well… they do say that down the far end of the beach we can see from our deck, there’s a designated nudist beach called Whiteford Sands. Fancy walking down there to check it out?”“I’d love to.” I wanted to add: “Maybe I might get to see you in the altogether,” but only blushed.Carla ran a hand up my thigh and giggled. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I think I can read your mind. As a matter of fact, I’d quite like an excuse to get a good look at the tackle hidden in those shorts of yours! You show me yours and I’ll show you mine!”