Ginny Reynolds, the seventeen-year-old heroine of The Camp Girl by Frank Anvic, discovers a new threshold of real life when she goes to a summer camp in the mountains. She is an innocent when she arrives, but an overwhelming series of events soon involve her in sexual discoveries that change the direction of her life forever.
Ginny's parents, Gilbert and Priscilla Reynolds, are sufficiently well-to-do to be able to devote most of their time to world travelling, and they have diverted a minimum of their interest from pleasure-seeking to the upbringing of their only daughter. As the story opens, Ginny is a naive but voluptuous girl who has led a rather sheltered life in religious schools.
Ginny has begged her parents to let her go to the summer camp with her best friend, Andrea Cornwell, a girl only a year older but considerably more sophisticated. Her father has given in to her request only because Andrea is the daughter of his closest friend and most valued business associate. Her mother, in turn, has consented only after she has investigated the camp, checked all of its references, and found everything about it to be entirely in keeping with the family's so-called station in life.
Ginny, although intelligent, is only vaguely aware of all these motivating forces. All her life, as an only child, she has been protected from life. She knows that Andrea has her own car, goes on dates with practically any boy she chooses, and does the kind of things that Ginny herself can only dream about. With her, it has always been a case of the right school, the right friends, the right hours, the approved dances and always with utterly dependable chaperones. Ginny wants to be free, happy, and unfettered-like Andrea.
But what does such a girl find, in cold hard actuality, at a summer camp?
For a partial answer, we might consider the experiences of Ellen Bilgore, a freelance writer who specializes in studies of the youth culture. In a recent survey conducted for The Saturday Review of Education, Ms. Bilgore presented the following interesting findings:
"Camping is a uniquely American institution. The germ of the idea is probably directly attributable to the drama and romance that pioneering has always had for the people in this country. In fact, the birth of camping in roughly 1900 postdates the closing of the frontier in 1890 by only ten years.
"The modern result is a kaleidoscope melange of summer camps for children, ranging from the original man-against-the-wilderness concept to kiddie country clubs; places to learn Romanian, Russian, or Greek; dance camps; riding camps; ice hockey, basketball, and football camps; farm camps; and others even more varied and eccentric. Of course, camps, like schools, do more than provide summer education; they establish very clear patterns of class stratification. There are ritzy rich-kid places, middle-middle, lower-middle, lower-upper, and just plain no-income camps....
"What actually happens to children in their summertime civilizations? Do they learn anything? Or could they achieve the same ends by having fresh-air respirators wheeled into their bedrooms at home?
"What they're supposed to be doing is developing character and skills. Camp directors never tire of talking about their development of the 'whole child.'....
"Now that many schools have begun to pursue more seriously the notion of developing the 'whole child' by extending learning experiences beyond the classroom walls, camp directors and school people are coming into sharp conflict. There is even a national coalition of camp directors who have vowed to fight the trend toward year-round school on the grounds that it would lead to the demise of camping.
"If schools continue to reexamine their basic goals and provide more experience in the 'real' world, this conflict can only grow sharper. But schools will probably never be able to develop a substitute for one of the basics of the camp experience: the opportunity for a child to find out what he or she is like as a person, reflected in the eyes of his peers rather than his parents. And then there's always the fresh air."
As mentioned above, this is, of necessity, only a partial answer. Ms. Bilgore has studied summer camps as an impartial, objective observer, but her experience has necessarily been limited. Frank Anvic, author of The Camp Girl, has worked in various capacities, from swimming instructor to director, in summer camps every year for the past decade and a half. We know he is capable of letting in the "fresh air" in more than one sense. And we know he is more capable than anyone else of telling the story of a girl like Ginny Reynolds.
Lest anyone be misled, we will state at the outset that the main thing Ginny learns about at Camp Wood Dell is sex. Sex, obviously, is not one of the things any summer camp for young girls advertises, but it is one of the things a girl is likely to encounter for the first time at such an institution.
Ginny Reynolds, indeed, finds out what she is like as a sexual person in this sometimes shocking but always enlightening novel. It is a novel that every married couple with female children should read and discuss frankly; it is a novel for anyone who wants a clearer picture of a facet of today's society that is too frequently taken for granted to learn important lessons from.
-The Publishers Chatsworth, Cal. March, 1973
PROLOGUE
"Wheeeeeee!"
"Hey, Mark, give me some of that!"
"That's the plan, baby," he said, his blue eyes flash lit behind dark lashes.
Bev Hunt was nearly creaming over the bar stool, she wanted it so bad, and Fran Charkowski was coming on like a truckload of turkeys. The pungent reek of grass permeated the room on De Longpre Street where Mark Grant got his seldom mail.
Mark was doing a wild gyrating dance to a Led Zephlin mover and when he bucked his tight, pants displayed his considerable bulge to advantage. He liked to brag about that, saying that "Tom Jones pays me a few grand a year just to stay out of sight," and that's what the dark-haired slink named Bev was talking about when she said, "Hey, Mark, give me some of that."
He had it to give, solid.
Bev had a mini skirt that wouldn't quit. As she sat on the tall bar stool, the fabric slid up enough so that Mark could see her black panties. Her thighs seemed to be sculpted as an invitation for him alone, her hips like an enclosure, waiting.
Fran was moving in counterpoint to Mark, and her miniskirt of imitation leather was crawling up her thighs like a curtain opening on some wild kind of show. Her honey hair was askew over her heart-shaped face, but Mark could see full lips pouting red in concentration. He didn't have to fake the bulge in his pants.
"Far out," said Bev, moving her well-turned ass on the bar stool, her legs dangling like a Siamese welcoming committee clad in black silk.
"Mmmmm," said Fran, thrusting her hips at Mark to the hot beat of the bass guitar.
Mark was in a sensuous world of his own, caught up in the rhythm, the heady atmosphere of the Zep and the grass, his own manhood spurred on by the girls. There were others in the room, but they were engrossed in worlds of their own. Hank and Jane were tonguing each other's throat in a far corner and a spade chick Mark invited was grooving with a young stud who had never had his first piece of ass. It was that kind of party; a farewell party, with no limit on any thing. It was Mark's last night out on the town. A kiss-off to L.A. and the square steady life. For a while. Nearly three months.
"Where you going again, Mark?" asked Bev who wanted to tear him away from his dance with Fran.
"To the hills, baby," he breathed, pushing his hips at Fran. "Up in the boonies."
Bev's laugh crackled like ice cubes in her glass of Scotch and water.
"What d'ya wanta go up there for with a bunch of kids?" asked Fran. She seemed ready to attack the blond man she was dancing with. Mark smiled at her and brushed back his bleached hair. Fran was his people. He used the name Grant, but she knew him as Grabowski, almost a cousin in the Pole way of looking at such things.
"It's a living, and it's summer in a groovy place," he laughed.
The record ran out and they both zigged to the bar where they zagged stools around Bev. The girl couldn't help herself; she ran the palm of her hand over the smooth contours of his bulge and pressed against the half-hardness. "You could do just as well here," she soothed, her voice like some kind of dark velvet.
Mark shook his long blond hair back and smoothed it, reached for his half-finished drink. "Yeah, I could stay here, but it's not part of the plan, Bev." He raised a finger to his forehead. "You see, I've got a plan."
Fran leaned around Bev and looked at him, wishing she were closer, as close as Bev was.
"What's the plan?" she asked.
"Aha," he said. "The plan is something."
"Well?" challenged Bev, curious.
"Yeah, Mark, don't be so secretive," said Frank. "We know this is a farewell party, but you didn't fill us in."
He lanked his long form on the barstool and faced the two heavy chicks. "Well, kids, as you know, I've been sweating it out in the ad agency for damned near two years. I picked up a lot of shit and I'm still out in the cold. But something great has come upon the horizon."
Bev almost curled her body into his as though to deny his words. She sipped from her glass and reached for the roach.
"You've got something cooking, Mark, fill us in," she said.
"Okay," he grinned, "but only if you promise to listen and then enjoy the party. I want to have tonight for all of us and not think about the future. I've done enough of that already."
"Hey, it's a promise," offered the sinuous Fran.
"I'll go along with that," said Bev, dragging deep on the roach.
Mark splashed some of his Scotch into his mouth and looked into some imaginary distance. He was a well-built man in his late twenties, aggressively handsome, sure of himself. He had a strong jaw and sensitive mouth. He smacked his lips. "It's like this, kids," he said. "You know I've been hacking the summer scene for a while with youth groups, and all, and I finally landed a cool gig at Wood Dell. It's an exclusive summer camp in the Sierra Madres, not too far away from here. But that's not the point. Like I've got this million-dollar idea, you know?" He paused for the effect he wanted.
Bev and Fran hung on every word.
"This week, I got it all together. I think." He paused again, trying to get his words out in the way he wanted. "You know Reynolds Industries?"
Bev and Fran both nodded.
"Well, they've made pretty fantastic records in several fields, aerospace, oil, airlines, and lately, motion pictures."
"About the biggest conglomerate going," said Fran, and Bev nodded.
"Right," said Mark, "and they're still going. Still moving ahead. I've been watching their stocks. But the biggie coming up is video cassettes, and through my private sources, I found out that old man Reynolds is heavy into the hardware end of that."
"I don't think I know what you're talking about now," said Fran. She had moved her stool out from the bar so that she was now as close as Bev was to Mark.
"Well, it's a rat race and who knows what is really a true picture," says Mark. "CCS has their EVR-electronic video recording, and there are a half dozen others in there, Sony, Avco, and what not. It's a system whereby you can hook into your present TV set and see whatever you want to on film. Like I mean you'll be able to go into a store and buy a John Wayne film for maybe seven or eight bucks and watch it as often as you want to."
"Outta sight," said Bev, before she burned her fingers on the last of the roach.
"So, everybody's into the act," said Mark. "All the giant companies are developing their own methods of presenting film in the privacy of the home and Reynolds is in the vanguard."
"So?" said Fran.
"So, yours truly, Mark Grant, just made a super proposal to Reynolds Industries about the software."
He let it hang and both girls gave him looks of complete blankness.
"What the hell's software?" ventured Fran.
Mark laughed. "The goddamn film. The product," he said earnestly.
"What about the John Wayne movies?" asked Bev.
"Fuck the John Wayne movies," he said. "That'll be fine for a while, but don't you see it opens up a whole new industry. All of these outfits will need something made for them. Exclusive. That's where your erotic genius Mark Grant comes in."
Fran gave him a puzzled look. So did Bev.
"Okay. Don't panic. I made a bitching proposal to Reynolds about this part of it. I propose to write and produce a whole big schmear of software for his firm-special films in all fields, educational, entertainment, the works. I've been waiting for something like this to come along. I've out-lined a whole set of films, -lined up crews, etc. I don't see how they can pass it up."
"But, man, you're talking to the biggest," said Fran. "They're already in the movie business."
"Right on," said Mark, pointing his finger at her. "But that's what bogs them down. They need short things, interesting things, created just for this market. My own ad agency is backing me up. They gave me a leave of absence and the wherewithal to promote this venture. We even have our own producing company."
"I still don't get it," said Bev. "Why are you going off to some kid camp for the summer?"
"Good point," he said, winking.
Both girls leaned off their stools.
"I am going to do the woodland thing because guess who is going to be one of the kiddies there at Wood Dell?"
"I'll bite," said Fran, "Lexington Averill Reynolds III, himself?'
Mark almost fell off his stool laughing. "The next best thing," he said when he recovered. "His daughter, Virginia Ware Reynolds, sole heir, et cetera, et cetera."
"You are a complete bastard," said Bev. "A complete egoist."
"Right on," said Mark.
"It sounds pretty devious to me," said Fran.
"Yeah, it's devious," he said, "like all business is devious. Look, I wrote a fifty-page proposal and my agency fellows checked it and it will take months for an answer. There's no reason I can't start to get in good with the top man. In fact, kids, as far as I'm concerned, that's the only way. If my stuff went through that complex monster known as Reynolds Industries, Incorporated, you know what would happen. It would fall by the wayside, no shit."
"Never leave any stone unturned," offered Bev, finishing her drink and looking very bored.
"It can't hurt, and it might help. Luckily I had the qualifications for this gig up there and it's almost certain I'll get to meet Reynolds himself. He thinks the world of that daughter of his."
"How old is this broad?" Bev asked as she went around the bar to build herself another drink.
"Hell, I don't know," he said. "In her teens. She's not been publicized. Reynolds has a thing about it. But my research, if it's correct, shows her to be in her late teens. And I'm the assistant counselor, me Marcus Grant, Polish ambassador of goodwill."
"You're crazy," said Fran.
"Like a fox," Mark grinned. He swung off his bar stool and joined Bev back of the bar.
"But that's enough business," he said. "Tonight we swing. You can read of my success in Barron's, the Wall Street Journal or Fortune. Tonight, we head it all off at the pass. There's a whole shoe box of grass around here, and I don't have to be in camp until tomorrow night or early the next day."
"That's more like it," said Fran sourly, holding her empty glass out to him.
"Smile," he said, and she did.
Back of the bar, Bev let him know what her feelings were. She found his crotch again and rubbed the bulge with her thighs. He pressed back and felt the yielding flesh. It was good, like a natural meeting between a man and a woman. He felt good about it. Her look became dreamy and he wondered how he was going to manage it with both of them there.
When he handed Fran her drink she gave him some reassurance by the way she looked at him.
It wasn't going to be so bad after all.
Mark lived in one of those new apartment houses where the owners don't care what you do because you pay enough rent to do what you want. He had a two-story apartment with a terrace, kitchen, bar, den, two bathrooms, and a large bedroom.
When he finished in the bathroom upstairs, he stepped out into the bedroom, zipping up his fly. A hand reached out and grabbed him before he could protest and he felt himself being jerked toward one of the twin beds. He heard a laugh crackle next to his ear, throaty and low, like a kitten in heat. As he fell on the bed, he half turned and saw that it was Bev who had propelled him against his will. Before he could recover from that shock of recognition, he heard another laugh, higher pitched and coming from a different direction.
It was Fran. She was leaning over him, her eyes glazed with a feline lust. Mark blinked and tried to sit up.
"We've got you now, big boy," laughed Bev.
"You're damned right," echoed Fran, "and we're not going to let you go."
"Until you satisfy us both," said Bev, plopping down beside him on the bed. Mark was still looking up backward into Fran's face, made lovely in the soft light, but from the angle, drawn macabre like a she-devil.
"That may be an impossibility," said Mark, "I've had quite a bit to drink and...."
"Bullshit," said Bev, her hand already rifling his fly.
Fran came around and sat on the other side of Mark, her fingers attacking the buttons on his shirt.
"I should have worn a sweater," Mark laughed.
"You should have worn an iron suit," said Fran.
"Would it have helped?" asked Mark.
"Not in the least," said Bev. Zip went his zipper. "Aha, there lies the sleeping giant!"
"Don't molest it," said Fran. "Not until he's completely stripped."
"That won't be long," said Bev, going at his buckle with her own brand of expertise.
"This is something," said Mark, leaning back on his arms. "Like a couple of scavengers. Pick away, girls. To the victors go the spoils. I just hope I'll be able to enjoy it."
"You will," said Bev. "Believe me you will."
And he was. To an exquisite degree.
Now naked, Fran was like delicate Aracline , spinning her web in preparation for her prey. Both were superb in their technique, alternately slow and gentle and rough and ... exquisite. From the moment Fran first touched him, Mark need not have worried about his power, despite the number of drinks he had consumed at his own party.
Her slender fingers took his limp cock into them like a connoisseur would hold a budding flower. Her fingernails slid gentle along the thick vein and stretched the hanging foreskin as though testing fine silk.
Bev, too, was naked, her mouth was searching for his scrotum, wet against the inside of his thigh, her tongue there and then not there, teasing in its lashing hints.
Mark felt his cock rise like a stalk out of warm fertile soil.
"Ahh!" breathed Fran. "Life. I have created life."
"Mmmm," murmured Bev, her mouth opening to enclose his sack, her tongue nudging it partially inside. Mark winced with the shock of the dampness on his scrotum.
Fran's hand closed around his cock in a tighter grip, pulling upward, feeling the thing swell with his hot blood. Bev's tongue laved away at his testicles bringing his erection farther up in Fran's hand.
"You both better be careful or you're going to have a mess on your hands," croaked Mark.
"You wouldn't dare!" said Fran.
"He better not," said Bev, from down under.
"Take it easy," soothed Fran.
"You take it easy," Mark laughed.
Fran looked at him a moment, then brought her mouth down to his cock. Mark arched his back as though galvanized. His cock slid inside her lips and found her working tongue, thickening saliva. "Oh, Jesus," he breathed, "but that's good."
Fran slid his cock in and out until it was smooth and slick, its hardness like a curved sculpture pulsing with life. Bev brought herself up for air-and to watch as Fran sucked their shared man.
"Man, you've got a beautiful cock," she said, as Fran slid his thickness in and out, in and out.
"Well, don't wear it out," Bev said, half sarcastically.
"It's guaranteed for life," breathed Mark, trying to think of something else. He knew both chicks would be disappointed if he shot his wad right at first. But that mouth of Fran's was bringing his juices to the bubbling point.
Suddenly, Fran stopped her suckling. "Man, I've got to have that cock inside me," she breathed.
In a tangle of hair and bodies, she slid up on top of Mark until she had her buttocks over his crotch. Reaching down, she grabbed his swollen cock with one hand and held it in position. Then she lowered her cunt until his member touched her lips. She slid down on it until it penetrated her lips and she felt its head enter her moist chamber. "Jesus, but that's good," she sighed.
"It's beautiful," said Mark and she plunged him home until all of his cock was inside her, pulsing in the hot dank folds of her pussy.
She slid up and down his throbbing length like an elevator with its controls stuck. She crooned to herself as the delicious ecstasy of his cock inside her blew her mind. Mark lay there, in control. He looked up at her and saw that her eyes were closed now, that she was concentrating on every inch of his throbber, feeling it not only in her body, but in her blown mind.
Bev watched everything with envy, her own body a mass of tangled messages. Heat and passion flooded her, but she enjoyed the watching, knowing that her turn was next. As she watched that oiled cock of Mark's disappearing in the depths of Fran's down-thrusting cunt, she felt her own organ respond as though it were she receiving the swollen pulser. "Man," Bev said, licking her lips.
Fran still had her eyes closed, but her steady rhythm remained unchanged. Every few seconds she would shudder without pausing in her u-pand-down riding.
Finally, Mark let himself go. He reached up and put his arms around Fran's shoulders. He pulled her down to him and kissed her, held her tight as he thrust upward, grinding his own hips to bury his shaft even deeper inside her.
"Ooooh," Fran moaned.
"That's it, Mark," said Bev. "Fuck her good, you bastard!"
"I am," he breathed, jamming himself inside the girl to the hilt. Their grinding found a common rhythm and Mark became swept up in the tumult of their twin passions. He pushed and jabbed until the head of his cock seemed about to burst. Fran screamed with the ecstasy of it and she came with a gush just as he did. He felt the explosion and the outrush of his seed. He held her very tight and moaned in her ear. Fran shuddered and scratched his back.
Bev felt her own juices gush inside her.
"Damn," she muttered. Fifteen minutes later, she had Mark aroused and on top of her, while Fran lay beside them both, exhausted.
Bev was not disappointed at seconds. Nor was Mark.
Fran just smiled, reliving her own series of orgasms. At one point, though, caught up in a passion he couldn't explain, Mark's hands had tightened around Bev's throat nearly strangling her. She choked, but in time, Mark realized what' he was doing and stopped. But it was disconcerting.
The next morning, feeling like a million, Mark hopped in his MG and drove off to Wood Dell, content. He felt that he could face the summer now with a confidence that his hedonism had given him. That was the way to live, he thought. Have a ball, no matter where you are, who you're with. He drove the freeway to the Sierra Madres with a good feeling in his loins. He looked forward to the fragrant smell of pines and the crisp, smogless air in the mountains. He was humming to himself as he drove.
The director of the camp, Belle Stern, had told him that he'd be expected to live an exemplary life while there-both in and out of camp. That's why he'd decided to have a farewell party for himself. If he was going to face a summer of celibacy, he at least wanted something to look back on.
But now he was thinking of Belle Stern, Camp Director of Wood Dell. Belle Stern and those blue eyes of hers! Too much!
CHAPTER ONE
Belle Stern, the director of Wood Dell, stood on the porch of the administration building and looked out over the camp. She took a deep breath and her breasts filled her blouse in a comely proportion. Even in khaki trousers and blouse her femininity was assured, and this despite her short Italian boy haircut. Her hips flared out to a contour that left no doubt that pants or not, this was a woman wearing them. But the eyes stopped you short. They were startlingly blue and frosty like polar ice. Behind those eyes intelligence crackled and a certain masculine hardness seemed to peer out over her aquiline nose. But then, she was the camp director and such a person must be many things to many different people.
Belle felt good. The camp was filling up, registration was going beautifully. She rubbed her hand across a tanned arm and smiled as a girl from last year waved at her. She'd walk over to the combination gym and theatre where the girls were signing in after she drank in more of this feeling she had.
For the truth was that Belle felt like a queen. And this was her domain. She lived for the summers at Wood Dell. This was when her power became visible, her kingdom took on life. It gave her an intense personal satisfaction to be running such an exclusive camp and it filled a deep need that she was reluctant to face most of the time. Belle was thirty years old and had never married. She wasn't quite sure why something within herself that couldn't be decided. Yet she was happy, reasonably so. Most of the time. But never so much as when her camp, which she had directed for the past six years, was filled with people, counselors, assistants, cooks, instructors, maintenance men, and girls.
Belle let herself indulge in a huge sigh of contentment just as Mark Grant drove through the gate in his bright red MG. He saw Belle as he drove by the cabins and waved to her. She waved back and flashed a smile that was as dazzling as her blue eyes. Her white even teeth were whiter still against the tan of her lean hawk-like face. Mark smiled back and pulled into the staff parking lot. In the upper lots, fancy cars were unloading girls and baggage.
"Hi," Mark said, walking up as Belle stepped off the porch on her way to the gym-theatre. "It's filling up."
"Hello, Mark. Glad to see you. Yes, it is," she smiled. "Do you remember where your quarters are?"
"Sure. It's the second one from here."
"Right. You remembered."
Mark strolled beside her as she headed toward the lower building.
"Do you want to unpack now?" she asked.
"Anytime."
"Good, you can come with me over to the registration. It'll go a lot smoother now. Most of the girls have checked in."
"You're going to have a full house?"
"Yes, Mark, we always do. You put an 'exclusive' on something and that takes care of that."
"I know what you mean."
They walked on pine needles and Mark let the smell of freshness fill his nostrils and his lungs. The pine smell had been teasing him for the past few miles but now it was rich and heady. Driving up to the camp from Bass Lake Village he had thought about his evening before and was glad to get the scent of the two girls out of his nostrils. Although it had been a ball and he'd had his ashes hauled, the clean fresh air of the mountains was almost as good a constitutional as the sex had been. That incident with his hands on Bev's neck had him wondering. Had he been trying to choke her deliberately? He shook off the thought.
Of course not. It was only a caress carried too far. But he had been strangling her and hadn't meant to. He shuddered to think what might have happened had they been alone and he'd been too drunk, drunker than he actually was, to have known what he was doing. Yes, the air felt good and here he was at Wood Dell, assistant director with not a care in the world. His step was springy as he walked along with Belle, feeling years younger already.
"Well, there's where they all check in," she said when they reached the large hall.
"Pretty smooth," he commented.
"Yes, we know most of the girls, from years past. Some new ones are here and the junior counselors help them."
Belle went over the functions of everyone again for Mark's benefit, even though he had heard it in a previous interview. But here he was in the thick of it, and it all made more sense now.
They stood in the large room, watching the routine at the sign-in tables. Each new girl was assigned a cottage and a counselor, according to her age and background. It went very smoothly. Mark was halfway bored with the whole routine until he noticed a dark-haired girl of seventeen, who came in with a taller, more sophisticated-looking blonde. They both wore expensive clothes and had a look about them that put them several cuts above any of the girls he had seen previously. But his ears really perked up when he heard them announce themselves to the girl at the registration table.
The dark one said, "Hi, I'm Ginny Reynolds."
The name struck a chord in Mark's brain and he almost swallowed his Adam's apple. Could it be? Impossible. The daughter of Gilbert Reynolds, the man he had just mailed his materials to? Naw, he told himself.
Until the other girl introduced herself. The blonde. "And I'm Andrea Cornwell," she said, her voice like a husk on the summer wind.
Cornwell! Her father was James Barton Cornwell, Executive Director of Reynolds Industries. No, there was no mistake. Hell no, there wasn't!
Mark was elated, but he did hide his pleasure with a coolness that surprised him. This was just too damned good to be true! What a way to get in with Reynolds. A further in! Damn! If he played his cards right, he'd get to meet both the bigwigs in person at the end of the summer session. Hell, before that. There were two sessions and these chicks were in the first one. All the parents had to come to pick up their children and he was sure that he could bring himself to the attention of both Cornwell and Reynolds. He watched the two girls, comparing them. Both were impressive, but in Ginny Reynolds he noticed an innocence that was appealing. She had long dark hair, impeccably groomed, with a subdued sheen that bespoke of cleanliness. Her face was open, with a small pert sharp nose and full lips, even white teeth. Her figure was remarkably voluptuous without any obvious pretense on her part. Today she wore blue slacks, sandals that showed her bare slim ankles and a light sweater that showed her young saucy breasts to distinct advantage. She wore a light blue band in her hair that showed her high handsome forehead most admirably.
Andrea Cornwell had a slight condescension about her. But perhaps, Mark thought, that was due to her slightly upturned nose. Her eyes were brown in contrast to Ginny's, which were blue, and the effect in both was startling. Andrea bore herself well, as though she had been to a fancy finishing school in the East, while Ginny had been more accustomed to horses on a San Fernando Valley ranch. Andrea was tall and her body was squeezed into her tight pants and sweater. She wore a little vest that could scarcely conceal her full and protruding breasts. Mark was sure he could see her nipples through the sweater and thought that she may not have been wearing a bra. She too wore a band in her hair, brown to match her outfit and she looked like a high-class hooker or a chick who had been around enough to know how to turn a grown man on.
"Well, Mark," said Belle, "you're the assistant director, what do you think so far?"
Mark turned to the woman immediately, afraid she had read his thoughts, which by now were beginning to stray way beyond an honest appraisal of the two girls just checking in. He looked her straight in those ice-blue eyes. "It's going to be a great summer," he grinned. "You have a marvelous camp and fine girls here." Might as well turn on the bullshit.
"Good. Glad you're impressed." She ran her hands through her short thick dark hair and sighed. "It's going to be busy, busy, busy, though."
"Yeah, I'm hip," he said.
"Let's go over to my office for a few minutes and I'll brief you on what happens the rest of today and go over some of your duties. Hate to get right into it, but here it is. Camp has started."
"Glad to do it. I'm eager to start."
He didn't glance at the girls again as the two of them left the building. They walked up a pine lane over a small arched bridge made of redwood and to her office in the administration cabin. He felt good, damned good, better than he could have expected. Life, he thought, was sometimes too good to be true, trite as that sounded. Already, though, his mind was racing ahead with schemes. And not all of them had to do with business.
It took him all of five minutes to admit to himself that he had gotten this job on a pretty good hunch that old man Reynolds' daughter would be there. He just hadn't wanted to seem that goddamned mercenary, even to himself. But it gave him a good feeling to know that he was covering all bases.
Ginny Reynolds thought that it was a gas, coming to Wood Dell with Andrea, her now closest friend. She had begged her folks to let her come up with Andrea and despite the fact that they doted overly much over their daughter, they had agreed. Gil Reynolds had relented because she was coming with Andrea, the daughter of his closest friend and most valued associate. Priscilla Reynolds, her mother, had consented because she had investigated the camp, checked all of their references and found it to be in keeping with their station in life.
But Ginny didn't care about all that. All her life, as an only child, she had been protected. Protected from life. Andrea, she knew, had her own car, went out with anyone she chose and did things, outtasight things that she herself could only dream about. With her, it always had to be the right school, the right friends, the right hours, chaperoned dances, the whole tired bit. But that wasn't Ginny. She wanted to be free, happy, like Andrea. She wanted to get with the world, not be supervised as she had been all of her seventeen years. This was the first time she had been this far away from her parents and inside she gloated, even though it all seemed so unreal.
As she and Andrea walked over to their cabin, she danced over the pine needles like a ballerina. "Oh, it's so great here, Andrea;" she said. "No parents, no checking on you!"
"Wait'll we bomb into the town," Andrea told her square friend. "That's when I'll start to get it on."
"But this is so beautiful up here!"
"Right on, Ginny, but this isn't everything." Andrea had a smile playing over her lips and Ginny thought that perhaps she would be let in on the secret too, now that she was with Andrea, away from her parents.
Their cabin was the end one, overlooking the lake, secluded. It had four walls, which were open, and a canvas roof, with sides that could be pulled down all the way in case of rain. There were rough bunks inside and to their delight they found that they were the only two girls in this one. Their counselor had a bunk there too, but to the two girls it seemed as though the cabin were all their own.
"Take any two bunks you want, girls," said Mary Wells, their groovy young counselor. "We're just the three of us here."
"How come?" asked Ginny, throwing her duffle bag on a bunk.
"This is the overflow cabin. Full camp. This one is usually reserved for late-staying unexpected guests, lost hikers, or what have you. It'll-be great, though, just us. We can always go to the cabin next to us if we want extra company."
"Outta sight," said Andrea, taking the bunk over Ginny's.
Mary was a thin girl who had been going to camp for years and graduated from a junior counselor to a full-fledged employee the year before. She sang, played the guitar, and wrote poetry. She was also a fine swimmer and horsewoman. Ginny and Andrea thought she was really something and both gave her a big welcome hug which seemed to make them all instant friends of one another.
"See you later, girls," Mary told them, "I've got to go to the ad building for a while. Make yourselves at home."
"Hey, we will, Mary," said Ginny.
"See you," piped in Andrea, already unraveling her gear.
The two girls bustled with their things. Ginny was overjoyed to be at Wood Dell and, as she unpacked, her thoughts raced like wildfire over a prairie brush.
"Wasn't that guy cute?" asked Andrea, interrupting Ginny's thoughts.
"What guy?"
"You saw him! Don't give me that! The real cute guy down at the registration building."
"Oh him! The old cat."
"Old?" screeched Andrea. "He's just right!"
"He's in his twenties at least."
"So? That's old? I'm almost eighteen."
"Yeah, me too. I guess it's not old. I didn't pay that much attention," said Ginny.
"Well, you better take another look, then. He was sure as the devil paying attention to you."
"He was?" asked Ginny.
"Yeah. To both of us, but especially to you. Oh, he didn't think anyone noticed. He's a cool head. But I saw him. I know how men look and how to catch them at it." Andrea stood up, tossing her blonde hair back over her shoulders, her head high.
Ginny looked at her with envy. Andrea knew so much! "Gee, I wished I had noticed him more," she finally said to Andrea.
"Well, we'll see him again. I'm pretty sure he's one of the biggies here at Wood Dell. We'll ask Mary when we see her."
Ginny nodded and sat down on her bunk. Everything was neatly put away. Oh, it was going to be so grand up here, she thought. She was still so excited she didn't know what to do with herself. Already there was a man interested in her, if she could believe Andrea, and they had a groovy cabin and the whole summer. It was just too much. She would never forget it. Not a moment of it! She gave a big sigh and just let her thoughts roam as Andrea climbed up in her bunk to rest after all the excitement.
Part of the excitement was seeing Belle Stern again. She had met Belle in Los Angeles and it was because of her that Andrea had picked out Wood Dell and talked her parents into sending her here for the summer, instead of to the camp she had been going to further north. Seeing Belle had given her a tug at her midsection, all right. Seeing the man with her, whoever he was, had brought back another reason why she wanted to come to Wood Dell instead of going to camp in Sequoia. At the other camp, there had been a handsome young counselor too; single, male, and eligible. It had taken Andrea no effort whatsoever to make him break all the rules and give her what she wanted. She smacked her lips in recollection. "I'll bet Belle Stern's a dyke," she told Ginny, for no reason.
"Who?"
"The director. Her name's Belle Stern."
"What makes you think she's a lesbian?" asked Ginny, trying to appear worldly.
"Oh, her job. The way she wears her hair. She's on the mannish side."
"You're jumping to conclusions," said Ginny.
"Hmm. Maybe," Andrea said, unconvinced. The truth was that Andrea was so sex-oriented that she automatically sized up every person she met in terms of sexual potential. Anxious to satisfy her own precociousness, Andrea was eager to see who was who and who would do what to whom. She wasn't always aware of this tendency of hers, but her evaluations, like that of Belle Stern, would always pop into her mind sooner or later.
After supper that night, when Belle Stern had given the welcoming speech to the staff and girls, Andrea was sure that she had sized up the director correctly. She told Ginny as they were walking back to their cabin, whispering, "she may be AC-DC, but I got her right. She'll swing to girls or men, I'll bet."
Ginny laughed. "How'd we ever prove something like that to pay off the bet?" she asked innocently.
Andrea didn't answer, just chuckled silently to herself. She had glanced at the Stern woman several times during the meal in the large dining room and once or twice had found an answering look. The thrill of it had almost been too much. But there was a sexiness about Belle Stern that drew Andrea to her and she felt that she was projecting the same magnetism.
Oh, it was nothing she could pin down for sure, but it was there. A couple of glances, a feeling. The way she looked over the heads of most of the girls, but her eyes stayed ever so slightly longer on Andrea. That's how she could tell. Thinking of it now brought a warmth to her loins and she had a moment of panic. That was the trouble being in such a commune as this. No privacy. 'very little. But she had ways of masturbating that would be virtually undetectable. If she really wanted to, that is.
After supper there was singing around the campfire and all of the girls began to feel a part of the camp. Mary played her guitar accompaniment to the singing and the crackle of the fire seemed to draw them all closer together. When, finally the embers were put out and each girl went to her cabin, there was a feeling of nostalgia mingled with a new camaraderie. Andrea and Ginny waited for Mary, but she told them to go on, that she had something to talk over with Belle. The girls walked back to their cabin alone.
Undressing, Andrea noticed how self-conscious Ginny was. Somehow this intrigued her. She had to admit that she really didn't know Ginny that well. They had never spent any time alone together, not like this-a few shopping trips, weekends when the parents were around. No mutual dates or anything. But she had assumed that Ginny was like herself, able to make out if she wanted to, until on the trip up, Ginny had confessed that she was not allowed to do a lot of things that Andrea took for granted.
Andrea's heart went out to Ginny, but she was not quite sure what to do. She was so sweet, but so square. Those kind always fall hard, she thought. When the pleasures of the world were opened up to them, they sometimes went ape-completely ape. Looking at Ginny, she had the feeling that she was that type. She obviously wanted a great deal more out of life than she felt she was getting. So what to do? What could she, Andrea, do to awaken Ginny to the things that made life a gas, an absolute ball? Her heart quickened. Ginny was naked in the lamp glow of the Coleman, just for the briefest of moments before she slipped into her new pajamas.
Andrea remembered back to her first awakening of pleasure. It was not with a boy, as she would have expected from her dreams and her desires, but with another girl. One much like herself, now, she had to admit. A friend in school, Natalie, had invited her to stay overnight with her. She could recall that evening with a more profound clarity now that she could see herself, her once self, in Ginny.
She and Natalie had laughed and giggled long after the lights were out. Then there was a silence in the room, the laughter echoes faded away, and under the covers, Natalie's soft hand, searching, sliding into her pajama bottoms, finding her nest, her softness, her eager virginity. Andrea's blood quickened in the remembering....
Natalie's hand on Andrea's thigh, at first, brought a delicious thrill to her loins. It was partly the intimacy, partly the secrecy of the very act that made it thrilling to Andrea. She felt her legs go weak, tingling as though they had fallen asleep like they sometimes did in movies when she'd be absorbed in the screen. Despite herself, Andrea had sighed. But her own hand found Natalie's and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Encouraged by her friend's response, Natalie moved her hand in a gentle fashion up and down Andrea's outer thigh. Her hand seemed to lull Andrea into a cloudy state as though she had just smoked an entire joint of marijuana. She drowsed in a haze of contentment as Natalie's hand continued its soporific massage.
It was a strange feeling. Andrea still couldn't fully define how she felt. But the magic qf Natalie's hand made her bask like a sated kitten, enveloped in a dreamy fogbank of satisfaction.
Slowly, imperceptibly, without Andrea's realizing what was actually happening, Natalie's hand moved up and down Andrea's pajama-clad leg and thigh, on the inside. When Andrea finally realized the subtle change that had unobtrusively taken place, her insides quaked like soft marsh grass trembling from an earth tremor.
"Oh, my God," Andrea had breathed. "Feel good?" asked Natalie. "More than that," said Andrea. "I know, Andrea. But wait. Just relax a little more."
That was when Natalie's hand had reached over the top of Andrea's pajama bottoms and slid downward to her nest. The electric thrill that surged through Andrea's loins was the most exciting she had ever experienced. She wanted to enclose Natalie in her arms, squeeze her until she could squeeze no more. But there hadn't been time for that. Natalie pulled down Andrea's pajamas and was soon kissing her thighs, then the springy hairs around her cunt, finally her tongue entering the soft gate. Andrea had wanted to scream at the top of her voice with the ecstasy of it!
Instead, her body writhed as Natalie's tongue probed her inflamed sex with practiced expertise. "Oh, man, I'm coming!" Andrea had exclaimed.
Natalie had just buried her head deeper between the girl's thighs, her tongue finding new flesh to incite to flame. Andrea had thrown her legs up around Natalie's head with the excitement of gushing orgasm. And so it had gonedelight after delight consuming her until it had been her turn to practice what she had learned-to make Natalie as happy as she had made her.
Andrea smiled to herself at the remembering ... it had been no trouble at all, but in fact, a fine adventure that she had enjoyed. She felt complete-masculine and feminine all at once, a feeling she had longed for each time she had coupled with a boy. Nothing with sex had ever been quite so satisfying as that time with Natalie, she reflected. But looking at Ginny now, she thought, that perhaps it could again. She crossed her fingers as she slid under the covers.
"You going to bed?" asked Ginny, still flushed from the excitement of the day.
"Umm. Not to sleep. I just want to feel how soft it is. You?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I'm so tired. But I'm still up from all that's happened today."
"I know," said Andrea. "You need to relax. I can do it for you."
"You can?"
"Sure," said Andrea as she popped back up again to sit on the edge of her bunk. "Just lie down on your tummy and I'll be right down. It's an ancient Hindu secret passed on to me by a society of gnomes."
Ginny laughed and plopped on to her tummy. Andrea sprang down from her bunk and sat next to Ginny. She pulled up her pajama tops and began to massage Ginny's back and neck, gently but firmly.
"Hey, that does feel great," exclaimed Ginny.
"I told you. Relax some more. I'll have you nodding in a few minutes."
"Ummmm. It already feels delicious," sighed Ginny.
Andrea rubbed her hands over the blades of Ginny's back, up to her neck, softening the flesh under her deft fingers as she went. Ginny began to relax; a feeling of lassitude pervaded her entire body. Her eyelids became heavier and in a few moments she was fast asleep. Andrea gave her a pat on her bottom and whispered into her ear. "I'll come to you later."
Ginny turned over on her side and moaned but did not awaken. Had she heard her? Andrea didn't know, but she already knew what she was going to do.
Mary came in several moments later and tiptoed to her own bunk. She undressed while Andrea watched her. But Mary didn't seem to notice or to care. When she had turned down her own bunk, she turned out the lamp. "Good night, Andrea," she whispered in the dark.
"Good night, Mary," Andrea replied.
Andrea, though, didn't go to sleep. She waited a long time, for what seemed to her like hours, until she heard Mary's steady breathing. Andrea could see the counselor's form as she turned to the wall, her back to the room. Moonlight filtered in through the sides of the cabin where the tarpaulin was rolled up. In the distance, Andrea could hear the lap of waves on the lake and once, the lone cry of an owl testing its voice on the night air.
Andrea was conscious of the heavy sound of her own breathing as she slipped from underneath her covers. Stealthily, she climbed down from her bunk, falling light and barefoot on the rough hardwood floor. Her heart was thumping madly in her chest as she knelt beside the slumbering Ginny. She glanced once more at Mary's bunk, her pulse beating at her temples like an insistent swarm of bees. Moonlight danced on her blonde hair, lighting it with a shimmering halo. Her breasts rose and fell steadily under her pajama blouse and, gradually, she became calm. Ginny slept on, her breathing deep and steady. Her face was turned toward Andrea, and, suffused with tenderness, she reached out impulsively to stroke it.
Lovely Ginny, she thought, so warm and peaceful-so innocent and desirable. Andrea pulled the covers down a short ways and exposed the pajama-clad upper torso of the sleeping girl. She unbuttoned the topmost button and slipped her hand inside. Touching Ginny's soft breast brought a tingle to her own as the nipples throbbed with a surge of blood.
Andrea took one of Ginny's nipples between her fingers and began kneading it gently. As the nipple hardened like a kernel of corn, Ginny stirred slightly. Andrea bent down then and kissed her friend on the lips. Ginny's eyes opened and she would have gasped if Andrea had not then kissed her the harder, her moist full lips smothering any cry that might have sprung forth.
Ginny struggled to break free, startled by this sudden and unexpected awakening. But Andrea darted her tongue inside Ginny's mouth and found hers. Her hand was still on Ginny's breast, kneading, stroking, bringing a fire to Ginny's delicate mounds. Gradually Ginny relaxed in Andrea's embrace. Her own tongue began to respond to Andrea's probing. Sensing the change, Andrea diminished the intensity of her kiss, sighed, and broke her lips free of their clinging.
"Shhh!" she whispered to Ginny.
Ginny's eyebrows arched high in a question mark.
"Move over," Andrea whispered, putting her finger to Ginny's lips in an indication for silence.
Ginny shook her head, uncertain. Andrea shoved gently on Ginny's shoulders, pushing her, and moved her own body up on the edge of the bunk. Obediently then, Ginny scooted over and Andrea pulled down the covers and slid in the bunk next to the still startled girl.
"I want you, Ginny," said Andrea. "But be quiet or you'll blow it."
"No," breathed Ginny.
"Yes," said Andrea and took the girl in her arms.
Ginny's head swam as she felt the soft nearness of her friend. Her thoughts swirled with secrets unlocked, forbidden doors opening, half-understood dreams illuminating. A protest rose up in her throat, then fell back, stillborn, as Andrea's caresses blotted out any thought of stopping this madness, this overwhelming ecstasy.
CHAPTER TWO
Andrea's hands were on her breasts, her mouth nibbled at Ginny's hungrily-and Ginny, caught up in the tumult of her own released desires, responded with a steadily increasing passion. She responded with her own mouth, her tongue and her eagerly pushing breasts, swollen now from Andrea's hot touches.
All the years of loneliness, the dark nights of sad solitary confinement, and the secret wishing times seemed to bubble up inside her, fighting their way through to consciousness, and from consciousness to this-the act itself, the real thing. Not the way she had pictured it, but there, love, passion, full-blown emotion. No, not in her wildest of secret dreams had she imagined it would be like this. Not with a girl, not with Andrea.
But it was like this and the more Andrea kissed and caressed her, the more she wanted it to be just like this. The floodgates had opened and all of her locked-in passions were rushing through in a surge of blessed relief.
Between her legs, Ginny could feel the fire and the dampness. She felt the pulsing of her cunt, eagerly thrusting its puffed lips toward Andrea, to make contact, to feel her own cunt against hers. And Andrea, swept up with the urgency of her own desires, slid on top of Ginny, pressing against her, breasts crushing breasts, vagina grinding against vagina.
Despite herself, Ginny moaned with the pleasure of Andrea's mounting. And then Andrea was unbuttoning her own pajamas. Eagerly, Ginny slid out of her tops while Andrea was pulling off her bottoms, then Ginny's, until their bodies met in the moonlit darkness in naked abandon, flesh to flesh, body to body, mouth to mouth.
Ginny gushed her love for Andrea deep inside her virginal well. Her body writhed in the flames of Andrea's caresses. No longer were her thoughts confused by what should have been or what might have been. She wanted Andrea and her love. She wanted it all over her and all through her.
Andrea's hand slipped down between Ginny's legs. She found the damp nest. She clung to the stiff springy hairs, pushing hard against the fleshy mound. Ginny nearly swooned with the exquisite touching. This was what she wanted! Her mind seemed to be shrieking. This was what she needed!
The blonde girl's finger, then, slipped past the moistened portals, found the fallow honeypot. Ginny bit her own lip to keep from crying out. She felt her loins go weak while throbbing with a strange eager power. Andrea's finger was touching so many things, so many good places! Like it?" Andrea whispered.
"I love it," Ginny cooed softly.
Andrea, knowing what to look for, found Ginny's love-button and stroked it into a slender hardness while her friend nearly fainted from the flood-warmth of this new touch. She drenched Andrea's probing finger with the oils of her passion and Andrea melted with the realization of what she had done. Her own well gushed without any interior caress to open the tap. "You came," she whispered to Ginny.
"Yes, yes, oh yes," she moaned.
Both of them embraced anew, holding close to each other's body.
"Touch me down there," Andrea told her. "Like I'm doing to you."
Suddenly Ginny wanted to. She wanted to give Andrea the same pleasure she was being given. In that first touching of her finger to Andrea's private parts, Ginny crossed a threshold that had long loomed as an inaccessible chasm. The inhibitions instilled in her by a sundry amalgam of disparate factors, environ mental, hereditary, parental, and scholastic, all seemed to converge on a pinpoint from some fathomless depth. In touching Andrea, in feeling the soft yielding flesh of her vagina, Ginny stepped away from her imprisoned past. The pinpoint broke off; the pain was infinitesimal, the glory of the single brief moment a song that rose to her lips, a floodtide of pent-up passion that broke over the barricades and flooded her in a crashing sea of pleasure.
"Oh thank you, Ginny," Andrea moaned as Ginny's finger penetrated her vaginal lips. "You're so very sweet."
Gingerly, Ginny probed deeper, past Andrea's pneumatic portals, into the fleshy cavern where the honey bubbled and sang in its heated cauldron. Knowing that where she penetrated was the innermost sacristy of pleasure, gave Ginny a satisfaction she had never known before. More than pleasure, it gave her a sense of belonging, of initiation, finally, into the profound mysteries of life-mysteries that had been denied her until now.
Deeper went her finger, pushing and being sucked inward by Andrea's eager cunt. She felt Andrea's whole body respond to her thrust as though galvanized. She herself gushed her juices with Andrea's own tingling finger until orgasm exploded deep within her once again.
It seemed so simple to learn these things, Ginny thought. It wasn't really learning, but something that was known instinctively. Her own body was like Andrea's and what felt good to her would also feel good to her friend. It was that simple. But the exquisite part was how her body seemed to vibrate on the touches of Andrea. The last orgasm had seemed to shake her like a sapling in a windstorm, an uncontrollable palsy that had been tingling with the excitement and rapture of sex.
"What do you think now?" Andrea whispered to Ginny.
"I can't think. I feel great," Ginny whispered back.
"This isn't all there is to it, you know."
"It isn't?" Ginny could hardly believe it.
"No. Listen, have you ever heard boys talking about eating pussy?"
"Yes, I guess so," said Ginny, although she wasn't sure she heard it from a boy.
"Well, that's what I mean."
"I don't follow you," said Ginny.
"Be still and let me turn around. I'll show you."
"I always thought it was a joke," said Ginny as Andrea turned over. "It's no joke, baby."
Before she went down on Ginny, Andrea glanced again at Mary, who was still peacefully sleeping with her back turned to the two girls. With a sigh, Andrea's mouth found the bushy fragrance of Ginny's thighs. Her body lay alongside of Ginny, and Ginny stiffened at the new touch, the new act. The hairs on her legs stood on end as a tingle of excitement coursed through her body.
Andrea's mouth found Ginny's labia and her tongue pushed its way past the softness into the honey-filled interior. It slid deeper inside until it found the swollen node of her clit. The touch of her tongue on it caused Ginny's body to react spasmodically. She jerked once, then lay still as an overwhelming sea of delights inundated her. Her brain swarmed once again with a million disconnected thoughts. So it was true, after all. It was, as Andrea had said, no joke. She could feel Andrea's mouth on her organ, her tongue inside her, touching that part of her that was like an exposed electric cord with thousands of tingling volts smashing through it. Her hips fell away and she spread her young legs wide so that Andrea could go deeper, deeper with her vibrant tongue.
"Oh, my God, that feels so goddamned good," she moaned.
Andrea dove deeper with her tongue. It seemed to Ginny that Andrea's tongue was made of pure fire. It touched parts of her that ignited her whole being. She was wracked with a series of uncontrollable orgasms that seemed to follow one another with a machine-gun-like rapidity. Just when she would think it was over with, Andrea would touch another spot and the electricity would course through her with a fiery abandon. At the last of these series, Andrea had suddenly shifted her position, throwing her leg over Ginny's face and shoulder until she was straddling her. Ginny knew what she wanted. She looked up and saw the hairy crotch of her friend. It loomed over her like some forbidden hanging garden. She hesitated, unsure of herself. Then Andrea gently lowered her pussy so that it was right over Ginny's face. And she stopped her tonguing of Ginny's clit for a fraction of a moment.
Ginny reached up and pulled on Andrea's buttocks, bringing her pussy down to her lips. She buried her face in the luxuriance. She was awkward at first, but she used her nose to find Andrea's slit buried in the bush. She put her mouth on the soft lips and hesitatingly pushed her tongue out until it touched flesh. Then Andrea resumed her violent tonguing. Spurred on by this, Ginny forced her own tongue into the wet channel of Andrea's cunt. She ran it up and down Andrea's slit and felt her girl friend's body move gently in a sideways rhythm. Ginny pushed deeper and felt the many folds of lubricated flesh inside Andrea. Searching, eager now, she found the elusive clit and pushed her mouth in so that she could suck it inside. Andrea's body shuddered as orgasm flushed her cunt full of juices.
Ginny reveled in the delight she knew she was bringing to her friend. She sucked and tongued with an abandon that surprised her, even though she had thought she had had an end to surprises. Andrea's pussy throbbed and bounced at her tonguing with a primitive series of jerking movements as stab after stab of pleasure brought her to climax.
A few moments later, exhausted, the two girls broke off their lovemaking and resumed their former positions. Andrea held Ginny tightly in her arms and kissed her ears and her neck.
"It was all so good," said Ginny.
"I know. You make a good lover," said Andrea.
They lay there with each other for a long time, breathing heavily, each thinking her own private thoughts.
"I'd better go up to my own bunk before I fall asleep," Andrea said.
"Yeah, though it feels so good with you here. Andrea...."
"Yes?"
"Thank you. I've-I've never felt so good before. In my whole life."
"Me neither."
"Good night."
"Good night, sweet," said Andrea, imparting a kiss on Ginny's cheek.
She slipped reluctantly out from under the covers, retrieved her pajamas and put them on before climbing up into her bunk.
Outside the cabin, Belle Stern took a deep sigh and tiptoed away from the pine tree where she had watched for so long. Her eyes burned with a fierce light and her heart pumped wildly in her breast. Her own loins ached with a dull unquenched fire. Belle slipped wearily into her own cabin. The day had taken a lot out of her. She didn't know how to react to the tableau she had just witnessed. Her own feelings were very mingled. Desire had flooded her just as it had Ginny and Andrea, and she felt unfulfilled. On one side she knew she was now possessed of valuable information. Her first duty was to the camp and its discipline.
But her duty to herself as a woman held some importance too.
She dressed disconsolately for bed and, before lying down, took a look at herself in the mirror. She ran her hands once through her thick short hair and sighed.
She was still attractive; her figure was athletic, but feminine enough, she decided. It was her age that bothered her. Seeing those two girls, at the beginning of their prime, made her feel a lot older than she was.
She knew that Andrea had seduced Ginny. That was plain to see. That, too, excited Belle, and she wondered if her own advances would receive the same fervor, now that the ice was broken. Not here. Not at camp, of course. But in town, on Sunday afternoon, just the two of them, strolling in the vast woods that surrounded them. Belle wondered what kind of reception she would get.
But there was Mary. Grateful that she had slept through the scene, Belle was still apprehensive about her. Mary was the clean-cut type who would not only report such goings on, but insist that both girls be sent home. That would do it! One didn't send rich girls like Ginny and Andrea home without some explanation and the real one would just about finish Wood Dell. Belle knew all this and the weight of decision, several decisions, weighed heavily on her shoulders.
The single most annoying fact about her discovery was that she identified with both Ginny and Andrea. Like Ginny, she too had been seduced, not at a summer camp, but at a girl's school she had attended. And, like Ginny, it had been her best girl friend. Like Andrea, she had found the same pleasure in "bringing out" the latent sexuality of a young and innocent girl. Nostalgia swarmed over Belle as she went to bed alone.
Tomorrow she would have her hands full. She would wait and see how things developed. That was really all she could do. She hoped there wouldn't be any trouble. She prayed that there wouldn't be. It all depended on so many things and, not least of all, herself. With a sigh, she snuggled under her covers and hoped she would know what to do and be able to come up with the right solution.
Outside, a hunting owl soared past her window on silent wings and a few moments later there was the scream of a rabbit up on the slope as the captor found its soft throat with sure strong talons and a ripping beak. The night closed around Belle and she slept, with the moonlight casting long fat shadows across the floor of her cabin.
CHAPTER THREE
Belle was wrong about few things in her life, for she had a keen intuition. But she was wrong about Mary. The counselor had been awake during the whole scene between Ginny and Andrea. Wisely, though, she had feigned sleep, for she knew this was not the time to make her own tendencies known to her two bunkmates. All during the erotic love scene, though, her own body had ached to participate. She could hear the girls whispering, their bodies rubbing together, and their sighs as orgasmic ecstasy overcame them.
It had been almost too much for Mary Wells to bear. She was glad, though, that she had remained silent, for she had seen the figure of Belle Stern move away from the cabin in the moonlight, and knew that there must be some reason why the woman, the Camp Director at that, hadn't interfered. The knowledge that she had now made Mary's whole body tingle. It was wonderful, she thought, to possess secret information of this kind. It gave her an ace in the hole and she wasn't too sure that she might not need it as some time.
The camp situation was a close one and there were very few real secrets. Further, there were always suspicions about who was doing what to whom, although these were very seldom voiced aloud. There was tacit agreement that the real nitty gritty was only savored, not exposed for fear of "making waves." This was something that Mary had learned during her own years at camp, both as a participant and as a counselor. While this was her second year in authority, her own experiences as a young girl at camp had made her want to make a career out of it. A quiet young woman, she didn't like the pressure of city life, especially since she had found out about herself, much like Ginny had tonight.
After she heard the two girls go to sleep, Mary sighed and remembered her first experience at camp, four years before. She put her hand down between her legs and felt the matted hair, damp from the fluids that had seeped out while Ginny and Andrea had made love. She put her finger to the lips and parted them, found the tender clitoris hiding in hot damp folds of flesh. She began to gently stroke the tiny button as her thoughts took her back to that glorious day at camp when she had finally found herself, finally found out that while she was a shy, introverted kid, she was also a hot-blooded woman who could respond to sex with an abandon that would have surprised everyone who knew her.
Mary's "Andrea" had been her own counselor, a woman just barely twenty-one, who looked seventeen or eighteen, Cynthia Golden. Cynthia, so it seemed to Mary, lived up to her name. She was golden all over, from the tips of her toes to her long burnished hair. Her hazel eyes were direct and seemed to be filled with flecks of gold. Her skin was tawny and smooth. Slender and athletic, Cynthia personified the outdoors woman. She was quick and lithe on the tennis courts, proud and graceful atop a horse, smooth and sinewy while paddling a canoe. Mary adored her just because she was so beautiful.
The older woman felt that adoration and basked in its glow. Cynthia, at twenty-one, was very sensual, very sure of herself, with both men and women. But Mary's flattering idolizing of her brought her libido to a boil. Mary, young and attractive, just had to make a great bed partner in Cynthia's mind and she didn't waste time in pursuing that goal. She was a careful woman, though, and believed in subtlety. Indeed, this was part of her charm. Cynthia knew that discretion was called for at camp so she made no overt play for Mary. Rather, she found occasions where she could brush up against the younger girl and make it seem accidental. There were times when she could catch Mary's eye and establish a rapport between them.
Mary remembered these things later. At the time, she knew that every casual touch, every glance from Cynthia, every wink, sent tingles of excitement through her being. She watched the golden-haired girl at every opportunity and marveled at her grace and charm. When Cynthia smiled at Mary, her heart would melt and her knees go weak. Yet sexual thoughts had never solidified in Mary's mind. Cynthia was too much like a goddess for her to think of such a liaison. Still, thoughts of sensual and erotic contact were just below the surface of Mary's consciousness, waiting to be brought up over the threshold, savored exquisitely.
Cynthia bided her time, wanting the exact moment. She didn't want anything to spoil her overt advances to Mary. It didn't take long for that moment to arrive. When it came, Cynthia was ready and seized the opportunity. Mary remembered the day well, for it brought her into the arms of her goddess idol and tapped wellsprings inside her body that she had been largely unaware of until that time.
It happened on a Sunday. Most of the camp was busy with visiting relatives, or at breakfast. Cynthia had slept late and so had Mary. Mary arose first, however, and slipping into a robe, grabbed a towel and soap and slippered off to the shower. Cynthia watched her leave, and decided that the time was ripe to challenge Mary's latent desires. If she were wrong, then the incident could be chalked off to horseplay, but if she were right then....
Mary was already in the shower when Cynthia got there. She looked around the camp to make sure that she wasn't being watched before she went into the shower shed. Then she went to the stall where Mary was humming to herself as the water splashed over her naked body. Cynthia took off her pajamas and robe and stepped into the shower, nude except for shower thongs. Mary's eyes were closed and there was soap all over her face.
"Hi, Mary," Cynthia said softly.
"What? Who? Cynthia?" Mary spluttered, her eyes shut tight.
"Shh. Yes. Want me to scrub your back?"
"Oh, wow," Mary gasped, trying to clean the soap from her face. "I-I don't know. Gee."
Cynthia didn't want for Mary to regain her composure. She went right to work on the girl's back with soap and hands, lathering the smooth flesh with carefree abandon. Mary's blood raced as she felt Cynthia's hands glide over her shoulders and spine. She jumped and squealed when the blonde's fingers touched her buttocks. She would have turned around, then, but Cynthia's hands warned her from this. It was as though she were weaving a mood in the shower by rubbing Mary's back. She didn't want that mood to be broken by eye contact so she kept Mary's back to her as she kneaded soap and flesh together into one teeming mass of desire. Cynthia's hands went below Mary's buttocks. They soothed down between the younger girl's legs, to her ankles, then back up, slowly, moving firmly but caressingly over the calves and finally, to the crotch.
Mary almost fainted when she felt Cynthia's hand touch her pubes. But the touch was so soft, so ephemeral that her moment of giddiness passed. She knew now that Cynthia wasn't there just to help her bathe. She knew and her heart soared like a butterfly leaving its cocoon. Waves of desire flowed over her body like the shower water. When Cynthia's hand moved from between her legs and back up to her bottom, she felt herself pushing it out, eagerly, as though presenting herself for copulation like some female gibbon.
Cynthia felt Mary pooch her ass out and gave the girl's globes a squeeze with the palms of both hands covering the callipygian roundnesses, her fingers leaving white marks in the plump flesh. "Oh, oh," moaned Mary.
The blonde then pushed her own naked crotch against Mary's ass, moving her hands, once again, to Mary's back, pushing her so that she was forced to bend slightly. This caused Mary's butt to pooch out still further. She became conscious that Cynthia's box was next to the crack of her ass. She could feel the wet thick mat of pubic hairs rubbing against her flesh. Her blood tingled and she felt the juices of desire gather inside her vagina.
Cynthia bent her over still more and bent slightly backwards herself. This enabled her to make contact with Mary's soaked pussy. She began rubbing her own cunt against Mary's now, pressing tightly against it. The friction sent shivers of warmth through both of them. Mary bent over still more and Cynthia began to pound her own pussy against Mary's in the motions of coitus. Mary's vaginal lips began to swell and she responded with a counter rhythm of her own.
Mary felt Cynthia's hands on her hips, pulling her tighter against the latter's body. She delighted in the warm confrication of her pussy against Cynthia's, the odd feel of the other's flesh against hers. It was a totally new sensation, but one that seemed so natural, the way Cynthia had drawn her into it. She felt deliciously animal and carefree, because Cynthia had her hands on her flesh and was doing those marvelous fricative things with her now swollen pussy.
Finally, Cynthia turned Mary around and stood her up straight. Then she kissed the girl full on the lips, pulling her body close to hers. Wet as seals, they clung to each other under the cascading shower, their lips afire, their tummies flattened against one another. Cynthia's tongue parted Mary's lips and found hers inside. Mary felt as though her whole body had been set to the torch. She flamed in every fiber with Cynthia's deep tonguing kiss. She thought, at that moment, that this was the end of the love-play, that Cynthia was just kissing her as a sort of period to the parenthetical interlude. She kissed her idol back eagerly not wanting it to end as she believed it was.
But Cynthia's left hand traveled down Mary's arm, to her side, and down between her legs. Her hand first cupped Mary's cunt, then her finger found the wet slippery slit and slid inside. Mary jumped at this new sensation and very nearly fell, had not Cynthia held her tight in her arms. Cynthia's finger pried at Mary's vulva, then found the tiny budlike clitoris inside. Deftly she tickled its hooded head and felt Mary's body shudder as the first orgasm shook the girl's body. Mary gasped for breath and Cynthia increased her fingering of the clit. Mary's legs went weak and she surrendered her body to the older woman's embrace.
"Do you like that, dear?" Cynthia asked rhetorically.
"Oh, my God, do I!"
"Can you do it to me?"
"I-I'll try," Mary gasped.
Cynthia took her hand and guided it to her crotch. She separated the fingers and spread her legs so that one of them could enter her easily. Satisfied, she allowed Mary to explore her vagina on her own.
Mary didn't know what to do, but knew what Cynthia was doing to her, so she emulated the older woman's actions. She moved her finger in and out of Cynthia's hot wet cunt and was rewarded with low moans from the blonde. As her own excitement increased, so did the speed of her digital manipulation inside Cynthia's smoldering pussy. Cynthia spasmed as her first orgasm ripped her senses apart.
"Oooooh," she groaned. "Mary, you're doing it to me!"
Mary came again and her eyes closed as ecstacy surged through her body. Cynthia was spanging her button with nearly every stroke and Mary's frame bucked at each shot of finger-triggered orgasm. She hung on Cynthia as though all the bones had been removed from underneath her skin. She was limp and spastic, dancing on that educated finger like a puppet.
Cynthia gradually lessened her finger-stroking of Mary's clitoris and held on to the girl who was almost mindless with pleasure. She held her tightly and then pulled her out from under the shower. "Come on, Mary," she said, "let's go to the cabin and make love in my bunk. I want to eat your pussy so bad I can taste it."
"Yes, yes," Mary moaned, her eyes fluttering like demented butterflies.
Cynthia helped the girl towel off and told her to follow as she left the shower compound first, eager to continue what she had started. Mary did as she was told and tripped across the deserted pine-needle strewn yard to the cabin. Her body tingled all over and her heart beat a frantic tattoo. The moments in the shower had been so wild she had not thought about anything else. Now, she was afraid. Afraid that she wouldn't satisfy her idol. Yet, she was eager. Eager to have Cynthia's body close to hers again, eager to have the counselor do things to her that she had never even dreamed about before.
Cynthia was waiting, naked and clean, on top of her blankets. She smiled at Mary as she came, robed and sandeled, into the hut. She beckoned to the dark-haried girl and spread her legs, revealing the pink lining of her slit beneath the swampy mat of pubic hair. "Lie on top of me, lover," she whispered, as Mary threw her things to the floor.
"What if somebody comes?" Mary stuttered.
"Don't worry," Cynthia laughed. "We'll just tell them we're horsing around." Her arms opened and Mary came to her, trembling and pale. She lay atop Cynthia. They kissed and Cynthia put her arms around Mary, holding her tight. "Rub your pussy against mine," she whispered to Mary.
Mary began to rub up and down, feeling once again, the surging electricity of sex. Her mind still fresh from the tribadic ecstasy of the shower, her motions were vigorous. Cynthia responded with movement of her own hips so that their fricative form of fucking was mutually exciting. Mary felt her juices flow again, lubricating her pussy, dripping through her cunt lips to mingle with Cynthia's.
"Kiss me, Mary, kiss me," Cynthia whispered.
Mary bent her head and the two kissed passionately. They were oblivious to everything around them as they rubbed their pussies together. Mary didn't need any further coaching. She felt as though she had been born to this. Her hips were grinding in a circular motion so that she could achieve maximum contact with that wild and thrilling pussy of Cynthia's. She had, in fact, spread her pussy lips so much that her clitoris was exposed. Each time she ground deeper, the tip of the clit would touch the inner labia of Cynthia's and Mary would shudder with an ecstatic spasm.
Cynthia reached down then and spread her own lips wide so that her own clitoris could be touched by Mary's. As she did so, it slithered up through folds like a tiny succulent tuber. When the two clitorises touched, it was as though both women had been struck by a lightning bolt. They jerked with orgasm simultaneously, their bodies thrashing on the bunk like galvanized porpoises.
"Oh, my sweet Mary!" Cynthia gasped. "If you only knew what you were doing to me!"
"What about me, Cynthia? I've never felt anything like this before!"
"I know, dear, I know," said Cynthia as she continued to rotate her hips, seeking again that clit-to-clit contact that had triggered her last climax.
Mary had still not recovered from the jolting orgasm and so was not as energetic at first. Finally, though, both girls made clitoral contact again, but this time, instead of rubbing and grinding the way they had, they slowly rocked together. This time, their buds didn't lose contact, but swelled together like two tongues. The feeling in Mary's cunt was exquisite. It was as though someone had heated up a needle and were holding it against the sensitive member. Cynthia's mouth was slack as she concentrated on the feeling that she herself was deriving from the contact. Each time she moved, she felt Mary's clit rub hers and a series of tiny explosions moved through her flesh and veins.
Both girls lost track of the number of orgasms they managed in this way. Finally, though, Cynthia pushed gently on Mary's arms and the latter slid to one side. Cynthia rolled over and looked down into the girl's eyes.
"You were wonderful," she said. "The best I've ever had."
"I-I've never done this before, but you were wonderful, too."
"My darling Mary," Cynthia soothed, stroking Mary's dark hair with gentle hands.
"You're so very sweet," husked Mary.
They lay there for several moments, drinking in each other's beauty, then Cynthia began kissing Mary on the ears and neck. Mary felt the flush of flame once again as the older woman's kisses struck sparks from her bare flesh. Slowly, she spread her legs in anticipation of Cynthia's further stimulation of her hot throbbing cunt. She sucked in her breath and waited as Cynthia's mouth moved to her breasts, exciting the nipples, setting the areolas to flame with the quick spurts of her licking tongue. Mary's loins burned as she felt the tongue harden her nipples, then travel on over the swollen mounds and down to her abdomen.
Mary's body turned to a gelatinous mass of desire when Cynthia's mouth lingered on her tummy, the tongue probing her belly button a moment before continuing on down to her pubic thatch. The tongue, in the crater of her belly button, seemed to be a fleeting preview of oral pleasure yet to come, pleasure that Mary had never envisioned even in her most creative sexual fantasizings. She was not to be disappointed.
Cynthia's head and mouth moved farther down, down between Mary's still spreading legs. Mary's toes curled as she felt the moist tongue of her lover slither into her slit and find the waiting clitoris. Mary's whole body shuddered as Cynthia's tongue teased the tiny clit to a tingling feverishness. Her tongue there felt as though a goose quill were being slowly drawn across a raw nerve somewhere inside her pussy. As the blonde buried her head deeper between her legs, darting her tongue in deeper, Mary raised her legs spontaneously, delighting in the tonguing of her most excitable place. Her toes curled into tight knots as Cynthia held onto her legs which were almost wrapped around the older woman's neck.
Mary's breasts rose and fell with passion as Cynthia slurped and tongued her wet pulsing cunt. It seemed to her as though a thousand tongues were licking her insides: bull tongues and cat tongues, dong tongues and elf tongues, tongues of leather, tongues of feather, tongues of velvet and tongues of red-hot wire. Her body began to do a dance that was totally independent of her mind. It writhed and bucked on the bunk like some electrocuted cadaver. She threw her head back and felt her juices flow from her cunt as orgasm after orgasm wrenched the oils of love from deep inside her swollen pulsating pussy.
And still the tonguing kept up, now fire, now foam, sweet, stern, mellow, forceful, intermit tent, driving, up, down, around, in, out and over. Sometimes Cynthia would take the swollen little bud and suck it until Mary thought she would scream. At other times, she would tease it with a flick of her tongue until Mary arched her back and pooched her buttocks in an agony of desire for her to touch that pink root and make it quiver again and again like some hard-tapped tuning fork.
Cynthia seemed like a woman possessed. She never uttered a word, nor did she slack up on her tonguing of Mary's cunt. She licked and poked, slurped and sucked, driven on by some wild passion that only she could assuage. The more Mary's body bucked, the more she was spurred to cunnilingus with all its infinite variations. Her reward was excitement and multiple orgasms of her own. With each spasm of Mary's, Cynthia doubled her own pleasure. She was tireless and persistent, drinking in the musk and passion of her bedmate like a hungry wolfess lapping at her kill. It was all honey and wonder, delight and candied splendor; it was total gratification and the fulfillment of her body's wants and needs.
When it was over, both women were breathless and sated. Mary lay in a lassitude of sexed-up perspiration and Cynthia panted in an atmosphere of cunty perfume, heady as finely aged wine. Too exhausted to speak, too tuned in with each other to spoil it, they lay there for a long time as the sweat dried on their naked bodies.
Finally, wordlessly, they dressed and Cyn thia kissed Mary tenderly on the mouth.
"Thank you, dear," she said. "I enjoyed you very much."
"Oh, Cynthia," Mary breathed. "I don't know what to say."
Cynthia put a finger on Mary's lips and smiled. Then she was gone, leaving Mary alone to sort out her thoughts.
Mary sat on the bunk for a long time, her thoughts whirling with what had happened. She knew that some miraculous transformation had taken place deep within her, but she was unable to formulate any opinion pro or con about these myriad changes that seemed still to be going on.
Somewhere, she knew, in the back of her mind, she had hoped that love would be like this singing and joyous, full of summer and gold. But she had never dreamed that a woman, a lovely blonde woman like Cynthia, would be the one to give her that love. Now that it had come, though, she was no longer uncertain. She was sure of herself and sure of Cynthia. She was sure that this had been right. She felt the goodness and the Tightness of it all seep through her consciousness.
Mary knew, in her heart, that whatever love came after this would not be as good or as right or as exciting as this. There would be more of Cynthia, she believed, and in a sudden rush of revelation, she knew there would be others, after her. Mary had found herself, she felt, and she exulted in this discovery. It made her complete-as complete as she could ever hope to be. She was a lover of Woman and forever after in her life, she would dedicate her mind and her body toward that same kind of exquisite homosexual coupling that she had experienced with Cynthia. She would live for this kind of love, not only because it had been her first joy but because it had also been the best! Mary slept at last, her thoughts at peace.
Recalling those moments with Cynthia, the next morning, brought Mary back to the present. Cynthia had long since drifted out of her life, though not out of her heart. But, Ginny was in the present. Ginny, Mary's lips formed the word silently. What a darling girl, she thought, what a darling sweet girl!
She had been initiated much like she, Mary thought, although not with the same expertise or fervor. Andrea was too young herself, too inexperienced. Mary was positive that, now that Ginny's "cherry" had been broken, so to speak, she would welcome an experienced mouth and touch, a lover that could bring her to undreamed heights just as Cynthia had done to herself many loves ago. Andrea, too, Mary surmised, would be a thrilling partner, for she too, was stunningly beautiful.
As she lay there, still drugged with sleep, Mary caressed her body. She had manipulated herself te orgasm while thinking of the girls and Cynthia, but she was still unsatisfied. She felt vaguely discontented, cheated, because her wards had made love without including her. She wasn't that much older than they and it hurt to be left out, even though she realized that they could hardly know of their counselor's proclivities.
Mary comforted herself with the thought that her time would come. She must be patient, she told herself-and careful. Cynthia had gone overboard finally, and been caught-not with Mary, with someone else. The thought of that brought back an old jealousy that Mary wished she had forgotten. Cynthia had broken her heart, yet, as Mary recalled now, it was hers to break. Cynthia had owned it all at one time, and so could be forgiven for her later indiscretions.
Mary looked forward now to a new summer, a summer that seemed to be bursting with the promise of depthless love and sensational pleasures. She smiled warmly as she got out of her bunk, acting casual. She could already picture how she was going to make Ginny love her-the way she herself had been made to love Cynthia, once, so long ago.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ginny awoke. Her body tingled all over and for a moment she didn't remember where she was. Sunlight was just beginning to creep along the cabin floor and outside birds were chirping. She felt a sudden surge of exhilaration as she looked over the edge of the bunk and saw Andrea sleeping above. Mary's face, across the room, was hidden underneath the sleeping bag. A jay hopped to the floorsill and cocked his eye at a mote of sunlight.
It was good to be alive, Ginny thought, and lazily, she got out of bed and went outside. Smoke from some campfire drifted over the pine trees and she could smell bacon frying in the morning air.
Mary stirred too and Ginny spoke to her.
"Did you sleep well?" Mary asked.
"Beautifully, thanks," she said, and turned her head away. She was sure that the whole world could see that she had been made love to in the night. After she had done it, she was quickly bemused. This was silly. It didn't show. Did it? Her heart seemed to travel up into her throat.
Then Andrea wakened and Ginny's pulse quickened. But Andrea was as cool as the morning. She said good morning to Mary and to Ginny and gathered her things up for a shower at the communal bathroom. Ginny admired her, but at the same time she wished Andrea had given her some sign that what they had the night before was special. Maybe she should feel guilty, she thought. But she didn't. Her body was still exhilarated and the hot shower left her tingling.
After breakfast, they began the day's activities. First they had to clean up their cabin and then they had a class in practical forestry. Camp crafts came next, then lunch and lessons in horsemanship. The next day they were to take a short pack trip to make everyone comfortable for the longer one that was to come later. Ginny was excited at the program offered by the camp. Besides forestry and horsemanship, the activities included trail riding, arts and crafts, woodsmanship, exploring, trout fishing, taxidermy, photography, archery, lapidary, square, folk, and social dancing (with a neighboring boys' camp), modern dance, riflery, beach parties, hay rides, drama, campfire programs, and overnight trips with experienced guides.
There were horses, burros, and ponies at Wood Dell. They also had canoes, an archery range and fishing tackle, rifles and ammunition, a library, laundry, and acres of forest to roam in. Ginny began to believe she was in a paradise. Before the day was over she had decided that she had a huge crush on one of the counselors, Mark Grant, who was clearly the most handsome man there and had a sensuality about him that was apparent. He wore tight white jeans and a sweater that turned Ginny on. Of course, she knew that most of the other girls felt the same way, especially Andrea. That made it all the more exciting for her.
Nor was Ginny unnoticed by Mark. He was aware of her many glances, as well as those of Andrea. But he took note of them as more outstanding than the rest, but for the moment not to be acted upon. For the moment.
At breakfast, Ginny had felt disconcerted for a moment when, once again, she had felt Belle Stern's eyes on her. There was nothing she could put her finger on, but when their eyes had met, almost casually, it had made Ginny feel naked, exposed. Maybe it did show, she thought, but when she looked again at Belle Stern, the latter had been chatting with Mark Grant as though that was all that was on her mind.
In the rush of the day's activities, Ginny had thought no more about it, but at the community campfire that night, she had half-way flirted with Mark Grant while Mary sang folk songs. It was a way of ending the day that appealed to her, now that she had found her own sensuality. For Mark, it brought into his mind again the things he had tried to put aside. As he put it to himself that night, "there was a lot of cunt around ... and all of them eager."
Andrea had told Ginny, privately, before they went to bed, that they had better play it cool for a day or two. Ginny agreed, glad that her friend had not forgotten her. She was still elated over what had happened the night before and hoped that Andrea would come to her bunk again. She went to bed excited that night and long after she heard Andrea's and Mary's deep breathing, she was still awake. Somehow, she was hoping for something more, and at Wood Dell, she was almost certain she would find it.
The next night, at the campfire, Mark was more open toward Ginny. She felt it and was not surprised when he asked her, almost casually, if she'd like to go for a walk when things broke up. She gasped, but agreed, with a shy nod of her head. Mark's heart pumped in his chest.
"I'll meet you out by the gate, after the council fire is put out," he told her. He put his hand to his lips to indicate a pact between them. He knew he was taking a hell of a chance, but he had an answer ready. He was dedicated and he took an interest in the girls. He would tell anyone who questioned him about the irregularity, if it were discovered, that he didn't see anything wrong with a counselor talking to one of the girls or going for a walk. Neat. He hoped.
But Mark loved intrigue. He had played with deceit all his life. The more fraught with danger, real or imaginary, the more he liked it. Deception was a game he enjoyed more than the straight line. In the case of Ginny, a secret tryst appealed to him a great deal more than an open invitation and acceptance would have. Although he probably didn't recognize the pattern, Mark had always preferred the clandestine to the open.
As a boy, he always had a secret cache in his room where he kept the private things that he didn't want his parents to know about. At first these were only comic books, which his folks, Midwesterners to the core, despised. As he grew into puberty, these changed to condoms, "fuck books," those cartoon characters taken from the funny pages into the world of the flesh, and later on, certain selected girlie magazines and marriage manuals. The habit carried on into adulthood. Even living alone, when he had no real reason for such a cache, he had one. He was an avid reader of the back of men's adventure magazines and he collected many bizarre items from this and other sources.
He loved the dangerous side of sex as well. As a boy he had made love to his girl in the living room of her home. She was terrified because her parents might discover them at any moment. He was excited by the chance he was taking. After college, when he had long since left his Omaha, Nebraska, home on Park Avenue, he thrilled to secret meetings and danger-fraught trysts with married women. Once, in a hotel with a Swedish woman in Minnesota, her husband had come into the lobby with a gun. The frightened woman and he had raced down the stairs as the elevator was coming up. His last sight of her was as she leaped off the balcony, her long blonde hair streaming, into the bushes, and dashed across the street to her car-stark naked.
Once, in a Los Angeles movie house, on a dull afternoon, he had been sidled up to by a young girl in the balcony. There were a few people in the theatre, not many, but they were scattered all about. The girl had made the first advance, but Mark had carried it further. After putting his hand up her dress, finding her honey pot and bringing it to a juicy boil, he had pulled her panties off, performed cunnilingus on her while she jacked him off. It had been a satisfying afternoon, more exciting than when they had both left and gone to his pad and balled without benefit of an audience. The fact that no one in the theatre had known what they were up to made no appreciable difference. The main thing was that they could have. Mark's sensations were always heightened when the element of danger was present. He sought it out, found it a lot of the time and felt better for it.
After the council fire burned down and the last echoes of Mary and the group's singing of "Tell Me Why" had faded away, Ginny whispered to Andrea.
"Go on back without me. I'll tell you later."
Andrea gave Ginny a puzzled look, but Ginny wouldn't explain her cryptic statement. Andrea shrugged "okay" and walked back to the cabin with Mary, looking behind her every once in awhile. Ginny drifted away from one group behind a utility cabin and her heart in her throat, raced to the patch of woods near the entrance gate. It was so dark and her heart was beating so wildly she almost turned back. Why was she here, she asked herself. Was it wrong? Was it against the rules?
Mr. Grant had wanted to talk to her. That had been the thrill that had made her come here. Attention from him was something she had prayed for during the last two days. And why not? This was a girls' camp and Mr. Grant was fair game. You had to look at it that way. But Ginny began to lose her confidence. It was one thing to flirt, another to be faced with the resulting consequences of that flirtation. Just as she was about to call it off, turn and run, she heard the sound of footsteps soft on the pine needles.
"Ginny?"
"Uh, yes, over here," she gasped. "Hi. Glad you came. Nice night for a walk, huh?"
He was close to her now. He stood tall over her and the moonlight showed her his face. He looked boyish and she didn't feel so bad.
"Yeah, if we don't go far," she managed to say.
"Sure. It's late, anyway. I'm glad you met me, though." His voice turned serious. Ginny didn't know what to think, so she kept silent. They walked along the fence, the moonlight filtering down through the trees enough to show them the path that had been worn by many such walks.
For the first few moments they talked about small, inconsequental things, Mark asked her how she liked camp and about her family. He didn't tell her of his interest in the Reynolds name, but told her enough about himself to make it interesting, he hoped. She asked him if he had a girl and he told her no. Then he asked her if she had a boyfriend and she replied that she hadn't.
"You know, Ginny," he said, "I like you. I wish we weren't in camp as counselor and ward."
"I know what you mean," she said.
"It makes it awkward for both of us."
"You won't get in trouble, will you?" she asked.
"I hope not," he said. He stopped walking. Ginny stopped with him. He turned and quickly took her into his arms.
Ginny gasped and struggled. She broke free. "Oh, my God, Mr. Grant," she exclaimed. "Mark."
"I'm sorry, Ginny. I couldn't help that. I've wanted to kiss you since the first moment I saw you."
Ginny's heart fluttered in her chest. "You have?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, gathering her in his arms again. This time he kissed her more tenderly and he could feel her reserve melting. Her soft breasts crushed against his chest and he knew that he could have this girl-anytime and anywhere he wanted.
Ginny felt giddy from Mark's kiss. She finally broke off again, but gently this time.
"Ooooh, can you kiss!" she exclaimed.
"Look at my inspiration."
He was about to take the next step when their blood froze cold. They both heard it at the same time.
"Mr. Grant. Mr. Grant."
"Mr. Grant. Mr. Grant."
"Damn!" he exclaimed.
"Who is it?" Ginny whispered.
"Belle Sterne. Look Ginny, I'm sorry this had to happen at such a time. We'll have to go back by separate paths. I didn't realize how late it is. She'll probably want to go on bed check rounds, so you'd better hurry."
"Okay," said Ginny, fear almost paralyzing her.
"I'll want to see you this weekend. Your folks coming up?"
"No."
"Good. Sunday afternoon's free time, then. Will you meet me?"
"Well, I don't know."
"Aww."
"I guess so. Where?"
"Just walk through the gate and down the road. I'll pick you up. We'll go into town. Have a soda."
"Great," she beamed at him.
"Run," he told her, blowing her a kiss. Ginny ran back the way they had come and cut across the far parking lot. Mark walked slowly in a direct line to Belle Stern's cabin.
"Oh, there you are," Belle said. "I've been calling you."
"I know," said Mark. "I just took a stroll. I hope you don't mind."
Belle laughed. "Mind? No, but I wish I had gone with you. It's such a beautiful evening."
"Right. Well, you can still come."
"Let's walk by the cabins first. I'll feel better if I know everyone's tucked in."
"I understand."
They walked along together. At some of the cabins, they could hear girls giggling and at others, heavy breathing.
Ginny had tiptoed in, but Andrea was still awake. She told Ginny that Mary had wanted to go look for her but that she had told her Ginny had wanted to be alone to think about a personal matter before going to sleep.
"Great," said Ginny, undressing quickly.
"Where...?"
"I'll tell you later," Ginny said, popping into her bunk. "I'm beat."
Andrea pouted but she too was tired and she let it drop. She didn't even hear Belle and Mark as they strolled by the cabin. But Ginny did. She felt a twinge of jealousy just before she herself dropped off to sleep.
When they passed the cabin where Andrea, Ginny and Mary stayed, both Mark and Belle had strong feelings about it, although neither could have known that this was the case. Belle felt her sensuality rise in her when she thought of the scene she had witnessed there the other night. Mark thought about the soft young body of Ginny pressed against his only moments before. Belle impulsively reached for Mark's hand and found it as they walked away. She gave it a squeeze and Mark gave an answering squeeze. Belle flushed with the pleasure this gave her. Each of them became the live surrogate for their private thoughts. They would hardly have been tolerant of each other just then if they had known that both of them wanted the same girl for a bed partner.
But they walked hand in hand out into the moonlit pines, oblivious of each other's thoughts, brought together with a common need that must be shared. They did not speak, but strolled down to the lake together as if by a pre-arranged plan. The moon shot a silvery band across the faintly rippled waters. They stopped at the lake edge and listened to the lap of the waters against the shore.
"It's so beautiful out here," Belle finally said.
"It seems so unreal," he said.
"Yes, I know." She paused and looked up at him. "Mark, will you kiss me?"
He looked down at her. She was very appealing. Her full lips seemed ready and the shadows that hid her eyes made her most attractive in the semi-darkness. Wordlessly, he leaned down and put his lips on hers, lightly, not knowing at first how far she wished him to go.
Belle felt the tingle of electricity along her lips. The faint kiss stirred at her loins, tautening them, furring them with a delicate warmth. She pressed her lips harder against his and he was surprised at her softness. Her breasts flattened against his rib cage and he held her more tightly as their kiss went beyond lips touching. Her tongue parted his lips and found his. He made contact of his own and felt the excitement that he had imparted to Belle.
She gasped and broke the kiss, looking up at Mark. "Whew!" she exclaimed. "I had no idea you could kiss like that."
"You do all right yourself," he husked.
Belle brushed her hair back and looked at him as though trying to decide whether to let it go at that. Mark licked his lips while she looked at him, slowly letting his tongue caress his lower lip. That was too much for Belle. "You bastard," she said, low in her throat and threw himself up at him, her arms folding around his neck.
Their lips met again and this time there was no subtlety whatsoever. Belle's tongue flashed into Mark's mouth and intertwined his. Mark could barely breathe because he was being crushed by Belle's eagerness. Her breasts flattened against his chest and he could feel their softness spreading over his rib cage. Her thighs pressed against his and he wanted to reach his hand down there and grab her crotch. But he just held on and returned her kissing passion with his own, leaving her breathless when she broke, finally, again.
"I hope you're not a tease," he said to her.
"What do you mean?"
"You're getting me very aroused."
"Good. No, I'm not a tease. But I shouldn't have started this. It-it was a combination of things. The moonlight, the stroll, you, the air.
Oh, hell, I don't know. We shouldn't be getting involved like this, of course."
"But nature is nature, right?" He was almost mocking her. He knew she wouldn't back down.
"Yes," she sighed. "Dammit."
They both laughed and he put his arm around her waist. "Your room or mine?" he joked. He lived in a cabin with a male cook, two other young male counselors, and one of the wranglers.
"That would do it for Wood Dell," Belle said not entirely pleased with Mark's joke. But she took his hand and they strolled back up from the lake toward camp. A lone bullbat dived at them and then flared away into the darkness after insects floating on the moonlit air. The smell of pines and wood flowers was overpowering and Belle breathed deeply of the scents. Mark squeezed her hand to keep his presence known. He didn't want to let her slip away as Ginny had. He didn't want another disappointment.
"Meet me inside in a few minutes," she said. "In case anyone is up, it might look better. Come around to the back door and I'll let you in." She walked off across the compound to her isolated cabin. Mark turned toward his, but stopped in shadows and waited, before he got to it. He watched Belle go inside and turn on the lamp in the combination office-living room. Its glow looked very reassuring.
He waited several moments, then worked his way through shadows around to the back of Belle's cabin. Hers was the last one on that side and he could not be seen from the rest of the camp. He felt something like a thief, but his anticipation of Belle's charms was running fever high in his mind.
He tapped lightly on her back door, but it hadn't been necessary. It opened for him after the second tap and he slipped inside to a utility back porch. Belle brushed against him in the dark and latched the door after he was inside. She kissed him and took his hand. He was conscious of a rustle of soft clothing and he was not surprised to see, when they reached her bedroom, that she had slipped into a robe.
"Why don't you slip out of your clothes?" she asked. "I want to get next to that big hunk of body you have."
A Coleman lamp burned low near the bed. Mark took off his clothes, surprised at how feminine the room was, despite the rustic atmosphere and Belle's sometimes masculine appearance. He was pleased and when he had gotten out of his clothes, she was waiting for him. He moved to the bed and she turned the lamp out. The moonlight dusted the room with silver, lining her naked body with a soft glow. She smelled like rubbed wood and pine syrup, crushed green leaves and the cleanness of a lake breeze. He liked her and didn't even think about Ginny anymore as he lay beside her and closed himself in her encircling arms.
Belle's lips met his as he drew her body against his. Her first kiss was tender, supplicating, almost shy for a moment. Then, as warmth flooded them, the kiss became aggressive between them, hungry. Belle's mouth opened and their tongues met, twining, probing, firing deep passions within them. Mark's hand found one of Belle's breasts, kneaded it gently. The softness was undeniable. It yielded to his touch like damp clay, but warm like fresh hot dough.
Belle became almost savage then. His manhood rose like a stalk and she pressed her eager flesh against it. He could feel the springy bush of her nest rubbing against him. Her shoulders seemed wide and the way her body tapered down from them, there was a lot of woman for him. A lot of woman.
Her body pressed on his with an eagerness born of solitary nights, too many of them. His rod leaked precoital fluid and throbbed against her bush, trying to achieve entrance. Belle moved so that the tip found her lips, then rubbed her pussy up and down so that he pried the entrance, slid along the slot, but did not enter. It drove him mad.
Before he knew what was happening, Belle was the sudden aggressor. She forced his shoulders back on the bed and mounted him before he knew fully what was happening. Belle was atop him and was spearing herself on his lance. She looked down at their point of contact and grabbed his swollen stalk in her hand and placed it at the portal. Then she skewered herself on his lance and slid home on the pre-oiled track. Belle was riding on him, her arms straight out on his shoulders, pinning him down while pleasure transmuted itself along the connection.
Belle seemed to be almost oblivious to him". Her eyes were closed and she was concentrating on the sliding in and out of his enormous erection. She would move her hips from side to side to get the advantage of his total flesh inside her and when he stroked her button she would throw her head back and writhe for a moment, convulsively. "Ooooh, Mark," she moaned, over and over. "Oooh, Mark." He laid back and enjoyed the ease of the act, feeling pleasure, but not having to work for it. Belle slid up and down on his stalk with spasmodic movement, her pleasure obvious to him. Eyes closed, she pumped up and down on him with a singular purpose. He thought to himself that she was doing it like a job. She knew where her pleasure spots were and she had to assure herself that he would touch them. It was slightly unnerving, but not without pleasure.
Belle's mind, it was true, was of that bent. She was a woman who was used to doing things herself. She was perfectly willing to submit to a man in the accepted missionary fashion, but first she wanted to be sure that she had achieved satisfaction. Atop Mark, her thoughts swirled with thoughts of him, his cock and his body, but also with Ginny, the soft luscious girl she had seen taken in female love two nights before. Belle was all tangled up in her mind and her own body shook with the orgasms induced by Mark and his willing upthrust organ.
With her technique, she touched all the spots inside her. As his prick slid past her love button, banging home a shock wave that shook her body, she thrilled to the things a man could do for her again-it had been so long. Men were wonderful, if they were like Mark, and those were the kind she liked-purely sensual, exquisitely sexual. She could spot them. They didn't want a lot of gush and they didn't care if she took the aggressive role the first time aboard.
Mark watched Belle in fascination as she slid himself in and out of her. He could see his gleaming arched cock in the moonlight as it knifed into that juicy slit of hers. He was fascinated by the way she seemed lost in a world of her own, needing him but not caring if he himself drew any pleasure from the act. He supposed she was just hungry and had to get it all at once. In a way he was right, but it was deeper than that, he knew. Belle reminded him of a girl who had never had a normal childhood, who had never played house or doctor or post office but had grown up and found out that a man's organ could be an instant source of pleasure. But he was quite sure that in moments of need she would take any phallic object and bring herself to orgasm. Sex, he was certain, was like a drug to Belle, a tranquilizer. When she needed it, she took it, otherwise her life was full enough without it.
As suddenly as she had sprung atop him, Belle, in a hip-grinding shudder of orgasm, fell off, to his side, panting, her legs spread wide to receive him. Mark looked at her, her body beautiful and inviting, wide shoulders and soft legs. He looked at her for a moment, grateful that she had allowed him this subjugation for his own pleasure, and across her body, mounting her like a warrior delivering the coup de grace.
He slid home, delighting in the feeling of manhood this gave him. Belle's lips were parted sensuously and her eyes were still closed. She was like a sleeping woman, a woman at the point of death. She never opened her eyes except once or twice when a spasm of uncontrollable orgasm shook her body. He found all the buttons himself, all the delicate folds of flesh that felt so good to them both and in a final dash of quick hot thrusts, he took himself up to the heights, bringing her with him, and they tumbled over the abyss together in a shower of drumbeats and fireworks.
"Oh, my God, that was good," he moaned when his limp organ had tumbled out of her wet pussy in sated humiliation.
"Mmmm. Extremely good, Mark," Belle moaned, her eyes still closed.
He stroked her hair, played with her closed eyelids. He kissed her lightly on the lips, then got up. He knew that Belle was all through. She had had her pleasure.
"Yes, you'd better go," she said.
He knew better than to ask when they would make love again. He knew that Belle would call for him when she wanted him, and not a moment before.
"Good night," he said. "I know the way out." Bell was fast asleep and as he left he heard her beginning to snore.
CHAPTER FIVE
The first week at camp hurtled by with the force of a speeded-up movie montage for all of them. Ginny walked on a rapt cloud as though the summer itself had infected her with its subtle warmth and kaleidoscopic beauty. Mark quickly accustomed himself to the camp life and, sated somewhat by Belle, allowed himself to work hard and not think about Ginny too much. But he did think of her and when the weekend came, with its optional idle time, he made firm plans to be alone with her if he could.
On Saturday afternoon, planned events came to a halt and campers were left pretty much to their own devices. Sunday, too, was a free day.
Anyone could avail themselves of the camp's facilities, but campers could also go into town or loll around, explore, ride, hike, play games, read, or, if the truth were known, encounter more earthy pursuits among themselves. Saturday, then, was something to look forward to, and to Mark it was an eagerly awaited-for conclusion to his first week as a counselor.
Saturday caught Ginny unawares, almost. It hit her with an abrupt force as though someone had dashed a bucket of cold water in her face. The camp activities had kept her mind occupied, but now that free time was here, she was forced to face up to the many changes that had occurred in her life. Tomorrow, she knew, she was to meet Mark and her blood raced at that thought. Today, well, she could do anything she wanted, but Andrea wanted to go into town, and Ginny just wanted to let the fast pace of camp life drop away while she relaxed and thought to herself.
"You go on, Andy," she told her bunkmate, "and I'll go in with you next Saturday. Have a ball!"
"I will," Andrea laughed.
After the dark-haired girl had left, Ginny wondered if she had been right to stay back at camp, alone. Almost everyone else was climbing into the bus, chattering and eager to get into town. As the bus chugged off, Ginny was aware of the silence. The counselors were all having a meeting, she knew, and the camp was deserted, practically. Still, she had no desire to walk around, just yet. First she wanted to sort out her thoughts, gain a perspective that she felt she needed. So much had happened to her in so short a time.
Andrea's lovemaking, of course, had been the highlight of the week. Her girl friend had shown her that she had a well of sexuality within her that was awesome in its abundance and force. After that first night, Andrea had said they must be careful, so she had not done anything at night since that first time. And all the while, Ginny's body had ached to be kissed again, to be touched, inside and out, by Andrea's loving hands and mouth and flesh. Her dreams had been full of erotic images, strange shapes that made her awaken in the morning with vague yearnings for fulfillment-sexual fulfillment.
Then Mark, the handsome young counselor, had added to her discomfort. When he had kissed her she had felt still another sexual sensation, one that was totally different from the one she had felt when Andrea had first kissed her.
Today Ginny was wearing her white pleated miniskirt, a pastel blue sweater that emphasized her bustline, a matching hair band and "tennies," low-cut tennis shoes, white socks. She had played tennis that morning with Andrea and hadn't won a game. Mary Wells had beaten Andrea, though, smiling at Ginny after the set was over. Ginny liked Mary and was curious about her. She always seemed so friendly without being overbearing about it. She was also pretty and Ginny liked beautiful people. She liked Mary's self-assurance, the way she was always able to lead without being domineering, to guide without instilling rancor or making one feel inadequate. She was a good counselor, Ginny decided, and she felt glad to be in her hut, just the three of them. She was sure that if Mary did get hip to anything that she wouldn't fink on her or Andrea. Mary just seemed to be that kind of person.
Ginny sat there on her bunk for a few moments, ruminating, then got hp and put on a record. They had a portable machine in the hut and sometimes played records at night just to keep from being too homesick. It was Ginny's machine, but most of the records were Andrea's. For some reason, Ginny put on a record of Mary's-a folk album by Judy Collins. She liked the way Mary played the guitar and sang, and the record reminded her of Mary. She guessed that she played this one because she was sorry that Andrea was gone and knew that Mary was in the counselors' meeting. It helped to take away some of the silence and emptiness of the hut.
The music was soothing and helped take away some of the loneliness. Ginny lay back to listen, her legs bare, the mini falling just above her crotch. She closed her eyes and listened to the record, her thoughts meandering and spare. She wasn't there for more than a few moments when she was startled out of her solitary reverie by a voice.
"Like Judy Collins?"
Ginny blinked and looked up. Mary Wells was standing over her, still wearing her very pretty red-and-white tennis outfit.
"Yes, I do," she managed. "I think she's the greatest. She reminds me of you."
"Why, thank you, Ginny," Mary said, sitting down next to Ginny on the bunk edge. Ginny started to get up.
"No, don't move. I'd like to listen to this album too. I think she's the greatest, too."
Ginny smiled at Mary and lay there, listening. Mary looked at her, deep into her eyes, and Ginny was sure that it was more than the sharing of the music that was between them. There was a half smile on Mary's face, a look that was at once mysterious and wise, as though she knew something that no one else did.
Ginny began to wonder. Did Mary know about her and Andrea? She wanted to dismiss the thought from her mind, but she had to admit that the hut was small and Mary might have been awake. The possibility was there, all right. She tried to avoid Mary's eyes, but couldn't. She always was drawn back to them. They seemed to penetrate deep inside her. She smiled weakly and Mary smiled back. The music hummed over them as they remained there, their eyes locked together. Mary looking down at the beautiful Ginny, she looking up at Mary and wondering what was happening-or if anything was happening.
She did not have long to wait. Fire touched her knee. The chill bumps multiplied on her leg and seemed to go into her stomach, turning it into a twisted mass of wriggling worms. Mary's hand on her knee made Ginny's blood race. The surprise of it made her speechless. She merely looked up into Mary's eyes and at that maddening smile, her voice gone, her breath trapped in her breast.
As Ginny lay there, helpless with shock, Mary's hand slowly traveled up her bare leg. The grip was firm but light, as though the older woman were totally sure of herself and yet thought nothing of such tactile contact.
"You have nice legs," Mary said, her voice low. She twirled her fingers on the calf and Ginny began to feel lightheaded.
She didn't know what to say, so she kept still, looking at Mary whose eyes were now on her legs.
"You're nice all over, in fact," Mary said, once more looking at Ginny, a half smile sprinkled on her face.
"So are you, Mary," Ginny managed, her voice full of dry gravel.
Mary's hand went further up Ginny's calf. Ginny braced herself for what her mind was screaming would happen. She knew, she just knew that Mary was going to touch her pussy. That was the only reason she could think of her being there and acting this way. Ginny didn't know what she would say if Mary did touch her genitals. Would it mean that they would make love or was Mary just curious? Ginny wished she weren't so dumb about sex. Everything was happening so fast she didn't know what to say or do.
Maybe, she thought wildly, Mary was just being affectionate. Maybe she was just admiring her legs as she said she was. Maybe she was not conscious of what she was doing to Ginny.
Mary's hand, however, belied that last thought of Ginny's. It was traveling, still slowly, to the inside of Ginny's thigh, to the fleshy part of her legs, where they came together. Ginny felt a stirring in her loins. Mary's touch was not unpleasant. In fact it was decidedly delicious-erotic. Perhaps, Ginny thought, it was the slowness with which Mary touched her skin, the light firmness that she managed. Now she could feel Mary's hand rubbing the inside of her legs just below her crotch, warming the flesh. Then Mary was prying her legs apart, pushing first one then the other.
Ginny's pussy began to moisten with precoital juices. Her skin began to tingle and she felt the blood drain from her head. Her throat felt dry and voiceless. Her breasts began to ache dully at first, then sharper until the nipples became little centers of exquisite hurt.
The shock of what was happening, or what seemed to be happening, was greater than what had happened with Andrea, Ginny thought. Mary's hand between her legs seemed real. Even though she knew better, she felt she could not trust her senses. Yet her own juices were flowing and she knew that, once again, she wanted this ecstasy, this strange new world of sensual sensations.
Mary evidently sensed this, for, when Ginny's legs were pried apart, slightly, she placed a finger on the soft pneumatic bulge of the girl's crotch. With her other hand, Mary pushed back Ginny's short skirt so that her white panties were in full view as well as part of her bare tummy.
"You're damp," Mary said. "Does this excite you?"
"Yes," said Ginny, her voice sounding a million miles away to her.
Mary's finger traced a path on Ginny's panties where the lips divided.
"It excites me too," Mary said, a calming note in her voice. "You're very special to me and I'm glad you didn't go into town with the others. I wanted to see you alone when we had the chance. Is that all right with you?"
Ginny felt Mary's finger running up and down her crack. "Yes, Mary. But I don't understand. This is all new to me. So much is happening that I don't know what to think ... "
Mary broke in on her. "Don't worry," she said. "I know about you and Andrea. Of course it's new to you. But, it's just the beginning. You're a very desirable young lady, you know. And you have so much to learn, so much to give."
Ginny shuddered as Mary's finger poked a little deeper into her soaked slit. "I-I didn't know you knew about Andrea and me," she stammered, genuinely bewildered. Everything seemed to be happening to her at once-first Andrea, then Mark Grant's approach, and now, Mary Wells, her counselor! Ginny was dizzy with wonderment. All she knew for certain was that Mary's finger was driving her crazy-delightfully crazy. It seemed to tantalize her with its slow movement along the soft lips of her cunt. Yet it was still outside her panties, feeling like it was on fire and might burn through to her flesh.
"May I touch you underneath your panties?" Mary asked coolly, as though reading Ginny's thoughts.
Ginny nodded, too trembly now to trust her voice.
Mary smiled warmly and pursed her lips in a silent kiss. She then pulled aside the damp panties, without removing them, and touched Ginny's bare flesh underneath. Her finger continued to define the cleavage of the young pulsing cunt, running up and down the swollen lips with practiced finesse. The gentle rubbing was now even more exciting to Ginny and she wished that Mary would put her finger inside. That was where her flesh yearned for the counselor's touch. Will site never do it? her mind shrieked.
But Mary was in no hurry. She wanted Ginny to know what tenderness could be, what a woman's touch could do. Even though she herself blazed to penetrate that honey pot of Ginny's, she forced herself to proceed slowly and gently. Yet each time she stroked the up and down groove of the girl's pussy lips, her finger moved a little further inside the crack until it was traveling along that oiled inner lining where a hundred sensations crackled and tingled within Ginny's vagina.
Ginny, expressing her need and her desire, spread her legs a little wider. Mary smiled, pleased at this response. She continued her labian ministrations, each time parting the lips more, feeling the hot moist inner lining with her finger as well as the swollen walls surrounding her finger at each deep probe. Ginny wanted to scream-it felt so good!
Still, Mary didn't hurry, even though her own fevers were beginning to rage between her legs. Instead, she concentrated on her technique, taking delight in the soft lubricated lips of her young charge. It seemed to her that Ginny's vagina was actually growing in size as she stroked its outer portal, its inner membrane. As her finger glided over the puffed tissue, she was sure that Ginny's vagina was trying to suck the finger inside, to swallow it like some predatory sea anemone.
Ginny's body began to move in an almost imperceptible rhythm. Mary felt this too and moved her hand over Ginny's cunt so that her finger could penetrate more deeply. So far she had just penetrated less than an inch inside the steaming cooze. Finally, as Ginny's hips rose and fell, Mary slipped her finger into the hot gushing entrance and moved it in a circular motion so that it would touch all the sensitive spots. Ginny spasmed as the finger grazed against her clit. She felt as though she had been plugged into a light socket.
Mary smiled again, knowing now just where Ginny's eager little clit was located. She probed deeper with her finger, wanting to feel as much of her ward's love tunnel as she could. A few seconds later, while her finger was buried deep inside the vat, the smile on her face froze. Puzzled, she probed deeper and wider with her finger. Then she gave Ginny a long look. "Why, Virginia Reynolds," she chuckled,'"! wouldn't have believed it!"
"What?"
"You're a virgin! You're an actual, solid, blue-blooded, gold-plated, one hundred percent, genuine, unadulterated, twenty-four carat virgin!"
Ginny blushed a salmon pink. "I know," she said dejectedly. Mary chucked her under the chin. "Hey, don't fret, honey. I'm not knocking virginity. I'm just surprised, that's all. I thought you had had some heterosexual experience, but I guess I was wrong. Don't you like boys?"
"Yes, I do, but I just haven't gone to bed with any of them, that's all," she said wryly.
"Never mind," soothed Mary, sensing that Ginny was beginning to take the defensive. "Let's not talk about that anymore right now. I was just amazed to find that your hymen, your maidenhead, was still intact. That's very unusual these days with girls, no, young ladies, of your age, especially if they're as pretty as you. Most girls have trouble holding on to that silly piece of membrane. But, who cares, virgin or no, I like you, Ginny. I like you and I think I can make you happy. Like me to try?"
"Uh huh," Ginny assented, her body still tingling with Mary's touches, wanting her to do more.
"I won't do too much right now, Ginny," Mary said. "There's too much risk. Someone could walk in on us at any time. But, I want you to night and I'd like to give you a little preview of what you might expect. Okay?"
"Okay."
Mary snaked Ginny's panties down to her knees. Fondly, she gazed at Ginny's nicely shaped box, admiring the way the hairs were thin up toward the tummy, then thickened lower down. Ginny's vaginal lips were fat and saucy, the cleavage well defined. Her legs were perfectly shaped, not too fat, not too thin. Mary pulled the panties the rest of the way off, gripped suddenly with a desire to place her tongue inside Ginny's sweet little cunt. Mary bent her neck gracefully, dipping like Leda's swan to Ginny's private parts.
It was then that they both heard the voices nearby. Quickly, Mary stopped her motion and indicated that Ginny should put her panties back on. The voices died away as Ginny was smoothing her skirt and hair. Mary had stepped a few paces away, busying herself with straightening a bunk. The footsteps clumped on the porch and then the door opened.
It was Mark Grant. "Oh, hi, girls. Mary, Ginny. I thought I'd find you here. Mary, Belle wants to see you about something when you have a minute."
Mary smiled. "I'll go right away," she said.
Mark waited until she had left before he spoke to Ginny. "I just wanted to make sure you and I had a date for tomorrow. You haven't changed your mind, have you?"
Ginny blushed self-consciously. "No, I haven't changed my mind. I'd like that very much."
Mark looked at Ginny's well-turned legs. Their loveliness was enhanced by the short white skirt. He felt a twinge at his crotch and knew that he wanted her very much. "Good," he smiled, dimples perforating his strong square chin. "We'll have a ball, just the two of us."
"What are we going to do exactly?"
"Oh, a picnic. Go somewhere secluded. Have some wine, drink in the beauties of nature. Forget about camp and the cares of the world. Okay?"
"Sounds great," Ginny grinned.
"Oh, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention our excursion to anyone else. They might get the wrong idea."
"Or the right idea," she quipped.
"Right on, Ginny," he said. "I have to get back too, but just wanted to confirm things. Have a good day. I'm swamped with paperwork."
"Sure. See you tomorrow."
"Meet me where we walked before," he told her.
"I will."
After he left, Ginny changed into slacks. She knew that Mary would not do anything more to her today. The interruption had broken the spell. Still, she had promised that tonight would be better and that was something to look forward to. In a way, she was glad that Mark had broken in on them. The daytime just wasn't as romantic as the night, at least in this cabin where it was so airy and the privacy was almost nonexistent. She would have died if Mark had caught her letting Mary do those things to her. She would have just died.
Mark had a funny feeling as he walked back to his quarters. It was just a feeling, but he was sure that it had some validity. Mary, whom he would have thought to be a man chaser, if anything, had her eyes on Ginny. He was sure that something had been going on in the cabin before he'd gotten there. Could it have been? He wanted to dismiss the thought, but had to admit that the feeling was quite strong. It was the silence in the cabin more than anything. The composed look on Mary's face, the reticence of Ginny.
But, he wouldn't dwell on it. People did odd things when they got away from home and he was no different. Still, he wouldn't like to see a beautiful young chick like Ginny go lez before she'd had the chance to taste the delights of a masculine lover. That was another reason why he looked forward to seeing Ginny tomorrow. He wanted her in the worst way, for several purposes. There was her father and the job, the chance to rise up in the world. If he made the girl fall in love with him, then his worries would be over. He could see a vice-presidency and a home in Trusdale Estates looming on the horizon.
But, even if not, there was something totally sexual about Ginny. And part of her charm, he knew, was that she seemed largely unaware of the female magnetism she exerted. There was a primitive earthiness about her that spoke to the male of the species that here was a young woman eager for sexual conquest.
Women, too, he thought wryly, were probably turned on by Ginny's sensuality as well. He didn't blame them.
He thought, then, of Belle Stern and it struck him that Belle would probably be attracted to a girl like Ginny, too. He was sure that Belle was AC-DC. She seemed to be a woman who was a machine about sex-when she wanted it, she took it, no matter who it was. She seemed to be a woman who would take the first man, woman, or thing that was handy and employ it to achieve sexual gratification.
Well, who of us is not that way, he asked himself. We are all creatures of the flesh and never outgrow our need. If anything, he mused, we become more in need of it the older we get. Belle was a mature woman, in her prime, and she probably had sex of some sort many times a week. If there were no one around, then there was herself and he was sure that she had no qualms about getting a quick orgasm if the need became too strong, even in the midst of all her burdens and responsibilities.
Life was a funny thing, he thought as he arrived at his cabin. Everybody wants sex but they play a thousand games with it to keep it fairly out of sight. People sure didn't know what was good for them. Here everybody wanted to get laid yet there were so many rules and games surrounding this most basic human activity that a lot of people didn't get any, enough, or as often as they would like it.
As Mark surveyed the forms he had to fill out, he let out a gasp of air. Names, names, names. Only a few of them meant anything to him. Ginny. Andrea, Belle Stern. Mary Wells? He didn't know. She was interesting. Might be worth a try, after he had found out what Ginny was like. He knew Andrea was a pushover.
"Man," he muttered, "maybe they ought to put down fornication as one of the camp activities. It looks like there might be a lot of extracurricular fucking going on!" He laughed aloud as he sat down, feeling good, feeling damned good.
CHAPTER SIX
The campfire in the main lodge was a mass of burning embers when Mary nodded across the room to Ginny. They had both lasted through what seemed like hours of agonizing talk after supper so as not to appear too eager to be alone. Mary had entertained the small group, Belle, Mark, some other counselors and a few of the kids, with some popular songs but her heart hadn't been in it. Her mind was on Ginny and the delights that awaited them once they had gone to bed in their cabin. Finally, after interminable good nights and endless hand waving, she found herself walking across the assembly compound with Ginny. The stars peeked from behind cottony puffs of clouds and the moon slid noiselessly between the tops of tall scented pine trees.
"It's a lovely evening," Mary said, as they walked to their cabin, not rushing, not going too slow.
"Simply beautiful, Mary. It's so peaceful up here. I don't ever want to leave."
"I know how you feel. It grows on you."
They undressed in the dark, both of them aware of their breathing in the silent cabin. Ginny, slipping out of her jeans and lumberjack shirt, felt a wicked tingle all over her body. The moon limned her bare flesh with a soft glow as she stood in the semi-dark waiting for Mary to take her hand and guide her to her bed.
Mary could see Ginny's sweet young figure out-lined by the soft moonlight. She felt a tug at her loins at the breathtaking spectacle it presented in the shadowy room. The pine scent permeated the cabin, perfuming it like some exotic garden of delights. All the hours of waiting seemed to heighten Mary's feelings at this moment as she looked at the object of her desire. Her breasts tingled in anticipation, her loins seethed with a promising stir of nervousness. She wanted Ginny now and realized that never had she wanted anyone so much.
Mary glided across the room and took Ginny in her arms, then. Their bodies melded together in the moonlit shadows of the cabin like twining vines. Ginny felt secure in Mary's clasping arms, though she didn't realize why, nor care. She had been so hot that afternoon and so unsatisfied since then that she was more than eager for Mary's caresses. She huddled there in the counselor's arms, trembling with the beginnings of excitement. Mary's bare skin against her own was thrilling and she felt needed and wanted.
Mary held Ginny in her arms for several long moments. She could feel the faint trembling of Ginny's rounded tummy against her own and the latent eagerness of her flesh. The two seemed frozen together for those few precious moments, delighting in the crush of each other's naked warm bodies. Then, Mary took Ginny's head in her hands and kissed her on the mouth.
An electric tingle surged through Ginny. She felt her legs go weak, her heart begin to pound wildly in her chest. Her breasts heaved and touched Mary's, the nipples hardening at the unexpected touch. She moved her tongue to meet Mary's and when she encountered it, her excitement rose like a tide.
Mary held the kiss for a long time, then released her hold on the girl, looking into her eyes, which were shining bright in the half dark. "I want to love you, Ginny," she whispered.
"Love me, Mary," Ginny replied.
Mary stepped away and took Ginny's hand in her own. She led the girl to her own bunk and kissed her again, briefly, excitingly. "Lie down, my love," she said, her hands guiding Ginny to the middle of the bunk.
When Ginny had lain down, Mary looked at her, drinking in the ripe contours of her young body, the lush full breasts, the inviting thighs with their thatch of pubic hair. Mary took a deep breath and smiled in the darkness. "Spread your legs, Ginny," she said.
Ginny did so, feeling a sudden tingle at Mary's words.
"I want to kiss you there first," Mary said, coming to a kneel between the girl's spread legs.
Ginny waited as Mary bent down, her head coming to rest between her quaking legs. Carefully, gently, Mary parted the pubic hairs and put her mouth to Ginny's pussy lips. The musk of the girl's vagina smelled sweet in her nostrils. The softness of the labial lips were yielding to her lips as she placed them there. She felt Ginny's hips buck slightly as she darted her tongue into the spread crack where it was already moist in anticipation of the sexual act.
Ginny's mind spun and she felt a fire in her cunt. She was weak all over, yet there was an incandescent exhilaration that suffused her body, as though she had been bathed in a jostling whirlpool bath. Her woman's juices began to excrete inside her intimate parts, lubricating her vagina with the oils of loving.
Mary's vibrant tongue searched through the swollen pulsing fibers of Ginny's cunt until it found the tiny bud of her clitoris. It stabbed and stroked the small button until it had drawn it, hard and yearning, from its hiding place. Mary felt Ginny's loins ripple as though shook by a diminutive earthquake as she aroused the clit with her lingual expertise.
"Oh my, oh my," Ginny gasped.
Mary dove deeper and harder with her tongue, feeling her own insides gush with oleaginous fluids. She grasped the girl's legs in her hands so that she could penetrate that hot little pussy even more. The night seemed to close around them as they lay together on their little island of passion.
Ginny lay there in a rapturous haze created by Mary's tongue. Each time her clit was touched, she soared off into a world of exploding rockets and dazzling lights. In between spasms, she floated in a haze of euphoria, relaxed and content, as though pure morphine had been injected into her veins. This was much much better than her experience with Andrea. Andrea had opened up certain floodgate, but Mary was filling her dry stream beds with new rivers, ones that raced and surged within her, carving new paths, flowing endlessly and deep and wide.
Ginny wasn't quite sure when the first orgasm rocked her. There was so much pleasure coming to her from her throbbing pussy that she couldn't isolate any specific part of it. She just knew that suddenly she was no longer in control of her body. Mary's tongue seemed to be as big as a sausage and it was swabbing her clitoris so fast that she just came and came like a geyser. She didn't know if she were screaming or whispering, awake or asleep. She just felt as though she were suddenly thrust into a large empty space where there was pleasure so diffuse and intense that it pervaded her entire being. She was everywhere and nowhere, up and down, inside out and wrong side up. It was a world of pure sensation and blocked off all reason, all concentration.
Mar was aware of Ginny's excitement. She could hear her moaning above her and could feel her cunt writhe and change shape inside, seemingly, as her tongue fought to keep the clit's cowled head from losing tactile contact. She sucked it, mouthed it, and licked it until her jaw was tired. The pleasure she herself received was wonderful enough. She knew she had come at least twice, mildly, and was pleased. Mary was a girl whose orgasms built in intensity. They started off quietly enough, then, with each succeeding one, they became more powerful until she was turned into a maniac, mindless with ecstasy.
"You make me very happy, Ginny," she said, after a bit, sitting up between Ginny's legs. "I think it's time that you follow your own head. Do you have any objection to kissing me between my legs? I mean like I just did to you?"
Ginny cleared her head. She was still in a daze from the series of climaxes that had wrung her out like a dishrag. She remembered Andrea and how it was to eat her pussy. Now, Maly was asking her to do the same. She knew that this would take her into a deeper world of pleasure and she was eager to please Mary who had so pleased her a few moments ago.
"No," she said finally. "I'll do whatever you want me to. I mean I want to do it, but you'll have to help me get started."
"Don't worry, Ginny. Just put your head down there and I'll do the rest. Okay?"
"Okay," Ginny agreed trustingly.
The girls changed places on the bunk then. Ginny arose and Mary took Ginny's place. She spread her legs wide and beckoned for the girl to get between them. She then took Ginny's head in her hands and showed her, by hand pressure, where she should go. Ginny scooted back on the bunk and dove for Mary's muff. She could see the contours of it in the light that came in the cabin from the moon. She felt her own pussy twitch as she made oral contact with the pussy of the older woman.
"That's fine, Ginny, fine," Mary cooed. She spread her lips for Ginny by holding them apart with her hands. "Just put your mouth between my lips and then use your tongue to find my clitoris. It's there, waiting for you."
Ginny did as she was told, remembering Andrea's muff coming over her face that other night that seemed now to have been so long ago. But her lips touched the pink flesh of Mary's open cunt and the musk rose up to assail her nostrils. Gingerly, she put her tongue into the folds of flesh and began to lick the soft membrane. She felt Mary's body shudder and was encouraged to delve deeper with her tongue. She eagerly found the hole and ventured inside, searching as Mary had, for the tiny tuber that brought so much pleasure.
"Oooooh," Mary moaned. "That's so exquisite, so groovy, baby. You're close. I can feel you. I can feel your tongue going in me, like a knife, like a sweet hot knife. Oh, there, Ginny, there. You just brushed against it. Oh, yes, sweet girl, right there! You've hit it!"
Ginny was excited at what she was doing. Mary's talk helped. She felt as though she could make Mary happier than she had ever been before. When she found the clit, she knew what it was. It was like a small pea that had to be urged to come out of its shell. She tongued it and felt Mary's legs draw up around her head, tightening and loosening with each surge of pleasure.
"Oh, Ginny, doll, you are doing it to me!" Mary sobbed softly, almost delirious with delight. "You are tonguing that little bell like nobody ever has. Try to suck it, sweet, try to draw it up into that hot mouth of yours. There, that's right. Oh, man alive, but you're making me cooome!"
Mary's body shook as though it were on a roller coaster. Her legs went straight up in the air and Ginny dove deeper, her face buried in the crotch, the hard beak of the clit between her lips where she held it, her tongue grazing across it ever so maddeningly slow. She felt as though she were an expert already. She knew what to do. She knew what Mary's mouth and tongue had done to her and she was duplicating it. Mary's writhing response was proof that she was able to give love as well as receive it.
Mary thought of the young beautiful woman tonguing her. She had to admit to herself that Ginny was quite the most lovely thing that had ever happened to her. She was not only beautiful, but she was eager to please. Her mouth and tongue on her cunt had very nearly made her pass out. It had been so long since she had been with another woman and she hadn't realized the extent of her need and desire. Now, as Ginny tongued her pulsating clitoris, she knew that, at last, she had found not only a lover, but someone she could fall in love with, someone with whom she wanted to spend all her free hours. It would be sad, she thought, if she let a girl like Ginny get away from her. She was everything she had ever imagined in a lover. As she gushed with orgasm, her body trembling with the nervous splendor of the short stabbing climaxes, she wanted suddenly to take Ginny in her arms and run away with her, through the forest, up to the mountain top where no one could ever find them.
It was silly romantic notion, but that was the way she felt just then. She knew, in the deepest part of her mind, that it would be a long time before she would ever find a girl, a woman, like Ginny Reynolds. The memories of her own "coming out" were still vivid in her mind, but she knew that she had never been like Ginny, never been able to generate such intense pleasure with any of her partners.
"Oh, Ginny, stop now, baby, stop before I pass out," she said finally, wanting with all her heart to hold the girl in her arms, to feel her lush breasts against her own, to rub her cunt against Ginny's.
Ginny stopped, surprised, afraid that she had hurt Mary or had done something wrong.
"I-I'm sorry," she said.
"Why? You were just perfect, Ginny."
"I thought maybe that I didn't please you."
"Oh, you did, sweet one, but I want to hold you in my arms. I want to kiss you and feel all of your body. Don't you?"
Ginny looked up at Mary whose face was half in shadow, half in silver from the moon. "Oh, yes, Mary, I do. You've made me very happy. I want to be with you so much."
Mary wondered if she would always feel this way. A pang of jealousy stabbed at her. She suddenly hated Andrea for being the first, for bringing Ginny out before she had. It was stupid to think about this, she knew. It had happened and that was that. There was no changing the past. Still, she felt very possessive of Ginny already because she knew the girl was one in a million, one in ten million.
She drew Ginny to her, pulling her up over her spread legs and wide-open cunt, until she was on top of her. Then she put her arms around her and squeezed her tightly, feeling the weight of her crushing her breasts. She sought her mouth and found it, wet and tasting of her own pussy. She kissed her, mingling the juices of saliva and cunt fluids in their mouths. This was very stimulating to Mary and she held Ginny even tighter as she tasted the oils of her own sex in the girl's mouth.
Ginny enjoyed Mary, at the moment, more than she had enjoyed Andrea. For one reason, she felt that Mary was "authority" and therefore this sex act had more sanction than the one with Andrea. For another reason, Mary was obviously not just another chick out for rough kicks, like Andrea was. Mary was real. She was a woman and she loved like a woman-all the way, thinking of her partner, not just using her. This is what Ginny reasoned as she engaged in mouth to mouth kissing with Mary. She loved the feel of Mary's supple body against hers, the free contact of flesh between them. While it was a new experience, it was also one that she had longed for, subconsciously at least, for all her young years.
Ginny had never disliked boys, she had just been too sheltered by her family and their money and by her own proclivities for learning. She had petted and "messed around" but she had never gone "all the way." Now, after Andrea, and with Mary, she looked forward to sexual contacts with a kind of poignant longing for what she had missed and for the challenge and the adventures they promised to bring.
As she was being kissed by Mary, Ginny felt a change. Mary was thrusting her box up to hers and the feeling was both strange and thrilling. She could feel the bony pressure of Mary's cunt pressing upward and her own cunt responding to this. She was amazed at how her own lips seemed to flare, opening to this other woman's cunt as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Ginny felt as though the entire inside of her pussy was being slowly peeled inside out to present itself. Indeed, Mary's deft manipulation had pried apart her pink cunt lips so that she was aware of sensations that she had never experienced before.
Suddenly, without warning, Mary turned over, flipping Ginny over on her back. Then she was mounting her, rubbing cunt against cunt once again, this time more aggressively. Ginny was breathless from the quick change of positions which took no more than a moment. Now she could see Mary looking down at her, panting, her mouth open, her eyes glassy. The rubbing became more intense. Mary was very wet and her juices flowed down into Ginny's pussy, helping to lubricate that part of her even more than it already was.
"Oh, Mary," Ginny sighed, "that feels so good. I can feel all of you pressing against me, inside me."
"I know," said Mary. "I can feel it too. We seem to be matched to each other. We fit very well, you and I."
Ginny's body shuddered with orgasm again as Mary pressed even harder.
"Touch my breasts," Mary told Ginny.
Ginny reached up with both hands and took Mary's pendulous globes in her hands.
"Rub them, doll, rub them and squeeze them. Make my nipples hard."
The blonde girl, her hips moving now in counter rhythm to Mary's grinding friction, held the soft teats in her hands, delighting in the feel of them. She could sense Mary's growing excitement as she kneaded her breasts, tweaking the nipples every so often. They grew hard in her fingers and Mary increased her tribadic actions at the loins.
"Kiss the nipples now," Mary breathed, leaning close to Ginny's mouth.
Ginny reached up and took a nipple between her lips. She tongued it as she had Mary's clit and felt the button harden even more. The woman on top of her shuddered again as she reached still another climax. Ginny felt herself flooding again and popped two quick orgasms to Mary's one.
"If you only knew how tremendously good that feels," Mary said, her voice deep in her throat. "It's like being pricked by a needle, but it doesn't hurt that way. Your tongue seems to go right through my breasts and down to my cunt. Now do the other nipple, will you?"
Ginny changed to the other breast and once more she felt Mary shake with orgasm. Each time she did this, Ginny had two short spasms. She felt very wet inside her and very thrilled that all this was happening to her. She was more relaxed than she had been with Andrea and more sure of herself. She knew that Mary was experienced because of the way she moved and handled everything. Now Mary was kissing and sucking her own breasts and she thought that she had never felt anything so exquisite. She knew now what Mary had meant about the needle. She could feel the same thing. Her body responded to this by experiencing a series of orgasms that made her skin tingle. She felt as though her whole body had broken out in a mild rash. She was sure that her skin must be strawberry colored from the excitement that the older woman was generating. She felt flushed and hot all over, especially around her ears and neck and cheeks.
Mary knew that, despite Ginny's present state of excitement, she had not yet reached the limits of her ardor. There were so many things that two women could do together that were thrilling and she had only scratched the surface with her young cabin mate. Ginny was eager and erotic so that Mary felt that the sky was the limit. One thing she had learned, too, was that when she turned a girl on, she was turned on. Now that she was kissing and suckling Ginny's lovely young breasts, she could feel still more excitement build up in herself and in Ginny. She was soaked with the fluids of their lovemaking, and knew that Ginny was too. Still, there were really no limits to the heights they both could reach if Mary used even a few of her many tricks-tricks she had learned from other women and girls during the past two years or so.
Ginny's breasts seemed to swell as Mary continued her labial attack. She would put all of a breast in her mouth that she could, then lave the area with her tongue, scribing circles with her tongue, large at first, then smaller and smaller until she had just the nipple under siege. Then her tongue worried the tiny mouth of the nipple until she had Ginny dancing in bed with the rhythm of orgasm and pure sensation. They had stopped rubbing each other because they were concentrating on the oral aspect of their lovemaking so much.
Then Mary reached under her bunk., Beneath was a small cardboard box. She fumbled around and pulled out the object she was seeking. In the dark, Ginny didn't know that Mary had done this. Instead, her eyes were closed and she was panting at the oral laving her breasts were receiving from Mary.
Suddenly Mary stopped. "I want you to relax, Ginny, and keep your eyes closed. I'm going to turn you on with something that will blow your mind. Okay?"
"I guess so."
"It won't hurt. You'll love it," Mary promised. Ginny kept her eyes closed and waited. Mary spread Ginny's legs again and looked down at her soaked pussy. She rubbed it with her hands and pried open the lips with a careful finger. Already she could feel her own loins stir with erotic excitement. She knew that Ginny was going to love the next few moments and after that she would be totally committed to giving her body to Mary.
Mary knew what it was like. She often used the same device when she had no sex partner and was desperate for sex. She put the vibrator, shaped like a small phallus, inside Ginny's vagina, next to the clitoris. Then she flicked a button and turned it on. It began to. hum and she leaned over and kissed Ginny lightly on the lips.
"What?" Ginny asked, startled at the odd sensation she felt in her cunt.
"A vibrator, Ginny. Wait. Let it happen to you. See how you like it."
"All right."
Mary began to move the vibrator in and out and up and down. Its pulsating action began to work its magical effect on Ginny. Her eyes went wide and her mouth went slack. Mary watched the change occurring and smiled. She knew that no one could resist the power of the little white tube.
Ginny felt as though someone had plugged her into a wall socket. The vibrator sent a charge through her unlike anything she had ever known before. Every time it touched her little clit she came. Soon she was writhing back and forth on the bunk with no thought in her mind except that the pleasure must not stop, ever. She drew her legs up to her belly and then pushed them back down. She rolled to one side, then the other. Mary was doing things with that little bullet that seemed to open up Ginny until she was all raw nerves and sensations, a gaping cunt that was being electrified by the deft manipulation of a mechanical cock.
"Oh, don't stop, Mary, don't stop it. I'm coming all the time now!" Ginny shrieked.
Mary didn't stop. She poked the vibrator deep inside Ginny's cunt, moving it around like a flashlight. She jabbed it against the clitoris and up to her maidenhead. She rubbed it up and down the sopping slit and on the outside, between her thighs, up to her tummy and down to her puckered asshole. She delighted in the sadistic aspects of it and, before she realized she was doing it, had a finger in her own cunt hole banging her clit to a fare-thee-well.
Soon she had Ginny screaming for mercy. The vibrator had done its work. Mary took it out of Ginny's cunt and then took her in her arms.
"Did you like that?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," said Ginny, "but it's just too much. I mean I came until I thought I'd go mad. What a wild thing that is."
"I'll get one for you, if you'd like."
"Wow! Outta sight!"
Mary laughed. She felt young and happy herself. Ginny was contagious.
"Shall we go to sleep together or separately?" Mary asked, knowing that there was danger for them if someone chanced to catch them this way.
"I'm not sleepy, even," Ginny said.
Mary's eyes widened. What kind of girl was this? Here she had been wrung through the ringer and still she wasn't satisfied. Well, that was normal the first couple of times with a girl. They had learned something new about themselves and wanted to learn more. Well, there was a lot more to learn.
"Shall we keep making love, then?" Mary asked.
"If you're not tired...."
"Tired? I feel like I could go all night!"
"Wow! Maybe we will," Ginny squealed.
Mary took her in her arms again and they kissed deeply, warmly. It seemed to Ginny now that she had known Mary a long time. She was eager to experience new sensations with the older woman.
She wondered what Andrea was doing tonight. She wondered if her girl friend had any idea of what she was doing with Mary. It would be fun to tell her when she got back Sunday night. She was still thinking of Andrea when Mary handed her the vibrator.
"Do it to me, Ginny," Mary said.
"You bet," Ginny grinned, turning the instrument on.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Andrea's Saturday night was even wilder than Ginny's. She had met two guys in the village who had a weekend cabin. It was not difficult for them to read Andrea's messages. She was putting them out in spades and the two bachelors had picked up what she had laid down. Andrea couldn't have been happier.
An hour or two of wandering through Bass Lake Village had told her all she wanted to know about the action there. She knew the routine. You looked in all the windows, let everybody see you swing your ass and strut your stuff, then you popped into the penny arcade or the soda shop and you took your choice of guys on the make.
She had picked Dave Harrison and Jack Benson, both with summers to burn, no responsibility, no money worries, no dates. Dave was eighteen, long dark hair and mustache, and Jack was nineteen, with blond, shoulder-length hair and sandaled feet. They told Andrea that they had another buddy due up, Tom Penross, who wailed on guitar, but he wouldn't be there until next week.
"In the meantime, our pad's outta sight and if you like to swing we got the thing," said Jack, his blue eyes promising what Andrea was looking for.
"You're on, Jack," Andrea said and before the day was out, the two guys were calling her "Andy."
They had picked up some groceries at the local market, some beer, vodka, cola and soda, juices, and crackers. Andrea had had no trouble shaking the other camp members she was with. They all wanted to explore the edges of town and most of them would go back that night, she knew. Most of the counselors would be there that afternoon and stay till late evening, but by that time she hoped she would be safely ensconced in the cabin with the two dudes she had luckily encountered.
The cabin was on a paved road but fairly remote. Its lot bordered on the National Forest so there were no prying neighbors. At least Dave reassured her that this was so. It was made from prefabricated logs and had two floors. Upstairs was a large loft-like bedroom with water beds and animal rugs. Downstairs they had a living room and a kitchen, small, cozy, a fireplace, a couch that made up into a bed and lots of ashtrays.
"Wait'll old Tom gets here," Jack said. "He plays a wild guitar and he's bringing another key of grass. You smoke grass?"
"Sure," said Andrea, exulting in her good fortune. "Got any?"
Dave fished in his denim jacket for a Marlboro pack, brought it out and took out a joint. He lit it, dragged deeply on it, held the smoke in and passed it to Andrea. She did the same and passed it to Jack.
"Welcome to our humble abode," grinned Dave. "We're going to have some party!"
Andrea was delighted with the cabin. She felt snug and free for the first time since she had come to the camp. It had been the same way last year only with some older men. They hadn't smoked grass but they had plenty of booze and some porno films that had really turned her on. Jack and Dave though didn't need any such things. They were studs in their own right. Dave was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, Levi jacket and desert boots. Jack wore multicolored flares, a red shirt and wore sandals. Andrea thought he was cute. Dave was heavier but had a nice smile. She could see the bulge in their pants when they walked and she liked that. Dave dressed his cock on the right, she noticed and Jack, on the left. She always looked at a man's bulge and made no bones about it. She couldn't wait to bring those pricks out of their pants and make them grow in her hand and in her mouth.
They took a long time to finish the joint, chatting about their lives and their interests. Dave's father owned the cabin, she found out. He was an insurance executive and Dave was in college. Jack's father owned a construction company and his own airplane. Jack went to the same college as Dave and they were fraternity brothers. They were delighted with Andrea who seemed more hip than the chicks they knew. They just couldn't figure out why she was in camp instead of having a ball all the time.
"It's my one concession to squaresville," she told them. "This is going to be my last year. I had to bring my girl friend Ginny up because her folks and my folks got this hair up their asses. It's a drag, but Ginny's okay. I'll try to bring her with me next weekend. She's probably bored stiff by now."
"Hell, go get her now," said Jack, who was slightly high already. "Make a foursome out of it."
"No way, Dad. I'm not going back to that camp until I have to. We don't need her anyway. I can handle both of you."
"Wow," said Dave. "Outta sight! Did you hear that, Jack?"
"Yeah, let's get it on."
Andrea was a natural show-off and loved to pretend. With boys egging her on, she was in her element. She stood up in the middle of the room and began to do an impromptu dance, moving her body in a provocative manner as the guys ogled her. Her sinuous form was displayed to advantage as she pirouetted around the rusticly furnished room. They began clapping their hands in unison as she whirled to and fro, her tight pants giving them a fine view of her lovely curves.
Jack got up in the middle of the dance and put on an Elton John cassette and Andrea picked up on the beat of "Honky Cat," a wild number that she moved with like a dervish. She let her arms rise high in the air as she twirled, then reached down to her waist and began pulling up the navy blue blouse, slowly, until she had taken it completely off. She tossed it to Jack with a flourish and he laughed and slapped his thighs.
In white bra and powder blue capris, she jogged to the beat, flinging out her chest so that her breasts strained the bra almost to bursting. Wild yells greeted her cavorting and she smiled with pleasure.
She began pushing down her capris while the boys applauded and yelled "take it off!" She pushed the waist down past her bare tummy and the boys got a glimpse of red panties. They whooped and hollered still more. "Take it off!" they yelled, "take it all off!" Andrea ground her hips and danced closer to them, pushing out her crotch at them as she pushed the capris still further down. The pants slid down past her crotch and the boys could see the dark patch where her pubic hairs gathered over her pussy.
Dave began panting like a dog and making licking sounds with his mouth. His tongue came out and licked salaciously over his lips. Jack howled like a wolf. Encouraged and delighted, Andrea slid out of the capris like a practiced ecdysiast. Now she was wearing only bra and panties and tennis shoes. She kicked these off, her legs going high in the air like a can-can girl.
"Whoooee," hollered Dave, "would you look at that! That's some foxy chick, man!"
"Right on!" echoed Jack.
Andrea took a wide circle in the room to show off her best points. Her rounded ass bounced like a red rubber ball as she cantered before them. Her breasts rose and fell with the exertion of breathing. Andrea's eyes glazed. She seemed to be in a world of her own. The music poured through the cabin through stereo speakers, lending a pagan atmosphere to the situation. Andrea continued to dance in hedonistic abandon, her moves becoming more and more provocative.
Urged on by Jack and Dave, Andrea began vamping like a stripper in a waterfront dive, bending down to the floor, then popping up, her breasts outthrust, her legs spread wide to show the width of her cunt underneath the flaming red panties. She made gestures toward her pussy, swooping her hands up from her knees to a frame just in front of her crotch. She rubbed her body with her hands as though taking a shower and the boys could hardly contain themselves.
"Take your bra off," yelled Jack. "Yeah, take the fucking thing off," giggled Dave. "Let's see those boobs, baby!"
Andrea gave a hearty laugh and shook her finger in the gesture of a "no no" but then reached her arms, behind her back to the clasp. She unsnapped her bra and began dancing with it, snapping it like a whip, then twirling it around her half-naked body. She drew it up between her legs and threw it around her neck like a fur. She used it as a blindfold and as an apron. She put it over her full ripe breasts, holding it there for a few seconds before she pulled it away letting her jugs fall free.
She bounced around the room with a fervor, laughing and humming along with the music of Elton John's album. Finally, Dave couldn't stand it any longer. He jumped up and grabbed Andrea in his arms and began to dance with her while Jack cheered them both on. Andrea really turned them on. The marijuana and the music had gone to her head. She rubbed her flesh against Dave's thighs, then pranced away while he held onto her hands as best he could. She put her box against his bulge and felt it tauten like a stretched hauser, hardening at her wisp of a touch.
She knew she had them. She exulted in the expression of her body and in the power she held over the two males. She seemed to become a part of the music. It flowed through her and activated her coital motions. She devised an impromptu tango and bent backward, dragging Dave over her luscious body. The bulge in his pants was larger now, his tumescence evident. She teased it, running a hand lightly across it, tweaking at his balls, squeezing the tip of his cock with two fingers just to make it grow even larger. Her touch was expert.
"Hey, this gal's all right," Dave said, giddy as a tipsy sailor. "She comes on like a real monster woman!"
"Right on," said Jack, enjoying the voyeur's role.
"You boys turn me on," Andrea said breathlessly. "I could do this all day."
"Or something else, huh?" from Dave.
"Anything," she said. "Anything at all!"
"Jesus," said Jack.
"What a mother!" under-lined Dave.
Andrea finally pushed away the bulky Dave and he reeled over, laughing, to plop beside Jack. Then she began peeling her panties down, putting them at half mast. The boys could see just the top fringes of her pubic hair. Her belly button and rounded tummy began moving as she started a series of bumps and grinds a la Candy Barr. There was hair under her armpits, signals that they read well as she flung her arms straight up and moved toward them, her hips swaying, her legs stepping out long as her body arched backward.
"Hey, she's great, isn't she, Jack?"
"The greatest!" he answered.
"Take it off, Andy," said Jack. "Let's let it all hang out!"
Andrea looked at both of them with a salacious smile. She was very close to them, no more than two feet away. Suddenly she stopped dancing and stood there, panting, her breasts heaving.
Jack and Dave sucked in their breaths, awed by the beauty of her as she stood there motionless.
She slipped out of her panties like some wood nymph about to bathe in a quiet mountain stream. As if on cue, the music stopped at the end of the cassette.
There wasn't a sound in the room except the heavy breathing of the three people there. Andrea looked at Jack, then at Dave. She looked them in the eyes. They looked at her eyes, then theirs traveled down her slender graceful body, taking in every curve, every mound, every line.
Two pairs of eyes riveted on her fluffy thatch of hair. She was standing with her weight on one leg, the other stepped forward slightly. Her hands were on her hips, like a model's. There was the hint of a smile on her lips and her eyes glinted with a promised passion. Still, there was no sound from either of the boys.
Finally, Andrea spoke! "Well," she said, "you see it. Who wants it first? Or do you both want me at once?"
"I'll be damned," said Jack, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Geezus," murmured Dave, his mouth dry.
Andrea broke into a smile and reached out a slender arm.
"Which one will it be?" she asked.
Dave sat there like a stone. Jack gulped and reached out for her. He put his hand in hers and she pulled him up, then drew him close to her. He wet his lips and stared at her, not believing what was happening. Then she put her hands on his crotch and felt the partially soft penis underneath.
"You want to play?" she asked.
Jack nodded. As he stood there, she began fondling his genitals. They changed shape, his cock growing hard as her fingers caressed his scrotum and prick. Dave still sat there, watching, his own cock swelling in his jeans. He knew it was going to be Jack first and he was glad. Jack was older and Jack deserved her. But he wanted her too. In the worst way. He was just too stunned to say or do anything just then. He was fascinated by the way Andrea was handling his friend's crotch. She was bold and she was good. She had the most beautiful body he had ever seen. He had laid a lot of chicks but he had hardly ever seen their bodies up close like that, in the daylight. Andrea was a vision, like one of those foldouts in the men's magazines. She seemed to be bigger than life and he could scarcely believe his eyes.
She moved in the silence of the room like the shadow of a dancer, in slow motion. She had established the rite of her sexuality during the dance and now she was reaping the reward at Jack's trousers and with his body. He stood there, transfixed, looking deep into her eyes, past to her dark raven hair, and beyond, into a world of sensual excitements that he had never glimpsed before. All the while, she was at his manhood with her fingers, molding it with a curved palm, extending it with a feathery touch that made his skin prickle.
The zipper being unzipped made a noise in the room like a door buzzer. Jack was not even aware, at first, that she was in his undershorts with her hand, fishing his horn-hard cock out into the open. Another move of hers, while he was still caught up in her spell like a statue, unbuckled his belt, letting his trousers fall around his knees. Before he knew what was happening, she had dropped to her knees before him. He looked down and saw her looking up at him like a beseeching maiden, still with an assurance that kept him silent and off balance.
"I'm going to suck you," she said softly.
Jack nearly ejaculated right then. He felt a twinge in his cock and a spark through his loins that made his legs go weak.
Then she was at him, like a huntress come upon her prey. She opened her mouth like some carnivorous flower and devoured his rigid member with a hunger that surprised him. She took it deep into her throat with one swallow. Lights lit up in his head and his knees bent with weakness. He thought of foggy nights in San Francisco and young wet dreams of adolescence. He thought of the ocean and its wet sucking shore, the mist that swirls up around the rocks, dampening hair, body, and soul. He thought of his first kiss and his first sex, of all the fine girls he had known and was likely to know. He thought of everything and everyone, and nothing compared to this girl, Andrea, who had taken his manhood into her mouth and throat and was even now blotting out all the old memories.
Dave watched in disbelief and awe. He had never believed a girl could take a cock and bury it that deep in her throat. But Andrea was doing it to Jack. She had taken him up to the nuts and didn't even blink an eye. No strain, no pain, he thought. Geezus, but this couldn't be real. But it was.
Andrea sucked Jack's cock with a tenderness that surprised him. He looked down at her innocent face, marveling at her calmness. Her cheeks were sunk in, her lips full pursed over that swollen purple shaft of his.-He felt his juices surging to the fore, ready to burst into her mouth and splash her throat. He put his hands on her head, slipping them over her dark hair, feeling her powerful womanness through his fingers. Then he found himself jamming his cock into her head, not caring if he hurt her or not. He couldn't help himself. The feel of her tongue on the tip of his prick was almost too much to bear. She was holding his shaft in her hands and squeezing the mushroomed warhead while her tongue pried at the tiny hole like a hummingbird at a honey feeder.
If Jack thought Andrea would be disconcerted over his ramrod technique, he was mistaken. She took this as a sign of eagerness and only took what he had, seemingly able to ask for more. His cock slid in and out of her deep throat with no problem. It was wet with her own saliva and his precoital juices. Jack began making shorter strokes and faster ones as his excitement mounted. "Lord, Andy, I'm going to come," he gasped.
Andrea nodded her head and sucked his cock all the harder.
"I'll be damned," muttered Dave, who by now had unzipped his own trousers so that his cock could be free of confinement. It was rigid as he waited his turn.
"I'm coming now," said Jack, his body humped over in an odd position, knees bent, head flung back.
Andrea sucked him deep into her throat and felt his body shudder. A second later, clouds of sperm shot into her throat. She gagged, but kept swallowing. She sucked and sucked on his pecker until she had drained the last of his cum. Then she released her mouth's hold on him and looked up, smiling. "Take a rest, Jack, while I do Dave and then we'll really get it on," she said.
Jack shook his head in disbelief. He half staggered back to the couch, never taking his eyes from Andrea. "You're something else," he said. "I mean you have to be the greatest. You are!"
"Come here, Dave, or don't you want a blow job?" Andrea kidded, not answering Jack's comments.
Dave got up with alacrity and walked over to Andrea who was still kneeling on the floor.
"My," she said, "you've got a beautiful big one there. I don't know if I can handle it or not."
"Aw, come on, Andy," Dave said, whining, "try it. It's not that big!"
"I was just kidding," she smiled. "The bigger they are, the better I like them."
"Geezus," Dave said dumbly. "Outta sight!"
Andrea put her hand on Dave's stiff pecker and squeezed it. Then she ran her fingers down its length as though she were fingering a flute. The cock bounced higher as it stiffened even more. A dribble of precoital fluid seeped through the hole and Andrea took her finger to it, smearing it around the head of his cock before taking the organ into her mouth.
Jack watched as had Dave while Andrea performed fellatio once more. Dave very nearly prematurely ejaculated into Andrea's mouth, so exquisite did it feel as she sucked his cock into her warm wet mouth. The fact was that Dave's prick was larger than Jack's but he had not had as much sexual experience as his friend. He had only had one blow job in his life and that was at night. It had been nothing like this, but merely the girl's way of showing her affection for him through a minor bit of foreplay. Andrea seemed to enjoy cocksucking just for itself. It seemed to give her as much pleasure as it gave him. He wondered how a girl born of wealthy parents, with good breeding, had gotten to like oral sex so much. She was experienced, he could tell that. The way her tongue wound around the head of his dick almost brought him to his knees. Like he had seen Jack do, he took Andrea's head in his hands and moved closer to her, leaning back slightly so that his cock jutted out more. He still couldn't figure out how she could take all of him down into her throat without strangling to death, but that's what she was doing. She slid that curved set shaft of his down deep, swallowed it even deeper, then slid it back out again until the head just fit into her pursed lips. Her performance was perfect.
She had beautiful lips, too. They were full and perfectly formed. She made him tingle all over. He could almost feel his sperm boiling in his sac ready to explode into her mouth. He looked back at Jack and grinned sheepishly. A moment later he was watching Andrea again. He was content to stand there and let her suck him as she had Jack, but that was not her intention. Suddenly, she spit his prick out of her mouth and bent backward, extending her legs so that she was lying flat on the floor.
"Get over me," she told him. "I want you to fuck me in the mouth."
Dave straddled her face then, his blood racing. She pulled him down on her and swallowed his cock again. She pushed it out. "Fuck me in the mouth, Dave. Fuck me good. Fuck me until you come," she pleaded.
Dave needed no encouragement. He leaned over her and began pumping up and down, his cock sliding easily in and out of Andrea's mouth. She sucked him hard with each plunge. She tongued him on the upswing. He began fucking her face faster and faster, losing control as spasms of raw pleasure surged through his entire body. "Oh, man," he moaned, "I can feel it. I'm about to shoot."
Andrea sucked him harder, pulled him deeper into her throat.
"Now, geezus," he said, feeling his juices boil up and begin to climb through his rod.
Andrea held the head of his member in her mouth a moment, then, just as he ejaculated, she sucked him deep. He popped off, his body shaking all over. His cum shot into her and he could feel her swallow. She sucked him dry as she had Jack and he withdrew, the head of his penis tender with a sudden pain.
"Oh, thanks, Andy," he croaked. "That was so damned good."
Andrea wiped cum off her mouth and rolled over on her tummy, then hunched up, until she was standing again. She helped Dave get up off his knees. She patted his shrinking cock gently and smiled at both boys.
"Well," she said. "I dug both of you. I hope you're happy."
"Oh, yes," the boys chorused.
"Wild, man," said Jack.
"Outta sight," said Dave.
"Now," she said. "I'd like a drink and a cigarette before I let you guys fuck me in my pussy."
Jack got a hard-on at that. Dave mixed screwdrivers for the three of them while Andrea began toying with Jack's cock. They smoked another joint and rapped about the cabin and the mountains for a few moments. When Andrea had finished her drink, she pushed Jack and Dave off the couch and lay down, her long legs spread wide.
"Are you ready, Jack?" she asked.
"Damn sure," he said.
"Then, fuck me, baby. Fuck me good."
Jack mounted her. She helped guide his swollen prick to her cunt. He went in easily and began pumping in and out. Andrea pumped her self, completely relaxed, her eyes half closed. She was enjoying the shaft plumbing her depths. She beckoned for Dave to come near. She grabbed his peter and began jacking it slowly as she fucked Jack.
"You're class, Andrea," Jack said. "Real class."
"I'm glad you enjoy it," she said.
Jack gave her all he had and it was not long before he ejaculated inside her. Then Dave mounted her for his turn and fucked her while she played with Jack's shrunken cock. It grew hard again after a while. She pulled him into her mouth just before Dave came and sucked him until he ejaculated once more into her throat. Afterwards, she dressed and they lit another joint.
"That takes care of today," she said. "Now, I hope you guys will be ready for me again tonight. There are still some things we haven't tried yet and I'm in the mood for a lot of sex!"
"You're really something," Jack said. "I can't get over it."
"I think you guys are the wildest," she laughed. "I haven't been fucked this good since I can't remember when. And just think, we've got the whole weekend."
"Right on," said Dave, feeling a tug at his trousers again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sunday morning was one of those days that seem to be created just to show people how lucky they are to be alive and living on the earth. The camp brightened with the early sun that searched out every cold and shadowed corner and lit it with a fire that was kindled from pure gold. Mark awoke as that mountain sun reached through the window for him and opened his eyes to its preening splendor. He stretched and arose quickly, eager to meet Ginny and take her to the woods where they could picnic, alone, and discover for themselves their own glories away from prying eyes.
He had everything ready for the excursion that meant so much to him. He had carefully packed the essentials the night before: a basket -lined with a blanket, bread, cheese, canned Vienna sausages, salami, wine, cake, olives, and potato chips. In his pocket he carried several rolled joints because he planned to turn Ginny on so that, he rationalized, she would enjoy the affair even more. He was sure of himself, sure that Ginny would have no objections to his planned advances. Mark believed in planning, to the hilt, and he didn't believe in failure. That was why he had always been successful as a seducer. He had never even considered that he would be rebuffed in any sexual conquest, therefore he had never been disappointed. It was an advantage he obviously enjoyed since he was smiling to himself as he jauntily left his own cabin and made his way to the agreed upon rendezvous shortly after he had shaved, showered, and cologned himself. His step was brisk, his spirits high as he walked through the woods, leaving the camp behind him like some still-life painting he had just stepped out of.
Mark smoked a joint himself as he leaned against a tree waiting for Ginny. He felt at peace with the world, happy to be away from the confinement of camp, the scrutinizing mind and presence of his boss, Belle Stern. It seemed as though a load had been lifted from his shoulders as he drank in the sunshine playing through the pines, the sun that was more benign now, less aggressive than it had been earlier in the morning when it had first come over the land.
He began to wonder if Ginny would show up. After all. she must know that he wanted to do more with her than just chat over a picnic basket. If his hunch was right, though, she would show up. She was a woman and had read his message all right. He carried authority, too, and if he had figured Ginny correctly she was ready for any adventure. That kiss had told him that much. It was not just a friendly peck, but had been loaded with a latent passion that told him she would go as far as he wanted to take her. He was right about Ginny. She came up the trail a few moments later and his heart skipped a beat.
"Hi," she said jauntily when she saw him.
"Hi, Ginny. I was hoping you'd still decide to come."
Her eyes took in the picnic basket and Mark. He looked very handsome leaning against the tree. He reminded her of a self-portrait she had seen once of Corot. All he lacked was the costume, the staff and the dog, to look like the sensuous painter.
"Oh, it's such a glorious day," she said easily. "I'm glad you invited me."
Mark drank in her loveliness. She had a fashion band in her hair, red to match her shorts. Her yellow sweater was taut with the fullness of her breasts. She had on low-cut tennis shoes, long yellow socks that came just below her knees. He was glad she had worn shorts. They showed the curves of her body to advantage, emphasized her legs and bustline. Mark thought that she was one of the most splendid creatures of the female gentler that he had ever seen in his life. Her youth stood out all over her, but a heady femininity came across, too.
"You look like a million today," he told her.
"Why, thank you, Mark," she said, flattered at the compliment. "What did you bring us?"
"It's a secret, for now," he laughed. "And no fair peeking."
"Okay. I love secrets."
"First we hike to a beautiful glade I know about. It's high up. Think you can make it?"
"I brought my walking legs," she said. "Then let's go."
They strode off, Mark leading, up the trail that wound through pines and cedar, manzanita and oak. The higher they went, the more beautiful it became. There were no signs of civilization along the trail. Instead, they heard squirrels barking and saw them scurrying up the lofty pines. They were scolded by jays and serenaded by small chirping junkos. Ginny took deep breaths, enjoying the clear clean air and the scent of the forest.
She felt wonderful that morning. She and Mary had made love most of the night but she wasn't tired. Instead, she felt exhilarated and happy. She had hated to leave Mary this morning and yet Mary had told her that she was going to town herself so would not be in camp.
After she had brushed her teeth and showered, Mary had kissed her and said she'd see her that night after she got back from Bass Lake Village. The memory of that kiss, and the others, was still fresh in her mind. Mary had made her even more aware of her own body than Andrea had and this gave Ginny a confidence that she hadn't possessed before. She had reached heights of passion last night that had surprised her. Now, she began to wonder if there was no limit to sexual ecstasy. She knew now, from being loved by two different girls, that she was more erotic than she had ever imagined. She wondered now how it would be to be made love to by a man. She looked ahead at Mark and smiled to herself. Perhaps she would find out sooner than she expected. She was sure that Mark Grant wasn't getting her out here in the woods just to tell her about the flora and fauna. He had made that pretty plain the other night.
Well, why not, she asked herself. It was about time she lost her virginity. Mark was handsome and thoughtful. He had experience, obviously. He was so sure of himself. She had been dumb not to have taken care of that little matter of the hymen long ago, but she had just never been that turned on. Sex had been more mystical than real to her anyway. She had listened to the tales of her girl friends and not found them appetizing at all. She had masturbated, of course, so she knew that there was excitement connected with sex. But until Andrea had made love to her she had never realized how really fantastic the whole thing was. Now, she told herself, I only have to make it with some dude and I'll be complete. She chided herself for pretending to be so casual about it. She wasn't cool at all, really. Her heart was halfway up in her throat to think about it. Andrea and she had just sort of naturally come together and then Mary, too, knew what to do. But Mark was an enigma still. He was a man and she had heard things. He might hurt her. She might bleed to death. Ginny was not very wise in the ways of sex because she had always been so busy and athletic. Now that there was the possibility that she might lose her virginity, she was filled with a vague uneasiness. But more than that, she admitted to herself, she was scared stiff!
Finally, Mark stopped and turned to look at Ginny.
"It's just a little ways further on," he said, a little short of breath.
"Oh, I love it up here," she said. "It's so quiet and yet it's alive. Did you see that little gray squirrel back there? He had a piece of rope in his mouth."
"Yes, I did. He was probably taking that up to his nest, to make it stronger."
The last part of their hike was steeper and they didn't stop until they crested a wooded ridge. Ginny was out of breath and didn't see that Mark had stopped. She bumped up against him, panting. He put his arm around her and held her against him.
"Wow, thanks," she said. "I don't think I could stand up by myself."
"Look over there," Mark said, pointing.
Ginny looked and saw a tiny valley, a meadow, where three deer were feeding several hundred yards away. She couldn't believe her eyes. It was like walking into another world. Together, they peered over the expanse of the glen, breathless with delight. They could hear birds calling and see the deer feeding contentedly.
"You can see how isolated it is here," Mark said. "I found it by accident when I had my group out for a hike. They didn't know about it and I didn't say anything. Isn't it grand?"
"Oh, yes, it is," agreed Ginny. "It's the loveliest place I've ever seen."
"Come on, let's find a spot for our picnic." He hefted the basket and took Ginny's hand, leading her across the meadow. The deer, startled, bounded off gracefully into the forest. At the farthest edge of the meadow, Mark found a spot to his liking.
"This has shade if we need it and the sun almost all day, for warmth," he said. "We'll keep the picnic basket in the shade until we're hungry, then eat in the sun. How's that?"
"Great," said Ginny. She helped him spread the blanket and oohed and ahed over the goodies she saw in the basket. "You really go first class," she said.
"Always."
They spent the morning exploring the country above the glade. Mark told Ginny what his ambitions were in life and surprised her when he told her he had written to her father's company for a job.
"Maybe I can help," she said.
"We'll see. I may not need it. My qualifications are good. I just hope my application isn't lost in the shuffle, that's all."
"Is that the reason you invited me here on the picnic?"
"No, of course not. I invited you because I lust after you," he grinned. "Are you kidding?"
"Partly. Seriously, I would have invited you if you're name were Emma Gooch. You're the most beautiful girl in camp, you know. I'm sure you'll be this year's queen."
"Or Andrea."
"No," he said. "you.-Andrea's too flighty, too precocious. You are more serious. You take camp seriously, she doesn't. They look for a lot of things. Popularity counts. Your girl friend, and I'm not knocking her, gives the impression that she thinks all this nature business is a lot of unadulterated horse manure. You, however, join in. That's the difference. I'm sure you'll be honored by being elected queen of this year's summer session."
"I'm flattered."
She was, too. She even blushed and Mark thought that was the nicest thing about her. Suddenly he knew that he had to have her. Today. This afternoon. She had never looked more beautiful to him than at that moment when her cheeks colored.
"Come on," he said, later. "Let's go to our spot. I want to wine and dine you and then make mad passionate love to you under the trees."
"I go for the wine and dine," she laughed, "but I don't know about the other. I'm not sure that you would like me at all."
"Oh, I would," he said. "And I do."
They went back to their spot by the glade and Mark began dazzling her with his charm and wit. He affected a British accent as he poured the rich burgundy into plastic glasses. Ginny thought he was funny and her rich laughter rang out over the meadow. She helped him fix the hero-like sandwiches and they drank wine, chatted until the last morsel was gone. Ginny felt very giddy and gay. The wine had gone to her head, relaxing her, making her at peace with the captivating surroundings.
"You're quite a girl, Ginny," Mark said after the picnic things had been cleared away. "I've never enjoyed anyone this much in my life."
"Well, neither have I," she said. "I've had a ball. An absolute ball. The food was great and the wine was ... oooh, the wine was...." and she broke off laughing.
"Have some more, me lady?" he said in the fake limey accent of his.
Ginny cracked up, nodding.
He poured her a glass and sat very close to her. He brought her glass up to her lips and she sipped from it, looking over the rim at his eyes. They were so close she could feel them burning into her. She drank another sip and he had moved closer, so close she could smell his man scent. It was strong and rugged and suddenly she felt even more drawn to this kind, thoughtful, handsome man. He seemed so sure of himself, so confident in his maleness that she felt overpowered by it. She was sure that she wouldn't resist if anything were to happen. But so far, Mark had given her no real indication that they were going to do anything but picnic and enjoy the day. Oh, he had made a few hints, but all men did that. It didn't mean anything, really. Did it?
Now, she wasn't so sure. Mark was very close and she thought she felt a hand on her bare leg.
It was a hand on her leg!
Mark's touch sent a tingle through Ginny. There was something deliciously salacious about their being alone together out here in the wilds. She felt like Eve looking upon her Adam for the first time. She was more than slightly giddy from the wine, but that wasn't all of it, she reasoned. The fresh air, the aloneness, the charm of this young man, were all beginning to work their magic. His hand was warm on her leg and suddenly she knew that she wanted to experience him, that she wanted him to touch her all over, kindle those fires that she now knew were always there waiting to be lit.
"You're so soft and lovely, Ginny," he whispered to her, taking the wine glass away and setting it down. "I remember how you kissed me the other night. May I kiss you again?"
He hadn't needed to ask, but she nodded her head anyway. She closed her eyes and felt him come close. He kissed her, soft on the lips at first, then harder. A moment later, as passion began to warm them both, he took her into his arms. His tongue slid past her lips and found her tongue. She eagerly tongued him back, their kiss wet and hot with a flaring warmth that neither of them expected.
His hand moved up her leg to her shorts. It burned a fire trail along her flesh. Mark felt her body quiver and knew that he would have no trouble seducing this young girl. It wasn't only the eager way she returned his kiss, it was the way she folded into his arms and trembled as his hand moved along her leg.
Her kiss became more passionate. Mark probed his tongue deeper inside her mouth. She seemed eager to receive it, twining her own around his. His hand reached boldly for her crotch, cupped it, gently but firmly. He began rubbing the mound. It seemed to swell under his caress. His hand grew warm with the rubbing. He felt his own crotch expand as his cock grew tumescent.
"Ummmm," Ginny moaned as his hand busied itself at her crotch.
He took it away and placed it on her leg again. Then he moved up under her shorts and panties until he felt flesh. He moved it still further, feeling the fringe of her pubic hairs. Ginny shifted her body to give him easier access to her private parts. Mark's heart jumped in his throat. She wanted him!
He knew now that he could continue his seduction without any forceful interference from Ginny. The way she had moved her body told him that she was ready, willing, and able. He moved his hand further inside her panties and shorts, finding her lush pulsing pussy eagerly thrusting out to him. Still, they kissed, and despite the confining quarters where his hand was, Mark managed to rub her lips with his palm. He pressed hard and felt her juices seeping out, oiling her lips. His rock-hard cock was straining to burst out of his trousers. He knew that it was time for both of them to get out of this awkward position and get into more comfortable attitudes. He broke off his kiss.
"I want you, Ginny," he whispered in her ear. "Now!"
"Ummmmm," Ginny moaned, her eyes still closed. "Yesss," she husked, the sibilant hissing.
"I'll take off your clothes," he said.
"Please do, lover," she said. She felt half drunk, dizzy. She kept her eyes closed because she wanted to retain all the recent impressions she had. Mark's hand on her bare cunt had sent thrills up her spine, unlike the ones she had experienced with Andrea and Mary. Mark's hand was bigger, firmer and in a curious way, gentler. His kiss was strictly male. There was no subtle nuance to it. It was bold and passionate, commanding. She thought it was the best kiss she had ever had. Maybe the wine helped, she admitted, but it wasn't all that. Mark was a man and she was a woman. And now he was going to take away her virginity. Crack her cherry. Break her maidenhead. All that. Oooooh! She wanted it so!
The afternoon was warm and pleasant. Mark knew that Ginny was tipsy but knew that this would wear off during their lovemaking. For the time being, it made things easier for him. She was pliant in his hands as he removed her clothing, first her blouse and bra, then her shorts. He left her panties on, instinctively realizing that more foreplay would be needed to make Ginny emotionally and physically ready for him. He sensed that she was not very experienced with men. Probably a heavy petter, let boys fool around with her, but none of her sexcapades would have been very satisfying. Not nearly as satisfying as he intended to make it for her.
She wore pink panties. They looked new to Mark. Her thatch was visible through the material and there was a damp spot where her juices had leaked through. Mark lay her back on the blanket and looked at her for a long moment. She opened her eyes, as if feeling his eyes on her, and smiled weakly.
"You're really going to go through with it, aren't you?" she said.
"Do you want me to?".
"I don't know. I'm a virgin."
Mark's eyebrows went up.
"Hard to believe, isn't it? In this day and age. Oh, don't worry. I take the pill and I'm safe. I've just never gone all the way with a guy before. No definite reason why not. Just wasn't my time."
"Is it now?"
"That's up to you. I want it to be beautiful. I'm sentimental."
Mark looked at her with new respect. She was beautiful and he was moved by her admission, by her desire. "I will be gentle with you," he said. "I want you very much. Even more, now."
"A piece of ass?"
"More than that, Ginny. Much more than that. Why don't you relax?"
"I'm slightly scared, that's why," she admitted.
Mark pulled the tin out of the picnic basket. He took out two joints and lit them. He gave one to Ginny.
"Here," he said. "This'll give you a whole new way of looking at things."
Ginny smoked, sitting up on her elbows, the sun splashing on her naked body. Mark smoked and rubbed his hand on her tummy. Neither of them spoke. They sat there with their thoughts and looked at each other. They imagined how it would be to make love to each other. They thought about how it would change them. The experience seemed to be gaining weight the more they smoked and looked at each other. It was no longer a casual picnic where a guy messes around and makes out with the chick. The emotional content of the tryst seemed to be building with each breath they took.
Finally, Ginny stubbed out her joint, not finishing it more than halfway. Mark squeezed his dead and took the girl in his arms. "Feel better?" he asked.
"Much better. I've decided that I want you too, Mark. You didn't push me. Yet you knew I was ready to grow up, to become a woman. Understand?"
"I understand," he said.
The time for talk was past, he knew. He kissed Ginny again and found her a changed woman. Her whole body seemed to race to fit with his. He quickly removed all of his clothing, then snaked her panties off. Both nude, they came to each other with their separate hungers, their private fevers. They kissed hard and Mark ground his body against hers, crushing her breasts to his chest.
Ginny found that she liked the weight of his body against her breasts. The masculine smell of him was a thrill to her-after Mary and Andrea. She didn't want to think about them now. They had no part in this. She was looking forward with keen anticipation to what Mark was going to do with her and to her. She let him have the lead, cooperating to the extent that her feelings let her. The kissing had excited her but her body yearned for more. She wanted him to touch her, inside and out, all over, with both hands, his body, his hair, his mouth.
As if reading her mind, Mark began kissing Ginny on the neck. He worked around and found an ear lobe. He put it in his mouth, tongued it, then sucked it. He felt it swell in his mouth, harden just like a penis or a clitoris. Ginny's neck reddened where he had kissed her and the flush spread to her face and shoulders. She looked lovely lying there with the sun playing on her blonde hair. He traveled down her neck, to her breasts. He kissed one tenderly, then took a, nipple in his mouth. Ginny shuddered as the sensation spread through her body. Mark's cock grew even harder, seeping precoital fluid.
"Oh, oh," Ginny said, "that feels so good, Mark. I feel it all over."
"Good. I want you to be ready for me."
"Oh, I will be, I will be," she said.
He looked down at her crotch. She had spread her legs as if to welcome him. He put a hand down between her legs and felt the dampness. As he continued to nibble on her nipple, he slid his finger into the tight little hole. It was even wetter inside. Her body bucked again as his finger stirred her clitoris from its nesting place. He continued to titillate it with his finger while his mouth roamed freely over her swollen breasts, the hardened nipples.
Ginny moaned with pleasure. Her eyes fluttered and her breasts rose and fell as excitement stirred her nerves. She was gasping at Mark's deft boldness, his accurate exploitation of her most erogenous places. She was very thrilled, at last, that a man, a real man, was exploring her body, tuning it up like an orchestra for a symphony of sex that she knew must await her. "You make me feel so good. So hot," she said, as his mouth burned at her breasts.
"This is only the beginning, sweet Ginny," he said, his finger probing all the way to the hymen. He knew then that Ginny had told the truth. She was a virgin, at least in the clinical sense. That rubbery membrane was there and he meant to cleave it with his swollen cock. He wanted her now more than ever. Not that he would feel any great accomplishment, but there was a certain satisfaction in being the first to penetrate that childhood barrier and plunge his organ deep into her love tunnel. It was almost like picking up a stone and discovering that it was a diamond.
Now that his finger had discovered the truth about Ginny, it went back to her throbbing little clit. He had her dancing on the tip end of his finger. His mouth moved down, to her tummy. She writhed in ecstasy as his tongue tantalized her bare flesh. He was relentless, hurting to plunge his cock inside that wet hot cunt and break through the last bonds of her youth. Ginny's mouth opened and her back arched. She was ready.
He removed his hand from her pussy and held her tightly in his arms. He kissed her again. She melted against him like a tree to the wind. He mounted her then pushing his big cock up to her pulsing lips. Ginny shook all over. He entered her. She trembled in her legs and tummy. His prick touched her clit and she came in a gush. This is what she had been waiting for-all her life. Mark went slow, feeling every lovely pleasure of her vagina.
"I love it, I love it," she breathed.
Then Mark plunged his cock deep. Ginny gasped as she took him into her. She felt a scream perched on the tip of her lips as his cock filled her, gave her life and love and searing pain.
CHAPTER NINE
Ginny screamed softly as Mark tore through her maidenhead. It wasn't the pain, but the surprise, mostly, that took her breath away. Suddenly she had felt a tug and then Mark's cock was way up inside her, touching places that had never been touched before. He swelled into the dark love passage, assuaging the small hurt that had occurred, bringing new sensations as her body convulsed with the triple orgasm that his plunge had created.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, concerned.
"A little. Not much. You feel good inside me.
"You feel good around me."
"Oh, Mark, I can't tell you how I feel. I'm coming with almost every stroke of you. It's more than I expected, more than I dreamed."
"I'm glad," he said. He pumped her more, looking down at her face. She was glowing with love, her flesh flushed, her body warm and pneumatic beneath his. He had not yet come, holding himself back, waiting for the biggest surge of her own passions. Now he fucked her with renewed energy, pounding her loins with his own, plunging his cock deep into her. She took all he had, rising to him so that he buried his shaft to the hilt in that steaming cunt. She was tight, her hole small enough to clasp his joint all the way in and out. He kissed her again and felt her body respond, her twat twitch and grasp him as he arced through her wet slit all the way to the womb's opening.
As he fucked her, she shed more of her inhibitions. Soon, she threw her legs up in the air, allowing him to penetrate still deeper. He felt her losing all control of her loins and her pussy as he stroked with all his might. He knew she was rising to a peak and he increased his speed until they were both pounding against each other like mindless galvanized creatures. She yelled as the biggest orgasm she had ever had ripped through her body. He topped her, coming in a gush, his prick buried deep within her.
She could feel the hot spurt of cum fill her. "Oh, oh, oh," she gasped, her head thrown back, her legs high in the air.
"You beautiful woman, you," he breathed, as he spurted his last into her.
She threw her arms around him and held him tight, not wanting him to leave her. But her pulsing pussy spewed him out anyway, and he left her, his cock tender and still dribbling on her pubic hairs. She looked down at him, wanting to see the amazing organ that had given her so much pleasure. She took it in her hand and squeezed it, in awe of its power, delighting in its shape. Mark loved her very much at that moment. "You're wonderful," he told her.
"So are you," she said. "Really wonderful. I can't even think. I'm so hot all over." As she held him, she felt him going soft. It made her sad. She knew, of course, that men were limp before intercourse, but she thought they stayed hard afterward. She felt cheated and wondered if that were all there was to the act of love. She wanted him again.
"It will be hard again in a few minutes," he told her, "if you play with it. Do you want to?"
"Yes," she breathed, glad to hear that it wasn't over with. "Tell me what to do."
"Just hold me a few minutes, like you are," he said. "Squeeze me."
Gingerly, she squeezed his cock. It felt like a piece of rubber, but she liked it. She thought it was fantastic the way it could be soft and harmless one minute and a source of extreme pleasure the next. She continued playing with it, rolling it over in her hands, stripping it up and down, squeezing it. It stayed soft, but her own passions continued a high level of arousal.
That was because Mark was plying her pussy with his fingers.
She was soaked from their lovemaking. Mark put his finger inside her cunt and it swam there. Finding the clit, he began to strum it. Ginny's body convulsed slightly. Tremor followed tremor as he continued his clitoral excitation. Her excitement communicated to him. As she played with his prick, it began to harden in her hand, growing as though it had a will of its own.
"You're getting hard again," she said, amazed. "I told you."
"I can't get over it. It's fantastic!"
"I'm glad you think so," he said. "That's what makes the world go around."
"I believe it," she laughed. "You're getting me all hot and bothered again. With your finger.
"I know," he said. "Do you want my cock inside you again?"
"Do I? Just try me! I didn't know it would be that good. Now I can see what everybody's been talking about."
Mark laughed. "Sex may not be everything," he said, "but it's way ahead of everything that's in second place."
"Let's not talk about it anymore," she said. "You turned me on to fucking and now I want you to fuck me again."
"Oh, I'll fuck you, all right," he said. "Just get ready." He took his hand away from her cunt and hovered over her naked body. He looked down at all that young flesh and thought once again how fortunate he was. She spread her legs and he lowered his boom to her bum. He stabbed her slit with it and felt her jump from the touch. He buried his cock in her inundated pussy and began fucking her, slow and deep, while she stifled the screams that struggled in her throat.
She was tender inside, but she was even more hot this time than the first. Her whole cunt seemed to be clasping and unclasping his cock as it moved in and out of her. He was aware of gentle valleys of pink flesh, the thatch between her legs, the clasping arms, her finely veined neck and cobalt eyes that sucked him downward into a world of tender throbbing ecstasy.
She began climaxing again as he rode her. He held her tightly each time she bucked. Finally, he felt the stirrings of his seeds once more. "I'm coming," he told her.
Ginny sobbed with ecstasy. She wanted him to come again. She wanted to know that she had made her man happy. She held him tightly and felt his body shudder. Her cunt contracted and gripping him, squeezing his juices out.
"Oooooh," he moaned.
"You make me so happy," she said.
"Ginny ... Ginny ... I...." he didn't know what to say anymore. He was too overcome with the experience to try and put it into words. He looked at her a long time, then rolled to his side and looked at her some more. After a while he noticed the tears trickling down her cheek. "Are you sorry we made love?" he asked, not understanding.
"No," she said. "I'm just so very happy. I know that I'm a woman for the first time. It's never happened to me before."
He took her in his arms and held her for several moments. The sun was moving down the long sky before they dressed and got up from their spot. The glade began to chill and take on shadows before they could bring themselves to leave. They walked, then, sadly, reluctantly, back toward camp, hand in hand, in silence.
Belle Stern peered from her cabin. Seeing Ginny come back into camp alone didn't fool her one bit. She could see that the girl had had quite a time. Her hair, though she had tried to fix it, was still disheveled, and her blouse was wrinkled. Belle thought that she walked funny, too, and her imagination filled in the rest. When, a few moments later, Mark came to camp from a different direction, she felt her suspicions confirmed.
"That little bitch gets around," she muttered to herself, her eyes burning with jealousy. At the same time, Belle felt a strong desire for the beautiful girl. While she didn't know all that was going on in her camp, she did know that Ginny had something that drew others to her, and it was primarily a strong sexual aura. Besides that, though, she was, or gave the impression of being, a comparative innocent. It was this quality which had first struck her. Having seen Andrea ball Ginny, she had been consumed with desire for the girl herself. Now, she suspected, Mark had taken-away the last of her innocence, but her appeal had increased.
"Well," mused Belle, "one more won't make much difference to her now." Lt was then that she began making serious plans of her own for enjoying Ginny's body. Visions of the young girl in her bedroom began to fill her mind. She would, she told herself, have to cool it. She couldn't risk a scandal. At the same time, she wanted her so much that she could barely stand it. It wasn't fair for Ginny to have so much fun at her camp without getting some of it for herself. She decided that she would have Ginny at a time when everyone was busy and wouldn't notice so much. That would be during the group sing next Thursday night. She would have Ginny in for a chat that afternoon and invite her over before going to the council circle. They would be a little late, of course. She would see to it!
Andrea came back that Sunday night burning with elation. She couldn't wait to tell Ginny all about her weekend. But she was surprised to see how her girl friend looked when she came in to the cabin. Mary was not there and Andrea had gotten back early.
"Well, what happened to you?" asked Andrea when she took a good look at Ginny. "You look as though you've been through the wringer."
"I don't want to talk about it," said Ginny.
"A secret? Or something bad?"
"A secret. Something good." Ginny didn't want to spoil her mood. She was still in a state of rapture. Before they had separated to come back into camp, Mark had squeezed her hand and said that he wanted to take her into town next weekend. Her heart had soared up into her throat at the invitation. It was very hard to let his hand go and to walk back into camp without him. Now she just wanted to sort out the tumultuous thoughts that crowded her memory and her mind. It was good to see Andrea again, but she didn't want to tell her what had happened. Not yet, anyway.
"Okay," said Andrea, "but what I did is no secret but it was very, very good." She proceeded to tell Ginny the whole story of her weekend. Ginny listened, but she could hardly believe her ears. Talk of Jack and Dave just wasn't real to her. " ... so they want us to come over next Saturday and have a ball," Andrea finished. "How about it?"
"Not me," said Ginny, her voice far away. "I have other plans."
"But we'll get laid all weekend, Gin, don't you see? You'll have an absolute ball."
Angry, Ginny got up from the cot where she'd been sitting. "No," she said. "And I don't want to hear anymore about it. Fuck those dudes all you want, but leave me out of it!"
"Okay, Miss Priss," said Andrea haughtily. "Go fuck yourself! We don't need a party pooper like you around." But she was disappointed because she had so looked forward to bringing Ginny to the boys' cabin. Now, she thought wryly, she'd have to recruit another chick. That wouldn't be easy in a square camp like this, she reasoned. Well, fuck it anyway, she'd do some thing. She couldn't let the boys down.
Mark was pleased to receive a letter forwarded to him on Monday. It was from Reynolds Industries and, from its tone, he felt sure of getting on there. Now, he wouldn't need to use Ginny's influence, but he knew she would be proud of him. He didn't tell her about it, though, because he wanted it to be a surprise on the weekend. It would give them something to talk about and help them make plans. He knew now that Ginny wasn't just another piece of ass, a casual fuck that he would forget about at the end of summer. Ginny was his future and he meant to tell her on Saturday.
It was almost impossible for them to talk alone at camp and they didn't try to because of the numbers of people who would have interfered. Instead, they looked at each other at mealtimes and when they were gathered at the lodge. These looks were noticed by Belle Stern, who was like a radar installation, but Andrea was too wrapped up in her own scene to pick up on the vibes. She had found a horny chick named Gale Patterson who looked like she would be Ginny's replacement next Saturday. She was no raving beauty, but she liked to fuck and Andrea had no trouble convincing her that Dave and Jack and their buddy Tom were the greatest studs since Casanova. She still wasn't talking much to Ginny, not because of still being angry, but because Ginny seemed lost in a world of her own. Mary was acting funny too. She had become quiet at night, although she was still her ebullient self singing and playing her guitar at the campfires every evening.
Thursday came and everyone was looking forward to the giant outdoor barbecue and bonfire. The whole camp would turn out for that and spirits were high. When Ginny was called to the office that afternoon, she felt a moment of fear. She was sure that it had to do with Mark and her going off to the woods last Sunday. She wished he were with her as she walked up to Belle Stern's office. Her heart was in her throat and pounding wildly. She went in and saw that Belle was alone.
"Well, my dear, sit down, won't you," Belle commanded. "There. Now. How do you like our summer camp?"
"Oh, I like it, fine, Mrs. Stern," she said.
"Call me Belle. We're informal here."
Ginny was petrified. She had met Belle Stern but had never talked to her face to face alone before.
"Yes, Belle," said Ginny finally. "Are you looking forward to the cookout and campfire tonight?" Ginny nodded.
"Well, I'd like you to come here first, Ginny," said Belle, her eyes fixing on Ginny's like a hawk's. "Say nothing to anyone else, just separate yourself from any individual and group and come in the back door."
"But why?" Ginny asked. "I don't understand."
"Just be here," said Belle. "Or would you like everyone to know what you've been doing here at camp? With Andrea? With Marie Grant, my counselor?"
Ginny's heart sank. She couldn't find her voice for a few seconds. "Oh, no," she husked. "What are you going to do?" Belle smiled patiently. "Nothing, if you cooperate. I just want to see you before the soiree tonight. Don't worry. You won't be punished. I think you might even enjoy our little, ah, talk. You let Mary and Andrea go on ahead and you come in the back door. Hear?"
Ginny nodded, numb and afraid. She didn't know what Belle Stern could talk about then that she couldn't now, but she was worried. She wanted to tell Mark or Andrea. Mary, maybe. But she knew she wouldn't. Belle had the power to hurt her and everyone else she'd been involved with and she knew she'd do what she had asked. It was probably nothing, anyway. Just a lecture. She left the office and by the time she'd returned to her activity class, she felt much better. Even if Belle knew those things, she wouldn't say anything. It might give the camp a bad name.
Ginny made an excuse not to accompany Mary and Andrea to the outdoor fest that evening. "Go on, I'll see you there after a while," she said.
Mary gave her a look, but Andrea thought that Ginny was just a slow poke. "See you later," Andrea said.
"Yeah," said Ginny, relieved that she had gotten through the first part of her assignment without any trouble. She picked her way to Belle's cabin by skirting the camp. She could hear the happy high-pitched voices going to the bonfire area. She hoped Belle wouldn't keep her long. She wanted to see Mark, even if it was only from far away. She found the back door to Belle's cabin and knocked quietly. The door opened. Belle stood there and Ginny felt the hackles rise on the back of her neck.
"Come in, Ginny," Belle said. She was wearing a thin diaphanous negligee and Ginny knew right away that this was no lecture. Belle led her to the bedroom. "We haven't much time, my dear, so I'd appreciate it if you would remove your clothes as quickly as possible."
"I don't want to," said Ginny, angry.
"Then I'll have to write a long letter to your parents," said Belle. "Let's not play games. I want that hot little body of yours and if you know what's good for you, you'll stop acting like some novitiate in a nunnery."
Ginny saw the reasoning behind Belle's words. It was blackmail and she wanted no part of it, but she realized that Belle would cause her parents to suffer. It wasn't herself she was thinking about, but her mother and father. They wouldn't understand and it would hurt them deeply if Belle told her side of the story. Reluctantly, Ginny undressed, throwing her jeans down, slipping out of her camp T-shirt and tennis shoes, short socks. When she was nude, she turned to look at Belle. Belle still had her negligee on but there was something under it. Ginny couldn't see very well in the darkness, but it didn't make any difference. Belle was at her throat in an instant, burning it with light hungry kisses. Her breathing was very heavy. She seemed to be half out of her mind with lust. She pushed Ginny down on the bed and swarmed over her like a tigress. Her mouth seemed to be everywhere. Ginny could scarcely catch her breath. Belle was relentless in her foreplay activity. She kissed the girl on the lips, the throat, the ears, breasts, tummy and down between her legs.
Soon, despite her trepidations, Ginny found herself highly aroused. Her cunt began to twitch inside, juicing itself up for penetration. Still, Belle hadn't put either her finger or tongue inside and Ginny began to wonder when she would do so.
When Belle felt that Ginny was sufficiently aroused, she climbed atop her, throwing her negligee open. "Spread your legs, honey," Belle commanded in a hoarse voice.
Ginny did and wondered if Belle were going to rub her as Mary and Andrea had. She jumped when she felt something big and hard enter her. Her eyes shot wide open and she looked up at Belle, who was pumping up and down on her lap, shoving a giant member into Ginny's cunt! It felt like a prick! "What's that?" Ginny asked, incredulous.
"A dildo," Belle smiled. "Enjoy it?"
"I don't know. I never heard of such a thing." Then she remembered the vibrator that Mary had used. But that was small. This felt just like a huge cock and Belle was using it like one. Ginny felt around Belle's hips until she encountered the straps. She followed them to the woman's crotch and part of the mystery was explained. It was a fake cock, she reasoned, that a woman could strap on. But where was, the feeling for Belle?
Belle could have told her. It was in Ginny's own reactions as the dildo slid in and out of her wet cunt, tingling the clitoris, exciting the vagina. She felt Ginny's body relax and take up the rhythm of sexual intercourse. Also, Belle felt more like a man, atop the girl, fucking her with the dildo. She could see Ginny's eyes roll as she tossed from side to side, climaxing every few seconds as Belle drove in hard.
When Ginny was at the crest of one of her orgasms, Belle reached down and touched a small button. The dildo gushed hot cream up into Ginny's cunt and surprised her. Belle laughed quietly at the girl's reaction. She loved to use that device, especially on young women who didn't know anything about them. It gave her pleasure in more ways than one.
"I don't know what you did, or how you did it," said Ginny, "but it felt funny."
"I just came," Belle said, teasing. Then she unstrapped the dildo and tossed it away. "We won't need this anymore, love. Your little pussy's so hot now I could touch it with a powder puff and you'd come." Belle began rubbing her big wide open cunt against Ginny's.
Clit to clit, they rocked together, vibrant spasms shooting through both their vaginas. Despite herself, Ginny found that she enjoyed Belle's technique very much. It was less tender than Mary's, more aggressive than Andrea's yet brought back memories of both women to her.
After rubbing her a while, Belle changed positions, sixty-nining as though she had learned her love techniques by rote. Sixty-nine was step three in her repertoire and she expected Ginny to follow unhesitatingly. Ginny felt her loins go cold, then hot, as Belle buried her face between her legs. The tongue seemed as long as a cock and just as hard. It probed and slithered in her cunt like a snake. With Belle's box smothering her, Ginny began to perform cunnilingus herself so that she wouldn't suffocate. She held onto Belle's hips and pushed her up and down as her own tongue penetrated the large steaming cunt of the older woman.
Multiple orgasms, though not simultaneous, rocked them both. Belle seemed insatiable and Ginny tried hard to keep up. Finally, she told Belle that she could do no more. Her jaws ached and her tongue had lost all of its power. Belle climbed off of her and began playing with her titties.
"You were good, Ginny, very good," she said, matter of factly. "I do hope we can meet again before you leave camp. I enjoyed your stimulating company immensely. Better get dressed and go to the meeting, now. I'll be along soon."
Gratefully, Ginny arose and put on her clothes while Belle smoked a cigarette. "I'd not mention this to anyone if I were you," Belle warned. "It would be less understandable than the rest of your behavior here."
"Don't worry," Ginny said, controlling her anger. "I wouldn't want to mention this to anyone."
"There's no need to be insulting. You enjoyed getting your little cunt licked as much as I did. You can't deny that. You got your cookies off."
"I don't want to talk about it. May I leave now?"
"Sure, Ginny. Think about me, won't you? I'm not that bad. I just don't have the time to be subtle. When I see something I want, I get it. That's how I got where I am. Now run along."
Just as Ginny got to the back door, she knew something was wrong. Behind her, at the front door, she heard a commotion. She went to see what it was, Belle alongside, still wearing her negligee. The door burst open and Mark Grant stood there, staring at the two women.
"Mark...." Ginny tried to say. His glance withered her.
Belle smirked.
"I wondered where you were, Ginny. I was worried, so I thought I'd ask Belle if we should look for you. I see it wasn't necessary."
"It isn't what you think, Mark," Ginny said.
"Oh, yes it is!" mocked Belle. "Now get out, both of you."
"I see," said Mark. "I guess I was wrong about you, Miss Reynolds. Pardon my intrusion."
He was gone, then, and Ginny stood bewildered for a second or two. Then she ran after her lover, calling to him in the dark.
Behind her, in the doorway, Belle watched.
Then her laughter rolled out over the campground, ringing in the empty woods like a horseshoe game. Ginny sobbed as she ran after Mark.
CHAPTER TEN
Ginny never did find Mark that night. He had drifted through the crowd and into the woods to be alone. Sadly, she had joined the others, then walked back to the cabin with Andrea and Mary. She had wanted to explain to Mark what had happened, but felt that it wouldn't do any good. She couldn't very well tell him about Andrea, either. She could have said that Belle had found out about her and Mark and had threatened exposure. She decided that would be the best course open to her.
But it wasn't until Saturday that she could talk to Mark alone. She had to practically force him to go with her outside the camp where they could talk. "It wasn't the way you thought," she told him. "Belle forced me to come to her cabin. She found out about us."
"You poor girl," he said. "Let's go see her and have it out right now." He was angry and he wanted to fight.
"No," said Ginny. "I don't want any more hassle with Belle Stern. I just want to get out of this camp. It's unreal. You're supposed to come here and enjoy yourself, be free, but it's getting to be like a prison."
"I know what you mean, Ginny. Maybe you're right. But there are only a few weeks left. Can't we both try to stick it out?"
Ginny looked at him for a long time. They were sitting on a fallen log above camp. Most everyone else, including Belle Stern, Andrea and Mary, had gone into town. Ginny wondered if he still wanted her to go with him to Bass Lake Village.
Then he told her about the letter from her father's company. Ginny beamed. "Let's go into town," he said.
Ginny squealed like a little girl. "It'll only take me a second to get ready," she said. Together, they bounded down the hill to the camp. While she ran off to get her overnight things, Mark threw together his shaving gear, then walked to the parking lot where his car was. He waited for Ginny and when she got in, he drove off with a spin of wheels, a burst of gravel, and pine needles.
Ginny wore a bandanna, dark glasses, stylish maroon capris, and an orange blouse. She looked, thought Mark, like a movie star traveling incognito. He was glad of that, because when he pulled up to the lodge he knew she would appear sophisticated from the office window. He took a room at the Thunderbird Lodge, way in the back, far from prying eyes.
When they got inside, Ginny took off her glasses and threw her arms around Mark. "Oh, Mark, thank you for bringing me here," she said. "Two glorious days together. Do you still want me after what that woman did to me?"
Mark looked at her very tenderly. "Of course I do. Take off your clothes and find out. Look, Ginny, everyone finds sex in their own way. Belle is a woman of action. She takes sex where she finds it. So do I. So do you, probably. We might not want to share each other after we love for a long time, but for right now, the past is definitely past and Belle Stern has no place in this room."
Ginny loved him for that. She took seconds to peel out of her clothes and to plop between the fresh sheets. Mark undressed, too, and she giggled, watching him. "You have bony legs," she teased.
"I do not," he said in mock seriousness. "They're beauty contest quality."
"I like what's between them."
"It's all yours."
"Then give it to me."
He walked over to her and she put her hand on his still soft cock. She stroked it as she would a kitten and it rose to her bidding. He leaned over the bed and she drew him into her mouth. Mark's eyes went up. He had thought he would have to break her into fellatio gradually, but was pleased that she had taken the initiative. He moved in closer and she pulled his cock inside her mouth, deeper. It swelled even more from the wet heat inside. Her tongue began to encircle the mushroomed head of his organ. His knees went weak.
"You make me want you even more when you suck me," he told her.
"I've never done this before," she said, releasing him for a moment.
"I know."
Back and forth her mouth went over the smooth hard cock, slicking it up like a greased pole. She enjoyed it because she knew it gave her man pleasure. Sucking him also made her own juices flow. She sat there on the edge of the bed, warming to her pleasant task, wanting him more with each slide of his cock.
When he thought he was going to explode, she stopped and lay back on the bed, her legs spread wide. He looked down at the raw flesh of her slit peeking from behind the bush of pubic hair. He could see the pink of her pussy. Without a word, he climbed over her and poked at her cunt with his prick. It slid in easily and she shivered with a sudden ecstasy.
It was later, after he had ejaculated and she had come more times than she could count, that he entered her from the rear, dog-fashion. It was a variation that they both enjoyed and served to bring them closer together. Later that night, after they had dined in their room, he performed cunnilingus on her and she came to a private decision. His tongue inside her pussy was far more satisfying than Andrea's, Mary's or Belle's. She knew that she had learned a valuable lesson of love from each woman, but Mark was her man and she knew that now. They went sixty-nine together and she was complete. Shortly before dawn, they made love in the conventional fashion, Mark was slow and tender. The orgasms weren't as numerous that time, but they were deeply satisfying. She felt, when Sunday morning came, that she had at last attained womanhood in the fullest sense.
"You've made me very happy," she told Mark.
"Do you think you could stand me for a long time?" he asked.
"I think I could," she answered, her heart lost somewhere in her chest. "Do you mean what I think you mean? Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," he said. "And I mean marriage, of course."
"Gee, this really is sudden," she said, her voice far away.
"Don't answer right now," he said. "Just think about it."
They both hated to go back to camp that afternoon.
Somehow Ginny stuck it out until the camp session ended. She met Mark on weekends and they either went to Thunderbird Lodge or to the woods. She realized that she had become very dependent on him. She was old enough to marry and it looked as though Mark was going to work in her father's firm. A phone call had confirmed that they were very anxious to see him when he returned to Los Angeles.
Her roughest time was with Andrea and Mary. Their hut had become very confining. Mary wondered why Ginny was snubbing her and Andrea had become angry. Still, Ginny kept her secrets to herself. Belle Stern gave her no more trouble, but her eyes were constantly staring at her and Ginny felt uncomfortable. Mark noticed the tension there and went to talk with Belle.
"Look," he told her, "I want you to lay off Ginny. She's mine and wants nothing further to do with you. You had your fun and it's over."
"You forget, sonny boy," Belle said. "I also had my fun with you. Did you tell her that?"
"Go fuck yourself, Belle," he said. "Pick on someone your own age."
That remark cut Belle Stern to the quick and she dismissed Mark with a disdainful air. She didn't want someone her own age. She longed for Ginny one more time. But, wisely, her eyes roamed to Andrea and she found that conquest easy and satisfying. Soon, she and Andrea were clandestine lovers. Mary knew about this and was sad. She had no one and didn't dare try to seduce another girl at camp. Instead, she pined alone, unrequitedly, for the lissome lovely Ginny.
Ginny was elected Queen of the Camp and Mark was very proud of her. That night, the next to last night in camp, he asked her to marry him. She agreed and they phoned her father from camp. He was happy for her, he said, and anxious to meet her man. She told him she wouldn't be coming back with Andrea, but would drive down with Mark on Saturday, when the summer session was officially over. Her mother gave her tear-filled consent, as well, and Ginny walked away from the phone booth on a cloud.
Ginny told Andrea the good news. "I'm not going back with you, Andy," she said. "Mark and I are going to be married this fall."
"Hey, great, man," said Andrea. "I've found my man, too."
"You have? You're getting married?" Ginny was surprised. "I've been so busy I haven't talked to you. Who is it?"
"You don't know him. I met him in the Village. His name is Tom Penrose. He plays wild guitar."
"How grand! I'm very happy for you. What made up your mind?"
"Sex frankly," laughed Andrea. "Tom's a tall lean, dark-haired guy who does things to me no one ever did before."
Ginny laughed. "I find that hard to believe with you. You've always been the leader in that department."
"You flatter me, kid," said Andrea. "But I never met anyone like Tom. He's very understanding and he's very cool. He's got a hit album going for him, has lots of bread and loves to ball. You know what he did to me?"
"I can't imagine."
"One night he took a guitar string, tied it to one of the strings on his guitar and put the end of it inside me. Then he played a fast song that drove me up the wall. The string had a little metal teat on it that touched my clit. Every time he banged a chord, I came! That's the wildest thing I've ever had done to me."
"I'll bet. Is sex all you have? Mark and I have love, too."
"Hey, Gin, you're not being a bitch, are you? Of course we love each other. But you can't make a marriage unless the sex is there too."
"I know," said Ginny wistfully. "I know. And, it's there, believe me."
She knew for sure when the camp emptied out on the last Saturday. She said goodbye to Mary and Andrea, a little sadly, but there were tears of happiness in her eyes too. Mary was very sweet, she thought. She wished her luck. Andy was on cloud nine and was bubbling to meet her Tom. They were getting married right away, she told Ginny, and were driving to Las Vegas to do it. '"Bye," she told Ginny.
"'Bye, Andy, good luck. Call me when you get back. I want to meet your guitar player."
Mary left that afternoon, too, after congratulating Ginny. She was very nice to Mark, too.
Even Belle Stern was nice to her. "You visit us sometime," she told Ginny. "You and Mark. I enjoyed both of you being here, this summer."
Mark cringed, but decided that Belle meant it.
They didn't leave right away. Ginny didn't want to. They stood there until the last bus and car had left. Belle had gone, too, and only the cooks and camp-people were left, busy cleaning up and getting ready for a quiet supper by themselves.
"Let's go back to our spot," she asked Mark. "One more time."
Delighted, Mark agreed. He filled the picnic basket by bribing the cooks and together they strolled away from the deserted camp. They looked back, as they left, a wistful expression on their faces.
"Deserted," he said.
"Deserted, thank heaven."
They both laughed together and climbed up the hill, leaving behind a host of memories.
It was just about 1:30 in the afternoon when they reached the glade. Neither of them was hungry. They were too full of each other, too full of the earth, the sky and the mountain forest. So they spread their blankets in the same spot they had been before and drank in the air, listened to the sounds of the wilderness.
Mark took Ginny in his arms and held her for a long time. Presently, her hand found its way to his lap and she unbuttoned his trousers. She took out his manhood and began kneading it between her fingers. It grew hard, rising out of his pants like a giant mushroom. She scooted away from Mark's arms and bent her blonde head over him. She took the stalk between her lips, kissing the tiny slit-hole with her tongue. She laved the head, as precoital seepings slicked it with their lemony juices.
"He wants you," Mark said.
"He will get me," she laughed. "I just wanted to be sure he was big enough. He used to be very small."
"He's big enough now."
"Undress me, lover."
"He might get small again."
"I'll make him grow."
Mark began undressing her. She was glad she had worn her capris because she wanted to wear a dress on the way back home. She wanted Mark to see her legs as he drove. She had become very aware of her body these past few weeks. Mark had told her that he was a leg man and a buttock man, more than a breast man. But with her, he said, he loved every part, especially that between her legs. Now, as he took her clothes off, she noticed that her camp T-shirt came off first, then her bra, her capris, and finally her shoes. He left the panties on as though saving the best for last and she liked that.
He kissed both breasts, letting his tongue linger over the nipples until they hardened like tiny thumbs. His hand glided to her panties, a bird seeking a nest. He rubbed over her mound and she felt a thrill caress her body. Wet from her eagerness seeped through, staining the pink crotch. He tugged the panties off and let them stay at half-mast just above her knees. Then he buried his face in her lap and nosed her slit like a bear rooting at a log. He sniffed and she had to laugh. She knew he was playing with her. Finally, he pulled her panties all the way off and hung them on a pine branch as if it were a flag.
Her hand went to his cock once more. It had not softened all the way, but it had slacked from its previous grandeur. She jacked it slowly, delighting in the surge of its blood as it stiffened once again. His hands warmed her crotch, rubbed the flesh of her lips until they were warm and swollen. A finger separated from the rest and plied the pussy portals. It found the tiny hole and pushed inside the love tunnel, into the steaming folds of eager flesh that seemed to flex in anticipation.
She unbuckled his belt and slid his trousers and shorts down so that his loins were exposed. Her hand busied itself on his rod, stroking it to a new rigidity. It looked to her like a polished object, fashioned for her special pleasure. She continued to marvel at its ability to stir her by its presence, either soft or hard. She loved that moment when it grew into full size. She loved it when it presented itself at her cunt for entrance and when it first entered her like some giant one-eyed beast searching a dark tunnel. Now she wanted him inside her and she lay on her back looking at the blue sky through the pine branches. She felt at peace with herself and with the world. She didn't have to tell Mark to mount her. He came, a moment later, and blotted out the sky, his handsome face appearing above hers.
"I'll take it slow," he told her, sliding his trousers away. He kept his shirt on.
"Yes" she responded rather shyly, then spread her legs wide and bent her knees slightly.
He put his hand under her buttocks and pulled her to him. His cock began at the top of her wet slit, pushing into the bony flesh there. Then it traveled down the zipper-like path to the hole. Mark slid inside her and felt the exquisite first surge of hot pleasure through his manhood. Ginny began unbuttoning his shirt. She put her hands inside on his bare chest and rubbed him the way he sometimes rubbed her breasts, both at once, with the full palms. Mark bent his back and sank his shaft to the hilt in her burning sheath.
Ginny bit her lip as the first sudden orgasm took her by surprise. She blinked back tears and gazed up at her future husband. Her lips formed the words, but there was no sound. "I love you," they said.
"I love you too," he echoed, silently.
They flowed into and around each other like a strong wind tide that gentles at the edge of the mountain forest. He stroked her slow as he had promised and Ginny could not hold back the devastating series of orgasms that hammered her body. Each time she jolted with pleasure it was as if a candle in her mind were being blown out by a searing zephyr. She went down into pools of ecstasy, lost and mindless, each time his cock traveled its length in her musky cave-cunt. Then she would return, up through Technicolor clouds fashioned of cotton candy, only to be stroked again to that nether world of happiness where the little death of love took her under for a split second.
Mark knew she was experiencing the deepest joy of her life. He looked at her each time he buried his cock and saw her eyes close, her mind drift away like a fragile leaf. She was like a woman drugged. Her eyes would flutter open as he withdrew, almost all the way, then would close again as he sank his prick deep and slow into her eagerly sucking pussy. His magic injection took her away from him but always brought her back.
He controlled his own urge to climax by glancing at the trees and the meadow each time her eyes closed. He wanted to make these moments last as long as he could for he knew it would be a long time before they could ever return to a secluded place like this. He was sure they would never return here to this spot again. But he was also sure that they would return to it many times in their minds. The place was theirs for all time. It would never go away. That's another reason why he wanted to see it all as he was making love to his Ginny. It was all part of their love scene and he wanted it to remain indelibly impressed on his memory.
Finally, when Mark felt that Ginny was fully satisfied, he increased his pumping speed. The change triggered her to become more active herself. She had enjoyed the passivity, the luxury of the slow steady orgasms, but now she was caught up in his urgency. She moved her hips from side to side and her cunt up and down. Their bodies smacked together where they joined. Mark felt his sperm explode from him. Ginny raked his shirted back with her nails, not hurting him through the heavy fabric.
At that moment he burst inside her, she topped all the other orgasms with the finest and largest of all. Her gasp told Mark that she had come with him to the pinnacle and over it. He was very glad. He kissed her and held her tight a long time.
They dressed slowly, looking at each other shyly, filled with a new wonder in each other. They munched halfheartedly on their picnic lunch, neither of them very hungry. They were too sated with each other's love and pleasantly weary from the sex. The wine exhilarated them, and, afterward, they shared a joint which did nothing for either of them. They were too high on each other to need the cannabis.
"Do we have to go?" she asked later.
"We should," he said.
"I could stay here forever."
"I know. It's hard to leave a place like this. Everything will be different when we get down the hill."
"We should come back sometime."
"We should. But we won't. We'll find another place," he smiled.
"We'll find lots of places, Mark."
"They'll be ours alone. Like this one."
Ginny got up and he rose with her. He picked up the basket and she took his hand. It was mid-afternoon when they started away from the glade. It was very still in the forest and neither of them spoke as they crossed the wide meadow. At the edge, before they began their trek down to the camp, they both paused. They looked back for a long time. Ginny squeezed Mark's hand and he squeezed back. It was over and they both knew it. They had to leave.
He looked at her when she turned around. Her eyes were wet. She sniffled. "Let's go," she said. "I'm ready."
Mark nodded and led her down the path away from their place in the mountain sun. The shadows began to gather around them as they walked slowly on. Finally, Ginny stopped and looked at Mark. She smiled, her eyes dry. Mark smiled back.
"It's going to be a good life," she told him.
"It is a good life."
"The best."
The sun splashed them through the pines as they walked faster. They bounced down the steep trail with a new step. Behind them, in the glade, the shadows stretched long across the land. The grasses, where they had lain, slowly bent back to drink in the last light of the day. There was just the faintest whisper of a breeze in the treetops. A lone doe came into the meadow, sniffed and gazed around. Satisfied, it began to feed. Soon it was joined by a magnificently antlered buck in velvet. The sun made his rack look like it was on fire when he raised it proud and high.
Below, near the camp, Ginny stopped once more. She looked up the slope one more time as if to make sure it was still there. That it was real. Mark waited. "I'm glad we went there," she said.
"I am, too," he agreed. "Good-bye mountains."
"Good-bye mountains."
The sunset came as they drove away from the camp. It took them away and darkened the places where they had been the past few weeks. They drove into the sunset and soon, too, they were gone. The wind whispered in the pines after they left as though saying farewell to them. Ginny thought that she could hear the susurrant sounds long after they had left the shadow of the mountains. She was sure that they were calling them back. She was sure that she and Mark would return someday.
