Girl Scout Camp Adventures by NetWanderer Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, acts, etc. used in this story are FICTIONAL. No resemblance to any persons living, dead, and otherwise is entirely coincidental. To the authorÕs knowledge this type of activity does NOT occur at any Scouts of America facility. Finally, this material is intended for reading and entertainment purposes only, and is NOT a recommendation of performing these types of activities. Comments: CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, comments, etc. are appreciated. Flames, etc. will be ignored. Chapter 4 - Did someone call for Roto Rooter? Well, by the fifth days, things had pretty much settled into routine, and after breakfast, I checked in with the office to see what the day held. To my surprise, there was a note from the director, asking me to stop by her office. Normally, IÊmet with the director every evening, before dinner, to go over the events of the day. I knew of nothing of import that had happened during the day, so needless to say, I was wondering what was up. Closing the door to my office, I walked across the main lobby, and knocked on the directorÕs door. "Come in." I heard her voice through the wood of the door. I opened the door and entered. Tracy (thatÕs the director) was sitting behind her desk. She was an attractive woman, probably 32 or so, about 5'11", maybe 120 lbs, long black hair, and some AMAZINGÊbreasts. Dragging my attention back up to her face, I tried to listen to what she had to tell me. Fortunately, it was nothing much. (I was afraid that she had somehow magically learned of my new leanings). Apparently, the maintenance work had gotten a bit piled up, and me being fairly good with such things, would IÊmind lending a hand. ÊWell, it sure beat paper shuffling, and I could use the exercise. I spent the rest of the morning doing fairly routine maintenance, like clearing brush, minor repairs, and suchlike. I had gotten to be pretty good friends with the head maintenance guy, Mike, so I didnÕt get stuck with the truly disgusting jobs, like trash collection. After lunch, I was planning on getting back to the woods, when Mike called me over. Apparently, one of the showerhouses was having a plumbing problem, and he didnÕt trust his other guys to handle it, nor did he have time. ÒNo problem,Ó I said, grabbed a set of plumbing tools, and headed off to the 13+ age campsite. Yelling to make sure the coast was clear, I went into the bath house, and hung a sign on the outside of the door, warning the girls that I was in there. Apparently, the hot water pressure was low, which usually meant an air bubble somewhere in the system, which could cause REAL problems later (boom!). The simplest way was to bleed the whole system, one segment at a time. I stripped down to bathing trunks, and got to work, opening valves at each segment of the water system and checking for air pressure. The way our showerhouses were set up, there were three rooms, one with sinks and toilet stalls, one larger room with the showerheads running down the middle, and a combination entry/towel room which also had the water heating equipment. The entire building was elevated about 16 inches to allow for access to the plumbing beneath. In this particular showerhouse, the pipes to the shower area ran INSIDE a wall, with about 12 inches of clearance, and OFÊCOURSE one of the access valves was at the far end of the wall. Mumbling curses at the person who designed this system, I stuffed myself into the wall, and began slithering down to the other end, a distance of about 12 feet. As I was about halfway there, I heard the sound of girlÕs voices and footsteps entering the building. I started to call out to warn them of my presence, apparently they had missed the sign, but the dust that had piled up in the crawlspace lodged in my throat, and I could only manage a choking gasp. Before I could clear my throat to try again, I heard their voices as they stepped into the shower area. Directly in front of me, there was a small gap where the wall boards did not fit together correctly, and I had a clear view of the center portion of the shower room. My jaw must have hit the floor. Directly exposed to my now staring eyes was a group of totally naked teens. Any thoughts of calling out were quickly forgotten as my eyes took in the collection of bare asses, breasts, and pussies that were displayed in front of me. I lost view of most of them as they spread out to the various shower heads, but one girl stood directly in front of me. I had seen her around camp before, but was not sure what her name was, and to be frank, I didn't really care at that point. She stood facing away from me as she washed her hair, giving me a perfect view of her wet ass as the water ran down. Every time she tilted her head back to rinse out the shampoo, I could just see the sides of her breasts. ÊBased on their moderate size, I guessed she was 15 years old or so. After she finished washing her blonde hair, she bent over to pick up her soap from the dish on the floor, and my breath literally stopped as her pussy was exposed to me. She was a natural blonde. I started to breath as she stood up again, and began to soap her body. She started at the bottom, taking care to fully wash each foot and leg, running her soapy hands over every muscle. Every time she bent over slightly, or flexed her legs, I got a tantalizing view of her young cunt. Her hands moved up to her ass, making sure to soap the crack between her cheeks, and then moved up to do her back. As she turned to rinse off her back, I was treated to a wonderful view of her soaking body. Water was dripping off her pink nipples, and I followed the drops down to her cunt, which was also dripping. My eyes quickly returned to her chest as she began to soap each breast, running the bar over first one, then the other. At this point, I had to shift within the wall space to make room for my erection, which was stronger and harder than any I had ever had in my life. Somehow, I felt it grow even more as I watched her hand move down to clean between her legs. Unfortunately, my view was lost as she turned around to rinse, and then moved off to get her towel. I had some nice glimpses of other female flesh as the girls walked past to exit the shower area. Once I heard them all leave the building, I had to wait until my breath, and my pants returned to normal, finished up my work, and exited. Yes, that WAS the bad valve. On the way out of the building, I noticed that my sign was laying in the muddy dirt under the shower house. There were no tears in the sign where the thumbtack had been, so I knew some joker had removed it. Not that I was complaining. Gathering up my gear, I headed back to the shop, then my cabin, so 'I' could get a shower. After dropping off the tools, I returned to my cabin, and found a note pinned to the door. Reading it as I entered my room, I collapsed on the bed in shock. "Did you like the show I set up for you? I moved your sign, didn't think you'd mind. More to come. Andy." END Chapter 4 As you may have noticed, I'm not much for dialogue, but I'll take a stab at it later. Bear with me. Please Next Chapter: Our hero and his lady have a chat, endless possibilities are revealed, and dangers are noted.