Chapter 2

Outside the thin walls of the camp director's cabin, some forty-five young men worked to prepare Camp Bernhardt for the onslaught of campers. Inside, Lorraine stood alone with her husband, this stranger she had known for only a few short weeks, preparing to embrace him and make love to him.

It seemed strange to her somehow. She had not yet grown accustomed to the fact of her marriage. She was only twenty-three, and had had different plans for her life. Then Gary had come along, unexpectedly, and everything had changed. Instead of being in Europe on her own, as she had planned, she was in the mountains, at a scout camp, wedded to a man she hardly knew. She was still getting used to his looks-it was difficult to conjure his image in her mind's eye when they were apart. Yet when they were apart, she longed for him.

Gary slipped the bolt of the cabin door home, locking out any interference, then turned and smiled at her. "God, you're beautiful," he said.

He closed in on her, and eased his arms around her waist. Playfully, she resisted his gentle urgings that she embrace him, then finally gave in, throwing her arms around his neck. Their lips met, and he parted hers with his tongue, which sought the warmth and moistness inside her mouth.

Like swords their tongues fenced, and he shivered at the softness of hers, the way it molded and moved around his, curling his inside of it and easing it back and forth. Her hands massaged his neck, smoothing away knots of tension brought on by the sight of his demolished dune buggy. She continued the massage with one hand, allowing the other to slip down to his belly, caressing it, then further down to his crotch, where a solid bulge had formed. As she enclosed her hand over the stiffness in his pants, he groaned, and the groan vibrated inside her mouth, and she squeezed gently.

He broke the kiss off, but her tongue remained out of her mouth, anxious for the taste of him. She licked his lips, then saw his gently closed eyes, and lay the flat of her tongue over his eyelids, one at a time. She licked a line from his eye to his ear, then burrowed her tongue inside his ear, hot breath expelling from her hot mouth, flowing inside his ear and sending hot shock waves through his brain.

He allowed his hands to glide from her waist to her ass, each hand filling with a cheek, perfectly sized for his grip. Her cheeks were firm and round, and as he squeezed them, she raised herself up on her toes, pulled by the urgency of his kneading hands.

Through his pants, she felt the strong, solid shape of his cock, and felt the soft, roundness of his sperm-bloated testicles. She wanted him badly; she wanted him inside of her now.

She was amazed at herself. Prior to meeting Gary, Lorraine's interest in sex had been next to nil. Not that she was a prude, far from it. It was just that she had always been a dreamy girl, too busy with her plans and her thoughts to care much for the here and now.

She had always had a healthy interest in men, but they always came on too strong. They seemed more interested in her pear-shaped, fleshy breasts than in her hopes and aspirations. That turned her off. Even on those occasions when she felt horny, she relieved the tension with images in her mind, because that was so less urgent and real than finding a man to satisfy her. She liked keeping reality at a safe distance.

But Gary had been different. He had wanted her body, true, but he had been equally interested in what she thought, and what she wanted out of life. And on top of that, his own hopes were not far from hers.

There was a special connection between them, and on their third date, she decided she loved him and had to have him.

Like she was about to have him now. Her head was tilted back, and his lips were pressed firmly against her milky, soft throat. His lips parted and the hard tip of his tongue darted out, leaving a warm, wet mark on her neck, then his teeth clamped down gently on her flesh, and she moaned. As she stood on her toes, relishing the manly grip of his hands on her handful-sized cheeks, the legs of her shorts strained upward, and she felt the pressure of the material against her own crotch. He hugged her tight, her aroused little pussy, and the crotch seam rubbed hard against the slippery slit of her cunt, like a thin, soft finger. She moaned again, the sound coming from deep in her throat.

The fabric of her shorts felt good against the inner, pink skin of her vagina, but it frustrated her as well. Being new to sex, she didn't want it terribly often, but when she was ready, she wanted it without hesitation. It was a new world to her, and when her mind was focused on her husband's thick, long cock, it was all she could think of and all that she wanted.

His member had grown larger in her hand, but was still trapped by the confines of his clothing, as was her own cunt. She pressed her thighs together, and felt moisture between her legs, and she knew her excitement had brought forth a geyser of female lubricants, flooding her pussy and making it hot and itchy.

Gary took his hands away from her ass and brought them to the bottom of her tee-shirt, and shoved it up over her breasts. The bunched-up shirt remained suspended below her neckline, supported by her milky, smooth tits, and Gary knelt halfway so his face was confronted by her nipples, pointing erectly at him, urging him to manipulate them. He took one breast in the cup of both hands and held it up, so the tense nipple was aimed at him. His thumbs flicked over it for a minute, stiffening it even further, and raising ripples in the brown circle of flesh that surrounded the nipple. Then he opened his mouth and took the solid tit onto the tip of his tongue, and closed his mouth over it.

Lorraine clutched handfuls of Gary's hair and closed her eyes, feeling his tongue curl around her hard nipple, his teeth close gently over it, nibbling lightly, his lips sucking gently and steadily. "Oh, God, Gary, it feels so good," she groaned. "So good, so very good." She held his hair with one hand; with the other she massaged the breast left unattended by Gary's mouth, her fingers pulling that nipple to erection. Her head hung back, her long hair cascading down like a shiny, blonde waterfall, and her glistening lips were parted just a crack, her tongue gliding sensuously over her upper lip.

Gary slid his hand under her breast and held it up, so he could free his other hand. It slid down her belly, which was incredibly soft, like a baby's bottom; his hand touched the top of her shorts, and fumbled for the button. He found it and undid it, then slowly dragged the zipper down, revealing the tight, soft curls of her triangular pubic mound.

The tight shorts did not slip down the length of her sinewy, tapering legs, though even with the zipper pulled down to its bottom. Biting a little harder on her stony nipple, eliciting guttural mews from his young, undersexed wife, he slipped two fingers into the opening created by the separated zipper, and burrowed them into the downy curls of her cuntal hair.

Her hands stopped moving, stunned into stillness by the touch of her man's fingers. He pried gently at her sizzling vaginal lips, pulling them apart without hurting her, without tugging at the curls of hair that were now damp from her juices. His fingers turned warm and wet, making it easier to glide between her lips, and he ran his digits up and down the slit of her pussy, opening the lips farther and deeper with each tender stroke he took.

Lorraine's hands became active again, both of them on his head, clenching fistfuls of his hair, pushing his head down. Wanton arousal overtook her, and she yearned for his face to lavish its attention on her sensation-ridden cunt.

Gary allowed himself to be pushed, manipulated downward.

The closer his face came to her loins, the stronger the scent of her inflamed pussy became. He inhaled it deeply, and the odor swam in his head, making his brain light and his thoughts far-off and confused. His nose finally connected with her fleecy pubic hairs, and he jutted his tongue out, and droplets of female lubricant that had settled on the hairs danced on his taste buds, arousing an animalistic desire inside him.

As he had done with his fingers, he used his tongue to force her pink pussy lips apart, then thrust it between the moist, creamy slit and dug deeper inside. He heard a hiss escape her lips as she felt his serpent-like tongue explore within her vagina, licking down into the depths of the cavernous cunt, then pulling up and finally locating her tiny clitoris. He curled his tongue around the miniscule button, and tugged at it. His lips meanwhile pressed tight against the slippery inner skin of her cuntal lips, and sucked, putting pressure from the suction on the clitoris trapped in the curl of his tongue. She felt her clitoris enlarge, throbbing with delight and anguished pleasure as he pulled and sucked, his hands reaching up between her obscenely spread legs and clutching her cheeky buttocks once again.

She was unaware of it, but she was grinding her hips, mashing her vulva into Gary's wet, active mouth. He could hardly breathe, but he didn't care; all that mattered was the tantalizing, delicious cunt he was eating. If there was no oxygen at all, he thought, I could live on Lorraine's sweet, sweet pussy.

She bobbed up and down, virtually fucking her husband's face, delighting in the activity her clitoris was being put through. Her moans were more frequent now, and she pressed her soft, milk-white thighs against his cheeks when she felt the climax building up inside her. It mounted like artillery fire, pounding in her ears and pulsating through the dark recesses of her tight, sopping little hole, and finally exploded like a nuclear weapon, bringing on waves of shudders as she nearly tore tufts of Gary's hair from his head.

She slowly allowed her breathing to return to normal, and relished the long, stroking licks Gary gave her as he drank in the fluids she discharged in the course of her orgasm. She realized by the shaky unsteadiness of her legs, the jelly-like consistency of her knees, that she was still standing, that Gary was kneeling between her lewdly splayed legs. She released his hair and replaced her hands on his shoulders, and eased herself down, until she was laying on her back. The tee-shirt remained hiked over her breasts, her legs remained spread wide, the folds and curls of pink-red inner-pussy skin clearly displayed for her husband.

She could count on both hands the number of times he had gone down on her, and there weren't many more instances that they had engaged in coitus, since they hadn't been together too very long. But she wanted him now, another notch in the belt, another finger to add to the count. "Take your cock out," she hissed, her eyes closed and her hips arched so high up that her buttocks were poised in mid-air, inches above the floor. "Take it out and put it in me. Oh, God, Gary, fuck me hard."

Gary, on his knees, fumbled with his own pants, and when he had released the belt and the button and the zipper, his meaty shaft sprang free, rigid and quivering. Lorraine reached out and wrapped her long, i .elicate fingers around the thick width of the member, and felt it pulsate as hot streams of blood gushed through it. She traced a light line along the underside of his penis, and felt it dance in response to her touch, then cradled his sperm-laden balls in the palm of her hand, mesmerized by the motions they made. They twisted and twirled and turned and curled, and she closed her hand around both of them and felt them throbbing in time with the pulsating of his long, lovely shaft.

She looked between her splayed legs as though sighting down the barrel of a rifle, and examined with lustful eyes the spear poised and ready to penetrate her. She used both hands to peel back the layer of foreskin, then with her thumb she wiped away the drop of seminal fluid that had formed over the pinhole at the crown of his cock, and thrust her thumb in her mouth, sucking the salty stuff from her hand and swallowing it, languishing in the ecstatic sensation the taste sent through her.

Then she fell back, her head arched backward so her chin pointed toward the ceiling. "Now, for God's sake, now."

He towered over her, his bulk looming like an ominous shadow, and as he settled down toward her, covering her, she almost cowered. But the warmth from his body, the moistness from his sweat touched her, and it was familiar and it comforted her. She reached between her legs when she felt the hairs of his chest touch her sensitive nipples, and grasped his cock once again, guiding it directly between the already-lubricated walls of her hair-fringed fissure.

She whimpered as its thickness impaled her, driving deeper and deeper inside of her gaping hole. When he stopped penetrating her, she wrapped her legs around his ass and squeezed them, driving him in that extra inch, and she felt the crown of his solid prick jut against the upper roof of her cunt.

She relaxed her legs and let him slide out, only to fall on her again, his belly slapping against hers, his testicles bouncing off the end of her buttocks, where her cheeks ended and her pussy began. His cock rammed into her, stroking along her revitalized clitoris, then withdrew, again caressing her rocky little pleasure button.

She squirmed against the cold linoleum floor, and raked Gary's back with her long, exquisite nails as he pumped her, filling her with his cock and then vacating her dark, moist cavern, only to thrust in again and occupy her, making her feel like she would surely burst from his fullness.

Her sensitive pussy felt his cock expand, thicken even more than it had, and she knew he was near orgasm. She placed her cool, dry palms on his cheeks and turned his head toward hers and kissed him, digging her pillowy tongue into his mouth and licking at his gums, the roof of his mouth, his own jiggling tongue.

He tried to wrench his head away as he came, so he could cry out from the pleasure he felt, but she kept his mouth locked to her own, their tongues intertwined, tasting each other's wetness. His body was racked with shudders as he pounded his cock even deeper into her, shooting a load of hot, sticky semen into her that she felt flooding the insides of her cunt. It filled her, and oozed out around his slowly shrinking penis, dribbling warm and thick down her buttocks, on her creamy thighs.

Her own climax was near, and she released his head but kept her legs tightly wrapped around his waist, keeping his weakening erection buried inside her. At first he tried to pull away, pull out, but when he saw the expression on her face, he mustered what strength he had and pumped her again.

Her face looked as though she was about to cry, that tears were welling up behind her lightly closed eyes, that weeping was trapped behind her slightly parted, moist lips. Her breathing quickened, and Gary urged her on by whispering to her, "Come on baby. Squirm, and feel that cock inside you. Feel it, Lorraine, can't you feel it jammed up against that little clit of yours?"

Now her breath had sound to it, high whimpers of anguish, and her hips were rocking in motion with his thrusts. Then, suddenly, she thrust her hips up, lifting Gary off the ground, and she screamed as her orgasm burst through her, like fireworks going off in her pussy.

She settled slowly back on the floor, and let her legs slip limp to the floor. Gary rolled off her, but lay next to her, his arms around her. His cock, coated with her juices mingled with his own cum, lay flaccid on her belly, turning cold. She held him and loved him. Things were so good.

Barry had found it difficult to keep his eyes off Lorraine Kemper during dinner, so he moved to a table where he would have his back to her. He would drown his flaming desire for her, he knew, that night at the attitude adjustment. He ate without appetite, and didn't look terribly interested when Gary sat down across from him and looked at him with parental concern.

"I've got it figured out," Gary told him. "Got what figured out?"

"The dune buggy. What we're going to do about it."

Barry watched his older friend, waiting for the die to be cast. It would take him years to save enough money to pay Gary back for the wreck. But that wasn't what Gary had in mind. "We're going to rebuild it, you and I. From scratch."

"Here?" Barry said, his interest peaked and his voice incredulous.

"Right here. We'll arrange to have the same days off, and we'll do one hell of a hang-up job. Lorraine thinks it's a good idea, too."

Barry mulled it over. "Man, I thought you were going to make me buy you a new one."

Gary shrugged. "It's my own fault it wasn't insured.

You interested in giving me a hand?"

Barry smiled. "Sounds great," he said. "It even sounds fun. Christ, we'll make it even better than it was!"

"That's the ticket," Gary said, and they shook hands. After dinner, Stewart Roberts, still wearing his swim shorts but with a long-sleeved shirt over it, nudged Barry and said, "Don't forget."

"I'll be there," Barry said.

He sat in his tent, trying to ignore his tent partner, until it was time for the attitude adjustment. His partner was a first-year staffer, a snot-nosed fifteen-year-old kid who was on the verge of tears because he was homesick, petrified at the prospect of being away from home all summer. That disgusted Barry, who looked forward to Camp Bernhardt every year simply so he could get away from home for a few blessed months.

The staff tents stood about six feet high at the center beam, and sloped down to about four feet at the side walls, then fell straight to wooden platform floors. There was room enough for two cots, two lockers and a lot of junk, including stereos and other necessities. There was also room enough to pace in small circles, which Barry did until the sun had set and a chill had filled the mountain air.

He donned a light jacket with his name stenciled over the left breast and headed out. "Where ya goin?" his roommate asked.

"Fuck off," he said. First-year staffers weren't good for much except verbal abuse. They didn't know the system, they tended to rat on you if they caught you breaking the rules, and they were generally goodie-goods. It took a full summer at camp before a staffer could be truly accepted among those who were back for a second, third, fourth or even fifth term.

Barry wound his way through the camp, following one of many dirt paths, and finally he was outside the boundaries of the camp. The air was crisp, and he buried his hands in his jacket pocket as he crossed a paved road, then scurried down an embankment to where water was running. The water was a creek, and Barry skipped across it, and followed a trail about half a mile up the creek, to a series of rocks. On one huge, flat rock, eight staffers were assembled, along with a number of bottles.

"Aw, so you started without me," Barry said sarcastically.

"Couldn't wait," Stewart Roberts said. Roberts was now wearing jeans and a jacket similar to Barry's, and held a pint of whiskey in his hand. Most of the liquor was gone, but Stewart did not seem drunk in the least. He was renown for his cast-iron stomach; Barry once watched him chug-a-lug a fifth of mescal, and not show the effects at all.

As Barry sat down, Stewart passed the bottle to him, and he finished it off. Immediately, a warm glow filled him.

Ahh, he thought. Nothing like an attitude adjustment.

Conversation turned instantly to Gary Kemper's new wife. Stewart said he'd like to get into her pants. So would I, Barry thought, somewhat ashamed of himself. So would I.

Not everybody took part in attitude adjustments. Most of the staff lay around in their tents, reading or listening to music or bullshitting. Gary was deep in conversation with Bill Matlock, the camp's program director, and Lorraine was bored.

Her pussy was still alive from the balling it had taken a few short hours ago, and it had been too recent an encounter for her to enjoy dinner. Now she was finding it hard to sit still. Drops of semen still dripped occasionally from between the lips of her cunt, making her squirm. She could have watched television, but they were too high in the mountains for decent reception, and the camp ranger had the only television in the vicinity.

She opted to take a walk. Unfamiliar with most of the camp, she got her bearings and just started walking, unaware that she was headed in the direction of the staff area.

She strolled between the rows of tents, her arms folded across her breasts, listening to the sounds of the staff. They laughed and sang, and music of a variety of kinds poured out of the tents, and she smiled at the innocence and carefree sounds.

Curiosity suddenly gripped her; she wondered what it looked like inside one of those tents. Several were dark, and she guessed because of the early hour that the occupants were out carousing, or still working as diligent scouts have been known to do.

She selected a dark tent and approached it, and pulled open the flap. It was not, as she had expected, unoccupied.

A girl was on one of the two cots, naked, her auburn hair flowing over her shoulders. She was on her knees, her elbows on the bed, her hands clawing the sheets of the cot. Her ass was hoisted high in the air, and her legs were spread.

Between them, on his knees and hovering above and behind her, was one of the staffers she had seen. His erect penis was invisible inside her spread cunt, and he was hammering it into her. She was moaning softly, a piece of blanket clamped between her teeth to keep her from making too much noise. Her spherical breasts swung freely beneath her, and each time he slammed his glistening meaty member into her vagina, she shoved her ass back, doubling the impact of his thrust.

His hands were latched onto her cheeky buttocks, and the cot squeaked and groaned from their exertive efforts. "My God," Lorraine said.

The boy whirled, and his penis slipped out of her pussy, and at the same instant he came, shooting a jet of his viscous male sperm in her direction. It splattered on the carpeted floor of the tent.

The girl he was fucking opened her eyes and Lorraine saw they were glazed and hazy. "Hey.. . " the girl said, objecting to the disappearance of the erection that had been pummeling her.

Lorraine turned and started to run, but stopped when she saw a familiar figure. Bob Shuster, the maintenance director, was walking up one of the rows toward her, unaware that she was there.

"Mr. Shuster!" she cried. Bob saw her, smiled, his white teeth shining in the moonlight, and waved.

"This is no place for one of the ladies," he said. "This is the staff area."

"Mr. Shuster, one of the young members of the staff . . . I caught.. . I found him engaging in sex with a girl in his tent!"

Shuster frowned. "Where?" he said.

Lorraine pointed out the tent, where a light had gone on.

"Don't worry," he said, patting her reassuredly on her shoulder. "I'll take care of it. But take my advice. If you want to know anything going on in the staff area, send your husband. It's restricted to males, you know."

"Tell that to the young lady in that tent!" she said, shocked.

"Oh, don't you worry, Mrs. Kemper. I certainly will. You go on back to your cabin now, and I'll handle this."

She turned and left the staff area, but not before looking over her shoulder to make certain Shuster was as good as his word.

He was. The last she saw of him before returning to her cabin, he had his head poked in the tent. Young scouts should set an example, she thought. She knew sex was prevalent among teenagers, but not at a scout camp. That was unthinkable!

She felt a flash of guilt, remembering suddenly that she and Gary had engaged in passionate lovemaking not more than a couple of hours earlier. But then again, they were married, even if it didn't feel like they were. And they were old enough. She would not allow herself to be smug about the pleasure she could have and the youths at the camp could not, but by the same token, she would not deprive herself of those pleasures on their behalf. Fair was fair.

Feeling better, she went inside her cabin, where a fire had reduced itself to hot coals. Settling beside the fire, she pulled an afghan over herself, switched on a bare light bulb attached to the wall, and opened a book. Soon, she was dozing peacefully.

Bob Shuster watched Lorraine walk back toward her cabin, admiring the wiggle in her walk, and the shape of her long, bronze legs. When she was far enough away, he opened the flap of the tent she had pointed out. He noticed her looking to make sure he would do something, and he watched her nod approvingly and shuffle off. In a minute, she was out of sight.

Goddamned prude, Shuster thought. Well, I'll just have to do something about that.

In the tent, the staff member was hastily pulling on some pants, and the girl was huddled under blankets on the cot. "It's all right," Shuster said, leering at the girl. "She's gone. You're from the church camp across the lake, I take it?"

The girl, nearly frozen with fear, nodded.

"Well, don't let me stop you," Shuster said. "Go on and finish what you were doing."

"I . . . er . . . I already finished," the boy said sheepishly, nodding toward the cum stains on the carpeted floor of the tent.

The girl, who looked slightly older than him, whipped her head around at him. "Good for you," she said, acid in her voice. "I didn't."

"Well," Shuster said, grinning widely, "maybe I can do something about that."

He stepped into the tent, hunched over just slightly; his long frame was taller than the tent, and he made his summertime home in a corner of the maintenance shed.

"Wait a minute," the boy said, but Shuster shot him a cold, hard look that shut him up instantly. Most of the boys liked their jobs at Bernhardt, and they all knew that Shuster was one of the men who could lose those jobs for them.

He whipped the covers off the girl, and admired her body. The sweat she had produced during her intercourse with the boy had started to dry, and looked like a shiny coat of lubricant covering her. Shuster unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, tugging on it with his big, calloused hands as he looked at her squirming on the cot. He pulled on it until it was large, and the blue veins stood out and the blood coursed through them, throbbing with wanton desire.

"Turn over," he said.

The girl was staring awesomely at his prick, his hand wrapped around the base, holding it steady. Shuster turned to the boy and said, "Now watch how the men do it."

The girl turned over, partly out of fear, partly out of desire, the need to finish what she had begun with the boy. She hiked her buttocks into the air, her head rested on her arms. Shuster walked to her, steadying his meaty shaft with his fist, and walked the spear-like member directly between the two quivering pussy lips that awaited it.

She sucked breath in as he slid his thick, pulsating cock deeper up her vaginal cavern, stunned at its size and the way it filled her, stuffed her.

Each of her buttock cheeks made for one handful of flesh, and Shuster grabbed them, and used them as handles to push her away and drag her back; he stood still and maneuvered her hot, aroused little cunt back and forth over his stiff penis. Her lubricants flowed, and made sucking sounds as he fucked her steadily, like a machine. She moaned low and throatily, and felt her sopping pussy heat up even more when she opened her eyes and saw the boy she had been balling originally was stroking his newly-erect cock at the sight of her and Shuster.

She shuddered at the combined sensation, Shuster pumping her like a jackhammer from behind, her boyfriend pulling on his own stiff shaft in front of her. The shudder increased, and she fell into a rhythm with

Shuster's manipulation of her, until she came with a muffled scream as she buried her head in the pillow on the cot.

The boy came too, at the sight of her orgasm, and his fresh load of sticky, hot cum sprayed out across her hair and forehead, and the feel of it prolonged her ecstasy, sending waves of quivers through her spine.

But Shuster was not finished. He continued to pummel her well after she had climaxed, and his stiff, thick cock was beginning to hurt. She whimpered, hoping he would get the message and finish quickly, but it encouraged him only to hammer into her even harder. She clutched the sheets of the cot as her agony increased, and Shuster smiled as he saw it, and intensified his pumping. Finally, he felt his cock swell with blood and semen, the flood of warmth flowing from his testicles up the base of his penis and along the shaft, glimmering from its coating of pussy juice.

He came hard, slamming his pelvis against her ass, shooting his creamy cum far up into her. She cried a little, as she felt it invading her, but sighed deeply when Shuster withdrew his cock with a lewd plop.

"Now I suggest you get back to your camp," Shuster told her, slapping her buttocks and leaving a red mark where he hit her.

She rose, covering herself with a sheet, and nodded. Shuster grinned again as he hitched up his pants and left the tent.

It's going to be a good summer, he thought contentedly.