Chapter 3
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.