Chapter 4
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.