Chapter 5
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.