Chapter 3
"Anyhow," Bill Mitchell continued, "I don't think you have to worry too much about Greg acting up anymore. I had him in for a long talk this morning—the usual you've-been-a-bad-boy stuff, you know—and though he is a pretty fair sized pain in the ass he's also pretty mature, at least for a thirteen year old. So I don't think you have to worry about his acting up. But if he does please don't hesitate to bring him in to see me, Sharon. I mean, this is a boy's camp, not a reformatory. We might not want his type around."
Sharon nodded her head quickly in agreement and tried to concentrate on what the camp director was saying. But it was very difficult. It was now eleven in the morning, and for the past half hour the two of them had been sitting in Bill's administrator's tent, discussing some of the problems Sharon had been having with her boys. Several times already Bill had made good suggestions that were bound to help her, but Sharon knew already that she would forget every single one of them as soon as she got outside the tent. All she could think of was how badly she wanted Bill Mitchell to be her lover, and what might be the best possible way of seducing him.
Her desire for him seemed to be growing more and more ravenous with every day that passed. He was not, Sharon was the first to admit, a particularly handsome man. Bill was forty years old, and contrary to the TV/Hollywood image there were really very few men that old who weren't starting to show their age. But in a way his looks hardly mattered. The important thing was that Sharon had identified him as a good eligible bachelor the moment she saw him, and as such he had simply been equated with the frustrated widow's need for emotional and sexual fulfillment. It was like Pavlov's experiments, Sharon thought wistfully; the dogs would begin salivating hungrily as soon as the professor rung the bell, even though there was no instinctive connection between the noise and food at all.
"Vincent Moretti," Bill continued. He held up the boy's file and scrutinized it carefully. Then he put it on his desk and looked at Sharon. "You say this kid is giving you trouble too?"
"Hmmmm?" Sharon queried absent-mindedly. "Oh Vincent, yes, oh yes, he's really been a chore."
"What's he been doing?"
"Oh," Sharon shrugged, "calling attention to himself, shouting out when I try to give directions, that sort of thing. The way boys do, you know."
"Well, I'll tell you what you do," Bill said easily. He smiled and confidently leaned forward in his chair, acting like someone very proud of his knowledge. "This is kind of like tricking him in a way, but the main thing is that is almost always works. You reward him. Next time Vince gives you any trouble you look at him real sternly, tell him you want to see him after the period. Ten'll get you one that'll scare the crap out of him; these aren't bad kids, they aren't used to being punished, I guarantee you he'll spend the next half hour in fear of what you're going to do. Then ... "
Sharon stopped listening. Instead she bit her lower lip with frustration and glanced nervously between Bill's desk and his spacious (comparatively) cot. She just couldn't stand it anymore. Bill wasn't acting sexual at all, but just being around him made her so horny that she could hardly control herself. Under her cotton blouse her nipples were distended stiffly against her brassiere, and she could feel the pouting lips of her moist pussy throbbing wetly with the need for copulation. Oh God, Sharon thought pleadingly, please don't let me make a fool of myself. She didn't like to be the aggressor sexually, but now it was as if she didn't have any choice. All she knew was that she couldn't wait a moment longer.
Oh well, Sharon thought, smiling with brave humor. It was the oldest trick in the book, but it would have to do for now ...
"Owwwww!" Sharon exclaimed suddenly.
"Hmmm?" Bill said. He dropped Moretti's file and looked at Sharon with automatic concern. "What's wrong?"
"It's ... owwwwww! A cramp!" Sharon said. She winced in simulated agony and fiercely rubbed the naked, milk white flesh of her shapely right thigh, bare to the hem of her khaki shorts. "Oh God it hurts! Ow-wwwwww! Oh please Bill, help me!"
"Sit on the bed," Bill said immediately. He stood up and walked around the side of the desk. His forehead was already knitted with concern, and Sharon was sure that her plan would work; he would help her get out the "cramp" and in so doing would get very, very close to her body.
"Can't you stand up?" Bill said.
"I'll ... uh ... try," Sharon replied. She started to rise from the chair, then made her face look even more agonized. "Owwwwwww!" she moaned. "Oh God Bill, it really hurts!"
"Here," Bill said. He took Sharon's arm and half led, half carried her to the cot. He sat her down on the edge of the mattress and immediately knelt on the ground, which served as the floor even in the director's tent. Then he roughly splayed her thighs apart and looked at the soft, ivory smooth flesh of her inner thigh with all the detached concentration of a doctor. "Now you just tell me where it hurts."
"Owwwww!" Sharon said. She winced and delicately touched a spot less than six inches from the hem of her shorts. "Right here. Ooooooh! It really hurts!"
"That's okay," Bill said. "We'll get that cramp out in a jiffy. I didn't lead Outward Bound for a year for nothing."
Smiling sympathetically, Bill leaned forward and delicately touched the resilient flesh of Sharon's inner thigh. He pushed the fingers of both hands into it and began to knead it gently, probing into her quadriceps muscles.
"There," he said soothingly. "That should be feeling a little better. Does it, Sharon?"
Sharon shuddered and bit her lip before answering. It did, in fact, feel better; in truth, it was already beginning to feel incredibly good. Except for an occasional handshake this was the first time Bill had ever touched her naked body, and his warm, powerful, masculine touch was even better than Sharon had imagined it. As he worked on her inner thigh she could feel her hair fringed cuntal fissure anointing with the juices of her arousal, her clitoris stiffening and pulsing against the fabric of her shorts. She only hoped Bill got the idea in a hurry; if he didn't Sharon might get so horny she'd practically have to rape him!
"Is that better, Sharon?" Bill asked.
"Owwwwww!" Sharon moaned. She winced and looked at the camp director pleadingly. "Higher up, Bill. Ouch! I can hardly stand it!"
Bill lifted his hands and dutifully began rubbing Sharon's thigh at the very edge of her cutoffs, only a few inches away from her pubic triangle. Sharon hunched her buttocks delicately to the edge of the cot and splayed her thighs even farther apart, making it easier for Bill to massage her. She hoped that he'd start to get horny any moment. The cleft of her vaginal slit was clearly visible through the shorts, and there was no way that Bill could avoid looking at it in his position. If he was any kind of man at all, Sharon thought, he'd start to get turned on. He just had to!
"Is that any better?" Bill asked.
"A little," Sharon said. She squirmed on the cot, purposefully bringing her pubic mound closer to Bill's face, and stopped wincing. "Yes, that's a little better. You don't have to rub as hard now."
Bill continued rubbing Sharon's thigh for several more seconds. Then Sharon saw him glance at her pussy lips through the shorts, and then, suddenly, everything in his expression seemed to change completely. His studious look became nervous and distracted. His face quickly began to look flushed and sweaty with sexual excitement, and Sharon saw him glance several times at the indentation of her vagina.
"Bill?" Sharon asked queryingly. She smiled happily and suppressed a giggle of amusement at Bill's confusion. "Is there something wrong? You look all hot and flushed."
"Oh, no," Bill said disarmingly. He shrugged and continued rubbing away Sharon's imaginary cramp, doing his best to look unperturbed. But it was obvious that he was not just as horny as Sharon was. His cheeks were red, and as Sharon watched him he shifted his legs nervously; perhaps, she thought hopefully, to conceal the bulge of a meaty erection in his slacks.
"Are you sure, Bill?" Sharon asked. "You don't look quite well."
"Oh, I'm fine," Bill replied quickly. But his voice shrilled noticeably with nervousness, and he must have realized as well as Sharon how obvious it was. "Well, to tell you the truth," he said hesitantly. He laughed and shook his head, as if amused by his own excitement.
"What is it, Bill?"
"Well, you do have very nice legs, if you don't mind my saying so," Bill said softly. "I hope you don't mind my saying that. I mean, I know that relationships between, well ... I just couldn't help noticing, that's all."
Sharon giggled and looked at Bill as calmly as she could. She knew now for certain that her plan was working, and her hair fringed pussy had already begun to throb eagerly in expectation of his stiff male organ pounding rhythmically through her cunt. Just a little longer, she thought; just a little longer and he'll lose control.
"No, I don't mind, Bill," she said easily. "In fact, that's a very nice compliment. Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Bill said. He glanced secretly at the cleft of Sharon's pussy, and this time the shudder that passed through his body was even more obvious. "Uh, is that cramp still there?" he blurted suddenly. "I mean, is it higher up? I'm doing my best to get it out."
"It's a little higher," Sharon said.
"Well, I'm kind of having trouble reaching it," Bill said. He raised his eyes and glanced at Sharon almost pleadingly, looking for all the world like a scared little boy. "Do you mind, uh, well, would you mind taking your shorts off? It's kind of hard to reach under the hem, if you know what I mean. If you don't want to, of course, I mean, I didn't intend to be forward, I know ... "
"Certainly, Bill," Sharon interrupted. She smiled easily and stood up. She no longer felt the least bit nervous or afraid; Bill's consternation was enough for both of them. Still smiling, she unbuckled her khaki shorts and let them fall to her ankles. Then, naked from the waist down except for her panties, she again sat on the edge of the bed and splayed her long tapering legs as far apart as they would go.
"Is this good enough, Bill?" Sharon asked casually.
For several seconds Bill didn't say anything. His eyes widened to the size of golf balls, and as he stared hypnotically at the hair fringed fissure of her vagina he unconsciously licked his lips. He could, Sharon knew, see everything. The fabric of her panties was sheer and gossamer thin, revealing every luscious inch of her mouth watering pussy to his lustful gaze: the dark, fleecy curls of her pubic triangle, the pouting, swollen lips of her vagina and the dark red chink that lay within. He could see everything, and kneeling as he was between her spread thighs it was right in front of him; the opening of her cunt was less than three inches from his eyes.
"Bill?" Sharon asked cryptically. "Are you sure there isn't something wrong?"
"What?" Bill said. He started and looked up at Sharon as if he had forgotten who she was. "Oh, no no no. Nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong at all."
Recovering himself, Bill again raised his hand and massaged the flesh of Sharon's inner thigh. But it was now completely hopeless. He could no longer restrain himself from staring at her nearly completely revealed pussy, and his entire face was red with arousal. After a moment he stopped rubbing her leg completely.
"Bill?" Sharon repeated. "Are you sure there isn't something wrong?"
Bill said nothing in response. Instead he simply remained on his knees between her nakedly splayed legs, gazing transfixedly at the lush mound of her damp vagina. Then, suddenly, his hands shot out. This time his fingers did not knead Sharon's thigh; instead they tightly gripped the hem of her panties. Before Sharon could stop him (presuming that she wanted to, which she did not) he had pulled them roughly away from her body, scattering the shreds on the ground. Then he lowered his head and enveloped her cuntal slit with his mouth, sucking at the pouting lips of her moist pussy like an animal who hasn't been fed for days.