Camp Counselors Ch. 03: Wendy

One in particular was Poppy, an eighteen year old Senior. She had chosen this of all days to dress for the gym, not the woods. She had on skin-tight bike shorts and one of those athletic tops we are all supposed to pretend isn't just a bra. Her outfit distinctly highlighted a figure, which while it had not fleshed out yet like Wendy's had, was well on its way.

Most of our campers make their creations by hand-molding them, or constructing them out of slabs of hand cut clay. We do have a few potter's wheels that the more ambitious can use. Poppy took that morning to get on one of the wheels. She wasn't that good, and asked for my help. I had to go over and stand above her, looking straight down into the open top of that sports bra. After five minutes of struggle with her, the clay flopping all over the wheel unevenly, I reflected frustratedly that it was a good thing the girl was rich as Croesus and had a body built for sex, because she definitely did not have a brain built for rocket science.

As my frustration mounted, Wendy appeared to help, or so I thought. It seemed that she was there to make my frustration different... and more intense.

"Here, let me help," she said amiably to Poppy and bent down behind her. She reached around the Senior and put her hands around the spinning clay, on top of Poppy's. "You have to be softer than that," she first admonished, keeping both their hands totally loose around the putative 'vase'. "And you need more moisture," she added, releasing Poppy with one hand and grabbing a soaking wet cloth form the bucket. She held it over the rotating lump and squeezed out a torrent of water over the clay and both their hands. She dropped the rag and took hold again. "See? Get it good and soaked. It is a lot better and easier to control when it is good and slippery wet."

Poppy was just so damned pleased that clay was not yet again flying off the wheel that she seemed oblivious to the fact that Wendy's amazing rack was wrapped around the back of her neck, and the clay was rapidly elongating into a phallic column.

I was not so blissfully oblivious. And of course, Wendy knew exactly what she was doing, as she looked up at me briefly and winked with a broad grin before beginning to run her and Poppy's sodden hands up and down the column of clay.

I watched at long as I could handle without visually shaking, my mind filled with an extremely vivid image of my dick being in their hands instead of that clay. At last, I croaked out, my voice nearly cracking, "Thanks Wendy. You got this, I'll go help some of the others."

I grabbed my water bottle, took several enormous, desperately needed gulps and went to work with a group of the plainer-looking girls who were making simple boxes. I sat down at the table with them, which had the multiple virtues of keeping me facing away from Poppy and Wendy, and of hiding my raging erection far better than my untucked t-shirt had managed.

The rod of clay was eventually turned into the intended flower vase, and the worms all filed out at the end of the period. Wendy went to the sink to wash her hands, shoving her ass in my direction as she did so, of course. When she stood up and turned back toward me, drying her hands, I was glaring at her, with my hands indignantly on my hips.

"What?" Wendy asked innocently.

"You know damned well..." I began.

"Oh!" Wendy chuckled. "You're welcome," she added a little throatily.

I opened my mouth to retort, but I said nothing, realizing that I really should be thanking her for that show. Still... "Please leave me alone for the rest of today," I pleaded. "I don't want to have to try to hide an enormous erection while we lifeguard at Swim Time."

"Enormous?" Wendy asked archly. She looked swiftly over her shoulder as she stepped suddenly toward me. She reached out in a flash and grasped the front of my shorts. Her hand briefly but comprehensively explored the outline of my rock hard cock before releasing me. "Indeed! Very nice," she added, turning to start cleaning up in a very business-like manner. "All right. I'll leave you alone today."

Then she looked up at me. "But tomorrow, I'm going to have you revved up like a drag racer by the time the last worm gets out of here."

Wednesday. Wendy and I would have ninety minutes of alone time that afternoon. That morning, I dressed in my extra-baggy pair shorts. I usually wear my shirts pretty tight myself, but I chose that loosest, longest t-shirt I had that day. Honestly, it looked a little weird it was so big, with the Camp Dickinger logo resting lower on my chest that I was used to. Oh, and I felt underwear was a needless accessory that day. You don't have a lot of privacy in these camp cabins, so it took some doing to go commando without drawing any snide remarks from Van or our worms, but I managed.

I needn't have bothered with all the boner camouflage. Wendy was back to her usual form-fitting clothes, not the sausage casings she had worn the day before. Further, she was not really flirting with me at all, bending over no more than usual and mostly just happily helping the campers with their projects.

In the morning, I was confused. She had promised, no, warned me that she was going to have me blue-balled by the end of the day, and here was nothing going on. What was her plan?

It kept up in the after lunch periods, and I started to get paranoid. Was Wendy going to blue ball me entirely? I found myself staring at her almost fixedly as the afternoon went on. And she caught my eyes on her several times. Her reaction was never positive, nor was it ever quelling. She just subtly but clearly noted my gaze and went on with her pleasant demeanor unchanged.

Then, as we shooed the penultimate box of worms out for the day, and before the last batch could arrive, I stepped over to her and blurted out, "Look, Wendy..."

She cut me off with a whopper of a kiss, accompanied by her grabbing both my buns and squeezing quite firmly. My shock only kept me from probing her mouth with my tongue for a second or two before I pressed both our lips wide and I let myself taste her. She pressed herself against me and tongued me back almost urgently. My hands took longer to get over the shock of the sudden turn of things, but I finally swept them around her and slid them down toward her rounded, generous ass.

But then Wendy slipped free and stood back, a grin on her face. I was left there, empty-handed, with a beached whale expression on my face and my day-long incipient erection dialed suddenly to cordite steel. "You... are..." I sputtered.

She laughed and spun around in delight. "Were you starting to worry?" Wendy cooed from well out of my reach. "Good! A little uncertainty adds spice. But time for questions is over. We just have to get through this last set of guys, and then I'm going to have my way with you!"

I just grinned exasperatedly, and tugged at my shorts, hoping against hope to make my erection at least a little less visible than it seemed, even under my loose shorts and long tee. Wendy watched my struggle with amused hunger, then bounced over (literally bounced) to the sink to wash her hands.

Moments later, the last group of worms showed up. They were all Seniors, mostly guys, and a few were from my cabin. That was good. I'd have to concentrate to keep them in line at the end of the day, the effort of which would keep my own reactions under control. Wendy had other ideas, however, and turned up her flirting and flouncing to eleven. That was hard enough on me, so to speak, but her charms were more of a shotgun than a sniper rifle, and the young dudes were getting riled too.

They knew better than to get frisky or anything, of course, but they just got rambunctious instead. The hut was a total mess at four-thirty when Wendy and I shooed the worms off to change for Swim Time. Wendy turned after seeing the back of the last of them and grinned. I just sighed and grabbed a mop.

Wendy just gaped at me, apparently outraged that I hadn't made an immediate grab for her. "You know how hard this will be to clean if we wait for the morning," I grumbled.

She continued to stare at me as I started in on the floor, then sighed. "Fuck you for being right," she grumped.

"Please?" I said in a childlike voice.

She laughed again, grabbed a scraper and towels, and got to work on the worst of the clay-coated areas around the wheels.

We had to use up twenty-five precious minutes of our window of opportunity cleaning up the extraordinary mess. Twenty-five minutes that I could have spent getting Wendy out of her clothes and molesting her body. Suffice to say, several young men had made my shit list.

But we both were motivated to work quickly and I finished my stuff just before Wendy did hers. She was bending over a table, scrubbing up the containers built into the center.

I smiled. I snuck up behind her and surprised her by running my hands up the round, generous curves of her ass. She jumped but didn't turn immediately, which suited me just fine. My hands reached the top of her ass and I sent them up her back, following them as they went. As they traced over the texture of her bra strap I slid them down her sides and under her to finally grasp those incredibly curvaceous tits. Simultaneously, I pressed my groin against her ass, so that she could feel my cock hardening swiftly once again against her.

Wendy just kept scrubbing, which made her breasts jiggle in my hands and her ass rub against my dick. I leaned forward on top of her and nuzzled the back of her neck. Wendy just growled and tossed her rag aside, making no move to get out from under me.

"We have already wasted so much time," she groaned.

"Unfortunately," I replied softly, letting my fingers squeeze her tits harder.

We stayed like that for a spell, my hands filling themselves with her still-clad mounds and her ass rubbing itself against my groin.

Then Wendy straightened up and turned around to kiss me again, just as hungrily as before, but this time we had the time to do it right. Her tongue lashed out to caress my teeth, its tip even bending up to trace the back of them. I, in turn, could restrain myself no longer, and tugged up on her t-shirt, pulling it up over her fantastic boobs. I grabbed them again, but was still unsatisfied with the necessarily substantial bra that still covered her flesh. I didn't bother tugging her shirt completely off, but just reached behind her and worked at the clasps. As I said, the bra need to be substantial to support her superstructure and it had three hooks in back. The first two came loose like a piece of cake, but the third was a right pain in the ass until I could loosen it.

Wendy sighed through our locked lips as the strap came loose and I slid my hands around between us, under the now loose cups, and clasped the softness of her bare flesh. Her boobs were amazingly firm for their size, and while they overflowed my hands, they didn't spill over. She grunted into my mouth as my fingertips sought her nipples and gently squeezed them.

That was it, I had to see these beauties. Wendy had her hands clasped behind my head and I had to actually struggle to break free. When I did, I grinned hungrily at her and looked down. I lifted the beige fabric of her brassiere and beheld the objects of my obsession for the last week and a half. And just stared, practically dumbstruck.

"Will they do?" Wendy asked drily as I just stared.

"I didn't think it possible they could except my expectations," I breathed softly. Their milky white expanse was unblemished, and their substantial curves were buoyant enough to leave only the slightest crease at their bottoms. Her nipples were round, erect, and dark, but petite, matching the tight, almost tiny circles of her aureoles.

Wendy laughed at my words and broke the spell. I clapped my hands again on her softness and squeezed once more, watching fascinatedly as my fingers sank into her flesh deeply.

Wendy leaned forward and stole a quick kiss, then said, "Listen, we have lost so much time already. Let's save the foreplay for Friday. Right now, I just want to get laid."

More welcome words were never heard. Equally welcome was how she grabbed the front of my shorts and tugged them out and down. My underwear-less cock bounced up in greeting as she pulled my shorts down. Wendy stroked it gently with a finger and grinned, "No underwear. You were really eager to get going today!" She stroked my cock again, with more firmness this time. "I like a motivated man. Yes, I think this will fit quite nicely..."

That was enough to motivate me to pay (marginally less) attention to her breasts. I reached out and tugged down on her tight-fitting shorts and they reluctantly pulled free of her curvy hips. Another tug and they dropped to her ankles, leaving me to appreciate the lovely v-shaped chevron of her panties. They were a conservative beige, like her bra, and covered a hell of a lot more than a thong would have, but they were still like a beautiful arrow pointing to paradise.

They had to go. And so they did.

Wendy hopped up to perch on the edge of a work table and pulled me toward her. Her smooth thighs rubbed against my own hips and the length of my cock pressed against her crotch. I grabbed her head and kissed her deeply. Her nipples rubbed against my chest and she reached down between us to grasp my cock fully. She firmly, almost roughly, maneuvered my tip against her labia and rubbed it up and down against her clean-shaven, swollen, and moist outer swells.

I just softly moaned and pressed myself into her. Wendy let out a small cry in response as my cock sank slowly, marvelously into the depths of her vag. She was indeed so damp I realized that she had been dying to get to this all day, just as I had. So slippery was she that even though tight as a drum, I drove into her almost without effort. I had to stop myself before I was fully in. I paused, withdrew just enough to draw a sigh from Wendy, then buried myself to the hilt in her.

I gasped happily as I kept myself fully inserted, reveling as her inner muscles writhed and massaged the cock that they encased. Wendy grabbed my ass and her almost desperate grip did its part to keep me buried inside her. She kissed me again, fiercely, ending with a light bite of my lower lip. She pressed her forehead against mine, loosened the grip of her hands, looked me in the eye, and growled, "Get. On. With. It!"

My lower lip tugging against the gentle grip of her teeth, I slowly pulled almost half way out of her, then ran myself back in again, marginally faster. I repeated this, at various depths, but with the same agonizing slowness over and over again, torturing both of us with my restraint.

Again and again, I slowly plumbed her slipperily resistant depths. Wendy released my lip so she could slowly pant in response. I needed to brace myself against the table, so I was only able to spare one hand to rise and once more grasp a magnificent tit. I squeezed it between my third, fourth, and fifth fingers and the heel of my palm, while my index finger and thumb rolled an eagerly hard nipple between them.

The rhythm and depth of my thrusts was perfect. It had us both trembling from the stimulation, and but was not enough to drive either of us up the final slope to climax. I smugly told myself that I could keep this up for as wondrously long as I wanted, with my cock sending gentle, eloquent telegrams of joy to my brain with each passage into Wendy's depths.

Her tits ended up being the problem, though. They were just too good. I could not resist tugging at and mauling the one in my hand, and Wendy clearly loved the attention. In response, she wrapped one of her legs up and around me, adjusting my angle of entry slightly but with significant results.

Both of us reacted to the new, more stimulating passage of my thrusts. Wendy, began to moan more forcefully, but still quietly. My hips could no longer be restrained and my pace quickened. The pleasure messages to my brain became more and more urgent and my thrusts became harder and faster. I tried to restrain myself, but that effort only heightened the sensations without slowing me at all.

Wendy arched her torso backwards, only keeping from falling onto the table by her grasp on my gyrating backside. Her hands, of course, moved with my thrusts, and her breast that was not trapped in my grasp began to flop magically just out of phase with my own efforts to invade her.

Suddenly, Wendy shrieked, biting down urgently to cut off any more high-volume exclamations as I felt her body shudder beneath me. The feel of ripping that orgasm from her depths without warning was immensely satisfying, and a real turn on. As turned on as I already was, I realized urgently that I was also going to come myself, in just moments.

"Out or in?" I gasped, desperately trying to hold on for her answer against the sudden wave of sensory overload that was washing against me.

"Out for today," Wendy gasped, still shuddering. "I want to see it!"

She released my ass with one hand, then the other, slapping them back onto the table to support herself and released me from the hold of her leg as I pulled backward and my cock popped free, not a moment too soon. The second I was out of her, my valiant defense failed and my balls boiled as they shot a huge stream of jizz out over Wendy's belly. The white stuff dropped in a wide stream across her belly, still heaving with her gasps for air.

I was hazily proud for just a moment that I had produced such a prodigious load when my cock spasmed again and shot a second blast that landed on her torso, just short of the distance achieved by the first. Wendy reached out to grab my cock and began to jack it hard, lying back on the table, unable to support herself any longer. Her hand felt great, great enough to draw a few smaller, weaker, but still amazing feeling spurts from my shaft.

We both looked down at her absolutely cum-sodden belly and simultaneously began to laugh, probably louder than we should have. Her hand did not leave my cock, but at least she had pity on me and stopped jacking it before I had a stroke from over-stimulation.

"Holy. Cow," I gasped. "You are so damned good at this!"

"And you are just..." Wendy said, pausing for a tiny aftershock, "as good as advertised!"

"Just you wait for Friday," I said in a mock warning tone. "I have so many more ways I want to molest your body."

"Oh yeah," said Wendy idly. She reached down and wiped a finger-load of jizz from her belly and sucked on it. "If those worms in last period start to make a mess again Friday, we will have to sit on them!"

"You slap them around. I'll sit on them," I chuckled. "They most certainly do not deserve to have you sitting on them!"

Somehow I disentangled myself from Wendy and went to grab her a fresh cleaning towel. She wiped the rest of my spume off her belly and wadded up the towel, burying it deep in the dirty pile where no one would notice. We dressed quickly, and kissed a final, fierce kiss before dressing and slipping away separately to our respective cabins. The homestretch of my time at Camp Dickinger was going to me epic.

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Thanks for continuing with this story, and to those of you who have read my other, previous works. Please rate this entry, and I especially would like your comments! The last story from camp should be here before you know it.