Camp Initiation

"I've been interested since she was 15, but it's not like the old days. I have to be very careful, you know."

"But she's 18, now. And she's been waiting all these years. She's just very unsure of herself."

John looked at Ms. Corbett, seeing the beautiful girl Tom had know.

"You're leaving day after tomorrow," John said. "That only leaves tomorrow night."

"Sing for her. She loves hearing you sing. I know she'll be ready."

John smiled and rolled his hips up and down between her legs, feeling the wetness, feeling himself grow with each press forward.

"Okay. I'll sing her to bed!" he said, a smile sweeping his face. "But right now, I'd like to have some more practice!"

Chapter 7

I slept in. We were leaving tomorrow, and I didn't want to get out of bed. It was almost lunch time. When I didn't hear Grandma, I got worried. I knocked on her door, afraid for a second that something might have happened.

"I'm awake. Come on in," Grandma said.

I swung the door open and found her lounging in bed.

"You okay?"

"Oh yes! I feel so young this morning!"

"But you never sleep in this late."

"I did when I was your age!"

We both laughed. I got dressed while Grandma made pancakes for lunch.

"I hear there's going to be a campfire tonight."

"Yeah. I'm not sure I want to go," I said.

"Nonsense! Roasted marshmellows, singing... I heard that John was going to bring his guitar and sing."

I looked up at Grandma and couldn't hide the sadness that pinched at my heart.

"Look, girl, if you want that man, you better start acting like it!"

I was struck dumb. I had never heard Grandma talk like that.

"Stop mopping and get yourself prettied up! Tonight, you're going hunting!"

I couldn't help smiling as Grandma got up and pulled me over to the mirror.

"There's not a man from here to Maine that wouldn't want to hold you in his arms, kiss your lips, and tickle your fancy!"

I laughed and blushed as Grandma started going through my clothes and my makeup.

We spent the better part of two hours getting me beautiful. When we were done, I actually knew I WAS beautiful. I looked at myself in the mirror: open blouse over a short halter top, short-shorts, and a pair of stylish sandals. All told, there was lots of skin, not so much clothing.

"Now, for your own good, I want you to try this."

Grandma went to her room, then came back with a small bottle. She tipped the heart-shaped container and put a dab of liquid on my finger.

"Smell..."

I held it to my nose. It was a rich scent, not fruity or sweet, but complicated and sophisticated. It made me think of intrigue, and dark nights, and hands on my body...

"Now, this is a very expensive perfume," Grandma said. "I have never known it to fail me."

She put a dab on my wrist.

"Rub your wrists together."

I was in her spell, and did what she asked. I held my wrists to my nose and drifted off again into a land of handsome men, hot lips, and cool hands.

"You want to put a dab at every port of call," she said, putting a dab just behind my ear, then at the back of my neck. Her fingers sent a shiver down my spine. She put another dab on her finger and bent to touch touch the inside of each leg, just above the knee.

"I leave it to you, but there are three more critical points." She looked from one breast to the other, then let her eyesbrows rise as her line of sight went to my crotch. "You know what I'm talking about."

I had turned bright red and smiled. My grandma was telling me to put a dab of perfume at my crotch!

"But who would smell that?" I laughed.

"Don't play coy with me, young lady!" She gave me a tap on the head. "Just above the top," she said, "about this far above the hood." She indicated the distance by putting her hand up to her face, her thumb on her lips, her forefinger at her nose."

I let out a nervous laugh.

"This is no time to be nervous and shy! It's way past time! Why in my day..."

I waited, but she just turned and left me to put on the finishing touches. Was I really going to go for broke tonight? Grandma was certainly giving me the green light, but was John going to notice? Was he going to find all the places I had marked with the dreamy scent? A shiver of excitement and fear swept through me as I imagined John at my neck, behind my ears, at my knees...

Chapter 8

That night, John came down to the fire pit with his guitar.

"Yay!" I cheered and clapped when I saw him. He noticed, smiled at me, and came over.

"You look, different," he said.

I leaned over to his ear and whispered, "I love hearing you sing."

I lingered as his nose turned and touched my neck. I could tell the perfume was having an effect on him as he breathed deeply, slowly letting his nose cross my neck and linger under my ear.

"You are so... beautiful, tonight," he whispered, then moved back as more people arrived. We made room for him to sit in the middle.

As it got darker, and I watched the fire light up John's face. He sang the same songs he'd sung in previous years. I joined in, and even had a duet with John where he pulled me beside him, put his arm around me, and gave me a squeeze. I made sure John knew how much I loved his singing by asking him to sing song after song after song. By 10pm, Grandma decided it was time for bed.

"I'll help you," I offerred.

"No, no... You're having too much fun! You stay down here and come home when you're done."

Grandma walked off into the dark and I heard her climb the stairs as John started singing another song. Soon, others called it quits, thanked John, and left for their cabins. By 10:30pm it was just John and me.

"Please, let's sing some more," I said.

John looked at me in the firelight. I didn't look away and we just looked at each other. Then he leaned over and kissed me. My heart jumped and my head went dizzy. I felt like I did when I was 15.

"You've grown into a beautiful woman," John said.

When I didn't say anything, he leaned over and kissed me again, this time letting his lips move a little more. They felt soft, and I kissed him back. When he pulled away, he asked me, "I remember our first kiss."

My heart pounded in my ears. I just nodded, remembering the time we had hiked over the ridge. John leaned forward again, this time letting his mouth open. He seemed to be waiting for me, so I opened my mouth, too. My lips softened as his lips pressed into mine, then moistened as his tongue passed my lips.

I was melting. I couldn't move and just wanted to puddle on the ground. His hand settled gently on my bare leg, just above my knee. I opened my mouth, more to breath than to kiss, and he lightly touched his tongue to my tongue. My whole body swelled and my breathing quickened. His fingertips slid up the inside of my thigh sending jolts of electricity through my body. I couldn't breath, and lifted my head back, and gasped.

His fingers moved further up my leg and I began to shake. I wanted him to touch me more, but I was scared. My knees were shaking and I twitched when his fingers went under the edge of my shorts. He gave my thigh a squeeze, kissed my neck, then dragged his lips to my ear and whispered, "Have you ever made love?"

As he said the word "love," He put his hand at my crotch and pressed, squeezing until the pressure reached my pleasure button. "Oh my god!" I exhaled, as his fingers gently pinched and massaged. My legs slipped wider with each pulse of pleasure. Then he leaned back, letting his hand fall away, his fingertips sliding back down my leg to my knee.

I looked into his face, that face that I had imagined so often during the years. That face that I imagined when I lay in bed, reading romantic novels, and pleasuring myself. I so wanted to bury myself in his arms. I wanted to... but I was afraid. I looked down and moved my head slowly back and forth, embarrassed to have him know that I had never been with a man.

"Would you like to?"

I was shaking now. I took a deep breath to calm my heart and clear my head. I had dreamed of this, of making love with John. I had wanted to last summer, but was too afraid, and my friend, Mary had been so much more sophisticated and mature. This year it was MY year! My 18th birthday! And it was now or never. I took another deep breath, looked up into his eyes, and nodded once, "Yes."

John stood up, holding his guitar in one hand, and offered me his other hand.

"Remember?" he said, "The first time we met and you wouldn't take my hand?"

"Yes," I said, putting my hand in his and standing. I was a little wobbly, but John just waited patiently. When I started walking, he gave my hand a squeeze. I felt my reaction, the slippery wetness. I was elated, I had never felt happier, and another wave of anticipation crashed at my crotch.

We walked across the lawn and up the hill to John's cabin. I was swirling with such feelings. I was going to make love, for the first time! I was going to make love with John! I was going to make love! My head grew dizzy and I stopped walking.

"Just a minute," I said.

John stopped and pulled me into his arms. I sank my head against his chest, feeling the warmth, hearing his own heart beating fast.

"Are you scared, too?" I asked, looking up.

"Not scared, " he said, "excited. I've been waiting a long time." He looked down at me, put his fingers under my chin, tilted my head and kissed me softly on the lips, then said, "I've wanted to make love to you since the first time I met you..."

We hugged for a long time, just standing there. I pressed my face into his chest, feeling his nipple, hard like mine. John moved his arm and his guitar bumped into my back.

"Let's go play inside," he said, his big smile reflecting in moonlight.

I smiled, looked down, scared again.

"You ready?" he asked, his hand light on my arm. I thought about saying no, that I wasn't ready, that I was too scared. But I had run away so many times before. I pulled my courage together and quickly nodded. There was no turning back, not for me.

He led me towards his cabin. As we climbed the stairs, I counted them, a final countdown. At the top, he opened the door and walked in. My legs got very wobbly and I wasn't able to move. I was shaking. John saw me standing in the doorway. He came back and stood just inside.

"It's okay to be nervous." He waited a little, then said, "I'll be gentle... and patient." When I still didn't move, he said, "You decide when you're ready." I stared back at him, unable to say anything. He held out his hand. I reached for it, squeezed my fingers around his, and stepped inside. He closed the door behind us.

"Come here."

John led me to his couch. I looked over into his bedroom. I know I blushed. John saw me and smiled.

"Let's just sit here for a while," he said, sitting on the couch. "Let's take it slow."

I sat down beside him, looked into those beautiful eyes. John leaned over and kissed me, just a whisper of a kiss, lightly touching my lips. He pulled back. We looked into each other's eyes. John kissed me again. I didn't need any more prompting and let his lips melt into mine. They were wet and slippery. I opened my mouth and let his tongue touch mine. Our lips slid over one another. I started to get the feeling again, that pounding heart, shallow breath, "press-into-me" feeling.

Our tongues were dancing. He opened his mouth wider and pulled back his tongue, leading my tongue into his mouth. As I played with his tongue, his hands touched my sides and squeezed my waist. John pulled back and took off his shirt.

"Here," he said. "Touch me while we kiss."

He put my hand on his chest. I felt the hairs and his naked skin.

"Swirl your fingertips around my nipple," he whispered, and he pressed his lips into mine.

I used my finger to draw a circle around his nipple. It grew upright and stiff. As I touched the tip, John pulled me tighter. I scratched my fingernail over his nipple and he started to rock his hips, in time with my fingers.

"Yes," he said, "yes. Now pinch, just the very tip. Yes! Pinch harder."

I pinched him, and imagined he was pinching my nipples.

"Harder. Don't you like it harder?"

John was making little moans each time I pinched. My breasts were growing full, wanting to be touched. I pressed my breasts into John's chest. John took my hand and held it to my breast. "Show me," he said, " how do you like to be touched." I took his hand and tried to slip it under my top.

"Here," I said, and reached down, pulling my shirt over my head.

"Pinch my nipple," John whispered, moving his lips to my neck, where he sucked and licked. I pinched his nipple. "Do it like you want me to do," he said. He reached behind my back and unsnapped my bra, releasing my swollen breasts. "Show me how you like it," he said, sliding the bra forward and down my arms. He moved a hand up my side, grasped one of my breasts and gave a squeeze.

"Yes!" I blurted out.

His hand felt so good. I leaned forward, putting my lips to his ear, and let him hear my breathing, the sounds I made as the pleasure rolled through my body.

He took my nipple between two fingers and rolled it. A jolt of desire flowed down and tugged deep inside my vagina, a contraction, and the moisture seeped out of me. He rolled again and I wanted him to touch me, press into my crotch. I moved my legs apart, pressing one knee into his, the other knee swinging free, inviting, asking him to press on my swollen vulva. He put his hand on my knee. I wanted him to press into my crotch, so I rocked my hips forward as my tongue dove deep into his mouth.

John answered my urgent call and gently leaned me down onto my back as he pressed his knee between my legs. I lay down and he slid his hand up my thigh to my shorts.

"Spread wider," he said, holding one knee up against the couch as he pressed the other knee out. He used his knuckles to give me another nipple roll. As if on their own, my hips responded, opening wider. John slipped his fingers under my shorts, then under my underwear.

I gasped as his finger pushed against my opening. How different it felt compared to my own fingers. He felt drier, bigger, rougher. He pressed and his fingers slid into me. "Oh... John..." I exhaled, as I closed my eyes and experienced his every bump, his every callous against my tender skin. He slid his fingers down then up. My lower abdomen cramped when he passed over my clit, first one finger, then another, and another. "Yessss..." I hissed.

I had masturbated many times, imagining John's fingers, his tongue, his manhood inside me. But now, now that he was actually touching me, I had never imagined it would feel this good. He passed his fingers back and forth over my clit and I began to jerk and twitch. He was rougher than I was with myself, but somehow that was even more exciting. He flopped his finger back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I was seized with an exploding orgasm that forced all the air from my lungs. I disappeared into the pleasure of it, warm fluid gushing with each spasm from my vagina. I cramped, released, cramped, released, and cramped again, each time a wave of sheer joy crashed through my body. When John pulled out his finger, I jerked. He put his hand atop my crotch and pressed lightly, just holding his hand there, keeping me warm. With only his gentle squeezing, My vagina twinged with contractions as I let myself float in time.

"We better get you out of those wet clothes," I heard John say as I floated back. I felt the cool damp of my shorts against my thighs. I realized I had peed. "Oh! I'm sorry..." I started to fumble. I was mortified.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay. It just means you came really hard. And you trust me, by letting yourself go like that. I'm glad you felt safe enough."

John smiled and I relaxed. He gave me a kiss, then put my legs together. He was going to take off my clothes and he was right, I did feel safe. And I was happy. My body was so relaxed I felt like my bones were made of rubber. He could do whatever he wanted. I watched as he gently unbuttoned my shorts and tugged them over my hips.

"Lift your butt," he said, and I did. The wet shorts came off, as did everything else. When John finished, I was naked on the couch, looking up at his chest, wanting to run my fingers through the hairs around his nipples, wanting to take off his pants, to see his whole body. My knees swung open and closed, letting the cool air on my crotch as I stretched the skin around my opening. I wasn't afraid any more. I was a butterfly, spreading my wings, wafting my scent on the wind, inviting, waiting for my mate.

"I'm ready," I said, grabbing John's hands, pulling him down on top of me, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"Yes, you are," John said, as his fingers found the slippery fluid that I was oozing. John pulled back and I blushed with wanting as he stared at my crotch. In his eyes I saw a new look growing, one I knew without ever having seen it. I saw John's eyes respond to me, looking at me, looking at my sex. It made me even more ready. John watched as my lips swelled, my breasts swelled, my labia swelled. I was ready. I wanted him on top of me, inside me, our bodies moving together.

John got down on his knees. He put one hand on each of my legs, then slid his fingers up my legs. I closed my eyes, my neck and back arching, overwhelmed with anticipation. His fingers crawled up my thighs and I pressed my head into the couch, wanting, needing him inside me.

I gasped when he slid over my entrance. He curled his fingers to press and pull my labia lips open. His cheek brushed my leg, scratchy and rough, my skin sensitive, unable to distinguish pleasure from pain. He lowered his face into my crotch, first lightly, then pressing full into me. I imagined his whole head slipping inside me. A wave of fluid smooths and lubricates his prickly beard.

John pulled back, his face easing away from my crotch. My heart beat hard and pulsed in my labia. Something else pressed into me, like a finger, but softer, smoother. Another wave rolled through my body as I realized it was his tongue. He probed and searched, looking for, then finding my clitoris. I was helpless as my body shook with a precipitous orgasm, clamping John's head as he leaned forward and sucked on my love button. I gushed, this time knowing, this time letting myself go, and the pulses flowed out of me, sucked out of me with an intensity I had never known. I floated in the safety of utter freedom and complete trust.

As I slowly returned, I put my hand on John's head, my fingers wrapping into his hair. Without saying a word, he had known when to stop. He turned his head and his warm breath tickled my thigh. We lay there for several minutes. I was floating, and felt myself beginning to come down. John turned his face back and forth between my legs, the scratchy roughness of him made me smile as I let myself enjoy a man between my legs.

John turned his head down, and his tongue began another dance. I shook my head, unable to imagine another climax, exhausted already from where John had taken me. I pulled gently on his hair, trying to lift his head, but he just lifted himself enough to barely touch the lips of my slit, reaching down and slowly licking up. He was so gentle and careful that I eased my grip and let him continue. He repeated his tongue's slide up to, but not touching, my clit over and over. I let my breathing match his pace, breathing out slowly as he climbed, then inhaling quickly as he stopped just short of hood.

My second climax came slower, building imperceptibly with each breath, climbing a ladder one rung at a time, until my breathing was joined by the rock of my pelvis, then the tightening of my abdomen, the arching of my back, until with each breath my body disappeared into a single feeling, a mounting pressure. This time, my climax leaked out, as if a balloon had been pricked, and the air was slowly seeping away. My body wrenched into a single mass, cramped in ecstasy as John wrung the pleasure out of me like a wet rag. I kept tumbling down, inside myself, into the depths of pleasure, as John kept his light rhythm, never actually touching my clit. Finally, after I don't know how long, I gasped for breath, breaking the spell, as I realized I had stopped breathing.