Getting Down at Brown Ch. 04

We talked about getting an apartment here in Providence, we talked about living with my parents in Stowe, we even talked about staying on Cliff Island. If we got a place in Providence, we'd be spending every penny we earned during the summer on our living expenses; nothing would be saved. We'd save on living expenses staying with at one of our parents' houses, and could save whatever we earned from summer jobs, but who knew what jobs we could get.

Well, Hell, both of our fathers were attorneys, fairly well connected ones. We finally decided that I'd call my dad first, and see if he could get us both summer jobs, something beyond minimum wage. If my dad couldn't do that, then we'd try Sheila's father; we didn't want to hit both families at the same time, maybe have both of them succeed, and them have to tell one or the other, 'thanks, but no thanks.'

It turned out to be a pretty good decision to call my father first: dad was both a good friend of, and the attorney for, the owner of the local campground. Since I already had both my lifeguard and WSI -- Water Safety Instructor -- certifications, from working at the community pool the last two summers, Mr McFadden was eager to hire me, and Sheila, a rising senior at an Ivy League college, could easily be hired on as a staff supervisor.

The timing even worked out. Brown was done for the semester on Friday, May 19th, and Sheila and I were both done with our exams two days prior to that. The campground wouldn't open until the following Friday, the 26th, the start of Memorial Day weekend. Sheila and I had to report for orientation -- she referred to it as disorientation! -- on the 20th, to get ready for the influx of campers.

Even growing up in liberal Vermont, I was somewhat surprised that Sheila and I were given the same bedroom in the counselors' cabin. Yeah, Mr McFadden knew we were a couple, but we weren't married. Inside was one double bed, not the two twins I had figured; how lucky was that?

Well, it didn't take very long before we counselors were jokingly calling the place Camp Crystal Lake, after the summer camp in the Friday the 13th slasher series. We checked the calendar, and there wouldn't be a Friday the 13th during this summer, much to our disappointment, but the cabins were pretty reminiscent of the settings for the movie . . . except that they didn't have WiFi in the old movie series! The guys kept teasing the girls that the girls all went braless in the old movies, which got a lot of giggles from most of the girls, but all I got from Sheila was a "Really?" deadpan look. She'd gone braless a few times last winter for me, but always when she was wearing a heavy sweater or sweatshirt, so that no one else could tell.

Our first night at the camp, well it was wonderful! We had made love in my bedroom at home, but Sheila was always careful to keep the noise down, since my bedroom was adjacent to my parents' room. Yeah, they knew, intellectually, that we were (probably) having sex, but still . . . .

Anyway, in a counselors' cabin full of teenagers and twenty-somethings, we were a little less quiet. We weren't (usually) screamers, but the floor in our room wasn't quite flat, and if we got to rocking hard, the legs would thump on the floor. Surprisingly, this amused Sheila more than it did me, and she actually pushed to get the bed shaking. Usually we didn't get that vigorous until close to the end, but Sheila teased me that if the others heard the bed thumping, I'd better make sure it went on thumping for at least ten minutes, or everybody else would think I was a dud.

I made my ten minutes, maybe even eleven, and that was more than enough to get my girlfriend making plenty of noise on her own. I guess that I shouldn't have felt smug about this, but I knew I'd be able to hold my head high in the morning at chow. Best part? Sheila gave me her own reward, as she wanted to make love again in the morning, though we were slow and pretty quiet about that.

We didn't see too much of each other during the day, other than at lunch. Sheila and her troops were busy scrubbing down what passed for the kitchen -- and it really could have come out of the movie Camp Crystal Lake, to look at it -- while we lifeguards had both repairing, cleaning up and painting the lifeguard stands, the dock and the canoes. In the afternoon, we had PT -- physical training -- with distance swimming and rescue retraining. As the sole WSI, I had the distinct pleasure of running that, and the fact that I hadn't kept up enough with swimming was taking a real toll; I was pretty tired at the end of the day, and I knew I'd be sore tomorrow.

That kind of disappointed Sheila come the evening, because the camp, really still in the greening up phase as spring comes late in Vermont, was absolutely gorgeous. It was different here than Cliff Island, where she grew up, mostly hardwood trees rather than evergreens, and the land was rolling at the campground, with the ski resort mountains visible in the distance from the cleared view by the lake. We went for an evening walk after chow, and my girlfriend was definitely in a romantic mood. I teased her that yeah, I was only twenty, so I'd be able to get it up tonight, but that she'd have to do most of the work.

"So, that's how it's going to be, huh?" she teased me, but she had a huge grin on her face.

When we got back to our room, she informed me that, OK, she would do all of the work, as she got on top and settled herself right down onto my cock. This wasn't one of our more frequent ways of making love, but it was always wonderful, and she really did do all of the work, going ever so slowly.

One of the things we both liked during lovemaking was looking into each other's eyes. That kind of limited our choice of positions, but it didn't matter to me. The important part was that we were connecting on more than just a physical level; that part was just sex. It was looking into Sheila's eyes, it was seeing her sweet smile, it was hearing each others' whispered endearments that turned sex into lovemaking, and I was so deeply in love with her, more than I had ever imagined was possible. More, I knew that she was just as much in love with me.

That was the frustrating part! I wanted to marry this woman, and she absolutely refused to talk about the subject. I wanted to ask her to marry me, right then, but I kept getting flashbacks of the Big Bang episode, when Penny got all pissed off when Leonard proposed during sex. Proposing now would just ruin the rest of the evening.

Morning came, and we both awoke before the alarm clock . . . and I was horny. I'm not sure why, because we'd made love twice yesterday, but I was well rested, and not nearly as sore as I thought I would be. Sheila gave me a big smile, and teased me about being so randy and ready to go. I don't know if she was really horny herself, but she did get turned on pretty quickly, and I got on top of her with very few preliminaries. She was already plenty wet, and took me inside of herself in one smooth stroke. I kissed her once, and then she grinned up at me, whispering, "Fuck me hard."

Well, I was more than willing to obey that order, and when I heard that first thump of the bed leg on the uneven floor, I glanced at the clock: 6:02 AM. Maybe I shouldn't have been thinking like this, but not only did I want to please Sheila, I wanted to make sure everybody else knew I'd taken care of business. With just a couple of stops to change position, and after Sheila had gotten off four times, I had my own release. After I came down from that high, I looked at the clock again, and the green LED display read: 6:28. Subtract maybe a minute for me coming down, and we'd been slamming together for 26 minutes. "I think I'm the one who's going to be too sore this evening," she grinned to me after we were done.

Nobody said anything when we came downstairs, but there were plenty of knowing smiles and smirks to greet us. Sheila's crew had the breakfast cooking duties, but I went into the kitchen to help her this morning. Scrambled eggs from these pasteurized egg cartons -- they looked like the old-style coated paper milk cartons -- and bacon and a huge platter of buttermilk biscuits, plus four pots of coffee for all of the counselors.

I was getting quite the reputation. This morning was more repairs, and second coats of paint on the lakeside equipment. I was like the second smallest guy on the lifeguarding crew; other than Larry, the others were six feet at least, and more muscular. I had kept up with the others on the PT yesterday, but it had taken more out of me than it had the rest, and they knew it. But that half hour of making the bed leg thump this morning was all it took to make the other guys think that I was aces in the sack, and that's where guys really compete.

Spring turned into summer, and things were going really good at the camp. Sheila's crew was very well organized, and ran things efficiently, while my lifeguarding guys were keeping people out of trouble and doing well on teaching new people how to swim. I could have taken it easy and just supervised the whole thing, but I always assigned myself tower shifts and other duties, making sure that my guys could see me, right along side of them, doing everything that I assigned them to do.

James Marcum wound up as my best (male) friend at the camp. Guys in a group talk one way -- in which my half-hour of bed leg thumping gave me plenty of 'street cred' -- but just two guys together sometimes talk differently. As a group, sex was frequently the topic, as they all boasted about the girls they'd laid, and I admitted that Sheila was my one and only. They kind of laughed at me for that -- though I suspected that some of their own boasting might not have been completely true -- but only a little, because they could see, and hear, that I had all I could ever want.

With James, it was a little different. He had a girlfriend back home, but he wasn't sure that it was going to last, and wasn't sure that she wasn't finding other ways of entertaining herself while he was gone. On the other hand, there was this one camp counselor, Amy, who kept catching his eye. She was one of the girls who had taken the Camp Crystal Lake counselors go braless teasing to heart, and I've got to admit, she did look sexy with nothing between her boobs and her t-shirt. He hadn't gotten lucky with her, at least, not yet, partly because he was feeling some guilt about stepping out on his absent girlfriend, and partly because his couple of flirting attempts with Amy crashed and burned.

Me? I had mentioned to him that I wanted to go ahead and marry Sheila, but that she shot down every attempt to raise the subject. James suggested that maybe she was simply opposed to the concept of marriage, but she'd never said anything like that to me. Maybe she liked screwing me, but wanted to see what else was out there, he oh-so-helpfully suggested. She was quite the hottie, he pointed out.

Sheila, a hottie? Yeah, I was completely enthralled with her, but never really saw her that way. She was just an average girl, right? Then, I started thinking more about how she must look to other guys. When we had gotten together, she had this mousy brown hair, shoulder length, with not really much style. Then, when she got her hair cut, boycut short, it turned out to be the perfect style for her, giving her a hot, sexy look, with very little effort. She wasn't really thin, as in model-thin, the way so many girls at Brown are, but she was solidly built, in a way that looked both strong and fit. She'd skipped the girly-stuff in polishing her nails, given the physical nature of the work she did, and if she wore earrings, they were just small ones, things that wouldn't ever get in the way of working. She did use a lot of chap stick, to keep her lips from getting windburned, and that sort of made it look like she was wearing lip gloss, but it had no added color to it. All in all, she looked like a strong, physically fit woman, who could hold her own at anything. Yeah, I could see how other guys just might see her as a hottie.

Hell, that just made me more nervous. Yeah, it didn't hurt my ego in the slightest that other guys thought I'd gotten a desirable girlfriend, but it also made me realize that there were other guys out there who'd try to take her away from me. Shit! Here I was, getting jealous, when Sheila hadn't done the first thing to make me think I had any reason to worry. I realized, logically, that I didn't have anything to worry about, but I still couldn't help being worried.

Heck, my whole crew was better looking than I was, everybody but Larry being six foot or more, and all of them with more muscular definition than I had. Sheila's crew had some guys on it, and a couple of them were alphas as well. The more I thought about it, Sheila was kind of out of my league, and there were guys here who could see that. The fact that she didn't want the subject of marriage broached fed into my worries.

I don't know, maybe that was a poor reason, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to get the subject of marriage out there, to talk about it. We were still making love almost every day, the beauty of a camp in the hardwood forests of Vermont making this place so romantic, despite all of the work we had to do. I kept talking to James, and finally he said, "Look, don't 'discuss' marriage with Sheila, just plain ask her, just propose already. Man up, and get it done."

You know, he was right. Screw 'discussing' it, and just propose, go buy a ring, and just propose already!

Of course, Sheila never wore rings, and I had no idea what her ring size was. Heck, I didn't even know how rings were sized. Amy's hands looked to be the same size as Sheila's, but there's no way I could pull her out to the side, ask about her ring size, and not have that get back to Sheila. There was only one thing to do: I'd have to call my mom.

Mom was supportive, more than I had guessed she'd be. After all, her only son was not only planning to get married, but wanted to get married before he was graduated from college. But she told me that she could see it in my eyes, in how I looked at Sheila, that she knew it was going to happen. Her best friend, our neighbor across the street since before I was born, had hands that were pretty close to Sheila's size, so we'd work from that, and both my mom and dad knew the downtown jeweler: I could pick out the ring, and he could make sure to have the same ring in a different size if needed.

Well, thank God for WiFi, and the internet. I used the camp office -- didn't want to leave footprints on my laptop, where maybe Sheila might find them -- and looked at the selections online. The one thing I did want was white gold, or even silver, because the couple pieces of jewelry I had bought for Sheila, the necklace and the earrings, were sterling silver, not gold, and she both liked them and they suited her. Once I picked out the style, I called my mother to go down and look at it in person, to see if it looked right in real life. Mom said that it did, and she paid for it out of my account.

OK, now when? Actually, that was pretty easy! Sheila and I both had birthdays in July, a week apart, hers on the 12th, and mine a week earlier, on the 5th. It was already June 28th, and I wasn't sure that mom could get the ring up to me in time for my birthday, or that I could figure out how to plan for this by my birthday, so I thought that the 12th would work perfectly.

Now, all that I had to do was plan a completely romantic setting, the kind you see in a Hallmark Channel movie, to propose. I'd be 21 on the 5th, so I could slide into town and pick up some champagne or a nice wine, and some proper glasses. Since Sheila would turn 21 on the 12th, I wouldn't even be giving alcohol to a 'minor' on camp grounds!

Thing was, the most romantic places at the camp were fairly public, where I could never be sure that, if we went there, there wouldn't be a couple of campers already there, getting it on. Our bedroom was nice enough, but we've spent so much time there that it wouldn't really be a special place.

Finally, I figured it out: we could take a canoe out, and pick a spot on the other side of the lake. That wasn't camp property, so there wouldn't be any teenagers out there trying to do things they shouldn't, or at least there shouldn't be. I took a canoe out by myself, and scouted spots on the 3rd, while the rest of the counselors were making 4th of July preparations at the camp. There'd be a couple of buses to take campers into town for fireworks, since we couldn't have them at the camp itself, but I hoped that Sheila and I could make our own fireworks that evening. She was just getting over her period, and that had meant any fireworks had been subdued, to say no more, for the past few days.

The evening of the 4th wasn't hard driving fireworks for us; it was slowly making love. We were both tired from work, and slow and easy was really the only way for us to do things. Maybe we weren't making the bed leg thump on the plywood floor, but it was amazingly satisfying, the best things could ever be.

Maybe too satisfying, because we awoke a bit later than usual on the 5th, so no morning lovemaking for my birthday! The crew knew it was my birthday, so I got razzed pretty good, and I was presented with a birthday cake that evening. Since I turned 21, they'd made a cake with a barely recognizable Budweiser can picture in the icing.

This time of the year, the sun doesn't set until a tad after 8:30 in Vermont, and Sheila went out for a walk along the lakeside, into the forest after my birthday party dinner. We hadn't had many opportunities to make love outside, not with all of the campers, this summer, but I sort of guessed that was going to be my birthday present from Sheila. After all, she really hadn't had much of an opportunity to get out of camp and go shopping without me around since we started, so I just guessed no wrapped present from her, but that didn't matter at all to me; I knew she loved me!

We were both happy, and about as carefree as we could be; Sheila joked that we'd be safe from Jason Voorhees as long as we were back before it got dark.

Well, maybe we wouldn't get back before dark, because sunset was getting close, and we were a good deal away from the camp. Sheila must've been here before, because she spotted this boulder, half covered with grass, that reminded me of the one by the water at Cliff Island, and the hard fun we had there. I could picture that in my mind, and how she told me to do her hard. When she got down on one knee, I figured that she was going to give me head, but when I looked down at her, she had a strange, misty-eyed look on her face, as she took my hands and said, almost whispered, "Maxwell Wright, will you marry me?"