Summer Camping Ch. 01

I stroked her hair and she rubbed my belly.

"Did you like what I was doing? I mean, you know, kissing your breast." I asked softly, hoping she'd lie if she didn't.

"Uh-huh," she answered promptly. "Couldn't you tell?" She giggled and I felt better.

"Were you hoping I would do that?"

It took her longer to answer. "Yes and no. I wanted you to do more than just put your hand on my boob. A part of me wanted you to see my boobs but I didn't think you would open my bra all the way like that." She shook her head, still not looking at me. "I didn't mind though. I almost sat up and took off my shirt and bra for you. I might have if I couldn't get the image of my dad's face glaring at us. Can you imagine it?" She giggled.

I did not giggle. I could, all too easily, imagine her father glaring at me. I would have been lucky if all he did was glare.

"You've been rubbing my belly lower and lower." I whispered into her auburn hair. "Where you waiting for me to ask you to touch me, or hoping I would move so that you could or am I just imagining things?"

Claire shrugged. "I don't know. Honest. I can see how excited you get. Once I did touch you. Didn't you notice?" She must have felt me nod my head because she continued before I could reply. "I guess I was waiting for some sort of signal. When you put your hand between my legs it seemed safe to return the favor."

"Uh-huh." I waited then plunged ahead. "What about that? Did that bother you? Me touching you there?"

Her head moved against my chest. "No, the only thing that bothered me was how badly I wanted you to do more."

I content myself with a nod.

When Claire spoke, her voice was both tentative and soft, barely audible. "What about you? Did you like me touching you like that?"

"Oh yeah. I told you already it felt good. It felt more than good. It was out there, knock my socks off, hot. You almost made me, you know, orgasm, cum."

"What's it like?" She whispered in that same tentative voice.

"What, an orgasm?"

"She shook her head. "No, I mean yes but not the orgasm itself, what's it like when you -- ejaculate?"

It was my turn to giggle. "Spoken like a future nurse, 'ejaculate'. For someone so freaking hot there is this weird streak of Puritan in you. You mean what is it like when I shoot my wad, cum, bust a nut, cream my jeans, splooge? That what you are asking?"

She took the time to hit me in the chest before speaking. "Don't be mean."

"I'm not trying to be mean. I'm trying to loosen you up a little, that's all."

"It just seems strange, those words, what's wrong with 'ejaculate'?"

"It sounds cold and clinical, devoid of passion and feeling." I try to mimic the Grey Poupon dude from the commercial. "'I say darling, would it trouble you greatly if I were to move my tumescent penis in a rhythmic fashion in and out of your vagina until I ejaculate?' Sorry that sounds stranger to me than -- 'God you're amazing, all I can think about is cumming inside you' -- that's all. I really don't mean it to sound mean."

"Is that true?"

"What true? That I don't mean to be mean?"

"No," she whispered. "That all you think about is -- cumming inside me?"

"Yeah, for the last fifteen minutes anyway." I answer honestly. "Until the moment I was gazing at your boobs, gorgeous boobs by the way." Before I could continue, she interrupted me with a giggled "thank you."

"Before then, it really never occurred to me that we would do more than some intense making out, then boom I had an epiphany. By the way, that is how I'm going to remember what 'epiphany' means if I ever have to take another damn vocab test. I'll remember the sudden flash of insight I had staring at your beautiful breasts -- 'someday I will make love to Claire'. So, yeah, since that epiphany, making love to you has been prominent in my thoughts."

"We can't. I told you. I want that to be for my husband."

I wanted to ask her how she was so sure I wasn't going to be her husband. I've always been an earlier committer.

"I know. I heard you. A lot of people imagine that. Based on the number of shotgun weddings around here not many people succeed. Even if you did, half the marriages end in divorce, according to Time anyway. What if you save yourself for the wrong guy? Just because you stand in front of a preacher doesn't always mean you've picked the right guy. I'll admit I might be a bit biased here but I think those are reasonable points."

"I'm not going to get divorced."

I decide to let that past. When she speaks again her fear is plain. "What if I got pregnant?"

Without thinking, I popped out with, "that's inconceivable."

Claire paused then started giggling. My humor tended to be both more juvenile and prurient than Claire's. She was the one on the improv team. Still, it was a good pun. I think it was a pun. I felt the tension drain from her body with her giggles. She relaxed against me and her fingers began to brush at the hair that was beginning to cover my chest.

When she turned her face up to kiss me, my own nervousness melted away. My lips felt swollen. Our kisses were not grandmotherly but they had none of the frantic urgency of earlier. Have I mentioned she was an unbelievably good kisser? Claire, even at the tender age of eighteen, was a true master of all the subtle variations of kissing.

The conversation may have drifted into some pretty heavy topics but my boner never faded. Her lips and tongue simply re-focused my attention on it.

I jumped when she touched me.

"What are you doing?" I whispered into her mouth.

She broke the kiss before replying. "It's okay. I just needed to stop for a minute, get a grip. I'm not afraid now. I can control myself."

Her fingers traced the V in the underside of the head of my cock and I shivered.

"I knew about, I mean we learned about, pre-seminal discharge in advanced biology and sex ed, but I didn't think it would be so much." She said as she rose up a bit to get a better look.

"It isn't usually. But making out with you always causes some. I make sure to wash my own pants. I don't need mom asking questions about the stains."

"Really?"

I nodded. "Sure. Does that gross you out?"

She shook her head. "Can I see?" she whispered.

It was so unexpected I wasn't sure what she meant. "See what?"

She tossed me an irritated look, as if I was teasing her. "Your penis. What else?"

"Huh? You want to look at my penis?"

"Yes."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes." A moment later she added, "But I just want to see it okay?"

I shrugged. I popped open the last couple of buttons. I was too turned on to be shy. I raised my butt and pushed my jeans down to my knees. My balls were caught between my legs. After I shoved my jeans down, I re-adjusted, not trying to be discrete.

Since, I got rid of my braces I was more confident about my smile. I still think my nose is too big. I'm happy to settle for okay when it comes to my looks. The one thing I'm arrogant about is my cock. It isn't that it's big, from what I've read it is average, maybe a little above average. I just think it looks good. It fits my body. It fits my hands. It's my cock and it is the only thing about my body I'm unconditionally happy with. I don't mind if Claire looks at it. In fact, I got off on having her look at it.

I didn't touch myself. I watched Claire's face. She looked interested. I assumed that was good.

"Are you doing that?"

Once again she had lost me. "Doing what?"

"Making your penis bounce like that?"

I grinned. "Give me your hand." Her eyes jerked toward me. "Don't freak. Just give me your hand." I reassured her.

She did and I rested it over my heart. She stared at me. "Can you feel my heart beat?" She nodded. "Look," I said pointing to my dick with my chin. She looked. "It bounces from my heart beat," I explained.

"This is me." I tightened muscles I couldn't identify and my dick stood a little taller off my belly. I relaxed and it went back to its metronomic bobbing.

Claire left her hand on my chest. "You never told me what it was like when you ejaculate. You simply teased me about not saying 'cum'." She paused and I started to answer but she cut me off. "Would you show me?"

"Huh? You want to watch me masturbate?"

She nodded. Holy shit. I really wanted to but Claire wasn't the only one who had calmed down a bit.

"Yeah sure, if you really want but not now."

"Why?"

"Mostly because it will make a huge mess. At home I'd clean up with an old tee shirt or towel. What would I use here?"

"I can get you a towel."

"I do my laundry at home. Do you do yours?"

"Most of the time I do."

"Cool, but would your folks think it was weird if you were washing a towel tomorrow? Trust me you don't want your mom grabbing it by mistake out of the hamper."

"I'll just throw it in with my stuff." She paused. "Would an old rag work? Something I can stuff in the bottom of the trash can?"

I shrugged. "If it's clean, and reasonably soft, sure a rag would work."

"Hang on."

Claire stood. I noticed her re-fastening her bra as she stepped over me. She hurried down the short hall and a light flicked on in the room her mother sewed in. When she came back she had a square of pale material in her hand.

"It's a scrap piece of muslin she uses when she is laying out a pattern. Is it too rough?"

I felt it. "No, it will be fine." I waited as she settled herself back beside me.

"Are you going to do it too?" I asked. She looked at me blankly. "Masturbate. Are you going to masturbate with me?"

She looked surprised. "I don't know. It's not something I was thinking of."

I slid down, lying now more than sitting. I wiggled my legs up and down, working my jeans lower, getting them around my ankles, praying to God I wouldn't hear footsteps upstairs, or worse, on the basement steps.

I pulled my feet up, my knees falling apart into my favorite jerking off position, my left rested on Claire's outstretched legs. I pulled at my balls a few times then ran my hand over the head of my cock, slickening my palm and fingers with the precum that continued to seep from my dick.

Claire seemed fascinated. I slid my hand up and down my shaft a couple of times. This was hot, way hotter than I would have guessed. I wanted to jerk my cock for her. I wanted to watch her gasp as stream after stream of cum splashed over my chest and belly. I wanted to hit the couch behind me. Let her folks watch TV sitting on my dried jizz.

"Claire," I whispered. She looked at me. "Let me see your boobs. I won't touch them if you don't want me too but show them to me. Please."

She hesitated for a moment, then pulled her tee shirt up and caught it under her chin. She popped open the clasp with one hand and then pulled her bra aside.

"Jesus," I groaned. "You're so beautiful." She smiled. She should have. I meant it.

She did look beautiful. She also looked unsure and uncomfortable. I stopped stroking myself and rolled toward her.

"Hey, you don't have to show me your boobs if you don't want to."

"It's not that or not only that. I feel dumb sitting here with my boobs hanging out."

"You don't look dumb to me." I touched her arm. "Do you play with your breasts when you get yourself off?"

She frowned. "A couple of times. I felt embarrassed afterward."

There it was again, that strange streak of guilt, in a girl that overflowed with passion.

"Why would you be embarrassed baby?" I startled both of us. It was the first time either of us had used a pet name for the other. "Seriously, what's to be embarrassed about? Did it feel good?"

She nodded. "It felt great but I felt, I don't know, wanton is the best word I can think of."

I rolled over enough to kiss her belly, well below her breast.

"Should I stop?" I asked as a rolled onto my back.

She shook her head. "No. I want to see."

"Okay baby." I liked calling her that. "You can pull your shirt down. I love looking at your breasts but I don't want you feeling all weird about it." I had an idea. "Why don't you pull your top down and play with your breasts underneath it? Would that feel less wanton to you?"

"Maybe," she shrugged as she tugged her top back into position. She didn't touch her breasts.

I settled back and prepared to finish. I needed to leave for work soon. I rubbed my hand over the head of my dick and began to slide it up and down.

I felt Claire lean and then her fingers touched me. She stroked her fingertips over the lower part of my shaft, near my balls, where my hand was not in her way. I stopped jerking myself and let my hand fall onto my thigh.

At first she did nothing but then I felt her fingers close around my dick. She began to move her hand but she was squeezing too tightly and pulled the skin. She must have seen me wince because she let go.

"Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"Not really," I lied. "Here, like this." I took her hand in mine and rubbed it over the head of my cock. "Just not too tight. Let your hand slide over the skin."

Her sweet hand closed around me again. This time her hand glided over me, light as heaven.

"Mmm, that feels unbelievable Claire. Jeez." Her pace quickened.

"I'm not going to last long, you want me to take over?"

She shook her head. I didn't ask her if she was sure.

I reached down and took her hand again, moving it higher so that it glided over the head and not just the shaft.

"Oh wow, just like that, that's perfect." I gasped.

It didn't take more than a dozen more strokes of her hand before my hips were bucking.

"Oh my Lord," she gasped and let go of my cock when the first jets of semen flew over my chest to land on the front of the couch and my shoulder, the second hit me in the face.

"Don't stop," I called louder than I meant to as I reached for my dick, inadvertently tasting the cum that had landed on my lips. I had never tasted cum before.

Claire recovered quickly and it was her hand not mine that coaxed several more streams of hot cum from my aching balls. Her hand continued to move over the head, covering my dick and her hand with cum.

I collapsed back onto the carpet, panting. I couldn't have moved even if her dad came thundering down the stairs.

Her hand continued to rub my dick. I move my hand to hers and signaled her to stop. She was keeping me hard and at that point I really wanted my dick to relax.

She laid down beside me, resting her head on my arm. She couldn't lay it on my chest. It was covered in my own jizz.

I should have been beyond being surprised but she had one more up her sleeve. Her index finger, the one already covered by my output, began to poke and play in the puddles of cum on my chest and belly.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"It's weird. Some it is almost thin as water. I always imagined it would be thicker."

"It is sometimes," I explained. "When I've been really excited for a long time it is more watery."

She continued to prod at the puddles. "There are thicker globs of white. Is that your sperm?"

"Jesus Claire, I guess. All of it is full of sperm I think."

She actually giggled. "I have a naturally inquisitive mind."

"Yeah, that you do." I looked down at my chest and belly. "Holy cow. Look what you did to me. I've never cum that much in my life."

She giggled again. "You're a mess." I nodded. I had to agree. I started to ask for the scrap of cloth she had brought, hoping it was big enough, but she spoke before I could.

"Some of it landed in your mouth. Does that happen a lot?"

I shook my head. "I've splattered my cheek a couple of times but that was a first."

Her gaze was more serious. "What did it taste like?"

I shrugged. "I don't know how to describe it. In dirty books they always say it tastes salty but it didn't taste salty to me."

She dipped her finger in the puddle cooling in my belly button. She did what I wondered if she was going to do before I could finish the thought.

She stuck the finger in her mouth, exactly as if sampling a sauce she was cooking.

She shook her head. "No it isn't salty is it?" She shook her head. "Doesn't taste like anything that I can think of. It makes my mouth feel like it wants to pucker, like a persimmon that isn't quite ripe but it doesn't taste like a persimmon." She shrugged her shoulders. "Well, that wasn't much of a sample. I'll have to withhold judgment for now."

"Hand me that cloth would you Claire."

She twisted to where she had dropped it on the couch. "What happen to 'baby'?"

I could feel myself blush. I took the cloth from her and wiped her hand off. "Ladies first," I paused. "Baby".

She grinned.

The scrap of muslin wasn't very absorbable. I mostly used it to scoop the jizz off my body. I was going to be late for work but I didn't care. I pulled my pants up, buttoned them and cinched my belt. I remember to dab the cum off the front of the couch and we sat down. Claire took a moment to fix her bra.

We kissed for a few minutes. The kisses were gentle and soft and stayed etched in my memory forever.

I hugged her close.

"That was crazy, Claire. You okay?"

She smiled. "Of course. Did you really like it?"

"No." I picked up the soaked cloth and waved it. "I was faking. I did way more than 'liked it' goof. You were unbelievable."

I felt my mouth start to say, "I love you" but closed it. I was afraid it would sound insincere, a post-orgasmic tic rather than a statement of faith. I would wait.

"You're going to be late."

"Yeah, probably. No biggie. I'm the only one there. As long as everything is ready when we open, the manager won't care. The work will be done and he won't have to pay me as much."

I kissed her again. "I should get going though. The key phrase in that sentence was 'as long as everything is ready'. If it's not I'll get reamed."

"Are you stopping by after work?"

"I'd love to but I don't want to push my luck with your folks and you might still be asleep. How about Sunday, after church? I'm not working Sunday. You want to go to the zoo or maybe the Arch or something?"

She nodded. "We should. Let's do something. My folks will want me to have dinner with them. You want to come?"

"Sure, but mom has been making noise about how she never sees me and I'll be going away to school soon, the usual." I frowned. "I hate to waste half the day though. Is two o'clock too early? Our church is out at nine so we'll be done with dinner by one o'clock."

"Two o'clock will be perfect."

Claire followed up the stairs, kissed me once more and locked the door behind me.

My dick never got completely soft. It was only fifteen minutes to work but I kept thinking about the night, not so much how her hand felt on my dick, though that was great, but how her breasts had looked and how her nipple felt between my lips.

I didn't bother with walking to the bathroom. I had to mop the floors anyway. I leaned against the cold steel of the back door, unbuttoned my jeans, slicked my hand with spit and jerk off onto the floor. It was not as intense or as copious, but it settled me down enough to get to work.

We did go to the zoo. The last few weeks of our summer disappeared into the haze and humidity and we left for different colleges, our college choices having been made before we started dating. None of the summer's remaining make-out sessions approached that one in the basement. Claire would undo her bra for me but her shirt stayed down. She would squeeze me through my pants and didn't seem to mind if I put my hand between her legs but nothing was unzipped, nothing was unbuttoned.

I worked up the courage, sitting on the swings at the park near her house to tell her I loved her. We were not coming off a make-out session nor getting ready to start one. I still worried she would think I was saying it as a means of coercing her to do more. She smiled and said that was sweet. She thought she might be in love with me but she needed more time. Not the most ringing endorsement in the world but better than a flat out laugh and rejection.