Witch of the Wild Woods Ch. 09

May 23rd - Saturday / Midnight

Thanks to Aiden and Luna, Lane hobbled back to the staff cabins through the dark woods. Only the gentle downward slope of the path and dim light from the gas lanterns hung from the archways of the five cabins gave them a vague sense of where to go.

Luna groaned, "Physical activity may not have been a wise idea."

Lane whispered, "What about the Midol?"

Thirty feet from the cabins, Luna paused to grab her midsection; "It's not a miracle cure, Lane. It only temporarily dulls the small demons trying to claw their way out of my kiwi." With that information out in the air, Aiden subtly strolled up to the cabins.

An impulse twitched within Lane. Everything below his waist desperately wanted to help relieve Luna's pain as he had earlier that afternoon; undress her, hold her, slide inside her. Fuck, that was selfish. Why would even a shadow of that thought even cross Lane's mind? Everything about the whole situation was horribly wrong. Each attempt he made to fight off the impulse to thrust himself deep inside the woman he'd fallen for was in vain. It was all a futile, like trying to extinguish an electrical fire with a spray bottle.

Sleep. Perhaps sleep could clear the thick mental fog that settled over Lane's normally bright mind? As Luna righted herself up to a standing position, they both limped up the six wooden steps to the deck. As exhausted as the other councilors appeared on the walk down, it was surprising to find the majority of them idling outside on the patio deck.

Grumbling, mumbling, and shaking heads from the group finally peaked as one of the girls, donning the new alias London, cried out, "Seriously, what is this shit, Aiden?"

A sturdy Japanese boy, Topeka, scoffed, "What's the problem? Sounds like fun."

Before Lane asked what the issue was, he hobbled over to the door of the first cabin to his left. Posted on the door was a plain white piece of paper. Conveniently enough, his name was printed on it. Below Lane's name was his bunkmates; Bozeman, and Nina. He read the paper again. Co-ed cabins? That was... unusual, wasn't it?

Scanning the crowd, he tried to find another Lead Councilor, but couldn't. Mara had apparently retired to her cabin after the game. Brock was taking his sweet time to walk back down from the Rec-Field. Striding over to the most friendly face he could find, Lane tapped Aiden on the shoulder, "I take it mixed cabins aren't the norm?"

Aiden shook his tired head, "No. That's not what I typed up and submitted last week. It's, um, not really... I don't know why... who would change..." He stammered trying to reach for words out of his exhausted grasp.

Lane's tired mind struggled to form coherent thoughts or a plan; "This is, like, a faith-based camp right? Putting a bunch of twenty something's together is usually frowned upon by the religious folks. So, why do it?"

Equally as baffled, Aiden shrugged, "I mean, technically it's an interfaith camp. It used to be run by a Presbyterian church before Jude became the director, but even still, one of the rules for campers is boys with boys and girls with girls, so hell if I know. You think we'd set the example?"

Lane was grasping at straws; "Maybe a handful of us should bring this up with Jude? Looks like the majority are a little weirded out. Or, we just switch cabin mates ourselves like adults?"

Before Aiden added his thoughts, Brock's booming voice shot up the steps; "What's all this standing around? We're up at dawn tomorrow for team training. Hit the racks."

London, the dark, feathered-haired girl from earlier spoke up, "Yeah, don't know who thought it'd be funny to play match-maker with the cabins but, I ain't havin' it. Any gentleman in the crowd wanna switch me spots?"

Brock waved his hands and roared again, "Cabin assignments are finalized: part of the team bonding experience. So, suck it up. We're all adults here. All your gear has already been stowed away inside your assigned bunks. Now shut up and turn in."

London stood with arms folded, waiting for a volunteer. None came. Without another word, she stomped across the deck to her bunk and slammed the door behind her.

Brock yawned and scoffed, "Well, that'll certainly be a treat to wake up with." Vegas followed after London, and shouted over his shoulder, "The rest of y'all get to sleep."

The screen and cabin door slammed behind Vegas.

Nina had crept up between Aiden and Lane. With a whisper, she suggested hesitantly, "Maybe everyone else will want to switch?"

That didn't seem to be the case.

Luna had taken the initiative and wandered toward her cabin, the one at the nine O'clock position beside Lane's. Grabbing the list in her hand, she called out for her cabin-mates, "Sitka and Reno, please report to the sexy cabin for sleep. Sitka and Reno?"

Wandering from the crowd, the devastatingly beautiful young woman with electric purple streaks in her shoulder-length blonde hair strut toward Luna. With a sleepy smile, the girl dubbed Reno gave Luna the once over, "It's certainly the sexy cabin now. Shall we?"

Luna held open the door for Reno and curtsied, "Certainly."

Reno returned the gesture and skipped her way inside.

Not far behind Reno, a less boisterous girl shuffled up to Luna. Sitka, clad in a blue jean dress and long golden braids kept her eyes down on her cowgirl boots. A soft, "Hey," fluttered out of her mouth.

Luna returned her greeting with an equally soft but friendlier, "Hello there, partner."

Sitka briefly looked up, flashed a meek smile, then hurried inside.

Luna blew a kiss to the crowd; "Goodnight, darlings."

Lane looked down to Nina, "If you want, you could bunk with my sister. I'm sure she won't mind. Or, it looks like you're bunking with me." Lane corrected himself, "In my cabin that is. Not in my-, You want to go ask my sister?"

Nina looked down at her shoes, "Korri, I mean Reno, and I don't get along so well. Last year, when we were alone... let's say she got a little handsy." Wringing her hands in discomfort, Nina seemed to shrink inward even further than she had before.

Aiden shot Lane a concerned look and understood the anxiousness in his new allies' mind. Offering more so to Oxnard than to Nina; "Alright then, I'll keep watch, make sure you're not hassled in your own bunk till we get this all sorted out in the morning, deal?"

With an uncomfortable smile, Nina agreed, "Okay."

Lane and Aiden shared a gentlemanly nod. Of all the questionable decisions Lane had made in the last few days, it seemed his moral compass still partially functioned. He'd keep watch over Nina; protect the innocent one at all cost.

The three said their goodnights, and Lane escorted Nina to cabin number one. Before they entered, Lane took one last look over his shoulder. The deck had mostly cleared out, but the lingering uneasiness lingered heavy on the deck like a thick, cold fog.

Lane held the door open for Nina. Barely one foot inside and she immediately gasped, nearly screamed. Lane quickly stepped in front of the Pixie Girl and balled his fists, ready to strike. His eyes took a second to adjust, but he was indeed staring at his own reflection. Certainly a disconcerting place for a standing mirror.

"Come on," Lane assured Nina, "No reason to be so jumpy."

Ignoring their reflections, Lane and Nina stepped inside. The room was split into two thirds. Within the first third was the foyer separated by a thin wooden wall that stretched a little more than halfway to the other end. A simple desk and chair were pushed up against the far-right under a window.

Along the same wall stood a cedar-framed bunkbed pushed into the top right corner. To the left sat a queen bed, on top of which was Bozeman, already fast asleep face down on the mattress. Or was he? He still wore his pair of aviator shades. Hands folded atop his steady rising and falling chest. Past Boseman, was another identical desk and chair were in the top left corner. Simple, dorm-style layout. Nothing menacing... Yet.

Lane turned to Nina, "What'll it be Nina, top or bottom?"

The Pixie pointed to the top bunk. Sound strategy: safety on the high ground. Lane nodded, "Alright then, get some sleep. We'll get this all straightened out in the morning."

Nina nodded, yawned and stretched her arms up to climb into her bunk. Her tank top rose with her arms exposing a bare midriff, flat, fit and pale. As she climbed up into the bunk, Lane couldn't help but notice her small and pert ass framed within the tight, teal bike shorts she'd changed into for the night game. Lane shook his head. His pulse had quickened despite his exhaustion and battered body. He had to focus, had to keep his cool. Hadn't he already gotten into enough trouble?

Lane peeled off his grass-stained shirt and threw it on top of his duffle bag. His gear had indeed been delivered to the room just as Vegas had said. Why? It certainly hadn't been random. Aching as he did so, Lane unbuttoned his blue jeans and let them drop to the floor. He usually just slept in his boxers, but suddenly remembered Nina sleeping above him. Fishing around blindly in his duffle bag, he pulled out a pair of cargo shorts. As easy as it was to find pajamas, he was disappointed that an answer to the co-ed cabins situation wasn't as easy to grasp.

Forget it, Lane thought, to tired.

It'll all get sorted out in the morning.

He had to sleep.

He had to fix what he'd done with Luna.

He had to make it right again.

--

About an hour or two had drifted by like a river of mud. Lane wasn't sleeping. He thought the altitude or sheer physical exhaustion would've taken their toll by now. Neither appeared to be the case. Above him, Nina's rhythmic and frankly adorable breathing at least gave Lane peace of mind that she was safe, undisturbed. To his right, however, he became aware Bozeman was absent from his bunk. Lane shot up at the ready, not entirely sure what he should ready himself for. He swung his feet over the side of the lower bunk and scanned the room.

Lane whispered into the darkness, "Bozeman?"

No response.

Reaching into his duffle bag, he pulled out the first t-shirt his fingers came across and pulled over his head. He pushed his feet into the boots he'd neglected to untie, stood up, and crossed over the new ash-colored carpet to the foyer. Only the gas lamp hung from outside the cabin provided any light; barely enough to make out darkened outlines of shapes. Not a sign of Bozeman.

It wasn't until Lane opened the door that the cold air reminded him of the urgent need to piss something fierce. He'd be quick. He'd made a silent promise; protect the innocent Pixie. Lane never took promised lightly.

Jogging to the shower room, Lane nearly fell face-first into the odd not-a-fire-pit sunk in the center of the deck, sidestepping at the last possible second. He halted in his tracks as the wood creaked beneath his feet. Early morning wildlife chirped and scurried through the trees. Just below the quiet predawn silence of the woods, Lane heard the unmistakable sound of muffled moaning. Lane inched closer to the bathroom. His instinctive cautious nature rapidly evolved into dangerous curiosity at the multitude of different moans erupting from behind the shower door.

Against his better judgment, Lane slowly pushed the door in enough to look inside. He was immediately paralyzed by the scene within. All the shower heads were on full blast and steam filled the room like a sauna, The group inside remained unabashedly visible.

From left to right, A pair of women were pinned up against the tile wall. With one hand Zoe, or Tallahassee rather, grabbed Gracie, rechristened Athens, by the waist. With her left hand, Tallahassee held Athen's wrists together above her head. Soaking blonde curls hung over the girl's face and heaving breasts as Athen's moaned wildly with each thrust from Tallahassee's strap-on.

Lying face-up on the center island, Cole "Olympia" Gordon hungrily ate out the neon-haired Reno. Olympia bobbed his head faster, licking her slit. He pushed his index and pointer fingers in deeper into her sex with precision: in and out, spreading her open further on the way out before diving back in again. Faster and faster he licked and stroked until Reno threw her electric purple and blonde mane back in a satisfying scream. Once she caught her breath, she dove back down and swallowed Olympia's cock to the hilt.

Bozeman stood against the right wall, shades still on, and hands crossed behind his head. On their knees before him were Vegas and Topeka. Brandon, or Topeka, took turns with Vegas as he ran his considerably long tongue down Bozeman's shaft. On the way back up to the tip, Topeka and Vegas shared a greedy kiss with Bozeman's considerably large cock in between their cum soaked lips.

Completely in character, the two jocks exchanged high fives. Their other hands were occupied, grasping, and stroking each other's members' rough and vigorously. Vegas leaned back to catch his breath while Topeka went back down on Bozeman. He took in the full length, forcefully gagging as his lips wrapped around the base.

Lane shook his head in disbelief at the orgy unfolding before him. It wasn't the sex, or the nudity, or even the sight of strangers hungrily devouring one another that made Lane's skin crawl. All of a sudden, memories of Luna bombarded his mind like a typhoon. The sight of the councilors ruckus and unchecked passions echoed his own that he desperately sought to repress.

What if they found out?

What if they already knew?

Before he could subtly back out of the doorway, Lane was startled by a silvery voice at his right shoulder.

"Enjoying the show?" Mara breathed out. Her hair was damp from the impromptu sauna and clung against her full and lush breasts in wet ringlets. Maintaining eye contact with Lane, she continued to finger herself left-handed. Lane's eyes drifted downward. Her firetruck polished fingernails rapidly disappeared and reappeared. The well-manicured hair around her lower lips was equally as bright as the hair on her head.

"Well," Mara breathed out, "Are you coming in, or just... spectating?"

Lane stammered; "Just needed to, um, use the restroom?"

Mara rolled her eyes, "Nothing stopping you."

Almost as if sleepwalking, Lane took a timid step forward. His eyes darted from Athens turning over on the wall and taking in Tallahassee's plastic cock from behind. Reno sat up on Olympia's face and spun around, grinding herself over his tongue as he quivered and whimpered.

Brock looked up from Bozeman, swallowed, and waved to Lane, "If it ain't the Runner-Up; come to join the rest of the team? Dude, you've gotta try some of this cock. I don't know what Bozeman's does to it, but it tastes fucking amazing." Even while talking at Lane, he kept one hand firmly around Topeka's dick. With his free hand, Vegas wiped his mouth and grinned.

Lane was at a lost forwards, jaw aghast.

Reno looked up from Cole, one hand firmly wrapped around his sopping wet erection, and continued to angrily stroke it; "There's room for one more over here, Roswell."

Cole tilted his head to the side and gasped for breath; "I don't roll that way, Honey."

Reaching forward with her free hand, Korri grabbed Cole by the hair and brought his mouth back up to her drenched pussy; "Tongues are for licking, not for talking. Back to work now. I'm almost there... Almost... there!" Reno glanced once more to Lane; "Your sister might be on the rag, but I don't think you've got the same problem. Or maybe you do? I'm sure Tallahassee could help you out if that's the case."

With both hands firmly on Athen's full and magnificent round ass, Zoey called back, "Only one pussy at a time, please. This one's already a handful."

Athen's leaned her head back to kiss Zoey; "I'm two hands full and you love it!"

Tallahassee drank from Athens' lips and slapped her on the ass hard enough to elicit a yelp and moan in the same breath. With her left hand, Zoe pulled back on Gracie's hair. As Tallahassee gradually pulled tighter, Athens arched her back further while taking Zoe's plastic cock in deeper and harder with each stroke.

Mara snarled, her dripping wet body dangerously lingered close to Lane, "So? In or out?" Reaching forward, Wichita ran her fingers up the inner seam of Lane's shorts. He was stiff. He was shaking. He had to escape.

Without another word, Lane nearly tripped backward out of the door. He darted across the deck. He picked up speed until he'd sprinted past the Great Lodge. Laughter from the spa chased after him and faded like a phantom as the gravel crouched beneath his boots, and the cool summer air swept past his face. Winded, Lane trotted to a halt. He struggled to catch his breath.

Lane was far from a prude, but he was assuraidly unnerved all the same.

No. No that wasn't it. Lane was just caught off guard. Right? What he came across was simply something uncategorized in his mental filing cabinet; a group of consenting young-adults participating in unbridled lust. It wasn't the act itself. It was the mental imagery that came flooding into Lane's mind that threw him off. In any other setting or state of mind, Lane would have been open exploration. In fact, it was against his character that he ran rather than stay and experiment with the unknown.

That wasn't the case now.

Not tonight.

Lane had to overcome his temporary sense of dread and moral insanity. He had to recenter himself, refocus. Most importantly, Lane had to catch his breath and run as fast as he could away from the animal howling right behind him.