It started with a zzzzzzip and a sudden cold draft on my back. But you need some back story.
I was working as a counselor at a summer camp on a lake in Maine. I'd been doing it for several years and now, between my Junior and Senior years in college, the pay was decent. The surroundings were beautiful. The campers -- all boys -- were a pain, but in a cute way. It was easy, and fun.
There were two camping sessions, and between them we had several days free. The head counselor, Brad (whom I'll call Brad The Asshole from time to time) said he had a girlfriend who was a counselor at the all-girls sister camp up the lake. For our free days, he called her (via land line, necessarily) to arrange a canoe trip for three guys from our camp and three girl counselors. She would recruit the other two, and we guys would paddle the several miles up to the girls' camp and pick them up.
I like canoe trips, but Brad being The Asshole, I expected very little from his girlfriend or her buddies. Unexpectedly, it turned out OK. Except for Brad, of course, who was cringe-worthy. He was loud, demanding, insensitive, and a mean drunk.
Our third guy was Jock the jock -- big, strong, ripped, and super quiet, but nice enough. He may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer.
I, of course, am a lovely fellow.
When we arrived. it turned out that Brad The Asshole's girlfriend was Becca, whom I knew. She was a lovely person too. I had met her at the camps' pre-season counselor orientation, and I liked her immediately. I kind of felt like we had some chemistry and were going to follow up when we could. But Brad T. A. must have broken the rules by traipsing through the miles of woods between the camps to woo her. Now she was his, it appeared. I remembered her as effervescent with a wry sense of humor, but at the moment she seemed quiet and shy, maybe because Brad constantly talked over her (and everyone else, for that matter). It was like they had some sort of abusive relationship, but I couldn't see how even Brad T. A. could maintain one at a distance.
The other girls had the same attractive build as Becca, but the similarities stopped there. Ria was exotic -- some blend of dark-skinned and Asian, with a unique, coppery color and European features. Her thin, straight nose, dark eyes and fashionable eyebrows were hot, and she had flawless, even teeth. She was a beautiful, unusual girl with a fantastic face.
Sophie, though, stood out the most from a distance. She had honey-blond hair, blue eyes and a ram-rod straight, shoulders-back carriage that accentuated her bust while exuding confidence. And then when you got close ...it's hard to explain, but the confidence turned into sexual predation. She stood a little bit close, spoke in a breathy whisper, and often put a hand on you for emphasis. Her eyes captured you. It was like she was hanging on your every word. She was so at ease, so comfortable, so un-shy, that she made the air tingle with possibilities. And that was just a first impression.
In any event, we divided up the gear and the personnel. Somewhat to my relief I got Ria as my bow paddler. Brad, of course, took Becca. He launched his canoe with a public diatribe about all the things she was doing wrong, and off we went.
We didn't have the greatest weather. I'd like to report the sun rippling on the dark blue lake, because that could be beautiful. But this week it was heavily overcast with leaden skies, so the water was dark gray. At least it was warm, and no rain was predicted.
With the unpleasant conditions, and having only a half day, we kept it short and stopped at a nearby location we used with campers. It had a soft, sandy beach, a stash of firewood, and even a primitive outhouse. Quite the luxury.
When we had unpacked and started the fire, I thought it diplomatic to sit on the same log as Ria. This trip was like flash dating with no chance of leaving, so it was nice that I liked her. We had a lively discussion about the camps and our jobs, and I got a little background on her many travels and relocations growing up. She was smart and funny, and she left the impression she liked me. In fact she shifted over closer to me as the evening went on, and we ended up knee to knee as we cooked s'mores. Great start. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the lustrous black hair on her shoulder. It positively gleamed in the flickering firelight.
Brad told Becca to cook dinner and then started us on some drinking games. Becca looked increasingly upset and nervous. She kept casting glances at Brad and keeping him supplied with drink. I didn't think that was smart because drinking made him increasingly surly and obnoxious. I had noticed that Brad had a double sleeping bag, and if I read the situation correctly, my heart went out to Becca.
It was getting cooler, so after getting only about half drunk I bailed and went off to read a book. To block the firelight and party noise I unrolled my sleeping bag on the far side of a felled tree.
Before long someone doused the fire. It was instantly pitch black, and I saw cell phone screens roaming the campsite, bright as seachlights, as the others found their way to their sleeping bags through the gloom.
It was a couple of hours later that the zzzzzzip and the draft happened.
You have to realize I was fast asleep, or I would have reacted faster. As it was, she slid almost fully into my bag before I was aware of what was happening, and then I thought it might be a raccoon, so I freaked. But the human hands and soft bare skin brought me around. Also, there was the finger on my lips, in a "shhh" gesture.
This was a nice way to end the evening, but the problem was that it was still pitch black out and I had no idea who it was. Except that it was clearly a girl, as revealed by the two points lightly touching my chest through my tee shirt. There was almost no slack in the sleeping bag, so our maximum separation was a few inches and that was hardly enough space to pull her tits off me.
So I whispered, "Good evening...."
Again, the finger to the lips.
I really didn't want to admit I had no idea who this was. I whispered as quietly as practical, "What are you doing here?"
I could almost feel the eye-roll. She flexed her hips into me three times, quickly.
I got stiff. My dick was poking right between her thighs.
I whispered, "Who is it?"
Again, the finger to my lips. And now a hand on my cock, rubbing gently.
I was beginning to get the idea.
She moved her upper hand behind my head and kissed me for a long time. It was a nice, romantic kiss with no tongue. It seemed a little emotionally needy. In the process, she pressed her boobs against me. They felt great. I got harder. She stroked harder. It was like a second date at one end and a tenth date at the other.
After a brief struggle I got my arms free and palmed both of her boobs, trapping her stiff nipples between my fingers. Then I used my top hand to encircle her neck and pull her to me for a harder, more passionate kiss while I moved my bottom hand to explore between her thighs. There was very little space to operate down there. She moved her hand and my member out of my way and spread her legs as best she could, pulling the bottom one back and away from me. She continued to stroke the underside of my shaft while I ran a finger up her slit, then down, and then inside.
She whispered "unnnhh" and started breathing audibly as I stroked in and out. But she was very quiet.
Who was this? Sophie the sensual sexaholic was a good guess. Lovely Ria with the coppery skin, who hit it off so well with me just an hour or two ago? My friend (I thought), the possibly needy Becca, sneaking away from her drunken, abusive boyfriend?
