Every summer, from my early childhood well into my adult life, I attended a "sleep-away" camp - first as a camper, later as staff, and eventually as a section head. Many of my "firsts" took place there and there is no doubt that camp life played a large role in my sexual development. As a teenage staff member, you were the "adult" supervision, which left plenty of room for mischief.
The camp was small and had lovely facilities. Unlike many summer camps, the girls and boys bunks were not in separate areas, instead they were dotted throughout the camp often with a girls cabin right next to a boys cabin. Opportunities for late-night rendezvous and shenanigans were even more plentiful because the staff had their own room separate from the campers. However, the most notorious venue for sexual antics was the semi-indoor pool.
The pool was located in an area of the camp away from all but two cabins. Sitting adjacent to the tennis courts and a semi-indoor gym, it was basically an in-ground pool covered by a tin roof with three walls completely made of plexi-glass windows and an opening that ran around the entire building between the top of the walls and the roof. The fourth side of the building, at the foot of the pool, consisted of wooden bleachers and two shower stalls each containing two shower heads against the wall and opening directly into the pool area with only a thin plastic curtain separating the interior of the showers from the view of the entire pool and surrounding area.
The primary purpose of the showers was for pool cleanliness and rinsing the chlorine off after swimming, but since they were the newest showers and the best showers, the pool staff would often use them instead of the shower cabin. Other staff got wind and soon during free periods the pool showers turned into a coed shower area supervised by the swim staff. There were plenty of towels pulled off and bottoms exposed with the usual teenage pranks. I can recall more than one occasion where muffled snickers caused me to turn away from the shower-head wall only to find that someone had pulled back the curtain revealing my soapy naked body to everyone around. While this was always mildly embarrassing, one of the most humiliating, arousing and intense experiences I ever had was in those showers, but it began in the pool.
I was nineteen and the counsellor for fifteen senior boys. It was a rainy afternoon and for the final activity of the day, my campers and the rest of the senior boys were playing water-polo. As can be expected with a large group of young teenage boys horsing around in a pool, things got a little out of control. The swim staff on duty, which consisted of three young women, Leslie, Sasha, and Pearl, all of whom were older than me, decided to end things early and sent the kids back to the bunk to wash up for dinner. With nearly an hour to go before dinner a counsellor for one of the other bunks, George, and I decided to continue playing around in the pool. The kids had all left and we were splashing around and tossing the polo ball while Leslie, Sasha and Pearl cleaned up the pool area.
I have no idea how it got started. I think maybe the ball had skipped out of the pool and across the deck and Sasha had thrown it back norrowly missing George's head, but we began playing polo - the three girls against the two of us guys. The game was almost secondary, really just an excuse to wrestle and splash around in the water. It was Leslie who changed the tenor of the game when she tugged on George's shorts as he swam by, exposing the gleaming white crescent of his backside.
The next time Leslie chased after the ball, George grabbed the shoulder strap of her black one-piece racing suit and yanked it away from her slim body revealing the tan line at the top of her pert breasts. She squealed and abandoned her chase for the ball turning giggling and reaching out once again for George's shorts. I made a move to come to George's aid, but no sooner, Pearl and Sasha, who had been defending me, blocked my path grabbing for my arms... and my shorts. Soon we were each wrestling and splashing in two tangled stalemates. George and Leslie each had one handful of the others bathing suit and one hand defensively holding onto their own. I was locked up with Pearl and Sasha. Each of them was yanking my shorts in the opposite direction in an effort to somehow pull them down my thrashing legs. All the while I clutched desperately to the waistband of the only material separating me from a late-afternoon skinny dip. I did manage to latch onto the shoulder strap of Pearl's one-piece flashing glimpses of her ample bosom. My offensive efforts were just enough to keep the pair from getting the complete upper-hand.
For anyone passing by outside, our activities certainly seemed less than innocent. A fact that was reflected on the confused face of George's camper who had returned to the pool to get George to diffuse chaos back in his cabin. When the young boy spoke up, we all froze in the water, ceasing our battles, but no one letting go of any material for fear that any sign of relaxed guard would open opportunity for the other. So we stood tangled, tense, waiting as George spoke with his camper, all the while still gripping a fistful of Leslie's bathing suit. Realizing that George would have to go back his cabin immediately, with a quick glance he and Leslie made an unspoken peace and let go of each other's suits. Pearl, Sasha and I did not. We watched, still locked on to each other, as George got out of the pool picking up his towel and sweatshirt. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back and asked me if I would be alright. I assured him I would. All three of us watched through the glass as he and his camper jogged away towards his cabin. Leslie stood across the pool, she was smiling and watching us.
They were barely with their backs to us, when the struggle between Sasha, Pearl and I erupted again. The battle was already slipping from my grasp, along with the back of my shorts, when Leslie slipped underwater and swam towards us. I was surprised by a sharp downward tug on my shorts, which nearly succeeded in yanking them off. It was only by splaying my legs and letting go of Pearl's suit that I managed to catch my shorts before they swam away.
Leslie emerged giggling, still holding onto the bottom hem of the back of my left leg. As soon as her head broke the water there was a pause as the girls realized that the had gained control of the situation. Leslie stood to my left, Sasha to my right, slightly behind me and Pearl directly in front of me. My eyes darted back and forth between their faces trying to anticipate the unspoken plans passing between them. All at once Leslie dove back underwater, Pearl did the same while Sasha tried to pry my hands from the waistband of my shorts. I thrashed madly holding on for dear humility. After a thirty second attack, the girls came up for air and paused again. Despite their coordinated efforts, I managed to keep them at bay and I thought I may be able to hold them off long enough to end this in a stalemate. And then another blitz. This time it was not air, but the sound of ripping fabric that brought Leslie and Pearl to the surface again.
I have no idea who designed my swim shorts or what nautical dynamics they had in mind when they did, but the seam that ran down the outer side of each leg ended in a notch. It did not join neatly at the bottom, rather ended in a little upside-down "V". Aesthetically, and practically, this "V" design feature added little to what were otherwise a standard pair of navy blue swim shorts with the requisite built in mesh underwear. Structurally, however, this little "V" was devastating.
Leslie and Pearl came up laughing in mock shock; their eyes smiling evilly. They were each holding on to the bottom hem of my left leg - Leslie held the back, Pearl the front.
