This happens in 1988 and should not be viewed through today's eyes. People thought this way and spoke this way. I am not trying to portray any one person or group as "good" or "bad". It's just a simple love story between two young adults from different and somewhat foreign backgrounds.
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Shayla Black Bear. I knew who she was because my small high school was in the same athletic conference as her small high school so our schools competed against each other. The difference was that mine was a small public school and hers was on her Indian Reservation. I always thought she was cute, but had never talked to her. Associating with that high school- our main rivals- was looked down upon and peer pressure is a powerful weapon or tool for a high schooler.
Then I graduated and didn't care as much about those things when I headed off to a summer job at as a lifeguard, janitor or whatever else management deemed I needed to do day to day. And during Orientation I saw a girl who looked an awful lot like Shayla Black Bear.
Whacky WaterWorld was a swimming pool, lake and amusement park all rolled into one in Wisconsin Dells. Various rides- both water based and land based- go-carts, bumper boats, concession stands, wave pools, diving boards, zip lines and lakes dotted the property. Shayla looked different at Orientation than I remembered her. She was much cuter. Womanly. And with no peer pressure, desirable.
"Hey, don't I know you?" I heard a loud feminine voice ask.
"Maybe. I went to McCoy Public. Didn't you go to..."
"Menominee Tribal. Shalyla Black," she said as she shoved her hand towards me. I noticed she dropped the "Bear" from her name for whatever reason.
I shook her hand and said, "Simon Taylor."
"I know. I thought you were cute and then you hit a grand slam off my brother last year." I let my mind drift back to that playoff game. Every boy's dream, hitting a walk off grand slam. I smiled at that memory. Hitting one against your rival was even sweeter.
"He was pissed, but I thought it was funny. Woulda been funnier if you had pointed at him as you ran the bases," Shayla offered.
"Officials frown on that," I said, "but yeah, THAT would have been awesome. So, have you ever worked here?"
"Nope. Thought it sounded fun to get away from home. I hope to join the Navy in the fall but wanted to work on my tan first," she joked. Her complexion didn't really need to see the sun.
Shayla was about 5 foot 6. Medium height and build. B cup chest, dark hair, eyes, and skin. Cute smile and joking, sparkly eyes. "I could really enjoy her company" was my second First Impression of her. My first First Impression was tainted because of our school rivalry. Such juvenile ignorance.
"What's your story, Simon?"
"Graduated last week, need some money for college but I would rather join the Marines."
"Jarhead wannabe, huh? Why? Desire to get blown up or to drown?" Shayla teased.
"Uniforms are cool, and chicks dig a man in uniform. Also, not sure what I want and I like the ocean."
She asked, "Ever seen the ocean?"
"Not in person," I lamely admitted.
"Then how do you know?" Then she continued, "I joined the Navy Delayed Entry Program and will go in the fall if I pass a physical. Saw the ocean once and it was GORGEOUS! But I mainly want to get away from home and work with computers. I like math and computers are the wave of the future and the Navy is on the front line of computers and satellites and technology."
It was 1988 and she was right, but my knowledge or interest for what she was talking was almost nonexistent, but I did like talking to her all the same.
"Buy me a Coke and a hotdog?" She asked. She apparently was a forward person who went after what she wanted.
"Sure," I said as she hooked her arm through mine as we set off to find a concession stand with a Coke and a hotdog. That was our first "date", and my first date since Julie Makerson gave me a handjob at prom a month before. That was nice, but nothing else happened because she got drunk and fucked Chuck Lewis later that night.
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Shayla and I talked for almost 2 hours at supper about nothing and everything all at once. She explained that her dad passed away several years before and she didn't like any of her mom's worthless boyfriends. She talked about the stigma of growing up on a reservation and how dating, marriage and bloodlines in her tribe were strictly controlled for "purity" and she wanted out. The Navy was merit based and she could excel if she tried, or fail if she didn't try, but either way, the decision was hers. She was bright, funny, articulate and driven. And pretty. Sexy, even. I wanted more, but unfortunately we needed to get checked into our "cabins" or we might lose out.
The company we worked for had bunkhouses and cabins and old motels for rent to its employees for $10 a night deducted from your check or $50 per week if you paid cash in advance. Tiny rooms, shared bathrooms mostly, but they provided independence for young kids who would spend all summer working so others could enjoy their summer vacations. And since we checked in at the same time, Shayla and I were neighbors this week. We dropped our bags off and went outside with other workers and sat near the campfire.
That was when we first noticed the looks of disapproval from the others. A white boy and an Indian girl. But we didn't care.
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"You've seen how they look at me. At us. They don't think we should be friends," Shayla confided in me a few days later when we were on the zipline lifeguard stand together.
"What? Well, maybe a few, but they are the small minded ones. But who cares?" I was curious where she was going with her line of reasoning.
It was about 20 minutes before our portion of the park would close for the day and we discussed a few things related to us and also not related to us. It all seemed casual. When our last zipline riders dropped off into the water and safely got back to the beach we started the process of closing up. Then Shayla said, "I think we should go out to Anchor Island and check on the zipline abutment. I thought I saw it wiggle."
I fake giggled and said, "You said 'butt' and 'wiggle'!"
"No, I said 'abutment'. I should have talked slower and louder and said 'the anchor thingy for the cable that people ride down and drop off of into the water and YOU are supposed to be responsible enough that they don't drown'. Get in the boat, Caveman, and let's check it out," she playfully lectured.
"I still heard 'wiggly butt'," I mumbled.
We rowed out to what everyone called "Anchor Island". The zipline racing abutment, bumper boat net borders and other requirements people don't think about originated from this island in this small chain of "lakes". In reality the whole "lake chain" consisted of some small man made ponds that had our Zipline Races, Bumper Boats, a beach and in the beach lake there was a trampoline island. Lifeguards needed to patrol these various hazards that all originated from Anchor Island, yet that island was off limits to the general public. When we got there she lead me to a secluded spot and surprised me with an ambush kiss. Our first physical contact unless you count the time she took my arm after Orientation, on our first "date". Her tongue quickly probed my mouth, searching for my tongue hungrily. Her breasts pressed up against me and her hip was grinding into my stiffening dick. I wasn't sure what to think, but luckily the bloodflow all ended up in my dick and he knew exactly what to do.
"Touch 'em. Squeeze 'em. I've seen you looking at them," she said between kisses. She leaned back and allowed me to peel the top of her one piece suit down to get a look at her fine boobs. Perky, round, slightly less dark than the parts not covered by her swimsuit. Her areolas were brown, shriveled tight with excitement and her nipples were about half an inch long. I hungrily sucked on both for a minute or so while she worked to free my cock from its swimming trunks cage. When she got it out, she jerked it for about 30 seconds, using her thump on the tip, smearing precum all over the head. When she seemed satisfied she got on her knees and started sucking. Julie Makerson gave me a blow job on one of our dates. Julie seemed to just go through the motions, but Shayla loved what she was doing. It didn't take long- okay, it was too damned fast, much faster than I care to admit- before I warned her, "Shayla I'm close. Oooohh God, I'm gonna..."
She cupped my balls and sucked with a pressure I didn't know the human body could accomplish and I flooded her mouth! Wow! She stroked and rubbed and sucked, switching back and forth between sensations so I could not adjust. My body shook and convulsed, my knees buckled and I dropped down. Then she kissed me and whispered for dramatic effect, "Go buy a box of rubbers on your way back to the cabins and them come find me in my room. You owe me, and if it's good, you will be rewarded."
We paddled back in an awkward sort of silence. We discussed the abutment like we were engineers and calculated the abutment was fine. Then just before we parted she squeezed my butt and said, "Don't be too long. And pick up something for supper, too, please."
I stopped at a gas station and bought the last 3 pack of condoms and some microwave sandwiches we might eat later. I stopped by my room and quickly grabbed my stuff for a brief shower and then headed to Shayla's room. I knocked and was told that the door was open, so I slowly snuck in like I was breaking into a bank after hours.
She was in her bed with the sheet pulled up to her chin. "Did you get our supplies?" I held up the grocery sack. "Good," she said and kicked the sheet off, revealing her naked body. She spread her legs open and held her arms open, inviting me in. I instantly had a stiff cock and peeled my clothes off, ready to fuck her now.
She stopped me, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down, Cowboy. There will be time. First you need to play and I want you to do the same to me I did you you earlier."
Julie Makerson just spread her legs and let me slide right in. Maybe that's why she fucked Chuck Lewis and not me on Prom Night.
Shayla was already wet, but I put my index finger, then two fingers inside her. Her eyes rolled back and she writhed as I did this. Then she said, "Lick your fingers." I did. "Like what you taste?" I sure did. Different yet the same from my fingers from Julie.
"Then taste from the source," she told me.
She splayed her hips and then pulled her knees back towards her shoulders, opening herself up into a vulnerable position which gave me the best view I have ever had of a pussy before. And I also saw her brown butthole and the divider between. But I was focused on the pussy and the lips and the hole above the divider.
I dove straight in. I licked, sucked and followed her directions. When she got close she warned me and begged me to keep it up until her body shook violently and she screamed. Then she said, "Fuck me, Si, fuck me now. And hard!"
