Something had happened. . . or almost happened. . . between the two of them that had sent Marianne running, running away from Evy, running to prove she was really “normal.” But now. . . .
Camp Kirby had changed in two years. Getting out of my car, I walked onto the nearly deserted main grounds and looked around in wonderment. How could the place look so unfamiliar? I had started as a camper here and worked my way up to a counselor. I had been one of “Uncle Bud’s” favorites. The director had been terribly disappointed when, after my first summer as a counselor, I declined to return.
But how could I, after what had happened—or almost happened—with Evy? My parents, too, had been disappointed when I decided to stay in college over the summer to take extra courses instead of returning to Kirby. “How many opportunities do you get to earn money and have fun?” Mom had said. “Think about it some more before you tell Bud no.”
But my mind was made up, even though I couldn’t explain it to my folks. How could I? How could I tell them about. . . about. . . what had happened? Geez, I couldn’t even say it to myself—how on earth could I tell them?
If not for. . . that. . . I certainly would have preferred to have been at Kirby rather than studying.
The following spring, Uncle Bud called again, pleading with me to reconsider. “Gee, I’m losing all my best girls,” he moaned. “Shawna and Allison and Evy aren’t coming back this year either.” Evy wouldn’t be there? Then maybe I could go back after all. And here I was, five days before the campers would arrive, trekking across campus toward the main building, amazed at how much had changed. Well, I had changed too, hadn’t I? I had experienced my first serious love—past tense, now—and my first lover. Maybe that would prove that I was. . . that I was. . . normal. But who was I trying to prove it to? Myself? Evy wasn’t here anymore.
Suddenly that thought filled me with a flood of sorrow.
I continued crossing the campus toward the main building, surveying all the changes. The bunks had been freshly painted and were now a cheery yellow. The arts and crafts building had had a new wing added. That building was where I first had been aware that when Evy stood very near me, something strange happened inside me, a feeling similar to when I necked with a boy. . . only even more exciting.
The boathouse, down at the lake, had a new porch on the side. It was on the old porch that I had asked Evy if—just hypothetically, just wondering—she thought it was a sin for a girl to kiss another girl. . . not like a friend but the way you kiss a boy. And she had answered, “I never thought about it.” And stood even closer to me and put her hand on my arm, then pulled it away very fast.
Her rigid nipples drilled an indentation into my soft breasts
The old rec hall, with a stage at one end, had been torn down and replaced by two new buildings, one a theater—this was, after all, an arts camp—and the other a big, new rec hall. It was behind the curtains of the old stage that our lips had met, Evy’s mouth pressing hard against mine for a moment. . . two moments. . . a lifetime, it seemed, of sweet lightning and stomach-roiling excitement before Evy pulled back and wiped her mouth hard on her hand, then fled. It had been two days before the end of camp, and we’d avoided each other after that, till we went home.
I checked in at the main building. Uncle Bud was there. He kissed me effusively, welcoming me back. “Orientation’s at 4 in the rec hall—did you see the new building?” I assured him I had. “You’re in Bunk 6, with the eight-year-olds. You’ve got two hours. Why don’t you go settle in? Your trunk arrived safely. It’s at the foot of your bed. You can unpack—or just rest up. Oh, and I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Yes?” I asked, expectantly.
“You’ll see.” His eyes twinkled, but he wasn’t giving any clues. I supposed I’d have to wait until the meeting to find out what it was. But I was wrong. I found out the minute I walked in the door of the bunk and came face to face with my co-counselor.
Evy was back. . . and we were in the same bunk.
“Marianne!” She looked as if she was just as startled to see me as I was to see her. I froze, standing stock-still in the doorway. “Marianne, I—I—I’m glad to see you again.”
Well, at least she wasn’t throwing stones at me. I took another step inside and let the screen door close behind me. Finding my trunk, I sat down on my bed, my legs feeling decidedly untrustworthy. Evy’s bed was at the other end of the bunk. But I knew we couldn’t keep a bunk’s length between us all summer.
She took the first step. Walking over to where I was, she said, “May I?” then sat down next to me. “I—I’ve thought of you. Often,” she said. “I missed you last summer.”
“I thought you weren’t coming back this year?”
“Mom was real sick. I didn’t want to leave her. But she’s doing much better now. Marianne. . . ?”
“We need to talk about what happened. . . I mean. . . .”
“Nothing happened,” I snapped, studying my knees intently.
“No. Something happened. Something more almost happened. It should have happened. I shouldn’t have been. . . so afraid. I’m sorry, Marianne. I’m really sorry.”
Her fingers invaded the slit between my fattened labes
I looked up at her. Her face seemed to be getting nearer to mine. Or was it just that everything else was fuzzy? My vision was swimming, my head buzzing. Her breathing sounded ragged, and I could see how tense her body was. And then our lips met.
Her touch was soft, her taste unbearably sweet. One hand rose to my shoulder, touching me lightly, then suddenly gripping me tightly. “Oh, Marianne!” Her voice was strangely choked with emotion. “Honey, I’m sorry I ran away from you. I’ve been thinking about it. . . about you. . . for two years now. I—” and then, apparently deciding actions spoke more strongly than words, she abandoned her floundering speech and gripped me full-on with both hands on my arms and pulled me to her in a fierce kiss that seared my lips and surprised me with its strength and intensity.
Our upper bodies met, and her firm, petite boobs pressed strongly against my own boobs, her rigid nipples drilling an indentation into my soft breasts. My nipples similarly jutted into her pliant breast-flesh, and a flush spread through my body that began in my boobs, traveled swiftly to my pussy, and then fanned out throughout my body.
With the same thought in both our minds, we glanced out the window at the campus to see if anyone was approaching. Bunk doors don’t have locks, and camp bunks aren’t very private in any case.
But no one was in sight. Throwing caution to the winds, we yanked off our clothes and tumbled back onto my bed together.
“Do you know what I’ve dreamed of?” Evy asked.
“This.” Her mouth enveloped my boob and began to suck and greedily swallow at it, while her tongue flicked around the distended nipple and tormented the rigid point into total attention. Her fingertips tenderly stroked my shoulder, then worked their way down, down, down, till at last, she was at my hip. There she seemed to suddenly grow shy, afraid to go any farther.
“Don’t stop!” I implored her, the voice seeming to come from someone else, wrenched from me with an accompanying sob and no volition of my own.
“I—I’ve only done this once before.”
“That’s once more than me. . . but I know I want it.” The words surprised me. I had been telling myself for two years that I
didn’t want this. That I had had sex with a man. That I was “normal.”
As her fingers trailed determinedly to my pussybush, I grew suddenly self-conscious of how wet I was, my pussy-nectar drenching my tendrils as well as the slit they forested. I moved a hand to stop her, then hesitated.
“I’m so wet down there.”
“Good!” She laughed. “That means you want me!” Her fingers invaded the slit between my fattened labes, slid knowingly through my slushy trench, and came to rest on my clit.
Her thumb began stroking my honeyed clit faster, while her other hand swirled rapidly around my throbbing nipple
I shivered at the feel of her fingers touching my come-button. I did want her. Oh! I wanted her so badly! I was a pool of want, a mass of exposed nerves, a dry forest long without rain into which a careless person had just tossed a match. Boom! I was going up in flames.
Evy’s finger slowly moved on my clit. She circled the promontory teasingly, her finger maddeningly slow in its progress, tormenting me rather than helping me. “Faster!” I groaned. “Faster!”
“We have an hour till orientation.” Her finger slid deliberately off-center and toyed with the pool of slush in the groove of my pussy.
“Faster! What if someone comes and sees us?” My voice was hoarse and ragged with want.
“No one will catch us. You forget this bunk is at the end of the line. And we’ll hear if someone is outside.” Her thumb found my clit and pressed lightly on it. Ahhh. She was back on target. But she still moved slowly, still tormented me.
“What do you want me to do to you?” I stroked her thigh as I asked. I wasn’t interested in reciprocating just to play fair; I thought that if I got her hot, she might move faster on me.
“Whatever you want,” she answered with a twinkle. “Use your imagination.” Her thumb began stroking my honeyed clit faster, while her other hand swirled rapidly around my throbbing nipple.
Hesitantly yet eagerly I inched up her firm thigh till my fingers were caught in the tangle of her lush pubes. Those hairs were just as soaked with her rain of fluids as mine were. Evy wanted me too!
The realization hit home and emboldened me, and I hurried to burrow into the folds of her pussy, seeking out her fat, swollen clit, and moving quickly on it.
I used a motion I occasionally use on myself for variety. Instead of zipping back and forth across the very tip, I grasped her elongated clit, her sweet little organ of pleasure, between my thumb and middle finger, then moved my fingers upward till they slid off her clit. Repeating the motion over and over, I tantalized her and teased her till she couldn’t take any more. “Rub it!” she gasped, breathless in her urgent need.
I chuckled, feeling powerful to hear her beg me, and did even better than what she had asked. Taking a deep breath, I squirmed around and buried my face between her thighs.
Now Evy really gasped. “Ohmigod!” she squealed as my lips kissed her labes and my fingers parted them to allow me direct access to her clit. “Oh god!” she groaned as my tongue darted out and made eager contact with her throbbing clit. “Ohhh!” as I began dragging my excited tongue across the landscape of her clit, through her slit, tasting her slush, reveling in the spicy tang, flicking against the inner labes, glorying in knowing her female parts intimately.
She left my clit alone completely then, but I no longer cared. I feasted on pussy, lapped her clit, got my mouth drenched with her syrup, and so thoroughly enjoyed what I was doing that I could almost ignore the throbbing demands of my still-unsatisfied pussy.
But at last, I grew so hot that, without even realizing what I was doing, I parked my pussy over her leg and began to shamelessly hump it like a male dog riding a visitor seated on a couch.
“Go, girl!” Evy urged me on. I blushed but kept humping her leg-bone as I lapped at her lush clit. Evy writhed beneath me in response.
“Oh, I want you so badly!” I mumbled thickly, pulling my face up from her pussy to speak.
I parked my pussy over her leg and began to shamelessly hump it like a male dog riding a visitor’s leg
“You’ve got me,” Evy pointed out with a chuckle. “Now, what are you going to do with me?”
“This,” I said, driving my tongue as far up her churning pussy-tunnel as I could while diddling her clit with my thumb. Then I started moving my thumb as fast as I could across her blood-engorged clit, moving like a vibrator, moving insistently, unstoppably, demandingly. My thumb wouldn’t take no for an answer. And my tongue continued searching up inside her pussy-tunnel, slurping up the sluicing fluids as quickly as they cascaded down from above, from inside, from the depths of Evy’s feminine core.
And as I did I mercilessly humped my frantic pelvis against her leg-bone, driving hard toward the biggest climax of any I’d had in my life. Bigger than the orgasm of my deflowering. Bigger than the wildest orgasm any vibrator had ever given me. Bigger than anything I had ever experienced in all my years of being sexually awake. It was about to hit me like the grandmother of all tsunamis.
But Evy’s hit her first. With the ferocity of a wild tigress, she threw her pelvis madly into the air and screeched out a strangled cry of need as the first wave hit. I felt her pussy shudder under my tongue’s touch, felt the contractions ripple along the walls of her steaming canal. Then the strongest wave enveloped her, and she stiffened totally, her body curved up into the air like an archer’s bow.
She quivered. She shook. She blasted her way through a climax that by all rights should have left her limp for the next hundred years.
And then she relaxed just as I geared up to come. And it hit me, with all the force of a wrecking ball, and I humped down against her leg one last time, jamming my pelvic bone against her and pressing with all my might as I strove to get off. . . and got off. . . now. . . now. . . now. . . NOW!
My pussy nectar was streaming onto her leg, my juices squishing in that little area between my pussy and her leg, and she was sitting up, and she was putting her arms around me, and she was gentling me through the fury of my thunderous climax, and she was loving me and telling me it had felt so good, so good, so good, and she hoped that mine was just half, even a tenth as good as hers had felt.
And Evy’s hands were on my back, and then around me, and comforting me, and loving me, and warming me, and holding me in the afterglow. And I was lying, my face still muffled in Evy’s muff, my spent pussy now motionless atop Evy’s leg, breathless and heaving with the effort to catch my breath, totally satisfied and utterly at peace with the world.
We drifted off to sleep still cuddled together, although in a better position. I had crawled up till my face was next to Evy’s, and our lips were still touching lightly as we fell into the arms of a well-deserved slumber. We woke up at quarter-to-four, and Evy said, “The meeting’s going to start soon. We’d better get dressed.”
“Are you sure we don’t have time for another. . . another. . . .” I still couldn’t voice my needs, still couldn’t form the words, but it didn’t matter anymore. We had done it. We had lived it. We were lovers. We were a couple. Putting it into words would come to me later. There was no urgency. We had all summer. . . .
. . .Which was exactly the thought Evy expressed right then. “We have all summer,” she said. “We’ll have nights off together. We’ll have other times, too. We’ll have each other.”
We walked across the campus to the orientation meeting. The newly applied yellow paint gleamed from the bunks. The newly built rec hall awaited us. The new theater building looked welcoming.
But the biggest change was in me.
I would have other boyfriends besides my recent lover, I knew. Guys would never cease to be an important part of my life. But neither would other girls. Evy had taught me that. And now. . . two years late, but better late than never. . . I had Evy. And I had myself, and the true recognition of what I was—a bisexual and finally comfortable with it. Ahhhhhh.