For the fiftieth time, at least, Debbie Marshall wished she were back home in Ohio, or anyplace except here. It didn’t take a genius-level I.Q. to know that she was unwanted, and Lisa and Holly made her feel nearly as welcome as a bastard child at the family reunion.
She blushed at the thought. Normally her mind didn’t run in such vulgar channels. Chalk it up to the influences around her. Lisa’s favorite adjective appeared to be “mother fuckin”. Debbie had never heard the word so many times as she had since climbing into the camper van. Mother fuckin’ this, mother fuckin’ that, mother fuckin’ everything. Holly was nearly as bad. They were vulgar girls with unladylike habits, and she didn’t at all relish the idea of spending almost a week in a tent with them. But what choice did she have?
She hadn’t wanted to come. She could have gone to summer school and taken a couple of next year’s classes early; that way she’d be able to graduate in January and get a head start on college. But Mom and Dad had insisted. They were making the western pilgrimage, visiting relatives all along the way, and she had to come along. And here she was now, carted off with her cousin Holly and Holly’s friend for a camping trip. Debbie had never gone camping before; she didn’t want to go camping now, and especially not with Lisa and Holly. But everyone insisted.
“You’re not as fat as you used to be,” Holly had said on their first meeting.
“And you’re gotten rid of the braces, too. Hot shit.” Holly. They’d never been friends and they never would be. It was so easy to despite her cousin. She was pretty, for one thing, slender and willowy, with a cute face and delicate curves in all the right places, and she walked with a careless ease that made her curves and wiggles all come together in an eye-catching pattern. Holly was made for California and year-round sunshine and beaches and bikinis.
Skimpy bikinis that would show off acres of what had to be perfect skin. Lisa, too. Debbie wasn’t sure which of the girls she hated most, and trying to decide gave her Something to do as Lisa roared the van up narrow, twisting mountain roads that made Debbie’s stomach twitch involuntarily.
“Hand me another beer,” Lisa announced, and Holly reached ‘inside the stay-cold pack on the floor. She popped the top and passed the can to Lisa, who removed one hand from the wheel to take it. Debbie looked away. Didn’t they know it was dangerous and illegal to drink beer while driving?
Holly was busy rolling another cigarette. It didn’t look like tobacco she was putting inside it, and when she lit the thing, it didn’t smell like tobacco, either. The pungent aroma Of the last cigarette was still strong inside the cab and Debbie felt a little light-beaded. Holly and Lisa kept giggling while they smoked, and she wondered if their cigarette contained marijuana? Well, she wasn’t about to ask. If they were dope addicts, it was their own business. She only wished she were back home.
“So my mother says, ‘Be very careful, dear. Didn’t you read in the paper about that convict who escaped from the state prison? It gives me the willies to think of you and Holly and Holly’s little cousin off by yourselves with an escaped felon running loose.’ “Lisa giggled, took a hearty swallow of her beer, and adroitly maneuvered the van through a curve so sharp and abrupt that Debbie had to close her eyes lest she become sick. “I told her, ‘Jesus, Mom, the state pen is sixty miles from here. If the dude has any smarts, he’d long since hauled ass across the state line.”
“My mom’s the same way,” Holly sighed, inhaling’ deeply on the hand-rolled cigarette. “Somebody busts out of the can, she starts checking all the windows at night and putting a chair under the fuckin’ doorknob so nobody can break into her bedroom.”
“Maybe she’s just ‘worried,” Debbie volunteered. “After all, we are going up into the mountains, and there’s nobody to protect us or”
“Can it,” Holly said. Debbie canned it.
She tried to concentrate on the scenery-the sharp drop-offs at the edge of the road, the, forested slopes rising above them as the van climbed the mountains-but the way Lisa was driving, Debbie couldn’t help wondering if the vehicle and its passengers,weren’t likely at any moment to become part of the scenery, crashed into a tree or a rock, or plunged over one of those steep cliffs. And the smell of that burning cigarette was sickly-sweet in her nostrils, making her feel even more woozy than Lisa’s driving had managed to do. She’d never been carsick before but she thought there was a chance of it now. And to make matters worse, she had to pee.
“Let me out right here.” That’s what she wanted to say, but she didn’t.
Instead, Debbie just folded her arms on her tummy and sank back onto the seat.
It was so crowded, with three of them up front; she wished she’d crawled into the back of the van where she wouldn’t have to be so close to Lisa and Holly.
Why do I have to be so ugly? she asked herself. At least it was something to think about, take her mind off the trip.
Her hair, for one thing, was hopeless. Red wires that frizzed a little less when she kept it cut short, so she used the scissors regularly. When she looked in the mirror she thought always of Brillo. And her skin. If she even heard Of the sun’s shining anywhere, she got freckles. Millions of them. They didn’t make enough cosmetics to cover the freckles, so she never wore any. It wouldn’t have helped. She was pathetically plain-faced, and she never realized it so clearly as when she was in the company of really pretty girls like Holly and Lisa.
Her body wasn’t much better. At thirteen she’d been very fat-five-two and a hundred and fifty pounds. At sixteen she was three inches taller and twenty-five pounds lighter, but she felt just as fat, and being around slender lovelies such as Lisa and Holly was no help. Her breasts were too big. She envied the other girls with their small hard titties, their lithe slim legs, their tight wiggly bottoms. They could wear form-fitting clothes and look great. She was wearing one of her dad’s work shirts, two sizes big, and a par of denims that fit her like a tent.
As if anyone would have noticed, in, first place. No one ever had. Debbie had had two dates in her life, both of them arranged by her mother, both of them total disasters. Neither boy had ever called back. Bet Lisa and Holly didn’t have that problem. They probably had to fight boys off with a club.
But on the other hand, who really wanted to be like Holly and Lisa?
Foul-mouthed as sailors, cheap and trashy. Probably without a moral sense in their empty heads. And she was certain that they got lousy grades in school, too. Oh, the heck with them! That smoke was getting thicker and thicker, and the other girls kept talking and jabbering like magpies and every other word seemed to be "fuck” and she wished they’d just knock it off, for God’s sake.
Debbie closed her eyes again and willed herself to take a little nap. Maybe that would help. At least she wouldn’t have to listen to their dirty mouths.
When she awoke, the van was parked in a wide space between some large leafy trees. They were high up the mountain, and the air was the freshest and cleanest Debbie had ever inhaled. The paved road was nowhere in sight, but she could see a dirt path away off in the distance. All around then the woods were green and enfolding and apparently ancient, and she could picture Grizzly Adams leading his bears down the path natural as could
“Lend a hand,” Holly called from the back of the van. “Make yourself good for something.”
Debbie got out and went around to join the other girls, but she’d never pitched a tent before and she had no idea how to assist. “Oh, fuck it,” Lisa growled, “you’re just in the way. Go play in the road or something.”
“Yeah," Holly chimed in. “And if you could manage to disappear for the rest of the weekend, that would he cool as shit, too.”
“Look,” Debbie offered, “I’m sorry to be such a bother to you. I didn’t want to come along.”
“Try telling us something we don’t know,” Holly said. “We fuckin’ didn’t want you to come, either.” She tapped the tent pegs, then nodded in satisfaction.
Lisa walked around the tent, slapping her palms together. She was wearing the lightest T-shirt Debbie had ever seen. It was yellow and it clung to Lisa like a layer of paint. Her small high boobs might as well have been completely naked; they were stunningly molded by the yellow cloth and, since she’d been sweating, the T-shirt was soaked through in strategic places and Debbie could see the large brown aureole of Lisa’s nips, as plainly as if the girl had peeled off the shirt.
Her jeans were just as tight, but at least they weren’t transparent..How, Debbie wondered, can anyone stand to wear pants that ride up so high in the crotch? It must be agonizing just to walk in the things, with that constant tight pressure against her pussy…
Holly was wearing a slightly more modest shirt. It was tied up to leave her tummy bare, and when she leaned forward the top gaped and offered views into her cleavage that proved she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, but at least you couldn’t see her nipples. Her cutoffs were just as tight-fitting as Lisa’s, and when she turned around the lower edges of her buttocks were showing. My God!
Was that a tuft of pubic hair sticking out at one leg? Indeed it was! Debbie felt herself blushing furiously at the very idea, and she turned away. A tingle in her belly reminded her that she still hadn’t gotten to pee.
“Uh, where do you, uh… “she began.
Lisa swept back her long golden hair-she’d have made a perfect Breck girl-and shrugged haughtily. “The ladies’ room is right over there,” she said. Debbie wrinkled her nose questioningly. “Behind any bush you want to go behind, darling. You’re in the great outdoors, remember? If you have to piss, do it the natural way. All over Mother Nature.”
They were still laughing when she went walking off, and she knew they were laughing at her. This outing promised to be one of the great disasters of all time.
“What did I tell you?” she heard Holly say in a not-quite subdued voice. “Is she Miss Dipshit of 1977 or isn’t she?”
“She gives ‘drag’ a Whole new world of meaning,” Lisa said. “But forget about her. If she gets in the way, one good boot in the ass will take care of Debbie.
C’mon, let’s finish unpacking.”
Debbie walked on, tears forming in her eyes. It hurt to hear people talking about her as if she were some kind of thing, but it really wasn’t anything new.
She’d never been a joiner or at all popular, and she didn’t suppose she’d ever be. Sometimes she could live with that, and sometimes it made her want to SCREAM!!! Like right now! Gulping at her tears, she stumbled into the woods.
She looked.first to make sure that no one was around spying on her, and then she let down her pants, squatting on the ground. God, it felt so weird to be doing it this way! But in a moment her bladder loosened up and she felt her piss begin to flow, and there was only the sensation of relief, of pressure dropping. Debbie closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling as her piss puddled onto the ground beneath.
There were tissues in her pocket and she took one out, intending only to wipe herself with it. But the moment the soft paper touched her pussy she knew.
“Ohhhh,” Debbie said, rocking on her heels. She stroked her cunt again, felt that same rush of sensation between her legs, and she bit. her lower lip gently. It would be so degrading to surrender to the urge-she’d done it just, yesterday-but there was something about the smell of pine in the air, about the freshness of the forest and the mountain atmosphere… sighing, she began to draw the moist tissue back and forth across her slit.
Friction built between the lips of her pussy, and Debbie’s stomach seemed to swell up, as with gas. It was always this way. She’d touch herself, even by accident, and from there on, it couldn’t be stopped, not until she’d gone the whole route.
“This is disgusting,” she whispered, but disgusting or not, she had to keep on.
Oh, God, what if Lisa or Holly came looking for her and saw her, squatting on the ground, frigging herself? She went scarlet at the very idea.
But it wasn’t likely. Not the way they seemed to feel about her. If she were gone for a couple of days, then they might come looking. Maybe. Well, she didn’t like them, either, but since she’d been foisted onto Lisa and Holly, the least she could do was give them no trouble. And if lingering in the bushes for a few extra minutes insured that she wasn’t giving them any trouble-well, it also had some advantages for Debbie.
The tissue was soaked through and she dropped it. Her bare fingers now rested lightly on the ravine of her cunt, and she felt’ a quickening of her heartbeat as warm flesh met warmer flesh, and even though she’d wiped herself, she wasn’t at all surprised to find that she was still rather moist down there, but this time it wasn’t from piss.
It wasn’t nice, Debbie was aware, but she had to do it. There was no turning back once she’d reached a certain point, and that certain point was already behind her. She stroked a bare, thick finger up and down the slice of her twat and she could hear as well as feel the crackle of static electricity in her carrot-colored pubic hair, the sparse growth of fur which dotted her plump, deeply cleft cuntal mons. Sighing, Debbie clasped her entire pussy in one hand, squeezing until tears sprang alike to her eyes and to the slitted mouth of her twat, moistening in one action both her cheeks and the palm of her clutching fist. She lifted up slightly on her heels, and there was an aching’ at her knees from the uncomfortable squatting position, but it couldn’t compare to the ache she’d stirred up in her quim, and that had to be attended to. Now!
Relaxing the fisted pressure on her pubic bulge, Debbie once more slid a fingertip up and down her crease, and this time the finger parted the lips it caressed. She’ was damper inside, damp with a thick, creamlike oozing that she knew came from the depths of her body, and the pungent aroma of it wafted up to her nostrils as she squatted ‘on the ground. Debbie pried into the mouth of her puss, her lips set firmly, her eyebrows furrowed with concentration, and she coated her fingertip in the wetness seeping from her hole. Greased, she let her finger slide more boldly, until the base of her clit blocked further sliding.
“Ulthhh!!” she moaned, head and shoulders rocking back, pussy humping forward to make finger and cit bump, again. Two separate tremors rippled through Debbie’s twitchy vulva and. she knew exactly how to trigger a ‘third. Once more she stroked her clitoris, but this time she-didn’t stop when the surge of pleasure came. Her finger slid round and round the excited nubbin, and her nail scraped-only for a second, but a most rewarding second-the raw, sensitive flesh of the cit itself. Her thighs quivered and she felt her pussy mouth growing damper, damper and her finger couldn’t be halted. It shot south, toward that gathering dampness.
Oh, God, she couldn’t stop now! She had both hands on her twat, one spreading it, the other digging into it with frenzied eagerness. ‘Her vulva was slick with arousal now-she got so wet whenever she played with herself, sometimes it could be an embarrassment, but that was only in retrospect-right now it was just what the doctor ordered! “Love me,” she sighed, “love me love me love me… ”
She was talking to her finger. It was pathetic and she felt like a fool afterwards, but who else could she ask to love her? Debbie worked the tip of her middle finger into the, mouth of her snatch- gradually, for she was very tight-and she started to push instinctively up the resistant but dripping channel.’
Sometimes she liked to make a production number out of the act. Pretending that she was being loved and caressed by someone, that warm arms enfolded her, a heated body pressed against her own-it helped in its own way, made the act more than masturbation. God, such a harsh, ugly word! How much of her guilt stemmed from the technical term for what she was doing to herself? Why couldn’t it be called something else, something more pleasant, lighter on the tongue?
But no matter what she called it, playing with herself made her feel better, and that seemed justification enough.
Anyway-she didn’t have anyone special to fantasize about.’ She’d done it so many times with Paul Newman that he’d long since lost his power for her and though she’d tried Sylvester Stallone on occasion, he really wasn’t the type who appealed to her. Besides, Holly and Lisa might get worried if she were gone too long, and she had to hurry, but before she could go, she had to come.
So, “Love me,” she whispered to her finger and the finger was nothing but the extension of her hand, and somehow that seemed enough for now.
Her cuntal muscles tensed a moment longer, then yielded, and she pressed a little deeper with her fingertip, but she couldn’t go too much deeper because of the obstacle that sealed off the depths of her pussy. Her finger bumped against her cherry, and she felt a momentary twinge of the most delicious kind of pain she could imagine, but the second time it happened the pain turned to a kind of agony and she had to pull back. Well, Debbie knew what to do, and how to do it, and she did.
In and out the mouth of her cunt, in short, frantic strokes, she worked her finger, and the muscles snapped and clutched around her, and honeydew ooze was seeping from the aperture, making her finger sticky, clotting on the lips of her cunt and the red hairs clustered nearest the gash, and she twisted a little on her heels as she squatted, making her twat grow a bit tighter.
“Just… a… couple… more… ” she panted, and there was no need to hold her snatch open any longer, for her finger was boldly imbedded in the hole, so Debbie brought her free hand up to the front of her shirt. She grabbed indiscriminately, found herself with a handful of tit, and she squeezed it fiercely, moaning as her fingers did their work. Her fits were large and soft, and the double layer of oversized shirt and tight brassiere couldn’t prevent the flashes of delight as she fondled her breast. She felt her nipples hardening-both of them-even the one capping the fit she hadn’t touched yet, wouldn’t get a chance to touch because she was almost there and. it wasn’t necessary-and she squeezed harder, fingers sliding around until they found the prominence of her nipple, squeezed it through the shirt and bra, squeezed till tears welled up big and watery in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as unstoppable as the rise and fall of the sun, and her finger was still in her pussy, fucking in and out with a driving, impatient fury and she came down hard, onto her ass on the ground, for she couldn’t sit up any longer, not when all her being, all her concentration was focused on the gash between her legs, the gash that no one wanted to love except Debbie Marshall, but who could love it better than Debbie Marshall? Who knew better how to love it? Who could make her feel so good? Who could make her forget that a few hundred yards away there waited two girls who’d been saddled with her companionship against their wills, who probably wouldn’t lift a finger to help if she fell over one of the cliffs up her in the mountains, who wouldn’t come to her rescue if she were being eaten by a grizzly bear? Who, damn it, who? “Me” she said in a hoarse, husky groan, “me, mi, me!!!” And she crossed her legs where she sat bare-assed on mossy ground, and it was like a special kind of agony, the tight mouth of her twat pinching at the finger inserted therein.
Debbie pushed her ass down hard, loving the strange, but natural, (eel of grass beneath her buttocks, and even though there were a few pebbles in the grass, pebbles that bruised her bottom, she didn’t care. One more push of her finger, one more squeeze on her fit, and she was coming, coming all over her hand and her pubic hair, and she closed her eyes, panting, moaning, feeling that she was dying but dying beautifully, her soul taking off into the clouds above, clouds set high above the trees in the midst of the bluest sky she’d ever seen, and those clouds were soft as pillows and her essential spirit was settling down to rest upon one of them, to rest for a long, long time…
Her head was still light and swimmy when she opened her eyes and she wished that sweet, dreamy feeling would never go away.
But it would. She knew it would. As soon as she went back to Holly and Lisa.
For a moment she’d been beautiful and soaring, the wildest, freest spirit alive, she’d been real, but it couldn’t last.
“Oh, face it,” she said aloud. “You’re the ugly duckling but you’ll never grow up to be a swan. They’re the swans. They’ve always been swans, they’ll always be swans. Even when we were kids; Holly was beautiful. And I wasn’t. I’m still not. I’ll never be. I’ll never be anything except what I am now. A fat, frizzy-haired clod. A smart Dumbo. Oh, God, what’s so smart about being ugly and unlovable? I wish I was back home. I wish we’d never come out here.”
Wishing. What was that old saying? “Wish in one hand and shit in the other, and see which one fills up first. ”God! Her mind was rolling in the gutter today!
Chalk that up to being around Lisa and Holly, she decided.
As she pulled up her pants and buttoned them, she wondered if Lisa and Holly masturbated, too. It was an almost universal act. Even chimpanzees did it. But somehow she couldn’t picture Lisa or Holly with her pants down and fingers toying in the slice of pussy. God! Debbie stopped in. mid-step. She’d bet anything that the two girls back at camp had both actually… actually…
“Been fucked,” she said in a giggly whisper. It was the first time in her life she could recall using that wicked word aloud. Her eyebrows lifted and her eyes glazed over and she tried to imagine Lisa or Holly doing it with somebody. Oh, wew! They always said that you could tell a girl who’d been had by looking into her eyes, that there was a certain something which was a dead giveaway. But Debbie had no idea what that something might be. Still, when she got the chance, she’d try to sneak a peek into Holly’s eyes, and Lisa’s, and see if she could detect any telltale signs there.
“And I’ll be as nice to them as I can,” she added. “I mean, they didn’t want me but had to take me with them, so the least I can do is be agreeable and helpful. Maybe they’ll even start liking me. Or at least stop not liking me.”
Full of hope, she set about finding her way back to the camp.