Tim dragged himself out of bed when he heard the noise and staggered to the door in his night-shirt. He was rubbing his eyes when he opened the door, but after he saw who was standing there he took a step back and rubbed his eyes again. The best he could make out, a perfectly beautiful young teenager was there. And she was sticking a shapely ankle forward, saying something about a sprain.
Claire introduced herself and beamed up at him. He finally understood, through his haze of sleep, that her ankle was hurting and all the others had gone on a nature walk. Could he please help her, she wondered.
He invited her inside the cabin and asked her to sit down while he went to the bathroom for a second. He washed his face in cold water and woke up at last. He'd gone back to sleep immediately after Vera left for the nature trip and had been very deeply asleep when the knock came on the door.
Back in the room with Claire, he couldn't believe his good luck. Lynda had whetted his appetite for younger girls when he arrived the day before. Claire, with her fair skin and jet black hair, her cute figure and pretty face, seemed like a dream come true. But he had to be careful, he reminded himself.
"It's been sore since yesterday," she explained, pointing to her ankle. "Miss Kressler told me to stay inside today and not walk on it and it'd be okay. But it started hurting right after she left. I thought maybe if someone would kind of… I don't know, kind of rub it, maybe… that it might quit hurting."
"Honey, you've come to just the right place," he told her. "It so happens that I know all about muscles and sprains from belonging to a ski club. I'll have you fixed up in no time."
"Really?" she beamed. "Oh, thank you, sir."
"Tim," he said. "Just call me Tim."
She looked up at him and knew what Lynda had meant when she said he was handsome. If he had really done what Lynda said he had – flirted with her by looking inside her blouse – then she wanted to prove to herself that she could be as effective as Lynda had been in getting him to treat her like a woman instead of a little girl. The fact that she was a little girl – or, at least, at fourteen, not by any means a woman – didn't faze her at all. She thought of Lynda having him look down her blouse and hoped he'd do something like that with her. She wouldn't stop him if he wanted to peek a little at certain secret places on her young body.
He sat down on the floor in front of her. "Let me have your ankle," he directed, taking her petite foot in hand. He took off her shoe and white anklet, leaving the delicately boned foot completely bare.
As he knelt before her, she noticed that the nightshirt was all he wore. Once or twice, the bottom of it shifted as he moved and gave her a glimpse of his buttocks. If ever he happened to be turned just the right way, she thought, a lot more than just his buttocks would be in sight. And since the precocious youngster had never seen an adult man's penis, she was more than a little anxious to get a good look at it.
He gripped her ankle and jabbed it professionally from several different angles, asking her each time if it hurt. After several, she decided she'd better claim that it hurt somewhere.
"Ouch! Right there," she exclaimed.
A look of concern came over his face. "Ummm, too bad," he muttered under his breath. "That's a very tricky spot there."
For a minute she thought she'd ruined her ploy by picking a spot that he'd say he couldn't fix. She had no way of knowing that he was even more eager to participate in forbidden activities than she herself was. But he, on the other hand, had no idea that the innocent-appearing young teenager harbored such burning sex interests behind her naive looking face. She stared down at him for the verdict on her "very tricky spot" ankle pain.
"You see, honey," he told her, running his hand much farther up her leg than necessary, "if your ankle hurts right here, it means that the real cause is a place farther up your leg. You must have turned the wrong way without noticing it at the time."
She was all ears. "You mean way up high, like up under my skirt here?" she asked. She patted her leg about mid-thigh and queried whether that's where he meant, but her hem was still down almost to the knee so he couldn't see the naked flesh of her leg any higher than that.
"Well… uh… somewhere like that," he stammered. "I'd… I mean I'd have to… you know, feel around up there in order to find the exact spot." His stammering wasn't part of his act.
It was real. Being so close to the pretty young girl's unstockinged legs was taking its toll by making him nervous. "Uh, that is… heh heh… I mean if you don't mind lifting the hem of your skirt some so I can feel – er, I mean locate the place that's bothering you," he meekly requested.
"Well," she began slowly, "I guess it would be all right. Since Miss Kressler isn't here to help me and it hurts so much."
She really wanted to say, "Sure you can stick your hand up my leg, mister. I'm dying to do a little experimenting with my body and I'd love to have you show me a few things my parents mentioned to me."
But even at her tender age the feminine art of coyness was already in flower. She instinctively knew that she should not give the impression of being too willing to go along with a male's suggestions, even if she were dying to do it any way.
"Ah, yes," he said, "well, then, let's see here." He ran his fingers up to the girl's rounded knee and continued several inches higher. Thus far he'd kept his hand on the outside of her thigh but he was anxious to slip it around to the sensitive inner area as soon as possible. She made no move to shift her leg away from his hand, nor even to look down and see what, precisely, he was doing with his hand.
Claire was in seventh heaven with the handsome man's hand up her leg. She sat quietly and tried not to give any indication of the pleasure she was receiving from his touch. She was successful.
He looked up at her and thought, What a sweet kid. Look at that angelic face. I should be horse whipped for wanting to get my hands on her pussy and tits, but she's so damned sexy I just have to do it.
She twisted her ankle and gave a bogus yelp.
"Thought I'd try the ankle again and see if it still hurt. It's just as bad as it was. Maybe I should sit back farther like this, so you can find the place easier, okay?" she asked cooperatively. And with that she reclined backward on the edge of her chair in a posture of relaxed ease. She even raised one leg slightly to permit Tim better access to the possible location of the "sore spot". He readily accepted.
He could now see all the way up to the place where darkness obscured only the very top of her thighs. One or two bare inches, he was certain, would allow him to view the crotch of her underpants. She was being so cooperative that he was tempted to go faster with his shabby attempts to seduce her.
He told her he believed she'd have to lie down on the couch so that "the strain would be relieved from her leg muscles". It was such a shoddy pretense he was almost ashamed to utter it. But to his surprise and delight, she immediately complied.
She flopped onto her back and looked up at him. "Like this?" she asked, flouncing onto her left side. "Or like this?" she continued, twisting onto her right side.
During all the movements, he was rewarded with some fantastic but brief glimpses underneath her skirt. He saw the panties she wore – yellow with white lace – several times. And once he was sure that he spotted an unruly pubic hair sticking out from the leg band.
He put his hands on her and positioned her. "Like this," he said, "right about there." He had her flat on her back with her knees raised about ten inches off the couch. Something about the careless way she held them in the air was incredibly stimulating to him.
Jesus, he thought to himself, this kid's either the canniest little tease to come down the pike or else she's the moat innocent sexpot in the entire braces and pigtails division.
By now Tim was becoming excited. He couldn't take much more of her maddeningly innocent posturing. And, to make matters worse, his excitement was fast becoming quite visible, right below the long tail of his nightshirt. His penis was stiffening and threatening to poke out from underneath at any moment. He ran his hand all the way up to her leg band and looked down to see his fingers shaking. It wasn't from fear. He was dying to touch her. It was from pure nervous energy that kept piling up because he had to continually restrain himself.
She flinched and giggled. Giggled. He couldn't believe it. "What's wrong?" he asked incredulously. "I thought you were hurting."
That's when she blew his mind. She calmly crossed one over the other, giving him a clear view all the way to her navel, and folded both – arms back under her head like a pillow. The expression on her face was one of amusement, almost of derision.
"Wow, Tim," she exclaimed, "I just can't help laughing at us, that's all. I can tell your wanting to feel me up so bad you're about to piss in your pants. And I'm getting antsy to have you put your hands all over me and give me a good rubbing up. But here I am playing like I've got a sore ankle and you're pretending you know how to fix it. Which one of us is nuttier, anyway?"
Tim sat down on the floor heavily, as though he'd been pushed. The complete surprise with which her words took him was total. And the maturity and candor which she exhibited in uttering them was unprecedented. He'd never known fourteen-year-old girls had such sophistication. And the change had been so rapid with Claire. It was almost as though some worldly, calculating twenty-five year old was talking through the mouth of an angelic, sweet-faced child barely into her teens. Also, he realized he had been taken. He had been fooled by her more than he had fooled her. His ego raised its ugly head.
Finally he could speak. He wasted no time, but got to point. He felt like he was bargaining for a slut in a Tijuana whore house, but he did it just the same. "Let me get this straight," he said. "You want your little cunt fucked and you want me to strip you naked and suck your tithes and everything, right?" he asked.
"Well?" she demurred, "everything except the fucking part. I'm still a virgin, you know. I'm not lying. I want to be sure and keep my cherry. My mom gives me an examination twice a year and if I ever show up with my cherry busted, it's my ass. But outside of that, you can do anything you want to. I've never had a guy do much to me and I want to get in on the action. I've let a few boys my age feel me up in theaters, but that's no good. They're afraid to do very much there. So I want to see what it's like to have a guy as old as you do stuff to me. I guess I talk like I know more than I do. You know what I mean? I know all about stuff from hearing my older girl friends talk about it. I've just never actually had any of it done to me yet and I'm tired of finger-fucking myself every night in bed while I think about some guy getting in my panties and fooling with me. You have to start sometime, don't you?"
Tim looked at her with increasing awe, but also with increasing joy. He was actually going to get to make love to this lovely young girl. The only provision was that he not rupture her maidenhead. And there were many ways around that, he thought to himself. Many delightful ways. He rose up to his feet and looked down at her. She still lay on her back, with one foot tossed nonchalantly over her knee, her panties clearly visible underneath her skirt. She was staring up at him with a blank, innocent little smile.
"Yeah, honey, you sure as hell do have to start somewhere. And for you, why not let it be right here?" he asked. Her only response was another giggle.
Very slowly, with deliberate ease, he removed her other shoe and sock. He reached under her skirt, this time all the way to the long desired panties, and caressed the silky fabric indulgently. His hands trembled. The sight of such a rich bounty of beautiful young flesh at his disposal was too much for his pent-up desires. He loosened the top of her skirt and took it off, first slowly, but then, realizing the new power that was his, he jerked it off more quickly. The surfaces of her lovely limbs looked smooth as powder.
Then he moved upward. He raised the bottom of her shirt and fondled the softness of her flat young stomach. He could see the beginnings of her breasts now. He knew that all he had to do in order to view their complete, exciting nakedness was to unbutton the few buttons down the front of her shirt and open the garment wide. His fingers dashed up the front, unbuttoning as they went.
When his hand reached her collar, the shirt fell open under its own weight. When he saw the perfect symmetry of her dove-soft adolescent breasts, his breath caught in his throat and he could hardly wait to have his fingertips on them. He jerked the shirt to the side and rolled her half onto her side and grabbed it off her body. He flung it onto the floor and looked back on her nearly naked form.
"If that ain't a sweet pair of titties, I don't know what is!" he exclaimed. "I bet all the boys in your school would like to get their hands on those. It's a damn sin to make a girl like you bind titties like that up in a fucking brassiere."
"Thank you," she replied.
He had almost forgotten she could talk. She still lay with the same serene expression on her face. She wasn't trying to avoid watching what was happening to her either. She appeared to love seeing him put his hands on her. When he finally lowered his hands to the succulent skin of her breasts, she sighed and looked closely at his fingers as they began kneading the resilient flesh.
"You still have too many clothes on," he told her. He hooked a finger in her panties and slid them down one side of her hips, then turned her onto the other side. He was able then to skin them all the way off her legs. He threw them on a chair and stared at the coal black curls in her pelvic junction. They were not as abundant as they would be later in life, he reflected, but what her pubic hair lacked in quality, it made up in the graceful fragility of its form. The outer curls seemed to make a delicate design against the paleness of her white skin. In the center of the mass of curly hairs was a lovely long hillock of flesh that drew Tim's eyes like a magnet. He was above her, looking down on her nakedness, and he could see everything he wanted to look at. She lay there, knowing he was gazing at her bare body with lust in his eyes, and let him look all he wanted to.
He touched her firm, slim stomach, then the edge of her small forest of hairs. She smiled up at him and brazenly moved her pelvis in a slow, undulating circle under his gaze. He put his hand into the depths of the hair and touched the fleshy hillock.
"You like it when somebody touches you there?" he asked.
"I like it when you do," she replied.
"You ever have anybody else touch you there?"
"A few."
"You touch yourself there?"
"Sometimes."
"Feel good when you do?"
"Ummm… yeah!"
"Can you come, can you get your cookies off?"
"Sure. I love it."
"You know how to do the same for a man?"
"Uh huh."
"If you never did it for a man, how do you know?"
"Girl friends told me how."
"Lay back. Spread your legs. Feel that?"
He put his hand deeper into her crevice of her genitals and inserted a finger between her pooched-out lower lips as he spoke…
"Um… yeah. Um, it's good," she answered.
"Is this how you play with yourself?"
"Sort of."
"Look. Put your hand on my cock. Ever see a man's cock before?"
She placed her hand around his swollen instrument as he directed and seemed surprised at its size. But she wasn't afraid to touch it. In fact, she seemed to relish of it in her hand. "I've seen two boys' cocks. Not any man's. Yours is big. It's fun to hold it," she answered.
Tim's member was now fully erect and was sticking out from under his nightshirt. The red head of it bobbed up and down as though it were on the end of a thick spring. She grinned and looked at it up close. The shameless, genuinely interested expression on her face excited him more. He moved his finger inside her plush, moist organs and felt her growing wetter and wetter. "You like for a man to do this to you?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah… it's groovy."
"Show me how you do it. Go ahead. Keep this hand on my cock, but put your other one in your pussy and show me how," he commanded.
She giggled. "You really want me to do myself? When you're here to do it to me?"
"Yeah, go ahead. It's something I want to see you do. I want to watch you while you frig yourself. It gets me hot as a bastard to see you do it to yourself," he answered.
He loved the look in her eyes as she brought her hand down onto her own genitals almost as much as he loved the act itself. There was an expression on her face that seemed to indicate she definitely thought that she was doing was "naughty" or "nasty", yet she did it anyway. She put her hand in her lap right in front of his eyes and let him watch her feel around through her black curls for the opening. He withdrew his hand from her organs momentarily so she could perform the masturbatory act with no obstruction. He moved it up to one of her small, perfectly formed mammaries and fondled it on the tip while she put her fingers inside her own genitals.
"Like this," she informed him. "See?" She obligingly spread her thighs and allowed him to peer inside the narrow, wet orifice. He felt his own genitals grow warm with desire as he looked on. She had the tip of her forefinger and thumb just inside the outer lips, and was slowly rubbing them around and around the entire moist surface of her little vestibule. The flesh inside was very red in color and was extremely wet appearing. He could see the taut nubbin of her clitoris at the top of her distended slit but she didn't seem to be touching it.
"Don't you work your little joy button over when you frig yourself?" he asked.
"Not at first," she replied. "Usually I do that later when I'm so hot I need to bring myself off in a hurry. Feels good to fool around right next to it, though."
She had kept her hand on the thick shaft of his organ all the while and he was beginning to feel the effect of her manipulations. He told her to look at his penis and she did. She saw that it was some what bigger than before and a lot redder. The change in the organ fascinated her.
"This is fun," she volunteered. "I really like to do this with my fingers."
"You know what that's called?" he asked.
"Sure," she answered. "Jacking off. I'm jacking you off. Jerking off too, some boys call it that. Or milking the cow. But when I do it to myself call it frigging."
"You're getting me so hot I'm going to shoot off pretty soon. If it wasn't for your cherry not being busted, I'd want to stick it in and fuck you now. But I'll keep my word to you. I won't bust it and make you bleed," he said.
"Wow, I'm really feeling good from what you're doing right now," she said. "I won't even need your prick in me to come if it keeps feeling this good."
"I'm going to use more than just my fingers on you, sweety," he told her. "Did you know that?"
"No," she answered, rather excitedly. "You mean you're going to go down there and lick it for me. Oh wow, great!"
"I sure am," he replied. "Seeing you finger-fuck yourself makes me want to put my face down on your meat and suck you there. You're not going to have to wait for it, either. I'm going to do it right now."
Claire looked straight into his eyes and speeded up the action of her hand. "Oh… it makes rue real hot just to think about having you put your mouth on my pussy. Boy, if I was by myself now I could get my cookies by just thinking about you doing that and frigging myself for a few minutes."
"Well, you won't have to frig yourself now. I'm right here with you and I'm going to do it for you. Except I'll be frigging you with my mouth. I'll be sucking you and licking your hot little pussy with my mouth," he continued.
Claire started tensing her thighs and then letting go. She seemed to be working up some kind of simple rhythm. Tim saw what she was doing and asked her about it.
"Oh… I can't hardly talk now… I… I'm just geting myself hotter, that's all. Sometimes I oooh… sometimes I do this along with finger-fucking to make myself have a groovy come. The reason I'm doing it now is because you got my pussy so hot from telling me about what you're going to do to it… oooh… I don't want to talk, I just want to finger-fuck your big cock and ooooh… and think about having your mouth on me."
"Sweety, you don't have to just think about it anymore. I've been holding off for as long as I can just because I love to watch you finger yourself, but I can't wait any longer. Here, sweety, here's my mouth for you!" Tim exclaimed his intentions barely in time to get the words out of his mouth. Another second and he wouldn't have been able to speak because of the mouthful of curls he had. He dove forward and buried his face in Claire's naked lap, then worked his tongue around in her black curls 'til he found the wet, slick surfaces of her two vaginal lips. As soon as he barely came in contact with them, he felt her jerk her buttocks and heard her ask him to keep doing it, to please not stop. When he went ahead and actually plastered his mouth all over them like he intended to do she really went wild.
She bucked her young buttocks up and down and hugged his head tightly in her arms. He cooperated by applying the full area of his lips and mouth to her sensitive spot. He could feel the powdery smooth skin of her inner thighs grip his cheeks with every thrust of his head. She moved her pelvis like an ocean wave, allowing her body to follow the sinuous motions dictated by the hot seat of her passions. Soon he experience a new delight. She had become so hot that her entire genital area was redolent with a spicy, invigorating scent… the unmistakable and unique smell of the female human animal.
Tim loved using his mouth on both guys and girls, and he was rather well acquainted with the characteristic smells that emanate from a person when they are highly aroused. Claire gave off a kind of sharp, light scent – a clean-smelling aura that reminded Tim of fresh lemons or limes. The girl had retained her hold on his penis all the while and if he'd had no other way to determine her degree of arousal, the speed with which she was masturbating his quivering organ would have been quite sufficient for the purpose. Every stroke of his tongue across her humid labia was matched by an up-and-down stroke of her fingers at first. Then, in her frenzy, she gradually changed the rhythm until she was stroking his organ twice to every movement of his tongue on her genitals.
His mouth was so full of her that he couldn't talk, but her voice could be heard very plainly. First she just heaved and sighed, breathing faster and faster. But then she started making groaning noises in her throat and little sobbing noises. After that she talked to Tim. "I'm really feeling it come now… gosh, my pussy's hot… I've never been this wet before… Oh, wow… here it comes. Oh, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come… oh I'm gonna get my cookies so darned good… oh, please lick it, lick my cunt, lick my cunt… oh, lick my cunt. I'm coming… Iiiiiiiiaaaaa!"
After the long scream-like sound came from her throat, she bucked her hips up and down on the bed so fast and hard he had to disengage his mouth from her young genitals to keep from having his mouth hurt by her wild gyrations. Her hand slipped off his penis in the excitement and he had not yet attained orgasm when it happened. For a few brief seconds he felt terribly frustrated. But Claire soon recovered from the aftermath of her energetic climax and returned to the job of masturbating him. Once she had his organ in her hand, it only took a few seconds for her to excite him so that a thick, white flood of sperm came shooting from the end.
Tim collapsed and lay prone beside Claire for several minutes without saying a word. She snuggled up to him and put her arms across his chest and ribs and he enclosed her slim frame in the crook of an elbow for several minutes longer. Even then they didn't rise from the bed at once. They lay and played little games with each other's body for almost an hour.
He sat behind Claire on the bed and massaged her breasts from behind while both looked on in the mirror for a while. She took his penis in hand again and played with it while watching herself in the mirror. He wanted to watch her dress, so she slowly and carefully put all her clothes back on. But once she got them on, he told her he wanted to masturbate her through her panties and skirt. She let him start doing that and after he could tell she was getting hot enough to masturbate her to climax, he slipped his hand under the skirt and panties and raised her to orgasm with his hand against the naked flesh.
He then donned his clothes and she asked if she could take his organ out and play with it through his fly. She'd never done that, she said, but had thought a lot about doing it to someone. He was more than happy to let her do it to him, of course. She fooled around in his lap with her hand for a long time before going into his pants, but when she finally did he loved it. She took her time and ran her fingers slowly up and down the shaft. He wanted very much to have her bring him to another climax, but he happened to look at the clock and that cut things short.
He told her that Vera would undoubtedly be back to her cabin very soon and that under no circumstances should the woman find out about what the two of them had just done. Claire fixed her clothes and looked every bit as cute and innocent as she had when she first entered the cabin a few hours before. Just before she left, Tim called to her and reminded her of something very important.
"Don't forget, you're supposed to have a sore ankle. You'll have to let it get well slowly or someone will notice it wasn't really sore and you'll get into trouble," he called to her.
She promised she would and headed for the dorm cabin. Tim stood in the doorway and watched her as she walked across the clearing. Her youthful walk and saucy, jouncing stride were extremely erotic, he decided. Even though he had just had sex with the young girl, he found his penis growing hard as he kept looking at her rounded buttocks move underneath the seat of her skirt. He couldn't help himself. He jerked his organ from his fly and stood masturbating in the front room of the cabin. He kept it up as long as she was in sight and when he realized she would soon enter the dorm cabin door and deprive him of her sight, he increased the friction of his fingers on his penis and managed to bring himself to a flashing climax.
He stood thinking of Claire and Lynda afterward. They both were extremely attractive to him, even though somewhat too young for him. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Vera about the girls and how she'd warned him against them. He would have to think of some way to change her mind, if it were at all possible. He had an idea that if Lynda and Claire were any sort of example of the girls at the camp, there could easily be other temptations. After all, he had only seen Lynda. He hadn't actually met her. The thought of her black pubescence made him experience a shudder in his spine. How he would enjoy getting into her clothes!
If Vera hadn't come in the door then and ended his reverie, he might have lost himself in thinking about Lynda, just as he had done with Claire. But she had a hundred things to tell him about the nature trip and about the girls.
"You should gel a kick out of this, Tim," she said. "I hate to admit it to you, but I will. You know how you were saying you couldn't understand why I didn't get turned on by any of the girls? Well, today on the nature walk I did sort of get going with one of them."
"Oh, yeah?" Tim exclaimed, surprised and pleased. "Great. Tell me about it."
The story Vera was about to relate to him was true enough. But her reason for telling it was not. She'd had a lot of time to think about things on the walk and she'd decided that she couldn't go on trying to fool Tim about her lack of interest in the young girls. But she still didn't want to tell him about her previous sex rendezvous with Lynda, so she decided she would work up to it. She'd admit interest in some of the girls and then eventually when she did make love with one – probably with Lynda – she could tell him about it and everything would come out all right.
"The girl is Dana. And she's the oldest girl in the troop, too, smarty. Sixteen. So there, you see, I still don't classify myself as a cradle snatcher like I think you'd like to be," she remarked.
"This girl is a real looker, Tim. No doubt about it. I'd just always considered her too young before today. But she did a few things that made me reconsider. She's blonde, rather tall, a pretty face, and a nice figure."
"Ummm, sounds good. How nice a figure?" interrupted Tim, his eyes bright.
"Well, I should have known you'd have to know all the details. You mean quantity or quality? There's a difference, you know. Dana's are as big as mine, if you must know. I saw them today for the first time. That takes care of the quantity. But as for the quality, I didn't feel them, dummy, so I don't know about that part. This is the very first time I ever saw the girl's tits naked. Do you expect me to get a feel of them the very same day?"
"Okay," Tim said, "okay… proceed."
"We were up on the ridge gathering berry samples for identification. Someone accidentally knocked over the work tray and spilled some of the materials. We had a certain schedule to keep, so I told all the girls to go on ahead and do the work while I stayed behind and picked up the slide trays and leaf samples. But one girl – Dana – surprised me by volunteering to stay behind with me and help clean up the mess and repack it. Since it was a very bothersome kind of job and she was sweet enough to offer her help, I could hardly turn her down, right?"
"So?" questioned Tim.
"So the two of us were alone for half an hour or so. As we bent down to work the area where the stuff had been spilled, I began to notice that Dana seemed to always be bending down right in front of me. I couldn't help but get an eyeful."
"Naturally," interjected Tim with sarcasm.
"I would have let it pass but it kept happening again and again. And to tell you the truth, I kept being distracted from what I was doing by them. I…"
But Tim interrupted again. "Them?" he asked. "I thought just one girl stayed behind to help you – this Dana girl. Who's 'them', anyway?"
"Tim," yelled Vera, exasperated, "I'm talking about the girl's tits, damn it, not about two girls. Now will you keep still and let me tell you what happened?"
Tim nodded agreement, "Okay," he said, "I'll keep still for any story with tits in it."
"I kept being distracted from what I was doing because every time Dana leaned over, she seemed to be right square in front of me. I must admit, she does have some really fine tits on her. The big fair-skinned, pink kind, you know. Then once she caught me looking down her blouse. That did it."
"She said, 'Oh, Miss Kressler, I just realized I'm not wearing a bra today. Hope I didn't offend you by the way I'm bouncing around. I'm sort of busty and if I don't wear a bra I usually wind up bouncing around quite a bit.'"
"Before I could answer, she says, 'But I guess you know what I mean about that. I mean… you have a pretty big pair – if you'll excuse me for saying so, Miss Kressler – so you know how it is when you're wearing a loose-fitting top – and no bra.'"
"I nodded and told her I knew what she meant. Even though I didn't make any further comment, she kept on the subject. She said, 'In a way, I wish mine were smaller. Not that they're that gigantic or anything. But some of the younger girls who don't yet have their tits – oh, Miss Kressler, I'm sorry, please forgive me, I mean – their breasts fully developed yet, they have an easier time of it, I think. Besides, they look nicer, don't you think?'"
"I had to stop and realize that somehow the conversation had worked itself around to her asking me whether I preferred small tits to large tits."
"I realized by then that she was undoubtedly feeling me out to see if I was gay, but I went along with the game. I decided I'd play too. So I said, 'Yes, in away I prefer small breasts on a girl. But in another way I prefer larger ones. It's really kind of difficult to say which is best. I must say that yours are an awfully nice size. Seems like they're plenty big enough for someone to – well, I mean, I know you must go out on dates and such plenty big enough for that, but yet still small enough to be trim and not hang down with flab.'"
"She really picked up on it fast. She thanked me for complimenting her on the appearance of her breasts, then got back to mine again. She said she'd always noticed how mine stick straight out from my chest and wanted to know if I did any exercises to make them do that."
"Can you imagine that, Tim? This girl telling me in effect that she grooves on my superstructure so much that she wants the same thing? And saying she'd noticed how mine sit on my chest! The thing is that by this time I was taking every opportunity I could get to look inside her blouse and hers are every bit as well placed as mine if not more so. So the kid was definitely lying. I figure she must have been doing it to get the subject around to girl-to-girl things and see if I'd bite. One more thing… she accidentally 'stumbled' into me on the way back and felt me up so thoroughly that she just has to be either a lesbian or a master pickpocket. To tell you the truth, I think I'd prefer the former, even if Dana is one of my Campfire Girls."
"Is there any doubt?" quipped Tim, who had been listening to the entire story with great interest. "Vera, the kid must have dug you and been making a play for you. From what you say about her looks, I think you're silly not to investigate things a little further and see what her story is."
"Oh, well," sighed Vera, "even if she is gay or bi, she's probably got some cute little chick her own age. I don't think she'd go for me except maybe just to impress someone. You know – the 'I balled the troop leader' type thing. Besides, Dana's probably over at the dorm cabin right this minute, putting the make on one of the girls there. There'd be no way I could get her alone without attracting attention."
Just then there was a knock at the front door. Vera had started to change clothes and couldn't see to it at once, so Tim went. Vera couldn't see the doorway from where she stood, so when Tim didn't call back inside to tell her who was there, she yelled to him. "Tim, who is it?" she called out.
The coincidence was too much. She could tell from his voice that he was having to exert his utmost effort to keep a straight face.
"It's one of the girls in your troop," he told her, and he paused purposefully for effect. "Her name is Dana, and she says she needs to see you!"