Paul Sutherland - Girl_s camp counselor

Suddenly a rage welled up inside of me, a vindictive white hot anger. If she wouldn't fuck with me, I would fuck on her, and that was that!

I threw out all consideration and sensitivity, to plough into her like she was a piece of liver, or a blow-up dummy of Jayne Mansfield. Screw her orgasm and screw her finer feelings, I would fuck her like a pig!

I fucked violently, driving my prick up her moist cunt as my hands mauled her soft tits to my heart's content. Banging away, thinking only of myself, having fantasies about other women and other sex symbols while I raved on top of her, impervious to her existence.

She must have sensed it because she began trying to throw me off. She might as well have tried to topple the Rock of Gibraltar! I was on to stay. Slamming my prick up her nearly dry cunt, I relished the friction and the elasticity of stubborn flesh.

I came with a sharp jolt and got off immediately. She lay on the ground, her legs still open, her eyes filled with reproach as if I had violated her favorite pet. But I was in no mood to console her. I threw my clothes on and waited for her to get dressed with my back towards her.

When we walked back to the administration building, she apologized for her "idiosyncrasy", and groped for a psychological reason for it. Her parents, she said, had always taught her that the vagina is dirty and to be shunned. Perhaps that was it!

"A lot of parents tell their kids that," I said roughly, "but a lot of kids grow out of inhibitions like that just the same."

"You think there's something deeply wrong with me?"

"Could be – I don't know. I've never come up against such a problem before."

I could see she was really worried. Her big blue eyes were clouded with it, her high, smooth brow was creased with tiny frowns. But since I didn't know what to say, I kept silent.

We reached the administration block to find a dozen other instructors there. Introductions became confusing, in the end we just laughed and said we'd catch the names later.

The rest of the day was filled with instructions, rules, lectures, and finally, towards the end of the afternoon, bus loads of noisy kids, all between the ages of ten and fifteen. They were all city kids, kind of tough and pale, and all girls.

Because it was a girls' camp, there were only the three male instructors, myself included, and the other twelve were women. I looked them over and saw nothing to excite me. Only Elsa looked fetching and sexy. The others stood around like concentration camp guards, middle-aged and squat, like small patrol tanks.

And because there were only three males in the whole camp, we got an enormous amount of attention from the girls coming out of the buses. They poured out like syrup and gathered around the instructors, eyeing them off with a kind of insolence that was entirely new to me. It felt as if they had the numbers, and they could do as they pleased. It was an odd sensation, one that made me shiver briefly.

The patrol tanks organized the girls in alphabetical squads and marched them off to various huts where they were to deposit their belongings and get indoctrinated. I looked after their retreating figures, all those young buttocks swinging under thin cloth, budding tits and the first sprouts of pubic hair pressing against the material, young snatches that had not yet tasted man, nor knew what to expect.

Again, that tremor ran through me like a little earthquake. I shook my head and carted my baggage over to the room I'd been given. It was a comfortable little place, designed for one person. A single bunk, a wooden table and chair, a matching chest of drawers, and a mantle radio. Spartan, but I was glad to get so far away from my wife's vulgar attempts at redecorating our home in neo-occidental or early Filipino rococo. The whole house was a veritable museum of bad taste.

Later, just as the evening meal was finished and I began the short walk back to my room, a girl rushed up to me and insisted on introducing herself to me as Laura. I shrugged and said my name was James, and she clapped with delight, as if I had just asked her to make a deal.

"I saw you when we got off the bus this afternoon," she told me, walking alongside me uninvited, "and I thought you looked very handsome, like a very nice person who I'd like to get to know."

I looked down at her. She was about five feet tall, twelve if she was a day, her thin halter top giving way to slight tits, her tight pants pushed out by firm little buttocks. She was cute. Big brown eyes, her hair wavy and long, upturned nose and red cheeks, a bright little girl I decided.

"So here I am," she went on, skipping to keep up with my long strides. "Do you mind this? I mean, are you upset that I disturbed you or anything?"

"Not at all," I said diplomatically. "I like to get to know the kids."

"I'm not a kid!" she exclaimed, cross now, her high voice rising, "and I'm not just one of the kids either – I'm Laura, I'm a person!"

"Okay, I'm sorry," I said, seeing her eyes flash, "but you must understand that with a couple of hundred kids here, you get to see people in terms of numbers."

I don't know why I explained myself to such lengths, but she seemed satisfied. She walked along till we reached the door of my room, and I paused to take my leave of her.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" she asked.

"You'd have to be kidding!" I said, shocked at the idea. "They'd run me out of here on a rail!"

"Oh, I see, you're chicken," she said, and turned away. "Okay, chicken, I'll see you after midnight."

Before I could say any more she had disappeared into the evening. I shrugged my shoulders and went inside. The fresh mountain air had made me tired and I soon sank into a sound sleep. I would have slept till late into the morning, but suddenly I was shaken awake.

I sat up. It was pitch black all around me. I asked who was there, and a high-pitched voice answered me in a conspiratorial whisper, "It's me, Laura, be quiet!"

"Get out of here!" I whispered, already having visions of ignominy and a life in the streets. "What're you trying to do, ruin me?"

"Nobody knows I'm here," she said, and I heard the rustling of clothes. "I checked. I'm careful and I'll be gone before anyone's out looking. Now be cooperative or I'll scream."

"Oh damn it!" I groaned, falling back into the pillow. I felt the bedclothes lift and suddenly her tender warm body was close to mine. My eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark by this time, and I saw her shining eyes looking into mine.

"Girls grow up faster than boys, don't you know that?" she whispered.

"And Laura grows up faster than girls," I said sarcastically, fighting back the sharp eroticism of the situation. "Now get out of here before you do something you might regret later."

"I know what I'm doing, James," she said, trying to sound very adult. "My mother has told me all about these things."

"If your mother knew you were here right now she'd kill you!"

"Maybe. But she doesn't know, and I'll be the last to tell her."

She sounded smug, and I felt her little hand on my cock. To my shame it was as hard as a rock, and she chuckled deep down in her throat when she noticed that. Reassured, she nestled in even closer, and I felt the soft, sparse down on her chubby little cunt brush up against my thigh.

At this point I lost what self-control I had, and gave in utterly to the welter of brand new sensations that had been building up inside of me. Her slender, silken body, her hard little tits and the firm young buttocks all became the object of my hottest caresses, switching from my former adult stance to one of hedonistic enjoyment in one second.

Her little arms embraced me, her head against my hairy chest as her narrow loins crushed into mine. Slowly, savoring the forbiddenness of it all, my hand went down to feel her little cunt – and there it was, in my hand, practically naked to the touch, its wide cleft accentuated by its chubbiness, hot and moist, slippery.