Paul Sutherland - Girl_s camp counselor

I pulled her off me and flipped her around. With quick, determined movements I slipped a pillow under her belly and pulled her arms back so her back arched and pushed her little ass upwards.

There it was. Xanadu! I pushed my oily knob up against her ass and began pushing so hard my rock-like dick almost snapped in half. Her screams resounded through the cabin, adding fire to my fury. I felt my dick slip inside, up the hot, smooth passage, and get gripped all over by alarmed muscles and nerves.

I blew almost immediately. Using the sperm to slip all the way inside, I held her pinned down, impaled like a butterfly in a collection, till my breathing was back to normal and she stopped screaming. Whimpering, still mad but impotent, she lay still, just waiting for me to give her a break.

Finally I got up, and like a shot she was at the door, fumbling with the lock and out. Before she disappeared into the night, she turned around, waved her clenched fists and shouted, "You'll pay for this, you pig!"

A few minutes later Doris came inside. Her face was tear stained, her hair limp from a drizzle of rain that had fallen while I had been fucking Irene. She looked like a cat that had drowned.

Since all my nasty emotions had blown themselves out by this time, I felt sincere pity for her. I invited her inside, closed the door, and let her crawl into bed with me for the night. Lovemaking was out of the question, so I just cuddled her till she fell asleep.

I slept with all the soundness of a man with a good future ahead of him. Doris' little body lay hard against me, her breathing regular, her cunt twitching nervously against my ass now and then as if she was dreaming of things to come. And the cabin was quiet and peaceful after the evening's struggle.

Little did I know the storm that was brewing up just for me in the huts surrounding the cabin. As I said before, girls together form terrible pacts, and if a man doesn't toe their lines, he might as well wave himself goodbye.

I noticed the change at breakfast. The fan club that had sprung up so suddenly, had disappeared just as fast. Silence fell over the dining masses when I walked in, cold glints appeared in the childish eyes, and the few greetings I issued went unreturned.

The other instructors were ignorant of all this, and greeted me as usual. But Mark knew what was going on. He beckoned me over to sit beside him, and whispered to me.

"What did you do, old boy? They're giving you the collective cold shoulder, you know. You must have really upset somebody."

"This little girl, Irene, must have blown the whistle on me," I shrugged. "We didn't see eye to eye on a few things last night."

"You mean you fucked her badly," he asked. "That's big trouble, old fruit, big trouble indeed."

"You've seen this kind of thing happen before?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, every year somebody cops it. Usually it amounts to little more than a suspension, a few days of ice, then he's back in favor again. Tell me, how badly did you fuck this Irene?"

"She was as mad as a hornet when she left," I said, "But I thought I'd done rather well by her."

"If she was mad, you failed, doesn't matter what you think. So, well, maybe you'll get three days for it, could be a week. They'll make it tough for you till then."

"What the fuck is this!" I said, suddenly impatient. "They're just kids and we're adults. They do as we say, that's how it is. I'm not putting up with any nonsense from them. That's for sure."

He just grinned and said he wished me luck before going back to his breakfast. On the surface of it, everything in the mess hall was back to normal, giggling chattering girls, all of them dressed in thin shirts and little shorts, ready for a day of exercise and games.

Straight after breakfast I had to take a hundred of the girls for gymnastics. Nothing complicated. Just a series of routine exercises. But it didn't go too well. The girls pretended they couldn't hear me, and I was yelling so hard I went purple in the face. Then they messed up their exercises, and burst out into giggles, just making a shambles of their class.

I tried to upbraid them, and snap them back into line, but nothing worked. Not one of them did anything that was specifically wrong. If they messed up, they did it in a bunch. It was very scary the way they cooperated among themselves. At the end I decided to punish them as a group by making them run around the camp twice.

They accepted this order and began to run to the perimeter so they could follow the fence. But they weren't caring! Their pace was slow, and when they got tired they simply walked. Laughing and giggling, shoving each other, cracking jokes at my expense, ignoring my orders to shape up. For the first time I realized what a ruthless band of cutthroats they were!

For the rest of the day I had to take a party of forty hiking again, and once in the woods, I was supposed to organize them into teams to search and evade each other. To this end they had all been given compasses and a lunch pack, and I had been given detailed instructions on how to conduct them.

But they found a comfortable spot, sat down, and ate their lunch, not heeding my commands at all. In the end, I sat on my own some distance away from them and ate my lunch out of sheer nervousness.

By the evening I was a nervous wreck. No one came near my cabin. Even Doris had obviously been warned to keep away. From the adjoining cabins I heard shrieks and giggles, the popping of corks and masculine laughter. Even the timid-looking Lester Phipps, camp dietitian, had girls lining up outside his door. And Elsa was holding a little party for select friends.

Only I was alone. The middle-aged ladies were busy in their cabins, planning the fun for the coming day. I could imagine them, bent over a strategy board, pushing mock regiments of girls around from place to place till they had devised some satisfactory, health-inducing, game plan for everyone.

But I had nothing to do. I thought about my wife and what she would be doing right now. Playing bridge with her friends, no doubt. Bridge had displaced sex for her. I hate the game. She had taken the game up during our honeymoon, playing it with other honeymoon couples while I played a lot of sports. And now, in the fifth year of our marriage, she was playing bridge full-time, going to matches, clubs and casual card evenings.

As for the full deck of cards between her legs, she had forgotten about them. Not so these little girls. They were just discovering them, and dealing them all out! My flesh hungered for them, anyone, even little Doris and her bald, underfed cunt. If I could only get my hands on one!

I took a walk. It was a hot night, many of the huts were already in darkness, all the windows open. I peered inside some of them. Mostly I heard regular breathing or high little voices mumbling sleepily. But in some the girls were wide awake and conducting their own pleasures.

One hut was especially active. I took up a well-concealed position and watched as four girls stripped in front of a dozen spectators and set to making love with unbridled energy.

They were all very pretty, and seemed to have been chosen for the color of their hair. One girl was black, very black, in fact, her skin glowing in the bright lights, silky sheen. She had tiny tits with big nipples, the first emerging little curls spreading over the top of her cunt. Another was white-blonde, about ten years old, no tits, just a deep cleft in the chubbiness between her long legs. The third I recognized as Angela, the little precocious woman. And the fourth was a redhead, snow-white little tits with startling pink nipples and red down over her crotch.

The four of them were engaged in some kind of erotic dance, cheered on by the audience. One by one they assumed a static position, making love to their partner lightly at first, but soon growing heavy.