Paul Sutherland - Girl_s camp counselor

My name is James Doone, I'm twenty-five, and I'm a fitness buff. Until that summer in the Rockies, I thought I was just a normal sort of guy, no kinks, the usual sexual preferences, and happily married to a girl who was also a physical education teacher.

So, when I applied for a summer job with Camp Good Health Inc., I was outraged by the personnel officer's line of questioning. He wanted to know if I had a record, and I replied, honestly, that I was clean. Then he pushed further and asked if I had ever had "relations" with a minor.

Well, I turned red with anger and he must have seen the look in my eye because he hastily assured me it was a routine line of questioning. Every applicant, he told me, had to be carefully screened because parents sent their offspring to the summer camp in good faith; and it was up to him to see that faith would not be shattered.

He went on to ask about my sex life with my wife. I told him to mind his own business, but that it was normal. He asked me what normal was. I finally told him twice a week was as normal as I ever wanted to be. Little did I know that I almost blew the job with that answer.

But he went on to dig into my past, and when he heard that I had been working with kids ever since I left college, he was much nicer to me. And before the month was over, I had been notified that the job was mine.

At the end of May I drove up to the camp. It was a big place, long huts set among the trees, gravel paths and rolling lawns, sports fields, and a central building made of brick which housed administration and indoor activities. All this had been fenced in with ten foot high wire fences with barbed wire on the top.

Around the camp, several mountain peaks rose way up into the light cloud obscuring the blue sky. It was very peaceful, not an unnatural sound, just birds and the gentle wind easing through the treetops. Several of the instructors had already arrived, and were sitting on benches outside the administration building.

We introduced ourselves. A tall, thin man called Lester Phipps told me he was there as a dietitian, and a strong tanned fellow by the name of Mark Dennis was in my department, that of PT. The only girl in our little band of early worms was called Elsa, and she attracted me strongly.

Tall and blonde, tanned evenly and golden, she wore a simple white shift and sandals. Her eyes were wide open and blue, a quality of innocence in them that appealed to me. And her hair was yellow as straw, but soft as silk, and gathered in a loose knot at the nape.

She smiled at me when I told her my name, her mouth wide, teeth white and even. For a second I had a vision of that mouth around my cock, sucking at it like my wife would never do. Then I felt ashamed and pushed it out of my mind.

"Want to walk around?" I suggested. "I'd like to get the feel of this place before the others arrive."

"Great idea," she said, and we left Phipps and Dennis to their own devices.

She walked with a long, springy step, as if the energy bottled up inside her was about to explode into an unbridled sprint. I like that in a woman. Her arms swung by her side, small muscles rippling along her upper arms. She was lithe and strong, but full-breasted and round-hipped, just as a woman should be.

We explored the other limits of the camp slowly, checking the wire, looking inside the orderly huts, and talking about the days to come. I felt a terrific longing for her suddenly, I don't exactly know why. I guess it might have been the circumstances – we were all alone, right at the other end of the entrance, behind the last hut on a small lawn. The sky had cleared and the sun fell brightly over everything.

I looked her in the eye, my hand gripping hers. And she responded. Her hand gripped mine just as hard. Her eyes bored into me. Wordless we sank to the ground and pressed our lips against together.

My cock was hard and burning, pressing against my tight trousers as if it meant to burst them. Her hand caressed it briefly, tracing the outline of my knob. Quickly I shed my clothes, watching her slip out of her shift. She stood up straight, her arms bending back to undo the snap of her bra. When it came loose, the bra fell off, sliding down her arms, to reveal firm, upstanding tits, white as snow, with big pink nipples.

Her panties followed, and she stood before me with the tan of her body interrupted by the whiteness of her tits and her ass, as if she was wearing a subcutaneous garment. Our naked bodies met, standing toe to toe, embracing each other and feeling muscle and tit, cock and cunt, meet.

I slid my hands down her back, savoring the smoothness and the firmness of her flesh, the way her back sloped inwards to the small waist, then jutted out suddenly to form two hard but yielding buttocks separated by a tight furrow. I squeezed her flesh and drove her loins harder into mine while her hands fumbled with my aching cock and tried to insert it.

She was in too much of a hurry, I thought to myself, and gently I moved back, pushing her down onto the lawn. When she reclined she relaxed a little, and waited while I enjoyed the spongy firmness of her tits, the flatness of her belly, and finally the down of her cunt.

But that's where she started to get nervous. My hand moved deep down between her rounded thighs and pressed into the hot, hairy crotch in an effort to locate the hole of her passion. Almost reflexively, her hands shot down and removed my explorer, to put it back on her tit. I looked at her in surprise but she avoided my eyes by kissing me fiercely.

Well, I thought, if she wants to play hard to get, that's okay. We've got all the time we need. And I leaned over her to take her nipples into my mouth one by one, to suck at them. How pleasant that was! The more I sucked, the more thrilling it became. I sank into her tits, deeper and deeper, relishing the smooth, pulvinated flesh, her nipple becoming hard as a little bullet. I squeezed the flesh up so that it formed hard balls of tautness, and let it relax to bury my face into it once more.

She enjoyed that immensely. Her breathing became labored, and her torso twisted excitedly with every new development. Once again I sent my free hand to sneak down to her little arbor, almost reaching the top of her cleft before she literally threw my hand off.

I sat up, pissed by now, hard and frustrated, and earnestly desirous of touching her cunt with everything I had. "What the fuck is the matter with you?" I asked heatedly. "You think my hand isn't good enough for your cunt?"

"I just don't like people to touch me there," she said sullenly, averting her eyes.

"Are you crazy? You mean no one ever ate you out or jerked you off?"

"Certainly not!" Her eyes blazed as she turned her look on me like a death ray. "That makes me scream when I'm touched there."

"How do you get on then?" I asked, genuinely curious now. "Do you enjoy sex or do you just do it."

"Of course. I enjoy it. Just don't touch my box."

I sighed and decided I had better make use of my hard-on while I had it. I pushed her back into the grass, opened her legs, keeping my hands at a respectful distance from her blonde cunt, and waited for her to guide me inside.

Despite her orneriness, it felt good to be fucking her. She groaned slightly, pushing at my buttocks with every stroke I drove inside her, and generally let me know I was doing all right. But there was something amiss, I couldn't put my finger on it though and kept on fucking.

I could tell by her steady breathing that I was getting nowhere. Though my dick is by no means a toddler, and my technique has been refined by years of trying to give my wife a climax, I was faltering. She was, I thought, just like my wife. You could plug away all night and get nowhere. It was so discouraging!