John Romero - Coed camp

There was only one of Marsha. Her glorious white body gleamed against the blue spread of her bed and the hairy frame of Stein rode between her thighs like a delirious satyr. They looked at the picture of Sonya eating the young girl camper's pussy. There were several of Stein and Mona Culpeper.

"That old girl has a nice bod for her age," Annabelle drawled.

"It's a fine collection," Dan said finally, after they'd gone through the rest, "but we'd better burn 'em up. Hey! he suddenly remembered, "we'd better check the negatives, to make sure we've got them all. Here; let's match the negatives with the prints."

They matched them out on the table top.

"All here," Annabelle announced. "Thank heaven for that. Now let's build that fire and destroy the evidence."

Dan tossed together a large pile of dead leaves and dry twigs and put a match to it. One by one they fed the pictures into the rising flames, making absolutely certain that every fragment of prints and negatives was consumed. They even burned the manila envelope the pictures had been in. When it was finally done they gave a sigh of relief.

Suddenly Annabelle threw herself into his arms and kissed him, not passionately as before, but sweetly. "Thank you, Dan honey, for saving my life," she said sincerely.

He grinned. "I don't think your life was in danger, honey-chile, but if that stallion had got to you, I don't think your sweet little ass would ever be the same again."

She shuddered at the thought, and squeezed him.

"Hey," he said, gently taking her arms from around him. "We've got to be extra careful until we get that little monster out of camp. Say, that's right! We've got to cook up a way to blackmail him now so he'll get kicked out. What can we frame him with so C-C will expel him, and ship him home?"

An idea struck Annabelle and her lips curled in a wicked smile. "I think I might have just the trick," she drawled. "Fight fire with fire, and pictures with pictures. What is C-C most against, sugah?"

"He's against sin," Dan replied. "And though he's a damned old hypocrite, he pretends to be against sex."

"Right," she agreed. "Let's go back to camp. I've got something."

They drove back quickly. "Meet me in the main office," Annabelle said, as Dan pulled into the parking lot. She took off alone toward her cabin. Dan gave her a few minutes, then he followed, turning off to the main cabin.

Stein was still out with his special activity, probably a soccer game, so Dan sat down in the empty office and waited for Annabelle. She came in just a few minutes, carrying a large manila envelope.

"I'll never trust one of those envelopes again as long as I live," Dan said. "What's in that one?"

With the naughty smile lighting her face again, Annabelle pulled out two color photo magazines from Sweden. She handed them to Dan and he flicked them open.

"Holy mackerel!" he exclaimed. The pages were filled with beautiful detailed close-ups of fucking, sucking, sixty-nine, asshole banging, lesbians at work-the complete catalog.

"I'm an art collector, too," Annabelle said. "But these two I'll donate to a worthy cause. We'll give them to Mr. Stein to 'discover' in Pete's footlocker during an inspection. And since Pete's in the sick ward right now, this is an excellent time."

"Wait here," Dan said, jumping up. "I'll go get Stein."

When he came in, the stocky camp director got the whole situation in a few seconds. "I'll take it from here," he said tersely. "You kids have been great." A tight little grin appeared on his square face. "Say, you're not holding back some of those shots for your own blackmail purposes, are you?"

Annabelle shivered. "Not on your life, Mr. Stein. They're all burned to ashes."

Stein took the magazines from Annabelle and went over to Dan's cabin. When he came back, he sent Annabelle for the Coles, the older married counselors. They had not been involved in any of Pete Mordant's photography endeavors; they didn't even know anything about what was going on.

"Joe, Maisie," he said when they came into the office. "There have been a few complaints about some pretty raw stuff floating around the camp. I think we'd better pull a quick impromptu inspection. I want you two to go with me. Maisie, you can check the girls' lockers. Mr. Culpeper would be very upset about anything like this."

An hour later the trio of inspectors were back in the main office. Stein faked a very convincing headache, a result, no doubt, from his shock of seeing the lurid magazines found in the footlocker of little Pete Mordant. "Joe," he said weakly, "here's C-C's number in Hartford. Please give him a call and tell him what the deal is. I've got to go to the dispensary for some aspirin."

Late the next morning, about the time Pete Mordant was ambling from the infirmary to his cabin, still a trifle punchy from his all-night blackout from drugs, a sleek yacht-sized Lincoln Continental swept into the camp. It passed right by the parking lot and drove down to the main office. His handsome gray head practically flashing lightning bolts of wrath, C-C stepped out and entered the office. A few minutes later all the counselors were summoned for a hasty meeting.

"Young ladies, gentlemen," the camp owner began in his pulpit baritone, "I've summoned you for a painful duty. Painful, yes, but necessary. An awful situation has happened here in spite of our diligence, a vicious thing." He shook his head at the very thought of the horrendous thing that had occurred. "I have here,' he held up Annabelle's color magazines for a second, then thrust them hastily under his arm to conceal them, "the devil's own work, books of lewd sinful pictures. They were discovered by our conscientious director, Mr. Stein, in the footlocker of one, of our young campers. Yes, a very young camper. Sin, ladies and gentlemen, may start very early, even in the young."

Dan shot a quick glance at Stein, then quickly looked down at his feet to keep a straight face. He could just imagine how Marsha and the others were struggling to keep from laughing.

"Joe," C-C turned his stern face toward Cole, "will you please bring the young-ah-culprit here."

Joe left, returning in a very short time with the bug-eyed youngster. Pete rolled his projecting eyes around the gathering like a sand crab sizing up his surroundings. He had already made a quick check and found his pictures gone.

The little monster knows his game's up, Dan thought, but he couldn't help admiring the kid's cool. Pete stood looking up at the harsh face of the camp owner with complete composure.

"These obscenities were discovered in your footlocker, Mordant," said C-C, thrusting the magazine under the boy's nose, but keeping a tight clutch on them. "Do you deny that they are yours?"

Dan held his breath, as did all the others. If the kid kicked up a squawk now, the situation could still get a bit sticky.

But he didn't. He continued to look calmly up at the indignant man towering above him, and shrugged his shoulders slightly in assent.

"Then you're to pack up instantly. Do you hear? Instantly! I will take you back to the city myself and make a report of this to your father."

Obviously dismissed, the boy turned and trotted out of the building. Dan could just imagine him saying to himself, well, you can't win 'em all.

C-C turned and handed the magazines to Stein. "Jerry, I hate to thrust such an onerous task upon you, but take these things and see that they're burnt!" He swept the gathering with the glance of a conquering angel chasing sin out of Eden. "My thanks to all of you for so assiduously carrying out your duties, no matter how painful. And now I must go after this little wretch and get him out of the camp as quickly as possible," He stamped out the door,

The counselors still stood, darting quick, noncommittal looks at each other but saying nothing, In less than ten minutes they heard the doors of the Lincoln Continental slamming, and it roared majestically out of camp.