Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
When I was 17 I was a counselor at a camp. I had a 25 year old co-counselor who was super butch; she did ask me to spoon for warmth one night but nothing happened between us, so sometimes I go back and wonder, “what if…”
I initially wanted to go off on a crazy fantasy and work with the double entendre in “head counselor”, but it felt too forced. This one is pretty low-key, based around consent and mutual attraction between an 18 year old and a 25 year old. If that’s your thing, enjoy.
*****
I stared at the bare, empty bed I’d been assigned to. I couldn’t believe I was a counselor. I felt capable, sure, but at 17 I also felt incredibly young. People were going to trust me with their children? Their 15 year old daughters? And I was working with a counselor who had never done a canoe trip before?
As I set up my sheets and folded my clothes, I heard the crude screen door to the cabin creak open. “Hello?” a low voice called.
“Hello?” I called back as I stood up. I walked around the bookcase by the door to see who my new head counselor was, the woman I’d be reporting to over the next three weeks.
Short bleached hair, men’s basketball shorts, and a plain white t-shirt had walked in the door. She was not tall, but she hefty: she casually carryied two suitcases, a backpack, and a duffel bag, and hadn’t even broken a sweat. “Sup!” She dropped a suitcase and held out her right hand to shake mine. “I’m Pat.”
“Marissa,” I said, returning her firm handshake.
She looked me up and down and smiled. “Alright.”
I didn’t know if she was smiling in approval or if she was just being friendly. I mean I was still an awkward teenager, but my growing boobs filled a c-cup and my summer running had rewarded me with an athletic physique. But in my naivete, I figured that with no boy counselors around nobody would be checking out my body. In loose shorts, tank tops, and sports bras all summer, I was hardly showing off for anyone.
Pat had walked past me and into the corner bedroom, which as head counselor she had all to herself, and immediately set up speakers to blast her music. We had an hour before activities started, so I switched out my comfortable sports bra for a runner’s bra, laced up my new sneakers, reset my timer and headed out the door.
The hot sun beat down on me as I headed for the path around the lake. As I heated up, the wind in my face, I found myself wondering who Pat dated. I was crazy hormonal but didn’t like any of the guys in my high school; did Pat feel the same way? I bet she had an even butcher husband somewhere, who wrapped his huge arms around her bulky form; maybe they chopped wood side by side and he admired her independence. She had to be surrounded by love, to be as unapologetically herself as she was.
(I’m letting you all know this because I was deeply in denial about non-straight sexuality. How naive I was.)
When I got back, dripping wet with sweat, the music was still blasting and Pat had just come out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her, falling open where the ends didn’t quite meet at one end. I tried not to stare at her ample exposed hip, which had some kind of celtic knot tattoo on it. Her discarded luggage was vaguely stacked in one corner and her clothes were in one giant pile on her bed.
“Oh, hey there!” she said as she saw me walk by. “It’s hot out there, huh? You can hang your shirt on that rack over there.”
I looked at where she was pointing at the row of hooks nailed onto the wall by the bathroom, and then I looked down at my sweat-soaked shirt. I quickly peeled it off to expose my flat stomach, shiny with sweat. “Thanks,” I panted; as I grabbed my towel and headed toward the shower, I could have sworn her eyes were glued to me as I turned and walked away. The thought made me excited: I didn’t know why. I wondered if she was jealous of my toned body, while hers was all solid functional bulk. I thought of how soft she’d be to hug, and also how easy it would be for her to pin me down with her strong arms…
By the time I was done with my extra-long extra-cold shower, Pat was gone to join the other counselors at orientation; I dressed as quickly as I could and ran over, hair (and pussy) dripping wet.
———————————
Over the previous 4 days our cabin had filled up with life. Pat and I had 10 campers, all of them badass energetic girls with an unfortunate mischievous streak. I loved each and every one of them for their uninhibited youthful energy. I’d steal a tub of snacks for them from the dining hall and talk with them about all the problems of adolescence; Pat scared their pants off with ghost stories and kept the cabin filled with music. The days flew by as Pat and I got to know each other as peers, and I realized that the 2-3 years distance between myself and my campers was much greater than the 8 years between Pat and I.
And now we were at a campsite on the other side of the lake, on a week-long canoe trip. I had experience canoeing; Pat did not. The first day found us bailing out her canoe, and then iskenderun escort building a fire to dry out the clothes that she and her boatmate had been wearing that day.
“Those fuu-dging big-ass cargo shorts are never gonna dry,” I told Pat after checking on the progress of the hanging laundry.
“Language!!” Pat snapped back. “How do you feel about marinated chicken breasts for dinner?”
“YEEAAAAA!” the campers cheered.
“Good,” Pat said, turning to me. “Because it’s that or fuUU-dging bagels for the next 6 nights.”
“Right,” I said. “Because now we’re only eating bagels for 5 nights.” A couple campers had come up to me with their blistered hands and feet; I rooted around the camp gear for the first aid kit.
“Pat?” one of the campers came up to her. “I’m cold.”
“Aww come here sweetie,” Pat wrapped her big arms around her and rubbed and rubbed her back and arms until she was warm again. “Do you need more clothing? I have an extra jacket. Marissa, grab the jacket from my tent.”
I put down the first aid kit and the blistered toe I was popping, found the jacket, and handed it to Pat, who then wrapped it around the camper and sent her off to finish setting up her tent. Pat wasn’t one for coddling, but she always knew how to take care of those around her. It was… fucking adorable is what it was. I smiled as I set about mending minor injuries; my heart raced a little as our eyes met momentarily. Could I be into her? Could she be into me?
I shook the thoughts out of my head.
“Is this your first time being a counselor?” Jackie, my blister-ridden camper, asked.
“Of course, I was too young last year.”
“You don’t look that young.”
I laughed. At my age I took it was a complement.
“Well I am.”
“How old are you?”
I hadn’t told anyone yet, but she’d asked me so I couldn’t lie. “Well… I was 17 yesterday, but my birthday is today, so I guess I’m 18 now. Do you still think I’m old?”
“Yes! Wait, it’s your birthday??” Jackie had said it loud enough for a few campers and Pat to hear. “Oh my god happy birthday!! Hey everyone it’s Marissa’s 18th birthday!!” a few others chimed in. They proceeded to sing an incredibly endearing off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday”.
“Blow the candles out!”
“We have no candles!”
“Blow the fire out!” Everyone laughed.
Pat came to sit next to me by the camp fire where I was still doling out bandaids and ibuprofen. As she started cooking the food, I was hyper aware when her leg brushed mine; when she put her hand on the center of my back; when she ruffled my hair at something I said. Sometimes her fingers would lightly brush my thigh as she was reaching for something. I found myself giving in more and more, craving the small morsels of affection she was leaving for me all night. It was all subtle, well within the bounds of platonic friendship; but for some reason it felt very different.
The chicken dinner was amazing, served with corn bread and canned peas. Though our bellies were already full and warm, Pat surprised us with dessert: brownies, to be baked in the fire inside orange peels wrapped in tinfoil. As she handed mine, she put her hand on my shoulder; it seemed electric, and her touch made my body tingle. “Happy birthday, you grownup.” She winked. I melted.
Once the fire died down, the unseasonably cold July air seeped through our insufficient layers; Pat and I cleaned up the group gear and then dashed into the tent.
“Fuck, why didn’t I stay in South Carolina for the summer? This Maine weather is bullshit.” Pat’s teeth chattered as she crawled shivering into her sleeping bag.
“Yeah, it’s brutal,” I agreed, settling into my own bag.
“Hey why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday? I would have gotten you cigarettes or porn or something.”
I laughed. “I can get my own as of today, but uh thanks anyways.”
We talked a bit longer and then said good night, rolling ourselves up tight in the sleeping bags hoping they’d finally trap the warmth close to our bodies.
About 45 minutes later, the temperature had dropped even more; my breath was visible in the tent. The cold hadn’t dissipated as my body warmed the air in my sleeping bag; instead the cold had moved through to my bones. I tried not to shiver but involuntarily started shaking silently. Next to me, I heard more teeth chattering.
“Hey Pat, are you cold?”
“D-d-d-d-afuq do you think-k-k?”
“Want me to get the jacket back from Lucy?”
“Nah.” She paused for about 10 seconds, as if considering it. “Hey… would it be weird if we spooned? For warmth? That would help, right?”
The thought of it made me giddy. I couldn’t think of anything that would feel nicer right now than to be close to her body, sharing her warmth, having her strong arms around me… “Oh what the hell, we’re all adults here.”
She started scooting closer, and I came up with an idea. “Here, I’ll unzip my sleeping bag and you unzip yours and we’ll velcro ’em together so diyarbakır escort we can like share heat. Does that make sense?”
Pat nodded, unzipping her zipper, her teeth chattering the whole time. I unzipped mine, then turned my back toward her and scooted backwards til I felt her warmth pressed up against my back. As we relaxed into it, I lay there in disbelief at how amazing it felt to be so close to her. As if reading my mind, she reached her arm over me, inside our sleeping bags, and wrapped it around my torso, pulling me in closer. We lay there for a little while, shivering, as I thought of another solution.
“I’m just gonna stick my feet inside your sleeping bag. Do you care?”
“Y-y-y-yea do d-d-d-d-d-that.”
I felt her shivering gradually subside, and as we warmed up I became more aware of other feelings. I felt her breath on the side of my neck, her broad shoulders enveloping me. Her masculinity had almost made me forget that she had tits too; but now as we lay close I could feel their softness pressed up against my back. I started to feel a tingling between my legs, and a bit of wetness leak out of the folds of my pussy, inches away from her. I had no idea what was happening; I’d never so much as kissed someone, let alone had sex. Why was I thinking about sex with Pat? She was a woman, all my friends were straight, I was definitely straight. I was! Wasn’t I? What was wrong with me?
I was brought back into the moment by her warm hand rubbing my arm. “Is this okay?” she asked.
Embarrassed by where my thoughts were going, I let out a breathy “Yeah.” Then something occurred to me (finally!). “Hey, Pat?” I asked tentatively.
“What’s up?”
“Do you have a um, a boyfriend… or a husband or something?”
A pause. Then she burst out laughing so loud I jumped. “What??” I asked, annoyed.
“Girl, I’m lesbian as fuck. I figured like, EVERYONE knows as soon as they see me.”
“Ha. Not our driver. He thought you were a dude.” We laughed, remembering the awkwardness of the situation.
“Why do you give a shit anyway?”
“What, that you’re gay? I don’t. Just… wondering.” I didn’t tell her I might be, but I thought about it… I thought about the moment I had with my best friend in 5th grade where I kissed her on the cheek and started wondering about my own sexuality. I’d repressed it so hard I had barely remembered the incident, but here it was coming up again…
“What about you?” Pat asked, breaking my reminiscence. “Do you have your own high school *sweetheart* loverboy?” She started making kissy noises in my ear.
“Ew!” I nudged her away with my shoulder; she pulled me back in with her arm. “Nah, boys are stupid.” I realized as soon as I said it that it must have sounded naive and childish, but I couldn’t take it back; it was how I felt.
I felt her body shift slightly against mine as her breathing grew deeper. Acting on instinct, I took her hand in mine and interlaced my fingers with hers. To my excitement, in response I felt her thumb begin gently stroking mine, tracing circles over my knuckle. My heart was beating fast at this point, and I heard her breathing quicken in my ear. We had crossed from innocent spooning into romance territory; the almost imperceptible shift registering in both our bodies as we lay there absorbed in the gentle movements of fingers against fingers, and the undulations of body against body.
Oh my god. I’d never felt this way before. I had assumed I’d been craving a boy’s touch all these years, afraid that I’d never find one I liked enough to let into my life. I once briefly spooned at a beach party with Mark Stephanopolous, but as he tried to kiss me I excused myself to use the bathroom. One time our track team played a hybrid wrestling-tag game, and Andy Schultz had held me down a little longer than I was comfortable with, and I again excused myself to go home.
But this, here, I never wanted to move from. I shifted my body, settling into her curves. Pat then un-laced her fingers from mine, and started stroking my stomach. I sighed audibly; in response, she moved her hand downward to find the hem of my shirt and sweatshirt, and then began slowly sliding her warm hand up my cold stomach. It felt amazing. Suddenly it stopped moving.
“Marissa,” Pat said. “Please let me know if anything is not okay, okay? Tell me when to stop and I’ll stop.”
I smiled. “You’re so caring. I like that.”
“It’s just that I’m older, I’m your head counselor, I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you. Have you ever… been with anyone?”
I sighed. “No… but don’t you forget, I’m an adult now.”
“Barely. Who was afraid of the dark that night when our cabin lights went out?”
“That was the old me, the new me is only scared of spiders.” She used her hand to crawl up my stomach like a spider; I laughed and clamped down on her hand to squish her spider. “Pat, I’m serious though; don’t think I don’t know what I want. I like it when you press against me. I like it when you wrap your arms arsuz escort around me. I like it when you touch me.”
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.”
The hand started moving again; after she’d sufficiently warmed my stomach, she started moving upwards slowly, until she finally reached the bottom of my round breast. As her fingers began gently working the area where my torso met the fullness of my tit, I sighed again.
“I’ve been wanting to feel your perky tits since you came back all sweaty from that run.”
“I’ve wanted you to touch my tits since you walked in carrying all that luggage.”
“Mmm, so you like strong women?” The fingers drifted up over the mound of my breast, massaging and stroking the soft youthful skin.
“Evidently-” I drew a sharp breath. I’d tried to say more, but at that moment she’d pinched my nipple, sending waves of sensation throughout my body. My pussy was dripping wet and throbbing with excitement as she rolled my nipple between her thumb and index finger.
She gently started kissing my neck as I moaned as silently as I could, her lips and tongue working the sensitive skin between my ear and my shoulder. Then she rolled me onto my back, kissing the front of my neck, my collar bone, moving her fingers over to play with my other nipple.
I let out a moan that was a touch too loud. The camper tents were farther away, but not that far. “Shhhh…” She clamped her other hand over my mouth, then replaced her hand with her mouth. Who knew kissing was this amazing?! She started softly, kissing me gently, but as she felt me push back at her she kissed harder, biting my lip, moving her tongue over mine, opening up my world without so much as a single word. My body was giving into her fully.
She moved her hand back down, and as soon as it left my breasts I longed for it to come back. I reached over and tried to pull it back toward my tits, but she had other plans. She slowly worked her hand down, but, because she thought I had been resisting, paused above the waistband of my pants. “Do you want me to touch you?”
I didn’t know what it entailed, so I didn’t know what to expect. I paused for a second.
“I want to make you feel good, but tell me if you’re not okay.”
The intensity of my desire made it hard to talk; I looked at her lustily, and nodded my head vigorously. To emphasize my intent, I reached for that hand again, this time pushing it downward.
She smiled at me cockily as she worked her fingers downward, into the waistband of my sweatpants and over my soaked panties. As her finger reached my slit, she stopped watching my face and started kissing me again.
I wrapped my arms around her neck and kissed back, not being able to contain my enthusiasm.
Her fingers began exploring my slit through the crotch of my underwear, running over my swollen clit sending shivers up my body. I’d masturbated before; but this was real. It was fucking incredible.
She drew her hand back upwards, teasing me at the waistband of my underwear, and then began working her fingers down under the fabric, against my skin. I started moving my hips, begging for her to touch me. I didn’t know what came over me; my body was not my own. My body was all hers. I hadn’t let anyone so much as plant a kiss on my lips but here I was, full of lust for this woman. Finally her fingers contacted my dripping wet slit and drew the moisture upwards, gliding over my throbbing clit. “Mmm,” she said. “This is what I like.”
Despite all my efforts to hold back, I let out a really light whimper of pleasure. She moved her fingers in circles on my clit as I moved my legs as far apart as they could go in the confinement of the sleeping bag.
“Oh, god, Pat,” I moaned; it came out muffled, as I spoke the words into her mouth.
She drew her mouth away to look at my face, her eyes concentrating on mine as if to try and read my thoughts. “I’m not gonna fuck you.”
I didn’t know what that would feel like, to be fucked; I couldn’t imagine anything better than what we were doing right at that moment. But as soon as I started imagining her sticking her fingers inside me, I felt the void in me longing to be filled by her; it was cavernous, gaping, uncomfortable. I wanted her to fill it. I didn’t care if I was a virgin. We’d already passed the point of no return; I wanted all of it right now, no matter the consequences.
“…Maybe just a little bit?”
She seemed concerned, but then her look of concentration melted into a cocky smile. “Eager, are we? No, I think I’ll wait on that one. I can’t show you all my tricks right now, can I?”
I bit my lip and smiled, as I pulled her in for another deep kiss. Neither of us was cold anymore… She started moving her fingers over my clit faster and faster; then slowed down and drew her fingers out. She stopped kissing me, looking down at me as she took her moistened fingers and licked my juices off them. Curious, I took her hand and drew her fingers into my mouth to taste my own savory-sweet taste. I looked up at her; she gently put her hand on my face and bent in for another kiss. She then used that arm to coax my leg out of the shared space of our sleeping bags; still constrained, she took one of her legs out. I felt the cold night air on my bare foot, but at this point it was a relief from all the heat. Pat was even a little damp with sweat.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32