Carla's breath was coming in short gasps as she searched in the warm hidden folds of her virginal cunt. With a tiny moan, she found the throbbing hardened tip of her clitoris, and began to stroke the erotic button. Shivers of ecstasy raced through her as she caressed the tiny fleece hidden bud. Her eyes dimmed and she could only make out the blur of Iris and John as they jerked against each other. Through the mist of her eyes, she could see Iris thrust her pelvis up, arching her back and raising both their bodies up off the bed. Every muscle and cord was tensed in her supple body as she rose to meet John's insurge. John was perspiring freely now and his breathing became a series of heavy pants.
A warm flush enveloped Carla's young body as she stroked her awakened clitoris in time to John's rhythmic sawing, and her other hand freely manipulated her breasts through the material of her dress. Rivulets of perspiration ran down her inner thighs, and she felt damp patches on her miniskirt. She could barely control the countless mewls which were escaping from her throat. Suddenly, angered by the impeding material of her dress, she bunched it up around her waist, and reluctantly removing her hand from her aching breasts, held it there. Impatiently, she eased the wet panties down over her slender hips, until they fell to just above her knees. All caution left her — nothing mattered but the fiery tingling deep in her young loins.
Tentatively, she tested the tight resisting ring of her cunt with her middle finger. The tender flesh felt moist and elastic under her touch and she pushed gently at the unwilling entrance. She winced from the pain as she probed the fleshy petallike opening, and slowly, she insinuated the tip inside the warm, wet little hole.
Chills and shivers ran up and down her back like icy fingers, raising goose bumps all over her, which created a tingle over her entire body, and contrasted almost painfully with the warmth of her skin.
The cries from the bedroom were now more strangled and more intense and suddenly, Carla could stand it no longer! With a deep-throated grunt, she rammed her entire finger up into the virginal orifice between her legs. Gasping from the novel contact, she rotated her finger harder up inside the steaming sheath. She felt the warm walls of her pussy close in on her finger and sighed as her rummaging sent new spasms of joy shooting through her. Then, she inserted another finger, and then another, until all three were stretching around in her secret depths. The fire was quenched at last, but a new, more searing sensation took its place — growing hunger reared up and threatened to overpower her. Desperately, she finger fucked herself and tears of frustration came to her eyes as she realized that they were not enough — she needed more inside her. Greedily, she stared at the huge fleshy pole which was tearing into Iris' cunt, and anger welled up in her. She wanted that cock inside her, that's why the ache would not go away; she wished, oh, how she wished that it was she who was twisting and flailing nakedly wider the man's rod!
Closing her eyes, Carla tried to imagine what it would be like to have him fucking her — to feel his weight rocking above her. But all she could feel was the inadequacy of her own fingers, and she moaned softly outside their bedroom window. She could feel the waves of heat gathering momentum inside her. She was out of control now. She didn't know what was happening and she didn't care. She opened her eyes again, and fastened them once more on the monster cock plowing into Iris. She saw her cunt cling hungrily to its width as it withdrew, the delicate pink hair-fringed edges pulling out with it, unwilling to let it go, even for a moment.
Again, she closed her eyes, thinking only of John's engorged cock, sawing in and out, his balls pounding against her anus, his fingers digging into the flesh of her buttocks, her arms locked around his neck, her legs hanging over his shoulders, her naked vagina, upraised and defenseless before his ceaseless surging…
"Aaaaaaggggghhhhh! Oh, God, I'm ccuummiiinnnggg!"
Carla's eyes flew open. The unearthly shriek had come from the bedroom. She saw Iris bucking and jerking like a wild woman, her head flailing from side to side, her mouth wide open, her eyes rolling. Another groan pierced the twilight stillness — this time a low, male groan and then she saw John lurching uncontrollably into Iris as spasm after spasm overtook him, his testicles jerking as they pumped their hot, scalding sperm deep up into her belly.
Something was happening to her, too. The heat was a furnace now and cloud after cloud of it swept through her. Her hips were jerking strangely, and she felt as if she were drifting… her head spun around, and involuntarily her fingers dug deeper and deeper into her. And then the head cloud burst, raining sparks on her. She heard a mewling — was it herself? — and she felt a warm wetness on her fingers and running down her inner thighs. It felt so good — she wanted this new feeling to go on forever. Finally, it stopped, and a strange peace took over. Her body still quivered and she opened her eyes. It was quite dark now — as if it had turned dark suddenly when her eyes were closed. She looked into the room. John was lying over Iris, whose legs were still spread. They seemed to be asleep. Carla could see a thin stream of sticky white liquid seeping out from between Mrs. Harrault's legs, and there was a look of utter tranquility on her face.
Carla smoothed down her dress and pulled up her panties. Hardly daring to breathe, she crept back towards the dormitory building. She felt different — more knowledgeable, more grownup. She knew she would never be the same again, but she didn't care.
Maybe camp won't be so bad this year after all, she smiled to herself as she let herself quietly into the dormitory.
Chapter Two
It was a scorching hot day and Endwood Camp was still. It was Saturday — the "Do Your Own Thing" day at the camp. The girls were all in the nearby village, with the exception of Carla, who was swimming.
The camp was dedicated to providing as free an environment as possible, and the girls' days were virtually unstructured. Of course, riding instruction was available from Iris, who was an excellent horsewoman, and swimming was taught by John, who had been a college 100-meter champion.
A woman from the village came every day to cook and clean, and she left every evening at six. There was a good library in the lounge, plus television and records. Occasionally, Iris or John organized nature walks, which were popular, or they all played tennis or handball on the lawn. But the favorite pastimes were swimming and riding.
There were six permanent horses at the camp — all mares, all part Arabian. There was one other horse, Conquest, a stallion, which belonged to Iris, and no one else ever rode him. He was completely Arabian, and only stood fifteen hands. But he was the joy of Iris' life, and this morning, she happily lead him in from the pasture. John didn't want to ride with her, so she decided not to saddle Conquest. She put on a simple snaffle bridle, and set off towards the woods.
It was much cooler in the shade, and Conquest trotted briskly along, interested, as usual, in everything. Iris wore only her swimsuit, a blue two-piece, and was glad she did, because even in the forest it was still warm.
A sense of well-being pervaded her — she always felt that way after a night of lovemaking with John. She thought it was worth it, sometimes, to be without John for a week. Homecoming was so good!
Iris breathed in the cool redolent air of the forest. Everywhere, life was bursting out. Birds sang in the treetops and flew back and forth. Chipmunks chattered on the ground, scurrying for nuts. The edges of the bridle path were dotted with clumps of daisies and milkweed, and Iris could see here and there the brilliant blue of early gentians nestling among their leaves. Deep in the forest as far as the eye could see, the peach-colored leaves of the swamp roses brightened the many shades of green.