What to make of the look in those eyes staring at her across the shower room, though, she wondered? Was Roxanne baiting her, perhaps? Was the brazen display of her body a come-on to Pat? A tantalizing invitation that would be snatched away the moment she made a move to accept it? That seemed to be what the girl was doing, as she turned and twisted under the spray of water, showing Pat her body from every possible angle.
"Nothing doing, honey," she thought to herself, forcing her eyes away from the girl. "If I'm going to do something stupid, which I hope I'm not, it won't be you I'll make the first grab for!"
As though responding instinctively to the thought, her eyes darted across the room to where Mimsy Colberg was showering. A sharp, sudden, almost painful surge of emotion shot through Pat's stomach as she stared at the lush beauty of the little blonde's naked body. She, too, was turned full-front toward Pat, but she seemed completely oblivious to the fact of what her nudity was doing to her Big Sister. She rubbed the bar of soap slowly up and down her legs, gathering a handful of soapy suds which she hurriedly lathered against her cunt. The hair surrounding her pink-lipped hole was so fine and golden blonde in color that when it was dry, Pat thought, it was probably almost invisible. Even now, sopping wet, Mimsy's pubic bush was so pale-colored that she seemed as adolescent in development as the younger girls showering near her, whose tits had just begun to bud and whose cunts had no more than a wisp or two of fuzz surrounding them.
It was that little-girl quality about Mimsy's manner and her body that made her irresistible to Pat. There was something so fragile and perfect about her, something so innocent and untouched, that if they'd been alone in the shower at that moment Pat knew she wouldn't have been able to control herself from crossing the room, dropping to her knees in front of the girl and wrapping her arms tightly around her waist to pull her forward, and burying her face in the wet warmth of that luscious hole.
She felt her mouth growing dry with tension as she ran her eyes up and down Mimsy's body. The girl's breasts were on the small side, but Pat found that more exciting than if they'd been as big as her own or even Roxanne's. She liked to have sex with girls who were almost direct opposites in physical types from herself. Girls like Mimsy. Young… short… blond… small-breasted… without much hair between their legs. She felt her nipples starting to harden inside her blouse, pushing out with excitement as she imagined what it would be like making love to Mimsy Colberg.
The clatter of something dropped on the other side of the room startled Pat and her head whirled quickly around. In just that split-second before Roxanne turned her own head, Pat saw a smile flash across the girl's face and something in her eyes that left no doubt she'd seen her eyeing Mimsy's body.
"Damn her!" she thought angrily, and a bit scared, too. She knew she'd been unwise to make her desire so obvious and vowed not to let it happen again.
"It's only because I'm so horny that I'm being careless," she told herself. "As soon as I'm in June's arms again and know I'll have the whole summer ahead of us to make love, I won't even give another thought to Mimsy Colberg. Or to Roxanne Thomas," she added grimly.
CHAPTER TWO
June Halstead stretched her long, shapely legs lazily in under the cover of the sheet as she reached for a cigarette, struck a match, then let a stream of smoke curl slowly from her nostrils and up toward the ceiling of the little cabin she shared with Pat Fulton. The ashtray on the table between the two beds was already piled high with smoked-down cigarette butts and June knew she really shouldn't have another, but smoking seemed to be the only way to quiet the restless tingling running through her body. She always smoked heavily when she was nervous and that night she felt she had more cause than usual to be high-strung.
Her eyes darted impatiently toward the window of the cabin and she listened intently for the sound of approaching footsteps, but only the quiet of the mountain night with its chirping of crickets and distant croaking of frogs near the lake greeted her ears. How long was it going to take, she wondered, for Pat to get her group in their bunks and settled down for the night? It seemed to her that she'd already been waiting hours for her friend, although in actuality it was only a short while earlier that she'd got her own group of girls tucked in and quiet. Pat would be along in another few minutes, no doubt, and that thought sent a cold shiver running down the length of June's spine.
It had been six months since the two girls had seen one another last, at June's home in Boston during the Christmas vacation. Recalling what had happened between them during those few days, June's legs drew closer together and she felt a strange tingle ripple through her insides. Would Pat still feel the same way toward her, she wondered? Would she still want to make love, as they'd often done in the past?
As though seeing herself through her friend's eyes, June lifted away the sheet from her naked body and propped herself up on her elbows to study the shapely curves and swells of bare flesh. Her hand ran slowly over her breasts, squeezing and lifting them one at a time as she tried to recall if they'd grown any larger since Pat had seen them last. Although her tits were not as large as her friend's, they were shapely and firm, with nub-like pink nipples at the tips of the pear-shaped mounds. The skin on them felt smooth as silk as she stroked her fingers across her tits and drew them further down her body.
Her stomach was smooth and flat, without so much as an ounce of excess flab marring her figure. Her hips were a bit wider than she'd have liked, but she supposed it was necessary to support the rather large cheeks of her behind. In a tight-fitting skirt or pair of slacks, the side-to-side sway of her ass had been known to stop traffic in the college town where she spent most of the year. She was used to being whistled at and admired by strangers on the street. It made her feel good inside to know that her looks and her body were objects of other people's desire, even though few had ever possessed her.
Pat Fulton was one of the first to make love to June, and as the girl's hands strayed lower and wriggled through the silky bush of curly blonde hair surrounding her cunt, she felt another hot flash race through the pit of her belly as she recalled how wonderful it had been when her friend made love to her. She'd never known that so much pleasure could be had from so simple a thing as another girl's tongue fluttering in and out of her hole.
Her fingertip pressed through the hair guarding her slit, and she felt a tingle shoot up her cunt as she nudged the end of her finger into herself. By closing her eyes, she could almost imagine that it was Pat's hand touching her and warming her up before making love. She had always thrilled to the feel of the other girl's hand stroking and fondling her cunt. It felt so strange having someone else touch her down there, when for so many years only her own hand had enjoyed that right.
"Will she want to make love to me again this summer?" June wondered. The previous year, her first at the Summer Sisters Camp, Pat had proven insatiable in her sexual demands. Barely a night went by that she didn't creep across the short distance between their two beds and offer June pleasure through the skilled use of her hands or lips and tongue. The letters she'd written during the winter and early spring had been guarded and discreet in their references to physical lovemaking; June had insisted upon it when Pat asked if she could write to her at college, since she knew the danger of having someone snoop through her things and discover something they shouldn't. She wished now, though, that she knew just how Pat felt toward her. It would make things a lot easier, she thought, if she knew one way or the other.