She came around the left side of the bed and climbed in. Her cheeks and mouth were pink and freshly scrubbed. I chuckled to myself—she liked it messy all right. She scooted across and stretched out beside me. Her skin was warm where it touched mine, full of energy.
“You’re on my side,” she accused playfully.
“Yeah, sorry. It’s my side too.”
“It’s nothing, a contretemps.”
“Ooh, nice word.”
“I bring the lightning.”
“In more ways than one.”
“Mmm.”
She pulled the sheet over us before I could ask if she wanted me to stay. I didn’t want to take her for granted, but she seemed to be settling in, so I put my arm around her and rested my hand on her bare hip. She snuggled closer, slid her leg over mine, and caressed my chest.
“You normally sleep in the nude, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t, but I will for you,” she said. “In case you need access in the middle of the night. I don’t mind…”
“Good to know,” I chuckled.
“Mmm,” she sighed. “Sorry, talking about the past got me worked up. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I guess it’s the sense of adventure, you know? Something new. Oh, and the sex! Let’s not forget that! It was awesome, way better than I imagined.”
“Thanks. Same here.”
“You’re just being polite.”
I wasn’t, but it wasn’t worth an argument.
“I’m rusty,” she added. “Lack of practice. I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal, but… like… toys aren’t the same. Although they’re a lot easier to turn on!” she laughed, soft and self-deprecating.
I silently agreed and did my best to stifle a yawn. Unfortunately, Allie took it as a hint.
“What time is it?” She raised her head. “Oh, God, almost two. And we have to get up at six?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“I’m a night owl, not a morning person.”
“I could tell.”
“You weren’t complaining when I was sucking your dick.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Besides, doesn’t Christy wake you up in the middle of the night?”
“Sometimes. But she lets me sleep first.”
Allie shrugged. “I’m not her. I hope you’re okay with that.”
“Of course.”
She fell silent for a moment but then changed the subject. “So, how much will you tell her?”
“About tonight? Not much.”
“She doesn’t want to know?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“How kinky she thinks it is.”
“And this isn’t?” Allie laughed. “Sleeping with one of her friends?”
“No, sorry. I do that all the time.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess you do. Still, we have to think of something…”
I could think of several things, but I didn’t want to start a long conversation, and especially not at two o’clock in the morning.
“Well, you’re welcome to spend the night,” I said instead. “Tomorrow, I mean.”
“I was trying to figure out how to ask.” She sounded sheepish. “I mean, I feel like a kid in a candy store. But I… um… I don’t wanna overstay my welcome.”
I snorted to show what I thought of that.
“Thank you.” She slid her hand from my chest to my stomach. After a moment’s hesitation she moved to my penis.
I snorted again but kept it to myself. She thinks we’re twenty.
Speak for yourself, the little head grumped. I’m always ready to go. You’re the problem these days.
Yep. And I’m still in charge.
We’ll just see about that! He tried his best, but he couldn’t get the blood flowing. I even gave him a couple of minutes, just to be fair. Unfortunately, the big head was fighting a losing battle against sleep.
“I’m a greedy slut,” Allie said, an apology of sorts. “I need dick, like, every day.”
“I wish I could give it to you. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. You gave it to me earlier. Four times! I know you were hoping for five, but we got a late start.”
“We’ll start earlier tomorrow. And we have all day.”
“And all night! Do you think the girls’ll get suspicious?”
“They shouldn’t. We’ll use dance camp as an excuse. And you know how kids are; they’ll think we’re doing it for them.”
“Little do they know,” she chuckled suggestively.
“As long as we pretend we’re sleeping separately. Speaking of which… do you mind if I spend the night?”
“Oh, thank God! I thought you were going to leave or something.”
“No. I just didn’t want to assume…”
“No, stay,” she said immediately. “That’s probably the only thing I miss about being married, even though you stole my side. I should make you pay for it.” She kissed my chest and returned her hand to my manhood. She squeezed gently, a hint more than urgency. “We could wait a while and try again.”
“Thanks, but…” I patted her hip in consolation. “I can take care of you, though.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m just excited.”
“Me too, but I’ve been up since six thirty…” The phone call with Laurie seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Allie said. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“You should too.”
“I’ll try.”
I stretched and turned off the bedside light. Allie scooted away and started to roll over, but I moved with her.
“Is this okay?” I asked.
“God, yes. I just… I mean… you know. I don’t know the rules.”
“No rules. Just do what feels right.”
I spooned her from behind. I was used to Christy’s five foot nothing, but Allie still fit in the curve of my body. She sighed, and her breathing slowed.
“Mmm, this is nice.”
I rested my right hand on her hip, but she pulled it to her breast instead. I squeezed gently, and the little head made a last-ditch effort. I decided to humor him.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to…?”
“No, that’s okay,” Allie sighed, sleepy at last. “Just hold me. I miss that too.”
“Mmm.” Part of me was relieved, but the twenty-year-old wasn’t ready to give up.
Old man, he muttered.
Older and wiser, I said without a hint of regret.
Yeah, well… you’d better fuck her brains out.
Tomorrow, I agreed.
And the next day? And the next?
We’ll see. What’s so funny?
You, he said. Forty years old and I’m still leading you around.
I chuckled. If it ain’t broke…
* * *
The End
* * *
Read the next book in the series,
Don’t Fix It
About the Author
Hi, I’m Nick Scipio, the creator of the Summer Camp Swingers universe.
I started writing sex stories when I was a teenager, before I was legally old enough to read them. I wrote regular stories too, ones I could share with teachers, family, and friends, but I never stopped thinking about sex and all the “what if…?” scenarios.
Fortunately, I led a fairly adventurous life through my teens and early twenties, so I have plenty of personal experience to draw from. Many of the things in my books actually happened to me, although plenty of them are pure fantasy, the product of my overactive imagination.
I stopped writing in my twenties and into my thirties, especially while I was working nonstop at a small software company. The small company grew into a medium-sized one, which was bought by an even larger company. By then I was managing development teams and directing entire projects.
I eventually reached a point where I was happy with my software career, and I found that I wanted to start writing again. It wasn’t really a conscious decision—it was just something I did. It was an easy transition, because I’ve always been a storyteller. These days I simply have a larger audience than my friends or a group of people at a party.