She jostled Frank again, hard this time, and he awoke with a frown and a string of curses. He wanted to stay at Vera's cabin for the night, he told her. That did it. Soon they were embroiled in a big argument. Vera reminded him that two could play the game of blackmail. She told him if he didn't leave for town at once, and vow never to come back, she'd call his employer and report that he had made a pass at her. And then he'd lose his job, she pointed out. He turned red and ranted at her, but he knew she had him. His boss would have no reason not to believe the young troop leader of a bunch of Campfire Girls. He jammed his hat onto his head and drove off in a cloud of dust.
Good riddance, Vera thought. She let her mind run back to thoughts of black, sensual young Lynda – and, although a little guiltily, back to thoughts of the twelve year old who had just left. She believed she might find a way to keep from doing without love, even it might involve limiting herself strictly to females. But that was only because she had no way of knowing that Tim, a boyfriend of hers from the city, would appear on the scene before the outing was over. Nor, of course, did she have any idea what complications would result when he did show up. It had been a long, if physically gratifying, night. She showered and took one look across the clearing to the girls' dormitory cabin, then doused her light and went to bed.
But over in the girls' cabin, everyone was not quite so eager to go to sleep. Young Rosa had taken a shower and retired, it was true, but try as she might she couldn't go to sleep. She kept thinking about what had happened when she walked into her cubicle after coming from Miss Kressler's cabin. Dana and Claire were already in bed, but Lynda was still very much awake. They had finished looking at the pictures long before Rosa returned, but Claire and Dana hadn't noticed what Lynda had – that Rosa had stayed an awfully long time in Miss Kressler's cabin.
Because of what had happened between Lynda and her troop leader earlier that night, it was only natural that the black teenager notice when another girl from the troop should remain away for so long. When she looked out the window and saw Rosa coming out of Miss Kressler's cabin, her suspicions were confirmed. But Rosa had no idea about the very private meeting that had taken place between Lynda and Miss Kressler that night.
While she was taking a shower, Lynda had come into the bathroom and waited 'til all the other girls were gone. Then she started making jokes about where Rosa had been and why she had stayed so long. Rosa didn't know Lynda's remarks stemmed from a touch of jealousy, and that the black girl believed Rosa had been making love with Miss Kressler. And she was so embarrassed about what had happened – her forbidden activities with Frank, right in front of Miss Kressler – that she began to fear Lynda somehow knew about it.
At first her banter was vague and undirected, but soon it became much more specific. Rosa was standing with just a towel draped across her shoulders as she combed her hair. Her barely developed breasts were plainly visible to Lynda, whose larger mammaries were covered by a T-shirt. The older girl finished washing her hands and before leaving the room, walked past the young Mexican girl and whispered in her ear. "C'mon, girl," she said in a low voice, "we might as well admit it. We both got a secret with Miss Kressler. I sure didn't think you was old enough to get in on it, but you sure were over at her cabin a long, long time tonight."
When Rosa looked at her with honest puzzlement on her face, Lynda winked and said, "Come on, you don't have to put up a front for me, Rosa. I stayed over there a long time myself before you did. I was just thinking maybe you and me could have a little get-together sometime without Miss Kressler, since we've both had one with her. You dig?"
Lynda had walked away, leaving Rosa alone. Was it any wonder that she had a hundred questions running through her head as she tried to go to sleep?
CHAPTER THREE
Lynda didn't go immediately to sleep that night either, but not because her mind was occupied. It was more because her hand was occupied – with performing certain secret movements under the covers of her bed. Each girl was given a separate cubicle, so things were fairly private. But things had to be very private indeed for what Lynda was doing to herself. It wouldn't do for the girl in the next cubicle to hear Lynda's bed making rhythmic little squeaking noises, so she had to be very quiet and methodical about it.
First she loosened the drawstring of her pajamas and slipped her hand in the front. She wasn't wearing panties, so it was easy for her to slide her fingers directly to her object. Then she touched herself ever so delicately there, letting the tips of her long fingers graze teasingly through the dense forest of curls that sprang up from the pouting hillock between her slender thighs. She listened intently until she was sure the girl in the next cubicle was fast asleep. Only then did she allow herself the pleasure of moving her fingers deeper into the curly muff and touch the moist, sensitive skin beneath. As she did so, she thought of the things she had been introduced to by Miss Kressler. The things involving their mouths.
She sighed and burrowed her wiry black hair into the pillow as she strained her slim thighs together. What a great feeling it had been to have the pretty blonde woman's soft lips on her secret slit! As she thought of how nice it had been to have Miss Kressler do it, she traced her fingertips along the damp fullness of her nether lips and pressed her legs tighter together. The smooth, round joints of her knees rubbed together as smoothly as graphite and the lovely softness of her inner thighs was soon damp from being so tightly pressed together.
She smiled to herself in the dark. At fifteen, she'd never known before about how groovy one girl could make another one feel until Miss Kressler had unexpectedly demonstrated it to her. Her thoughts turned to the other girls at camp as she continued to toy with herself between the legs. She wondered whether young Rosa had already been doing things with other girls, or whether Miss Kressler had initiated her into the secret as with herself. There was no question in her mind but that the young Mexican girl had stayed so long in Miss Kressler's cabin for the same reason she had done. And although Lynda was wrong in thinking so, it was still a very exciting picture for her to conjure up. She pictured the blonde nakedness of Miss Kressler beside the naked olive-complexioned body of the Mexican twelve year old, and increased the motion of her fingers in the soft crevice of her genitals.
If the younger girl had been cute enough to attract the beautiful Miss Kressler, she reasoned, then Rosa was undoubtedly worth trying to do the same thing with for her pleasure. She'd have to talk to her as soon as she could get her alone, since she hadn't responded too well to her broad hint in the bathroom. She was probably just scared of having anyone else find out, decided Lynda, and she could hardly blame her. Jeez, here she was being sneaky just to keep anyone from knowing she was playing with herself – and it would be much worse than that to be caught playing with another girl.
She heard one of the girls close by cough in her sleep and for a second she stopped her hand's motion. But as soon as she saw what it was she went right back to her tricks and jammed her hand inside the pajama bottom again. She pushed her fingers to the soft depression of her moist genitals and once more caressed the silky folds of her damp lower lips. Lynda wasn't new at masturbating any more than most girls are at the age of fifteen. But what was new to her was the exciting experience she had undergone with Vera. The idea of making love to another person of the same sex became increasingly stimulating the more she thought about it. And the special thrill she always liked to remember was how it felt to have her organs mouthed by another female. She'd had no one besides Miss Kressler before nor since, but since that night she'd certainly thought about how it might be with some of the other girls. She lay in bed imagining how it would be to have someone like Rosa or Claire or Dana do what Miss Kressler had done to her and became hotter by the minute. Finally she had herself worked up to a fever pitch and had to bury her face in the pillow to keep from being overheard as she whimpered during her climax. That night it seemed that her dreams were as full of sex as her day had been.