Message-ID: <29900asstr$987505803@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: Erin.Halfelven@lsnewsr1.we.mediaone.net (joyce@qnez.com) X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2001 21:58:48 PDT Subject: {ASSM} Private Weather [ f-mast voy ] Date: Tue, 17 Apr 2001 07:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, english, gill-bates Copyright 1998, 2000, 2001 by Erin Halfelven. All Rights Reserved. ---------------------- Private Weather by Erin Halfelven I was twelve. The family went on a camping trip to a county campground by a lake with my Mom's sisters and some other families. Girl cousins near my age had not come along as I had thought they would. The first morning, all the guys went fishing. I hate fishing, so after breakfast, I went back to bed in the little camper shell my dad had built. Mom and the other ladies bustled around the camp gossiping about people who weren't there. I stayed in our camper. I was feeling weird, my nipples had recently become very sensitive and Mom had told me I would probably soon start bleeding. I wished Betty or Paula were there, girl cousins my age, we might have talked about it. But Paula's family had not come and Betty had stayed behind with friends. I felt alone. We had recently moved after living for three years on the edge of the desert. We had moved closer to town. I had switched schools in the middle of the second semester of the seventh grade. I knew a few kids in the new school -- I'd gone to school with some of them in the first to fourth grade when we had lived in town. I felt alone and different. I napped a little and woke up with one hand inside my panties and the other across my chest. Playing with my nipples and pussy felt good so I did some of that in the darkened camper. I got more excited the more I did it. It just kept feeling better and better. I'd done this before but it hadn't felt like this. I didn't want to stop. Something felt different in my pussy, warm and damp and a little hard spot near the top I didn't remember noticing before. I'd been warned about playing with myself. I wondered if I'd damaged something so I kept investigating. The wetness smelled interesting, very interesting. I wanted to taste it but thought that was too disgusting. My excitement made my fingers move faster and faster. I was lying there with just my panties around my thighs. My titties had a little shape to them because I was chubby but the training bra I wasn't wearing still had the padding in it. I kept rubbing one hand across my chest, making the hard little nipples send shivers up my neck and down my back while my fingers moved faster and faster. I must have made some noise because Mom said, "If you're awake in there, get up. We want you to walk down to the store and bring back some things." I froze, almost aching with the desire to continue. I knew if I said I was sick, Mom would come to see about me. I'd gone back to bed after breakfast when I found out all the guys were going fishing, even my little brother, only four years old. Other young cousins and the children of my parents' friends whooped and hollered under the trees. I knew if I got up I'd be assigned the task of watching the little ones as soon as someone thought of it. This was late May, my thirteenth birthday was less than three months away. I wanted to stay a kid a little while longer but I knew what I was experiencing was part of what it meant to be a grown- up. "I'm getting up," I said. "I have to go to the bathroom." I gave myself a few more quick strokes. The light of the sun seemed about to break in through the walls of the home-made camper shell. Whispering to myself warnings about getting caught doing what I was doing, I pulled my panties up and pulled on jeans over them. The jeans had gotten very tight in the last few months or so because my butt had gotten bigger. When I zipped them up, my pussy was pressed firmly against the seam in my crotch. I liked that feeling. I pulled the jeans higher on my waist so they felt even tighter then I added a belt even though I really didn't need one. I wanted to keep the jeans riding high and the belt pulled the top of them up to my waist, increasing the pressure on my pussy. I shivered a little, pressing my thighs together and moving my hips slowly in a circular motion. I picked the loosest blouse I'd brought with me. A stiff cotton broadcloth that I knew would rub against my nipples every time I moved. That sounded good right then, so I didn't put on the little padded bra. I took a washcloth, a towel, clean panties, a roll of toilet paper and my hairbrush and nonchalantly climbed out of the pickup bed. I stuck my feet into flip-flop sandals and walked past the ladies talking about people who weren't there. The sun seemed so bright it made a roaring noise in my ears. Every movement excited me. The tightened jeans pressed on my pussy, the rough shirt sawed on my nipples. I felt my breath catch in my throat when my Mom spoke to me. "Hurry up. We need milk and bread and eggs and butter. Are you going to take a bath? You had one last night." I thought they would surely know everything if I used my voice but I turned back to Mom and said, "No, just a spit bath and I need to pee." She nodded and I trudged on toward the bathroom. With every step the seam of my jeans worked its way further into me. The sun roared and the wind sighed in the trees. The rough cotton against my little titties made me realize that they actually jiggled when I walked. I stiffened my ankles to increase the effect. A woman walked into the bathroom ahead of me. Someone from another nearby camp. I didn't know her but the roundness of her ass in her brown pedal-pushers seemed to increase the feelings in my groin and chest. She was a bit heavy and her ass bounced a bit with each step. She had a towel and soap and shampoo. She went into the shower room unbuttoning her blouse as she went. She closed the door and I went into a toilet stall. I stood there for a moment. I squeezed my thighs together. I rubbed my breasts through the blouse. I tried to press the seam of my jeans against the little nubbin I had found earlier. I banged my elbows against the sides of the stall as little explosions ripped through me and my breath came in ragged gasps. I really had to pee. I used toilet paper to cover the black plastic seat. I undid the belt and pulled my jeans down. Peeing was a relief. I lingered about cleaning myself. The rough paper sent little jolts through me when I wiped dampness off my pussy. I felt the little hairs I had recently grown there and I knew they meant I was growing up. I took the old, nearly theadbare washcloth and rolled it into a tight little bundle. I put it inside my panties, against my twat. The rough texture made me want to squeal. I pulled the panties tight, holding the little roll of terrycloth against me through the soft white cotton. I pulled my jeans up. Then I folded the clean panties into a little rectangle and pushed this down into my crotch between the panties I already wore and the jeans. I thought the padding would conceal the little roll of the terrycloth. I pulled the jeans up, tight, to my waist. It took some adjusting to get the little roll and the extra padding just right. I zipped the jeans, forcing the rough terrycloth against me, almost into my cunt. The extra padding definitely increased the feeling. I pulled the jeans up, tightened the belt, pulled them up and tightened it again. I used the last notch on the belt; it felt like it would cut me in two. I wished I had a wide belt like my father used. I stuck the towel up under my blouse and rubbed my breasts with its roughness. I squeezed my thighs together, pressing my twat against the roll I had concealed in my jeans. My knees locked. A really big bubble seemed to swell up inside me and burst, again and again. The white many-times-painted-and-re-painted wall of the stall felt cool against my forehead and my arms as I leaned against it. I recovered enough of my composure to consider whether I should remove the little roll of washcloth and the padding. What if somebody could see it? I bumped my head on the stall walls trying to get a good look at my own crotch. Someone else came into the bathroom. That decided me. I flushed the toilet, folded the towel around my soap and hairbrush and stepped out of the stall. Goosebumps chased each other down my arms and up my back. The woman who had just entered opened the door to the shower stall, saw that it was occupied, apologized and closed the door. I thought that was pretty dumb and rude, with the sounds of water running she ought to have known the shower was in use. Maybe she thought some dumb kid had left the water running. She saw my towel. "Oh, are you next?" she asked. I nodded. "Well, I guess I'll come back later then." She took her roll of shower things and left. I walked carefully to the sinks. I washed my hands and face, drying them with the towel I had rubbed against my breasts. I used my hairbrush. I listened to the shower. Before I left the bathroom, I opened the shower stall door, looked inside, apologized and closed the door again. The woman inside smiled at me, puzzled and perhaps annoyed to be interrupted twice. She didn't know me and I didn't know her. The water made beads on her face, her lips, her nipples. Her bush was darkly stained with it. I had often seen other girls and women naked. Betty and I had showered together here only last summer. But looking at this naked woman now was different. Her breasts were heavy and lay against her chest with a deep fold under them. She wasn't too old, younger than my mother. I wanted to feel her wet skin against me. I knew this was as wrong as what I had been doing in the camper or what I had done with the roll of washcloth in my jeans. But it felt right. I used the room near the sinks to check the appearance of my jeans. Nothing showed. Then I left, walking slowly back to our campsite, thighs scissoring past each other as I placed one foot directly in front of another. I wondered if this was why older girls wriggled their hips so much. Sensation rippled through me and my nipples seemed to glow right through the heavy blouse. I put my towel and hairbrush away and took the shopping list from my Mom when I got back. I walked the half-mile to the country store outside the campground. All the way, the sun roared and the trees sighed and tremors shook my body. I bought eggs and milk and bread and butter from the lady in the store. She smiled at me and treated me like a little girl. I thought she was pretty and watched her for awhile. Her hair was long and blonde and she wore it pulled back in a ponytail. I bought myself an orange soda with the change and looked at the magazine rack. I drank the soda and got the deposit back. I walked back to our campsite through internal thunders and bright flashes of my own very private weather. Outside the sun was warm and the wind was cool in the shadows of the trees. Everything had edges like in an engraving. Brown tree trunks, green needles, blue sky, dirt-colored dirt; all the colors just like I invented them. The belt began to chafe my waist, I didn't want to loosen it, though. My crotch felt damp and hot but the jeans were still dry on the outside when I felt of them. I took the groceries to Mom and started helping to fix lunch. My four-year-old brother had caught a fish but no one else had. We were having hot dogs. No one seemed to notice anything odd about me. My brother was very excited, chattering about the fish he had caught. "What happened to it?" I asked. "We 'froo it back. It was too little," he said. "Dad's gonna take me back after lunch and I'm gonna catch a big one." Dad laughed, nodding. All the guys were going back to try fishing again. "Where'd you catch it? Did you have a special place? How come no one else caught any?" I asked. My brother giggled, impressed with his own prowess. "In the lake, 'cause I fished better." "I know in the lake, silly. Where?" "Over dere." He pointed across the end of the lake, about a mile following the trail around the edge. "Maybe I'll go with you this time," I said, half teasing. "You wanna fish, too?" "No, I'll just go out there with you and come right back." I said. "I need a nice long walk this afternoon." ------------------------------------------------------------ Copyright 1998, 2000, 2001 by Erin Halfelven. All Rights Reserved. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+