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From: Nick Scipio <imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Summer Camp - Book 2" by Nick Scipio - Ch 06 (mF, teen, oral)
Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2003 18:10:02 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 2: Gina
Part: Chapter 06
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: mF, teen, oral
Revision: 1.0
Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/SummerCamp2
Mailing List: Scipio_Stories-subscribeSPAM@BLOCKyahoogroups.com
FAQ: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/www/faq.htm

*****************************************************************
                       STANDARD DISCLAIMER

The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT 
entertainment. It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL 
nature. If you are offended by sexually explicit content or 
language, please DO NOT read any further.

All characters in this story are fictitious; any similarity to 
any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely 
coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse 
any of the activities described in this story.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without 
the written permission of the author, Nick Scipio 
(imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com). This story may be freely 
distributed with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2003 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

*****************************************************************

Summer Camp - Book 2: Gina
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER SIX

The next day, Susan and I had to drive to town to pick up more 
boxes. I got up early, took a quick shower, put on my clothes, 
and headed down the hill to her house. When I got there, she was 
cooking breakfast. I knocked and then opened the door without 
waiting for her to turn.

"Morning," she said cheerfully.

The aroma of French toast filled the kitchen, and she smiled at 
me when I took a deep breath to enjoy the smell.

"I miss cooking breakfast for the boys," she said.

She set a plate in front of me and looked pointedly at my shorts. 
I grinned sheepishly and slid them down my hips.

"I couldn't do _this_ with the boys, though," she said, sliding 
to the floor, her eyes locked on my stiffening penis.

She had her fill of me, and I had my fill of French toast. 
Afterward, she fixed herself a piece of plain toast and I 
followed her, still sans shorts, back to her bedroom. Once there, 
she sat cross-legged in the center of the bed and gestured for me 
to join her.

"Ah, the stamina of youth," she said when she saw my semi-aroused 
state. "Hold that thought."

"Sure," I said with a grin. "What's going on?"

"We need to talk."

At her serious tone, I began to squirm a little. Had I done 
something?

"You know," she said. "You're a lot more fun when you forget to 
feel sorry for yourself."

I blinked at her. "What's that supposed to mean?" I finally 
asked.

"Well, it means what it sounds like. When you're not feeling 
sorry for yourself, you're pretty fun to be around."

When I didn't say anything, she continued.

"Are you ready to talk about whatever's been bothering you?"

"I don't know what you mean." In reality, I did, of course. I 
just didn't want to think about it. Things had been going so well 
for the past couple of days. I thought that if I didn't worry 
about Gina or Amy, or any other woman besides Susan, I wouldn't 
get depressed. I didn't want to talk about things at all, but in 
a way I did. I guess I desperately wanted to talk to Susan about 
what I should do, but I didn't have the courage to bring things 
up myself.

"Spit it out," she said, sensing my reluctance.

"It's about a girl," I said tentatively.

She merely nodded.

"There's this girl... Amy... from school. Although I guess I should 
say there _was_ this girl..."

"Don't get all mopey about it," Susan admonished. "Just tell me 
about her."

So I did. I told her about my school year, all the parts I'd left 
out when we talked on Sunday. I told her about how Amy and I had 
become friends, and then gone on double dates with Scott and 
Shannon. I told her about how Gina and I had drifted apart when I 
was living my life on a wrestling mat. I told her about Amy and 
the hot tub, and then the next morning. I told her about 
pregnancy scare. I told her everything. With a few insightful 
questions, she drew more information out of me, but for the most 
part, she just let me talk.

"The worst part is," I said, nearly 45 minutes later, "I don't 
know what to tell Gina. But I'm going to face things like a man."

She gazed at me serenely, long enough to make me begin to squirm 
again. "Are you serious about that?" she finally asked.

Her penetrating stare put me off a little, but I swallowed hard 
and nodded. I guess I expected her to sympathize with me, or 
maybe tell me that everything would work itself out.

"Well, if you're going to face things like a man, you'd better 
start acting like one," she said flatly.

I blinked at her, too stunned to say anything.

"Half of being an adult, of being a man, is taking the good with 
the bad and not whining about it. Whining never solved anything, 
and it makes you sound like a child."

"Whining...?"

"Yes, whining," she said. "I understand you're in a tough 
situation, and it may not be entirely your fault. But you still 
need to deal with the problem rather than moaning about how you 
don't know what to do."

"Moaning...?"

"Did you ever talk to your parents about any of this?"

I shook my head sullenly. I wasn't taking kindly to being told I 
was whining and moaning.

"Why not?"

I shrugged.

When she didn't say anything else, I cast about for an answer. I 
knew she expected one, and that she wasn't going to continue 
until she got one. "What would they know about it?" I finally 
asked hotly. "How could they help?"

"Do you _honestly_ think that?" she asked calmly.

I glared at her, hoping my expression alone was answer enough. I 
expected her to get angry, or to yell at me. Instead, her eyes 
softened and she took a deep breath.

"Watching you go through this has been one of the hardest things 
your mother has ever had to do. Did you know that?"

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. I stared at her and everything 
around me became a formless blur. "Huh?" I finally croaked.

"It's been tearing her up inside, knowing what you were going 
through and not being able to help."

"She knew?" I gasped.

Susan nodded. "She figured out most of it, yes."

"How?" My mouth was suddenly dry and I had horrible visions of 
being grounded for the rest of my life.

"She's your mother, Paul," Susan said, her voice softening. "You 
think she doesn't pay attention to you, doesn't notice your 
moods?"

I swallowed hard.

"She figured out what was going on with Amy when you got that 
phone call the one morning."

I immediately knew: the morning when Amy told me she'd gotten her 
period. I cleared my throat and swallowed hard, but my mouth 
still felt filled with cotton. "How?" Couldn't I think of 
_anything_ better to say?!

"How do you think?" Susan asked, her voice laden with irony. 
"She's a smart woman, Paul. Give her a little credit."

I nodded, still too shocked to speak.

"And while you're at it, give her a little credit for wanting to 
help you. You've put her through a really hard time for the past 
couple of months. Did you know that?"

I shook my head.

"Well, you have. If you've got a problem, no matter how bad you 
think it is, you can _always_ talk to her. And if you don't think 
you can talk to her, think again, because you're probably wrong. 
What were you _thinking_, not talking to the one person in your 
life guaranteed to love you no matter what?"

"I..."

"Do you think she'd stop loving you because you're 16, and did 
something dumb, like practically every 16-year-old in the history 
of the world, at one time or another? So... What _were_ you 
thinking?"

"I..."

"You weren't," she said with finality. It was an indictment.

I started to defend myself, but she frowned slightly, and I knew 
it was futile. I hung my head and shook it morosely.

"Paul," she said to the top of my head. "My father used to tell 
me that there are reasons, and there are excuses. He wasn't 
interested in the excuses, only the reasons. So, what's the 
reason you didn't talk to your mom?"

I thought about it long and hard, and Susan let me. I knew what 
the answer was, but I couldn't form the words. Finally, I took a 
deep breath. "I was scared," I admitted.

"Scared that Amy might be pregnant?" she asked rhetorically. 
"Scared about how your parents would react, and probably about 
how hers would react if she were? Scared about how things were 
going with Gina? Scared about a lot of things, right?"

I nodded, trying to blink back the tears that were welling up.

"That's okay, Paul," she said soothingly. "It's okay to be 
scared. That's what your family and friends are there for, to 
help you when you're scared, or need advice, or just want someone 
to talk to."

"What would she know about it?" I asked, trying to salvage some 
of my dignity.

Susan lifted my chin with her finger and smiled gently. "A 
_lot_," she said simply.

I looked away, determined not to let her see me cry.

She put her hand on my knee--a firm, reassuring presence--and I 
unexplainably felt better. "You can always talk to your mom. Or 
to me," she said softly. "You know that, don't you?"

I nodded moodily.

"Paul, look at me when you answer. And _mean_ it."

I looked at her defiantly, my eyes still brimming with unshed 
tears. At her gentle expression, mine softened somewhat. She 
looked at me wordlessly and waited for me to answer. "I know," I 
said at last.

She looked at me for a long moment, and then nodded. "I know you 
do." She was silent for a moment more while I wiped my eyes. 
"Don't do this to your mother again. She was a young mother and 
watched her husband go off to fight a war. She said that watching 
you tie yourself in knots was worse than that ever was. Your mom 
deserves better, and you know it."

I nodded again, considerably less sullen.

She reached out and tenderly caressed my check. "You're a fine 
young man, Paul. You're going to make an even better grown man."

I felt heat rising in my cheeks.

"Now, let's talk about what you want to do about Gina," she said. 
"And no whining."

For a moment, I was stung by her words, but when I looked at her 
gentle expression, the resentment drained out of me. Still not 
trusting myself to speak, I nodded.

"Men don't whine about their problems, they fix them, or they get 
over it. Whining doesn't do anyone any good, and it makes you 
sound pathetic."

"All right, already!" I said hotly. "I get the point about the 
whining. No more whining. Okay? Can we just get on with figuring 
out how to solve my problems?"

She grinned at me and arched an eyebrow. "Ah," she said 
cryptically. "A glimmer of hope."

"What?"

"Never mind," she said with a smug grin. "First, you need to 
figure out how you feel about Gina and Amy. Do you love Gina?"

"Very much."

"And what about Amy?"

"I thought I did."

"But you're not sure?"

"I was," I said.

"What made you change your mind?"

I thought about it for a moment, but couldn't come up with 
anything definitive.

"Can you see yourself spending the rest of your life with Gina?"

I nodded quickly.

"With Amy?"

"I guess."

"You don't sound very convincing," she said.

"Well, it's not that. I could easily see Amy as my wife, but..."

"But what?"

"Well," I said, thinking hard. "I dunno. I guess maybe it's 
because that's all she'd like to be."

With a gesture, she invited me to continue.

"I mean, Amy's great, don't get me wrong. She's cute, and fun to 
be with, and easy to talk to and all. But..." I just couldn't put 
my finger on it. "I guess she'd be happy being my wife."

"And you don't think Gina would?"

"It's not that, I think Gina would. But with Amy, it's like... it's 
like she'd be happy being _just_ my wife." With a start, I 
realized I'd hit on something. "That's it," I said with growing 
certainty. "Gina wouldn't want to be just my wife, she wants to 
be a doctor. With Amy, we never really talked about it, but I 
always got the impression that she really just wanted to get 
married and have babies."

"You don't want to have children?" Susan asked.

I shook my head. "I want kids. But Gina and I haven't talked 
about it," I said, trying not to blush. "I know from things she's 
said that she wants to have kids someday, though."

"Then what is it?"

I got the idea that Susan knew where the conversation was going, 
but she wanted _me_ to get us there. "I dunno. I guess it's that 
with Amy, all she really wants, would want, is to be my wife. She 
wouldn't want more, I don't think."

Susan nodded and motioned for me to continue.

"But with Gina, she wants to be something more than just a wife 
and mother."

"'Just a wife and mother' is a pretty tough job," she said. "Much 
tougher than most men realize."

I looked at her and furrowed my brow in confusion.

"Your mom is 'just a wife and mother,'" she said archly, but 
without heat. "_I_ was 'just a wife and mother.'"

"I don't mean it like that..."

"I know you don't," Susan said placatingly. "But I want to talk 
about this for a moment. You need to understand that being a wife 
and mother isn't the easiest thing in the world. Think about all 
the things your mother does for you."

"I know she does a lot," I said, although it sounded insincere, 
even to me. "But it's not like she has a job..."

"Ha!" Susan snorted. "You don't think so?!"

My eyes widened and I was taken aback by the force of her 
reaction.

"Do you cook?" she asked suddenly.

"No."

"Do you do laundry?"

A headshake.

"Do you clean the house?"

"I have to help out," I said, but it was a hollow protest.

"Do you go grocery shopping?"

"Sometimes. I mean, I help."

"Every day?"

Another headshake.

"Do you...?"

"Okay, I get it. She does a lot. Okay?"

Susan nodded, finally letting up. "Don't ever think that being a 
wife and mother isn't a job, Paul. In a lot of ways, it's a 
tougher job than most men have. Most men get to leave their jobs 
at the end of the day and go home to their wife and family. Where 
does a wife go after her workday is done? She doesn't _get_ to 
leave 'the office' and go somewhere where her meals are fixed, 
her sheets are clean, and someone remembered to buy more toilet 
paper."

I worked my mouth soundlessly, but couldn't think of a thing to 
say.

"Your mom has a job, a full-time job. You, your sister, your 
father, and your home are _it_."

"Wow." I blinked, still trying to get my mind around what she'd 
just told me.

"Wow, indeed."

Susan let me think for a moment, and I'm sure she knew what I was 
thinking about. I guess for the first time in my life, I started 
to really appreciate all that Mom did for us. Even at camp, on 
our "vacation," she did laundry, went grocery shopping, and swept 
out the cabin. Erin and I had to change our own sheets, and we 
had to pick up after ourselves, but aside from the odd bowl of 
cereal fixed in the morning, we did little else to help out. I 
was a little overawed when I thought about all that Mom did, most 
of it without me even noticing it.

"It's a lot," Susan said, as if reading my mind. "Now that you 
think about it."

I nodded dumbly.

"So... If Amy wants to be 'just a wife and mother,' as you think 
she does, what's the matter with that?"

"I guess I hadn't thought about it that much," I said lamely.

"Well, I'm sure you have," Susan said. "Just not in those terms. 
Just as long as you don't spout any more nonsense about being a 
wife and mother and 'not having a job.'"

I shook my head quickly.

"So why don't you think you'd be happy with Amy, without her 
having a job _outside the home?_"

I heard the subtle emphasis in her voice and grinned sheepishly. 
"I don't know, really," I said. "I can't explain it. I guess 
maybe I just want to wait before I have kids... before _we_ have 
kids, I mean. Whoever I end up marrying, that is. I want to wait, 
so my wife can have a job, and maybe the start of a career... if 
she wants... so she'll know what she's trading in."

"Trading in?"

"If she decides to become a wife and mother. I mean, if she 
decides to have a full-time job at home."

Susan playfully rapped her knuckles on my forehead. "There _is_ 
some learning going on in there."

I blushed and nodded.

"It's okay to want a wife who has a career," she said gently. 
"When I got married, women didn't have a lot of career options. 
With women's lib, girls today have a lot more choices. In some 
ways, that's a good thing. But you need to remember that family 
is probably still the most important thing. Make sure you marry a 
woman who knows how to balance career and family."

I nodded.

"And make sure _you_ know how to balance career and family. 
Marriage is a partnership. It's not always fifty-fifty, but both 
of you have to work at it."

I nodded again.

"Okay," Susan said lightheartedly. "Down off my soapbox. Let's 
figure out what to do about the women in your life."

"But..."

"Uh uh! No whining."

"Sorry."

"Remember, fix the problem, or get over it."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, rolling my eyes.

She grinned at me but quickly turned serious. "I've got a pretty 
important question for you, and I want you to think about it 
before you answer me. First, however, it requires a little 
explanation."

"More explanation?" I asked, feigning exasperation.

She grinned and nodded. "More. Bear with me." She paused for a 
moment to gather her thoughts. "You can be in love with more than 
one person. Even more than one person at a time. But you can 
really only be _committed_ to one person at a time. Do you 
understand?"

I shook my head.

"If you're in love with someone, say two someones: Gina, and Amy, 
for instance."

"For instance," I said, my voice dripping with irony.

Susan smiled briefly and then continued. "But you could only 
commit yourself to one of them, to always return to that girl, to 
think of her before anyone else, even yourself, who would it be? 
Who would you have a committed relationship with?"

"I see what you mean," I said, understanding why she wanted me to 
take my time before answering. "Commitment's like marriage, only 
not so legal and all."

"Exactly," she said, nodding. "Marriage is simply the legal 
recognition of a couple's commitment to each other. But you can 
have that commitment without being married."

The concept as a whole was a lot easier to understand than the 
"love, in love" thing had been, the year before. All of a sudden, 
a thought occurred to me. Maybe I had to understand the 
difference between love and in love _before_ I could understand 
about commitment. I was staggered by the implications, and a 
little intrigued about what came next.

"Which girl would you have a committed relationship with?" Susan 
asked. "Amy, or Gina?"

I pretended to think about it long and hard, but the answer had 
leapt to my mind as soon as she'd finished asking the question. 
The answer was simple. Far simpler than I thought it had any 
right to be, and I felt that I should at least _look_ like I was 
giving it due consideration.

Finally, I looked up at Susan. "Gina." Simply saying her name, 
with all that it implied, felt like a load had been lifted from 
my shoulders.

Susan squeezed my hand reassuringly and smiled at me. "Good." She 
paused for a moment, then looked at me mischievously. "Now, we'll 
talk the morning away if we stay here. We have work to do," she 
said, looking at the bedside clock. "We can figure out what 
you're going to say to Gina later."

I nodded.

"Right now, I need a shower." She started to get up, tugging me 
with her. "C'mon, let's go."

"But I already showered," I said.

Susan grinned at me indulgently. "I don't want you in the shower 
to get you _clean_, Paul." She looked pointedly at my penis.

"Oh! Okay." I smiled at her, truly happy for the first time in... 
in a long time. I still had a lot of things to figure out, and 
the future was hardly assured, but at least I knew what--or 
rather, who--I wanted.

-----

Once in the shower, we were barely wet before Susan dropped to 
her knees and sucked me into her mouth. I leaned my head back and 
let the hot water wash over my hair and down my body. It felt 
almost as good as her mouth did. Under her ministrations, I 
quickly became fully erect.

Susan slid her lips up the length of my shaft and let it slip 
from her mouth. I looked down at her water-beaded face and 
watched as she kissed down the length of my cock. When she 
reached the base, she licked and sucked my balls while stroking 
me with her left hand.

When she'd had enough of my balls, she sucked and nipped her way 
back up my member and captured the head between her soft, supple 
lips. She flicked her tongue against the slit at the tip, and I 
shuddered at the sensation. Her left hand still wrapped around 
the base, she began sucking more of my cock into her mouth, 
caressing me with her tongue as she did.

I'd already come once that day, and was perfectly content to let 
her take her time. I knew she enjoyed sucking my dick, and I 
enjoyed simply watching her and seeing the obvious pleasure she 
experienced.

She took her time, but soon had her lips wrapped around the very 
base of my organ. She sucked hard and moved her head side-to-side 
at the same time, making me groan. I felt the head of my cock 
ease out of her throat as she pulled back, and the feeling as it 
slid down the length of her tongue was exquisite.

At last, she let my dick slip free and looked up at me with lust-
filled eyes. By unspoken agreement, I helped her to her feet and 
turned her away from me. She leaned against me as I cupped her 
heavy breasts and gently pinched her swollen nipples. She 
shuddered and arched her back, pressing her ass against my 
stiffness. I thrust my hips forward at the same time I began 
twisting her nipples, and she cried out in surprise and pleasure.

The slippery tip of my cock slid between her legs and bumped 
against her moist sex. She shuddered again and began rocking her 
hips back and forth. I hefted her breasts in my hands and 
tenderly kneaded them.

"You have the greatest tits," I said.

"Mmmmm," she said, leaning back against me. "You say the nicest 
things."

"Did you know," I asked, feeling her shiver with arousal, "that 
when I first got home, after last summer, I used to jerk off two, 
sometimes three times a night, just thinking about you?"

She leaned her head against my shoulder and sighed. "You did?"

"Mmm hmm. I'd think of you sucking me, and I'd instantly get 
hard. After that, I'd have to jerk off." I trailed one hand down 
her stomach and began playing with her pussy. Her clit was soon a 
hard little bud and she was whimpering softly. "But you know what 
I thought about most?"

She was silent for a moment, lost in the pleasure radiating from 
her pussy.

"That first time you fucked me."

"Yessssss," she hissed.

"When we were in the courtyard shower, and you bent over in front 
of me. The water was so cold on my hard cock." I punctuated my 
statement with a firm thrust of my hips. "And your pussy was so 
warm and smooth. It felt so wonderful." I rubbed my shaft along 
her puffy labia.

Susan moaned inarticulately and I smiled to myself.

"There's only one thing that bothered me about that first time," 
I said, running my fingers in lazy circles around her clit.

"Whassat...?"

"You didn't come, that first time."

She shook her head, but said nothing.

"At night, when I was thinking about you and stroking my cock..." I 
slid my cock along the length of her slit and felt her lips begin 
to part before me. "I'd think about how I wanted to fuck you, how 
I wanted to make you come for me, if I could do it over."

"Oh, Paul..."

I bumped my hips against her ass and tilted them upward. The tip 
of my dick pressed into the folds of her slick pussy and I 
trailed my fingers over her engorged clit.

"Mmmmm."

"So you know what I want to do?"

She shook her head.

"I want to make one of my fantasies come true. It's a little one, 
nothing wild or crazy, but it's one I have a lot."

With one hand on her sensitive nipple, the other one rubbing her 
clit, and my cock sliding back and forth in her channel, she was 
beyond coherent speech.

"It's going to be like that first time, in the shower. We're not 
outside, but this is close enough."

She nodded wordlessly.

"And I'm going to fuck you from behind, like that first time."

She whimpered and arched her back, trying to press down against 
my stiff cock.

"Only now," I said, letting the words hang in the air as I 
pressed two fingers against the hooded base of her clit and 
pulled on her nipple. I leaned close to her body and pressed my 
lips against her ear. "Only now," I said slowly, "I know a _lot_ 
more about a woman's body."

With that, I gently pressed her forward until she was half bent 
over, with her palms flat against the far wall, supporting her 
weight. I kept my hips pressed against her ass, and my cock 
against her labia, as I put my hands on her waist. I tilted my 
hips up and then pulled back slowly, letting the bulbous head of 
my dick drag along her slit. She shuddered with the passage and I 
gripped her hips to steady her.

I took one hand off her waist and aimed my manhood at her pussy, 
easing forward until I felt the head begin to spread her open. I 
slipped forward a little, until just the crown was inside her, 
then put my hand back on her waist. In a move that was far more 
practiced than the first clumsy time we'd had sex, I slid forward 
and seated my cock in her depths.

Susan shuddered as my girth spread her open, and once I was 
buried as deeply as possible, I held my hips motionless. I looked 
down and simply marveled at the gentle curve of her ass as it 
flared towards her hips, and then pinched in at her waist, only 
to flare again over her ribs and shoulders.

I ran my palms up along her flanks, teasing the sides of her 
dangling breasts with my fingertips, and finally rested my hands 
on her shoulders. I gathered her wet hair and draped it over her 
left shoulder. She looked back at me over her right as I gently 
caressed the line of her cheek with my finger. Her eyelids 
drooped in pleasure when I began to slide my hips back in 
preparation for the first thrust. When it came, it was short and 
gentle, and she whimpered.

As I began to thrust into her, I dragged my hands down the line 
of her back and rested them on her hips. I increased the tempo of 
my thrusts, but kept them strong and steady. Every third or 
fourth time my hips slapped into her ass, I rotated them slightly 
and ground my cock into the walls of her pussy. She was moaning 
and thrusting back at me, clearly enjoying herself.

Oh yes, I thought to myself, I'd learned a _lot_ since those 
first fumbling sessions. I knew how to make her happy, and I 
enjoyed doing it. With both hands, I reached around and cupped 
her pendulous breasts, teasing her distended nipples with thumbs 
and forefingers. She groaned in delight when I pulled on them and 
twisted.

I knew I wasn't in danger of shooting off too soon, but I still 
used most of the tricks I'd learned, to prolong our enjoyment. 
When I felt my orgasm building, I slowed my pace, barely moving 
within her. In order to keep her on the edge, I slid one hand 
down her stomach and started teasing her fully exposed clit.

Finally, I knew I was too close to my own climax to keep 
thrusting, so I buried my rod deep in her pussy and concentrated 
on getting her off. With one hand on the far shower wall to 
support myself, I bent over her back, pressing the skin of my 
chest against her flesh. She gasped at the contact and writhed, 
trying to get me to keep thrusting within her. I kept my cock 
motionless, however, as I began moving my fingers in ever-
tightening circles around her clit.

Susan went wild and her pussy started spasming. I knew she was 
close to orgasm, and I drove her toward it with my fingers. She 
hung her head, and with a low, keening moan, she started to come. 
Her pussy gripped me and I clenched my buttocks, swelling my cock 
against her internal muscles. I felt her clit disappear as she 
cried out and threw her head back, slinging droplets of water 
against my face as her hair slapped over my shoulder. She almost 
clipped my chin with her head when she did, but I didn't let that 
distract me from rubbing her pussy.

Her whole body shuddered with the force of her climax, and I 
could feel her pussy spasming around my intruding shaft. It was 
like a firm, wet glove gripping my cock, squeezing me 
rhythmically. Finally, her orgasm began to subside, and she 
started to collapse forward, both hands slipping down the wall. I 
quickly moved my right hand from her pussy and brought it up 
under her, holding her up. My left hand still pressed against the 
wall, holding us both.

She panted with the aftereffects of her orgasm, and I smiled to 
myself. My own climax was no longer imminent, so I kept 
supporting her and began to gently move my hips back and forth. A 
low moan escaped her as my hard shaft slid over her vaginal 
walls. I pumped into her slowly, not wanting to over-stimulate 
her clit. I knew the motion of my cock--gently sawing in and out 
of her pussy--would move her labia against the sensitive pearl of 
nerves. I wanted her to feel the sensation, but not be 
overwhelmed by it.

Slowly, very slowly, she started moving her hips back against me, 
another orgasm building deep within her. I was still supporting 
us both, amazed by the stamina that days, weeks, and months of 
strength training had given me. Susan put one hand on the wall 
and tried to support herself, but I didn't let her go just yet. 
With her other hand, she began pulling on first one nipple, then 
the other, twisting them far harder than I ever would have.

I felt my own orgasm welling up again, and thrust myself into 
her. She groaned when I stopped moving, but I could tell by the 
way my cock was throbbing that it had been a close call. My balls 
were already tight against my body, and I felt my organ throb 
like I was coming, but I knew I wasn't ejaculating. It was like 
having an orgasm without squirting, and I simply closed my eyes 
and enjoyed it.

By the time the sensation subsided, I thought I was ready to 
begin thrusting again. Susan had moved her hand from her nipples 
to her clit, and was gently massaging the resurgent bud. I could 
feel her second orgasm setting in as I gently thrust into her, 
our wet bodies slapping softly with each contact.

I kept sliding my cock in and out of her pussy as her climax 
washed over her. I could tell it was stronger than her first one 
had been: her back heaved and she tossed her head side-to-side as 
she cried out in pleasure. Her pussy grasped at my thrusting 
cock, but I didn't abate my deliberate pace.

I kept plowing into her as her orgasm slowly subsided, but then 
she tensed up and got very quiet. For a moment, I thought I'd 
hurt her, but when she cried out once, sharply, it wasn't a sound 
of pain. As she moaned incoherently, her pussy gripped me 
fiercely, and I actually had to push to get my cock into her.

I finally forced her muscles apart with my rigid shaft, and I 
immediately felt a rush of moisture around my dick. The water 
from the shower had turned cold, and her pussy juices were warm 
as they flooded over my balls and down my thighs. Susan trembled 
and shook, but remained silent. I kept thrusting within her and 
she rolled through a series of orgasms so rapidly that I lost 
count. Her body shook and shivered with the onset of each new 
wave of pleasure.

I felt my own orgasm building again, and was determined to shoot 
off deep inside her. I quickened my pace and was soon slamming 
into her. She regained a little strength, and supported herself 
against the shower wall as I hammered her pussy with my dick. She 
cried my name over and over again as I thrust into her, until I 
finally rammed my hips forward and impaled her with my manhood.

With a rush, I felt a wave of pleasure break over me as the first 
spurts of semen burst from my cock. Susan cried out as well, and 
I felt another orgasm rock her body. Blast after blast of my 
white-hot semen bathed her inner walls and I felt the warmth of 
our combined fluids around my cock. I closed my eyes tightly and 
saw stars as I emptied myself into her. I don't think I'd ever 
come so much in my life; it seemed to go on for a long, long 
time.

When I finally opened my eyes and took stock of our situation, I 
shuddered again as her pussy spasmed one final time, as if 
milking my cock for all it was worth. Susan was panting, I was 
panting, and I was supporting her weight as she weakly tried to 
lift her arms. My shoulder ached from holding us up so long, but 
every other fiber of my being sang with happiness.

We finally uncoupled, my half-hard cock slipping from her pussy. 
A rush of our fluids cascaded down our thighs and she whimpered. 
Suddenly, she turned around and pushed me upright, wrapping her 
arms around my torso. I hugged her to me as she kissed the skin 
of my chest and murmured endearments. I swayed unsteadily, but 
stayed upright, and for the first time, I noticed how cold the 
water really was. We stood like that for a long time, neither of 
us wanting to move, both of us slowly coming down from the highs 
of our shared orgasms.

-----

Despite the fact that the water had turned frigid, we still had 
to wash ourselves. We were both weary from our exertions, but 
cleaned up as quickly as we could. I chuckled to myself when I 
realized how sluggish and drained we both were.

When we finally stepped out of the shower and wrapped ourselves 
in fluffy towels, we were shriveled, tired, and very happy. Susan 
smiled at me with hooded eyes and bent to kiss my chest. I smiled 
and kissed the top of her head.

"I don't think I've ever, _ever_ come like that," she said. She 
looked up at me with wide, liquid eyes and then leaned against me 
heavily. She sighed deeply, full of contentment.

I laughed softly and pulled her body against me. Even through two 
towels, her curves felt plush and perfect.

"Don't laugh," she said testily.

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because I don't know if I can walk to the bed."

"Huh?"

"My back and shoulders are a little sore, and... well..."

I drew a blank.

She rolled her eyes. "You were inside me for a _long_ time..."

"Oh! Sorry," I said, blushing.

"Don't be. I really enjoyed it." She shook her head in wonder. 
"Boy, did I! But I'm not used to being bent over and fucked silly 
for a solid half-hour."

"Sorry," I said again. "I'll try to do better. Next time, an 
hour!"

She playfully slapped my chest. "You," she said with mock 
disapproval, "are incorrigible."

I practically beamed at her and nodded insouciantly.

"Now, help me into the bedroom," she said. "I was serious about 
that."

As soon as I realized that she really was a little sore, I became 
very solicitous and did as she asked. Once she was sitting, she 
patted the bed next to her and I sat down as well.

"I think you've taken care of my sexual needs for the next day or 
two," she said.

I looked at her and blinked. I hadn't meant to hurt her. What had 
I done wrong? I thought she enjoyed it. What if...?

"Relax," she said. "I'm fine. I just don't think we'll be having 
intercourse for a couple of days."

My face fell.

She laughed brightly. "Paul," she said, lifting my chin with her 
finger. "That was perhaps the best sex I've had since... well... 
let's just say that it's the best sex I've had in a long time. I 
started coming, and I didn't stop until you pulled out of me. I'm 
still tingling and flushed."

I smiled and blushed.

"And just because I'll be a little sore for a day or two doesn't 
mean my mouth'll be out of commission."

I looked up enthusiastically and felt a familiar stirring in my 
groin. My towel had fallen open, and Susan noticed as my penis 
jerked.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed teasingly. "Save me now." She lifted 
her chin and cried out theatrically, "Help! Help! Someone save me 
from the ravages of this madman and his insatiable penis!"

"Don't get me started," I warned, warming to her theatrics. I 
grabbed my shaft and started stroking myself.

Susan laughed gaily and shook her head. "Paul, after the amount 
of come you pumped into me, I'd be surprised if you could get 
hard again in less than an hour."

"Oh yeah?" Just talking about it, I already felt the stirring of 
another erection. I stood up and brandished my growing manhood.

Her eyes widened when she saw that not only was I half-hard, I 
was growing harder as I stroked myself. "Uncle!" she exclaimed. 
"Uncle! Please, no more."

I grinned lasciviously and stepped closer, waving my penis in her 
face.

"I'm serious!" she cried good-naturedly, throwing her hands up. 
"You've worn me out, you young stud. I'm an old woman, I can only 
take so much."

I immediately dropped to my knees in front of her and looked her 
in the eye. "You're not an old woman," I said indignantly.

"No," she said seriously. She kissed the tip of my nose and 
smiled warmly. "But I'm not sixteen anymore, either." She looked 
at me soulfully and then brushed her fingers against my cheek. 
"You're a wonderful young man, Paul Hughes. And some young lady 
is going to be very lucky to have you."

I blushed furiously and look down in embarrassment.

Susan kissed my forehead and then gently pushed me back. "Now, 
you've already ruined me for the rest of the day. There's no way 
I'm going to get any useful work done."

My embarrassment forgotten, I tried to look hangdog, but she saw 
right through me.

"We still have to go to town and pick up more boxes, though."

I nodded and she leaned in to kiss me again, this time on the 
lips.

"Now," she said sternly. "Let's get going, or it'll be dark by 
the time we get home!"

-----

It was late morning when we finally drove out of camp and hit the 
main road to town. We started talking seriously about what I 
should (and should not) tell Gina. Susan recommended that I tell 
her before anything "serious" happened. When she said that, I 
looked at her sidelong, wondering--not for the first time--how 
much she and Mom talked about me and my life. A lot, I decided. 
Sometimes, it was like having two moms. But, I thought to myself, 
I got to have _sex_ with Susan.

We spent most of the hour-plus drive into town talking about Gina 
and me. Susan was inexplicably convinced that Gina would be more 
open-minded than I thought, and I fervently hoped she was right. 
When I told Gina about Amy, I fully expected her to start crying, 
hitting me, or both. Susan merely laughed and shook her head when 
I told her that. I don't know why, but I decided to trust Susan's 
judgment.

She and I didn't really work out exactly what I should say, so 
much as what I shouldn't say. We also talked about _how_ to say 
things. I was pretty sure Gina still loved me, and I certainly 
loved her, but I didn't know how she'd react to learning about 
Amy, much less Stacy and Susan. Susan and I both decided that if 
I was going to be frank with Gina, I should tell her about 
everything. Everything except Mom, that is.

By the time we reached the U-Haul place, I was pretty confident 
that I knew what I wanted to say to Gina. I wanted to refine some 
of the details, and go over things in my head, but I had the gist 
of it. Susan was mostly sure that Gina would still want to be 
with me, but she admitted that she wasn't positive. All things 
considered, I guess I was pretty upbeat about it.

I think I know why I was feeling better too, and it had little to 
do with getting my rocks off. I had slowly come to realize that 
it actually felt _good_ to work on the problem, rather than 
simply moan about it. I admitted to myself that I _had_ been 
whining and moaning, and I felt very childish about it. Even 
though I didn't know how things would turn out with Gina and me, 
at least I felt good to be doing something about it.

At the U-Haul place, we loaded Susan's station wagon to the roof 
with boxes. We wanted to get packing blankets as well, but we 
decided to get them when we picked up the truck for the big move 
from Mr. Kestrel's house to the storage building. After she paid 
for the boxes, we had lunch at McDonald's and then headed back to 
camp.

-----

"You know," Susan said when we turned down the sandy road toward 
the camp gates. "You still haven't called Stacy."

"Oh my God," I breathed. "I'd forgotten all about it."

Susan nodded sagely. "You were so worked up about your own 
problems that you didn't even think about her. Right?"

I nodded mutely.

"I know she misses you."

I looked at Susan, my expression full of questions.

"She asked when you were coming to camp, and I told her."

"You talked to her?" I asked in surprise.

Susan chuckled and shook her head in wonder. "Of course. I talk 
to her all the time. She comes out to visit at least once a 
month. And I see her at my monthly meetings with my accountant."

"She comes to camp?"

She nodded. "Why wouldn't she?"

I shrugged.

"She likes it here. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about 
turning Kirk's room into a guest room for her, but I wanted to 
talk to him about it first."

I just stared at her, open-mouthed. Finally, I regained some of 
my wits. "When is she coming next?" I asked.

Susan looked at me slyly and grinned. "She wanted to wait until 
you called her. Just in case things had... changed... she didn't want 
to make you uncomfortable."

I looked back at the sandy road and felt my chest tighten. Would 
she want to pick things up where they'd left off? I thought I 
did, but I didn't really want to jeopardize things with Gina. 
Then again, things with Gina were hardly assured, and I could 
make the situation worse by having sex with Stacy. But I did want 
to see Stacy again. Would she still want to have sex with me? 
What if she'd...?

"Don't overanalyze things," Susan said pointedly, guessing my 
thoughts..

I grinned sheepishly.

"She wants to see you. Like I said, she misses you."

"Do you think she still wants to...?"

"That's up to her," Susan said. She thought about it for a 
moment, and then finally reached an internal decision with a nod. 
"I think she wouldn't say no, though, if you asked her."

"When do you think she could come out?" I asked.

"That would be up to her, don't you think?" She smiled at me to 
take the edge off her words. "She's taking summer school classes, 
and still working, so I know she's busy."

"Why is she taking summer school?" In my limited experience, 
people only took summer school when they'd failed a class. That 
didn't fit with what I knew of Stacy's personality.

"A lot has changed in her life," Susan said cryptically. "If you 
ask her, I'm sure she'll tell you about it."

"Oh."

"Would you like to call her tonight, after she gets home from 
work?"

I thought about it for a moment. I wanted to, but I was a little 
nervous. What if she...? Don't overanalyze things, I admonished 
myself.

"I think she'd like that," Susan said.

"Can I call her from your house?" I asked.

Susan smiled indulgently and nodded.

I grinned shyly and nodded. "Yeah," I said quietly. "I'd like 
that."

-----

Even though we had lots of work to do at Mr. Kestrel's house, it 
was already mid-afternoon when we returned, and neither of us 
felt like doing much. We'd had a pretty tiring day already, both 
physically and emotionally. We unloaded the boxes at the house 
and then decided to spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing by 
the lake. Susan put on her bikini bottoms and we walked down 
together.

My parents were a bit surprised to see us, but Susan glibly 
explained that we'd had a busy day already, and were going to 
take it easy for the rest of the day. They accepted her 
explanation without comment, and she pulled up a lounge chair to 
join them. I saw Erin sunning herself on the raft, and decided to 
swim out to her.

"Hi, Er," I said, pulling myself onto the sun-warmed canvas.

"Hi," she said sullenly, without looking up.

We hadn't talked much since I'd blown up, and I was feeling a 
little guilty. Susan's words echoed in my mind and I realized 
that when I wasn't brooding, I _was_ a much nicer person to be 
around. Erin and I lay silently for a few minutes, while I tried 
to figure out what to say to her.

"Listen, Erin. I'm sorry I got angry at you the other day."

She shrugged but didn't look at me.

"I shouldn't've yelled at you. I know you were only trying to be 
nice."

"What?" she asked hotly, facing me for the first time. "You get 
laid and suddenly you're all friendly and I'm just supposed to 
forgive you?!"

For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. My shock was quickly 
replaced by anger, but I bit off an ugly reply. Finally, I looked 
at her sadly and nodded. "Yeah," I said. "I probably deserved 
that."

It wasn't the answer she'd been expecting.

I thought about what Susan had said, about excuses and reasons. 
"I was acting like a kid," I admitted. "I was feeling sorry for 
myself, and angry, and I took it out on you. I know that doesn't 
take back what I did, but it's all I can do." I started to stand 
up and Erin looked at me in disbelief. "Whether you accept my 
apology or not is up to you, but I'm sorry." I stood above her 
and looked down, then turned to dive into the water.

"Paul," she said, hastily sitting up. "Wait."

I turned back to her and stood silently.

"I accept," she said contritely.

I sank to the raft and sat cross-legged next to her. "Thanks," I 
said. "I really _am_ sorry."

"I know," she said softly. "So am I."

"It's okay. You had every right to be mad. I haven't been all 
that easy to live with lately."

She nodded.

"But that's in the past," I said, as cheerfully as I could.

Erin's expression was dubious.

I nodded resolutely. "Susan has a way of... putting things in 
perspective... and telling me when I'm acting childish, without 
making me feel bad about it."

Erin sat up fully and crossed her legs, her posture mirroring my 
own. She looked at me quizzically.

I shrugged. "It's one of the things I like about her."

"I bet it's not the only thing you like about her," she said 
wryly.

I felt the heat rising in my cheeks and neck, and let out a 
strangled squeak. "Erin!" 

"Well?"

"No comment," I said. And then it dawned on me. "Hey, how'd you 
know about... you know?"

She looked at me and rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"Well?" I asked, turning the tables on her.

"Sheesh. For a smart guy, you aren't so smart sometimes."

I looked at her and arched an eyebrow.

"Last summer, when I was asking you all those questions..."

I nodded.

"You know... about... sex stuff."

"Mmm hmm."

"Well, I kinda figured it out then. I mean, sometimes, I'd ask 
you something, and you wouldn't know the answer. And then you'd 
disappear for a couple of hours."

Hours when I was off with Susan, I thought to myself.

"Then you'd usually have an answer for me when you got back."

"And?"

"I wanted to see where you were going, so I followed you."

"Erin!"

"I didn't tell anyone," she said quickly. "I swear."

"That's okay, Erin. I know you didn't."

She leaned close and dropped her voice to a whisper. "I think Mom 
might know, though."

I almost laughed. To my immense credit, however, I didn't even 
crack a smile. "What makes you think that?" I asked, as calmly as 
I could.

"Sunday, when we first got here, I came back up to the cabin 
while you and Dad were still at the lake. You know, after you 
yelled at me."

I nodded ruefully, reminded of how badly I'd behaved.

Erin ignored me and kept talking. "Well, Mom and Aunt Susan were 
talking when I got there, and I'm pretty sure it was about you. 
They seemed real worried, but they tried to hide it when I walked 
in." She shrugged. "So I don't know if Mom knows or not."

"That's okay, Erin." I looked at her, trying to determine if I 
could trust her or not. Finally, I decided that I could. She'd 
known about me and Susan for almost a year, and hadn't said 
anything in front of Mom. "If I tell you something, you've got to 
promise never to tell anyone."

She nodded quickly and crossed her heart. She looked at me with 
wide eyes, and once again, it was all I could do not to chuckle.

I leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, "Mom knows about 
me and Susan."

"She does?!" Erin looked around suddenly and lowered her voice. 
"She does?"

I nodded.

"And you're not in trouble? Susan's not in trouble?"

I shook my head. "Mom's a lot cooler than you'd think."

Erin rocked back. "I'll say." She reflected on the magnitude of 
what I'd just told her. "She knows that you and Susan are... you 
know... doing it?"

"Yep."

"And she doesn't care?"

"Well, Er, I think she cares a lot. She knows Susan's not going 
to do anything to hurt me. And, well, she's actually taught me a 
lot."

Erin just blinked at me, still unbelieving.

"Think about it for a second, Erin. I've been in a foul mood for... 
well... for too long. Two days after we get here, Susan tells me to 
quit whining and start fixing my problems. So here I am, in a 
pretty good mood and having a conversation with you like we're 
two adults."

"Yeah. Wow."

"Yeah," I said. "Now you get it?"

She nodded. "I think so." She got a mischievous look in her eye 
and then grinned shyly. "Do you think Mom'd let _me_... you know... 
do it... with someone." She adopted a disaffected manner. "Not that 
I'd have to ask her or anything, but..." She looked at me intently 
and I tried not to smile. "Do you think she would?"

"I guess that's between you and Mom," I said.

"I don't think I could ever talk to Mom about..."

"Trust me, Erin," I said, interrupting her. "Mom is a _lot_ 
cooler than you think she'd be."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"You'll still answer my questions, though, right?" she asked 
quickly.

I finally let my grin break through. "Yeah, Erin. I'll still 
answer your questions."

"Good," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

-----

Later that night, after dinner, I walked to Susan's house so I 
could call Stacy. On the way there, it occurred to me that I 
didn't know her phone number. When I knocked on the kitchen door, 
I was still thinking about how to go about getting it.

"Hi," Susan said, opening the door. She grinned at me and I 
blushed. "Well, aren't you just the cutest thing. C'mon in, you 
can use the phone in the office."

I followed her back to her office, and she pointed to the phone 
and a notepad.

"I wrote her number down for you."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I was just gonna call Directory Assistance," I said lamely. 
Sometimes, I can be a little dense.

Susan laughed softly and simply shook her head. "Ask her if she 
wants to come out this weekend," she said.

"You want me to ask her for you?"

"No," she said patiently. "_You_ want to ask her to come out this 
weekend."

"Oh, yeah! Good idea."

She rolled her eyes and turned to leave. "I'll be down at the 
lake. I'll see you when you're done."

I waited until I heard the kitchen door close, and then wiped my 
hands along my thighs. I picked up the phone and stared at the 
notepad for a few moments, gathering my courage. Finally, I 
dialed.

"Hello."

I recognized her voice immediately. "Uh... hi."

She was silent for a moment, and I began to get nervous.

"It's Paul," I said. When she still didn't say anything, my 
nervousness began to turn to panic. "Are you there?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "I'm here."

I didn't know what to say, and the silence began to get awkward. 
"How are you doing?"

"I'm good. How're you?"

"Good," I said. I paused for a moment and took a deep breath. 
"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," she said.

"Sorry I didn't call when we first got here. Things were kinda 
hectic."

"Yeah. That's what Susan said."

"Oh? When did you talk to her?"

There was silence on the other end of the line, and I began to 
worry again. "Sunday night," she said softly.

"Oh. That's the night we..." That's the night we got here, I 
thought to myself, finishing the sentence.

"Yeah."

"So... are you doing anything this weekend?" I asked.

"Nothing much."

"Would you... I mean..." I cleared my throat. "Would you like to come 
to camp?" I silently thanked Susan for the advice.

"I dunno. Do you want me to?"

"Yeah, I do. I wanted to see you. I mean, if you want to, that 
is."

"Of course I do," she said animatedly. "I mean, yeah. That'd be 
good," she continued in a more subdued tone.

I grinned to myself. "Good. I was hoping you'd want to come."

"You were?"

"Mmm hmm. Like I said, I've missed you."

"You have?"

"Yep."

She sighed happily.

"When do you think you'll be here?" I asked.

"I could take a half-day off on Friday," she said tentatively.

"I'd like that."

"Good! I mean... cool. So, I'll see you around two o'clock?"

"Yep," I said, nodding. "I'll meet you at Susan's house at two 
o'clock on Friday."

"I can't wait to see you, Paul!"

"I can't wait to see you either"

"Goodbye."

"Bye."

After I hung up the phone, I sat in silence for a few moments. I 
imagined Stacy's smooth, trim body, and felt my penis stir. When 
I stroked it a few times, it quickly became erect. Reluctantly, I 
let go of my stiff shaft and walked toward the kitchen. I leaned 
against the cool Formica of the kitchen counter until my erection 
subsided.

As I walked down the hill to the lake, I wanted to think about 
Stacy. But I knew if I did, I'd get an erection, and it wasn't 
yet dark enough to easily hide. When I got there, Mom, Dad, and 
Susan were talking quietly, reclining in our lounge chairs. They 
looked up as I approached, but went back to their conversation 
when I lay facedown in a nearby chaise.

I cradled my chin in my hands and began thinking about Stacy. 
With my penis safely nestled against my stomach, I let my 
thoughts wander, and was soon fully erect. I was really, _really_ 
looking forward to Friday, I thought to myself. With a smile, I 
closed my eyes and let my imagination run wild.

-----

Copyright (c) 2003 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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