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I noticed the change at breakfast. The fan club that had sprung up so suddenly, had disappeared just as fast. Silence fell over the dining masses when I walked in, cold glints appeared in the childish eyes, and the few greetings I issued went unreturned.

The other instructors were ignorant of all this, and greeted me as usual. But Mark knew what was going on. He beckoned me over to sit beside him, and whispered to me.

"What did you do, old boy? They're giving you the collective cold shoulder, you know. You must have really upset somebody."

"This little girl, Irene, must have blown the whistle on me," I shrugged. "We didn't see eye to eye on a few things last night."

"You mean you fucked her badly," he asked. "That's big trouble, old fruit, big trouble indeed."

"You've seen this kind of thing happen before?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, every year somebody cops it. Usually it amounts to little more than a suspension, a few days of ice, then he's back in favor again. Tell me, how badly did you fuck this Irene?"

"She was as mad as a hornet when she left," I said, "But I thought I'd done rather well by her."

"If she was mad, you failed, doesn't matter what you think. So, well, maybe you'll get three days for it, could be a week. They'll make it tough for you till then."

"What the fuck is this!" I said, suddenly impatient. "They're just kids and we're adults. They do as we say, that's how it is. I'm not putting up with any nonsense from them. That's for sure."

He just grinned and said he wished me luck before going back to his breakfast. On the surface of it, everything in the mess hall was back to normal, giggling chattering girls, all of them dressed in thin shirts and little shorts, ready for a day of exercise and games.

Straight after breakfast I had to take a hundred of the girls for gymnastics. Nothing complicated. Just a series of routine exercises. But it didn't go too well. The girls pretended they couldn't hear me, and I was yelling so hard I went purple in the face. Then they messed up their exercises, and burst out into giggles, just making a shambles of their class.

I tried to upbraid them, and snap them back into line, but nothing worked. Not one of them did anything that was specifically wrong. If they messed up, they did it in a bunch. It was very scary the way they cooperated among themselves. At the end I decided to punish them as a group by making them run around the camp twice.

They accepted this order and began to run to the perimeter so they could follow the fence. But they weren't caring! Their pace was slow, and when they got tired they simply walked. Laughing and giggling, shoving each other, cracking jokes at my expense, ignoring my orders to shape up. For the first time I realized what a ruthless band of cutthroats they were!

For the rest of the day I had to take a party of forty hiking again, and once in the woods, I was supposed to organize them into teams to search and evade each other. To this end they had all been given compasses and a lunch pack, and I had been given detailed instructions on how to conduct them.

But they found a comfortable spot, sat down, and ate their lunch, not heeding my commands at all. In the end, I sat on my own some distance away from them and ate my lunch out of sheer nervousness.

By the evening I was a nervous wreck. No one came near my cabin. Even Doris had obviously been warned to keep away. From the adjoining cabins I heard shrieks and giggles, the popping of corks and masculine laughter. Even the timid-looking Lester Phipps, camp dietitian, had girls lining up outside his door. And Elsa was holding a little party for select friends.

Only I was alone. The middle-aged ladies were busy in their cabins, planning the fun for the coming day. I could imagine them, bent over a strategy board, pushing mock regiments of girls around from place to place till they had devised some satisfactory, health-inducing, game plan for everyone.

But I had nothing to do. I thought about my wife and what she would be doing right now. Playing bridge with her friends, no doubt. Bridge had displaced sex for her. I hate the game. She had taken the game up during our honeymoon, playing it with other honeymoon couples while I played a lot of sports. And now, in the fifth year of our marriage, she was playing bridge full-time, going to matches, clubs and casual card evenings.

As for the full deck of cards between her legs, she had forgotten about them. Not so these little girls. They were just discovering them, and dealing them all out! My flesh hungered for them, anyone, even little Doris and her bald, underfed cunt. If I could only get my hands on one!

I took a walk. It was a hot night, many of the huts were already in darkness, all the windows open. I peered inside some of them. Mostly I heard regular breathing or high little voices mumbling sleepily. But in some the girls were wide awake and conducting their own pleasures.

One hut was especially active. I took up a well-concealed position and watched as four girls stripped in front of a dozen spectators and set to making love with unbridled energy.

They were all very pretty, and seemed to have been chosen for the color of their hair. One girl was black, very black, in fact, her skin glowing in the bright lights, silky sheen. She had tiny tits with big nipples, the first emerging little curls spreading over the top of her cunt. Another was white-blonde, about ten years old, no tits, just a deep cleft in the chubbiness between her long legs. The third I recognized as Angela, the little precocious woman. And the fourth was a redhead, snow-white little tits with startling pink nipples and red down over her crotch.

The four of them were engaged in some kind of erotic dance, cheered on by the audience. One by one they assumed a static position, making love to their partner lightly at first, but soon growing heavy.

The black girl and the redhead were in a tight embrace, kissing, tongues poking out their cheeks, their chests pressed together and their loins grinding. The blond and Angela were on the floor pretending to fuck, and slowly getting the measure of tribadism till it became real enough for Angela to cry out in ecstasy.

Then all four of them jumped up on a big table. The black girl and the redhead stood at either end of it, facing each other. The blonde and Angela squatted at their feet, asses touching, their mouths burying into the red and black cunts, hands clasping buttocks as their heads bobbed and their mouths sucked.

I was getting very hard and restless. For a moment I considered storming inside and throwing my feverish body into that puddle of flesh, grabbing at those nude little cunts and sucking whatever came into my mouth. But the experiences of the day warned me against it. They would either ignore me, or run screaming into the cabins of the middle-aged ladies.

I watched for a few minutes more as the girls amused themselves, the audience cheering them on and helping out with willing fingers wherever necessary. Restless little girls, nervously fingering their own boxes as they watched their friends up on the table fucking and sucking. Little practice runs, I decided, but with an over-ruling passion for the flesh such as can only be caused by boredom.

I moved on, and headed unconsciously for the showers and the bathroom. The layout of this camp was so innocent! Simply by climbing up on the roof of a hut, one could look over the walls, through the wide gaps that had been left to expel the steam and smells. That's what I did, and there's where I stayed for a long time.

There was something about my situation that nearly drove me crazy with lust. Only a few girls were showering at this hour, and three or four were on the toilet. They went about their business unaware of my prying eyes, and that's what made it so arousing to me. These wisps of women, these nude children, washing themselves like little grown-ups, wiping their asses, and taking a leak, their bodies still young but their mannerisms ancient. I don't know how to explain it, I just felt a lot of rushes and sharp shivers running through me while I was up there.

But eventually that failed to satisfy me, and I moved on. I checked out the party cabin and saw all the girls on the point of leaving. Most of them were already dressed, the others were in the process. The girls who lived in the hut were crawling into their beds, their cunts still gleaming wetly from the evening's proceedings.

An idea occurred to me. I hung around at the back of the cabin, hearing their silvery voices bid each other goodnight, while I waited for the last one. Perhaps one of them would stray from the herd.

My luck was good. The tall, black girl was late in getting away. She walked around the cabin to get to her hut and to get there she had to pass me. Burning with lust, but my brain cool, I seized her around the waist, one hand clasped over her mouth, to carry her back to my cabin.

She put up quite a struggle but it wasn't good enough. I pushed her inside and locked the door. For a moment it looked like she was going to scream, and I rushed over at her, my fist raised as a warning. She took the hint. Not that there would have been much point in screaming. With the color television blaring next door, and Elsa's stereo playing the top forty at full blast, no one would have heard her.

She was frightened. She stood in the far corner of the cabin, her hands over her mouth as her wide-open eyes looked for a way out. I poured us a drink from a bottle borrowed from Mark to pass the time. She shook her head, and pressed deeper into the corner.

"Come on," I said, as soothingly as possible, "there's no need to be afraid. All I want is a little company. Here, take a drink, it'll make you feel better."

She shook her head again, but relaxed when she saw I wasn't going to ravage her. And ravaging was the furthest thing on my mind. I knew if I was to ingratiate myself with the leaders of the girls, I had to give a mighty good performance. This, then, was the lucky girl.

But the lucky girl seemed disinclined to accept her good fortune. She reluctantly sat on a chair, her long, gleaming legs crossed as if throwing up additional barriers. I guessed her to be twelve years old, well-developed, her buttocks extra round and firm, dimpled at the flanks, her breasts promising big things for the future.

I asked her her name, and she whispered it was Sandy. I sat down opposite her and poured her a glass of scotch, adding plenty of water and ice. She sipped at it, pulled a face, but didn't put it down. I took a tug on my drink and continued my quest.

"You're a beautiful girl," I told her. "Extremely beautiful. But I guess you've been told that so often that you're sick of hearing it, right?"

She smiled thinly and shook her head. I went on to praise her lovely limbs, long, rippling muscles running along them at each move she made, then told her how I loved broad shoulders on girls, especially when they had such terrific breasts to go with them. Sandy liked to hear me tell her such things. She showed it in the way she looked down at the ground and grinned.

Embarrassed but pleased, she finally told me to stop jiving her and to give her a refill. I sank my drink and gave us both another shot. I asked her questions about her home and her past, and slowly we got a conversation going in the course of which her shyness gave way to a sassy kind of street toughness. I liked that a lot.

I sat down on the bed and patted it. She grinned at me with knowing eyes, but she came and sat with her back resting up against the wall, her legs drawn up under her. Her eyes were big, long lashes fluttering, childish, but smart. I knew she wasn't going to be easy, but I also knew that if I didn't make it with her, I was as good as dead.

Another drink helped things along. She was getting a little giggly, and more outgoing. She got upset over something I said and jokingly punched me. I punched her back, laughingly, and we began to wrestle. She was lithe as a panther, surprisingly strong for a girl her age. But I soon got the drop on her, and pinned her down on the bed. She struggled harder, her face screwing up with the effort of it all, but finally she had to admit defeat. I fell down beside her, both of us breathing hard and laughing.

Obviously she had overcome her inhibitions towards me. She lay close to me, her head on my shoulder, snuggling in occasionally. My hand moved over to her breast and squeezed it gently. She gave a satisfied little groan, so I slipped my hand under her halter and tasted her hard, smooth flesh.

"Wait a minute," she said, and her voice had grown husky, "let me give you more to play with." She undid her halter and let it fall to the floor. "There," she said, and lay back, her eyes falling too with contentment, "now squeeze 'em."

I hurried to comply, flexing them in my hands and bringing my lips to the dark nipples. I let my teeth slide over the rubbery little protrusions, my tongue slithering around them, till I heard her breath grow hard.

My hands went down to her shorts and undid the top button. For a moment she seemed to panic. Her hands flew down to stop mine, but then she relaxed and pulled back. I undid the button, and the others. And, when the shorts were hanging only by her pert cheeks, she lifted up and let me slide them off all the way down over her feet.

Before I went any further, I undressed so as to be ready for anything. She didn't look at me, as though she didn't want to be confronted by my throbbing, heavy cock. I took the hint, and lay on my belly by her side to return to kissing her tits.

She pushed them out at me, delighting in the wet trail my tongue was leaving over them, and the subtle sensations my teeth evoked. Slowly I sent my hand sliding down her tough, flat belly down into those tiny curls over her crotch, taking care to see that she was ready for it.

She didn't object at all. In fact, she brought her loins up higher to press my hand into her cunt. I dawdled, plucking gently at the little black threads so that the skin came up and tugged at her cunt's nerve centers.

It wasn't long before her legs parted, the green light, and I let my hand descend into her slit to enjoy the warm, barely moist nakedness of her lips. Her hips began to jerk spasmodically, quick staccato outbursts, then nothing, then another, each burst accompanied by low little moans.

My prick was so hard I thought it might burst out of its skin like an overdone sausage. My brain threatened to close down at any moment. But by dint of sheer will power, I kept a good grip on myself, and teasingly went on with my seduction.

Actually, Sandy was ripe and ready, and just waiting for me to poke my agonized prick up her wet little cunt. Her black lips were shining hysterically with the juices running down her legs, and her tits quivered with each harsh breath she took. I was debating with myself whether to go down on her. My taste buds were up in arms, crying out for a sample of her ample juices. Only my bad experience of the previous night held me back.

Then I threw all caution to the wind and let my tongue run down her hard belly straight into the open cleft and into her tropical hole. For a moment I waited to see how she would react. To my relief her legs shot open like the arms of a mother at the return of her soldier boy, and I buried my head into her bare little cunt as if looking for hidden treasure.

She tasted nutty somehow, nutty and wild. I drank her down like mother's milk, slobbering, my face wet with her sticky fluids and my sweat. Sandy arched her back, her little fists beating at her sides, gasping for breath, all the while shoving her loins harder into my face.

My hands cupped her firm, squeezably soft buttocks, pressing them down onto her asshole to give her a bonus tingle. She really liked that. I let go of her ass and concentrated on her asshole. She nearly jumped through the ceiling, but in no time at all had recovered herself, and was pushing down for more.

I gave her everything, delighted to have found a girl who tasted like heaven and loved to be eaten. I made a pig of myself, meanwhile fingering her asshole and squeezing her muscular cheeks, one hand reaching up for her small, hard tit and rubbing her nipples. She was groaning like a ship at sea, her legs wrapped around my neck for extra traction, and I knew if I didn't plug her soon my prick would self-destruct out of sheer spite.

With a swift motion of my whole body, I covered her, and the swollen knob of my red-hot prick eased into her little cunt without resistance. She was so wet it sopped as it moved up the spout, slurping in a most unladylike fashion. Sandy cried out, an animal cry of bliss, and I bashed the remaining inches of meat right up her.

We settled into a violent fuck. Our loins worked furiously but in time. For a girl of twelve she had grown up awfully fast. But then in some parts of the city they're ready for marriage at that age. Periods begin at nine, childbearing at eleven, there was no need for me to be surprised that she was neither a virgin nor incompetent.

At one point during our mindless, all-consuming fuck, she interrupted briefly to change position. She stood on the floor and rested her long, slender torso over the bed so that I had to get behind her and fuck her standing up. This excited me even more, so much so that I had to take a quick breather so as not to run over.

But finally I got it together. She presented her full black buttocks to me most charmingly shaped like an upside down heart, her tiny asshole and her shining, naked lips poking out from between the cross of buttocks and strong thighs. I rested the purple head of my shining, oily prick up against the hole for a second, then shoved it right up her so that my pubic bone slammed against her ass and she gulped for breath.

"Beautiful!" she cried out, and I knew I was on the right track. My hand found a grip on her slippery ass, and my whole body swayed to deliver each thrust with the maximum of power. Each blow to her cunt sent her face sliding over the sheets, her hands vainly grappling about looking for a support.

We were ascending together. I leaned back while my prick ploughed into her, my head was heavy and I let it lie back, closing my eyes and breathing in through my wide-open mouth, while the remains of my brain tried to keep my knees from buckling. She was breathing like a car without a muffler, her pitch heightening with every master stroke.

The moon was within reach. Both of us were puffing, she fucking me back for all I fucked her. I felt my innards cramping up for the final explosion, just as she was gasping for a shred of oxygen to spark her orgasm off with, and then the roof fell in.

At least, that's how it felt. The door burst open and a swarm of irate girls rushed inside, cursing and pulling me off her. I didn't have the power to beat them back, I was so stunned and so horny. From the corner where a dozen little girls were holding me, I saw Sandy writhing with unfulfilled ecstasies. One of the older girls rushed over and, with several skillful thrusts of her bunched fingers, tipped Sandy over the brink of an explosive climax. When that was done, they all turned to me with menace in their eyes.

"What's the matter with you," said the older girl, licking at the juices on her fingers, and eyeing me, insolently. "Do you want to get busted or something? We can oblige you, you know, anytime we feel like it."

"Yeah," said a ten-year-old next to her, raising herself on tiptoes to impress me, and so bringing the hem of her nightgown high over her little cunt, "we can bust you, mister!"

"Now, listen," I said, "I'm tired of you girls thinking you can lord it over me. Sandy and I were doing very well until you came barging in here, I'll thank you to leave us alone."

They laughed sarcastically. The older girl turned to Sandy and told her to go back to her hut immediately, or she'd be reported. Sandy walked out, and the girl called out she'd be reported. As Sandy stormed from the room the girl said she'd see her later about this. Then back to me, unfriendly to the extreme, "This is your last chance, mister," she said, pointing her finger at me. "If we find you with another girl this week, your ass is grass."

With that she turned and left, followed by the other girls. Each of them seemed to think they had to add weight to the threat by eyeing me darkly. The door fell to and I was all alone with my enormous palpitating erection, and no place to put it.

Those little fucks, I thought bitterly, they really pour it on when they've got it in for you. I resigned myself to jerking the load off myself, but then I heard a timid knock on the door. I walked over quickly and opened it. No one there.

Just as I was about to shut it, a pale figure flashed through the dark and ran inside, pushing the door shut and resting against it. It was Doris. She was pale and frightened, shifty-eyed, and begged me to switch the light off in case anyone saw her.

I did what she asked, knowing I was lucky to at least have her on my side. In the dark she undressed and we went to bed where she set to taking care of my painful hard cock with her mouth.

But I wanted to fuck. With a dab of Vaseline I took a shortcut into her cunt. My big dick slipped inside her, and, without further ado, I fucked her. She seemed to enjoy it. One day she would make someone a dutiful wife. Until then she was my safety valve.

Her little arms curled around my back and her skinny legs came up and around my waist as my dork ploughed into her cunt. She was still dry, but the grease made it enjoyable. Slowly she got into the spirit of things, gripping me more tightly and moaning like a puppy.

A sense of compassion made me hang onto my impatient wad. Gnashing my teeth I fucked her till she was happy, helping her along by rubbing her tiny clitoris and so giving her a diminutive orgasm all of her own. She was very pleased with that.

Then, with all the forces unleashed, I slammed my prick into her little cunt from a high angle to get that extra friction, and brought myself totally undone. A hot geyser of cream rushed up her youthful tube, and I felt relieved like a boil that's been lanced.

I rolled over on my side and fell asleep, her arms around me and her loins against my ass. A dutiful wife, I thought, before dropping off. Plain girls make the best wives. They have to try harder!
2 comments

anonymous readerReport

2013-04-24 15:36:49
I don't even want to see or hear adirttvsemenes past print adirttvsemenes in magazines aimed at the appropriate target audience for panty liners, tampons, condoms, or Viagra to name a few of the usual suspects. Nothing like listening to commercial radio (which I haven't for a long time) and hearing an ad talking about keeping it up, or watching TV and seeing women talking about their vaginas.(I will admit to not watching TV for quite a while and I didn't watch that ad on this post either)I'm waiting for the day they start airing commercials about diarrhoea by using someone taking a shit in a glass toilet because hey it's natural and everyone wants to see it too, right?VN:F [1.9.20_1166](from 0 votes)

achimvwReport

2012-05-26 07:49:09
This was published in the 1970s as "FLP-135 Girl's Camp Counselor By Paul Sutherland". At least give the credit to the author who you copied it from.

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