James Wheatfield

CAMP FOR LITTLE GIRLS

Chapter One

Iris Harrault stepped back and surveyed the summer porch. It was all ready — newly dusted, the plants all green and thriving, the small wicker table intimately laid for two. The whiskey sours were in the refrigerator and the cold supper prepared. She glanced at her watch, and then out the porch screen which looked out over the wooded drive. No sign of him yet. I'll just freshen myself up, she thought, and then he ought to be here.

She walked into the bathroom, and hurriedly combed her short dark hair and applied a natural lip gloss to her lips. Casting a critical glance over her figure, dressed in yellow — her best color — she nodded to herself in satisfaction. Then she heard the sound of the car.

Running out to the driveway, she was just in time to see her husband John step out of their station wagon.

Happily, she ran right up to him and he hugged her, lifting her small frame right up off the ground.

"Mmm, good to see you again, honey," he murmured, kissing her soft scented hair.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him lingeringly on the lips. Arm in arm, they went inside.

Iris immediately got out the frosted glasses and poured them both a drink. They sat on the cool porch, sipping their drinks and chatting about John's trip to New York City.

"Boy, am I glad to be back here!" he said, shaking his head. "How anyone can live in that city in the summer is beyond me!"

"Try running this place by yourself for a week, and then you might be glad to get back to New York!" Iris retorted, only half-joking.

"Oh come on, honey, surely it isn't that bad!" John answered.

"Keeping eight teen-age girls in line is never easy!" Iris said, looking at him steadily.

"Oh, I think I could handle them… heh… heh…" John joked.

"I bet you could, you dirty old man!" Iris laughed.

This was the third year they had been running Endwood Camp. Ever since they were married, it had been their driving ambition to purchase some land in upstate New York and start a summer camp for young girls. Finally, three years ago, they managed to, acquire some land in the Catskills. It was a beautiful area, and they had built the main house and the dormitory building right on the edge of the forest. That had decided the name, "Endwood," and a short walk through the woods lead to a beautiful lake, not very big, but excellent for swimming, created by a tributary of the Delaware. The first two years, they had had only six girls, but this year, they had eight. Actually, their financial status at the end of the summer would determine whether they could continue the camp in the future, and they were very anxious to make a success of this summer, in the hope that the present boarders would telegraph the word and result in even more applicants before the season was over.

But now, pressing as they were, their minds were not on the business troubles of running the camp…

"I've missed you, darling…" Iris murmured, "after all, a week's a long time!"

"After ten years of marriage," John kidded, "you should be sick of me, not wanting me back!"

"Want me to prove it?" she asked teasingly, looking at him through long dark lashes.

"Yes," he answered lightly. "Come to think of it, I do want proof!"

Iris got up from her wicker chair, and slowly walked over to her husband.

"Come with me, lover," she whispered huskily, taking his hand.

She half-pulled him into the bedroom, and he, continuing the game, pretended not to know where they were going.

"What the…" he said, smothering a laugh.

In their bedroom, Iris placed her drink on the bedside table and then, slowly, deliberately, unzipped her sundress. The cotton dress slipped down her lithe, tan body and fell in a heap on the floor. With a flick of her fingers, she released her breasts from the confines of her bra, and stood there, her bronze skin glowing against the whiteness of her brief nylon panties.

John sucked in his breath at the sight of his wife's naked body. He was still awed by the perfect symmetry of her frame. Even though she was only five foot three, she was perfectly proportioned. Her firm breasts were still upswept even at thirty-two, and her slender waist flared to gracefully molded hips.

The past several years of physical activity had kept her legs in trim athletic condition and there was not a trace of excess fat on her sinewy thighs.

Aware of her husband's admiration, Iris slowly walked over to him, hands on hips.

John was sitting on the bed, his drink in his hand. As he saw Iris approaching, he took a long gulp from the glass and sat it down on the table.

Iris sat down on his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She immediately began to blow softly into his ear, and John could feel himself flush all over. His cock leapt into half-erection, and pushed painfully against his pants, demanding release. The heady scent of Iris' perfume filled his nostrils and he inhaled it. It seemed to waft into his lungs and up to his brain until his entire being was intoxicated by the musky fragrance. Iris nibbled at his ear, and played with his hair, twisting her fingers through the strands, pulling and tugging it gently. He could feel her full, firm breasts digging into his chest, and the nipples were already beginning to rise from the friction that Iris was voluntarily creating by rubbing them against the nylon of his shirt.

He pulled her closer to him, and crushed his mouth down on hers. He stroked her heart-shaped face, and his tongue slipped in past her guardian teeth and joyfully united with hers. As they kissed, John could feel a gnawing beginning in the pit of his stomach, and his cock was even more painfully erect. He could feel Iris quiver beneath his touch as she returned thrust for thrust with her own agile tongue. She slipped her hand down and cupped his bulging genitals, massaging them softly with an expert motion. The gnawing in his stomach was spreading to his loins as he probed frantically with his tongue in the warm softness of her mouth.

"Oh, honey…" he moaned. Her stroking of his prick had become more rapid, and her other hand was creeping down under his shirt collar and tracing light feathery touches on his back. Suddenly, he couldn't stand it any longer. He pushed her away from him, and she fell onto the bed. He ripped off his clothes and stood over her, his erect cock jutting out proudly, thankful for its freedom.

Iris lay spread-eagled on the bed, and looked up at him, her hazel eyes half-closed. John could see her dark pubic hair through the diaphanous material of her panties, and he noticed that the crotchband was already moist. A sheer film of perspiration coated her inner thighs, which were spread invitingly.

With a groan, John lowered himself over the prostrate figure of his wife and once more clamped his lips down on hers. Her arms encircled his neck and drew him even closer to her. His hands closed in on the shivering orbs of her breasts, and he rolled the turgid nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, eliciting little mewls of pleasure from Iris. He felt the budding nipples grow under his manipulation until they stood out tautly from the dark circled areolae. His hands dropped down to her nipped-in waist, and still further, caressing the firm flesh as they went. They came to the confining waistband of her panties, and with an almost angry tug, tried to pull them off.

Iris raised her hips off the bed and John was able to slip the flimsy nylon covering from her quivering thighs. He ran his hands joyfully over her smooth hips, and cupped her pubic mound in his left palm. Iris flexed her loins up and pressed her ebony-colored pubic triangle against his palm, and began to gyrate slowly, grinding herself up mercilessly. John probed and searched and finally parted the soft throbbing furrow down between her legs.

Iris gasped as she felt his fingers come in contact with her sensitive inner cuntal lips, and then began to moan as the ceaselessly working fingers teased the delicate tissues.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh," she sighed softly as the index finger came into contact with the throbbing button of her clitoris. Expertly, she thrust her pelvis up and John's finger stroked the acme of her desire, sending chills rippling up and down her greyhound-like back. She could feel the hardness of his prick digging into her lower stomach and she felt an overpowering desire to have it crammed deep into her hot pussy. John's middle finger found the star shaped entrance to her body, and plunged into the warm fleshy folds. The contact with her hidden recesses seemed to set off a spark in Iris' body, and she thrashed about, desperately trying to engulf more of the fingers deeper into her hungry body. She wrenched her mouth free from John's, and began to toss her head from side to side.

"Oh, God, fuck me, darling, please fuck me now…" she moaned, digging her fingernails into her husband's back. Her animalistic clawing touched off the dynamite of John's week-long abstinence and he lowered himself slightly, until his prick was poised teasingly at her tight quivering cuntal opening. Withdrawing the lubricant-soaked fingers, he hesitated just a second before plunging his enlarged rod into her waiting orifice.

"Ohohohoohh," Iris groaned, her body leaping up off the bed in frenzied passion. She raised her legs and locked them tight up around her husband's back, imprisoning him in a desperate love-grip. Immediately, John began a slow fucking in and out, drawing the long prick out until just the head was still enclosed, and then ramming forward until the entire length of it was buried deep in her hungrily grasping cunt. Iris began to answer his downthrusts with an upsweep of her own, and tantalized his withdrawing cock by a slow, clasping downsweep. Their years of lovemaking had honed their reactions to a razor edge of precision and their bodies fucked in perfect unison, each completely familiar with the other.

Iris moaned softly, her entire being engulfed with sensuous desire, and John's gnawing had erupted into an all-devouring hunger, reaching for complete lustful satiation.

Carla Stafford walked along the woodland path, her shoulders slumped in dejection. Two weeks — two weeks she had been here at Endwood Camp, and it seemed like two years!!

Why did Daddy have to send me to camp again this year? she thought bitterly. Why can't he see that I'm grown-up? I'll be fifteen in two months, and he still treats me as if I'm a baby!

Oh, God, how I wish I could spend the summer with him, meeting all those interesting people, instead of here with these silly schoolgirls!

She looked up, and found herself in the driveway to the main house. She noticed the Harrault's station wagon and knew that John was back. Curiosity lead her up the driveway. There was no one in sight. The office door was locked so she couldn't even go talk to Mr. or Mrs. Harrault. Shrugging her shoulders, she was just about to turn and go back towards the wood, when she stopped. What was that strange noise? Silently walking closer to the house, she listened. There it was again! A whimpering, moaning sound! She tiptoed around the side of the house and the moaning sound got louder. There was an open window a few feet along the wall, and holding her breath, Carla crept up to it. Standing upright, she was able to see over the edge of the window and into the room.

Carla drew in her breath and gasped! Her eyes were riveted on the nakedly entwined couple in the bedroom. She had never seen anything like it! She knew she should leave, refrain from watching this private scene, but she couldn't tear herself away.

She feasted her eyes on the writhing figures on the bed. Iris' hands were digging hungrily into her husband's back, leaving deep red scratches on the smooth surface. Her face was grotesquely distorted, and her shiny dark hair was tangled and mussed. Her legs were kicking furiously in a wild staccato into his lower back, urging him on to greater and deeper surges. John's entire body glistened from his exertion, and occasionally he dipped his mouth down, and planted leechlike kisses on his wife's body, leaving a black and blue imprint of teeth on her soft flesh.

Carla dug her knuckles into her mouth to try and stifle the cry that was threatening to erupt when she first caught sight of John's huge penis as it withdrew from Iris' hot moist cunt. Her eyes bulged as they drank in the length of it. She couldn't believe that it could be so thick, so huge. She had never seen a male penis before — not even a picture of one and she had no idea that it could get so big. A strange new sensation caught hold of her body as she gazed at the skewering instrument — the blue venous underside, the angry red blood-engorged head. She noticed his balls dangling obscenely down between his legs and she thought she could see them throb with the weight of their lewd liquid. She watched in amazement as she saw John suddenly grasp Iris' legs and raise them up till they dangled over his shoulders. For a moment, he gazed at the salacious view of her unprotected crotch that this position afforded him, and as he did so, Carla could also see the whole of Iris' upraised pelvis.

Even from outside the window, Carla could see the hungry clasping hole of her cunt, opening and closing, trying to suck in anything that ventured near. She could see that the outer lips were swollen in passion, and the tip of her reddish clitoris was visibly quivering through the hair-lined flanges.

Then John plowed forward once more, sinking his rod all the way into Iris' upraised cunt.

"Hhhhnnnn," Iris moaned as the hardened head of her husband's prick slammed against her cervix, now exposed to assault from the unnaturalness of this new position.

Mesmerized, Carla watched as John surged forward again and again, his hands digging into Iris' buttocks, holding her in a love-locked vise.

Carla ran her tongue over her lips. Suddenly, her mouth was dry, and she felt hot and clammy all over. There was a curious burning sensation between her legs and she clamped her thighs together in an effort to quench it. Beads of perspiration broke out on her upper lip, and she felt dizzy. But she couldn't bear not to watch the lewd sight — she had to see everything. Her eyes still glued to the frantically fucking inside, she began to sway slightly in time to their furious rocking. Of its own accord, her hand flew to her small budding breasts, as yet unconfined by a bra, and gently began to massage the tiny nipples, which were beginning to involuntarily throb and ache. With a slow circular movement, she moved her palm over her awakening buds, bringing a little relief to her trembling body.

But her relief was short-lived. Yielding to the ache in her breasts had only served to increase the fire that was now suddenly burning like wildfire down between her legs. Frantically, she dropped her hand to her pubic mound, and pressed it against the quivering flesh.

She knew she should go now — that the scene inside was too much for her. But try as she would, she could not convince herself to leave the sight of the couple hungrily fucking inside. The fire raging between her legs was all-consuming. Casting a quick look around, she was relieved to see no one in sight.

Hastily, she dropped her hand and raised the hem of her short summer shift. Inch by inch, her hand crept up to the passion, moistened point of her desire. She slipped a finger inside the leg of her panties, and then gasped with relief as it made contact with the already moist flesh. Tentatively, she probed through the sparse, baby-fine hair, and stroked the outer lips gently. She stroked in time to the rhythm of the bucking bodies in the bedroom, and her eyes never left their wildly writhing figures. But she knew that what she was doing would never be enough. She would have to go further — she had to do something to control the burning searing fire raging out of control deep in her white young belly.

Sometimes, at night, or in the bath, she had played experimentally with her genitals, not really sure of what she was doing, and once or twice, she had touched the electric button of her clitoris. But always, fear of discovery and fear of what would happen had prevented her from going any further. Now, she knew that she wanted to go further — she had to have the relief that additional probing would bring.

Carla's breath was coming in short gasps as she searched in the warm hidden folds of her virginal cunt. With a tiny moan, she found the throbbing hardened tip of her clitoris, and began to stroke the erotic button. Shivers of ecstasy raced through her as she caressed the tiny fleece hidden bud. Her eyes dimmed and she could only make out the blur of Iris and John as they jerked against each other. Through the mist of her eyes, she could see Iris thrust her pelvis up, arching her back and raising both their bodies up off the bed. Every muscle and cord was tensed in her supple body as she rose to meet John's insurge. John was perspiring freely now and his breathing became a series of heavy pants.

A warm flush enveloped Carla's young body as she stroked her awakened clitoris in time to John's rhythmic sawing, and her other hand freely manipulated her breasts through the material of her dress. Rivulets of perspiration ran down her inner thighs, and she felt damp patches on her miniskirt. She could barely control the countless mewls which were escaping from her throat. Suddenly, angered by the impeding material of her dress, she bunched it up around her waist, and reluctantly removing her hand from her aching breasts, held it there. Impatiently, she eased the wet panties down over her slender hips, until they fell to just above her knees. All caution left her — nothing mattered but the fiery tingling deep in her young loins.

Tentatively, she tested the tight resisting ring of her cunt with her middle finger. The tender flesh felt moist and elastic under her touch and she pushed gently at the unwilling entrance. She winced from the pain as she probed the fleshy petallike opening, and slowly, she insinuated the tip inside the warm, wet little hole.

Chills and shivers ran up and down her back like icy fingers, raising goose bumps all over her, which created a tingle over her entire body, and contrasted almost painfully with the warmth of her skin.

The cries from the bedroom were now more strangled and more intense and suddenly, Carla could stand it no longer! With a deep-throated grunt, she rammed her entire finger up into the virginal orifice between her legs. Gasping from the novel contact, she rotated her finger harder up inside the steaming sheath. She felt the warm walls of her pussy close in on her finger and sighed as her rummaging sent new spasms of joy shooting through her. Then, she inserted another finger, and then another, until all three were stretching around in her secret depths. The fire was quenched at last, but a new, more searing sensation took its place — growing hunger reared up and threatened to overpower her. Desperately, she finger fucked herself and tears of frustration came to her eyes as she realized that they were not enough — she needed more inside her. Greedily, she stared at the huge fleshy pole which was tearing into Iris' cunt, and anger welled up in her. She wanted that cock inside her, that's why the ache would not go away; she wished, oh, how she wished that it was she who was twisting and flailing nakedly wider the man's rod!

Closing her eyes, Carla tried to imagine what it would be like to have him fucking her — to feel his weight rocking above her. But all she could feel was the inadequacy of her own fingers, and she moaned softly outside their bedroom window. She could feel the waves of heat gathering momentum inside her. She was out of control now. She didn't know what was happening and she didn't care. She opened her eyes again, and fastened them once more on the monster cock plowing into Iris. She saw her cunt cling hungrily to its width as it withdrew, the delicate pink hair-fringed edges pulling out with it, unwilling to let it go, even for a moment.

Again, she closed her eyes, thinking only of John's engorged cock, sawing in and out, his balls pounding against her anus, his fingers digging into the flesh of her buttocks, her arms locked around his neck, her legs hanging over his shoulders, her naked vagina, upraised and defenseless before his ceaseless surging…

"Aaaaaaggggghhhhh! Oh, God, I'm ccuummiiinnnggg!"

Carla's eyes flew open. The unearthly shriek had come from the bedroom. She saw Iris bucking and jerking like a wild woman, her head flailing from side to side, her mouth wide open, her eyes rolling. Another groan pierced the twilight stillness — this time a low, male groan and then she saw John lurching uncontrollably into Iris as spasm after spasm overtook him, his testicles jerking as they pumped their hot, scalding sperm deep up into her belly.

Something was happening to her, too. The heat was a furnace now and cloud after cloud of it swept through her. Her hips were jerking strangely, and she felt as if she were drifting… her head spun around, and involuntarily her fingers dug deeper and deeper into her. And then the head cloud burst, raining sparks on her. She heard a mewling — was it herself? — and she felt a warm wetness on her fingers and running down her inner thighs. It felt so good — she wanted this new feeling to go on forever. Finally, it stopped, and a strange peace took over. Her body still quivered and she opened her eyes. It was quite dark now — as if it had turned dark suddenly when her eyes were closed. She looked into the room. John was lying over Iris, whose legs were still spread. They seemed to be asleep. Carla could see a thin stream of sticky white liquid seeping out from between Mrs. Harrault's legs, and there was a look of utter tranquility on her face.

Carla smoothed down her dress and pulled up her panties. Hardly daring to breathe, she crept back towards the dormitory building. She felt different — more knowledgeable, more grownup. She knew she would never be the same again, but she didn't care.

Maybe camp won't be so bad this year after all, she smiled to herself as she let herself quietly into the dormitory.

Chapter Two

It was a scorching hot day and Endwood Camp was still. It was Saturday — the "Do Your Own Thing" day at the camp. The girls were all in the nearby village, with the exception of Carla, who was swimming.

The camp was dedicated to providing as free an environment as possible, and the girls' days were virtually unstructured. Of course, riding instruction was available from Iris, who was an excellent horsewoman, and swimming was taught by John, who had been a college 100-meter champion.

A woman from the village came every day to cook and clean, and she left every evening at six. There was a good library in the lounge, plus television and records. Occasionally, Iris or John organized nature walks, which were popular, or they all played tennis or handball on the lawn. But the favorite pastimes were swimming and riding.

There were six permanent horses at the camp — all mares, all part Arabian. There was one other horse, Conquest, a stallion, which belonged to Iris, and no one else ever rode him. He was completely Arabian, and only stood fifteen hands. But he was the joy of Iris' life, and this morning, she happily lead him in from the pasture. John didn't want to ride with her, so she decided not to saddle Conquest. She put on a simple snaffle bridle, and set off towards the woods.

It was much cooler in the shade, and Conquest trotted briskly along, interested, as usual, in everything. Iris wore only her swimsuit, a blue two-piece, and was glad she did, because even in the forest it was still warm.

A sense of well-being pervaded her — she always felt that way after a night of lovemaking with John. She thought it was worth it, sometimes, to be without John for a week. Homecoming was so good!

Iris breathed in the cool redolent air of the forest. Everywhere, life was bursting out. Birds sang in the treetops and flew back and forth. Chipmunks chattered on the ground, scurrying for nuts. The edges of the bridle path were dotted with clumps of daisies and milkweed, and Iris could see here and there the brilliant blue of early gentians nestling among their leaves. Deep in the forest as far as the eye could see, the peach-colored leaves of the swamp roses brightened the many shades of green.

She patted Conquest's gray neck as they trotted along, and he, sensing her increasing relaxation, slowed to a walk. She smiled to herself when she remembered how John had objected at first to her keeping a stallion. He was afraid she couldn't handle him, and wanted her to have him gelded, but she couldn't bear the thought. She knew that he wasn't good enough for a stud, but somehow, keeping him whole made all the difference to her.

A familiar feeling of warmth and peace stole over her. The rhythmic motion of the horse lulled her into a hazy fog, and she shifted slightly and pressed her crotch further down onto the horse's bony back.

Smiling to herself, she reached back and unbuttoned her swimsuit top. Her firm breasts leapt happily into the cool air, and the nipples hardened immediately. Resting the reins on Conquest's neck, she fondled her breasts, aware of their tanned beauty. She lay forward, stretching her body along the animal's neck. Her breasts hung down, one on either side of his neck, and his wiry mane tickled the valley between the full, down-hanging orbs. Conquest walked very slowly now, and whickered softly as he felt their feathery warmness brush against his furry skin. Iris raised her hands and pressed each breast in towards the smooth gray sides of his long neck.

"Mmmmmmm," she sighed, his slow jaunting motion stroking her breasts tantalizingly. She flexed her pubis and the horse's dorsal bone made delicious contact with her clitoris through the fabric of her swimsuit. A tremor ran through her, from head to toe, and she murmured softly: "Good boy, Conquest, good boy…"

Her eyes still closed, and her mind in a sensuous daze, rider and horse drifted aimlessly through the woods.

John was busy with the accounts. He would liked to have gone riding with Iris, although he couldn't stand the way she was always talking to and petting her horse, as if he were human. But the nagging thought of all the paperwork he had to do weighed heavily on him and he knew he wouldn't enjoy the ride, no matter what the circumstances. He was dressed only in loose-fitting Bermudas, and sipping a can of beer, he settled down to his task. He knew that everybody was away, so he had hopes of getting all his work done before dinner.

He was deeply engrossed in debits and credits when he heard a slight knock on the door. Without looking up, he said: "Come in!"

He went on calculating, and completely forgot to look up, until he heard a sultry voice say: "Boy, you sure look busy!"

He glanced up and saw the young girl, Carla.

"Hello Carla!" he said cheerfully, smiling at her. "Yep, I'm busy all right, trying to make ends meet!"