by Alyse Zaftig
So I stick out my tongue and lick him on an upstroke.
He roars as he shoots his come on my face, on my tits, on my neck, everywhere.
When he’s done, he kisses me gently.
“You’re so perfect for me, Camilla. I love you.”
I’m crying now. The bath water is getting cold. I smell like strawberries and regret. I’m sad that I want someone who won’t take my virginity. I don’t think I mean much to him. Kelly lost hers to a boyfriend when she was sixteen, but I’ve held onto mine. It’s always been a fantasy of mine that I’d lose it to Lincoln.
Stupid girl.
He doesn’t care about me. He wants me to find someone who loves me, which means that he definitely doesn’t. The only time he’ll ever tell me that he loves me is in my daydreams.
My tears are dripping down my cheeks and into the bath water. I pull the plug out of the drain and watch the suds slide down the drain, just like all my hopes and dreams.
Camping
Camilla
ONE YEAR AGO
“I’m going to scout that unmarked trail that the volunteers told us about. I’ll be back in three hours. You two make dinner, okay?” My dad likes alone time, so it’s not a surprise that he’s disappearing for a little while. He likes to leave me by myself for a while on the weekends.
But this time, I’m not alone.
“Sure,” Lincoln tells him cheerfully. “We’ll make dinner before you get back.”
“Are you sure it’s safe? I mean, they just cut it. Not a lot of people have used it lately.”
“It’s fine,” my dad says. “Just grill some trout and I’ll be back before you know it. We still have some sweet potatoes left. I’ll be back before dark.”
He walks into the forest. I can see his backpack get smaller and smaller as he goes deeper into the forest, and then he turns and the trees hide him. I can still hear him walking, but the sound is fading.
And now I’m alone with his best friend, also known as my lifelong crush. When I was five, I told everyone at my birthday party that my birthday wish was to marry Lincoln, which made everyone there hysterical. Except for his mean fiancée, Marcia. She gave me the stink eye and spent the rest of my birthday party drinking a lot of wine. She only lasted for a week after that, though. Link hadn’t ever said much about it, other than that she was totally psycho.
“I’ll grill the trout if you take care of the sweet potatoes.”
“Deal.”
I bend over to hunt through our supplies. It takes me a minute to finally find the bag of sweet potatoes, which is a lot smaller than I thought it would be. There’s a roll of aluminum foil next to it. When I turn around with the bag of sweet potatoes and foil in my hands, I can see Lincoln staring at me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He swallows. “I need to get the salt and pepper from our supplies.”
He kneels down to grab the seasoning for the fish. It’s simple, but my dad told me that he prefers freshly caught mountain trout to any meal from a fancy restaurant.
That’s why we’re out here. It’s supposed to be my eighteenth birthday celebration, but really it’s an excuse for my dad to run away from his life as a corporate big shot and go fishing in the woods. He’s constantly surrounded by people at work, so he loves to hear the sounds of nature when nobody’s near him.
We work in silence for a moment, side by side next to the small campfire. I’m wrapping the sweet potatoes completely in foil so I can put them at the edges of the campfire. Technically, the sweet potatoes are supposed to cook in the ashes, but my dad has never been patient enough to wait to do them separately.
“I think that it’s okay now.” Lincoln stands up. The fish are on a spit, roasting above the fire. The smell of cooking fish and burning wood fills the little clearing where we have our tents.
“Now we wait.” The campfire isn’t that big or that hot, so it’ll slowly cook everything. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“What do you want to do while we wait? Play cards?” Lincoln looks at me like I’m the little girl he taught to play Go Fish.
“I’m going to take a nap.” I smile at him and go into my tent. I open my jeans. I can’t make a sound, but being so close to my crush is killing me. I don’t really date. No high school boy could ever compare to Lincoln.
His scent mingled with the smell of our campfire turned me on. To be honest, his scent would turn me on without the fire.
I put my hand on my most sensitive spot and closed my eyes.
“On your hands and knees.”
I hesitate.
“I’m not going to ask you twice.” His voice is soft, but the tone doesn’t leave room for resistance.
I bend over the log that we pulled next to the campfire. I can feel the hard wood under my soft stomach. My hands are in the dirt.
I can feel his hands under me, unbuttoning my pants, unzipping them, and pulling them and my underwear down. The wind touches me between my thighs, a gentle caress that makes me a little cold. I shiver.
His huge hand settles on one soft ass cheek.
“I’ve been watching this ass swing while we’ve been hiking all day.” Without warning, his hand comes down to strike me.
I cry out, startled and in a little pain. The pain mingles with pleasure as he softly strokes me where he just hit me.
“You like that.” A finger is testing me, pushing inside of me. I’m soaking wet.
Then he’s sliding my wetness up to travel to my back door.
“Oh! Please don’t!” I yelp. “Don’t touch me there.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice like black magic. “Relax, baby.”
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath and relax as his finger explores my back hole. Then he’s pushing the tip of one finger inside of me. I don’t know if I like it. I moan as he stimulates places inside of me that I didn’t even know existed.
A climax hits me like a semi-truck going 20 over the speed limit. No warning, but my body is soaring from the impact.
I open my eyes and hope I didn’t make too much noise while I touched myself. I hunt for my makeup remover wipes to clean off my hand, which smells like me now. I ball up the wipe and shove it into my trash bag. I hope my dad never knows what I did. If he ever knew that I fantasized about his best friend putting a finger up my ass, he’d probably check me into an insane asylum or something.
Cold Water
Lincoln
Camilla is in her tent taking a nap while her dad is out, which means that I have a rare moment to myself. I take a look at the food that’s cooking. If it turns into a raging bonfire, Camilla will notice. Or she’ll be asleep and all of our gear will go up in smoke.
It’s pretty small, though, and we sheltered it from the wind. I don’t waver when I pour some water on it. The fish is done anyway, and the sweet potatoes will be fine in the ashes.
I had gotten hard watching Camilla bend over, and my erection hadn’t gone away. I’m lucky that her dad didn’t come back, because he probably would’ve slaughtered me and left my body for the bears if he understood how I felt about his daughter. A daughter who was growing more beautiful and womanly by the day. If I didn’t want to spontaneously combust, I’d need to take care of some things.
There is a mountain stream just two minutes from camp. If Camilla needs me, I am within screaming distance.
When I’m right next to the stream, I strip. It isn’t deep, but it is cold. Ice melt is never that nice. I try to pour ice water over my dick, but it refuses to go down. Looks like I have a date with my hand.
It’s past midnight, and my buddy is sleeping off all the Jack that we drank. I’m wide awake, and the alcohol has wiped away my scruples. He’s snoring away in our tent, so I unzip the opening and go out to Camilla’s tent. I unzip it as quietly as I can. I can see just a little slow, steady movement in the scanty moonlight that tells me that she’s breathing deeply, sleeping like an angel.
I lay down on top of her sleeping bag. I put a hand over her mouth and lean in. I whisper in her ear. “Camilla, wake up.”
Her eyes are barely open. She’s saying something muffled by my hand.
“Camilla, you have to be quiet.” I thrust my erection at her. Even through the sleeping bag, she can feel it. She stills.
“Camilla, I’m going to let go. If you don’t want this, tell me now. Otherwise, stay quiet.”
I take my hand away. All I can hear is the hooting of an owl. Her breaths are coming faster and faster.
I have my answer. I pull apart her sleeping bag, yanking down her pajama pants and underwear. I pull her legs over my shoulders so I can pile drive her. If we had privacy, I’d take my time. Her father, my best friend, is sleeping only feet away. Tent walls aren’t much of a barrier.
One hand goes between her legs. She’s wet enough for me to take right now, but I rub her for a few minutes anyway. I can tell from her heavy breathing that she’s trying very hard not to make any noise. Neither of us wants to get busted.
I stop rubbing her and guide my dick inside of her tight pussy. She’s incredibly warm on a cool night like this. I feel like I’m sinking into a sauna.
I hear her panting very quietly. I thrust all the way, and I hear a muffled gasp. Then I can’t hold myself back any longer and begin to swing my hips as quietly as I can, getting as deep as I can. Her muscles are contracting around me, fluttering, as I hold back my own groan of completion. She’s filled with my come. I want her to keep it, but I know that there’d be hell to pay if she smelled like me tomorrow morning.
I fumble in the corner for those wet wipes that she brought with her, the ones that we’ve been using to wipe our hands before eating. I clean her between her thighs before wiping myself off. I throw the wipe into the garbage bag she keeps in her tent.
“Don’t tell anyone.” She’s still half-naked under me and my dick wants her again, but we’ve taken enough risks for tonight.
I disengage her legs from my shoulders, then I lean down to kiss her, slow and soft. She kisses me back timidly at first, then she pushes her tongue inside of my mouth.
And she’s not an innocent little girl anymore. Yeah, she’s eighteen, but she’s a woman.
When I open my eyes, I’m standing in a cold mountain stream that’s carried away my come. I shake myself off and put on my clothes, even though I’m still a little wet. I walk back to camp.
It’s so damned inconvenient to want my best friend’s little girl. Maybe it’s just the prolonged exposure, having to be in close quarters all the time. I wonder if any of the women in my little black book would mind being called Camilla while we fuck.
Dress Hunt
Camilla
NOW
I rinse off, then I find my ratty pajamas. They’re really old but the most comfortable clothing that I own. They’re pink, but sort of a grayish pink after all this time. I should’ve thrown them away years ago, but they make me feel safe.
I tuck myself into bed with my Kindle, arranging my pillows so I’m in a cozy nest. Then I hear the garage door open. My dad is home.
“Where are you, Sunshine?”
I get out of bed and go to the mezzanine. “Here, Dad.”
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No. I’m not very hungry.”
“I thought that we’d celebrate your last day of working. It’ll be good for us to spend time together before you have to go back to school. I made a reservation for seven at your favorite place, that Italian restaurant. I invited Lincoln.”
Oh, shit.
He sees my face. “Something wrong, Sunshine?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I’ll just get changed and we can head out.”
I go into my room and throw open my closet. What’s appropriate for a celebratory dinner with my father and his best friend, the one who almost fucked me today but stopped because I am a virgin?
I hate everything in my closet. The periwinkle blue dress makes me look like I’m 12. I have a royal blue dress with pretty embroidery, but the neckline is too high. It’s hard, because I need a neckline low enough to tantalize Lincoln but high enough to pass my dad’s scrutiny.
I have a black dress with white stripes that I discard because they make me look wide. There’s a dress covered in flowers that makes me look like a little girl.
I don’t have anything to wear. I growl at my closet and wonder how angry my dad would be if I insisted on going to the mall to buy a new dress for tonight when our reservation is so soon.
I dig deeper into my closet. Then I see it.
The perfect dress is sitting there. I bought it on a dare from Kelly. She said that my clothes were too boring.
It sort of reminds me of a flamenco dancer’s costume, but there is a daring slit up the side that reveals a little leg when I walked. Tantalizing without actually showing anything.
I choose high-heeled ankle boots under the dress. I need three-inch heels because the skirt is so long.
I put on a very small amount of makeup. My dad knows that I didn’t wear much, so it would look weird if I showed up looking like a circus clown. I just put a little eyeliner on to emphasize my eyes, which everyone always tells me are beautiful. I look at my single tube of red lipstick but leave it alone. It’d be gone in a half minute when we started eating even if I did put it on.
I go downstairs in my ankle boots and pretty dress that looked demure until I walked. My dad is staring at his phone.
“Ready, Sunshine?”
“Ready, Dad.”
We walk into the garage. I slide into the passenger seat of his Lexus. Then we’re roaring out into the city.
Under the Table
Lincoln
I’m sitting at our table already when they arrive. He’s wearing the suit he probably wore to work today. She’s wearing a stunning dress.
Everything’s covered, but when she walks, I can see a flash of leg. I find her legs very arousing. Fuck, I find every bit of her arousing.
“Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“Nah,” I say, taking a sip of my wine. I need it to get through this dinner. It’d be too weird for me to turn it down, especially since he knows that I’m not seeing anyone right now.
They sit down across the table from me. Camilla is directly in front of me. A waiter bustles over.
“What can I get for you, sir? Miss?”
“A glass of your house red for me and some orange juice for her.”
“Right away, sir.”
“So how was your day? Busy? You’re getting your secretary Amanda back, so that’s good.”
“Yeah.” I take another sip of wine. “It’s good.”
I don’t know why, but the restaurant’s lighting is making Camilla’s face even more beautiful than usual. It is highlighting her smooth cheekbones and full lips. She looks like an ancient queen of a civilization long gone. She might be a teenager, but she looks like a woman.
“Are you glad to be going back to school, Camilla?” I ask politely. It would be weird if we didn’t speak at this dinner for the three of us.
“I’m very glad.” She smiles with just her mouth. Her eyes are angry and cold, but I don’t think that her dad has noticed. “Can’t wait to get back into the swing of college life.”
“Those were the days, huh?” My buddy nudges me. “Wild girls, crazy parties, staying out past dawn. Can’t keep up with all that anymore. You’re not drinking of course, Sunshine, right?”
“I wouldn’t tell you if I did drink, Dad.” She rolls her eyes at him, but he just laughs.
“You should keep some secrets from your old man. Just don’t turn up unmarried and pregnant on my doorstep one day and I’ll believe that I raised you right.”
Her face is getting a little pink. “I don’t…”
“I know you’re a good kid, Sunshine. I’m just teasing you.” He turns to me. “I was blessed with an incredible kid. Too bad you don’t have one of your own, you know. I thought
that you’d be married by now, but you’ve enjoyed the bachelor life. You can sow your wild oats wherever you like.”
At the mention of wild oats, I feel a gentle brush against my cock. I think that I’m imagining it until I see Camilla’s eyes. They’re fiery and angry.
The touch comes again, firmer this time. The little minx is sliding her foot up and down my dick. She’s trying to get me back for turning her down. My cock does not care. It’s rock hard and ready to go. I can already feel a little pre-come oozing out of the tip.
I try to warn her to stop with my eyes, but she’s ignoring it.
I grunt.
“You okay, Link?”
“That was my stomach,” I lie. “I’m hungry.”
“Food will be here soon enough. What do you think about the weather lately?” He launches into a monologue that I can’t keep track of because I’m breaking out in a sweat. I’m about to come under this table from her little foot rubbing up against me. I can’t move because it’ll look weird. I can’t run to the bathroom, because then everyone will see my erection proudly displayed. I grit my teeth and close my eyes as I feel myself release in my pants like a teenage boy.
I open my eyes to see victory shining in her eyes. I know that she’s mad, but I didn’t expect her revenge to be a foot job during dinner with her father. She’s diabolical. I need to clean up. My cock is softening now.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, and her father doesn’t stop for a second. “I’m going to hit the bathroom.”
Following
Camilla
I just did something bad, and I’m planning on following it up with something worse.