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.
