'Take my panties off!' Carla hissed.
'But Carla…'
'No buts! I'll tell Iris…'
Slowly, Nancy began to tug at the damp panties and inched them down over Carla's hips. When they were halfway down to her knees, Carla once more grabbed her friend's wrist and pushed her hand up towards her heated young pussy.
'Oh, hurry, Nancy…' Carla mumbled through clenched teeth. 'I can't stand it much longer…'
Tentatively, she began to stroke the other girl's moist, desire-quivering pussy, and probed slightly at the swollen fleece-lined folds.
'Aaaaaaahhhhhmmmmmmmmm,' Carla sighed, as shiver after thrill tingled through her.
Nancy felt the hardened, engorged button of Carla's clitoris and jabbed her finger experimentally at it.
'Uhhhnnnhhhhh,' Carla moaned, her hips beginning to jerk.
Nancy was afraid. All this was new to her. She knew that what they were doing was wrong, and she hoped that Carla wouldn't make her do it again.
'Ohhhh, Nancyyyyyyy,' Carla moaned again, as she spasmodically jerked against Nancy's probing finger.
To her surprise, Nancy felt a gush of warmness flowing down over her fingers, and drew them back. Carla's mouth was open, and her eyes were closed. Her head was thrown back and her hands were clutching frenziedly at her breasts. Nancy gaped at her friend, and began to cry softly.
'Carla, Carla…' she whined.
Finally, Carla opened her eyes. She looked at Nancy, who was whimpering, staring back at her with frightened eyes.
'Oh, Nancy, that was so good!' Carla said warmly.
'Good? Oh, Carla, I was so afraid…'
'Why? You were great!'
'Oh, Carla, you won't tell on me, will you?'
'Of course not, Nancy,' Carla answered. 'You're my friend.'
'You're my friend, too, Carla. My very best friend.'
Hand in hand, the two girls slipped back to the dormitory.
Chapter Four
John and Iris had just finished breakfast, and it was another silent meal. The warm sun filtered in through the kitchen window as they sat drinking their coffee.
'Look, Iris,' John said suddenly, 'I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry! I don't know what else to say or do, but we can't go on like this!'
'Maybe you can't, but I can,' she said icily. She looked at him with loathing, her eyes burning into his face, causing a flush of embarrassment to rise. Her every look seemed to emanate disgust, and John felt himself squirming under her cold stare.
'Oh, please honey… it'll never happen again. I don't know what came over me!'
'I'm not interested in your explanations, and that's that! Now, excuse me,' she said, getting up. 'I'm going for a ride!'
Her iciness and cruelty really angered John.
'That's right!' he yelled, 'Go for a ride. You'll probably get that nag to fuck you!'
'If I did,' she replied coolly, 'he'd probably be a damn sight better than you!'
'You fucking bitch…' he shouted, starting after her. But the door slammed in his face. Dejected, he slumped back in his chair, and finished his coffee.
Four days had passed since the day he'd lost his temper and spanked her — four long, cold unbearable days. He didn't know what he was going to do; he just knew he couldn't keep on like this.
He walked slowly out to the office, and wearily sat down in the chair. His dispirited frame of mind had accomplished one thing, though — all the paperwork was up to date. But now he had nothing to do! Christ, why did this have to happen to me, he thought glumly. What's wrong with her anyway? Was what I did so horrible? She had it coming! Making a big thing out of nothing, just like she always does. Well, who needs her?
A knock on the door shook him out of his angry thoughts.
'Come in,' he said wearily.
'I'd like some help with my backstroke, please, Mr. Harrault.'
It was Carla.
This time, she was wearing a more modest yellow two-piece bathing suit, and her dark hair was pulled back. She looked young and sweet and innocent — could this be the girl who was willing to strip for me a few days ago? John thought as he glanced at her.
'Sure, Carla,' he replied, 'I'll go change and be right back.'
Minutes later, he came out, wearing checked swimming trunks.
They walked silently out to the pasture. They caught two bay mares, and decided not to bother saddling them. They set off at a trot, and then cantered when they got to the shady woods.
John felt himself beginning to relax. A swim would be good after all the days he had put in at the office and it was fun to be with someone who would at least talk to a guy! They reached the lake, and John dismounted.
'Oh, let's not swim here! The rest of the girls will be here soon, and I don't want them to see how bad my backstroke is!'
John hesitated. They had a rule that all the girls were to swim in this area, but, hell, he thought, what's the harm in going somewhere else, especially since I'm with her. I can understand how she feels about not wanting the others to see her.
'Okay Carla! Let's try further down the lake.'
John mounted his mare again, and they set off, cantering through the water.
When they had made almost a complete half-circle of the lake, Carla, who was leading, stopped.
'Let's try here, Mr. Harrault. There's a waterfall!'
Sure enough, a small waterfall cascaded over some rocks. The area was shaded by pine trees, and the opposite shore of the lake was not visible from the little grove where they dismounted. Tying the horses to a tree in the shade, they walked down to the water's edge.
John was beginning to feel really good. The ride in the fresh air had revived him, and now he welcomed the solitude of the spot they had chosen.
Running on ahead, he splashed around in the cool water and turning to Carla, called: 'C'mon, last one in's a…'
He gasped. He couldn't believe it! Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He blinked them, but it was still the same. She had taken off the top of her swimming suit!
His mouth hung open. He tried to speak, but no words would come out. His eyes were fixated on her firm young breasts, sweeping up proudly, the nipples still dormant in their brownish-pink beds.
'Carla!' he finally managed to say, 'what do you think you're doing?'
'I'm going for a swim, silly!' she teased.
'Put your top back on!' he ordered, sounding as gruff as he could.
'Oh, John,' she pouted, 'don't be a spoilsport! It feels wonderful to swim with my breasts free!'
'Oh, all right,' he said reluctantly noticing her use of his first name. Turning, he dove into the clear water, a precise shallow dive, and surfaced many yards beyond the shore.
Looking around, he saw that Carla was swimming out to him, using a very practiced overarm stroke. When she finally reached him, he said: 'Okay water baby, now let's see how bad your backstroke really is!'
Her reply was to press firmly on his unsuspecting head, sending him sputtering underwater. Skillfully regaining his breath, he swam silently and then suddenly pulled at her dangling legs, yanking the shrieking young girl under water with him. Her arms thrashed wildly as he pulled her, and he could see the hardened points of her
