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From: Nick Scipio <imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Summer Camp - Book 2" by Nick Scipio - Ch 01 (mf, teen, oral, exhib, voy, mast)
Date: Wed, 15 Jan 2003 15:10:08 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 2: Gina
Part: Chapter 01
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: mf, teen, oral, exhib, voy, mast
Revision: 1.0
Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/SummerCamp2
Mailing List: Scipio_Stories-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
FAQ: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/www/faq.htm

*****************************************************************
                       STANDARD DISCLAIMER

The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT 
entertainment. It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL 
nature. If you are offended by sexually explicit content or 
language, please DO NOT read any further.

All characters in this story are fictitious; any similarity to 
any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely 
coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse 
any of the activities described in this story.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without 
the written permission of the author, Nick Scipio 
(imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com). This story may be freely 
distributed with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2003 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

*****************************************************************

Summer Camp - Book 2: Gina
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER ONE

"She was so young," my wife said, when I told her. She was as 
stunned as I was.

I nodded.

"How'd it happen?" she asked.

"Car accident. Just some random thing."

She rushed into my arms, eyes misting over, and hugged me tight 
as I held her.

"I'm so sorry, Paul," she whispered, her voice thick with 
emotion. "I know how much she meant to you."

I nodded; my eyes stung, and I blinked back tears of my own. I 
shook my head, as if doing so could ward off the tears that were 
welling up. I was a grown man, I hadn't cried in years. Many 
years.

"When's the funeral?" she asked.

I swallowed hard. "The day after tomorrow."

"Do you want the girls to go?"

I nodded. "I think so. I think it's... important."

She nodded and laid her head against my chest again, seeking 
comfort in the certainty of my body. "I'll miss her."

"Me too," I said, my voice raspy with pent-up emotion.

My chest was tight and I felt a growing knot in the pit of my 
stomach. I didn't want to believe it. A car accident. Just some 
random thing.

Random hurts.

Some time later, I don't know how long, the phone rang. My wife 
stepped back and wiped her eyes, smiling bleakly at me.

I cleared my throat and then picked up the receiver.

"Hello."

_"May I please speak to Paul Hughes?"_

"This is he."

_"Mr. Hughes, my name is Nathan Wei. I'm an attorney, and the 
executor for the estate..."_

I listened to him with only half my attention. He offered me his 
deepest condolences on my, our, loss. It sounded strictly pro 
forma, but I appreciated it nonetheless. I smiled at my wife and 
sat down heavily in my office chair. I picked up my pen, flipped 
the page on the notepad, and began writing as he talked.

It was going to be a long couple of days, and I couldn't imagine 
how we were going to tell the girls. With an inaudible sigh, I 
concentrated on the lawyer and blew a kiss to my wife. She smiled 
sadly and closed the door to my office. A short time later, after 
I'd hung up the phone, I leaned back in my chair and stared at 
the ceiling, lost in thought.

When I was in high school, and then college, so much of my life 
consisted of routine. I suppose it's the same for everyone. Even 
today, much of my life is routine. Pedestrian. Mundane. But there 
are times when the routine is broken, and these are the times by 
which we measure our lives: a kiss, a love, a graduation, the 
birth of a child, the death of a lover.

Once again, sitting at my desk in the quiet afternoon hours, I 
thought back to my past, to one of those times when the routine 
of my life was broken, and the world seemed to change, all at 
once. As you might have guessed, it was the summer of 1979. But 
there's so much to explain before I get there. In many ways, my 
life changed more during my sophomore year in high school, but 
the changes were all gradual. They're obvious to me now, but at 
the time, I hardly noticed them.

-----

When we returned from Aunt Susan's, in late August of 1978, we 
arrived at a house that hadn't been lived in for almost three 
months. Our neighbors checked on things for us and watered Mom's 
plants, and we had a service to mow the lawn, but other than 
that, the house sat dormant. So Erin and I, Mom and Dad, engaged 
in several whirlwind days of cleaning, shopping, and dealing with 
mundane things.

I suppose the routine was what I needed, but it wasn't what I 
wanted. I missed Susan more in those first few days than I 
thought I could miss anyone. I'd had some time, and some 
separation, from Gina, Kendall, and Stacy, which had blunted some 
of my sense of loss. But Susan was still fresh in my memory. 
While I didn't exactly mope around the house, I certainly didn't 
have a lot of enthusiasm for anything I did.

The stack of letters from Gina was the one bright spot in our 
return home. She'd written. _A lot_. The first few days after her 
family's return from camp, she wrote me two, and sometimes three 
letters a day. I started sorting the letters by their postmarks, 
but after the first few, she started sequentially numbering the 
envelopes, which made things _much_ easier.

At first, she mostly talked about how much she missed me, and how 
much she loved me. As I read them, I thought about how much I 
missed her as well, and how much I loved her. She also had about 
a million questions: about me, about what we did after her family 
left camp, about school, about our house, about just about 
everything in the world. I guess it must have been hard on her, 
writing all those letters, without the hope of a reply from me 
for at least a month.

As soon as I had the chance, I sat down and started writing her a 
letter. I read through her letters again, and started picking out 
the questions. When I found one, I'd turn to my own letter, tell 
her what she'd asked me about, and then answer her. I guess I 
must have been a little bit of a writer even then, because I 
quickly had 16 pages of college-rule paper filled with my 
response.

I told her about what we did after she left, and about how cool 
Erin was, helping me deal with being a little depressed. I told 
her that Kendall had been a really good friend, and that I could 
tell that Kendall really respected her. I didn't want to talk 
about Kendall too much, but I did want Gina to know some of the 
details. I didn't come right out and write that Kendall liked me 
but that nothing had happened, but I did try to write about what 
Kendall and I had talked about--the everyday stuff at least.

I also wrote a lot about my life, ordinary stuff like what my 
room was like, what our house was like, and stuff like that. 
Finally, I decided that it was more than enough for a first 
letter. By the time I was done, I had almost 22 pages! Mom helped 
me hunt down an envelope large enough to mail it in, and we 
dropped it off at the Post Office. (Neither of us knew how much 
postage it would take to send it, so we couldn't just drop it in 
our mailbox.)

After that first rush of letters, Mom, Erin, and I had a lot to 
do to get ready for school. We had new clothes to shop for 
(something I hated, nothing ever fit me well), new shoes to buy, 
and school supplies to purchase. Those tasks occupied more than a 
week of our time, and it seemed that every day, the three of us 
had to head out to a different store. Each day, we'd come home 
laden with shopping bags.

Finally, the day after Labor Day, school started. I saw friends 
that I hadn't seen over the summer, and that was nice, but I also 
came home with an armload of books and lots of homework! On the 
first day of school! I could tell that school had started for 
Gina as well, since I didn't get a letter from her for almost a 
week.

She was taking as many Honors classes as she could, and had a lot 
of homework and reading to do. Most of my classes were just 
regular classes, but at the end of my freshman year, Mom had 
talked me into taking an Honors English class. I'd regretted it 
at the time, but as I started reading and writing for class, I 
realized that I was enjoying myself.

Things finally settled down into a routine. Gina and I wrote 
three or four letters a week, fewer when we were both busy, and 
more when we had some free time. After the rush of emotion and 
longing in the first few weeks, we quickly started talking about 
our lives, friends, and school.

Gina eventually admitted to me that she'd told her best friend, 
Lisa, about everything that had happened over the summer. And I 
mean _everything_. I was shocked nearly to the point of apoplexy. 
It seemed that Lisa had decided that I was a guy worthy of her 
best friend, however, so I calmed down a little. Lisa also knew 
that Gina's family was nudist, and I guess if she could be 
trusted with that information, Gina could trust her about us.

I didn't have a best friend, per se, but there was a group of us 
who hung out together. Our group was mostly guys who I'd met at 
the end of eighth grade, when we'd first moved to Atlanta. I 
spent most of my free time, before school and at lunch, with 
Scott Anderson, Tony Malone, Scotty Taylor, and Kelly Duchesne.

None of them knew about where our family spent our summer 
vacations, though I did eventually tell them that I had a 
girlfriend. When I couldn't produce Gina for inspection, or any 
pictures of her, most of the guys decided she was just a figment 
of my imagination. For a little while, I argued with them about 
it. But I steadfastly refused to show them any of Gina's letters, 
even though they would have easily proven her existence. I guess 
I didn't want any of those guys reading what Gina and I had to 
say to each other.

The funny thing is, I used to think that they were all getting 
lucky with girls, and that I was the only one who was missing 
out. After all that I'd learned the previous summer, I started 
listening to their banter, and I quickly realized that most of 
them had _no_ clue about girls, much less about sex itself.

The one exception was Scott. He'd had a steady girlfriend since 
I'd known him, a girl named Shannon Ellsworth. He never talked 
about what he did with her, and whenever any of the other guys 
teased him about it, he'd say that he and Shannon hadn't done 
anything more than fool around a little.

But as the other guys would talk about their "experiences" with 
girls, he'd roll his eyes the same times that I did. I wondered 
why I hadn't noticed it before. He quickly figured out that I 
wasn't buying into the other guys' bullshit like I had when we 
were freshmen. Tony, Scotty, and Kelly never noticed, however, 
that Scott and I didn't talk much about our experiences with 
girls. But he knew, and I knew, and we both kept our mouths shut.

Another thing that changed for me was that I discovered I could 
talk to girls, and that it didn't make me tongue-tied or nervous. 
A year before, I'd have been way too shy to do more than shuffle 
my feet if confronted by a girl. I guess that's why most of my 
friends were guys. After all that I'd been through, and all that 
I'd learned, I guess I realized that girls were mostly as scared 
and nervous as guys were. And when you know the girl is as 
nervous as you are, it gets easier to talk to them.

I think another thing that helped was the fact that whenever I 
talked to a girl, I wasn't really interested in getting into her 
pants. I don't know how, but girls have a kind of Distant Early 
Warning system to detect guys who're putting the moves on them, 
no matter how subtle the guy thinks he's being. It's like they 
can smell desperation or something. I don't know what it is, but 
it's uncanny.

So while I did talk to a lot more girls, I didn't have a 
girlfriend. I still masturbated like a fiend, at night and in the 
mornings, but I wanted to stay faithful to Gina. I couldn't 
really explain it, but it's what felt _right_. So I wasn't after 
any of the girls at school.

The odd thing that I noticed was that at parties, football games, 
or school dances, I had more girls around me than almost all of 
my friends put together. I quickly got the idea that several of 
them would even say yes if I asked them out.

Shannon, Scott's girlfriend, got me alone one night at a school 
football game and asked me about it. She wanted to know if I was 
interested in one of her friends. She hinted pretty strongly that 
her friend Amy Lassiter might be interested in me. She also 
dropped hints that a few of her other friends might be interested 
in me as well, if maybe I didn't like Amy.

I was more than a little shocked, so I told her about Gina. 
Shannon asked me where Gina lived, what she was like, how I'd met 
her, and a dozen other questions. I told her the truth. What I 
could tell of it, that is. Unlike the guys, Shannon immediately 
realized that Gina was real, that I was telling the truth, and 
that I was serious about being faithful.

When the word got out, I figured it would deter most of the girls 
who might be interested in me. The crazy thing is, it only seemed 
to make me _more_ of a target for female attention. I was 
bewildered by the entire phenomenon. I liked the attention, don't 
get me wrong, but I really did just want to be friends with the 
girls that I knew.

Shannon seemed to understand, and so did her friend Amy. Scott 
had seen the difference in me as well. That, coupled with his 
girlfriend's quiet assurance, seemed to settle things between us.

I did think Amy was really cute, though. She was petite, maybe an 
inch over five feet tall, and waiflike. Her breasts were very 
small, and she had narrow hips, but she also had a smile that lit 
up a room, and her hair was a natural honey-blonde. Under other 
circumstances, I'd have loved to maybe take her to a dance or 
something, but she understood that the two of us could only be 
friends.

One of the big changes in my life was because of Scott. His dad 
flew for the same airline mine did, so he knew what it was like 
to have a father with a pretty irregular schedule. Scott's father 
had been a pilot in the Air Force, and his family had lived in 
Germany for two years. When they returned to the States, Scott 
ended up repeating second grade. He was actually a really smart 
guy; he'd simply been held back because of the fact that he 
hadn't begun school in the US school system. I thought that it 
was tremendously unfair, but Scott was mostly okay with it. The 
one thing it did mean was that while the rest of us were 15, 
Scott was 16. That meant that he could drive.

The problem was, Shannon's parents wouldn't let her car date 
alone with Scott until she was 16. The easy solution was to bring 
Amy along. Amy didn't want to be the third wheel, so they quickly 
recruited me. Amy knew I was serious about Gina, so we went on 
our double dates as friends. Although I suspected that Amy was 
subtly trying to lure me away from Gina, she was never overt 
about it, and we became pretty close friends. For a girl, I guess 
it's nice having a guy friend who's not constantly being a jerk 
and trying to score. But I also suspected that Amy would happily 
welcome more from me, if I chose to pursue her.

The other big thing that changed in my life was once again due to 
Scott. He was on the school wrestling team and he started 
encouraging me to try out for the squad. The 167-pound wrestler 
from the year before had been a senior and had graduated; the 
team needed a guy in that weight class. Scott wrestled in the 
145-pound weight class, and there was no way (or so he said) that 
he could "bulk up" to 167.

I actually weighed 155 pounds, but that weight class had a 
senior, a junior, and probably at least two freshman in it. 
Except for the senior, the other guys were "light" and were 
working their way up from the 145-pound weight class. So Scott 
figured I could maybe put on a little muscle and fill the 167-
pound bracket. I wasn't so sure. I was already pretty self-
conscious about my weight, and the idea of putting on more weight 
was _not_ something I relished.

I'd never been much into sports, but after two weeks of his 
subtle, and sometimes not-so-subtle pressure, I finally relented. 
I thought I'd try out just to shut Scott up, but I quickly 
realized that I liked wrestling. The practices for the first week 
were a major shock, but I liked the wrestling part of them so 
much that I gritted my teeth and kept with it.

What I discovered I liked almost as much as wrestling itself, 
much to my surprise, was lifting weights. I wasn't exactly a 98-
pound weakling, but I did have a lot of work to do to get into 
shape. Wrestling practice began in early November, and we worked 
out hard. Scott introduced me to most of the rest of the guys on 
the team, and I quickly found that I liked them. Coach Simmons 
was a good coach and really looked after us, making sure we 
practiced hard, but also making sure that we kept up with our 
schoolwork.

Each day, practice began right after school. On Mondays, 
Wednesdays, and Fridays, we ran laps around the gym to warm up, 
and then worked on wrestling moves: take-downs, reverses, 
escapes, and a myriad of other moves. After that, we did spins 
and bridges (put your feet on the ground and arch backwards until 
you're supporting yourself with your head and neck, and feet). 
Finally, we hit the weight room and worked on strength training. 
One of the older guys, a senior named Bruce Bollinger, who was 
our Varsity 185-pounder, took me under his wing and showed me how 
to build different muscle groups.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, we used rope climbing, jump ropes, and 
the peg board (it's hard to describe one of these unless you've 
seen it, but you use the pegs to climb up the wall using only 
your arms) to warm up before we actually hit the mats. After we 
worked on whatever moves we were focusing on for the day, we did 
monkey rolls, partner sit-ups, and a _lot_ of an exercise that 
involved mostly running in place. Mostly. We'd run hard, and then 
Coach Simmons would blow his whistle and we'd all sprawl (throw 
your arms and legs straight out and fall on your chest, you'll 
get the idea pretty quickly). As soon as we hit the mat, we had 
to jump back up and start running in place again. After _that_, 
we'd do spins and bridges, and then run wind sprints for the 
length of the gym.

On Saturdays, we all came to school at 11 a.m. and ran laps, and 
then hit the weight room. Saturdays were only supposed to be 2-
hour workouts, but I quickly discovered that a number of the guys 
stayed later, to work on more advanced wrestling moves. Bruce and 
Scott were both part of that group, and I found myself naturally 
drawn into their extra practice. Bruce almost always worked out 
with me, teaching me things that we didn't cover in regular 
practice. He was 20 pounds heavier than me and had made it to the 
State finals the year before, so he was quite a bit more skilled 
than I was. I worked hard to learn from him, though, and he was a 
pretty good natural instructor.

Tuesdays and Thursdays nearly killed me for the first month. My 
body is _not_ built for running, and I hated it. Mondays, 
Wednesdays, and Fridays were hard enough, but I always looked 
forward to the weight room. No matter how tired I was, I attacked 
the weights with something close to glee. Bruce was astounded 
that I had so much enthusiasm for lifting, but he cheerfully 
piled on more weight, spotting me conscientiously and making sure 
that I didn't hurt myself. But it was Saturdays that I really 
lived for. I learned a tremendous amount in that first month of 
Saturdays, and despite the fact that practices began with running 
laps, I thoroughly enjoyed them.

I wasn't a great wrestler at first, but I picked things up 
quickly. Coach Simmons told me that I'd make a fine wrestler if I 
practiced hard. At first, I think he was saying that because he 
really _did_ need a wrestler in the 167-pound weight class. But 
after he saw that I was improving, and that I was serious about 
wrestling, he began to spend more time with me, teaching me more 
than just the basics.

There were no other wrestlers on our team who were in the 167-
pound weight class, so I was a de facto member of the Varsity 
team. For our first meet, a tournament hosted by our school for 
five other schools in the area, I was excited and nervous and a 
little scared. Coach Simmons talked to me before my first match 
and tried to settle me down, but I was too high on adrenaline, 
and he knew it. He smiled at me reassuringly, straightened my 
headgear, and sent me into the ring for my first official match.

Scott and Bruce were both on the benches to the side of the mat, 
and I saw Shannon and Amy in the stands watching me. Both my mom 
and dad had come to the school gym to see me wrestle, and Erin 
was there as well. Even though she made a big show of not wanting 
to come, I think she was almost as excited as I was.

I was wrestling a junior from our rival high school. His name was 
Emmett Carstairs, and I'll never forget him. When the referee 
blew the whistle for us to begin, I didn't know what hit me. I 
literally spent the next two minutes--an eternity when you're in 
a wrestling ring, trust me--fighting for my very life. It seemed 
like I spent the entire round staring at the lights on the gym 
ceiling, straining and grunting and trying to escape from the 
eight-armed monster that seemed to be everywhere at once.

I'm sure the crowd was as noisy as it had been for any of the 
other matches I'd watched, but I heard three and only three 
things: the referee as he called out points for Emmett; Coach 
Simmons as he yelled encouragement and move suggestions; and 
Emmett, that arrogant prick, as he _told_ me what he was going to 
do to me next, and then as he gloated when he did it. It was only 
because I recognized half the things he told me he was going to 
do to me that I survived as long as I did. When he told me he was 
going to do something, and I didn't recognize the move, I knew I 
was in trouble.

Midway through the second round, Emmett tired of toying with me. 
He locked me into a cradle--a nifty little hold where he tried to 
introduce my kneecap to my forehead--put his knee in the small of 
my back to hold me in place, and neatly rolled me onto my 
shoulders. A three-count later, the referee slapped the mat and 
blew his whistle.

In retrospect, I'm actually profoundly happy that Emmett finally 
pinned me. They don't record the points if the match is decided 
by a pin, and I didn't particularly want my first official match 
to be recorded as a 13-0 loss. Except for the initial take-down 
points, Emmett got all the rest of them from near-falls. Losing 
by 13 points would've meant I really, _really_ lost the match. I 
had that little gem in my memory, did I really need it in the 
official scorebooks as well?

The rest of the two-day tournament went okay for me. I went 2-1 
after that first match with Emmett Carstairs. I won one match by 
a pin, one by points (7-2), and lost one by points (5-6). I 
discovered two very important things during our first meet. The 
first was that I needed to work on my strength training. Both 
Emmett and the other guy I'd lost to had muscled me around the 
mat. The second thing I learned was that I hated to lose. _Hated_ 
it. H-A-T-E-D, hated it.

I had always been fairly competitive, but I hadn't realized how 
much of a competitive streak I really had. I'd played volleyball 
at camp, and been on the losing team. But that was losing as a 
team. I'd played games of cards, or Monopoly, or any number of 
other games where I had lost, but most of those games involved 
some element of luck. I couldn't be lucky all the time, so I had 
accepted losing.

Wrestling was different. On the wrestling mat, there's very 
little luck involved. Nor is there a team to share the blame if 
you lose your match. Losing a wrestling match meant one and only 
one thing: I hadn't been good enough. I could accept that there 
were better wrestlers than me, and there were a _lot_ of them. 
But I couldn't stand losing because of something that I could 
fix, like being strong enough, skilled enough, or well-
conditioned.

When practice resumed on the following Monday, I went about 
things with a fierce determination. I stayed late and worked out 
in the weight room, and I even began running an extra lap or two 
around the gym. Saturday practices, I was almost always one of 
the last to leave, which meant that I kept Scott late as well, 
since I rode with him. He began to get a little peeved, and even 
tried to talk to me about it a few times. When I blew him off, I 
ended up getting Mom to drive me to and from Saturday practice.

I thought I was doing well. I won my first two Varsity matches 
after the tournament meet. One was by a pin, and the other was a 
hard-fought match where I eventually won by points. I could tell 
that I was getting stronger as well, since Bruce kept adding a 
little weight with each strength training session. I was dead 
tired when I got home most nights. After dinner, I'd do my 
homework and then collapse. I wrote to Gina less, but she seemed 
to understand that wrestling was important to me.

I kept working out, and practicing, and eventually, things 
started to fall apart. At the time, I thought things were just 
fine, that I was doing well. When I got my semester report card, 
after the Christmas break, my parents were _not_ pleased. I'd 
been working out and practicing so much that I'd let my 
schoolwork slide. I'd called Gina a couple of times, but I only 
took the time to write to her about once a week. I could tell she 
was getting a little upset about it (okay, maybe a lot upset), 
but if I wanted to be a good wrestler, I had to be serious about 
it. But it was my grades that put a match to the powder keg I'd 
turned my life into.

Coach Simmons called me into his office one day after practice. 
I'd been winning most of my matches, and I'd even had to start 
watching my diet to stay below the 2-pound-over limit for my 167-
pound weight class, so I knew I was putting on muscle. I couldn't 
imagine what he was going to tell me, but I never imagined it'd 
be bad.

"Sit down, son," he said, as soon as I'd shut the door. When I 
did, he looked at me seriously. "What in the _hell_ do you think 
you're doing?!"

My mouth went dry and I was suddenly at a loss for words.

"Son, I just got a look at your grades for the last six-weeks, 
and they are the sorriest things I think I've seen in a long 
time." He picked up a copy of my grades and brandished them in my 
direction. "One B minus, two Cs, one C minus, and two Ds. What in 
the _hell_ is this about?"

"Um... sir?"

"Don't 'um, sir' me, Hughes! The six-weeks before this, you had," 
he looked at my grades, "an A, three Bs, a B minus, and a C plus! 
Son, you're no good to me if you don't meet your academic 
requirements. Do you have an explanation for this?" Once again, 
he brandished the grades like a weapon.

"Coach... I've been practicing a lot, and working out. And I've 
been winning my matches..." It was feeble, but it was the best I 
had. I thought it would be enough.

"You've been winning your matches?!" He imitated me nearly 
perfectly. "Son, don't get me wrong, I like that you're winning, 
but I don't give shit number one about your record if you flunk 
off the team."

"Sir?"

"Hughes, have I ever told you to practice more and not pay 
attention to school?"

"No, sir."

"Haven't I always told you that school's more important than 
wrestling?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you listening when I told you that?!"

"Um... yes, sir?"

"Well it doesn't look like it!" He leaned over the desk and 
almost hit me in the face with my grades. A large vein on his 
forehead looked like it would burst at any minute. At my 
terrified look, he calmed down, somewhat. "Jesus Christ and a 
handbag, son. You've got to have balance."

"Balance, sir?"

"Balance, son. Like a hip toss."

He looked at me, but I only stared back blankly, completely 
confused.

"You know you can't lift the other guy, but you can get him in 
the air and take him down. You balance him on the point of your 
hip and you use leverage, son. You know. A hip toss."

Finally, I understood, sort of. I swallowed hard and nodded, not 
trusting myself to speak.

"Life is like that, son. You've got to have balance, or you'll 
never get the guy on the mat. You understand me?"

"I think so, Coach," I said, swallowing hard and wishing I had 
some moisture in my mouth.

"You think so?! Listen here. What's your father do?"

"He's an airline pilot."

"And your friend Scott Anderson, if he's still your friend, that 
is. What's his father do?"

"He's a pilot too, sir."

"And that girlfriend of yours, what's her father do?"

"He's a television producer," I answered automatically, thinking 
of Gina. And then I realized that Coach wasn't talking about 
Gina. "Oh, you mean Amy?"

"Yeah, cute little slip of a blonde thing. What's her daddy do?" 
he asked gruffly.

"He owns his own construction company."

"Are any of 'em professional wrestlers?"

"Coach?" I was a little confused, to say the least.

"Are any of your friends' fathers professional wrestlers?"

"No, sir."

"I didn't think so! Hell, son, even _I'm_ not a professional 
wrestler. I'm a history teacher. The only reason I'm your coach 
is that I went to Nebraska on a wrestling scholarship. But I got 
my degree in history." He started pacing behind his desk, and 
then fixed me with a steely glare. "My point, Mr. Hughes, in case 
you missed it..."

Indeed I had.

"My point is that wrestling is a good sport, it'll teach you a 
lot of the things you'll need to be successful in life, but you 
need an education if you wanna be something someday. And haven't 
I always made that clear to you boys?" He glared at me as if 
daring me to deny the truth.

I nodded quickly.

"Then get your shit together, son. I won't tell you how to run 
your life, that's your business. But I will tell you the results 
I expect you to achieve if you want to remain a member of this 
team," he growled.

At the thought of being kicked off the team, I nearly stopped 
breathing.

"I expect you to get your grades back to where they used to be. 
Better, in fact. I expect you to practice as much as anyone else 
on this team, no more, no less. I expect you to have a little 
balance, son. Are you willing to meet my expectations?"

I swallowed hard and stared at him wide-eyed. Finally, I nodded.

"Son, I'm proud of you and how much you've improved on the mat. I 
couldn't ask for a better wrestler. But now you need to make me 
proud of you as a man. I know you can do it. Now go hit the 
showers."

I walked out of Coach Simmons office visibly shaken. When I shut 
the door behind me, I looked up and saw the last person I'd 
expected to see. Scott.

"You get your head handed to you?" he asked.

"How'd you know?"

"I had the same talk with him last year. Well, I expect it was 
the same. I didn't get my head as far up my ass as you did, but I 
was pretty intense."

"Yeah?" I couldn't imagine Scott intense about anything. He was 
one of the most laid-back guys I knew.

"Yeah," he said with assurance. "But having Coach hand you your 
head on a platter has one extra benefit."

"It does?" I couldn't imagine what it could be.

"Yep," he said, grinning. "It got it out of your ass."

He laughed all the way to the showers. I didn't think it was 
particularly funny, but at least Scott was talking to me again. 
The rest of the team had already showered and left, so Scott and 
I pretty much had the place to ourselves while we cleaned up from 
a hard practice. He gave me a ride home and that was that. I 
never realized what a good friend Scott was until that moment. I 
was still incredibly shaken by my conversation with Coach 
Simmons, but at least I still had Scott.

Gina was another matter entirely. I had really screwed things up 
with her. I hadn't written her in two weeks, and the last time 
she had called, I'd been doing pushups in my room and hadn't 
talked to her. Mom knew what was going on, but I guess she had 
decided that I'd have to learn things the hard way. In a way, I 
guess that kind of helped me. If she'd simply told me what I was 
doing wrong, I wouldn't have listened. Having Gina pissed at me, 
having my grades take a nosedive, and then having Coach Simmons 
put things into perspective really drove the point home.

Unfortunately, my parents were still extremely upset, and while I 
wasn't really grounded, per se, I was under very close scrutiny. 
I had a lot of things I had to change in my life, but I really 
had no idea where to begin. For the first time in many months, I 
missed Susan. She always seemed to know what to do. This time, 
however, I'd have to figure things out on my own.

The one bright spot in my whole life was Amy. She had been to all 
of my wrestling matches, and had still talked to me, even when I 
blew her off. Once Scott had started talking to me again, the 
possibility of double dates returned. Unfortunately, my parents 
wouldn't let me out of the house after dinner, even on weekends.

I kept up with wrestling practice and my workouts, but I didn't 
do all the extra things I'd been doing before. I still stayed for 
the extra Saturday practices, but that was it. I started paying 
attention to my classes and homework again, and slowly saw my 
grades begin to make a comeback. I'd had good grades the first 
two six-weeks of the fall semester, and I thought I could pull 
things out if I got good grades all three six-weeks of the spring 
semester.

I won most of my wrestling matches, too. The only losses were to 
the State runner-up in my weight class and a blind wrestler from 
the Georgia School for the Deaf and Blind. (Don't laugh, the 
blind guy was one of the best wrestlers I've ever gone up 
against; he knew where I was going before _I_ did, it seemed, 
because he could _feel_ it.)

Wrestling season ended and our school had a winning record. My 
personal record was 11-4, and I was pretty happy with it. I would 
try harder the following year, but I would also keep things 
balanced. I had put on quite a bit of weight, but I wasn't much 
worried about it, since I needed it to stay in my weight bracket. 
Once I stopped working out six days a week, and shifted to an 
off-season three times a week, I stopped eating as much. I'd also 
grown an inch and half since my last birthday, and I was now a 
touch taller than 5'9". In retrospect, I realize that my body was 
taking care of itself nicely. I was still worried about being too 
pudgy, but with the routine of school, I guess I forgot to worry 
about it sometimes.

When I got my report card for the first six-weeks of the spring 
semester, my grades were considerably better. I was back up to an 
A, two Bs, a B minus, and two Cs. Not great, but an improvement. 
Mom and Dad talked to me, to make sure that the improvement 
wasn't a temporary thing, and let up on some of their 
restrictions. I guess I should have been happy, but I wasn't.

I even started writing to Gina again, but things had cooled 
between us, and I didn't know how to fix them. We still wrote to 
each other about once a week, but the letters were shorter, and 
there seemed to be less of a connection. Once again, I found 
myself wishing that I could talk to Susan about it. I couldn't, 
though, and I felt lost and confused. I couldn't even talk to Amy 
about it, but she could see that I was depressed.

In addition, I was a little down about Mom. Despite our night at 
Susan's house, and then afterward on our cabin porch, she never 
gave me any indication that there would be a repeat. I'd been so 
wrapped up in wrestling and working out (and letting my grades 
slip), that I hadn't thought about it much. But as I got some 
focus, and some balance, I started thinking about her. I guess it 
was a combination of things that kept anything from happening, 
but Mom and I never even talked about sex, between us or anyone 
else.

So I was a little depressed about Gina, and a little confused 
about Mom. Scott noticed that I wasn't in the greatest spirits, 
and started "planning a surprise" for me. I had no idea what he 
was up to, but Shannon and Amy were clearly in on it.

-----

Scott's parents were going out of town the weekend before Easter 
and he got permission to let me stay at his house, until they 
returned. He was an only child, so both our parents thought it 
would be better if someone were at the house with him. Both of us 
were pretty responsible, and our mothers got together and agreed 
that we could watch out for ourselves for the weekend, as long as 
we let my parents know what we were doing, and checked in on a 
regular basis. I guess Mom and Dad were also letting me have a 
little more freedom, because of all the improvements I'd made in 
my grades.

Whatever the reason was, I figured Scott and I could do pretty 
much what we wanted for the whole weekend: sit around and watch 
TV, listen to records as loud as we wanted to, eat whatever we 
wanted to, and stuff like that. The one rule his parents were 
firm about was that we could have no one over to the house. If we 
wanted to see our friends, we'd have to do it somewhere else. 
That was just fine by me.

What I didn't realize was that Scott was planning a bit more than 
he let on. His parents left on Friday morning and we arrived home 
to his empty house shortly after school. Scott's family had a 
covered porch behind their house, complete with a Jacuzzi 
whirlpool, and when we got home, he turned on the heater and gave 
me a conspiratorial wink. He wouldn't tell me what was up, 
however. All he would tell me was, "wait and see."

It was getting towards dinnertime, so Scott and I headed to our 
favorite pizzeria to pick up something to eat. When he ordered 
two pizzas, I looked at him questioningly. He grinned and winked 
at me again. After we got our pizzas, I figured we'd head home 
and stuff ourselves, but instead, we detoured to the park near 
his house. We parked the car and waited. While we were waiting, I 
wanted to have a slice of pizza (the aroma filled the car, and I 
was really starting to get hungry), but Scott wouldn't let me, 
nor would he tell me what we were waiting for.

When the door behind me opened, I turned around in surprise, 
ready to fend off a psycho-killer. Instead of the proverbial 
deranged madman, I was greeted by the smiling face of Shannon. 
Amy quickly climbed in behind her. With growing comprehension, I 
noticed that they both had small overnight bags. The girls ducked 
out of sight without a word, and Scott started the car. We drove 
back to his house in silence. I'd begun to figure out what was 
going on, but Scott resolutely refused to respond to any of my 
pointed looks. Finally, we got to Scott's house and I couldn't 
contain myself any longer.

"Okay, will someone _please_ explain what's going on here," I 
demanded as we walked inside.

Shannon hugged Scott's arm (the one not carrying the pizzas) and 
looked at me with artful innocence. "You needed a break, and a 
little cheering up, so we figured a party was in order."

"So we're gonna have a bunch of people here tonight?" I asked.

 "Nope," said Shannon. "Just a little party. Just the four of 
us."

Amy blushed.

"Just the four of us?" I swallowed hard and Amy blushed deeper 
still.

Scott and Shannon nodded simultaneously, and we all headed into 
the house. Before we did anything, I shushed everyone and called 
my parents. I told them that Scott and I had gotten pizza for 
dinner, and we were going to hang out and maybe watch some TV or 
listen to records. After I had dutifully told them what Scott and 
I were up to for the night (mostly the truth), we set about 
getting ready to eat. Shannon got plates and napkins while Scott 
put an Abba album on the turntable. Amy fixed the drinks, and we 
were soon sitting around the two pizzas, drinking Cokes and 
listening to the music.

"How are you two getting away with this?" I asked the girls, 
around a mouthful of pizza.

"Simple," Shannon said with a grin. "We're supposed to be at 
Becky Leonardi's house for a sleepover. Her mom never really pays 
attention when Becky has a bunch of us over, so we told her we 
wanted her to cover for us. Our folks," she nodded to Amy, "think 
we're gonna be at Becky's until tomorrow afternoon."

I swallowed hard. "What're you gonna do until then?" I asked. I 
already knew the answer to that one, but I didn't dare believe 
it.

"We'll think of something," Shannon said slyly. Amy blushed 
again, and I felt my face and ears heating up as well.

When Scott got up to flip the record, he detoured through his 
parent's wet bar on the way back. He produced a bottle of Bacardi 
rum when he sat down, and Shannon grinned. Amy and I both shifted 
nervously, but neither of us wanted to seem un-cool.

"A little lubrication," Scott said as he began to add rum to our 
Cokes.

Scott and Shannon drank theirs, and Amy and I followed suit. In 
short order, we were feeling pretty mellow.

"Listen, y'all. This is cool," I said, tinkling the ice in my Rum 
& Coke for emphasis. "But nothing else, right? No weed, okay?"

"No way, man," Scott said quickly. "What d'you think we are, 
stoners?"

I shook my head. "I'm just making sure. I mean, I'm cool with 
people smoking it, but I don't want any myself."

We all knew a lot of kids at school who smoked pot, but it was 
always something I'd stayed away from. I don't know why, I guess 
I just didn't want to end up like a lot of the stoners I knew. 
Evidently, neither did Scott, Shannon, or Amy.

"Hey, babe," Scott said to Shannon a little while later. "Did you 
two bring your suits?"

She nodded, and then she and Amy shared a covert glance.

I quickly realized that Scott was talking about bathing suits. "I 
don't have a suit."

"No problem, man. You can wear one of mine. I think your waist is 
the same size as mine, it's just your chest and shoulders that 
are bigger," he said as he stood up.

That seemed to be an unspoken signal, and we all stood. The girls 
picked up their overnight bags and headed for the hall bathroom. 
Scott and I headed to his room. He rummaged in one of his bottom 
drawers and pulled out two pairs of swim trunks. He threw one to 
me and started taking off his shoes. We had seen each other naked 
in the showers many times, and my family was nudist, but it was 
still weird to see Scott simply taking off his clothes outside of 
a locker room. I shrugged off the feeling and quickly stripped 
off my clothes.

Clad only in our bathing suits, Scott and I opened the door to 
the hall. Just as we did, Shannon and Amy emerged from the 
bathroom. Shannon was wearing a two-piece bikini with yellow and 
pink flowers. She looked really good, but it was Amy who nearly 
blew me away.

She had on a fairly conservative two-piece suit made of bright 
yellow fabric, but it couldn't hide her round breasts and firm, 
compact figure. The way she normally dressed, I hadn't realized 
that her breasts were as big as they were. They weren't very 
large, by any means, but she was far from flat chested. On her 
small body, her breasts were nearly perfect. I guess I was 
staring, probably open-mouthed, because Shannon giggled and 
looked at Amy.

"See," Shannon said. "I told ya he'd like it."

Amy's blush spread to her chest and I finally shut my mouth. 
Scott pulled four towels from the hall closet and we headed back 
through the living room. Scott picked up the bottle of Bacardi 
and Shannon grabbed the remainder of our six-pack. We each picked 
up our glasses, refilled them with ice from the kitchen, and then 
headed to the back porch. It was starting to get cold, and I was 
glad that Scott had turned the Jacuzzi on, earlier in the day; it 
would be nice and warm when we slipped into it.

The water was indeed warm, and I soon had Amy snuggled up next to 
me, her chin nearly at a level with the bubbling water. Shannon 
held our glasses while Scott added rum and Coke to each one. When 
we each had a full drink, he leaned back against the edge of the 
hot tub and put his arm around Shannon. She giggled again and 
snuggled closer to him. It wasn't long before our drinks were 
mostly finished and we were all feeling no pain.

A little while later, Shannon gave Amy a pointed look and arched 
her eyebrow. Amy stiffened slightly, and then nodded. I watched 
the whole exchange with a detached curiosity, until Shannon 
leaned forward.

"I want to get more comfortable. How about you, Amy?"

As I soaked in the warmth of the tub and enjoyed the bubbles, I 
wondered how in the world she could want to be _more_ 
comfortable. If I'd been less buzzed, I probably would have 
noticed that Shannon's statement sounded a little rehearsed. As 
it was, I didn't notice a thing. Amy sat forward immediately and 
nodded, as if on cue.

"Do you guys mind if we get a little more comfortable?" Shannon 
asked.

Scott smiled, winked at me, and shook his head. "Go ahead, girls. 
Get comfortable."

Was I the only one who didn't know what was going on? It 
certainly seemed that way.

When Shannon reached around behind her back and her bikini top 
floated free, my eyes must have bugged out. Out of the corner of 
my eye, I saw Amy's conservative top drift into the center of the 
Jacuzzi. When I looked at her, still wide-eyed, she blushed and 
smiled shyly. The girls each retrieved the floating tops and 
flung them onto the deck. They landed with wet plops. When Amy 
snuggled up against me, I felt a very pointed nipple pressing 
against my side.

I turned to Amy and she closed her eyes and tilted her head back 
expectantly. I knew what I _wanted_ to do, and I knew what I 
_should_ do. But when I looked at her angelic face with its cute-
as-a-button nose and pale pink lips, parted in anticipation, what 
I should do went right out the window. I leaned down and kissed 
her, my tongue parting her lips and tentatively exploring. My 
penis went from semi-erect to fully erect in less than a second.

Amy pressed herself against me and hesitantly ran her hand up my 
hairless chest. I pulled her to me and put my hand on the small 
of her back to hold her in place. When we finally broke the kiss, 
I opened my eyes and looked down at her beautiful face. She 
blinked and stared at me dreamily for a moment, before slowly 
focusing on me. When she did, I was rewarded with one of her 
heart-breaking smiles.

I was suddenly conscious that we weren't alone, and looked at 
Scott and Shannon. Scott was smiling munificently and Shannon 
looked like the cat that ate the canary.

"Don't mind us," Shannon said, as she straddled Scott's legs. She 
winked at Amy and then held Scott's face in both hands as she 
began to kiss him soundly.

I turned back to Amy and looked at her questioningly. She watched 
Scott and Shannon for a moment and then swallowed hard. When she 
looked back at me, she smiled shyly and blushed, casting her eyes 
down and away. I lifted her chin with my finger and kissed her 
again, gently. When she didn't pull away, I put my hands on her 
sides and easily lifted her to straddle my hips.

She came willingly, and was soon kissing me with increasing 
passion. I ran my hands over her back as we hungrily explored 
each other's mouths. Soon, my hands were resting comfortably on 
her hips, right above her ass. She wiggled her hips against me 
and my fingertips brushed across the waistband of her bikini 
bottoms. Without thinking, I pressed my fingers under the elastic 
and slid my hands over her taut buttocks. She flinched, but 
didn't pull away, so I let them stay there and started gently 
kneading her firm flesh.

When she finally pulled her lips away from me, she was panting 
slightly and smiling. I looked over her shoulder to see Scott and 
Shannon still kissing. Shannon humped against Scott, her body 
sending ripples through the bubbling water. Amy turned to look as 
well. As we watched, Shannon lifted out of the water to let Scott 
suck on her nipples.

Amy turned to look at me with wide eyes, eyes so blue that I 
wanted to dive into them. She licked her lips nervously and 
seemed to come to a decision.

"We could do that too," she said in a small voice. "If you want 
to."

"I want to," I said quietly.

I felt her body trembling as I pulled my hands from inside her 
bikini bottoms. She was shaking like a leaf, despite the heat of 
the Jacuzzi, when I put my hands on her hips and lifted her 
partially out of the water. I came face to face with her bare 
breasts for the first time, and held my breath, completely 
enraptured. They were incredible, firm and smooth and about the 
size of half an orange. Each was topped with a rock-hard pink 
nipple. On her small frame, they looked perfect.

When my brain ran out of oxygen, I gasped. Amy looked at me with 
panic-filled eyes and started to pull away.

"They're beautiful," I said, trying to soothe her.

She stopped moving completely. When I looked up at her face, she 
was a little calmer, but not much. I couldn't think of a thing to 
say, so I did the only thing I knew would take her mind off her 
anxiety: I captured one hard pink nipple with my lips and sucked 
gently. Amy whimpered and clutched at my head.

I ran my tongue over her puckered areola and then flicked the tip 
against her nipple itself. With my lips clamped firmly over her, 
I could feel all the little bumps of her aroused nipple, and I 
ran my tongue over them, teasing her. She whimpered again and I 
switched to her other breast.

I was busily lavishing attention on her sensitive nipples when we 
were startled by a plop from Scott and Shannon's direction. I 
pulled back and both of us turned to look. Scott had worked 
Shannon's bikini bottoms off, and had tossed them next to her 
top. Amy turned to look at me, eyes wide. She swallowed hard and 
turned back to Scott and Shannon.

Shannon looked over at us and made eye contact with Amy. Once 
again, Amy nodded almost imperceptibly when Shannon arched an 
eyebrow at her, and I began to realize that the girls might have 
planned more of this than I'd thought.

"Y'all are over-dressed," Shannon said almost casually.

She slid from Scott's lap and stood in the center of the Jacuzzi. 
I got my first good look at her breasts when she did. They were 
average-sized, firm (I haven't seen many 15-year-old girls who 
didn't have firm breasts), and capped by large areolas. She 
looked expectantly at Scott, who shrugged and began to shimmy out 
of his bathing suit. With a louder plop, it soon joined Shannon's 
discarded bikini.

Amy turned to look at me and licked her lips in anticipation. "We 
could do that too. If you want to."

I smiled at her and nodded.

When she reached for her bikini bottoms, I put my hands on hers. 
"Let me," I said.

She looked uncertain for a moment, like she wanted to turn and 
ask Shannon what to do, but she eventually nodded apprehensively. 
She trembled when my hands moved over her hips and into the 
waistband of her bottoms. I slid them over her ass and then down 
her legs. She had to slip off my lap before I could get them 
completely off, but in a moment, she was nude before me. I 
couldn't see much, except her breasts, but the mere thought of 
her nudity made my already hard cock swell further.

Amy looked at me with a mixture of anticipation and fear as I 
stood up and untied the drawstring on my own bathing suit. The 
water only came to my waist, so when I lowered the shorts over my 
straining erection, it sprang up and out of the water, splashing 
her. She giggled at first, but then her eyes dropped to my penis 
and she put her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. I grinned to 
myself and sat back in the water, pulling her with me.

When Amy settled on my lap, my hard-on brushed against her pussy 
and she drew back. I pulled her down to me and kissed her, hard, 
which seemed to take her mind off the fact that my cock was 
rubbing her pussy. She responded eagerly as I gently probed her 
mouth with my tongue.

In the back of my mind, I knew what I was doing was wrong, that I 
was betraying Gina, but I didn't care. It had been so long since 
I'd kissed a girl, or held one in my arms, and all I could think 
about was how good it felt. I didn't _want_ to think of Gina; all 
I wanted was Amy, here and now, naked and aroused and willing.

We kissed for a while, and I luxuriated in the feeling of the 
bubbles around us and Amy's tight little body pressed against me. 
Once again, however, we were interrupted by a sound from the 
other side of the hot tub. We both looked over to see that Scott 
had lifted himself out of the tub and was sitting on the edge. 
Shannon had moved between his legs and her head was slowly 
bobbing up and down in his lap.

Amy looked back at me, swallowed hard, and licked her lips. "We 
could do that too," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "If you 
want to."

I lifted her chin and held her eyes. "Do _you_ want to?" I asked.

She averted her eyes at first, and then I felt her trembling. 
When she looked back at me, she nodded, her expression scared and 
lustful at once.

"Are you sure?"

I felt two hands, two feminine hands, grip my cock and squeeze. 
It was the first time she'd consciously touched my manhood, and 
the feeling was electric. When she nodded again, there was no 
longer any doubt.

I kissed her tenderly and her hands fluttered against my 
erection. They never lost contact with me as I lifted myself onto 
the edge of the Jacuzzi. Amy stared at my erection with wide, 
wondering eyes, and I almost came from her expression alone. Her 
hand barely fit around my girth, but she stroked my member 
tenderly and with growing confidence.

"It's so hard," she whispered. "And so soft."

I tried to think of something witty to say, but alcohol numbed my 
mind. It was probably for the best, because Amy lowered her lips 
and tentatively kissed the crown of my dick. It jerked at the 
contact and she giggled, looking up at me with big, round eyes.

"I think he likes you," I said.

She smiled from ear to ear and nodded.

When she wrapped her lips around the tip and sucked gently, I 
almost went out of my mind. It was the first time I'd had a pair 
of lips on my cock since August, and it felt _won-der-ful_. I 
groaned and Amy opened her lips wider, so she could engulf the 
entire head. I hissed in pleasure when she did. She looked up at 
me and tried to smile. I stroked her cheek with my finger and she 
returned her attention to my manhood.

When she started sucking, I groaned and tried to keep from coming 
too soon, using every trick I'd learned with Susan, the summer 
before. Even the fact that Amy's teeth scraped me several times 
didn't really slow things down. It had simply been too long since 
I'd had my cock in a girl's mouth, and I was entirely too worked 
up to last more than a few minutes. I vaguely heard Scott groan 
as he shot his load in Shannon's mouth, and I wasn't far behind.

"Amy, I'm gonna come," I said.

When she continued sucking, I stroked her cheek again and 
repeated myself. She looked up at me, her expression full of 
determination and desire, mingled with a little doubt. I smiled 
at her and nodded.

"You're doing great, kitten," I said, trying to sound as 
reassuring as possible.

Evidently, it worked. She turned her attention back to my hard-on 
and redoubled her efforts. When she ran her tongue over the 
bottom of my glans, I finally lost it. It was the first orgasm 
I'd had in more than seven months that I hadn't personally been 
responsible for, and I was lost in a haze of pleasure.

The first spurt caught her by surprise, and she squeaked when it 
hit the back of her throat. She kept moving her hands along my 
shaft, however, and I kept coming over her tongue, groaning into 
the night. When my orgasm subsided, she pulled back and coughed a 
few times. She looked up at me with an expression of uncertainty, 
her lips deliciously red and shiny.

I quickly slipped into the water and drew her into my arms. When 
I went to kiss her, she turned her head at the last moment. I 
pulled back and looked at her.

"What's the matter, kitten?" I asked.

"I've... I've still got some of... your stuff... in my mouth."

"If it's good enough for you to swallow, kitten, it's good enough 
for me to taste a little."

With that, I kissed her. She resisted at first, but then gave in 
and kissed me in return. When we finally separated, we were 
greeted by muted applause from Scott and Shannon.

"That was _so_ hot," Shannon said.

Scott just grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. Amy and I both 
blushed. Then Scott stood up, unashamed of his nudity. His dick 
was still semi-erect, and I absently noted that it was about as 
long as mine, but thinner. Amy noticed too, and I felt her hands 
reaching for my erection, under the cover of the bubbling water. 
She captured it and seemed to size things up in her head, 
grinning shyly at me as she did. I grinned in return and her 
blush deepened.

"Listen, you crazy kids," Scott said. "Shannon and I are gonna go 
take a shower and then go to bed. You guys can take the guest 
bedroom. Okay?"

I'd been planning on sleeping in the guest bedroom anyway, but 
when I'd woken up that morning, I'd had no idea that I'd possibly 
have company.

Amy blushed and averted her eyes. "If you want me to... I mean... I 
could... you know." she said timidly.

"I want you with me, kitten," I said softly. "Would you like 
that?"

She rewarded me with one of her smiles, and my world lit up.

"We could do... other things... too," she said, casting her eyes 
downward. "If you want to."

My cock swelled in her hands and she looked up at me suddenly. I 
pulled her close and whispered in her ear. "I want to."

Scott and Shannon were grinning insufferably when we returned our 
attention to them. Shannon had a towel wrapped around her chest 
and Scott was wrapping his around his waist. I stood up and 
pulled Amy with me. We stepped out of the hot tub and Amy looked 
a little self-conscious at having Scott see her naked. I picked 
up a towel and wrapped her in it, pulling her to my chest as I 
did.

Scott turned off the hot tub and with a wave, he and Shannon 
headed into the house. I could almost wrap the towel around Amy 
twice, and she grinned at me as I tucked the loose end between 
her beautiful breasts. I picked up my own towel, my erection 
bouncing as I stood, and slung it around my neck. When I stepped 
close to her, Amy's eyes were glued to my semi-hard penis.

"Let's go shower, kitten," I said gently.

She licked her lips and nodded.

-----

We took a shower together, but Amy seemed disappointed at its 
brevity. I explained that with two showers going, we were bound 
to run out of hot water pretty quickly. Anyway, our fingertips 
were wrinkled from being in the hot tub so long, so neither of us 
was really all that enthusiastic about taking a long shower. I 
guess she thought I might be rushing things because I didn't want 
to shower with her. On the contrary, I didn't want to take a 
_cold_ shower with her, and that's what we would have had, if 
we'd tarried.

We dried off, grinning at each other and enjoying looking at one 
another in the light. When we were mostly dry, she wrapped her 
towel around her chest, and I gave her my towel to wrap around 
her hair. She picked up her overnight bag, which she and Shannon 
had left in the bathroom when they'd changed into their bikinis, 
and we opened the door.

I picked up Shannon's bag and followed Amy out of the bathroom. 
Amy turned left, towards the guest bedroom, and I turned right, 
headed for Scott's room. I met him coming out of his parents' 
room, at the end of the hall. He had a towel wrapped around him, 
and grinned at me as I approached, still nude.

"Feeling better?" he asked, sounding insufferably smug.

"Yeah. Thanks. I really needed to relax."

"And get laid," he said with a wink.

"Well, I dunno if..."

"Yeah," he said, cutting me off. "Ya do."

We shared a knowing grin and I held out Shannon's bag. He took it 
and pressed something into my palm. When I pulled my hand back 
and looked at what he'd given me, I saw two foil-wrapped rubbers.

"Sorry it's only two, man," he said quietly. "I only had five 
left."

"So you get three and I get two?"

He grinned at me. "Beggars can't be choosers."

I nodded and thanked him quietly.

"See you in the morning, man," he said.

"Yeah. G'night."

When I turned back to the guest bedroom, Amy was waiting for me 
at the door.

"What was that about?" she asked softly.

"You'll see," I said.

I could already feel my erection growing.

-----

Copyright (c) 2003 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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