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Message-ID: <40688asstr$1044418203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Nick Scipio <imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Summer Camp - Book 2" by Nick Scipio - Ch 04 (MF, mF, teen, oral, voy, mild bond)
Date: Tue,  4 Feb 2003 23:10:03 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 2: Gina
Part: Chapter 04
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: MF, mF, teen, oral, voy, mild bond
Revision: 1.1
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 FOUR

The next morning, I woke up bright and early and stared at the 
ceiling. Outside the cabin, dawn was just breaking, and the world 
was awash with the usual muted forest noises. I listened to the 
sound of the birds for a few moments, and had just decided to get 
up, when I heard a soft whimper. I blinked (as if blinking would 
make me hear better), and strained to pick up the sound over the 
birdcalls.

Quietly, very quietly, I rolled to the edge of the bunk bed and 
peered over. It was just barely light enough in the cabin for me 
to make out the shape of Mom and Dad in bed. Mom was curled up on 
her side, and Dad was behind her, spoon fashion. As I watched, I 
saw him reach around and cup her breast.

She whimpered again, very softly, and reached behind her. I could 
tell by the slight motion of her arm that she was stroking his 
dick. My own penis, which had been half hard already, sprang to 
attention. Dad moved his arm down, and I knew that he was rubbing 
a finger between her labia.

I slowly reached for my cock and gripped it gently, stroking with 
tiny back-and-forth motions. On the bed below me, Mom arched her 
back and pressed her ass against Dad. He moved his hand from her 
pussy to his cock, and began to rub the head against her lips. 
Even though they were covered by the sheet, it was thin enough 
that I could mostly tell what they were doing. The slowly 
increasing light in the cabin helped, but I had to use my 
imagination to fill in some of the blanks.

As I watched, Dad slowly thrust his hips forward and sank his 
length into her pussy. Mom whimpered again and then clutched the 
pillow to her face to drown out her soft cries. Dad moved his 
right hand back to her breast, and I could tell that he was 
rolling and pinching her nipple.

Up in the top bunk, I alternated between squeezing and stroking 
my cock, but had to keep my motions gentle, lest I make too much 
noise and alert Mom and Dad to the fact that I was awake. Below 
me, Dad began to thrust his hips, fucking her with short, gentle 
strokes. Mom still clutched the pillow to her mouth, and I could 
see that she was actually biting it.

Dad continued to thrust into her, and then moved his hand down 
her tummy to play with her clit. I could tell the moment he 
touched the sensitive bundle of nerves because Mom arched her 
back and tried to shove the pillow harder against her face. While 
Dad continued to fuck her, his fingers moved across her clit, 
causing the sheet over their bodies to ripple with the motion.

I'd seen my mom give my dad a blowjob, but I'd never seen them 
fuck; I only wished I could have seen his cock actually sliding 
into her. I was mesmerized as I stroked myself and watched them.

Mom finally regained a modicum of self-control, and pulled the 
pillow away from her face. She turned her head and Dad began to 
whisper into her ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but the 
effect was pretty apparent; her eyes became unfocused, and she 
began thrusting her hips back at him. Dad continued to jab his 
cock into her and work on her clit with his fingers. In only a 
few moments, she shoved the pillow back into her mouth and tried 
to stifle her cries as she came. Dad thrust into her hard, and 
then held his hips motionless while she climaxed. She shuddered 
against him and let the pillow muffle her cries.

I was still squeezing my cock slowly since I didn't want to make 
any motions that would give me away. So while I was very aroused, 
I wasn't close to coming. I turned my attention back to my 
parents, and panicked as Mom half sat up and looked at Erin. I 
quickly shut my eyes and stopped moving my hand. I pretended to 
be asleep as I felt her eyes on me. With a sleepy snuffle, I 
rolled over to face the wall, hoping that I'd convinced her.

Evidently, I had, because the next thing I heard was Dad's 
muffled groan. I slowly rolled back over and inched towards the 
edge of my bed. When I looked down, Dad had his arm over his face 
and was lying on his back. He had his knee up as well, but I 
could see Mom's form curled up next to him with her head at his 
crotch.

As I watched, she bobbed up and down, and I knew she was taking 
him into the back of her throat. Because Dad had fucked her for 
so long, I knew he must be close to orgasm himself. I grabbed my 
own cock and began slowly jerking off as I watched Mom suck him.

All too soon, however, he took his arm off his face and put his 
hand on the back of Mom's sheet-covered head. He held her down, 
and I could tell by the look on his face that he was coming in 
her mouth. I idly wondered if that's what I looked like when I 
came. He didn't make a sound as he filled Mom's mouth with his 
seed, but she whimpered softly as she swallowed. If I hadn't been 
paying attention, I'd have never noticed.

Finally, Mom came up for air and crawled up his chest, nestling 
her head against his arm. Dad lowered his leg and I could see the 
lump formed under the sheet by his softening penis. I watched 
them quietly cuddle for a few minutes and then I rolled onto my 
back.

With my right hand, I gently squeezed my own erection, which 
wasn't softening at all. I wanted to come, but I knew that if I 
started to jerk off, I'd make too much noise and be discovered. 
It was getting pretty light outside the cabin, so I couldn't even 
climb down the ladder and sneak into the bathroom. Mom, Dad, or 
both of them were sure to see me and realize that I was fully 
erect.

I could understand why I wouldn't want my dad to see my erection, 
but it seemed strange that I didn't want Mom to see it either. I 
guess that I didn't want her to see it because then she'd know 
that I'd been watching them. I didn't go out of my way to spy on 
them, but sometimes, I just couldn't help myself.

It was still very early, so I took my hand away from my hard-on 
and tried to relax. But thoughts of Mom's bobbing head filled my 
mind's eye, and my erection wouldn't subside.

Unfortunately, I knew of one sure-fire way to make my penis 
return to its normal state. I started thinking about what I was 
going to say to Gina, and worse, how I'd deal with things when I 
got back to school. I tried to put Amy out of my mind, and 
concentrated on how much I should tell Gina. I didn't want to 
hide anything from her, but I didn't think I needed to tell her 
all the intimate details.

My problem was that I literally had no idea how she was going to 
react. I fully expected her to never speak to me again. But then 
little things that Susan and Mom had said kept gnawing at the 
back of my mind. When I'd first been worried that having sex with 
Susan, or Stacy, was cheating on Gina, Susan had said that Gina 
might be a little more open than I imagined. I pondered what to 
tell Gina now, and not for the first time, I wondered what Susan 
had meant by that remark. She'd said it more than once, which led 
me to believe that it hadn't been a simple offhand comment meant 
to placate me.

I laced my fingers behind my head and once again felt sorry for 
myself. I had two good relationships that I'd screwed up, and in 
a way, I was pretty impressed that I'd managed to crash and burn 
with both girls. Oh, to be sure, I hadn't crashed and burned with 
Gina yet, but it was only a matter of time. Once I told her, I 
was sure that all hell would break loose.

Once again, I considered simply not telling her. She'd never be 
the wiser if I didn't, and things would hopefully pick up right 
where they'd left off the summer before. But the thought of 
deceiving Gina just felt... very wrong. And worse, my guilt over 
Gina had ruined my relationship with Amy. What made me think that 
I wouldn't feel guilty about Amy when I was with Gina? My guilt 
would surely poison a second relationship.

I was just working myself into a nice funk when I suddenly felt a 
touch on my elbow. It was so unexpected that I nearly jumped off 
the bed. I'd been so wrapped up in my own problems that I hadn't 
heard Mom get out of bed and approach me. I looked at her 
sheepishly.

"Are you okay, Paul?" she asked, pitching her voice low so as not 
to wake Erin.

I nodded and tried to smile, but I could tell from Mom's reaction 
that I didn't look happy at all. She smiled sadly and stroked my 
hair.

"It'll be okay, honey," she said gently. "Things have a way of 
working themselves out."

I fervently hoped she was right, but I doubted it would be that 
easy. My erection had subsided (small wonder), so I rolled 
upright and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Mom smiled at 
me, trying to get me to smile in return, but I simply didn't have 
the energy. I climbed down the ladder and padded into the 
bathroom without a backward glance.

When I came out, Mom was sitting on the edge of the bed and she 
and Dad were talking softly. Erin was still asleep, so I tried to 
be quiet. Without a word, I walked over to the cabin door and 
opened it. I stepped through the screen door and held it so it 
wouldn't slam shut. I then trudged down the hill, silently 
lamenting that I'd have to spend my first day at camp cleaning 
out a house full of junk.

-----

As I walked through the camp, I saw that little had changed since 
the summer before. The side door into the clubhouse had a fresh 
coat of paint, and it looked like the tattered screen had been 
replaced by a new one, but other than that, the old building was 
much the same as I remembered.

Since it was still early in the summer, most of the motel-style 
rooms in the buildings across from the clubhouse were still 
empty. As before, our family was one of the first of the summer 
visitors to arrive, so the camp was quiet when I walked down the 
sandy road that led towards Susan's house. Instead of following 
the road, I walked to the brow of the hill and looked down at the 
lake below. Little had changed there as well. The raft floated in 
the lethargic current, and the lake was glass-smooth in the early 
morning light.

I stood and simply stared at the lake, and then the pine forest 
on the far side, lost in thought. Finally, I came back to myself 
and turned for Susan's house. It was several hundred yards from 
the top of the hill to her house, and I shuffled along aimlessly, 
not caring if I were early, late, or on time.

Susan's house had changed little as well. The back porch that 
Dwight and I had repaired the year before looked as sturdy as 
ever. There were two new flowerbeds lining the courtyard wall, 
but other than that, things had changed little there, too. I 
rounded the corner and entered the courtyard with my head down.

I walked up to the kitchen door and rapped on the glass with my 
knuckles. When it didn't open after a minute, I knocked again, 
somewhat louder.

"I don't think anyone's home," a voice said from behind me.

Startled, I whirled around to face the source of the voice. Much 
to my surprise, it was Susan. Her eyes twinkled with suppressed 
laughter as she stared at me. She was sitting casually on a towel 
in one of the wrought-iron chairs and had the thick Sunday 
newspaper on the table before her.

"You know," she said musingly. "If you lift your head up once in 
awhile, you might see more of the world around you."

I blushed and shuffled my feet, but didn't answer her.

"You walked right past me, lost in your own little world."

When I still didn't answer, she folded the section of the paper 
that she'd been reading and laid it atop the rest. She stood, but 
I refused to meet her eyes. I just knew that she'd take one look 
at me and know what I'd done with my relationships and how I'd 
screwed up my life. I didn't want her to think I was a bad 
person, but I couldn't think of a way to explain things so that I 
didn't sound callow.

She stepped close to me, and I was acutely aware of her nudity. 
She was as beautiful as I remembered; more so, in fact. Despite 
the fact that she ran a nudist camp, her skin was only lightly 
tanned, and it was smooth and barely touched by the years. She 
wasn't wearing her bikini bottoms, and as I hung my head, I got a 
good look at her smooth mons. I felt the briefest stirring in my 
loins, but thrust the thought aside. Hadn't the little head 
gotten me into enough trouble already?

"I'm up here," she said playfully, placing a finger under my chin 
and lifting my head.

I looked at her dolefully and she made a moue, teasing me. When I 
didn't smile, she raised her eyebrows.

"You _are_ in a foul mood, aren't you?"

I shrugged.

"You want to talk about it?"

I shook my head.

"Okay. Then c'mon inside. I'll make us breakfast and do all the 
talking."

She seemed like she didn't have a care in the world as she led me 
by the hand into the kitchen. Things had changed little there 
too, and she had me sit in my usual seat while she started 
preparing breakfast.

"I thought we'd take it easy today," she said, beating eggs for 
an omelette. "Maybe figure out what our plan of attack should be 
and pack just a little." 

When I didn't respond, she continued.

"Gregory said he put sheets over most of the furniture at his 
dad's house, and he packed up some of his dad's personal things 
and family heirlooms."

She poured the eggs into the skillet and began slicing ham.

"He also mailed me a list of the few other things that he'd like 
to keep. Sentimental things, mostly."

Susan turned around and smiled at me. I smiled wanly in return, 
but quickly returned to staring at the Formica of the tabletop. 
She grated some cheddar cheese and then tossed it and the ham 
onto the cooking eggs. She then took four pieces of bread and put 
them in the toaster.

"Gregory told me that we've got a little bit of a challenge, 
too," Susan continued. "One of the bedrooms in his dad's house 
was locked, and he couldn't find the keys for it. He said his dad 
told him that he used it for storing old furniture, so we'd 
probably just have to pick through the stuff and see what the 
camp can use and what we'll donate to the Salvation Army."

She turned to smile genially at me and then returned her 
attention to the stove.

"I guess if we can't find the keys, we'll just have to come up 
with a different plan. I know a locksmith in town," she said. "We 
can use him if we have to, but I'm sure we'll find the keys."

The toaster binged and she began to butter the toast.

"So, today, we can take a look at what all is there, see if we 
can find the missing keys while we're at it, and generally have a 
light day. How's that sound?" she asked brightly.

I shrugged.

She cut the omelette into two pieces, slid the larger portion 
onto a plate for me, and then put three pieces of toast on the 
same plate.

"Why don't you get the silverware and pour us some orange juice?" 
Susan asked.

I got up and did as she asked. I wasn't feeling very talkative, 
despite the fact that Susan was trying to draw me out. When we 
both sat down, there was an awkward silence before we started 
eating.

Undaunted, Susan started telling me about her sons' summers. 
Kirk, her oldest, was starting his First Class Summer at the 
Naval Academy. He was one of the Midshipman hosts for the Summer 
Seminar, which Susan explained was a program for high school 
seniors who were interested in attending the Academy. After that, 
for his "second block" he was going on an Aviation Cruise with an 
attack squadron at NAS Jacksonville. He had a month's vacation at 
the end of the summer, but he would spend most of it with his 
brother, Doug.

Doug was doing a summer internship with a company in Austin, and 
would be working with IBM mainframe computers. At the end of the 
summer, he and some friends had an opportunity to take a 44-foot 
sailboat from Galveston to the Bahamas and back again. Doug had 
invited Kirk, and after their three-week trip, the two of them 
were going to spend a week back home with Susan.

I listened with half an ear, trying to pay attention and be 
polite. The omelette was actually pretty good, and I quickly 
cleaned my plate, much to Susan's satisfaction.

"Well," she said, with a teasing grin, "you may be mopey, but at 
least you've got an appetite."

She cleaned up our plates and I watched her as she washed and 
dried the dishes; her breasts swayed gently as she worked, and I 
felt a familiar stirring in my loins. As she began to make 
sandwiches for lunch, I covertly watched her, once again 
marveling at how beautiful she was. With a furtive look to make 
sure she wasn't paying attention to me, I reached under the table 
and gently squeezed my growing erection.

During the school year, I'd gotten used to masturbating at least 
once a day, usually in the mornings. Sometimes, I'd jerk off at 
night as well, depending on how horny I was. Since arriving at 
camp, I'd had few opportunities for any private time. After I'd 
started to take care of things earlier in the morning, but been 
unable to finish due to my family's close proximity, I was 
feeling a little pressure.

I was thinking about Susan, and how good she looked, when a 
horrible thought struck me and I began to panic. Susan hadn't 
done or said anything to make me think that she still had any 
feelings for me. The entire conversation over breakfast had been 
about her sons and their summers. She hadn't said a thing about 
the two of us. I began to worry that things would simply go back 
to normal, whatever that was.

What if she didn't want to have sex with me? Why? Had I done 
something? I frantically wracked my brain, pouring over the few 
things I'd said to her since arriving at camp, but I could find 
nothing overtly wrong.

"What's the matter, Paul?" Susan asked softly.

Startled out of my panicked train of thought, I looked at her and 
blinked.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I tried to shake off my fears and nodded. She looked dubious, but 
accepted my answer.

"Okay," she said, still sounding a little skeptical. "Wait a 
minute, and I'll get my bikini on, and then we'll drive up 
there."

My heart sank when she told me that she was going to put on her 
bikini bottoms. I guessed that it meant that she didn't want to 
do anything with me. One more nail in the coffin, I thought 
morosely, feeling my half-hard dick go completely limp.

-----

Mr. Kestrel's house was located at far corner of the camp, 
opposite Susan's. It was actually at the end of a little-used 
sandy road, which had weeds growing up in the center track. The 
house was at least 400 yards away from any other building, and 
unbroken pine forest surrounded it. We could have walked there 
from Susan's house in about 20 minutes, but she had boxes, 
wrapping paper, and rolls of tape in the back of her station 
wagon. We would probably have to buy more, she explained as we 
drove over there, but we had enough for the time being.

To tell the truth, I didn't even know where Mr. Kestrel had 
lived, and I'd certainly never been to this remote corner of the 
camp.

"This is the one piece of property that I don't own," Susan 
explained as we pulled up to the house.

I looked at it, and it looked eerily familiar, but I couldn't 
figure out why.

"Well, the one piece of property that I _didn't_ own," she 
corrected herself.

I looked at her curiously.

She put the car in Park and turned off the engine. "Dad sold the 
property to Uncle Bernie when I was just a girl. Uncle Bernie's 
will stipulated that I would have first right of refusal if 
Gregory wanted to sell the property."

"What's first right of refusal?" I asked, speaking for the first 
time since we'd left her house.

"It means that if Gregory wanted to sell the property, I had the 
first option to buy it. If, and only if, I declined, then Gregory 
could have sold it to someone else."

"Oh."

"If he hadn't wanted to sell it, though," she said with a hint of 
wistfulness, "that would have been okay too."

"He sold it to you?" I asked.

She nodded. "I guess he's moved on in his life. Before his dad 
died, he hadn't been to the camp in a long time."

"Oh."

We were silent for a moment and then she looked at me. "Don't 
talk my ear off, Paul," she said sarcastically, grinning at me. 
"I don't wanna spend the day listening to you yammer on about 
whatever crosses your mind."

Her grin was infectious, and I couldn't help but grin in reply, 
no matter how much I wanted to be sullen. I was depressed! 
Shouldn't I at least try to _look_ depressed?

Susan punched me lightly in the shoulder and I tried to return to 
being dour. As she pulled her hair into a loose ponytail and then 
covered it with a bandana, I got out of the car. Something about 
Mr. Kestrel's house still looked familiar, but I couldn't figure 
out what it was. I heard Susan get out of the car behind me, and 
watched as she walked towards the courtyard.

Then it hit me! Mr. Kestrel's house was a mirror image of 
Susan's. The courtyard only had a waist-high wall, and that's 
what had confused me at first. Virtually everything was like 
Susan's house, only in reverse, as if someone had flipped the 
building plans upside down. The courtyard had a tiled shower 
area, the kitchen door was the same, the back porch by the master 
bedroom was the same, everything was the same.

"Susan?"

She stopped at the kitchen door and turned. "Yes?"

"Is this house the same as yours?"

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah. The story goes that Dad and Uncle 
Bernie were too cheap to pay for two architects. So they went in 
together and hired only one. When the house plans were completed, 
they flipped a coin to see who would build the house the way it 
was drawn, and who would build the reverse."

"So who won?" I asked.

"Uncle Bernie."

"Why'd it matter who built which?" I asked, confused.

She laughed again. For a moment, I thought she was laughing at 
me, and I began to bristle. But I quickly realized that she was 
laughing at the story. "As I said, both Dad and Uncle Bernie were 
cheap, so whoever lost the coin toss would have to pay to have 
the plans redrafted, in reverse."

"That's kinda dumb," I said. And then I realized that I'd just 
called her father dumb. Oops! I started to apologize, but before 
I could, Susan laughed.

"That's what Mom and Aunt Louise thought," she said, still 
chuckling at the memory. "Well, are you ready to take a look?"

I nodded, and she stuck the key in the lock and turned. We 
stepped into the house and were immediately assaulted by a blast 
of hot, musty air.

"Well," Susan said quickly. "The first thing we're going to do is 
open all the windows."

I nodded and then headed towards the back of the house. The whole 
house still gave me an uneasy feeling of deja vu. It was 
decorated very differently, but the layout was indeed an exact 
reverse of Susan's house. Well, Susan's house was an exact 
reverse of Mr. Kestrel's house, to be precise. But I'd gotten 
used to Susan's house, and would always think of it as the 
original, despite the truth of the matter.

I started in the master bedroom and began opening windows. A few 
of them didn't have screens, so I left them closed, to keep the 
bugs out. The bedroom that corresponded to Kirk's room in Susan's 
house was locked, so I skipped it. It was the only inside door 
with a locking deadbolt, which I thought was odd, especially for 
furniture storage. With a shrug, I put the thought out of my mind 
and went to find Susan.

"Tonight when we leave," she said, "we'll shut the windows and 
start the air conditioner, so it'll cool down overnight."

I nodded.

"But now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get comfortable."

Without waiting for me to answer, she turned around and skimmed 
her bikini bottoms down her legs. For a moment, I wondered why 
she'd turned her back to me to remove them. My eyes automatically 
dropped to the view I had of her smooth pussy lips, and I admired 
them. No matter what she might have felt for me, I still was very 
attracted to her.

She stepped out of her bottoms and then stretched before standing 
up. When she turned, she looked at me mischievously and smiled.

"I still can't believe how much you've changed," she said, 
shaking her head in wonder.

I knew I'd gained weight, but...

"You really do look _so_ good," she said, practically gushing.

"I don't get it," I said. "I don't think I've changed all that 
much. I've even gained weight."

"But Paul, you should see where you've gained it!"

I looked at her, my confusion evident.

"Your mom told me you joined the wrestling team?"

I nodded, still perplexed.

"Well, all that working out has done wonders for you."

"But I've actually _gained_ weight," I said, at a loss for how to 
explain it to her.

"I know," she said simply. "But you've lost your baby fat."

Ugh! I hated that phrase!

She took a step closer to me. "You've gotten hard and muscular." 
She reached out and touched my chest, putting a little pressure 
on her finger. "Your chest is so big, and your shoulders too." 
She stepped even closer and looked up at me seriously. "Paul, you 
looked good before, but now... well... now you look great."

I swallowed hard, still unwilling to believe it. I'd always been 
self-conscious about my body, and especially my weight. I guess 
it would just take me a while to get used to the fact that I 
wasn't the same pudgy kid that I'd been the year before, no 
matter what I felt like.

"And," Susan said slyly, reaching between us. "I think since 
you've trimmed down, something _else_ has grown a little."

I almost jumped out of my skin when her fingers wrapped around my 
flaccid penis. My cock jerked, and began to stiffen in her hand.

"Have you measured it lately," Susan asked, starting to stroke 
me.

I swallowed hard and shook my head.

"That's too bad." She frowned playfully. "I wonder where we can 
find a ruler. Did you see a ruler when you were opening windows?" 
she asked with artful innocence.

I shook my head mutely.

"I didn't either. Pity. Do you think we should measure your 
dick?" she asked.

I shrugged.

"I think we should."

I was completely hard and she squeezed me gently.

"How do you think we should measure you?" she asked.

"Um..."

"Um?"

"Um..." I frantically looked around for something, anything, 
vaguely resembling a ruler.

"I know," Susan said ingeniously. "It won't be scientific, but I 
think we'll get some good results."

"What?" I asked, completely befuddled.

She merely smiled at me and then sank to her knees. I watched, 
rapt, as she steadied my shaft with her hand and opened her 
mouth. Her lips closed over the head of my cock and I immediately 
felt lightheaded. Once she had the tip of my dick captured, she 
put her hands on my hips and began to take more of me in her 
mouth.

When she had about half my length in her mouth, she paused and 
moved her tongue over the underside of my shaft. I groaned and 
she opened her mouth to engulf more of my dick. Her mouth slid 
over me and I felt the tip enter the back of her throat. She 
clamped her lips over my shaft, about an inch and half from the 
base, and made an appreciative sound, deep in her chest.

Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath, and then she 
opened her lips and began to take the last of my cock down her 
throat. I grunted when she gripped my hips and pulled me forward, 
pressing her nose into my pubic hair. I could feel her chin 
pressing against my balls, and I never wanted to pull my cock 
from her mouth again.

The feeling of her lips around the absolute base of my shaft was 
the most heavenly thing I'd felt in a long time, nearly as good 
as Amy's super-tight pussy. When Susan moved her tongue along the 
base of my cock, I knew it was better than any pussy. She moaned, 
deep in her throat, and shook her head side-to-side. I clamped my 
eyes shut in ecstasy and groaned.

Finally, she began to pull back, dragging her lips along my 
saliva-slick length. As she did, she flicked her tongue along the 
underside ridge, sending waves of pure pleasure directly from my 
cock to my brain. When her lips dragged over the sensitive glans, 
I gasped. It had been so long, so very long, since I'd had my 
dick that far back in a woman's throat, and it felt good.

I reached for Susan's head, intending to thrust myself back in 
her mouth. To my surprise, she pulled back, and I looked down 
into her twinkling eyes.

"I think it might _be_ a bit longer," she said matter-of-factly.

With a teasing grin, she stood up. I looked at her goggle-eyed 
and her grin widened.

"You mean... I mean... you're not... are you... you can't... I
mean..." I 
sputtered incoherently.

"Yes?" She batted her eyes coquettishly.

I wanted to scream.

"You were saying?" she asked sweetly.

I closed my mouth with a clomp.

"You do look _really_ good, Paul," she said softly, and then 
stood on tiptoe to give me a kiss on the lips. When she pulled 
back, she smiled innocently. "So, let's take a look around and 
figure out how we want to do this. Shall we?"

I sputtered some more, mostly incoherently, but Susan pretended 
to ignore me. I mutely followed her towards the dining room, my 
hard-on bouncing gently before me.

What had just happened? I had been convinced that she wasn't 
interested in me any longer. Was I wrong? I must have been. But... 
But why hadn't she finished sucking me off? Why did she just 
swallow me the one time? Why...? Why did I ever think I understood 
women?

-----

Once we removed most of the plain white sheets covering the 
furniture, I realized that Mr. Kestrel's house was one big 
dichotomy. On one hand, a lot of the house was impeccably neat, 
tidy to the point of fastidiousness. Other parts of the house 
were disheveled and looked almost ransacked.

There were lighter spots on the walls where pictures used to 
hang. In the living room, both end tables had been searched, but 
little else was touched. In the second bedroom, which served as 
an office, it looked like the aftermath of a tornado, with papers 
and file folders that had obviously been pulled from drawers and 
stacked at random. The dining room had definitely been gone 
through as well, while the kitchen was practically untouched.

As I looked around, the reason became clear. After his father 
died, it looked like Gregory had little time, energy, or both, 
and he quickly went through the house looking for his father's 
business papers and family heirlooms. He had packed up a number 
of things, but I guess the rest of it didn't mean much to him.

"Why did Mr. Kestrel's son leave all this stuff?" I asked as 
Susan and I stood together in the dining room. There was some 
really nice furniture in there, and I couldn't imagine anyone 
wanting to donate it to the Salvation Army.

"I think Gregory was..." She paused for a moment, searching for the 
right words. "Well, Greg and his dad hadn't gotten along together 
since Greg's mom died," she said sadly.

"When was that?"

"Hmmm?" Susan looked at me blankly for a moment, and I could tell 
she was lost in thought. "Oh, sorry. I guess it was probably 20 
years ago. It was a hard time for Greg, what with... Well, it was a 
hard time for Greg, for a lot of different reasons."

She drifted through her memories again, and a look of regret 
crossed her face. I don't even think she realized it, and I 
wanted to ask her what she was thinking about, but the moment 
passed. She took a deep breath and looked at me with what was 
obviously a forced smile.

"Why would they not get along?" I asked. "I kinda figured that 
they'd be closer after that."

Susan looked at me seriously for a moment, as if judging me. Then 
she snorted in self-derision. "Well, if I can't trust you, I 
can't trust anyone," she said quietly. "Greg's mom committed 
suicide, and then four months later, his dad married the woman 
who had been his mistress."

I looked at Susan in disbelief. She shook her head sadly. I 
didn't really know any of these people, but it was still kind of 
a shock to hear what had happened to them.

"Uncle Bernie's new wife was actually Greg's age, 23 at the time, 
and he'd been seeing her even before Aunt Louise killed herself. 
Greg never forgave him. I think Gregory just wants to be done 
with his father, and done with this place," Susan said, gesturing 
at the house around us. "There are too many bad memories for him 
here."

I nodded. "What happened to Mr. Kestrel's second wife?" I asked 
quietly.

"Oh, she died about three years ago. Her name was Alice," Susan 
said distractedly. "She was actually a nice woman. It was cancer. 
Gregory told me that he and his dad reconciled after she died, 
but their relationship was still strained. Too many years and too 
many hard feelings, I guess."

"Yeah."

Susan tried to cheer herself up by smiling forcibly, but it 
didn't look like it worked. Unfortunately, I had no idea what to 
say to her, or what to do. She was quiet for another moment or 
two, lost in thought. Finally, she clapped her hands together and 
looked around the room.

"Well, let's get this show on the road!" she said, with affected 
enthusiasm. "Why don't we get Gregory's list and see what we can 
find. And while we're at it, let's keep an eye out for the keys 
to that bedroom."

Susan retrieved the list we'd left in the kitchen, while I taped 
together one of the moving boxes we'd brought in from the car. 
Gregory was thorough enough to break down his list by what room 
he suspected things were in, and we quickly located most of them. 
The dining room furniture was on the list, and Susan said that 
we'd have it moved to storage for him. The files from the second 
bedroom were also on the list, and they would be put in storage 
as well.

After those two major items, the rest of the list consisted of 
things that we might run across: photo albums, anything from Mr. 
Kestrel's military service (he was a retired Marine Corps Major), 
anything that obviously belonged to Greg's mother, and things 
like that. It took us about an hour to go through the house, and 
during that time, Susan's mood improved, slowly, but surely.

We decided to get some file boxes from the car and pack up the 
second bedroom first, since it would be easy to simply stuff them 
with files. We continued filling the file boxes, and true to our 
expectations, it was fairly easy work; we started to make some 
real progress.

The house was hot, and with so many old files, the office was 
musty. After about an hour of work, Susan called for a break and 
went to the kitchen to get us glasses of water.

"Would you believe there was actually ice in the freezer?" she 
asked when she returned.

She handed me a tall glass of water that was already heavily 
beaded with sweat. I took it and quickly downed about half the 
glass.

"Gregory had the good sense to clean out the refrigerator when he 
was here, but he left the ice trays, and must have even filled 
them up."

The cubes were small, probably from evaporation, but they were 
undeniably ice. I took another long swallow of the cool water. 
When I lowered my head, Susan was looking at me with a 
mischievous twinkle in her eye, and I began to get nervous. As I 
shifted from foot to foot, she grinned at me and ran her cold 
glass across her left nipple. The areola puckered and was left 
with a coating of fine water droplets.

When I looked into her eyes, she smirked and moved the glass over 
her right nipple. It also puckered, and when I looked back up at 
Susan's face, she licked her lips suggestively. My penis went 
from flaccid to semi-erect in two microseconds. She noticed, and 
grinned appreciatively. Maybe I'd been wrong about her, I 
thought, and more importantly, wrong about how she felt about me.

"Just making sure you're still paying attention," she said.

She took another long drink of water, and I watched her throat 
work as she swallowed. As I'm sure she intended, I thought about 
my cock being at the back of her throat, and I became a little 
bit harder, though not fully erect.

Susan reached out, took my nearly empty glass, and headed back 
towards the kitchen, looking over her shoulder to make sure I was 
watching her. Believe me, I was. She returned a few minutes later 
with refilled glasses (albeit without more ice) and paper towels. 
We wrapped the paper towels around the bases of the glasses, to 
keep the condensation from dripping on anything, and each took 
long drinks. Her gaze lingered upon my semi-hard cock, and then 
she set her glass down.

"Are you ready to..." She drew out the question and I leaned 
forward in anticipation, holding my breath. "...get back to work?"

I let my breath out explosively and she flashed me a wry grin. I 
nodded hesitantly, still unsure of myself. What was it about 
Susan that made me so insecure? It was driving me crazy!

She waggled her eyebrows at me and started filling a box with 
files. With a heavy sigh, I joined her.

We worked like that for another hour, and had most of the filing 
cabinets emptied. We'd used up all the file boxes she'd brought 
with her, but fortunately, the only thing we had left to clean 
out was the desk itself. We could simply store most of its 
contents in moving boxes.

The whole time we'd been working, however, Susan contrived to 
brush up against me, bend over in front of me, or flash me in 
some way, keeping me in a constant state of at least semi-
erection. From her sly glances, I could tell that she was doing 
it on purpose, and my hopes (as well as my cock) slowly rose.

We also talked while we worked, mostly about simple stuff, 
nothing earth shattering. I told Susan about my wrestling season, 
and about how much I'd really come to enjoy lifting weights and 
working out. I told her about some of my friends, but I felt 
guilty whenever I mentioned Amy, so I changed the subject if she 
came up.

Susan told me about the goings on at the camp during the off-
season, and who was set to arrive and when. Mr. Kershaw, one of 
the year-round residents, took care of all the reservations 
themselves, but Susan always had her finger on the pulse of the 
camp.

By the time we were ready to break for lunch, I was starving. 
While I wiped down the kitchen table, Susan got out some plates 
and refilled our water glasses. By then, the freshly filled ice 
trays were mostly frozen, and we enjoyed cold water with our 
lunch. Susan had fixed ham and cheese sandwiches--two large ones 
for me and a smaller one for her--and brought along some potato 
chips. I attacked my lunch with a vengeance, while Susan merely 
grinned at me and ate hers in a much more ladylike fashion.

After lunch, we relaxed for a little bit, and decided to finish 
the rest of the office before we called it an early day. I had 
high hopes when Susan mentioned that she wanted to take it easy, 
so we wouldn't be worn out come mid-afternoon. I, of course, 
agreed completely, no matter what the reason.

I went out to the station wagon to fetch some more moving boxes 
while Susan headed towards the second bedroom to start cleaning 
out the desk. When I arrived, cardboard boxes stuffed under my 
arm, she looked at me smugly. I arched an eyebrow at her and she 
held up a rubber band with a key dangling from it.

"Oh, cool," I said. "Where was it?"

"In a little drawer here," Susan said, pointing towards the desk. 
"Under a bunch of rubber bands, not surprisingly."

"I guess I can see why Gregory didn't find it, then."

She nodded. "Let's finish up here, and then we'll check out the 
other bedroom before we leave for the afternoon. Okay?"

I nodded, and began assembling moving boxes. During lunch, my 
erection had finally subsided, and once she started clearing out 
the desk, Susan was too busy to effectively tease me. I think we 
both wanted to finish the office so we could take a cold shower 
and get cleaned up. And then... who knew what would happen? I was 
actually beginning to look forward to the rest of the afternoon.

-----

"Okay," Susan said as we closed the last of the boxes and 
surveyed the completely packed bedroom-cum-office. "That wasn't 
so hard."

I shook my head. It hadn't been all that difficult, but I was 
glad we were done.

"You ready to see what kind of furniture Uncle Bernie has stuffed 
in that other bedroom?"

I nodded and followed her down the hall. Sure enough, the key fit 
the door, and with a little difficulty, Susan unlocked it. I was 
fully expecting to see a room piled high with furniture, and I 
suppose she was too. So when she opened the door and flipped on 
the lights, we both stood there for a few minutes, dumbfounded.

After a stretch of stunned silence, she stepped hesitantly into 
the room and I followed her. We both simply stared.

Thick, heavy drapes covered the two windows floor-to-ceiling, 
effectively cutting off all outside light. The room had had four 
and only four pieces of furniture in it: a large, stout four-
poster bed; an armoire, with its doors open; a sturdy padded 
bench; and a comfortable-looking chair.

The armoire captured our attention first. It was filled with all 
sorts of ropes, handcuffs, whips, paddles, leather things whose 
purpose I could only guess at, and dozens of things that I 
couldn't readily identify.  Below all the hanging trappings were 
two closed drawers.

As I looked around, I slowly realized that an entire wall of the 
room was padded, with pulleys at the floor and ceiling. The bench 
itself had eyebolts in it, and when I looked at the chair, I 
realized that there were even a few in it as well. The bed not 
only had eyebolts screwed into each thick post, there were ropes 
and clasps attached to each one. At the end of each rope was a 
thick leather cuff with a padded lining.

"Wow," Susan breathed.

"Yeah."

"No wonder he kept this room locked," she said.

"What _is_ all this stuff?"

Susan turned to me and grinned. "It's a bondage playroom, that's 
what it is."

"Huh?"

"Bondage, Paul. You know."

I shook my head.

"Sometimes," she said, smiling gently, "I forget how young you 
are."

I started to bristle, but she laid a comforting hand on my arm.

"I don't mean that in a bad way," she said soothingly.

"So... what's a... bondage playroom?" I asked, curious and a little 
bit annoyed.

She walked towards the armoire and began to explain. By the time 
she was done, I was aroused and a little scared. I guess I didn't 
see the appeal of tying someone up and spanking or whipping them.

But when she opened the upper drawer on the bottom of the 
armoire, we were both in for a bigger shock. It held stacks of 
magazines, and shoeboxes that we quickly discovered were full of 
pictures. Susan pulled out some of the pictures, and we quickly 
recognized the room we were in.

Most of the pictures were several years old, and some of them 
were even older. They all showed people, mostly women, tied up. 
In some of them, a man I assumed was Bernie Kestrel was fucking a 
bound woman. Susan quickly pointed out Alice, Mr. Kestrel's 
second wife, in some of the pictures, but other photos were of 
different women entirely.

"Uncle Bernie sure did keep this a secret," Susan said. "I don't 
even think Greg knew about this room. If he did, he surely 
wouldn't have asked me to take care of the house for him."

She put the lids back on the boxes and picked up one of the 
magazines. As she leafed through it, I realized that it was more 
about fucking than what Susan called "discipline." There were 
pictures of people tied up, men and women both, though mostly 
women. The women were usually tied up so that their legs were 
spread, allowing easy access to their pussies. Although I didn't 
really like the pictures where people were merely being tied up, 
some of the ones with people having sex were actually arousing.

I felt my penis stiffen, and tried to turn away. I didn't want 
Susan to see that some of the pictures turned me on. 
Unfortunately, of course, she did.

"You like some of these pictures, Paul?" she asked, teasing me.

"No."

She reached around my body and felt for my erection. When she 
found it, she latched onto it and squeezed gently. "For not being 
turned on," she said, "you sure are hard."

Using my dick for leverage, she pulled me back around to face her 
and dropped the magazine back into the drawer. She started to 
stroke my erection, and I couldn't help but groan. I averted my 
eyes, too ashamed to look at her. I was sure she would be 
disgusted with me.

"You like the idea of tying someone up and fucking them?" she 
asked, still stroking my shaft.

I shook my head vehemently, but my dick betrayed my true 
feelings. Treacherous organ!

"You do," she practically purred.

I shook my head again, trying to deny the obvious. With her knee, 
Susan closed the drawer and then stepped close to me. I could 
feel the heat radiating off her body. I could smell the scent of 
her sweat and of her arousal, and it turned me on even more.

"Do you want to tie me up and fuck me?" she asked.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded sharply, trying to will my erection to subside.

She looked around quickly and her eyes locked on the bed. I could 
see the wheels turning in her mind and was half scared, half 
consumed with lust. In a flash, Susan was on her knees with my 
cock in her mouth, intent on swallowing me whole.

She pulled back for a moment and swirled her tongue around my 
sensitive glans, causing me to shudder. I looked down my torso at 
her, hoping to make eye contact, but she was concentrating on my 
dick, teasing the tip with her tongue. She took the first few 
inches into her mouth and clamped her lips around my girth. I 
wanted to put my hands on the back of her head and force myself 
into her mouth, but I restrained myself.

When she wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft and began 
to bob her head, I closed my eyes and groaned. After getting 
worked up with no release in the morning, and then all the day's 
teasing, I was ready to burst. All I wanted to do was fuck her 
mouth and then bury my dick in her throat as I came.

I had just decided to take her head in my hands when she pulled 
back and looked up at me with lust-crazed eyes. When she stood 
up, I nearly cried out in frustration. She started to back away 
from me, never breaking eye contact, and I followed her. Without 
waiting for me to reach her, she backed onto the center of the 
bed.

Finally, I snapped. "You want me to tie you up and fuck you?" I 
growled.

"I don't care," she said. "Just fuck me."

I pushed her onto her back and climbed up beside her. My cock 
throbbed as I thought about cuffing her to the bed, and she 
offered no resistance when I grabbed her left wrist. My grip 
could hold a struggling wrestler weighing half again as much as 
she did, I wasn't worried about her getting away.

"Fuck me, Paul," she said.

I grabbed one of the cuffs and strapped it around her wrist, 
cinching it tight. I grabbed her right wrist and leaned across 
her body to bind it in the other cuff. My hard-on dragged across 
her hot skin as I did, and we both enjoyed the contact.

"Oh, God. Paul, please."

I turned and grabbed one ankle, securing it with one of the cuffs 
at the foot of the bed. In a moment, her other ankle was secured 
as well, leaving her legs spread slightly. I gently rubbed my 
finger over her smooth slit and found her already very moist. She 
shuddered and lifted her hips at the contact, but I quickly moved 
my finger away. She had been teasing me all day, and I wanted to 
exact a measure of revenge while I took my pleasure.

I turned around and straddled her midsection, looking down at the 
luscious breasts that had been so much a part of my masturbation 
fantasies. I tweaked her nipples and she moaned. My cock was 
still slick from her saliva, and had begun to ooze pre-come. I 
wiped the tip and then lifted my finger to her mouth. She 
hungrily sucked on it, tonguing it like I knew she wanted to 
treat my manhood.

"Fuck me," she said, grinding her hips into the air, almost 
pleading with me.

"I will," I said calmly.

Susan looked into my eyes and then her expression became a little 
alarmed. She pulled on one rope, and then the other, but found 
that her hands were securely bound. I lifted my hips and scooted 
forward a little, so my cock was bobbing only a few inches above 
her mouth. She raised her head and tried to capture it, but I 
pulled it out of her reach. She made a raw animal noise of lust 
tinged with frustration, and I grinned at her.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her situation finally 
becoming clear.

I could hear the desire in her voice, and in a flash of insight, 
I knew what I wanted to do.

"You'll see," I said coolly.

-----

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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