By Louetta

Labor Day. 4P.M. Summer camp. The last batch of kids is gone.
During the summer they leave on Sundays by 10:30AM. They stay for
a week and get kicked out in the morning so a new batch can
arrive starting Sunday afternoon. This week, because of the
holiday, they get an extra day but they still get kicked out by
10:30. Then we stow away our gear for the winter and we’re done.

I’m going for one more swim up the lake. Lengthwise its ¾ of a
mile up to the town beach at the other end where I used to work.
This year I worked here because they were desperate for
lifeguards. If the town has no lifeguards they just close the
beach but these people lose money if they can’t open. Whatever,
next year I’m going to work at the horse farm because the
company’s better. I collect my last batch of stuff from my room
and stash it in my car. Actually its Dad’s car but its mine all
summer.

I’m still in my bright orange tank suit from work, in hopes that
that makes it less likely some yahoo will run over me with his
boat. Three of the guy lifeguards lean over the fence overlooking
the dock as I head for the water. Kristin is down there taking
her own last swim. I look at her too, there in the sun, blond
hair shining, her puppy brown body encased in a purple bikini,
wet skin shimmering in the light. The guys don’t like her. They
think she’s a snob. She pays them no attention and they don’t
like it. They say they’re going to get her back. I tell them not
to get fired an hour before quitting time and head down the
stairs.

On the dock I grab the one hot dog float we left out of storage.
Rules say I have to carry one with me whenever I’m on the water
but I really want it in case I get clunked on the head by a canoe
or something. I walk out to the end of the dock where Kristin is
squeezing water out of her hair. She really is gorgeous. Her
purple two piece suit is still wet and glued to her skin. It has
a skimpy tube top held up by a gold string that goes around the
back of her neck and attaches between her boobs. The bottom is
fairly modest compared to a lot of the things people wear but
she’s so cute she’d look good in a potato sack.

Coming up behind her she’s turned away from me and I can
appreciate her agile little behind, the little blond fox hairs
that adorn her unshaven brown legs. Hearing me approach she
stands up and faces me, hands still in her hair, inadvertently
pushing her tits out at me, cute little biceps flexing in her
arms, her body thin enough so I can count her ribs, the hint of a
six pack on her brown little tummy, slender school girl thighs. I
feel like Goliath, she is seven inches shorter than I am but I
smile because, however many inches she has, they are absolutely
beautiful.

“Hi,” she smiles back. They may think she’s a snob but you
couldn’t tell as she gabs away about stuff, mostly about me.
Talking back to her I think not about what we’re saying but about
the daisy fresh girl in front of me, her snub nose cuteness, her
wet glistening body, the neat little breasts hidden snow white
beneath her bra, nipples peeking through the silky fabric, the
firmness of her thighs, the little trail of flossy hair that
leads from her most delightful little bellybutton to the plump
little hillock between her thighs covered neatly by the wet
purple cloth that disappears between her legs.

While she politely asks me how it feels to be going away to
college I politely think to myself how it would feel to reach out
with both hands and strip her naked right there on the dock. I
wonder what the guys are thinking saying they’re going to get her
back. I know they can’t touch her without ending up in jail and
so do they. “Wanna go?” I ask, motioning to the water. “No,
thanks,” she smiles again. She went once and she can swim but its
really too far. I sit on the dock, cap on, goggles on, the
elastic band of the hotdog float around my ankle instead of my
wrist where it’s supposed to go. “Bye, Kristin.” “Bye.” I’m in
the water and off.

With the season over I didn’t know when or if I’d see her again.
But she had done me a service. It wasn’t often I got turned on by
a girl and I found when I did it was more like a cool fire in my
abdomen than the hotter one that burned between my legs for a
boy. Nevertheless it was very useful when, in bed at night, my
hands gently busy on my body, I used the memory of the experience
to solve the problem that was best solved by a boning from an
unavailable boy.

The water’s warm and it feels good to swim somewhere and not have
to worry about whether the sweep hand will beat me there, not to
mention some other girl. Every so often I had to look up to make
sure some clown wasn’t bearing down on me in a boat but other
than that it was pure luxury. It was a half mile to the float in
front of a summer house on this small point that stuck out two
thirds of the way down the lake to the public beach.

There, during the summer, lived a cop I met when I life guarded
for the town. They used to bring us coolattas and munchkins from
Dunkin Donuts, stuff I’d never pay for but the cops got it free.
He sat on the shore with two other men I didn’t know and while I
hung on the float they drank beer and he talked about the coming
hunting season. I don’t like hunting but I was much too well
brought up to tell him that to his face. He offered me a beer and
I politely declined. I think beer tastes like cat piss. That’s
actually just a saying, of course, I have no idea what cat piss
tastes like.

After a half hour or more I was off on the extra quarter of a
mile to the town beach. I spent an hour there talking to the
guards and a few patrons I remembered from when I worked there.
Our beach was empty but the town beach was full. The town beach
couldn’t tell the taxpayers they had to leave at 10:30 like our
camp could. Finally I headed back into the water, took the time
to pee and headed out. Going past the cops place I rolled on my
back to wave to him and kept going.

The silence was indeed golden. Nary a boat to be seen and me in
open water. Fifteen minutes later I was approaching the dock at
our camp in a lazy breaststroke. Fifty yards off shore I stopped
and stuck my head up out of the water. What I saw both amazed and
excited me. There, to one side of the dock, her lean brown body
still shining in the now falling sun, still resplendent in her
purple bikini, was Kristin. There standing between the two posts
from which until a few hours ago had hung the blackboard on which
was written the daily schedule. There, arms stretched full length
at a forty five degree angle, legs spread wide to either side,
her wrists and ankles tied tightly to ropes which bound her to
the posts. They had got back at her.

I switched to a freestyle and in a minute I was on the beach,
stopping only to disengage my ankle from the hotdog float I still
dragged behind me. As I ran up to her she hung her head. I put my
hand on her cheek and raised her head gently so she looked me in
the eye. “Are you hurt?” I asked. She shook her head softly no.
“Did they do anything to you?” again no. “How long have you been
here?” This time she answered me. “I don’t know, maybe an hour.”

I couldn’t help myself. Here was this absolutely gorgeous girl,
half naked, helpless. I held her gaze and let my hand drop from
her cheek so my fingers traced down her neck, across to the
middle of her chest down along the inside of her right breast.
Softly I brought the other hand up and traced the outline of the
top edge of her bikini out across the soft brown skin that formed
the top of her tits. Then back in again stopping to touch her
nipples with my thumbs. They were so hard they looked like they’d
come through the fabric of her top.

She closed her eyes and quivered slightly. I fingered the gold
string that clipped on the middle of her bra and climbed her bare
chest to disappear underneath her hair. “I’m going to take this
off,” I said. “Ok,” she said softly drawing in a quick breath. My
fingertips caressed the white skin between her tits as I unhooked
both ends of the gold string and pushed it up her chest til my
hands disappeared underneath her hair. Softly I stroked her neck
and she breathed in hard a couple of times.

I pulled the string off her neck and moved my hands back to her
tits. The strain of her arms being pulled up and out over her
head had pulled the bottom edge of her bra up far enough to
expose most lower half of the tender white skin underneath it. I
let my fingers slip down between her tits and now lightly traced
the lower edge of her bikini top. This time she scrunched her
eyes tighter and raised her chin higher and let out an audible
gasp. This time I was touching real tit. It was as soft and
smooth and white as a baby’s bottom.

I gently caressed the skin between my thumbs and fingers and her
breath came in little gasps. Dropping my hands a little I traced
her ribcage out and down either side and the over to her navel.
Then one hand down the little flossy path to the elastic band at
the top of her bikini bottoms. Eyes still closed she raised her
chin a little further. I slipped all four fingers under the
elastic and pulled the front of her bottoms slightly away from
her body, then pushed my fingertips down along the fabric til I
got to the part that covered her pussy. It was soaking wet.

That was all I wanted inside her pants, to make sure she wanted
it. I wasn’t interested in her pussy but I was interested in
every other part of her. I couldn’t wait to get her naked. I put
my left hand on her right cheek and she opened her eyes. My hand
was still in her pants, my fingertips gently rubbing against the
silky hair. “OK?” I asked her. She exhaled. “OK”. It was almost a
whisper. My right hand still in her pants I ran my left up her
arm to where her wrist was tied. “Is this all right?” She nodded
yes. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

I dropped the gold string that had helped hold up her top down
into her pants and gave it a little shove with my fingertips
trying to get it down there so she could feel it against her
pussy lips. Then I left her hanging there, an appetizing little
piece of ass in the setting sun. 

louetta_keene@yahoo.com

  
Later On - Kristin