Different

The Girls of Summer

HER BARED BREASTS HARDENED

"Well," Pat smiled as she sat down on the edge of the bed and reached her hand to touch June's bare belly, "for one thing, do you realize you haven't even kissed me hello yet?"

June gulped hard and giggled nervously once again. "Haven't I?" She leaned her head forward and put a quick, passionless kiss against Pat's lips. As her friend opened her mouth and her tongue began to wriggle out of it to prod into June's mouth, she pulled her head back and asked, "Better?"

Pat blinked in confusion. "It sure isn't, honey, not from someone I made love to all last summer and haven't seen in six months. That's the kind of kiss I'd give to my grandmother."

Slowly, as that long pink tongue kept pushing at her closed lips, June's mouth opened no more than a crack. It was all Pat needed to wedge her tongue inside. As it rushed into June's mouth, she felt an electric tingle shoot down into the pit of her belly and the nipples on her bared breasts began to harden and push out against Pat's stroking fingers.

CHAPTER ONE

"All right, girls! Quiet down!" Pat Fulton put her hands on her hips and shouted in her most authoritative voice to bring the dozen or so teenage girls ringed around her to order. As the babble of conversation and laughter continued without letup, she stuck the bright silver whistle hung around her neck into her mouth and gave it an ear-splitting blast.

"I said quiet down!" she warned a second time, turning her head quickly from face to face, a dark frown of anger creasing her forehead. The majority of the girls in the group ranged in age from thirteen to sixteen. Although Pat herself had just turned twenty, she had enough of an age difference on her side to command respect and attention from the younger girls in her charge. When she flashed her large dark eyes and knit her jet-black brows in a slash of disapproval, even the boldest of them became instantly quiet.

"If there's one thing you're all going to learn before you've been at the Summer Sisters Girls Camp very much longer," she declared, "it's that when a Big Sister like myself tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. Does everyone understand that?"

Most of the girls nodded their heads up and down quickly, their faces reflecting their fear of Pat and of being at the camp itself. For many of them it was the first time they'd ever been away from home for a night in their lives, and a few looked like they were on the brink of tears. One of the older girls, however, seemed determined to make a reputation for herself with the counselor on the very first night of camp.

"What if you tell us to do something we don't think we should do?" a voice in the little group questioned.

"Who asked me that?" Pat growled, turning her head quickly around in the direction where the girl's voice had come from. She felt herself stiffen slightly inside as she confronted a face she had noticed earlier, when all the camp counselors had met the summer group at the local train station. Pat had suspected from her first glance at the girl that she was going to prove to be trouble. Staring into her deep blue eyes once again, she was almost certain of it. She'd been a girls camp counselor long enough to recognize that look at once. "Oh, you," she muttered. Her eyebrows tightened in another frown, but the girl's eyes stared right back at her in challenge. "Aren't you the one who was making all the fuss at the train station?" she snapped.

"I was questioning why we had to ride all the way up here in that cattle car you called a bus, yes," she answered. "At the camp I went to last summer, they sent private limousines into town to pick us up."

"Then why didn't you go back to that camp this summer?" Pat asked as sweetly as she could manage her voice to sound, but the hard line around her mouth betrayed the truth of her feelings.

For a moment, the girl seemed completely flustered. Her stare darted away from Pat's face and she shifted her stance nervously. "I-I -- didn't go back there because I was bored with the place," she declared after a hesitant start.

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to be bored with this camp, too," Pat hinted, "unless you learn to follow orders like the rest of the girls. What's your name?"

"Roxanne," she said. "Roxanne Thomas."

"And how old are you, Roxanne?"

"I'm seventeen," she answered quickly.

"Little liar!" Pat thought to herself. "If you're a day over sixteen I'm Grandma Moses!"

Aloud, however, she asked, "Don't you think that's a little young to be making decisions for yourself?"

"Not at all," the girl said, with a haughty toss of the mane of long brown hair tumbling over her shoulders. "I've been doing it all my life."

"I doubt that, Roxanne," Pat muttered, aware that she and the girl were now heavily in the midst of a confrontation for leadership of the others in the group. The results of this first showdown might well determine who held the ultimate authority for the rest of the summer.

"I have, too!" Roxanne insisted. Then, as though it were something she was proud and anxious to have the others standing around her in the group know, she added, "My parents are divorced. I spend half the year with my mother and half with my father, but they both let me do whatever I want to when I'm with them."

"But you're not with them now," Pat seethed. "You're with me. And I'm being paid by the owners of this camp to see that all of you girls obey my instructions for the summer. I don't mean some of you, either. I mean all. If that's not perfectly understood by you, Roxanne -- as well as anyone else here who thinks they know more about camp life than I do -- then perhaps you'd better speak to Mrs. Marchant about getting a train home in the morning."

With satisfaction, she noticed the others shift ever so slightly away from Roxanne and lower their heads in obedience. At least the first round was hers, she thought.

"Is that understood?" she asked the girl.

"Oh, I guess so," Roxanne sighed heavily. "I find authority such a bore, though."

"Well, then, my girl," Pat thought grimly, "you're going to have a helluva boring summer with me!"

"What if one Big Sister tells us to do something and you tell us to do something different?" another girl in the group asked, but her question was genuine and held none of the cockiness of Roxanne's.

Pat turned her head and stared at the pretty little blonde who'd spoken up. She looked about the same age as Roxanne, and Pat had noticed her, too, at the train station in town, although for an entirely different reason. She felt a little flutter race through her pulse as she met the girl's eyes. The stare she found in them was bold, but not challenging.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"I'm Mimsy Colberg," the girl told her.

"Mimsy, huh?" Pat thought with interest. "A cute name for an even cuter little doll. Maybe you're going to be trouble for me this summer, too, honey. With all those pretty blonde curls, you could be big trouble."

"Well, Mimsy," she said aloud, hoping the sudden softening of her tone wouldn't too obviously betray her feelings to the other girls, "if that ever does happen, you do what I tell you. The way this camp is set up, each of us Big Sisters is in charge of about a dozen of you girls and for each of us you're our sole responsibility. If another Big Sister tells you to do something you think is questionable, check with me first. The only exception would be if Mrs. Marchant herself gave you an order. Okay?"

"Okay," Mimsy said with a little girl's smile that brought a quick ache of yearning to Pat's heart.

"You are going to be trouble," she thought with dismay. She was well enough aware of her sexual feelings for other girls -- especially cute little blondes like Mimsy, who were such a thrilling contrast to her own dark-haired good looks -- to know when there was a danger that she might not be able to control herself in certain situations. From the first moment her eyes had meet Mimsy Colberg's, Pat had known she'd have to watch herself around the girl all summer to be sure they were never alone together long enough for one of those situations to develop. Mrs. Marchant, the camp's principal owner, was a kindly, understanding woman, but Pat was certain her sympathies did not reach far enough to forgive any counselor caught trying to seduce one of the girl campers. No matter how cute and appealing she might be, or how difficult the temptation was to resist. As Pat's upcoming senior year in college was entirely dependent upon the money she would earn that summer as a counselor at the camp, she could not afford to take chances and knew she would have to watch her step around Mimsy very carefully.

"Are there any other questions before you go to the showers and turn in for the night?" she asked. The girls had already eaten their dinner in the main dining hall shortly after their arrival and in another hour at the most she would be free of them. She wondered if June was finished with her group yet and was already waiting for her in bed in the cabin they shared. Whether she knew it or not, Pat thought, June was in for a hot lovemaking session that night. She could feel the need inside her growing stronger with each passing moment.

"Are you going to sleep with us?" one of the youngest girls asked, in a voice that sounded ready to break into sobs at any second.

"No, honey," Pat smiled with tenderness. "I have a little cabin of my own that I share with another Big Sister. It's very close to the large cabin where you girls will sleep, though, so don't be afraid of anything. I'll be close by, if you need me." Her eyes couldn't help straying in Mimsy Colberg's direction as she uttered the last words.

"Why can't you sleep with us?" the frightened girl sobbed.

"Because Mrs. Marchant wants you to develop a sense of being on your own," she explained, adding for Roxanne's benefit, "Under our supervision, of course, when necessary."

"But I've never slept in the woods before!" the girl cried, as tears began to run down both cheeks.

"What if a bear comes in our cabin during the night?" another of the younger girls sobbed.

"Or a snake?" a third chorused.

Sensing that in another minute she'd have full-scale panic on her hands and it would be hours before she could settle the girls down and get back to June, Pat quickly assumed her authoritative air.

"Don't act like such little babies!" she snapped. "The youngest of you must be at least twelve years old to be at this camp in the first place and when I was twelve I was already acting like a young lady. The next thing I know, you'll be crying because you don't have your doll baby or your teddy bear to cuddle up with when you go to sleep."

The psychology seemed to work. The girls who'd been on the brink of tears quickly wiped at their eyes and noses and tried their best to look suddenly grown-up. The girl who'd started the fuss, however, still wasn't entirely satisfied.

"Couldn't you just sleep with us this first night?" she pleaded. "Just so we see for sure there's nothing to be afraid of?"

"Not on your life, honey!" Pat thought to herself. "Not the way I'm feeling tonight! And definitely not with that cute little blonde puss over there sleeping in the same cabin!"

"No," she said aloud, gently but firmly. "Mrs. Marchant would be very upset with me if I did that. She wants you girls to become young ladies during the summer, so your parents will be proud of you."

"And so they'll send us back to this dump again next year, too," Roxanne snorted.

Several of the girls giggled behind their hands as Pat shot her an angry look. "If you're unhappy here so soon, Roxanne," she hissed, "I've already told you what you can do. Perhaps your parents can still get you in the camp they sent you to last year."

She noticed the girl's throat bob as she swallowed hard and once again shifted herself nervously from foot to foot. "I didn't say I was unhappy here," she answered. "At least not yet."

"Well if it all gets too unbearable," Pat cracked, "just let me know and I'll speak to Mrs. Marchant for you."

"What are we supposed to call you?" Roxanne asked.

"I don't understand what you mean. I told you at dinner; my name's Pat."

"Do you want us to call you Big Sister Pat?" Roxanne smirked. "Or just Sister Pat?"

"This is not a convent, Roxanne," she growled, squeezing her fingers into tight fists against her palms in an effort to keep her mounting anger against the girl under control. "You can call me Pat. Period."

"Okay," the girl smiled wickedly, "Pat Period."

Throwing her another warning glance as a second twitter of giggles ran through the group, Pat put her arm around the frightened girl's shoulders and began to lead her toward the shower cabin.

"All of you come with me now," she called. "Our group was scheduled to be in the showers five minutes ago, so we'll have to hurry. Mrs. Marchant gets very upset if one group holds up another for any reason."

"Are there any bears in these woods?" the young camper asked as she hurried alongside Pat.

"No!" she laughed. "Of course not!"

"Any snakes?"

"No! Only the harmless kind -- the little ones -- and they're more scared of you than you are of them. Nothing's going to come in your cabin, honey, except maybe a squirrel. You're not afraid of squirrels, are you?"

"No..."

"You're going to be a big girl this summer, aren't you? So when your parents ask Mrs. Marchant what kind of camper you've been, she'll be able to tell them a good one?"

"Yes." The girl nodded her head anxiously, looking up into Pat's face with an expression that was almost worshipful. It was a common thing for the youngest campers to develop an attachment for their Big Sister, Pat knew. The danger came when Big Sister liked little girls too much in return and wanted to move the attachment onto a physical level. There was no danger of that happening with this girl, but Mimsy Colberg was another matter.

"These are the showers?" Roxanne complained loudly, as soon as the group of girls had entered the cabin. "You expect us to take showers here?"

"What's wrong with it?" Pat challenged.

"Just look at the place! There's no privacy at all!" She motioned with her hand toward the gang showers on either side of the cabin. Six spray nozzles had been set in the walls opposite each other, enabling a dozen girls to shower at the same time. "At the camp I went to last year, they had tiled booths with curtains..."

"Are you ashamed to be seen in the nude, Roxanne?" Pat challenged, interrupting her in mid-stream.

"Ashamed?" For the third time in about ten minutes the girl seemed completely flustered and at a loss for words. "Why -- no! Of course not! Why should I be?"

"Then why all the fuss?"

"Well, it just seems so -- primitive, I guess."

"You'll get used to it," Pat muttered. "Now how about getting out of your clothes like the other girls are doing and getting yourself cleaned up for bed?"

"I'm not really dirty now, you know. I did bathe at home this morning."

"Good," Pat smirked, "then it shouldn't take you long to shower now."

With a heavy sigh, Roxanne began to unbutton the front of her blouse and strip out of her clothes along with the others. Pat leaned back against the wall, wishing more than anything for a cigarette but knowing how Mrs. Marchant felt about Big Sisters being seen smoking in front of their girls. "If you must indulge in such a filthy habit," she'd often told her counselors, "do it in your own cabins, where the girls can't see."

"That goes for a lot of filthy habits, Mrs. M.!" Pat thought, feeling once again the ripple of need running through her as she watched the pile of clothes accumulating on the floor and tried her best not to stare too openly at the lithe, smooth young bodies that had just shed them.

Her hunger was at a feverish pitch. Since her arrival at the camp that morning she'd been almost obsessed with the thought of making love to June that night. It had been months since they'd last seen one another; not since Christmas, in fact, when Pat went to Boston to spend a few days with June and her family during the college recess. The memory of how they'd made love to one another during that brief time was still so fresh in her mind she could almost taste the salty-sweetness of June's flesh on her tongue when she curled it slowly around inside her mouth.

Her hands tingled for the touch of June's sleek skin and the surprisingly thick bush of hair I between her legs. How she loved to have Pat stroke her fingers through that hairy pile and inch her way slowly into the deep, juicy hole it covered. She was a passionate lover and responded in every way to the demands Pat made of her body. When they were together again at last that night, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that they would make love like tigresses in heat. She was certain June's hunger would be at least as strong as her own.

"Let's put a little speed on there!" she called, glancing quickly around the room. "There'll be another group here to use the showers in a few minutes; let's not keep them waiting."

"Oh, no, let's not keep them waiting!" Roxanne mocked.

Pat's eyes shot quickly in the girl's direction. As they stared at her across the room, she felt an unexpected tingle race down her spine and a sharp tug pull at her stomach. The girl was beautiful; far more so than Pat would have guessed.

Her eyes darted up and down Roxanne's naked body under the shower. The girl was turned sideways from Pat and the profile of her breasts was startling. The two mounds were at least as large as Pat's own, and her breasts were known to make men stop on the street and turn their heads to look after her when she walked past. The nipples at the tips of Roxanne's breasts were the same dark brown color as Pat's own and -- although it was difficult for her to tell from that distance -- the dark circles that surrounded them seemed even larger than hers were.

"Maybe she is seventeen," she thought with a new-found interest that surprised and frightened her. "Of course she's still a snotty little bitch and not really my type, but..."

As though she'd sensed Pat's eyes were staring at her, the girl suddenly turned in the spray of water and stood full-front with her legs spread far apart. Between her thighs was a dark jungle of hair that at the moment was dripping water in a little puddle below her body. When all that hair was dried and fluffed up, Pat suspected it would be even more thickly tangled and soft to press against one's mouth than even June's was. Her throat bobbed violently as she imagined what it would be like to nuzzle her mouth up against that furry hole and slide her tongue into the warmth of Roxanne's cunt.

"I wonder what she tastes like...?" she found herself thinking, then quickly regretted the thought as she saw a sudden flash of what seemed to be recognition dart across Roxanne's face.

Was it possible, she wondered, that the girl knew the score and had already pegged her as a secret lesbian? If Roxanne was really as worldly and sophisticated as she wanted people to think, it was almost a certainty that she knew there were women in the world who had no use for men and craved only other women's bodies for their lovemaking. Pat herself had made this discovery at fourteen, with her gym teacher in high school, so she knew it wouldn't be a far-fetched conclusion to suppose Roxanne might have had a similar experience by the age of sixteen or seventeen. Perhaps several.

"What's running through that cynical little mind of hers, I wonder?" Pat asked herself, as she kept her eyes on the girl. "Does she know about me? Does she just suspect, maybe, and plans on watching me as closely as I'll be watching her this summer?"

She wondered, but it was impossible to tell by that strange smile on Roxanne's face just what she might be thinking. Unless the girl was a lesbian herself, however, Pat doubted that she'd have picked up on her own sexual preference. She knew well enough that to the average person's eye she was no different from any other good-looking college girl.

It always amused Pat to think of most people's image of what a lesbian looked like. The usual stereotype was a short, squat, extremely masculine-looking woman with close-cropped hair, wearing severely tailored clothes, and possibly with a black eye or two and several missing teeth that had been knocked out in a brawl with a truck driver. The truth of the matter, she knew, was that the description fit only a very few actual lesbians.

Most women who want other women as their bed partners, Pat knew from experience, were extremely feminine in appearance and could hardly ever be picked out of a crowd of women as lesbians. They were college girls like herself, or sultry models whose pictures on magazine covers made both men and women want to take them to bed. They were housewives, too, and teachers. They were nurses, secretaries, professional women in all walks of life. The only thing that Pat had ever noticed to set a lesbian apart from any other woman was a certain hungry searching in the eyes whenever a pretty girl walked past. Like a man would do in such a moment, their desire became openly obvious then as a means of recognition if the girl was interested. It was like an unspoken signal, she'd often thought; that intense, x-ray stare that went beyond the mere meeting of eyes and told their longing to another person.

Of course there were mannish lesbians, Pat knew, but she was as frightened of them as any straight woman might be. Such women were too much like men for Pat's taste. She'd often told herself that if she wanted a man she'd have no trouble getting one, but since it was female love she craved she wanted her partner to be as pretty and desirable in a feminine way as she was herself. She had no use for women who acted like men.

No one had ever accused Pat Fulton of being mannish. Even as a little girl she'd never been a tomboy. She'd always liked frilly clothes and putting on make-up and fixing her incredibly beautiful, long black hair the way girls on television and in the movies wore theirs. For the summer, since it often became unbearably hot in the mountains where the Summer Sisters Girls Camp was located, especially near the end of July and the whole of August, she usually had her hair cut in a shorter style than she wore at college, but it was still a long cry from the dykish look she detested. That year she'd decided on a pageboy cut, with bangs across the front of her forehead and a flip at the back of her neck where the hair turned under. It was an attractive cut and perfectly framed the fragile beauty of Pat's face.

She had always thought her nose was a little too long for the rest of her features, but aside from that she knew she was a very pretty girl. Her eyes were an especially good asset. Set under brows and thick lashes that were as shimmering black as her other hair, Pat's eyes blazed like chunks of midnight coal dropped into pools of white cream. She had learned to use her eyes in a dozen expressions, from intense lust to extreme anger, without shifting the position of any other part of her face. While her lips were still curved up in a bright smile, her eyes could be staring right through someone with the utmost contempt. And, on the other hand, with her face set in an expressionless mask that gave no clue to what she was thinking, her eyes might be making love to a pretty girl across the room.

Her cheeks and facial bone structure could not have been improved upon by a sculptor. With the pale, milk-white complexion she had for most of the year, her profile seemed to be made of the finest white marble. Her sensuous mouth, which always seemed to be glistening as though she'd just run her tongue across her lips, was a surprising contrast of pink to the darkness of her hair and eyes and the smooth whiteness of her complexion. It was a face that made many men give her a second glance when she passed on the street, and quite a few women, too.

At the age of twenty, Pat's body was in the full bloom of it's prime. Her breast size had not increased in the last two years, but her measurements were already of sufficient proportion to stuff a bra to overflowing. Usually she did without one, wearing only a sweater or blouse over her naked tits, and it always amused her to see a stranger's eyes widen in astonishment at how much of herself was revealed through even the most conservative clothes. Her nipples were larger than normal, for one thing, and when a smooth sweater rubbed against them long enough they usually hardened and made it obvious she wasn't wearing a bra.

Although she'd toyed with the idea of not wearing panties, either, she'd found it uncomfortable and, at certain times of the month, embarrassing. She didn't like the thought that anyone sitting across from her on a subway or a bus might be able to look up under her skirt and see the dark shadow of bush that covered her cunt. Although her figure was next to perfect in proportion and she had no cause for embarrassment about the appearance of her most private parts, she felt that her body was a gift to be given only to those she loved and who would love her in return. Handing out free peeks to anyone with the nerve to look was not her idea of sensuality.

What to make of the look in those eyes staring at her across the shower room, though, she wondered? Was Roxanne baiting her, perhaps? Was the brazen display of her body a come-on to Pat? A tantalizing invitation that would be snatched away the moment she made a move to accept it? That seemed to be what the girl was doing, as she turned and twisted under the spray of water, showing Pat her body from every possible angle.

"Nothing doing, honey," she thought to herself, forcing her eyes away from the girl. "If I'm going to do something stupid, which I hope I'm not, it won't be you I'll make the first grab for!"

As though responding instinctively to the thought, her eyes darted across the room to where Mimsy Colberg was showering. A sharp, sudden, almost painful surge of emotion shot through Pat's stomach as she stared at the lush beauty of the little blonde's naked body. She, too, was turned full-front toward Pat, but she seemed completely oblivious to the fact of what her nudity was doing to her Big Sister. She rubbed the bar of soap slowly up and down her legs, gathering a handful of soapy suds which she hurriedly lathered against her cunt. The hair surrounding her pink-lipped hole was so fine and golden blonde in color that when it was dry, Pat thought, it was probably almost invisible. Even now, sopping wet, Mimsy's pubic bush was so pale-colored that she seemed as adolescent in development as the younger girls showering near her, whose tits had just begun to bud and whose cunts had no more than a wisp or two of fuzz surrounding them.

It was that little-girl quality about Mimsy's manner and her body that made her irresistible to Pat. There was something so fragile and perfect about her, something so innocent and untouched, that if they'd been alone in the shower at that moment Pat knew she wouldn't have been able to control herself from crossing the room, dropping to her knees in front of the girl and wrapping her arms tightly around her waist to pull her forward, and burying her face in the wet warmth of that luscious hole.

She felt her mouth growing dry with tension as she ran her eyes up and down Mimsy's body. The girl's breasts were on the small side, but Pat found that more exciting than if they'd been as big as her own or even Roxanne's. She liked to have sex with girls who were almost direct opposites in physical types from herself. Girls like Mimsy. Young... short... blond... small-breasted... without much hair between their legs. She felt her nipples starting to harden inside her blouse, pushing out with excitement as she imagined what it would be like making love to Mimsy Colberg.

The clatter of something dropped on the other side of the room startled Pat and her head whirled quickly around. In just that split-second before Roxanne turned her own head, Pat saw a smile flash across the girl's face and something in her eyes that left no doubt she'd seen her eyeing Mimsy's body.

"Damn her!" she thought angrily, and a bit scared, too. She knew she'd been unwise to make her desire so obvious and vowed not to let it happen again.

"It's only because I'm so horny that I'm being careless," she told herself. "As soon as I'm in June's arms again and know I'll have the whole summer ahead of us to make love, I won't even give another thought to Mimsy Colberg. Or to Roxanne Thomas," she added grimly.

CHAPTER TWO

June Halstead stretched her long, shapely legs lazily in under the cover of the sheet as she reached for a cigarette, struck a match, then let a stream of smoke curl slowly from her nostrils and up toward the ceiling of the little cabin she shared with Pat Fulton. The ashtray on the table between the two beds was already piled high with smoked-down cigarette butts and June knew she really shouldn't have another, but smoking seemed to be the only way to quiet the restless tingling running through her body. She always smoked heavily when she was nervous and that night she felt she had more cause than usual to be high-strung.

Her eyes darted impatiently toward the window of the cabin and she listened intently for the sound of approaching footsteps, but only the quiet of the mountain night with its chirping of crickets and distant croaking of frogs near the lake greeted her ears. How long was it going to take, she wondered, for Pat to get her group in their bunks and settled down for the night? It seemed to her that she'd already been waiting hours for her friend, although in actuality it was only a short while earlier that she'd got her own group of girls tucked in and quiet. Pat would be along in another few minutes, no doubt, and that thought sent a cold shiver running down the length of June's spine.

It had been six months since the two girls had seen one another last, at June's home in Boston during the Christmas vacation. Recalling what had happened between them during those few days, June's legs drew closer together and she felt a strange tingle ripple through her insides. Would Pat still feel the same way toward her, she wondered? Would she still want to make love, as they'd often done in the past?

As though seeing herself through her friend's eyes, June lifted away the sheet from her naked body and propped herself up on her elbows to study the shapely curves and swells of bare flesh. Her hand ran slowly over her breasts, squeezing and lifting them one at a time as she tried to recall if they'd grown any larger since Pat had seen them last. Although her tits were not as large as her friend's, they were shapely and firm, with nub-like pink nipples at the tips of the pear-shaped mounds. The skin on them felt smooth as silk as she stroked her fingers across her tits and drew them further down her body.

Her stomach was smooth and flat, without so much as an ounce of excess flab marring her figure. Her hips were a bit wider than she'd have liked, but she supposed it was necessary to support the rather large cheeks of her behind. In a tight-fitting skirt or pair of slacks, the side-to-side sway of her ass had been known to stop traffic in the college town where she spent most of the year. She was used to being whistled at and admired by strangers on the street. It made her feel good inside to know that her looks and her body were objects of other people's desire, even though few had ever possessed her.

Pat Fulton was one of the first to make love to June, and as the girl's hands strayed lower and wriggled through the silky bush of curly blonde hair surrounding her cunt, she felt another hot flash race through the pit of her belly as she recalled how wonderful it had been when her friend made love to her. She'd never known that so much pleasure could be had from so simple a thing as another girl's tongue fluttering in and out of her hole.

Her fingertip pressed through the hair guarding her slit, and she felt a tingle shoot up her cunt as she nudged the end of her finger into herself. By closing her eyes, she could almost imagine that it was Pat's hand touching her and warming her up before making love. She had always thrilled to the feel of the other girl's hand stroking and fondling her cunt. It felt so strange having someone else touch her down there, when for so many years only her own hand had enjoyed that right.

"Will she want to make love to me again this summer?" June wondered. The previous year, her first at the Summer Sisters Camp, Pat had proven insatiable in her sexual demands. Barely a night went by that she didn't creep across the short distance between their two beds and offer June pleasure through the skilled use of her hands or lips and tongue. The letters she'd written during the winter and early spring had been guarded and discreet in their references to physical lovemaking; June had insisted upon it when Pat asked if she could write to her at college, since she knew the danger of having someone snoop through her things and discover something they shouldn't. She wished now, though, that she knew just how Pat felt toward her. It would make things a lot easier, she thought, if she knew one way or the other.

Her head snapped up quickly in surprise at the sound of the door opening. With her hand still between her legs, her fingertip stuck an inch or so between the flared lips of her cunt, she looked across the room at Pat's smiling face as she came into the cabin and bolted the door behind her.

"Well, hello!" Pat grinned, moving slowly toward the bed. Her eyes scanned the length of June's naked flesh up and down, time and time again. The hunger she felt for the girl was clearly displayed in her eyes. "Couldn't wait for me, hmmmmm?" she teased. "Had to start without me!"

"I -- oh!" With a sudden realization that her finger was still stuck inside her hole, June snatched her hand from between her legs and looked guiltily away from Pat's searching stare. "I -- uh -- had an itch."

"Yeah, I know," Pat murmured, "I've had the same itch myself all day. What do you say we do something about scratching it together?"

June giggled nervously and reached for another cigarette from the pack on the bedside table. As she lit it from the butt end of her last, she was aware of Pat's frowning down at her.

"You still smoke too much," the girl told her. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I know it."

"Have you got another one, for me?"

"Sure. Help yourself."

As Pat took a smoke from the pack, June's hand reached down for the sheet and began to pull it up over her naked body. Pat's fingers came down firmly on the back of her hand to stop her.

"What are you doing?" she murmured. "Let me look at you, at least. It's been so long, I've almost forgotten how beautiful you are, darling."

"It -- uh -- has been a long time, hasn't it?" June said with a strained laugh. "I guess we've both changed a lot since we last saw each other."

"I don't think so," Pat told her. "I'm just as I've always been, and you're as beautiful and sexy as you were the first day I saw you. Do you remember that first time we met?"

"Yes." June lowered her eyes and looked away from her friend. "How could I ever forget it?"

"I'm so glad you said that, darling," Pat murmured. "You know, this is going to sound really stupid, but I was almost afraid you wouldn't..."

"How's your group this year?" June suddenly interjected.

Pat looked at her in surprise, her mouth still open as though to finish what she'd started to say. "What?"

"How are your girls?"

"They're all right, I guess," she said, as a quick image of Mimsy Colberg flashed through her mind. "Nothing special; same as any other year."

"No trouble makers?"

"I've got one, I think. A snotty little bitch named Roxanne," Pat muttered. "She thinks she knows it all already."

"Oh, one of those," June smiled. "I think I've got one like that in my group, too. There's always one, isn't there?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Pat stared at her friend in silence for a long moment as they smoked. "Why didn't you let me finish what I was saying?" she asked at last. "You cut me off so sharply you'd almost think you didn't want me to finish."

"Oh, did I?" June laughed nervously. "I'm sorry; I didn't realize."

"I was going to say," Pat murmured, "that I was almost afraid you wouldn't feel the same way about me this summer as you did last year."

"Oh." June's eyes darted restlessly around the room, lighting everywhere but on Pat's face. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well," Pat smiled as she sat down on the edge of the bed and reached her hand to touch June's bare belly, "for one thing, do you realize you haven't even kissed me hello yet?"

June gulped hard and giggled nervously once again. "Haven't I?" She leaned her head forward and put a quick, passionless kiss against Pat's lips. As her friend opened her mouth and her tongue began to wriggle out of it to prod into June's mouth, she pulled her head back and asked, "Better?"

Pat blinked in confusion. "It sure isn't, honey. Not from someone I made love to all last summer and haven't seen in six months. That's the kind of kiss I'd give to my grandmother. Come on, baby," she urged, reaching out to put her hand behind June's head and draw her nearer once again. "Let's have a real kiss this time, hmmmm?"

Reluctantly, it seemed, June let her mouth be drawn back to Pat's. She kept her lips tightly closed as the other girl pressed her mouth against them. When she felt the end of Pat's tongue prodding to get inside her mouth, she started to pull away. Pat's hand tightened its grip on her neck, keeping her there.

Slowly, as that long pink tongue kept pushing at her closed lips, June's mouth opened no more than a crack. It was all Pat needed to wedge her tongue inside. As it rushed into June's mouth, she felt an electric tingle shoot down into the pit of her belly and the nipples on her bared breasts began to harden and push out against Pat's stroking fingers. She made a little whimpering noise in her throat and pushed the girl slowly away. The moment their lips parted, June's hand brought the smoking cigarette to her mouth and pulled strongly on it, filling her lungs with smoke.

"Hello," she said, forcing a smile.

"What's the matter, honey?" Pat asked softly.

"What? I don't know..."

"You know what I mean. Something's changed; something's different. I can almost feel it when I touch you. What's wrong, honey? Tell me, please. Is it something I did?"

"No, of course not," June insisted, but the look in her eyes made a lie of the words.

"Is there someone else?" Pat asked, dreading the sound of each word as it came from her tightening throat. "Did you meet someone since Christmas...?"

June lowered her eyes guiltily and puffed on her cigarette. For a long while she didn't speak. She seemed to be gathering her courage to put her thoughts into words, but when she finally did begin to speak it seemed as though she was reciting a speech she'd thought out long ago and rehearsed many times in her mind.

"You and I never had any kind of understanding that we wouldn't see anyone else, Pat," she said softly. "I mean, last summer was the most wonderful time I've ever spent in my life and I'll never forget you for all you did, but..."

"Who is she?" Pat interrupted, her eyes flashing with a burning jealousy. "Some chick from your college?"

"No. I..."

"Some girl from Boston?" Pat demanded. "Maybe that little redhead I met when I was up for Christmas? I always thought she had eyes for you..."

"It's not a girl."

For a second, Pat felt as though her heart had stopped beating. A hot flame rushed through her lungs and made her gasp for air as the force of June's words struck her full in the stomach.

"It's not a girl?" she whispered.

"I've met the most wonderful boy in the world," June said, her eyes looking away from Pat's downcast face. "He transferred to my college for the last semester -- right after we came back from the Christmas vacation -- and we got to be friendly since we had a lot of the same classes together."

"How friendly?" Pat hissed.

"We dated a few times and he took me to a big dance..."

"How friendly, dammit?" she raged, as the anger and jealousy inside her suddenly burst free. "Did he fuck you? Huh, baby? Did he shove a big hairy cock inside you yet?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, Pat!"

"It isn't, huh?" Her face was twisted into an ugly mask of outrage as she reached for June's arm and tightened her fingers on it with the force of a steel clamp. "I guess I just spent the whole winter writing letters to you every other day because I wanted a pen pal, huh? I guess I had nothing better to do with my money than call you long distance every weekend, hmmmm? I guess I've been eating my heart out all these months thinking about how wonderful it would be this summer when we were together again because I like to torture myself. No, baby, you're right. It's none of my business."

"I'm -- sorry," June whispered.

"Jesus!" Pat spat through clenched teeth. She let go of June's arm and stubbed out her cigarette angrily in the ashtray. "A boy, no less! I think I could have handled it if you'd told me you'd fallen hard for another chick. I even think I could have dealt with it if you'd told me there wasn't anyone else but you didn't want to start up with me again. But a boy...? How the hell do I compete with that? I don't have a cock, baby. If that's what you're crazy about this summer..."

"Pat, please," June begged. "Try to understand."

"I am trying! Maybe you'd better give me a little help, though, because I'm not doing so good on my own. When did all this start?"

"About three months ago."

"Is that when he fucked you for the first time?"

"Yes, but..." June stopped short, realizing too late that she'd admitted more than she intended.

"Oh, my God!" Pat moaned, getting up from the bed and covering her face with both hands. "Then it's true. You did! You did let him fuck you!"

"Of course I did!" June exclaimed. "I'm in love with him, Pat. Can't you understand that? When two people are in love with each other, it's only natural that they have a sexual relationship."

"Yeah? Tell me about it," Pat snorted with contempt. "How did it feel when he shoved it in you? Good? Oh, I guess it must have, if you're in love."

"You don't have to be so nasty about it."

"How do you expect me to feel? Honey, in case you've forgotten, may I remind you that you and I had a sexual relationship going for ourselves last summer? What about that?"

"That was different."

"Yeah, sure it was. Because I don't have a cock to shove in you; that's why it's different. I've only got fingers and a tongue, but that's not good enough for you now that you've had the real thing. What we did together was just practice for you, huh? Just fooling around, so you'd know what to do when you got into bed with the first prick who asked you."

"It's not like that with Gary at all!" June insisted. "He loves me!"

"He loves you because you put out for him!" Pat snapped. "You don't have to tell me about boys, honey. I know as much about them as I need to know -- and that's too much."

"I'm sorry if I've hurt you..."

"Hurt me?" Pat shrieked. "Hell, no! Don't flatter yourself, honey. Yours isn't the only pussy in the world, you know. I can find somebody else as easily as you can, only I won't be so stupid as to look for a cock. When I go to bed with somebody I want there to be more to it than just a fast fuck and a mess to clean up afterwards."

"Then I guess we've got nothing more to say to each other," June said softly.

"I guess not." Pat began to strip off her clothes, dropping them to the floor and letting them stay wherever they fell. As she opened her blouse and let it slip off her shoulders, she noticed the quick flash of interest that ran through June's eyes. The girl had always been fascinated by the size of Pat's tits, and it seemed that even her adventures with the college boy hadn't dampened all her curiosity. "Go on and look, honey," Pat thought bitterly. "But you're mistaken if you think you can have your cock and eat me, too."

"Pat?"

"Huh?"

"Can we..."

"What?"

"Can we still be friends, I hope?"

"Sure," Pat said breezily, as she pulled down the zipper of her skirt and let it drop with a soft rustle around her legs. When she stepped out of it and looked at her friend's face, she noted once again the familiar look of desire in June's eyes as she stared at the seat of Pat's sheer panties. Her stare was so intense during that split-second before she realized Pat was watching her watch her that it seemed almost as though she were looking right through those panties to the dark-haired cunt underneath and remembering how good it had been to push her mouth against it and explore the juicy depths of the dark hole with her tongue.

"I hope we can always be friends, Pat."

"Why not? You can marry your boyfriend, get knocked up right away and have a houseful of babies, and in sixteen or seventeen years I'll come around and seduce all your little girls. Sure, we'll stay friends. I'm counting on you to supply me with young pussy for my old age."

"That's not funny," June retorted.

"I didn't mean it to be."

"Then you're going to stay angry with me all summer?"

Before answering, Pat slipped her hands into the waist of her sheer white panties and pushed them slowly down her hips. As more and more of the dark pubic bush surrounding her cunt came into view, she noticed that June's eyes were still darting back and forth from her body to the ceiling. It looked like she was trying her best to keep from staring at Pat's nakedness, but found the impulse irresistible.

"I'm not mad at you now," Pat insisted, as her panties dropped to her ankles and she stepped out of them. Completely naked now, with her legs slightly parted so June could see the pink meat of her cunt through the furry bush, she put her hands on her hips and declared, "Like I told you, if it didn't mean that much to you it didn't mean that much to me, either. I can always find somebody new. Maybe I'll try Shirley Adams this year. I see she's back for another summer. Last year I thought she was trying to put the make on me all the while I was fooling around with you. If she's still interested..."

"Oh, you wouldn't!" June exclaimed, her face openly showing her dismay. "Not with Shirley Adams!"

"Why not?" Pat shrugged. "She's a good-looking chick, isn't she? And she's built, too. She's got bigger tits than you do, anyway."

June lowered her head and whispered, "You always told me you liked my tits because they weren't too big."

"Yeah, well, you know how it is, honey," Pat smirked. "You say a lot of things you don't mean during a summer vacation. Why, I even recall somebody telling me that she loved me and didn't ever want to live without me."

June's cheeks burned bright red with shame as the words she'd spoken to her friend the previous summer came back to mock her. "I thought you meant what you told me."

"So did I," Pat snapped. "I guess maybe we'll both know better in the future, huh?" Running her hands lazily up and down the front of her body, she made an exaggerated yawn as she turned toward her own bed. "It's late," she said, "and those brats are going to be up at the crack of dawn; I just know it. How about if we put out the light and get some sleep?"

"Okay," June shrugged. "If that's what you want..."

"What else did you have in mind?"

"I-I just thought maybe you'd like to talk for a while. I mean, since we haven't seen each other for so long..."

"Honey," Pat laughed cruelly, "we'll be seeing each other all summer. We'll have all the time we want to talk our heads off. But right now, I'm just not in the mood."

She pulled down the covers on her bed and got in under them. As June flicked out the light on the bedside table, Pat curled herself up into a tight ball on her mattress and pressed her clenched fist against her mouth to keep from sobbing aloud as the well of frustration and hurt that had been building inside her for the last ten minutes threatened to break free.

If she had tried to conjure up a worse nightmare of what the summer was going to be like without June to love and be loved by, Pat knew she'd have failed at the effort. It was the last thing she'd expected. She had hoped that after a second summer of lovemaking, June would come to the same realization that she'd reached herself some time ago -- namely, that they were meant for each other and should start giving some serious consideration to making plans to live together when they both graduated from college next year. She had hoped they would look for an apartment together in New York -- or maybe travel out to San Francisco and see what the West Coast had to offer two young girls who were anxious to tackle life together. She'd imagined them buying furniture and dishes together; doing things to their apartment like making curtains and bedcovers; planning meals; having parties for friends they would meet as a couple.

Now all those dreams were shattered, and Pat felt physically broken inside. It was like suddenly coming up against a brick wall in a maze and finding all the other exits blocked and nowhere to go. The worst part of it all for her was the realization that while she'd been faithful to June ever since their meeting in Boston over Christmas, her friend had been spreading her legs for a guy's cock and fucking like a rabbit for the last several months, with no thought at all for Pat and their relationship.

She realized it was as much the hurt of being rejected as it was the anger of jealousy that made her feel so terrible inside. She'd been used for June's fun until something better came along, then tossed away without a second's hesitation. If the shoe were on the other foot, she thought, how would June feel at that moment? If she'd been the one who was rejected, would she still ask if they could be friends? Wouldn't she see how impossible -- because how painful -- that would be?

Maybe, she thought, she should consider going to Mrs. Marchant and asking to be put into a different cabin. Spending the whole summer with June sleeping in the bed right next to hers and yet not being able to touch her was going to be unbearable torture. By the end of August, Pat thought, she'd most likely be out of her mind with sexual frustration.

Maybe she should even consider telling the camp's owner that something had happened at home and she had to leave the job. She considered the idea for a moment, then rejected it as quickly as the first. Neither solution was very practical. In the first place, there would be too many questions to be answered if she asked to change cabins, and it wouldn't pay to rouse Mrs. Marchant's suspicions. And yet, she thought wickedly, what fitting justice it would be to hint that the reason she wanted to change cabin partners was because she'd discovered June was a lesbian! It would serve her right, she thought bitterly, but even as the idea went through her mind she knew she couldn't do it. Her rage and hurt made her want to punish June, yes; but not in a way that would damage her forever.

It would be difficult to leave the counselor's job, too. There were scarcely any summer jobs available for girls in Pat's hometown, and none of them paid half as much as the Summer Sisters Camp. What with graduation expenses the following spring and the cost of setting herself up in an apartment when she left college to look for a job, she was going to need every penny she could lay her hands on. Leaving because of June would be like cutting off her nose to spite her face.

There seemed no way out. She was stuck at the camp for the summer with June, like it or not. But how to get through all those impending weeks of loneliness, she wondered? How to satisfy the need that had been building inside her all winter and which needed release before it drove her wild?

Maybe, she thought, Shirley Adams wasn't such a bad idea. She'd only mentioned the girl to June because she knew it would make her jealous, but on second thought -- with no other alternative open to her -- maybe it wasn't such a crazy notion. She'd never cared that much for Shirley; she was one of those girls whose mouth never stopped spewing out an endless stream of idiotic drivel. But she did have a terrific body, and Pat was certain the signals she'd thought the girl had given her the last summer meant she was interested. This just might be the time to find out, she told herself.

Neither of the girls had spoken for about ten minutes after June put out the light. Pat had been absorbed with her thoughts and assumed that her friend was falling asleep. As she shifted in her bed and turned her head on the pillow, however, she was suddenly aware of muffled sobs coming from June's side of the room. Her insides stiffened with alert response instantly and, despite the resolutions she'd just made to forget about June and find someone else, she was quick to find out what was wrong.

Slipping out of her own bed, she crossed the little space between the two bunks and put her hand lightly down on June's shoulder. "What's wrong, honey?" she whispered tenderly.

June turned her head instantly and looked up into Pat's worried face. There were tears streaming down both cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy. Apparently, she'd been crying ever since she put out the light.

"Oh, Pat," she sobbed helplessly, reaching her arms up to the other girl, "I didn't mean for it to turn out like this. Honest I didn't."

Pat tried to steel herself, to resist the impulses running through her, but in the next moment she dropped down onto the edge of June's bed and took her warmly in her arms. "It's all right, honey," she murmured. "Don't cry; it's all right."

"No, it's not," June wailed. "I've hurt you and I didn't want to. I wasn't even going to tell you about Gary; I thought I'd keep it a secret and it wouldn't make any difference."

"Then why did you tell me?" Pat asked, knowing full well that what she didn't know wouldn't have hurt her half as much as the truth.

"I didn't think it would be fair."

"To who? Me?"

"You, yes. And to Gary, too. I couldn't have made love to you all summer and then gone back to him as though nothing had happened. And I couldn't have pretended with you that I wasn't thinking of him. Don't you see? I didn't want to hurt either of you, but it looks like I've done that anyway."

"Do you know what I think?" Pat asked softly, as her hand stroked across June's bare shoulders.

"What?"

"I think you can't make up your mind which of us you want more -- him or me."

"I -- don't -- know..."

"I know you don't," she smiled tenderly. "When I came in here a little while ago and found you with your finger in your cunt, who were you thinking of? Him? Or me?"

June's eyes dropped guiltily away from Pat's searching stare. "You," she whispered.

A surge of relief and sudden hope swelled through Pat's heart. Maybe it wasn't too late, she thought. Maybe there was still a chance to win her back. At least for the summer, if not forever. When she'd faced the prospect of an endless summer of loneliness, anything that was thrown her way as a consolation was better than nothing. And who knew? Maybe if she really proved to June during the next months that she could give her more in the way of love and satisfaction than the guy she'd been screwing at college, she'd realize how much she'd be throwing away for nothing if she let Pat go. It was something to hope for, anyway.

"I knew it," she said softly. "And I'll bet you wanted me to French kiss you, too, didn't you? Even though you pretended you didn't. Am I right?"

For a long moment June gave no answer, then slowly her head nodded up and down. She lifted her eyes and looked intently into Pat's. "I'm... sorry," she whispered, her voice on the brink of tears. "Can you ever forgive me for what I've done to you?"

"Oh, darling!" Pat laughed. "You talk like such a little fool sometimes!"

Impulsively, her arms tightened around June's body and she brought the girl's mouth forward to meet her own. When she slid the tip of her tongue through her lips, she found June's mouth parted and waiting for the first thrust. She moaned softly in her throat as she slipped her tongue into the girl's hot mouth and felt the answering touch of June's tongue meet it in passionate combat. "Darling! Darling!" she whispered, breaking the kiss and lowering June slowly onto her back on the bed. She slipped her arms from around her body and climbed into the bunk with her, settling her bare flesh against June's. "I've wanted to hold you like this for so long. You don't know what it means to me when we're in each other's arms like this, touching all over..."

"Don't," June whimpered. "Please. Don't say any more, Pat."

"I love you," she whispered. "I'll always love you. You mean more to me than anyone else in the world."

"Oh, no..."

"Don't fight it, darling. Don't try to resist what you really feel inside. Let it go. Let yourself be free, like we were last summer. Don't be frightened. I'm not going to hurt you; you know that. I only want to love you."

As she began to lick down the side of June's face and onto her neck, she heard the girl whimpering and making soft protests in her throat, but she suspected she was still playing a kind of game with her where no meant yes.

"Please... don't..." June sobbed, as Pat reached down to spread her legs apart and then scrambled between them on her knees. She tensed as she felt Pat's tongue moving down from her neck to her chest, then over the slope of her breasts. Her nipples tingled as the girl's warm, licking tongue moved nearer and nearer to them. When she touched them, it felt like an electric shock had just run through her body.

Pat's lips closed around the hardening nipples one at a time and sucked them until they were as hard as rubber bullets inside her mouth. She'd almost forgotten the sweetness of June's nipples when she sucked them, but the first taste had brought back all the memories of the girl's lush body and what she'd done with it the previous year. Her mouth became rougher, her sucking more forceful, as her own passion mounted.

"Touch me, darling," she murmured, as she moved her mouth off June's tit and lifted up for a moment. "Please? Just put your hand on my tits and squeeze them. It's been so long since you've touched me like that."

Hesitantly, June's fingers reached for the offered breasts. She seemed to be fighting a kind of war inside herself, as though two directions were pulling her at the same time. She wanted to resist what was happening once again with Pat, knowing full well where it would inevitably lead, and yet her body craved the satisfaction she knew the girl could give her. A sigh of pleasure and excitement broke from her throat as she touched Pat's breasts and found the nipples at their tips as hard as her own.

"Oh, yes, darling!" Pat moaned. "Squeeze them for me! Your hand feels so wonderful! Touch me all over, honey. Touch me down there, too."

June's eyes blinked as she shifted them to the dark patch between Pat's legs. She'd played her fingers through that hair many, many times and run her tongue into the bush and further just as often. She knew the scent of Pat's cunt as well as its taste, but her hand was reluctant to do as the girl asked.

"Please?" she whimpered. Reaching out, she took one of June's hands in her own and brought it down between her legs. Her thighs closed in on it, trapping the fingers against the wiry bush of dark black hair. "Oh, yes! Yes, darling!" she sighed. Her hand dropped from June's wrist and reached behind her, wriggling over the girl's bare belly and into the fuzzy blonde hair around her hole. She was startled and delighted, too, to discover how moist June was down there. Whether her voice and mind protested or not, her cunt was eager for some hot loving.

"I want you, darling," Pat murmured, nudging the tip of her finger between the wide lips of June's cunt. She felt the muscles inside her tense and then relax as she prodded her finger deeper. "Let me make love to you," she begged. "If you don't want to again after tonight, I won't bother you; I promise. But just don't leave me like this. Not after I've waited for you so long and dreamed about this moment when we'd be together again."

"I-I just don't know, Pat," the girl whispered. "I want you to -- but I don't, too. I just don't know what I want."

"I think I do," Pat smiled. "Let me see if I'm right."

Moving away from June's hand, she got back onto her knees in a crouching position between the girl's spread legs and bent her head down to the furry softness. She ran her tongue quickly around the outside of her mouth to wet her lips good, then pressed them into the soft mound of fuzz. She could feel the muscles working in June's cunt, tensing and relaxing just as they had when she'd tickled her finger into the hole.

"Darling! Oh, darling!" she sighed. "You have such a beautiful little cunt! I love this fuzzy blonde hair around it and the pretty pink lips of you. I could lick you with my tongue forever and never get tired of the taste of you."

June made another whimpering noise in her throat, but it was neither a protest nor a sigh of consent. It seemed no more than a natural groan in response to physical gratification, "Do you want me to do it to you?" Pat asked. "Tell me, darling. Do you want me to use my tongue on you? Do you want me to make you come and then I'll drink your juice?"

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm!"

"Tell me, darling," Pat insisted. She burrowed her face closer against the pulsing hole and licked her tongue up and down the parted slit. "Do you want me to keep doing it to you?"

"Uuuuhhhhhhnnnnnnnn!"

"Tell me!" Pat rasped. "I want to hear you say the words."

"Yessssssss!" The cry broke from June's throat like a sob of desperation. Her whole body seemed to buck forward suddenly, thrusting her twitching cunt at Pat's hungry mouth. Her thighs closed in on the girl's head, trapping it there, and she began to work her ass up and down from the mattress. "Lick me!" she whimpered. "Put your tongue in my hole and lick it for me, Pat! Do it to me! Oh, please! Do it to me the way you know I like best! I can't stand it any more! I need you! I need that hot, wet tongue of yours inside my cunt! Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Please! Lick it!"

It wasn't necessary for her to beg. Pat was more than eager to oblige in whatever June wanted; all she'd been waiting for was the sound of her lover's voice telling her what to do. She knew, now, that there was more than a fighting chance of winning her back from the boy she'd met at college. She'd prove to her, in every way she could, how good it would be for her if they stayed together always.

With her mouth pressed flush against the moist, hairy hole, she wriggled her tongue slowly from between her lips and began to lick at June's cunt. Her mouth tingled from the slightly bitter, but oh so wonderful taste of her lover's open-lipped cooze. It was a taste Pat had dreamed about during all the long, lonely winter months they'd been apart and now that she had it once again she was not going to let it go easily.

"Darling!" June moaned, reaching down to curl her fingers in Pat's thick black hair and push her head even closer between her spread legs. "Oh, darling! That feels wonderful! Push it in me now! Please? Push your tongue in me, darling, and lick me inside my hole. I want to feel your tongue working in and out of me like a..." She stopped, swallowed hard, then added, "Like a love machine."

Pat, knew what she'd really meant to say, though. "A cock!" she thought bitterly. "That's what you want, you bitch! Even with my tongue in you, you're thinking about cock! Well," she vowed silently, "I'll show you that there's not much a cock can do that my tongue can't match! Just hold on, honey. If you want to get tongue-fucked, I'm just the gal to do it!"

Taking a firm grip on both of June's thighs, Pat spread the girl's legs as wide apart as they would go, so that the outer lips of her cunt were stretched wide and all the pink, wet, juicy meat inside her was vividly exposed. Then, with a deep gulp of air into her lungs, she buried her face in the hot quim like a deep-sea diver going down for buried treasure. There was a treasure to be found inside June's cunt, Pat knew. Not only the delicious taste of her and the exciting feel of the slippery flesh being licked by her tongue, but the ultimate treasure of her lover's warm cream flowing into her mouth and down her throat when she'd brought her to orgasm. At that moment, Pat knew she would have sold her soul for a drink of the other girl's thick, salty syrup.

Stiffening her tongue as rigid as she could make it, she began to make little stabbing motions in and out of the spread-open cunt. She could feel June's thighs tensing against her hands and from the way the girl was starting to rock herself from side to side on the bed she knew the effect she wanted to produce was starting to work. June was starting to become as passionate as she'd remembered from the previous summer, as her body came alive with need and responded with full force to the licking of her own tongue in and out of the hole.

"Yes, darling, yes," she thought with delight. "This is how I want you! Wild! Needing me! No cock can make you feel like this, can it?"

With her nose almost smothered in the bush of blonde hair above June's cunt, Pat wriggled her tongue into the slippery hole as deep as it would go. She could feel her lover's clitoris, stiff and throbbing with excitement. When she curled her tongue around it, the little love bud vibrated back and forth like it was made of rubber. She could already taste an increasing saltiness inside June's twat and knew it wouldn't be much longer before she was savoring the full release of all that warm, female cum.

"That's right, honey," she thought, as her tongue dug deeper and deeper with each lick into the wild hole. "Just let it all go. Don't hold back on me. Just feel what my tongue is doing to you and let your juice break loose when you can't stand the pleasure any more. There's no hurry, though. I'll do this to you all night, if that's how long it takes to get your cream."

June's head rolled slowly from side to side on her pillow as the tension and passion building within her increased with each fresh plunge of Pat's tongue into her cunt. It felt so good! Pier eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted, with a thin trickle of drool beginning to run from her mouth and down her chin. Every now and then a low moan of delight would ripple up from her throat, followed by a sharp gasp of excitement as Pat's tongue surprised her with a fresh attack on some other part of her inner depths. She knew she shouldn't be enjoying this as much as she was; she'd even promised herself faithfully before coming to the camp for the summer that nothing was going to happen between Pat and herself, as it had the previous year. But how could anyone resist so much physical pleasure? How could anyone take the steady, loving, wet licking of that tongue in and out of her cunt and not want it to keep happening until the ultimate pleasure had been achieved?

She knew it wouldn't be much longer before she was coating Pat's tongue with her orgasm juice. She could feel the tension building up inside her cunt like a spring that was slowly but surely being wound tighter and tighter. There had to come a point where the spring would snap, but she wanted to hold it back for as long as possible. Good as it would be to cream all over the other girl's hungry mouth, she knew that when it was over the pleasure would be at an end. She wanted to hold onto it for every second she could, enjoying the build-up as much as the ultimate release.

Lifting her head slightly from the bed, she looked down the length of her body and watched Pat's head bobbing up and down between her spread thighs. She could barely see any of her friend's face; most of it was buried in the hair and flesh of her cunt. It was exciting, though, watching the head of black hair moving against her hole and feeling at the same time what she was doing to her with her tongue and lips. It was a little like watching a pornographic movie, she thought, except that the girl whose cunt was being eaten was herself. That made it doubly exciting.

"Darling!" she suddenly gasped. "I-I don't think I can -- hold back -- any -- ohhhhhhhhhhh!"

June's head dropped back onto the pillow and she suddenly thrust her belly and hips high off the bed, smothering Pat's face in the hot flesh. Squeezing her thighs tightly around her friend's head, she gasped heavily for breath through her open mouth. That hot, licking tongue was still wriggling inside her, even as the first burst of her juice shot loose and began to flow toward Pat's mouth.

"Take me, darling!" she sobbed. "Drink me! Ohhhhhhhhhhh! What Heaven this is! Take me! Uhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnn! I can't stop coming! It's like a darn just broke in me! Ohhhhhhhhhggggg-hhhhh! Oh, God! Darling! Lick it out of me! Uhhhhhhhhhh! Oh, yes!"

Pat thought she was going to choke if any more of the thick fluid pouring from June's cunt went down her throat before she could swallow, but she didn't want to stop driving her tongue in and out of the hole for even an instant. She knew from past experience that the more she licked June's hole while she was in the throes of orgasm, the more juice she could draw from the wildly flexing cunt. She wanted a deep drink of the stuff that night, and kept licking until she'd coaxed every last drop from the twitching slit.

Finally, when June lay limp and exhausted by the force of her release, Pat drew her mouth slowly off her cunt and wriggled up on the bed to lie beside her. Taking the girl in her arms, she murmured, "Was that all right?"

June laughed and looked at her friend with shining eyes. "It was wonderful! I'd almost forgotten how good it feels when you do that to me, Pat."

"I knew you'd remember," Pat grinned, "once I got started. Now aren't you sorry you didn't want me to do it to you at first?"

June lowered her eyes and nodded her head slowly. "I -- guess so," she whispered. It was obvious from the tone of her voice that once she'd achieved orgasm and the feverish pitch of excitement had begun to subside, she was once again having second thoughts about what she'd let Pat do to her.

"Do you want to...?" Pat suggested softly, pressing the warmth of her own cunt against June's thigh. "I mean -- if you'd like to...?"

"Not tonight, darling," June murmured, knowing full well what her friend expected her to do. "I'm so tired and it's late and..."

"I know," Pat smiled tenderly. "It's all right, honey. It doesn't matter if you don't want to do it to me right now. I told you, I just wanted to make love to you. If you change your mind about returning the favor... well... we've got all summer to spend together, don't we?"

A little shudder ran through June's body at the sound of her friend's words, but she tried not to let it show on her face as she kissed Pat goodnight.

"Everything's going to be just wonderful for us this summer," Pat assured her, as she got up from June's bed and crossed the room to her own. "You'll see, darling. Everything's going to be wonderful."

CHAPTER THREE

"Did you ask her?" the little girl whispered in a frightened voice, as Roxanne Thomas closed the door of the campers' cabin and entered the large dormitory where the dozen or so girls under Pat's care were to sleep for the summer.

"Yes," Roxanne muttered, "I asked her."

"And what did she say?"

"She said there are no mountain lions in these woods, either, so shut up and go to sleep."

Satisfied that the last of her fears were groundless, the little girl rolled over in her bunk and closed her eyes. For Roxanne, however, sleep was going to be impossible. She was tired from the long trip on the train that day and all the activity of getting settled into the Summer Sisters Girls Camp, but at the moment her senses were tuned to a keen edge. After what she'd just seen going on in the cabin shared by Pat and June, sleep was out of the question.

"I thought I was right about her," Roxanne thought, as she climbed back into her bunk. "I was pretty sure from the way she was staring at me and that other girl in the shower room that she was a dyke, but I could have been mistaken. No more, though! Not after what I just saw her doing!"

A short while earlier, the little girl who'd clung so desperately to Pat and asked if she wouldn't sleep in their cabin for the first night had come to Roxanne's bunk and pleaded with her to get up, go over to their counselor's cabin and ask her if there was any danger of mountain lions attacking them while they slept. Roxanne knew it was a ridiculous question and if she'd been in the mood for sleep she'd have told the little girl to leave her alone, but the chance of escaping from their cabin on a legitimate excuse for a few minutes was a welcome one for her. She'd been dying for a cigarette ever since the train had pulled into town, but since it was forbidden for any of the girl campers to smoke she'd had to suffer her nicotine need in silence.

Telling the little girl that she'd go to ask Pat about the mountain lions, Roxanne had slipped out of the cabin and gone for a little walk down to the lake. In the stillness and solitude of the mountain night, she'd smoked three cigarettes in a row, realizing that they might well be her last for many months. She'd had no intention of disturbing the counselor for such a silly matter, knowing that the frightened child would believe whatever she told her when she returned, but a faint sound she'd heard in the still air had roused her curiosity and brought her to Pat and June's cabin.

The sound Roxanne thought she'd heard was a low groan of sexual pleasure. Even at the age of sixteen, the girl was experienced enough in life to know that the cry she'd heard had not been one of pain or fear. There was a certain tremor to the voice when it broke out in sexual excitement, and Roxanne had recognized it instantly.

Creeping up to the counselor's cabin, she peered carefully through the windows until she found one with the curtains parted just slightly enough for her to see what was going on inside the room. The light was dim and at first she couldn't tell what was happening, but as the sounds of more groans and the soft whisper of voices filtered through the cabin walls to her, she realized that the two girls inside were having sex with one another. The knowledge had sent a shiver of tension and excitement shooting into Roxanne's belly with such force that it was almost painful.

Her hand slipped down between her legs and started to finger her young cunt through her pajamas as she watched the two older girls making love on June's bed. It wasn't the first time Roxanne had watched two girls having sex. At the private school she attended, such things happened almost nightly. She had often watched an orgy of teenage female flesh tumble and tangle together atop a bed, and more times than not she had been in the middle of the pile herself. Still, watching the two counselors through the window, she felt herself tingling with a sexual need that grew stronger with each second she crouched outside the cabin.

As she listened to the wet, slurping, smacking noises Pat was making with her mouth as she burrowed her face further and further into June's spread thighs, Roxanne had to control the urge to rush to the cabin door, burst through it, and demand to be made part of the sexual fun. She was smart enough to know there would be little the two older girls could do to refuse her, having been caught in the act and faced with the threat of being exposed to Mrs. Marchant, but Roxanne was also shrewd enough to realize there were better ways of using the information she was now armed with to get what she wanted.

She had been attracted to Pat Fulton from the moment she'd called her name and said she was to be part of her group for the summer. Pat was very much the physical type of young woman that Roxanne had always found herself most drawn to, and she wanted her desperately. She had brazenly displayed herself for the older girl in the shower room, wanting to see if there were any possibility that her sexual feelings might be returned. She had suspected there was, from the guilty look on Pat's face when Roxanne had caught her staring at herself and Mimsy Colberg, but until she'd seen through the cabin window with her own eyes that her hopes were justified, Roxanne just couldn't be sure.

"Now," she thought hungrily, as she watched Pat's head bob up and down between June's legs, "what do I do to get her like that? God," she thought with a sigh, "how I wish she was doing it to me! She looks like she really knows how to use her tongue, all right! If only she'd stick it up my hole!"

Her fingers pressed harder against her moistened young cunt through the thin pajamas and felt the pulsing need rippling through her. It wouldn't be satisfaction enough, she knew, to finger herself off while she watched the two older girls making love. She wanted to be part of it. To feel what they were feeling; to taste what Pat was tasting; to give herself to the older girls arid take from each of them in equal measure. She wanted to make love with another girl, as she had almost every night while she was away at school.

The prospect of spending a summer of complete abstinence from lesbian love had been a frightening one to Roxanne, and it was the reason why she'd behaved so badly on her arrival at the camp. She'd half-hoped that either the counselors or one of the owners would decide she wasn't worth the trouble and send her back home, where at least there were two or three girls in the neighborhood who were willing to have fun with her in bed. But now that she knew Pat Fulton was a lesbian and had caught her in the act with June, there was no reason to leave the camp. In fact, she told herself, with the prospect of making love to Pat, there was every reason to stay.

"But how," she wondered as she lay in her bunk and listened to the night sounds outside the cabin, "am I going to get through this night? I know I'll get her sooner or later, but I need her now." Ever since she had crept away from the counselor's cabin, having watched Pat lick June off to a climax and then see that no further sex was going to happen between them, Roxanne's body had been at a feverish pitch of unsatisfied excitement.

Rolling onto her side to face the wall, so none of the other girls sleeping in bunks near hers would be able to see, she slipped her hand down into the trousers of her pajamas and touched her fingers against the furry softness of her cunt. Her legs twitched violently in response to the touch, as though she had put a live wire of electricity against herself. Slowly and carefully, she began to work her fingers up and down against the juicy outer slit. She felt her cunt lips trembling with each touch and starting to expand as though in open willingness for the invasion of another girl's warm tongue or fingers.

"Sorry," she thought in frustration, as she wriggled her fingertips between the outer flaps of flesh surrounding her cunt and up into the hole itself, "but this is the best I can do tonight, it seems."

Closing her eyes, she began to move her fingers in and out of her young quim. She was so tense with excitement that the soft fur surrounding her hole was almost dripping wet from the excretions of love juice. Her hand moved easily and effortlessly back and forth, nudging her fingers deeper and deeper into herself with each stroke. She could almost imagine that it was Pat doing it to her, and that made the feeling all the more intense.

"Pat," she thought. "Pat... Pat... Pat." In her mind she saw the counselor's stern face break into a welcoming smile as she reached out her hand for Roxanne's cunt and replaced her fingers with her own. She jumped suddenly, as though the actual physical transference of hand to hand had taken place.

"Let me do it for you, honey," she imagined Pat murmuring. "I'm older than you are and more experienced. I know how to do it to you so it really feels good."

"Yes!" Roxanne whispered under her breath. "Do it to me, Pat! Do whatever you want; I'm yours!"

She moaned softly as her hand began to pick up the rhythm, increasing the friction of the fingers rubbing in and out of her hole. Imagining that it was Pat doing it to her, she let her body surrender itself completely to the sensation. Her thighs closed around her own hand, trapping the fingers in her cunt, and began to rock slowly back and forth to make the sensation even more intense.

"It's good!" she whispered. "So good, Pat! I love how you finger-fuck my cunt! I want to do it to you, too, some day..."

"Roxanne?"

The actual sound of another voice close by her bed startled the girl so badly that her heart skipped a beat and she almost choked as she gulped down a hard lump in her throat. Pulling her hand quickly out of her pajamas, she whirled around in the bed and confronted Mimsy Colberg.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she hissed angrily. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that?"

Even in the dim light of the cabin, she could see Mimsy's face color with embarrassment at the obscene word she'd spat at her. "I-I'm sorry, Roxanne," the girl whispered. "I didn't mean to startle you like that. Were you asleep?"

"Shit, no!" Roxanne growled. "I was just laying here doing some needlepoint with my eyes closed!"

"I'm -- sorry," Mimsy apologized a second time. "I thought you might still be awake. I mean, I know you just came back from asking that girl's silly question and I thought..." Her voice trailed off into silence as she confronted Roxanne's harsh stare.

"What the hell do you want?"

Mimsy swallowed hard and lowered her eyes. "I guess I shouldn't have bothered you; I'm sorry."

As she turned to start away, Roxanne's hand reached out and caught her hard by the arm. "Now look, dammit," she snarled, "you just don't wake me up from a sound sleep and then walk away without telling me what you wanted!"

"It seems so foolish... now."

"What, for crissake?"

Mimsy's face started to turn red with embarrassment once again and she fussed with her hands for a long moment before answering. "I-I've got to go to the toilet," she whispered.

"And nobody's ever taught you how?" Roxanne cracked.

"No, I-I just wanted you to come with me, if you didn't mind."

The hardness of Roxanne's manner suddenly disappeared and she found herself staring into the pretty blonde girl's eyes with an unspoken question. "Why?" she asked aloud, wondering to herself, "Is it possible? Is she one, too?"

"Well," Mimsy explained nervously, "it's dark out there and I don't really know the way yet. I thought since you'd already been out..."

"That I'd take you by the hand and lead you to the john?" Roxanne smiled. It was an old gimmick, she thought, this business of asking another girl to go to the toilet with you. She'd used it herself a number of times at school, always with gratifying results. If it wasn't as original as she'd have expected from Mimsy, at least it put things in a little better light as far as getting through the night and, just possibly, the summer, too, was concerned.

After all, she thought, Mimsy was a cute kid. She didn't have much in the way of tits or a bush between her legs -- certainly nowhere near what Roxanne's own body development was like -- but there was something about her that was appealing. Maybe it was that little-girl innocence, which Roxanne now suspected was just a cover-up for a lust as great as her own. If Mimsy wasn't exactly her type, at least not in the way Pat Fulton was, smothering her mouth down into that furry little blonde cunt and having Mimsy do the same thing to her in reply was a far better prospect than the finger-job she'd been giving herself. At least it would be actual physical contact with another girl's body and not just a fantasy conjured by her mind.

"I'm sorry," Mimsy whispered, lowering her head in shame. "I guess I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll find the way by myself, the way I should have in the first place."

"It's okay," Roxanne said, squeezing her hand on the girl's arm. "I understand how you feel. I'm the same way."

"You -- are?"

"Sure!" she laughed lightly. "You don't have to worry with me."

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be scared of anything, Roxanne," Mimsy told her.

"I'm not," she grinned. Letting go of Mimsy's arm for a moment, she pushed back the covers and got out of her bunk. "Come on," she said, pushing her feet into the slippers at the edge of the bed, "let's go before we wake up the whole cabin."

Taking Mimsy by the hand, she led the way out of the cabin and down the slight incline toward the lake where the outdoor toilets were located. As they walked, Roxanne applied a gentle pressure to Mimsy's hand and was relieved to feel an answering tightness.

"I was right!" she thought joyfully. "She does want it as bad as I do! What d'you know about that? Here I thought the summer was going to be a total waste, and I've found three dykes in the last half-hour alone! Who knows how many others are around this place?"

"Ohhhhhh!" Mimsy gave a sudden little cry of surprise and pain as her foot stumbled on a rock in the path and she pitched forward. She would have fallen flat on her face if Roxanne hadn't been holding fast to her hand. As it was, even with the other girl's arm giving her support, she fell hard onto her knees on the ground and cried, out with hurt.

"What's the matter?" Roxanne asked with concern, dropping to her knees alongside her new-found friend. "Did you cut yourself?"

"I'm not sure. It's so hard to see anything in the dark like this."

"Let me feel," Roxanne suggested. She put her hand lightly on Mimsy's knee and pressed her palm against the warm flesh. A little tingle of desire rippled through her as she felt the contact of skin to skin. "I don't feel any blood," she murmured. "I don't think you cut yourself when you fell."

"I hope not," Mimsy said worriedly. "It would be so hard to explain what we were doing out of the cabin at this time of night."

Roxanne's eyes darted up to stare into Mimsy's, finding further confirmation of her suspicions in the girl's last words. "Maybe you shouldn't wear shortie nightgowns like that," she suggested. "If you had on pajamas, like me, your legs wouldn't get cut or scraped if you fell in the dark."

"I didn't bring any pajamas with me."

"You could borrow a pair of mine, if you'd like."

"Oh, I couldn't," Mimsy protested.

"Why not? We're about the same size, aren't we? And I've got plenty of them in my locker." Then, as an idea flashed through her mind, she suggested, "Why don't you try these on and see if they fit? If they do, I'll give you a clean pair when we get back to the cabin."

"Oh, no. Thanks, but I couldn't."

"Why not? Come on; nobody else is around to see. Take off your nightie and I'll take off my pajamas so you can try them on."

Mimsy started to get up from the ground, shaking her head nervously. "I'll try them later," she protested. "Tomorrow, maybe."

"What's the matter?" Roxanne leered. "Are you afraid of doing it out here in the open, even though it's dark?"

Mimsy gulped hard as her eyes flashed up to meet the other girl's. "I -- don't understand. Afraid of doing -- what?"

"You know what!" Roxanne laughed, tightening her hold on the blonde's leg. "What you brought me outside to do in the first place! What we were going to do when we got to the toilets. It's better here; I know what outdoor johns smell like and it's not so nice."

"I-I think maybe we'd better get back to the cabin..."

"What's the matter, honey? Losing your nerve?"

"Let go of me!" Mimsy shrieked, as she felt Roxanne's hand starting to slide higher up on her leg. Underneath the shortie nightgown she was completely naked. Her thighs clenched together instinctively to shield the soft down of hair and the flesh of her cunt from Roxanne's groping fingers.

"Don't be nervous," Roxanne growled. "I told you already; I feel the same way. I want the same thing you do."

"You're -- wrong!" Mimsy gulped. "I don't want you to do this. I didn't mean..."

"You just had to take a piss, huh?" Roxanne laughed mockingly.

"Yes!" Mimsy insisted.

"But you wanted me to go along with you so you'd be sure to find the hole, huh? Well," she spat, suddenly grabbing Mimsy's hand and thrusting it between the warm seat of her pajama legs, "here it is, honey. Here's the hole; now what're you going to do about it?"

"Don't!" the girl cried, fighting hard to break the hold of both Roxanne's hands on her body. "This is wrong! This is bad!"

"Oh, no it isn't! It's good! And you have no idea how good it's going to be!"

"I'm going to scream!" Mimsy warned. "I swear it, Roxanne! If you don't let go of me, I'm going to scream until someone comes to see what's wrong!"

"What is wrong?" Roxanne snarled. "Tell me? Huh? How come you changed your mind all of a sudden? Get cold feet about it, now that you've worked me up and got me hot? Or are you just one of those little bitches who likes to tease but doesn't deliver?"

"No, I'm not..." Mimsy stammered. "I mean -- I... I -- oh, I don't know what I mean any more. I didn't want this to happen, Roxanne. Honestly, I didn't know you were a..." She cut herself short in mid-breath and gulped hard, lowering her eyes from Roxanne's without finishing what she'd started.

"You didn't know I'm a what?" Roxanne growled. "A dyke? Is that what you were going to say? Or maybe you were going to use the fancy word and say you didn't know I was a lesbian. Is that it? Well, honey, I've got news for you. Either word tells the story. I'm both. And I'll tell you one more thing: you're not getting away from me tonight until you've let me push my tongue up your cunt! If you start to scream or make any kind of a fuss, I'll swear that you lured me out of the cabin, tried to put the make on me, and when I refused to play along with you, you started to scream as a way of getting back at me."

"You wouldn't do that!" Mimsy gasped.

"Wouldn't I?" Roxanne laughed wickedly. "Just throw back your head and scream, honey. Watch what happens. I'm sure there were at least three or four other girls in that cabin who were awake and saw you come over to my bunk and ask me to go outside with you. Do you think anyone would believe it was the way you'd tell the story? Do you think anyone is dumb enough to believe a sixteen-year-old girl is afraid to go to the toilet by herself? Or do you think they'll believe what I'd tell them?"

"Please let go of me," Mimsy whimpered, her eyes starting to glisten with the sheen of tears. "I won't scream and I won't tell anyone about this, if you'll just let go of me."

"Honey," Roxanne chuckled, "I know you won't scream and I know you won't tell anyone about tonight, but I'm not letting go of you until we've finished what we came out here to do. I'm going to eat that cute little pussy of yours if it's the last thing I do!"

As her hand began to work its way higher in under her nightgown, Mimsy struggled to brush away the intruding fingers. She felt icy tingles of fear running through the pit of her belly and only Roxanne's warning of what would happen if she screamed kept her from crying out for help.

"Lay down on the grass!" Roxanne hissed. "And stop fighting me, unless you're looking for a slap in the face!"

"Please..."

"I don't know what the hell you're making all this fuss about in the first place," Roxanne spat at her. "I'm not asking you to eat my cunt, am I? I'm not some guy with a twelve-inch prick who's trying to rape you, either. All I want to do is lick your cunt, for crissake! Do you have any idea how good I'm going to make you feel?"

"N-n-no," Mimsy stammered. "B-b-but I d-d-don't want you..."

"Shut up!" Roxanne suddenly threatened. "I've had about all the sniveling out of you I can stand for one night! If you don't lay down and spread those legs so I can stick my face into your cunt, you're going to be in big trouble."

Mimsy gulped hard and slowly lowered herself onto her back on the soft patch of grass. Her legs, however, remained locked firmly together. Her whole body was held rigid against Roxanne's moving, prying fingers.

"Open up!" the dark-haired girl snarled angrily. "I'm not going to hurt you! Open those legs, so I can get my head between them!"

"No... please... no..."

"Open up!" With a hard shove of both hands, Roxanne forced the girl to spread her legs. Quick as a flash, she burrowed her head between them and pressed her mouth against the light-colored fur of Mimsy's tender hole.

"Oooohhhhhhhh!"

"You see?" Roxanne chuckled, recognizing in the shriek more pleasure than pain. "I told you it was going to feel good. Just wait 'til I get my tongue up there and really start working on you!"

She wriggled her tongue through her lips and stroked it gently against the quivering pink lips of Mimsy's cunt. There was so little pubic hair around the hole that it seemed almost as though she was attacking a girl who hadn't yet reached puberty. It reminded Roxanne of some of the younger girls she'd seduced at the boarding school she attended. Girls ranging in age from twelve to fourteen, who had been as frightened as Mimsy at first, but who soon got to love the touch of Roxanne's tongue inside their cunts as much as she was now convinced the blonde girl would. By the end of the summer, she told herself, Mimsy would be begging for her to do what she was fighting against with such determination now.

"How did that feel?" she chuckled, lifting her mouth away from warm cunt for a second. No answer came from Mimsy. "Do you want me to do it again?"

"No," came the whimpered reply, but both girls knew by the tone of Mimsy's voice as she made the protest that she didn't really mean it.

"No?" Roxanne laughed. "Are you sure you didn't like how this felt?" She put her tongue back down on the trembling slit of cunt and pushed the tip of it through the outer lips and inside the hole. She felt Mimsy stiffen her thighs in response and heard a soft groan of pleasure break unwillingly from her throat. "No," she thought to herself, "you don't like what I'm doing to you at all! Not much!"

Holding tightly to both the girl's legs to keep her from pulling away, Roxanne burrowed her face deeper into the juicy mound of fur and flesh. Her tongue drilled higher into the crack and began to lick at the moist, slippery walls inside. She could feel Mimsy working the muscles of her cunt, squeezing them closed as if to keep the invading tongue from prodding any higher into her, then suddenly relaxing them and opening herself wide for the sweep of intense, licking pleasure coming from that same tongue.

"Oh, please..." she moaned, but Roxanne could tell by the urgency in the cry that the girl was no longer resisting. Her please no longer meant "don't"; now it meant, "Please do! Please eat me! Please keep that big, wet tongue of yours inside my cunt! Please keep licking me with it like you're doing! Please keep me feeling so good! Please -- oh, please -- don't stop!"

Roxanne had no intention of stopping, though. Her own need was at too high a pitch. She was used to having sex with another girl almost nightly, but more than that, her body was tuned to a fever pitch by what she'd seen happening in the older girls' cabin. Her hunger was insatiable as she drilled her tongue deeper and deeper into Mimsy's twitching hole. Knowing that she would never be able to convince the girl to do the same thing to her in return, and wanting to achieve satisfaction for herself before going to sleep, she used one hand to push her pajama trousers down to her knees, then wriggled her fingers between her legs and started to play with herself while she ate the blonde's hot snatch.

It tasted so good, licking and rolling her tongue around inside that pretty young cunt with its soft blonde hair. The flavor was like salty candy; sweet and yet sharp at the same time. Her nostrils were flared wide as she lapped with her tongue again and again and again, drawing into her lungs the intoxicating aroma of Mimsy's cunt at the same time her tongue drew the actual taste of it into her mouth.

Suddenly, after Roxanne had been tonguing her for about five minutes and her own cunt had been brought to the very brink of orgasm by the skilled use of her fingers inside it, Mimsy's body stiffened and began to rock up and down from the ground. The tension in her thighs and the heavy panting noises she was making with her throat left no doubt that she was getting ready to come.

"That's right, baby!" Roxanne thought, frantically working her fingers in and out of her own hole with the same speed she was plunging her tongue into Mimsy's. "Come, honey! Come for me! Let me go to sleep with the taste of your juice in my mouth! Come, baby! Come all over that tongue of mine! Pour it all over my mouth and make me swallow you! Come, dammit! Come...!"

At the very moment that the tension inside her own hole became too strong to hold back any longer, and the first hot burst of juice began to trickle down around her fingers, she gulped hard as she felt a flow of sticky cream begin to run from Mimsy's cunt and over her lips into her mouth.

"Yes, baby! Yes!" her mind screamed. "You taste so good! That juice of yours is like wine to me! Keep pouring it, baby! Make me drunk on the taste of your cream! Oh, God! Yes! Yes! Yesssssss!"

Weak with exhaustion, but entirely satisfied from her own orgasm and the one her tongue had coaxed out of Mimsy, Roxanne lifted her head from the other girl's cunt a few minutes later and looked up at her face. She'd expected to find a smile of satisfaction there, or at least an acknowledgement that it hadn't been as bad as Mimsy had thought. Instead, she found tears running in steams down both the blonde's cheeks.

"Honey," she said tenderly, reaching her hand up to console the girl. "Hey! Hey, honey, what's the matter? It wasn't as bad as all that, was it?"

Mimsy's eyes flashed with anger and contempt as she looked down at her. "Are you finished with me now? Can I go now?"

"Sure, but..."

Her hand was brushed roughly away as Mimsy scrambled to her feet. Backing off from Roxanne, she set her jaw in a tight grimace, then hissed, "If you ever touch me again..." The rest of her warning was engulfed in another flood of tears and sobs. Turning away, she started to run back to the cabin as fast as her legs would carry her.

"Hey! Hey, wait!" Roxanne cried, but the girl was already far from her. "Fuck you!" she spat angrily, getting up from the ground and brushing off her knees. "I don't need you any more anyway. Not as long as Pat is my Big Sister," she chuckled.

CHAPTER FOUR

"What a strange, sad girl," June Halstead thought to herself, as she studied the faces of the girls sitting around her and noted with particular interest the downcast expression on Mimsy Colberg's. It was part of June's duties as a summer counselor at the camp to teach the girls basket weaving, taking various groups for one hour sessions two days a week. That morning, the first official day of the Summer Sisters program, she was instructing Pat's group in the basics of the skill and had noticed how withdrawn Mimsy seemed. While she'd been a camp counselor long enough to realize that in the first week or so of camp there were bound to be feelings of homesickness and loneliness among the girls, Mimsy seemed disturbed by something else and June wished she could put her finger on what it was so she could try to help.

"I wonder," she thought, "if it has anything to do with that dark-haired girl. What's her name now? Rosanne? No, Roxanne, that's it." Her eyes darted to the girl's face, but she seemed absorbed in the pile of rattan she was sorting in preparation of her first basket work. "I wonder..."

Being a psychology major at college, June was quick to notice and observe inter-actions among people, even if those actions were so subtle as to escape the untrained eye. It seemed to her that ever since the girls had assembled for the class an hour earlier, Mimsy had been at pains to avoid Roxanne. Her eyes never so much as glanced in the dark-haired girl's direction and although she spoke freely with the rest of the girls when they spoke to her, on at least two occasions June had noticed Mimsy ignoring a remark Roxanne had directed to her. She assumed the two girls had had some sort of argument, possibly even a fight, the previous night. Such things were not uncommon at the start of the summer, and she knew that unless something was done to correct bad feelings between the girls at their inception, there would only be further trouble during the months ahead.

Walking through the group, she made comments on what the girls were doing, but when she stopped alongside Mimsy she knelt down and murmured, "I'd like you to stay a few minutes after the other girls leave, if you would. I'd like to talk to you about something."

It seemed as though a flash of fear ran through the girl's eyes as she nodded her head up and down and whispered a quick, "Okay," and this left June feeling even more confused and upset. Why should she be frightened about talking to me, she wondered?

At the end of the hour, she dismissed the girls and began to clean up the basket weaving materials. From the corner of her eye, though, she watched Roxanne with particular interest and noted how she seemed to be waiting for Mimsy to join the others who were leaving. When she didn't, the dark-haired girl went up to her and, with a quick glance toward June, dropped to her knees and whispered something in Mimsy's ear. Her face went white and her eyes darted frantically in June's direction, almost as though crying out for help.

"All right," June thought with determination, "I've had just about enough of this. Time to find out what's going on."

Moving quickly toward the two girls, she leveled her eyes with Roxanne's and was startled by the expression she found staring back at her. It was almost one of mocking contempt. Her back bristled with indignation as she drew herself up and assumed her most efficient counselor's voice.

"Why aren't you going down to the lake with the other girls, Roxanne?" she demanded. "Shirley will be waiting for you to start the swimming class."

"I already know how to swim," Roxanne snapped in reply, her eyes still holding steady to June's.

"Then why don't you go down to the lake and tell Shirley that?" she firmly suggested. "I'm sure we can find another class for you to take."

"I'm waiting for Mimsy," the girl said flatly.

"Mimsy was asked to stay behind for a few minutes," June informed her, "by me. You were not. Now will you please obey me and go down to the lake?"

Once again June felt a strange little shiver run through her as she stared at that mocking look in the girl's eyes, but she held her ground, and in a few moments Roxanne got to her feet.

"All right," she said. "I'll go, but it's not because you tell me to. I'm bored here anyway."

"That one," June thought nervously, staring after Roxanne as she walked away, "is going to be trouble for someone this summer. I can feel it in my bones."

Turning back to Mimsy, she settled onto her haunches beside the girl and put her arm lightly around her shoulders. "You did fine work this morning, Mimsy," she praised. "I'm sure you're going to be as expert at this as I am by the end of the summer. Maybe even better. You seem to have a natural talent."

"Thank you," the girl said softly.

"Have you studied basket weaving before this summer?"

"No, Miss Halstead."

"Call me June, please," she smiled, "like I told all the girls to do."

"Okay... June."

"That's much better. I want us to be friends this summer, Mimsy, and friends don't call each other Miss. June sounds much more friendly, doesn't it?"

The girl nodded her head up and down. It seemed to June that she was ready to break into tears at any second. She could feel the tension in the girl's shoulders as she held her arm around them.

"Is this your first summer away from home, Mimsy?" she asked softly.

"No, Miss -- I mean -- June. It's not."

"Aren't you happy here at Summer Sisters?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Oh, I don't know," June smiled. "Sometimes a camp turns out to be different than a girl imagines it's going to be and when she gets here she's unhappy. I wondered if that was true in your case."

"Are you going to send me away if I say I'm unhappy?" she sobbed, and the tears were now brimming in her eyes like liquid diamonds.

"Of course not!" June tightened the pressure of her arm around the girl's shoulders. "Why, that's the last thing I'd want to see happen. I'd like you to stay with us all summer and be happy while you're here. But I can't help if I don't know what's..." She stopped suddenly as a great sob broke from the girl's throat and she flung herself against June's body, clinging as though to a lifeboat.

"Help me!" Mimsy sobbed. "Please? Help me, June?"

"How? What's wrong?" she pleaded. "Please tell me what's upset you, so I'll know how to help."

"I-I can't..."

"Why? What's frightened you like this?" It was obvious to her now that the girl was terrified of something and it didn't require much detective work to figure out who else was involved in whatever the trouble was. "It has something to do with Roxanne, doesn't it?" she asked.

Mimsy's head shot up like a bolt and the terror was dancing openly in her eyes. "How -- ? No! No, it has nothing to do with her!"

"What did she do to you, Mimsy?"

"Nothing!" the girl insisted, but with such fear in her voice that it belied the assertion.

"Why are you so afraid to tell me what's wrong?" June pressed. "I've seen the way Roxanne was looking at you all during class and how you didn't want to look back at her. Just now, before she left, she said something to you. What was it?"

"N-nothing"

"What was it, Mimsy?" June demanded, making her voice more counselor than helpful friend. Sometimes, she knew, it was necessary to use her authority with the girls in order to help them, even though she preferred keeping the relationships on a more equal basis. "I want to know. If you don't tell me what's going on between you and Roxanne, I'll have to take both of you to Mrs. Marchant and..."

"No!" Mimsy suddenly cried, clinging more tightly to June's body. "Please don't do that!"

"Then tell me what Roxanne said to you before I came over and why you're so frightened of her. Is she bullying you and the other girls in your cabin?"

"No..."

"What did she just say to you?"

Mimsy gulped hard before answering in a soft, tearful whisper. "She said that if I told you anything she'd hurt me. Bad. She said she'd hurt me bad."

"Told me what?" June persisted.

"About -- about last night."

"What happened last night?"

"Oh, please don't make me tell!"

"What happened, Mimsy?"

"She -- she took me outside -- I mean -- I asked her to take me outside because I had to go to the toilet and I was afraid because I didn't know the way and it was dark -- but not like she says!"

June's head was spinning in confusion. "I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me? What happened when you and Roxanne went outside last night?"

"She -- she -- oh, June, I can't tell you!"

As the young girl clung frantically to her body, sobbing out her heart, a sudden notion shot through June's mind hat almost sickened her. At first she wanted to reject the very idea as preposterous, even repellent, but the more she thought it over as Mimsy continued to sob against her, the more realistic and accurate it seemed.

"Mimsy," she said firmly, drawing the girl slightly away from her so she could look into her eyes as she asked the question, "did what happened with Roxanne last night have anything to do with -- sex?" She almost whispered the final word, knowing full well that if she was mistaken about her hunch she might be stirring up more trouble than was already brewing.

"Sex...?"

"Did she -- do anything to you? Anything she shouldn't have, I mean?"

Slowly, fearfully, glancing around her first as though to see if Roxanne were anywhere close by watching her, Mimsy nodded her head up and down.

June didn't know how to react to the admission. It was a relief to know what the problem was, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with. Especially not after what she and Pat had done themselves the previous night. She found herself being torn in two directions. On the one hand, she felt indignation and anger as a counselor, knowing that such affairs between the girls under her charge had to be stopped at all cost; but on the other hand, as a lesbian herself, she felt a strange thrill running through her to be holding Mimsy so closely in her arms and knowing that she, too, had known lovemaking with another girl.

"What did she do to you?" she asked, then bit her tongue in shame with herself for having asked. The question had not come from June the counselor, interested in the girl's welfare, but from June the lesbian, titillated by the idea of Mimsy and Roxanne together and wanting to know more details.

"Do I have to tell you?" Mimsy sobbed.

"No, of course not." June tightened the hold of her arms around the girl and rocked her slowly, comfortingly, back and forth. "Not if you don't want to, Mimsy."

"I'm -- so ashamed..."

"Then it's all right; you don't have to tell me any more. I'll take care of everything."

"You're not going to tell Mrs. Marchant, are you?" Mimsy asked, her eyes springing wide with fear.

June considered it for a moment. She knew it was her duty as a counselor to report any such incidents that became her knowledge, but as a girl who had known sex with other girls herself, she couldn't report what she knew to the camp's owner.

"No, I won't tell her. Not unless Roxanne bothers you again and you want me to tell Mrs. Marchant about her so it will stop."

"Couldn't I move into another cabin?" Mimsy suggested. "Away from her, I mean? Maybe if I moved in somewhere else..."

"Of course," June said without hesitation. "That's just what I was thinking of doing. I'll arrange everything with my friend Pat. We'll put one of my girls in your place and you can move into the cabin with my girls." It was still so early into the summer that nothing much would be thought of a transfer like that. If any questions were raised by Mrs. Marchant or the other owners, June knew all she'd have to say was there had been a personality clash.

"Oh, that would be so wonderful!" Mimsy enthused, clinging tightly to June once again. "I know I'll be so much happier with you, June. It'll be a wonderful summer being one of your girls, instead of..."

"Instead of what?"

The sudden sound of another voice made them both look up in surprise.

"Instead of one of my girls, you mean?" Pat growled angrily. Her eyes darted jealousy from Mimsy's face to June's, taking in the way they were holding onto one another.

"Oh, no! I didn't mean that!" Mimsy insisted.

"Then what?"

"Pat, I'll explain in a minute," June cut in. "Mimsy, why don't you go back to your cabin and pack up your things so you'll be ready to move when everything's been arranged?"

"Okay," she said, smiling as brightly as she could manage.

"And wash your face," June called after her. "Your eyes are all red and they're such pretty eyes."

"Okay!" Mimsy laughed, turning to wave goodbye as she hurried toward the girls' cabin.

As soon as she was out of earshot. Pat stepped forward with an angry glower on her face. "And just what was all that about, if I may be allowed to ask?"

"We've got a problem," June sighed.

"So I noticed," she cracked. "A problem with big, beautiful blue eyes and a hot little body!"

"What...?"

"You're picking them kind of young this year, aren't you, darling?" Pat hissed. "I can understand that you're tired of me because I'm pushing twenty-one, but isn't sixteen just a bit young?"

As the realization of what Pat was accusing her of took hold, June's face tightened in anger. "Do you think -- ? You do! Oh, what a filthy mind you have, Pat! Honestly!"

"Are you telling me what I saw with my own eyes isn't true?"

"What did you see?"

"I walked over here to find out what was keeping you after your class and I find you wrapped in the arms of a hot little piece of ass. Then I hear her saying how much happier she's going to be as one of your girls instead of mine! What as I supposed to think?"

"With a mind like yours," June snapped sarcastically, "I guess there's only one thing you could think. But you're wrong. What you're thinking never even entered my mind."

"I'll bet!" Pat snorted.

June had to lower her eyes to keep from showing how much the very idea she was denying had been in her mind. Holding Mimsy as she had, she'd felt very definite stirrings inside her that had nothing at all to do with her feelings toward the girl as counselor to camper. Those feelings shamed her, and hearing Pat accuse her of them aloud made it even worse.

"She's moving into my cabin in order to get away from one of your other girls, if you want to know the whole truth."

"Which one?" Pat asked. Then, quickly shaking her head, she said, "No, don't bother. I already know. Roxanne, I'll bet."

"None other."

"What did the little bitch do to her? Put a frog in her bed? Drop a snake down her back?"

"Worse."

"How worse?"

"A lot." June lowered her eyes in embarrassment as she told her friend what she knew. "Something happened last night, Pat. Between those two girls. I think -- I think Roxanne forced herself on Mimsy against her will."

"You're joking!"

"Would I joke about something like that?"

"What did she do?"

Looking up into Pat's eyes, June saw the same sparkle of interest to know all the dirty details that she had recognized in herself a short while earlier. It angered her that Pat was concerned with such base details, yet understanding the same feelings in herself she could make no denunciation.

"I-I don't know for sure. I didn't make her tell me minute by minute who did what to who. You can use your imagination. But whatever happened, it's made that poor girl almost frantic. Roxanne warned her that if she said anything about it to me she'd hurt her. Hurt her bad, I think was the way she put it."

"The little bitch!" Pat hissed. "I'm going right to Marchant and telling her to get that no-good-..."

"No!" June interjected. "I don't think it's the best idea to tell Marchant about it. Not unless it happens again, or she does it to some other girl."

"Why not? She'd be bounced out of here so fast..."

"Why not!" June laughed ironically. "Why don't you just stop and think about it for a moment? Don't you find it even a little bit amusing that you or I should be the ones to turn in anyone else because they've had sex with another girl?"

"I didn't think of that," Pat admitted.

"Well, I did and I realized how wrong it would be. If we feel the same way ourselves, Pat, we can't very well ruin another girl's life because of one mistake. You know that if Marchant sent her home with a story like that it would put a scar on her forever. It would always be on her records if she wanted to go to another camp or needed any kind of recommendation from this one."

"I have a feeling she's already got a record like that from where she was last year," Pat told her. "Every time I mentioned going back to the camp where she was before, I saw this funny little look come into her eyes. Like she was scared to death of something. I'll bet my whole summer pay that I know just what it is, too."

"Maybe you're right," June sighed, "but we've got to give her the benefit of the doubt. We've got to let her know that we know what happened and if she does it again we'll go to Marchant."

"When you say we, you really mean me, don't you?" Pat smiled. "I'm the one who's got to have the talk with her."

"She's one of your girls, isn't she?"

"All right," Pat agreed heavily. "Tonight when everybody's at the movie, I'll have a talk with her. But I wish to Christ that something good would happen before then -- like Roxanne drowning in the lake!"

"She's a very good swimmer, she says."

"That's just what I was afraid of."

CHAPTER FIVE

Pat Fulton paced restlessly back and forth across the floor of her cabin, alternately bringing a cigarette to her lips for a long, deep puff and then glancing down at the watch on her wrist. "The little bitch is late, of course," she muttered aloud. She had told Roxanne to report to the cabin at eight on the dot. It was now going on toward half past eight and there was still no sign of her. If she didn't show up in another fifteen minutes, Pat vowed, she was going straight to the camp's owner, Mrs. Marchant, with the story of what had happened the previous night between Roxanne and Mimsy. "To hell with being fair to her," she thought angrily. "A no-good bitch like that deserves to be treated the way she treats others."

In the back of Pat's mind, however, was the awareness that her anger against Roxanne had more behind it than a mere dislike of the girl's manner and personality. She'd handled difficult campers in the past, many of them far more troublesome than Roxanne, without resorting to Mrs. Marchant as a final solution. If Roxanne were just an ordinary girl with a bitchy streak running through her, Pat knew she could handle her well enough. But there was more to it than that. She had assaulted Mimsy Colberg, and in Pat's mind that was unforgivable. Not because it introduced a lesbian element into the camp life for the summer, for Pat was well enough aware of the logic in June's argument about the pot calling the kettle black, but because she had so desperately wanted the cute little blonde herself and the thought of Roxanne taking her in the way Pat would have liked to was unbearable.

It was strange, this effect Mimsy Colberg had upon her. When she'd walked into the clearing where June held her basket weaving classes and seen the two girls in each other's arms, her first instinct had been one of intense jealousy. Not because another girl was holding June in what looked like a lover's embrace, but because that other girl was Mimsy and June was holding her. It wouldn't have mattered in the least if she'd seen her friend embracing any other girl in the camp, but Mimsy was something special to Pat. She had hungered for her from the first hour the girl had been at camp, and now she was leaving her group for June's and it was all because of Roxanne. If it hadn't been for her, Pat thought bitterly, she might have had a chance of seducing Mimsy during the course of the summer. As the girl's Big Sister it would be only natural for them to be close. There were a lot of things they could have done alone together, without rousing anyone's suspicions or curiosity. Hikes in the woods... meetings at night for moonlight swims... shared confidences... any number of situations might have given Pat an excuse to be more intimate with the girl and take at least tentative steps toward seducing her.

Now it was all gone up in smoke. Mimsy had already moved out of Pat's group's cabin and into June's, being replaced by a pathetic little creature who would have trouble enticing a troll into seducing her. For the rest of the summer, the best Pat could do would be to watch the girl from afar and dream of what might have been if only Roxanne hadn't fouled everything up.

A sudden knock on the cabin door startled her. She crushed out her cigarette butt in an ashtray and strode quickly to the door. Her face was hard with anger as she opened it for Roxanne.

"It's about time you showed up," she snapped. "I thought I told you to be here at eight on the dot."

"Am I late?" the girl purred as she came into the cabin. "Sorry about that. I think that clock watchers are such bores, don't you?"

"So is being kept waiting," Pat cracked. "I've got better things to do with my time than to sit around waiting for you."

Roxanne's eyes flashed with an inner wickedness as she caught Pat's glance. "Yes," she drawled, running the tip of her tongue ever so slightly across her bottom lip, "I'm sure you do."

Once again in the girl's presence, Pat felt herself tensing inside. There was something about Roxanne's manner that automatically set Pat on her guard, as though beneath that mocking, bitchy little smile of hers there was a genuine, if yet unspoken, danger.

"Sit down," she ordered. "You and I have got to have a talk about something important."

"My! How serious you sound, Big Sister!" the girl laughed.

Pat's eyes flashed with rage as she turned on her. "This is no joking matter, Roxanne. You're in very big trouble, whether you realize it or not."

"Oh? Well, in that case, I'd better have a cigarette," she said with a cocky smile. "May I have one of yours, please?"

"You may not!"

"Okay, I'll have one of my own, then. I'm almost out, or I wouldn't have asked for one of yours."

As the girl fished a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her shorts pocket and put one of them in her mouth, Pat's anger boiled to the point where it could no longer be controlled. Moving quickly across the room before Roxanne had a chance to strike a match, she snatched the cigarette from between her lips, crumpled it in her fist and threw the remains of the tobacco and filter tip into the ashtray.

"What did you do that for, dammit?" Roxanne growled. "I told you I'm almost out."

"Give me the rest of your cigarettes," Pat demanded.

"Like hell I will!"

"I said give them to me! You know it's against Mrs. Marchant's regulations for any of the girl campers to smoke up here; now give them to me!"

"Go fuck yourself!" Roxanne spat.

Quick as a flash, without even knowing what she was doing until she'd done it, Pat's hand flashed out and struck the girl hard across both cheeks. For a moment, they both seemed startled by the unexpectedness of the slap. Then, realizing what she'd done, Pat stepped back from the girl and muttered, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"You're going to be a whole lot sorrier!" Roxanne hissed. "Nobody's ever slapped me before in my life. You're going to pay for the pleasure you got out of doing that, Big Sister!"

Despite her determination not to let the girl get the upper hand, Pat couldn't help feeling another shudder of apprehension run through her. It was against regulations for a counselor to strike a camper, and they both knew it. Although compared to Roxanne's offense Pat's was the lesser one, she still knew that if it came to a confrontation with Mrs. Marchant she, too, would now be in trouble.

"Here," she muttered, reaching for her own pack of cigarettes on the bedside table and offering one to the girl, "I'm sorry. Have one of mine, if you need to smoke that badly."

"Thanks," Roxanne snapped, grabbing the whole pack from Pat's hand. "I'll keep them all, if you don't mind, Big Sister." She put one of the cigarettes in her mouth and lit it, blowing a billow of smoke directly into Pat's face. "Now what was it you wanted to talk to me about? I know it isn't just my smoking habits." As she drew another full puff of smoke into her lungs, she crossed the room and settled herself on Pat's bed, propping herself up with the pillow behind her back and raising one leg at the knee so that her crotch was openly exposed.

"No," Pat said slowly, keeping her stare full on the girl's face as she moved toward her, "I want to talk to you about your sexual habits."

"Oh, really?" Roxanne murmured, without so much as batting an eye. "That sounds like an interesting topic. Where do you want to start, Big Sister?"

"How about with last night?"

"Last night...?" Roxanne pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders. "What about it? I don't think I'm following you."

"Would it help any if I mentioned the name Mimsy Colberg?"

"Oh." The girl put the cigarette to her lips and drew in a deep puff, then let the smoke curl out slowly through her nostrils. "So you know about it. So what?"

"So what?" Pat gasped in astonishment. She couldn't help laughing at the girl's impudence. "Boy, you really are something, aren't you? You're the hardest little bitch I've met in a long, long time. Nothing really fazes you, does it?"

"Only boredom," she shrugged.

"And to relieve your boredom, you attack other girls?"

"Not only for that reason," she said with a slow smile. "I'm sure you can understand the others. We all get the itch now and then, you know."

Pat's eyes darted across the girl's face, wondering if there were more meaning behind her words than she was letting on. Her cocky manner hadn't abated for even a second. It seemed almost as though she knew there was nothing Pat could do to her, because of something she knew but wasn't yet revealing.

"You'd better think twice before scratching that itch again," she warned. "What happened last night is grounds enough for you to be thrown out of this camp first thing tomorrow morning. If I go to Mrs. Marchant with the story, that is."

"But you're not going to tell her, are you?" Roxanne purred.

"No, I'm not. I've decided to give you this warning and one last chance. If it happens again, though, if I even hear so much as a whisper about you bothering any of the other girls, I won't hesitate for a second to see that you're thrown out of here."

"Oh, don't worry," Roxanne laughed through another cloud of smoke she expelled through her nostrils. "I won't lay a finger on any of them."

"Well, you'd better not..."

"No, not them," she smiled. "You see, I didn't really want Mimsy; she just happened to be the only thing available at the time. But now..."

She let the rest of what she was going to say trail off in another mysterious smile.

"But now, what?" Pat asked suspiciously.

"Simple," Roxanne shrugged. "Now I've got you."

"Me...!"

"Yes, you. I've always preferred girls a little older than myself, anyway. You're just my type, Big Sister. We're going to get along just fine this summer, I can tell."

"Like hell!" Pat snorted. "Just who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? Don't you realize what you're doing?"

"I know exactly what I'm doing."

"I could go to Mrs. Marchant this minute and tell her what you've just said to me. What do you think her reaction would be?"

"I don't know. But I'll bet it wouldn't be anything like the reaction I'd get out of her if I told a few things I know."

For an instant, Pat felt as though her heart had stopped beating. "What is she getting at?" she thought, as a tingle of fear ran up and down her spine. "What does she knew?"

"Why don't you come over here and sit down beside me?" Roxanne murmured, patting her hand on the bed. "Let's make ourselves more comfortable, hmmmmm? Let's get to know one another."

"You're crazy!" Pat laughed. "I think you really are crazy!"

"What's wrong? Are you afraid somebody will come in and catch us? There's no one around; they're all at the movie. Come on," she beckoned a second time. "Sit over here by me and let's get friendly." She spread her legs a little further apart and dropped her hand down between them, rubbing slowly back and forth across her cunt through the summer shorts she was wearing. "You've got a lot of making up to do for those slaps you gave me, Big Sister."

Pat's body felt like a coiled spring about to snap. On the one hand she found the girl's mocking insolence unbearable and was determined to assert her authority as a camp counselor, even if it meant resorting to a conference with Mrs. Marchant about removing Roxanne from Summer Sisters. But on the other hand, seeing the girl rubbing herself like that and knowing she could have her by merely crossing the room to the bed and getting down on it alongside her, Pat's sexual instincts were being more strongly roused with every minute that went by. She remembered the full, lush curves of Roxanne's nude body in the shower and how she had watched her with lust in her eyes. She could have that body now, even though it would mean she could no longer make a report to the camp's owner, no matter what the girl did for the rest of the summer.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" Roxanne murmured. She crushed out her cigarette in the ashtray and began to unbutton the front of her blouse. She wore no bra underneath, and as she opened the blouse further and further her young, firm tits came quickly into view. Slipping the blouse off her shoulders and dropping it to the floor alongside the bed, she cupped her hands in under the large tits and offered them in Pat's direction. "Come on," she coaxed. "You couldn't get enough of a look at them in the shower room last night, so why not come closer and take a good look now?"

"So that's it!" Pat thought with relief. She had feared that Roxanne's veiled hints of knowing something damaging against her were based on concrete facts, but it now seemed that she had no more than a suspicion on her side. She'd probably caught Pat's stare in the shower room and figured she could entice her into a sexual act. Once suspicion had been confirmed as fact, there would be nothing Pat could say to the camp owner about what had happened with Mimsy Colberg. But if that was Roxanne's plan for getting herself out of trouble, Pat thought, she was about to discover how quickly it was going to backfire on her.

"Sorry, honey," she said with a smile of only a dead a satisfaction now that she felt control was passing back into her own hands, "but you're barking up the wrong tree."

"Am I?"

"You sure are. As a matter of fact, you've just used up that last chance I gave you, too. Put on your blouse," she snapped. "You and I are going to see Mrs. Marchant right now."

"I wouldn't advise that, Big Sister."

"Why not?"

"Because I just might be forced to tell her what I know about you. You and your cute little girlfriend, June."

The confidence which Pat had felt moment earlier suddenly dropped like a weight into the pit of her stomach, "Wh-what are you talking about?" she stammered.

"You know, you really should pull the curtains all the way closed before you eat your girlfriend's pussy," Roxanne smiled. "Otherwise you never know who might peek in and see you with your head between her legs."

The blood in Pat's veins felt like it had turned to ice water. A knot was tightening like a fist inside her stomach and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick. Was the girl still bluffing, she wondered, or had she really seen something through the cabin window last night?

"What makes you think Mrs. Marchant would believe a filthy lie like that?" she challenged.

"Because it's not a filthy lie, Big Sister," Roxanne purred. "It's the filthy truth. I saw you last night. I saw everything you did to Miss Dainty and I'll tell it all to Mrs. Marchant if you force me to."

"You little bitch!" Pat hissed.

"I don't deny it," the girl smiled. "But it takes a big bitch to recognize a little one. We're cut from the same cloth, Big Sister Bitch. So let's stop playing games with each other, huh? If you don't tell on me, I won't tell on you. It's as simple as that."

"And what makes you think I'm going to sleep with you, no matter what you might know about me?"

"Because if you don't," Roxanne smiled sweetly, "I'm going to go to Mrs. Marchant and tell her I can't spend the whole summer in a camp with lesbian counselors. Okay?"

Pat's eyes flashed with rage and fury, but she knew there was nothing she could do. She was trapped. Roxanne had the power to get both herself and June fired from their summer jobs; dismissed in disgrace. Any thought of getting rid of the girl had just been washed down the drain. In a complete turn-about, it was now she who could get rid of them, just by opening her mouth to the camp owner about what she'd seen.

"Okay," she sighed wearily. "So we've got a stalemate. Where does that leave us?"

"Right where we are. Alone together. About to make love. Isn't that the way you've wanted it all along, but haven't been able to admit to yourself?" She cupped her hands under her bare breasts once again and leaned forward. "Come on. What are you waiting for? I know you want me as much as I want you. Let's not waste any more time. Let's just do what we both want to do."

Pat moved slowly toward the bed, her hands trembling at her sides. The worst part of it all, she knew, was that Roxanne was right. She did want the girl. Desperately. Her eyes had been drawn almost irresistibly to those naked tits and the promise of the warm young cunt waiting under those tight-fitting shorts. She hated her for the position she'd put herself and June into, yes, but she wanted her body with an equal intensity. The encounter with June the previous night had been only half-satisfying. She still craved the feel of another girl's tongue moving in and out of her own hole, which June had not offered to do for her. Her body was crying out with need. If Roxanne was willing to satisfy it... why not let her? Certainly she couldn't make the situation any worse by sleeping with the girl. And it was just possible that taking Roxanne as a lover for the summer might make things a whole lot better. June seemed reluctant to resume the sexual relationship they'd had the previous year. Rather than having to coax and beg her every night for love, wouldn't it better to switch to a girl like Roxanne, who was willing and eager to do whatever Pat wanted?

"That's right," the girl murmured, as Pat sat down on the edge of the bed alongside her. "Now you're acting sensibly." Her hands reached out and started to open Pat's blouse. "It's not fair, you know, that you've seen all of my body, but I haven't even seen your tits. I think you should get undressed and let me look at you."

"All right," Pat whispered, "if that's what you want."

"Stand up," Roxanne smiled. "Give me a little striptease show. Work me up with your body, Big Sister."

"Will you please stop calling me that?" she snapped angrily. "My name is Pat."

"Okay, Big Sister," the girl grinned. "Now stand up and get those clothes off."

Pat felt the sting of humiliation burning through her as she began to undress, but along with it was a growing excitement and a feverish need that was making her heart beat faster with each second. She could feel her nipples stirring and beginning to harden as she slipped off her blouse and exposed her tits to the girl.

"Come here," Roxanne ordered, motioning with her hand. "Don't take your shorts off yet. Let me play with your tits for a minute first."

Moving up to the edge of the bed, Pat put her hands on her hips and closed her eyes as Roxanne's fingers groped for her breasts and squeezed them with a surprising pressure. Within seconds, both nipples were gorged with hard life and pressed flush into the palms of the girl's hands.

"You've got big tits, Big Sister!" she laughed softly. "Like mine are going to be in a couple more years. We've even got the same color nipples."

Pat's eyes opened and darted down to the girl's chest. It was true. The same large, dark brown nipples and haloes which pointed from the tips of her own breasts were almost exactly duplicated on Roxanne's. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing a younger reflection of herself.

"Touch mine, too," the girl coaxed. "You don't have to be bashful, you know. I've seen you in action, remember. I want us to make love just as hot as you did with your little friend last night."

Pat's hands were trembling as she reached down to cup the two firm tits on the younger girl's chest. It felt like a series of little electric shocks ran through her fingers and up into her arms as she squeezed the solid flesh and watched the nipples pushing out in excited hardness. Her throat felt as dry as bone, but when her tongue flicked nervously over her lower lip she was surprised by how much saliva was in her mouth.

"Kiss them," Roxanne commanded. "Bend down and kiss those tits for me. Make my nipples hard as rubber with your mouth."

Pat hesitated a moment, knowing that she was on the brink of no return. There was still a chance that Mrs. Marchant wouldn't believe Roxanne's story, if Pat was willing to face the confrontation. She could still pull back and take her chances on the consequences. But deep inside herself she knew she didn't want to stop. Her body was tingling all over with sexual excitement and a need that this girl would be able to satisfy with her hot flesh. She knew that if she made so much as a single move toward fulfilling that need, she would not be able to stop until she'd gone all the way.

"Come on," Roxanne growled, reaching for Pat's head and pulling her down toward the waiting tits. "Suck them for me, Big Sister. Show me how good you are with your mouth."

Her body rocked slowly back and forth; her hands twitched restlessly against the solid breasts she held. Her eyes darted toward the door and windows, wondering if anyone else might be outside watching them. The curtains seemed tightly closed and she recalled having slipped the door bolt into place when she let Roxanne into the cabin. It was safe. All she needed was her own instinct to push her over the edge.

"Come on! Suck! They're waiting for you! Put your mouth on those tits and suck, Big Sister!"

With a little groan of surrender, Pat suddenly dropped to her knees on the floor alongside the bod and smothered her face in the warm pillow of tit on the younger girl's chest. Her tongue flicked through her moistened lips and began to stroke up and down the solid mounds, making spirals that drew closer and closer to the pulsing nipples. When she slipped one of them inside her mouth at last, the thing felt so hard she was fearful of biting it with her teeth in case it exploded.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh!" Roxanne moaned, settling herself down on the bed as Pat made love to her tits. "That's the way! It feels so good! Lick them! Lick those tits all over for me! I love how you use that big wet tongue of yours! I can't wait to feel it inside my cunt!"

Knowing now that it was too late to turn back for any reason, Pat let herself go completely. She began to make love to the girl with no reservations, no hesitations, no reluctance. Her flesh was Pat's, to do whatever she wanted with.

Burrowing her mouth down on one tit at a time, she sucked the nipples deeply between her lips and licked them furiously. When she let them pop free of her mouth with a wet, smacking noise, the brown nubs and the wide circles surrounding them glistened with the sheen of her spittle. Her hands groped down the length of Roxanne's body. Over her chest... across her belly... fumbling with the button on her shorts... opening it... spreading them apart... pushing them down... uncovering more and more female flesh... finding hair... a thick patch... soft flesh beneath it.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" the girl moaned, as she felt Pat's fingers stroking through the tangle of thick brown hair between her legs. "Touch my pussy! Feel it all over! Make me wet for you, so you'll taste me as soon as you put your tongue on me! Go on! Do it!"

Pat didn't have to be told. She was too far gone by then. Her body was roused by the primitive instincts of sex and her need was expressing itself through every movement of her hands and mouth. Scrambling up onto the bed with Roxanne, she got onto her knees between the girl's spread legs and pushed her face between them. She was surprised by the heat she felt coming from the young girl's cunt. It was like shoving her face into a red-hot oven.

"Lick it! Lick it!" Roxanne moaned, thrashing her body on the mattress as Pat's tongue began to explore her cunt. "Lick it! Make my hair sopping wet with your spit! Make it run down into my hole when it drools from your mouth! Go on! Stick that tongue of yours in there!"

Pat took a firm grip on the girl's thighs and pulled them far apart. Looking down, she could see the red meat of Roxanne's cunt through the heavy bush of dark hair. The outer lips of the hole seemed to be winking at her in invitation, flexing open and closed as the girl worked the muscles inside. Her mind was spinning dizzily with lust. Her senses seemed completely engulfed in cunt. The aroma of Roxanne's hole was subtle, but filled Pat's nostrils like an intoxicating drug. The feel of that crisp hair against her fingers as she rubbed them back and forth across the outer lips was like the touch of finest mink to her. And the taste, too, made her mouth drool with hunger.

"Do it to me," Roxanne whimpered, her own senses reeling with lust that matched Pat's. "Please! I need it so bad! Do it to me! Stick your tongue in there and lick me! Make me come! Oh, please! Put your tongue in my hole and lick me until you've made me come all over your mouth!"

"Yes! Yesssssssssss!" Pat gasped.

As she lowered her face to the waiting cunt, Roxanne suddenly lifted her other leg up and bent it at the knee, so that her body formed a sort of cradle for Pat's head to nestle into. With her ass raised off the mattress, her cunt was high in the air and wide open for the first thrust of Pat's hot tongue.

"Oh, God!" the girl screamed, as she felt the warm, wet tongue lap over the opening of her cunt and then wriggle slowly inside it. "Yesssssssss! Like that! Stick it in as far as it'll go and lick me clean!"

Once her tongue was inside the girl's cunt, Pat broke down the last of her restraints. Her pulse was pounding crazily, and her heart seemed about to burst if it didn't slow down its wild throbbing, but nothing could have stopped her until she'd drawn out the full stream of thick juice from Roxanne's delicious young cunt. The taste of her was habit-forming; the more Pat ate, the more she wanted. Her tongue fluttered frantically in and out of the hole, striking the girl at a slightly different angle with each stab.

It had been so long since she'd put her tongue in another girl's cunt, she'd almost forgotten the differences in taste. Roxanne's hole was nothing like June's. The flavor was entirely different. A little sharper, perhaps, but it was like tasting some strange delicacy for the first time and developing an instant craving for it. Her mouth smacked wetly around the hole as she burrowed deeper and deeper into it, wanting to draw out the juice of orgasm and make her loving complete.

"Oh, oh please!" Roxanne moaned. Her thighs closed in on Pat's head, locking it in place as she worked her cunt up and down against her mouth and stabbing tongue. "I'm so close! Don't stop now! I'm so close!"

Hearing this, Pat's tongue became even more frantic. She shoved it so high into the hot young cunt that it made her throat ache, but she knew by the increasing tension in Roxanne's legs that it wouldn't be much longer before the girl climaxed. She could already taste the first sweet dribbles of juice starting to run from her hole as she worked to burst the rest of it free.

When it happened, it came so unexpectedly that Pat had to pull her face back for a second to keep from being smothered in the hairy flesh of Roxanne's cunt. With a deep moan, the girl thrust herself up at Pat's mouth, and the syrup began to run from her like a volcano shooting out its lava. Her tongue lapped frantically in and out of the hole, not wanting to lose a precious drop of the sweet cream. She took it into her mouth and swallowed, then stabbed her tongue back in the hole for more. Only when the last drop had been brought into her mouth did she lift away from Roxanne's cunt and slide her tongue free.

"Well?" she murmured, looking up at the girl's face with a tender smile. "Was it everything you hoped it would be?"

"More!" the girl swore. "I never dreamed anything could be like that! It felt like you were doing it to me for the very first time; like I'd never had it done to me before."

"Which, of course, you have," Pat smiled.

"Oh, many times!" Roxanne laughed.

"And the other way? Have you done it many times, too?"

"Uh-huh. I don't think I'm as good at it as you are, but I've never had any complaints."

"I'll have to judge that for myself," Pat murmured. She slid up alongside the girl and rolled onto her back. She expected Roxanne to change places with her and return the favor. As the girl got up, Pat closed her eyes and spread her legs apart in expectation. But instead of getting onto her knees between Pat's legs, Roxanne got out of bed and started to put her clothes back on.

"What are you doing?" Pat gulped in surprise and disappointment.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting dressed."

"Why...?"

"They'll start to wonder where I am if I don't get back to the other girls soon," she explained with a wicked smile. "The movie's almost over by now, you know. Your little friend will be coming back to the cabin soon. You wouldn't want her to catch us like this, would you? Unless you two go in for three-ways, I mean."

"No, of course not," Pat said quickly. The last thing in the world she wanted was for June to find out about what had just happened. She had decided not even to tell her friend that Roxanne had seen them in bed the previous night. It would only make June worry unnecessarily, now that things seemed to have been settled. And yet, the throbbing need inside her was still strong. In the last two nights she had satisfied both June and Roxanne, but neither girl had done the same for her. If it didn't happen soon, she knew, something desperate was liable to happen.

"What's the matter?" Roxanne smiled, as she put on her blouse and quickly buttoned it up. "You look like something's wrong."

"I-I'd just hoped that -- that you would..."

"Do the same thing to you that you just did to me?" the girl teased. "Yesssssss!"

Roxanne moved close to the bed and dropped her hand quickly between Pat's legs. Her fingers stroked up and down against her cunt through the shorts she was still wearing. "Would you like me to put my tongue up there and lick you out, too?" she murmured. "Oh, yes!"

"But we don't have time."

"It'll only take a minute..." Pat pleaded. "I'm so hot!"

"Really? Ready to burst, hmmmmmm?" Roxanne's fingers hurriedly opened the zipper on Pat's shorts and parted them enough to reveal the thick bush of black hair surrounding her twitching cunt. She dropped her head and nuzzled her wet mouth against the fleshy warmth.

"Oh, yes!" Pat cried. She felt a hot flash run through her whole body from the touch of the girl's mouth to her hole. Her hands reached down to press Roxanne's head lower, but the instant she touched the girl's head she pulled away with a little laugh. "What -- ?"

"You'll have to let your girlfriend finish the job tonight, Big Sister," she taunted. "I've got to run. I don't want any bad stories being spread around about me, you know."

"But..."

"Oh, don't look so upset!" she laughed, as she stopped at the door. "You'll get me to stick my tongue up there; don't worry. But you've got to coax me a little first." She slipped the bolt open and pulled back the door. "And just think, Big Sister, you've got all summer to coax me! All summer long!"

CHAPTER SIX

The ashtray alongside Pat Fulton's bed was slowly but surely turning into a mountain-high mound of half-smoked cigarette butts and discarded matches. No sooner had she crushed out one smoke than she was leaching for the pack to light another. She usually chain smoked when she was nervous or depressed or highly emotional about something. That night, after Roxanne's departure from the cabin, Pat felt a little of all three emotions, and her smoking habit became more and more restless as she waited for June to return.

The high state of nerves she felt that night came, too, from a raging sexual need inside her that had yet to be satisfied. She knew that if she'd masturbated while eating Roxanne's cunt, she wouldn't feel such a keen edge of frustration, but she had assumed the girl would return the favor after she'd finished. The last thing she'd expected was for the girl to walk out, leaving Pat's own body still hot with frustration. She still could have worked her fingers in and out of her hole until she had a climax, but that night she didn't want that particular brand of gratification. She got enough of it during the long winter months at school, when there were no other girls around to do the job for her. She craved physical contact. Mouth-loving from another girl was what she needed most, and the best prospect for giving her that was June Halstead.

Remembering how wonderful it had been the previous summer, when she and June made wild, uninhibited love to one another almost every night from right after turning the girls in until morning, made matters no better. It didn't seem fair to her that June should have changed so abruptly, with no advance warning. Looking forward to a summer of lovemaking, she found herself facing endless months of frustration head-on. Unless, that is, Roxanne proved to be more than just the little tease Pat suspected her to be.

"Everything for everyone else," she thought bitterly, "and nothing for me. Well, that's going to stop right now. I want something out of all this, too."

Even as the words went through her mind, she heard the knob turn on the cabin door and looked up to see June slipping inside.

"Oh, you're still awake," she said with a strange, almost bashful smile.

"Yeah, I'm still awake," Pat muttered. "Where've you been?"

"You know there were movies at the lodge tonight..."

"Yeah, I know. And I also know they ended more than an hour ago. Where've you been in the meantime?"

"What is this?" June laughed nervously. "An inquisition?"

"Sort of, yeah." Pat's eyes held her lover's in grim determination, demanding an answer.

As June began to strip off her clothes, she turned her back to Pat as though in embarrassment to be seen nude by her, for fear of where it might lead.

"Oh, well, you know how the girls get after they've had a little freedom and have been allowed to stay up late. It took me a long while to get them all settled down in their bunks."

"What did you have to do to get them quiet?" Pat cracked. "Or shouldn't I ask?"

"What do you mean by that?" June asked, whirling around with her blouse half-off and her eyes flashing with anger.

"You know what I mean. I guess you had to sing Mimsy Colberg to sleep, huh? So she won't have bad dreams about wicked old dykes grabbing her in the dark?"

"You're behaving like a fool right now, Pat, and I wish you'd stop it."

"Why? Did I hit too close to the truth? Were you with her? Maybe you took her for a little walk in the woods, to show her there's nothing to be afraid of? Except you, of course."

"If you don't stop this," June warned, "I'm going to get very angry with you in about two seconds."

"Hah!" Pat laughed bitterly, "At least anger would be some emotion. Which is more than I've been able to get out of you since we got here yesterday."

"Not that again," she sighed wearily, dropping her blouse onto a chair and reaching to open the zipper on her shorts. "I thought we went all through that last night and you understood how I felt."

"Yeah, we did," Pat agreed. "But I don't think you understand how I feel, baby."

Ignoring her, June dropped her shorts to the floor and stepped out of them. She wore only panties now, with her breasts bared. She pulled down the covers on her bed and got in under them. As her hand reached out to snap off the light between the two bunks, Pat's hand snapped to grab and stop her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Putting out the light, of course. I'm tired and I want to get some sleep. I've got four classes tomorrow and I'm going to need my rest."

"What about what I need? Tonight?"

"Pat," she sighed, "I'm not going to go over it with you again. I'm sorry about what happened last night. I guess I never should have let you -- do what you did. It was wrong of me to let you get your hopes up for nothing."

"I'm not talking about what happened last night; I'm talking about what didn't happen."

"I don't..." June swallowed hard and shifted her eyes from Pat's. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. I'm still waiting for my turn, honey."

June's hand fluttered to be free of her friend's grip. "Did you have your talk with Roxanne?" she asked.

"Don't try to change the subject..."

"Did you?"

"Yes, dammit, I did!"

"And...?"

"And what?"

"Is she going to cause any more trouble?"

"Who knows?" Pat shrugged, "Probably. She's that kind of a girl. Trouble is almost second nature to her." For a moment she was tempted to tell June that Roxanne had seen them making love the night before, then quickly discarded the idea. It might get too complicated if June knew. She might get all sorts of crazy notions into her head; maybe even go to Mrs. Marchant and make a clean breast of things, hoping that the camp owner would forgive and forget. She didn't know people and their prejudices the way Pat did.

"Did she agree to leave Mimsy alone?" June asked.

"Yeah." Her eyes scanned her lover's face with barely concealed rage. "The field's clear for you now, honey."

"Will you stop that kind of talk? Please? I've told you a dozen times already, I'm not interested in Mimsy that way."

"What way are you interested in her?"

"Oh, you're impossible!" June snapped, pulling her hand free from Pat's grip. She snapped out, the bedside light and plunged the cabin into almost total darkness. "Good night!"

As June rolled over on her side, turning her back to Pat, the other girl pushed back her covers and got out of bed. She was nude, but it was not the slight chill in the night air that made her body tremble as she moved slowly toward June's bed. The need in her, mingled with conflicting emotions of anger and jealousy, made it almost impossible to control what she was doing.

"Just a minute!" she snapped, pulling back June's covers and turning on the light once again. "I'm not finished talking with you yet!"

"What more is there to say?" June sighed.

"How about, 'Let me make love to you, Pat,' for openers? I'm sure I can think of something else to say after that."

"I don't want to say that, because I don't want to make love to you. Now will you please get back in your own bed and leave me alone?"

"No! No way, honey. You and me have a little date tonight, whether you know it or not. I've been bottled up inside for months now and unless you help me do something about it, I'm going to burst. And if that happens," she warned, "you might be very, very sorry you've treated me like this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't suppose it would be very hard for me to find out the last name of your little college boy," Pat hissed. "He might be very interested in reading some certain letters I've been saving ever since the summer ended last year. He might like to know what kind of a girl he's getting involved with."

"You wouldn't dare!" June gasped.

"Wouldn't I? Don't push me, honey, because desperate people sometimes do desperate things. I might even find a letter or two that would interest your parents if they were to read them, and I know where they live."

"Oh, I hate you!" June spat. "I never thought when I wrote those letters that you'd use them against me."

"And I never thought when I read those letters that you'd treat me like this," Pat countered. "I thought you meant what you said in them."

"I did -- at the time."

"But not now?"

"Things change, Pat. People change, too. You can't expect things to stay as they are forever."

"I'm not worried about forever; I'm just thinking about how I'll get through tonight. I've got a pretty good idea, but I'm going to need your help." Pulling the covers on June's bed further down, she slipped onto the mattress beside her and tried to take her in her arms. June resisted, pulling away as Pat's mouth reached to kiss hers.

"Stop this, Pat! I won't let it happen again!"

"You've got no choice, honey. It's already happening, whether you like it or not." As though to prove her point, she dropped her hand down between June's legs and groped with her fingers through the soft fuzz until she found the opening of her hole. The middle finger nudged against the slit, trying to push its way in despite June's resistance.

"No... please... Pat... don't..."

"You know you want me to do this to you," she murmured. "And you know you want to do the same things to me. If you'd just stop carrying on and let yourself go..."

To her astonishment, June suddenly whirled around in the bed and struck her a stinging blow across the cheek. Her eyes were flashing with rage as she pushed her away. "Get out of my bed! Get out this instant! If you don't, I'm going to report you to Mrs. Marchant! I'll tell her everything, no matter what it means to either of us!"

"Baby," Pat growled in a low, threatening voice, "I didn't want it to be like this, but you asked for it."

With a quick movement, she caught June by the arm and twisted until the girl was crying out with pain. Holding fast to her, she turned her body around until she was facing her, then stretched herself out on the bed and shoved June down between her legs.

"Get your head down there and make love to me!" she snarled. "I don't care what you do afterwards. If you want to go to Marchant, fine. But you're not stepping one foot outside this cabin until you've eaten my cunt!"

"No! Never! You'll never make me do it!" June screamed.

Pat's hand swung out and struck the girl hard on the face. "That's only a sample of what you're going to get if you scream like that again!" she warned. "I'm just in the mood to do a whole lot of harm to somebody tonight, baby, and if you're determined it's going to be you there's nothing I can do to hold myself back. Take your choice: either you do what I want you to willingly, or you do it by force. Which is it going to be?"

"I hate you!" June hissed. "I really hate you. I never saw you like this before; it's like you're a completely different person."

"That's right; I am! I'm a girl who needs sex, and the reason you never saw me like this before is because you always were willing to give me sex."

"I wish I'd never seen you. I wish I'd never come to this camp again, knowing you'd be here."

"I don't care what you wish, just get down there and put some tongue in my pussy!"

June shuddered in revulsion from the crudeness of Pat's outcries, but she knew there was little she could do to stop what was happening. With those letters in her possession, Pat could ruin her life forever. Her parents would never get over the shock of knowing their daughter had once had lesbian relations with another girl, nor would Gary, the boy she loved in college. In the crazy mood Pat was in that night, she seemed capable of anything. Even such a desperate measure of revenge as sending those letters she'd once written to her.

"And what if I do what you say?" June asked. "Will you give me back my letters and leave me alone for the rest of the summer?"

"It depends," Pat said with a cruel smile.

"On what?"

"On how well you do me right now. If you completely satisfy me, I'll think about giving the letters back to you. If not -- well, you'd better start looking for a new boyfriend."

"You're contemptible!"

"Yeah, and I'm also horny as hell. So get your mouth down there and start working; I'm starting to get bored with this conversation."

Even as the words left her mouth, Pat had to shudder at the realization of how much she had sounded like Roxanne. Even her behavior, using the threat of blackmail to get the sex she wanted, was like the girl's. What was it she said, Pat thought quickly. "We're cut from the same cloth?" Something like that. But it wasn't true, she vowed. Roxanne treated people as she did out of sheer enjoyment from the pain she caused; Pat knew she was behaving as she was only because her need was so desperate. They weren't at all alike, she swore.

Holding tightly to June's head, she pushed her down between her legs and closed her thighs tightly in on her. She could feel June's breath blowing against her cunt, and the sensation sent sharp tingles of excitement shooting through her. The inside of her cunt felt like a cooking volcano, about to erupt its gusher of hot lava at the least provocation. She wanted satisfaction as quickly as possible, but at the same time she hoped she would be able to hold on long enough to enjoy the pleasure of June's lips and tongue working her over at least as long as she'd done for her the previous night.

"Get down on it!" she ordered. "Open your mouth, for crissake! Stick your tongue in there! Start doing something, damn you!"

Slowly, resentfully, June wriggled her tongue from her mouth and started to lick up and down the dark-haired outer slit of Pat's crack. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the aroma of hot cunt, and her nose tickled from the feel of the thick bush surrounding it. She'd often put her mouth to that same cunt in the past, but it had never been under such circumstances. Always before, when she and Pat were summer lovers, she had wanted to use her mouth like this and had done so willingly and joyfully; being forced to do it against her will made the act somehow degrading and repellent. She could feel a slight wave of nausea gurgling in her throat as she began to prod the tip of her tongue against the opening to the other girl's hole.

"That's right!" Pat gasped. "Now you're starting to cook, baby! Put that tongue in there! Stick it up that juicy hole and lick me 'til I cream all over your mouth!"

Hearing those words made June gag slightly, but she nudged her tongue further into the hot crack and began to lick the moist, jelly-like membranes on both sides of the deep tunnel. It was funny, she thought, how all the little tricks and secrets she had learned about cunt-lapping the previous summer were coming back to her now. It was almost as though nothing had changed and she was still doing what she wanted most in the world.

But things had changed, June knew. Pat was no longer her lover, and what she was forcing her to do to her had nothing at all to do with the tenderness of loving. This was like rape, in a way, as she twisted her thighs tighter and tighter around June's head and thrust that hot, dripping cunt up and down at her face with more and more reckless abandon as her passion mounted.

If Gary had never come into her life, June knew, she might be enjoying this as much as she had in the past. But the boy had shown her the intense pleasure of a different kind of lovemaking and ever afterward things couldn't be the same for her with Pat or any other girl. It was like she had grown up during the last months of school and what she was now doing was a relic of her foolish, childhood days. This was something that girls did for one another because they didn't know anything better, she thought. Surely, if Pat had known the same joy she had, June thought, she wouldn't be so insistent on this kind of sex. She would know that a wriggling wet tongue, no matter how skillfully it was used, was no substitute for a long, thick, pumping cock moving in and out of her cunt.

"Deeper! Deeper!" Pat moaned, rocking her cunt from side to side as June's twitching tongue curled around inside it. "Stick that tongue all the way in me, baby! Stretch it as far as it'll go! Make me feel sparks from it shoot all the way up to my belly!"

June's mouth made wet, gurgling noises as her lips smacked open and shut against the pulsing cunt. Her tongue was starting to get sore from stretching in and out of the hot hole. She knew by the increasing tension in Pat's body that it wouldn't be much longer before she reached a climax, and the faster and harder she licked her cunt, the sooner it would happen. But at the same time, she dreaded the orgasm that would flood her mouth with the sticky syrup of Pat's hole. She wished she could pull her head away before all that thick juice dribbled into her mouth, but the way the girl's thighs were holding her tightly in place she knew it would be impossible. She was trapped by Pat's flesh; doomed to stay there until the bitter end.

"Oh, come on! Come on, baby!" Pat gasped, thrusting herself more violently up from the bed. "I'm so close! Eat me, baby, and make me come! Do it for me! I'm so close!"

She raised her head slightly from the pillow and stared down the length of her naked body. A hot little thrill shot through her as she stared at June's bobbing head moving between her thighs. It was almost as exciting for her to watch her cunt being eaten by the other girl as it was to experience the feeling itself. It was almost like June was her love-slave, she thought. Her willing little servant, who would do anything she was ordered to do. Even push her face into her mistress's cunt and use her tongue to give her the satisfaction her body craved.

"Wouldn't I love to have a picture of this to send to your boyfriend!" she thought wickedly, staring down at Pat's blonde head between her legs. "Of course, with your face pushed halfway up my cunt he'd have a little trouble recognizing you, but he sure as hell wouldn't have to wonder what you were doing! No sir, baby! You're eating cunt!"

Suddenly, from somewhere deep inside her, a rush of tenderness for the girl came flooding through Pat's mind and body. It could have been so wonderful for them this summer, she thought, if only things hadn't changed while they were apart during the last months. She recalled all the nights of the past summer at the camp, when they'd made love until it was almost daybreak, then fallen asleep locked in one another's arms with the sweat of loving still clinging to their flesh. There would be none of that this time, she knew. As soon as June had brought her off, she'd want to pull away and have nothing more to do with her. What she was doing wasn't the same as it once had been. It was just raw sex. Satisfying, yes, but with none of the intense love in it that had once made such an act the ultimate satisfaction for them both.

Something had changed it all, she thought. Probably this was the last time she would ever feel June's tongue moving in and out of her cunt, or feel the warm drool from her mouth running from her open lips and sopping into the thick bush of black hair surrounding the hole. It made Pat's heart ache to think June wouldn't even be doing it now if she wasn't being forced. For a moment she considered relaxing the pressure of her thighs around her head and letting June pull free before she climaxed. It might make a difference if June understood how she felt. Perhaps later on, as the days of summer passed into weeks and they became close to one another again, she would change her mind and want to resume their affair. How much better it would be, she thought, if June wanted to make love to her like this. How much more intense the feeling would be for them both.

But then again, she quickly thought, there was no guarantee that such a change would happen. Maybe June would never be her lover again, no matter what she did or how she tried to recreate the past. It might be foolish to release her, when satisfaction was so close she could almost taste it. She'd gone to sleep the previous night in sexual frustration, and the encounter with Roxanne earlier that evening had done little to give her peace of mind. If she didn't climax soon, she knew, she would be in a wild state of frustration.

Besides, she thought angrily, turn-about was only fair play. Hadn't she eaten June's cunt until the girl climaxed? Wasn't it only right that she should return the favor? Didn't she have as much of a right to gratification as anyone else?

Her thighs squeezed with the last ounce of pressure left in them, and she ground her wet, hairy cunt up at June's face. "I'm ready, baby!" she panted. "Hold on! Just keep pushing that hot little tongue of yours in there, because I'm ready now! I'm going to give you a big, big drink of my juice! Open your mouth wide, baby, because here -- it -- aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! -- comes!"

With a shudder that rocked her whole body, she thrust herself up against June's face and let the dam inside her cunt burst free. Her legs trembled around the other girl's neck as she felt the warm ripples moving through her hole, sending gusher after gusher of thick, bitter-tasting cream pouring over June's tongue and into her mouth. She could hear her gagging and making choking noises in her throat as she tried to swallow down the thick outpour, but her thighs held the girl firmly in place until the last convulsion had eased away. She was determined that every drop of her juice was going to find its way into June's mouth and not be wasted by dribbling onto the sheet or sticking in the tangle of wet hair outside her cunt. This was an orgasm she wanted June to taste in her mouth for days afterward, as a reminder of all she'd given up. Maybe, Pat hoped, it would re-awaken the desire in her and force her to realize that no man's vile cock or its sour-tasting cum could hope to be a substitute for the bliss of another girl's body taken in love.

When at last she had stopped coming and June's tongue lay motionless inside her hole, she eased her thighs apart and dropped them slowly back onto the mattress. June pulled her head away a few moments later. There was a distant, almost dazed look to her eyes as she stared up at Pat's face.

"Darling!" the girl whispered, reaching down to pull her up into an embrace. "Oh, my sweet angel! That was so wonderful! I can't tell you how happy it's made me..."

"Is that all?"

June's voice sounded so unexpectedly cold and hard that for a moment Pat was at a loss for words. "Wh-what?" she stammered. She felt a little chill run through her as she watched the cold hatred in the girl's eyes turn her face into an ugly mask of loathing.

"I said is that all you want from me? You got what you asked for; can I go to sleep now?"

All of the warmth and tenderness and loving she'd felt for the girl slowly drained out of Pat as she confronted those hard, frozen features. In their place carne a cold fury of her own. She swung her legs off June's bed and got shakily to her feet.

"Baby," she hissed angrily, as she crossed the room to her own bunk, "for all I care, you can go to hell now if you want to."

CHAPTER SEVEN

The following afternoon, when June's basket weaving class had ended, Mimsy Colberg remained behind while the other girls ran down to the lake for their swimming lessons. She sat in the same spot she'd occupied without moving once during the whole class, her eyes downcast at the rattan she was weaving around wicker supports. She was so quiet that for the first few minutes, as she cleaned up after the rest of the girls and settled her materials in their proper places, June was not even aware the girl was still there. It startled her a bit when she turned and suddenly confronted her.

"Why -- Mimsy!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you were still here! You scared the life out of me!"

"I'm sorry, June," the girl murmured, her eyes still concentrating on her basketwork.

"The class is over now, you know," June reminded her.

"Yes, I know."

"Well -- shouldn't you be down at the lake, with the other girls?"

"No," she murmured, shaking her head slowly from side to side. "I've been excused from swimming today."

"Why?" June asked, before thinking.

"For the same reason I'll also be excused the rest of the week," the girl said, with the trace of a smile. "It's that time of the month. My mother used to say, 'My little friend is paying me a visit.'. Corny, isn't it? I mean, why couldn't she just come right out and say, 'Don't bother me, I'm having my period.'? It would've been so much more honest, don't you think?"

"Well," June smiled, "I guess people weren't always as frank with each other as they are today. Especially young people. Your mother and I both grew up in different ages, when people felt different ways about things than they do today."

"Oh, you're not like my mother!" Mimsy proclaimed earnestly, looking up directly into June's face for the first time. "You're not old, June. You're young and -- beautiful."

"But I did grow up in a different age than you're growing up in, Mimsy," she explained. "Even though I'm only about five years older than you are, in this day and age five years means a lot. More than it ever used to. I think what I'm trying to say is that I can understand more easily the way your mother, for instance, or mine, for that matter, would think about a certain thing than I can understand the way someone of your age would think about the same thing. I guess that links me more with the past than with the future."

"That's nonsense!" Mimsy laughed. "You're as young as I am, and I'm as old as you are. We're the same age, really, when it comes to important things. I hardly know you, but I feel I could talk to you about things I'd never be able to talk to my mother about, even today, as grown up as I am."

"As grown up as you are," June thought with a tender smile as she stared into the girl's eyes. "I hope you'll always feel you know all there is to know about life... and never have to experience any of the really horrible parts of living that do make little girls grow up."

"Things like... sex, for instance," Mimsy continued.

"Oh! Sex!" June raised her eyebrows in a mock gesture of shock. "Tsk-tsk-tsk," she clucked. "That subject! Well, if we're going to talk about s-e-x, we'd better not talk out here where the birds and bees might overhear us. They might laugh at what we think we know. How about helping me carry some of these things back to my cabin, as long as you're not going swimming?"

"Sure!" A bright, suddenly radiant smile broke across the girl's face and she was instantly on her feet, ready to help. "I'd be glad to, June. What can I do?"

"Well, how about you taking that large sack with the rattan coils and I'll take the rest? Do you think you can manage it?"

"Oh, sure!" Mimsy smiled, moving quickly toward the sack and lifting it with both hands. "I'm a lot stronger than I look. Just 'cause I'm little, it doesn't mean I'm weak."

"No, I can see that," June grinned. "Okay then, let's go."

"June?"

"Yes?"

"As long as we're going to your cabin," the girl murmured, "do you mind if I save what I want to ask you until we get there? I mean, it's kind of serious and -- well -- I'd like to have your complete attention."

"Don't you think I could give you my complete attention while we're walking?" June smiled.

The girl's cheeks colored quickly with embarrassment. "Oh, of course! I didn't mean that! I just thought it would be -- better. But if you've got something else to do and I'd just be in the way..."

"No," June interrupted quickly, seeing the bright sparkle start to dim in the girl's eyes. "I was just teasing you, silly! I don't have anything else planned until dinner and I'd love to sit and relax while we talk for a while."

"Oh!" The smile and the brightness in Mimsy's eyes returned almost instantly.

"You see?" June said, returning the smile. "I told you. Sometimes your generation and mine just don't understand one another!" She hefted a basket filled with her class materials, dropped her purse on top of it, and started across the clearing and through the little thicket of woods that led to her cabin. She knew it would be empty at that hour -- Pat had a class of her own in another part of the camp and wouldn't be back for at least two hours -- and welcomed the chance of talking with Mimsy in private. She knew that if Pat were going to be in the cabin any conversation between Mimsy and herself would have been impossible. In the first place, she was sure the girl wouldn't feel comfortable about confiding to June in Pat's presence. She'd probably clam up tight and keep whatever was troubling her inside. In the second place, June knew she couldn't predict with any certainty how Pat would react. In the black mood she seemed to be in that morning, anything might be possible. In her anger and bitterness and -- possibly, too -- her jealousy, she might be more careless with her tongue than she would mean to be and say something in a sarcastic crack that would let Mimsy know what the situation was between them. The last thing June wanted was for anyone at the camp to know that she and Pat had once been lovers.

To June's way of thinking, the whole involvement with Pat had been a regrettable situation which never should have been started in the first place and which now, fortunately, seemed to be finally ending. She knew that after last night she wanted nothing more to do with Pat, either as a sexual lover or as a friend. She'd been stunned by the display of cruelty Pat had shown and the ruthless use of blackmail to force her into submission.

When Pat left the cabin to go to breakfast, the two girls had spoken no more than two words to each other, and those had been unintentional on both parts. Bumping into each other by accident, one had muttered, "Sorry," and the other, "Okay." Both girls had deeply regretted even that much personal contact. As soon as Pat was gone, June had frantically searched through her belongings for the letters she'd written her the previous year. Although she went through everything Pat had in the cabin, there were no letters to be found. June reasoned that either Pat had lied about keeping the letters and they no longer existed, or she had kept them home with her other packed, things from college. In either case, she thought with relief, there was no immediate danger of having Pat send any of those damning letters to Gary or her parents.

Unless, she suddenly thought as she made her way to the lodge for breakfast, Pat had hidden the letters in some secret place June didn't know about. As the danger of being exposed as a lesbian to those she loved most in the world reasserted itself, she felt an icy chill run down her spine and for a second it seemed as though her legs were going to buckle under her. She stopped and caught her breath, but as she continued toward the lodge her footsteps were a bit heavier than they'd been only moments before. She realized that all she could do was hope -- if not pray -- Pat would never do anything with the love letters if they still existed.

"Oh this is lovely, June!" Mimsy exclaimed, as she opened the door of the cabin and stepped inside behind June.

"It's a dump!" June laughed. "The only thing it lacks is a trapdoor and a dungeon!"

"It's not bad at all," Mimsy insisted. "It's sure a lot better than the cabin where we sleep!"

"You'd better not spread that around," June chuckled, "or Mrs. Marchant might be in big trouble with your parents. For the price she charges your parents to send you girls up here for the summer, she wants them to think you're all living in the lap of luxury. They might not like it if they found out the 'help' lives better than you do!"

"I'll keep it a secret!" Mimsy giggled.

"Drop that sack down over there by the window," June said. "You're going to have muscles like Popeye if you stand around holding it much longer."

Mimsy quickly obeyed and put the sack down on the floor. Then, seeming suddenly nervous, she dropped her head and looked down at her nervously tapping foot. She seemed to be withdrawing into herself once again, as she had during the class and immediately afterwards, before she and June had begun to talk.

"Why don't you sit down?" June suggested. As Mimsy crossed the room toward a straight-backed, wooden chair, she quickly shook her hand to stop her. "Not there, honey! That's got to be the second most uncomfortable chair in the whole world! That one," she said, nodding toward a second chair in the other corner, "is number one!"

"Where should I sit, then?" Mimsy asked in a soft murmur.

"On the bed, of course! The one on the left's mine. Just settle down and make yourself comfortable."

As the girl crossed the room to June's bed, she seemed hesitant about sitting down on it, in the way a guest with black grease all over his clothes would feel reluctant to sit down on his hostess's fine antique furniture. Her eyes darted back and forth from June's face to the bed as she sat down on the very edge of it, her back stiff and her body rigid. She seemed almost afraid of making herself too comfortable.

"It's not that hard, is it?" June laughed, glancing at the girl's strange posture. "I know it sometimes feels like it's made of bricks when I'm sleeping on it, but I didn't know it felt like that to sit, too!"

"Oh, no! No! It's fine!" Mimsy insisted. "It's a very comfortable bed."

"Yes, I can tell by the way you're sitting on it!" June mocked. "For Pete's sake, you're not going to break the springs if you make yourself comfortable! Kick your shoes off; put your feet up! Relax a little bit." She suspected the girl was nervous being in the counselors' cabin, with its atmosphere of authority and the reminder that they were not really equals, for all Mimsy's earlier protestations to the contrary. She wanted to dispel that atmosphere as quickly as possible and make the girl feel at her ease. She welcomed the thought of having a close friend for the summer among the girls. Mimsy was a bright, intelligent young woman; it would be interesting to get to know her better. With Pat behaving as she was and making things so difficult, June knew she had better look elsewhere for a summer friend. She had hopes that Mimsy would prove to be that friend. Someone she could talk to -- about Gary, her family, her worries about her future once she graduated from college, anything that two friends talk about. It would make the coming months pass so much more nicely, she thought, having a friend like that.

"That's much better!" she smiled, as she watched the girl finally break down and settle herself comfortably at the foot of the bed. "Why don't you grab that pillow and put it behind your back, too? I'll use the one on Pat's bed. She'll never know, if I fluff it up again before she gets back!" They giggled together, already starting to share friend-type confidences.

"Now I'm afraid I might be going to shock you a little," June warned with a little chuckle, as she opened the drawer on the table between the two beds and took out a pack of cigarettes. "I know Mrs. Marchant likes to have you girls think your Big Sisters are as pure as the driven snow and haven't a bad habit among them, but I've been dying for a smoke all afternoon!" She put the filter tip into her mouth and quickly struck a match to light it. "So now," she murmured as she breathed a thick cloud of smoke up from her lungs, "I guess you've got two secrets on me. My cabin's more comfortable than yours and I'm a nicotine fiend!"

"Then it's only fair if I give you a secret on me," Mimsy smiled. "I've been dying for a smoke for two days!"

"Oh, you poor thing!" June laughed. She fished the cigarette pack back out of the drawer and offered it to the girl. "Mrs. Marchant would have a heart attack if she saw me doing this, but here. Have one, please."

Mimsy reached for the cigarette without hesitation. She put it gratefully into her mouth and inhaled the welcome smoke far into her lungs as soon as June offered her a light. As June had hoped it would, the cigarette being offered and accepted seemed to seal the last bond on their friendship and provide the break-through she'd been searching for to make them equals at last. She could almost see the change in Mimsy as she relaxed completely, accepting June as her friend now.

"Boy, that's good!" she sighed, blowing another puff of smoke through her nostrils.

"It's not, really," June told her, "but I'd be the last one in the world to start giving you a lecture on the evils of smoking. People who live in glass houses, you know."

"I'm glad you're not going to lecture me," Mimsy smiled. "I think it might spoil something if you did."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, it would remind me that you're my counselor, when I want to think of you as my friend."

June felt such a rush of sudden warmth toward the girl run through her that her hand reached as though by instinct to hold Mimsy's and squeeze her fingers in a bond of friendship and affection.

"I'm so glad you said that," she said softly. "Because it's just how I've been hoping you'd feel toward me. I want us to be friends, too."

"Really?" Mimsy's eyes were glistening with an excited brightness.

"Really," June told her, squeezing her hand once again. She was a little surprised by the strength of the grip she found holding her own hand in return. Mimsy hadn't exaggerated at all, she thought, when she said she was small but strong. It wasn't just the power behind the grip, though. June sensed something else in the close touch of their hands together. Some strange little tingle, like electricity, that seemed to be flowing back and forth from Mimsy's body to her own...

"I think this would be a good time for us to have our talk, June," the girl said in a soft murmur, her eyes holding firmly to June's.

"Okay..."

"It's about what happened to me the first night we got here," Mimsy began. "What Roxanne did to me, I mean."

"Oh." As a strangely uncomfortable feeling suddenly settled in her stomach, June moved to pull her hand free of the girl's. Mimsy's fingers tightened in response, refusing the contact to be broken. "What -- uh -- what do you want to talk to me about it?"

"It's -- the way I feel about it. Now, I mean, after I've had two days to think about it."

"It would be better if you would try to forget about it completely," June said gently. "Put it out of your mind and don't think about it at all."

"I've tried to, but I can't. I keep thinking about it all the time."

"Well, that's only natural, I guess," June tried to explain. "You had a terrible shock and it must have been an awful experience for you, but in time..."

"Oh, no!" Mimsy quickly interrupted, squeezing more tightly to June's hand. "That's not what I mean at all. I don't think about the bad part of it; I've gotten over that."

"Then -- what?"

"Well," Mimsy lowered her eyes slightly, "I told you that I'm more grown up than I might look. I know what a lesbian is."

"You do?" June tried once again to pull her hand free and this time the girl's fingers slowly relaxed their pressure and let her. She puffed nervously on her cigarette, her eyes darting anxiously away from direct contact with Mimsy, as she asked, "Just what do you know?"

"I know that a lesbian is a woman who makes love to another woman. Like Roxanne did to me, I mean. With her mouth."

A sharp tingle of excitement shot through June's body as the words registered their image in her mind. She'd suspected what had happened between the two girls, but this was her first confirmation that forcible cunnilingus had been performed on Mimsy by Roxanne. Although she was horrified by the images running through her mind, June could not dispel them. She saw Mimsy spread naked on the ground at night, her legs torn apart, her feminine softness open and vulnerable to Roxanne's ruthless lust. What must she have tasted like, June wondered? Was there much hair around her cunt, to tickle her nose the way Pat's pubic bush always did? Had Roxanne stayed down on the girl and tongued her until she came on her mouth? Was her sexual juice as bitter-tasting as Pat's...?

"What's wrong with me?" her mind suddenly shrieked. "Why am I thinking these things? You'd almost think that -- I wanted her for myself!" A cold shudder ran down her spine as she realized there was more truth in the remark than she cared to admit. She was finding herself sexually drawn to the younger girl, in spite of everything that had happened between Pat and herself in the past two days and all her vows that this part of her life was finished for good. She did want Mimsy. She had wanted her and known it in the darkest part of her mind from the moment their hands had touched together in that tight locking of fingers.

"There's a lot more to being a lesbian than just making love to another woman, Mimsy," she explained softly, still not daring to make direct eye-contact with the girl. "It's a whole way of life. It's as much of a commitment to a life style as it is to get married. To a man, I mean."

"Do you mean that lesbians actually marry each other?" the girl asked in awe.

"Well," June smiled nervously, "I've never heard of it being done legally, but I guess a lot of lesbian women fall in love with each other and want to share their lives together, yes."

"Then there's nothing really wrong with it? I mean, with being a lesbian."

June couldn't help swallowing hard before she answered. She knew the girl had seen her gulp and probably was wondering why her questions were causing such a reaction, but June couldn't control herself. How to answer her, she wondered, without sounding like the biggest hypocrite of all time? How to steer this trusting young girl in the right direction at a crucial turning point in her life, where the wrong decision might ruin every chance of future happiness for her, when all of her own instincts were urging her further and further toward a physical seduction?

June knew very well that a few moments of reckless foolishness on her part might not be interpreted in the same way by the girl. What for her would be nothing more than an experiment to appease a momentary hunger might be for Mimsy the most crucial few minutes of her life. Any latent tendencies toward lesbianism as a sexual way of life might be wakened and roused to full life in an irreversible course. And yet to not respond if Mimsy made an advance might result in drawing the girl deeper into her shell and possibly forcing her into a heterosexual life that she was neither sexually nor emotionally able to deal with. It would be as much a tragedy to insist upon a lesbian way of life for a girl who was basically heterosexual in needs as it would be in the reverse. June had read many case histories in her psychology courses at college of married women with children who couldn't stand the touch of a man, but had submerged their true lesbian emotions and needs in a heterosexual disguise because it was what society demanded of them. She also knew that with the advent of women's liberation and the public confessions by many notable females of a bi-sexual, if not outright lesbian nature, it was becoming less of a public stigma to lead a deviant sex life. In the next ten years or so, many attitudes were going to change and, possibly, one day it might make no difference what a person did in bed. If Mimsy chose a lesbian life style, she might find the world more accepting of her than that world would be for June, today. She knew well enough what damage her letters to Pat would cause in her personal life if they were ever to be revealed. Where she came from and among the people she knew and loved most, sexual liberation still had a long way to go.

"I-I don't know what to say, Mimsy," she admitted at last. "Why do you ask if there's anything wrong with being a lesbian?"

Without blinking an eye, without hesitation for even an instant, the girl answered, "Because I think I'm one."

"What?" She couldn't help her mouth from dropping slightly open. The admission had come as such a shock to her that for a few moments she didn't know how to deal with it and stammered helplessly for words. Then, as though to make the whole idea seem preposterous, she laughed nervously and exclaimed, "Why, I've never heard anything so ridiculous! Just because of one experience..."

"Oh, no!" Mimsy swore, interrupting her. "It's not just that one experience. I've felt this way for a long, long time, but I never did anything about it."

June stubbed out her smoked-down cigarette in the ashtray and reached immediately for another. Her hands were trembling slightly as she held a lit match to the end of her smoke, billowing a thick cloud out from her nostrils the instant the cigarette was lit.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked softly. "What do you mean, you've felt this way for a long time?"

"I have," the girl insisted. "But there was never anyone I could talk to about it. Like I told you before, my mother would faint if I even mentioned the subject to her. I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't even know what a lesbian is!"

"Why do you feel you can talk to me, then?" June asked with hesitation.

"Well -- because you know about what happened to me," she explained. "I don't think I'd ever have dared bring the subject up, even with you, if you didn't already know what Roxanne did to me."

"I see," June murmured with relief. Apparently she was still playing the role of Big Sister in the girl's mind and Mimsy had no real suspicions about June's own sex life, as she'd feared at first. "I'm sorry for interrupting; please go on -- if you want to."

"I do, June," the girl said earnestly. "I really want to talk to you about how I feel, because I think you'll understand."

"All right," she answered with a little gulp. "I'll try to, anyway."

"Well, these feelings, I'm talking about -- I've had them for a long time. I mean, I'd look at some of the girls in school when we got undressed for gym class and I'd feel this funny kind of tingle running all through me. Like I wanted to reach out and -- touch them, I guess."

"Do you mean touch in a sexual way?"

"No, not at first. I didn't even think about the sex side of it at first. I just wanted to touch those other girls. Touch their skin. Run my hands over their breasts and feel their nipples. Put my fingers between their legs and feel if their hair down there was as soft as mine. Not to start anything sexual, but just to feel them. It's hard to explain, but do you know what I mean?"

"I -- think so..."

"It was just wanting to make contact with them, I guess. To just touch them and say, 'Feel me, too. We're both beautiful, so why don't we enjoy each other's body?'. Like that."

June couldn't help smiling. The girl's declaration of her own beauty had come so naturally, so innocently as a simple statement of fact, that she couldn't be faulted in the least for vanity. It was the truth. She was beautiful. Almost breathtakingly so, June thought; especially with the sunlight streaming through the window behind her like that and sending off sparks of brightness from the blonde of her curly hair. The light formed a sort of halo around her head, making her face seem even more angelic.

"Why are you smiling at me?" she asked. "Am I making a fool of myself?"

"No, of course not," June insisted. "I was just thinking how easily you said you're beautiful and how nice it was that you didn't sound like you were in love with yourself when you said it. It's true, of course, but a lot of beautiful girls spoil their looks by their vanity."

"Do you really think I'm beautiful, June?" she murmured.

"Yes, I do."

"I think you're beautiful, too. You're the most beautiful girl in the whole camp."

Even as the words were coming from Mimsy's lips, June could see the danger lights starting to flash bright red in her mind. It seemed her suspicions of a few minutes ago were coming true. The girl was going to force her into a situation where she had to make a choice. And yet, even knowing this, she couldn't bring herself to end the conversation at that point and divert the matter entirely. She was flattered that the girl found her as attractive as she found Mimsy herself. Flattered and, she had to admit, sexually excited at the thought that she could have the girl in bed if she wanted her.

"When I was in school," Mimsy continued, "there was an older girl in the senior class who looked so much like you. I always thought she was so beautiful. She was the one I wanted most to touch, but I never had the nerve to even speak to her. I used to watch her when we had gym class together and when she undressed I used to get such strong feelings inside my stomach that it almost made me throw up. I realized after a while that it was because I-I wanted her. I mean, I wanted to do to her what Roxanne did to me the other night. I wanted to make love to her with my mouth."

"But you never did?"

"No! Of course not!" Mimsy laughed. "I wouldn't have dared even suggest it! I was so naive that I thought I'd invented such a thing all by myself! I thought that nobody else in the world had ever thought of such a thing but me! A while later, after that girl had graduated and it was too late to do anything, I found out that there were lots of women who did just what I dreamed of doing. I even found out there were some lesbians right in school. Not just the kids, I mean, but even two of the teachers."

"Did you ever do anything with any of those girls -- or the teachers?" June asked.

"Lord, no!" she exclaimed. "But it wasn't because I was afraid or didn't know what I wanted to do. A couple of them even asked me straight out if I wanted to have some fun with them. There was a little club of girls who used to get together for what they called 'slumber parties', but they were really sex orgies. All five or six of them would get into one bed and do everything to each other all at the same time."

Once again, June felt tingles of sexual excitement run through her as the vision took shape in her mind of a bed full of pretty, young, teenaged girls all using their mouths on each other. She could almost hear the groans and sighs and creaking of springs and smacking of lips on breasts and tongues between parted thighs. She puffed restlessly on her cigarette as she felt her own sexual hungers growing uncontrollably within herself. It was all she could do now to keep from reaching out and putting her hands on Mimsy's body. Touching her all over, in the way the girl herself had just explained she wanted to do with those others. June understood all too well what Mimsy was saying, for she shared exactly the same emotions even at that moment.

"You never went to any of those 'slumber parties' did you?"

"No!" Mimsy giggled. "I heard plenty about them from the girls who did, though. I guess they were trying to get me excited by telling me all the details of what they did, so the next time they had one I'd join them. But I never did. They didn't turn me on. They were like Roxanne; not my type. I don't think I'd have minded half so much what happened the other night, June," she murmured, "if it had been you instead of Roxanne."

June gulped hard and turned her head away, "Mimsy, what a thing to say."

"It's true, though. I wouldn't have minded at all. I think it would have been -- wonderful."

"Stop. Please," June whispered.

"Why?" the girl asked softly. "Is it wrong for me to tell you how much I feel for you?"

She took a deep breath first, then shook her head slowly from side to side. "No, it's not wrong."

"Then why don't you want me to say anything more?"

"Because if you do," June whispered, "I won't be able to control myself any longer. I'm having a hard enough time of it right now."

"Oh, June!" the girl exclaimed. "Do you mean you feel the same way? About me?" Her eyes eagerly searched June's face for an answer and found it in the two tiny tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. "Oh, it's wonderful! June! I can't believe it's true!"

Before she knew what was happening, June found herself holding the girl in her arms, with Mimsy's embrace squeezing her so tightly it made her gasp for breath. She held herself back as long as she could, then gave in to the needs that were tearing her insides apart.

"Darling! Oh, my precious darling!" she cried, clinging as tightly to the girl as she was being held in return. "My angel! My wonderful, beautiful, blonde angel!"

"If I'm that to you, then you're the same thing to me," Mimsy insisted. Her hands moved slowly up and down June's blouse, feeling the warmth and slight dampness of her flesh through the thin cloth. "I love touching you like this," she purred. "It feels so wonderful just holding you and having you hold me back. I've never felt so close to anyone in all my life."

In the depths of herself, in that part of her where judgment and better sense lay, June knew she was getting into water over her head. It was turning out to be more serious than she'd feared, but she could not stop herself now. There was no turning back. Not with that beautiful young creature already in her arms, begging to be loved.

"Kiss me," she whispered. "Please, Mimsy? Kiss me before I burst out crying."

Instantly the girl's lips were pressing flush to hers. The softness of them was almost painful to June as she rubbed her mouth against Mimsy's and coaxed those pretty pink lips to part for her tongue. When they came slowly open and her tongue rushed inside, she was startled by the passionate fury of the girl's own tongue as it answered and returned the kiss.

"Love you... love you... love you," Mimsy sobbed over and over again, her words thick and almost incomprehensible through the emotion choking her throat. Her hand moved slowly around June's body and dropped lightly onto her lap. For a second it seemed they dared not move any further or grow any bolder until a signal was given that it would be all right. Knowing exactly what she was doing -- and why -- June gave her that signal by dropping her own hand into Mimsy's lap and cupping her fingers flush with the warm seat of her shorts.

"Oh, yes! Yes, June!" the girl sighed happily. "Touch me there! I want you to! And I want to touch you there, too, but not with your clothes on. I want us to be naked together on your bed. I... I... June...?"

"Yes?"

"I want us to make love to each other." Her eyes held June's for a long moment, seeing the same bright excitement staring back at her. "Please?" she whispered.

"Yes, darling! Yes! Anything you want!"

They kissed again, long and furiously, then came apart to quickly strip off their clothes. As she undressed, her eyes not leaving Mimsy's body for an instant and finding her own body being studied by the girl just as closely in return, June could feel her nipples growing thick and hard with the mounting excitement running through her. Between her legs it felt like a fire was raging out of control. A fire that only the wet slurping of Mimsy's tongue could extinguish.

"She's so beautiful!" June thought, as the girl's breasts were exposed and her hands moved to take down her shorts. "So young and innocent, but so wise, too. She wants this to happen as much as I do. Maybe even more, if that's possible."

"You're beautiful!" the girl exclaimed, as she dropped her shorts over the edge of the bed and faced. June as naked as she was herself.

"That's funny; I was just thinking the same thing about you!"

"It's true, though. Your body is so beautiful, June. I want to hold you and touch you all over."

"Please. Do."

They moved into each other's arms and as they kissed, they stretched their bodies out side-by-side along the length of the bed. Mimsy's arms clung tightly around June's ribs as their tongues darted in and out of one another's mouths and their knees rubbed slowly and gently against the slightly damp, warm thatches of fur between their legs. When June's hand slid down to Mimsy's thighs and then between them, she was surprised by how little pubic hair she had around her cunt. It was almost like touching a girl who'd just begun to go through the changes of puberty and whose body was not yet fully a woman's. Somehow, that made touching the girl all the more exciting. June's desire was tightening like a knot in her throat, and she knew that in a few more minutes she would be unable to control herself or hold back from doing what she'd wanted to do since the moment the notion entered her mind. She could feel the saliva gathering already inside her mouth and when her tongue fluttered across Mimsy's, she imagined it was the taste of the girl's other open hole she was tasting and exploring.

"I want you so much!" she whispered hotly.

"Take me, June!" came the urgent reply. "I'm all yours! You can do anything you want to with me!"

It was all the invitation June needed. Her intense hunger broke through the last of her reserves and, pulling herself free of the girl's embrace, she began to kiss her way slowly down Mimsy's body. The girl's heartbeat pounded heavily in her chest as June's mouth fluttered over her chest, licking slowly and sensuously up and down the slopes of both breasts in turn, then sucking each nipple deeply into her mouth and lashing at them with her tongue until they were so stiff with excitement it felt like they were going to pop right off the girl's tits if June sucked them any more.

Lower her mouth moved, and lower still. Down onto the sleek, satin-smooth belly with its skin like finest white satin. Her tongue stroked in lazy circles, moving steadily downward. Onto the broad bones of her hips, the tension in her thighs. She could smell the fragrant scent of the younger girl's cunt now, as the excitement running through Mimsy caused her juices to flow and leave their intoxicating aroma between her legs as the sweet syrup dribbled slowly from her hole and matted the light bush of fur surrounding the entrance.

How different this was from the dreadful encounter with Pat the previous night, June thought. It was the same thing she was going to do, but how changed were her feelings toward it. There was love in it this time, she told herself. Love -- and a hungering need that could not be denied. She wanted to do this to the girl even more than she wanted it done to herself by Mimsy. She wanted to return the girl's intense love with a physical loving to match it. She wanted to show her how wonderful it could be when two girls came together in love.

"Darling!" she whispered, as her mouth fluttered above the gaping pink cunt. Her eyes sparkled as she quickly scanned the girl's raw beauty. She felt excitement beating through her like a pounding drum as she studied the down of blonde hair around the hole and the tantalizing pink meat she could glimpse inside it.

"I'm going to lick her down there!" she thought dizzily. "I'm going to push my tongue inside that beautiful young cunt! I'm going to taste her! Eat her! Oh, God! How much I want her to come on my tongue and let me drink her!"

"Please..." Mimsy moaned softly, pressing ever-so-gently on the top of June's head. The sigh had barely left her lips before a cry of intense pleasure broke from her throat, as the older girl's mouth touched down against the warm, damp softness at last and began to lick her tongue's way inside.

Holding Mimsy firmly by both thighs, June spread the girl's legs a little further apart to give herself more room to get closer, then burrowed her face up into the fuzzy pink-lipped cunt and began to lick it like a hungry child with an ice cream cone. Her tongue fluttered in and out of the tight slit, making wet smacking noises as she tasted the goodness of it. Her passion became wilder with each lick.

"Eating you! Tasting you! Licking you!" her mind cried, as her tongue drove deeper and deeper, licking again and again and again at the sweet-tasting young cunt. She could feel the outer lips of Mimsy's cunt spreading wider and wider apart for her, as the urgency of the girl's need rose in direct proportion to June's loving tongue's frantic slurping. She felt the tension growing stronger in her legs, too, as she arched herself toward orgasm. Her face burrowed closer and closer, her tongue shoved as high into the hole as it would go.

Suddenly, with no warning cry or even a springing forward of her body, Mimsy began to come. Her thighs squeezed in around June's face and held her locked tightly in place as a thick flow of juice began to dribble from the depths of her cunt and all over the older girl's still-licking tongue.

Startled for a moment, June quickly recovered herself and shoved her hand between her own legs. As she lapped the sweet cream from Mimsy's cunt, her fingers worked skillfully and quickly to bring herself to orgasm. It didn't take long. Her excitement was at too high a pitch, especially with her mouth still pressed flush to that beautiful young cunt and her tongue still drawing its syrup into her throat to be swallowed and tasted. She felt her own cream dripping from her cunt and running down the insides of her legs. It was one of the most violent and prolonged orgasms June had ever experienced.

When at last the younger girl had stopped coming and her body was starting to relax, June drew her mouth away from the sopping cunt with one final lick for good measure. She looked up at Mimsy's face and saw the glow of radiant happiness beaming from her eyes.

"That was wonderful, darling," she whispered. "I didn't realize it could be like that. I hated to see it end."

"Me, too," Mimsy swore. "But it's not over yet. Now I..." Her eyes darted quickly to June's face as her hand reached between her legs and felt the stickiness that had run down them from her cunt. "Oh," she groaned in disappointment. "I didn't know you'd come already."

"I couldn't help myself," June said with a touch of embarrassment. "I was too excited when you started to come all over my tongue." And, she knew with a disappointment of her own, she hadn't expected Mimsy to want to return the favor, once she'd had her own orgasm. She wished now that she'd waited and not been so quick to rush toward climax.

"You're going to think this is terrible of me," the girl confessed, "but I have to ask you anyway."

"What is it?" June smiled. "I doubt you could say anything I'd think was terrible."

"I-I want to lick it off your thighs," Mimsy whispered. "Your cum, I mean. I want to use my tongue to clean you off."

Such a sharp thrill of excitement soared through June that she couldn't even speak for a few moments. She just lay alongside Mimsy and stared at her with love blazing from her eyes like beacons of light.

"You know," she murmured at last, "I've just thought of something. Didn't you say you were having your period?"

"Yes," Mimsy said with a devilish grin.

"But -- there was no blood..."

"Actually," she confessed, "I had my period last week, but I thought I'd take advantage of it while I could."

"You mean you lied about it, to get out of swimming class?" June asked in astonishment.

"Uh-huh," Mimsy giggled. "So I could be with you."

"You aren't trying to tell me you planned all this in advance, are you?"

Mimsy looked guiltily away and covered her mouth to keep from bursting out in laughter. "Well, maybe a little bit..." she admitted.

"Darling," June sighed, "you're too wonderful to be real. I think I must have dreamed you."

"It's because I love you, June," the girl vowed, and from the look in her eyes June could tell at a glance that it was true. "I think I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you. It was only three days ago, but it feels I've known -- and loved -- you all my life."

"Shhhhhh!" June insisted. "Don't say things you might be sorry for later."

"I won't be sorry. I'll mean it as much tomorrow as I mean it right now. I love you. With all my heart. More than I've ever loved anyone else in my life. That's why I wanted so much to make love to you, like you did to me. You've got to promise never again to do that to yourself with your fingers when you're with me. It's all right this time, but next, time I want to make you come."

"Next time..." June thought, as the girl moved out of her embrace and began to lick her way down her body. As she felt Mimsy's curly blonde hair brushing across her thighs, then felt her mouth starting to lick up the dribbled cum that had run out of her hole during her orgasm, she realized that she hadn't even given a thought to any "next time" until that moment.

"Oooohhhhhhhhh!" she groaned, as a sharp tingle of excitement ran through her from the wet touch of Mimsy's tongue directly on the opening of her crack.

"Next time..." she thought again. The way the girl was making her feel right then, there would almost certainly have to be a next time. But June knew, too, she would want to see how she felt about it all in the morning, before making any definite commitments one way or the other.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The woods were dark at night and Pat couldn't help stumbling every few feet over concealed tree roots and other undergrowth in her path as she made her way from the cabin toward a prearranged meeting place with Roxanne down near the lake. "Damn her!" she muttered angrily, as she stopped to rub a sore toe she'd just stubbed on a hidden rock. "This better be as important as she says it is, or there'll be one spoiled little bitch found floating in the lake tomorrow morning!"

Earlier that evening, when all the counselors and their girls had assembled at the lodge for the dinner meal, Roxanne had maneuvered her way into the chow line so that she stood directly behind Pat and was able to whisper to her without any of the other girls around them overhearing.

"I've got to see you tonight," the girl hissed, giving Pat a little poke in the back with her finger. "It's important."

Pat slowly turned her head and gave the girl a long, withering look. "Forget it," she rasped, then turned her head away.

"Listen, I said this is important! You'd better meet me tonight, or you'll regret it!"

Pat once again turned her head to look at the girl. This time there was fire dancing angrily in her eyes. "Now you listen, you miserable little bitch!" she hissed. "You're not blackmailing me any more. I don't want to have anything to do with you again, do you get that? And if that makes you want to go to Mrs. Marchant and tell her what you know about me, go right ahead. Be my guest. As a matter of fact, she's sitting right over there at that table. Why don't I take you over and introduce you to her right now, so you won't waste any time? Huh? Come on!"

"Pat, please!" the girl exclaimed, trying to pull her arm free of her hand as she tried to pull her out of the chow line and drag her, if necessary, across the room to the camp's owner's table. "You're making a scene! Everyone's starting to look at us!"

"Don't you want to go? Don't you want to tell her something?"

"No!" Roxanne cried, and there were tears of fear beginning to glisten in the corners of her eyes.

"Are you sure about that? Because if you don't go now, you'll never be able to threaten me with going to her in the future. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes," the girl gulped, nodding her head slowly up and down.

"All right." Pat pulled her hand away from Roxanne's arm as though it was something unclean and crawling with lice. "Now don't you ever get in my way again for the rest of the summer. Understand me? Don't even cross my path."

"Pat..."

"I don't want to speak to you, I don't want you to speak to me, I don't want to see you except when it's absolutely necessary, I don't want..."

"Pat, please!" Roxanne cried, clinging frantically to her arm. "Will you just listen to me a minute? I wasn't trying to blackmail you again. Honest I wasn't."

"Like hell!" she snorted.

"What I wanted to see you about has nothing to do with that. It's something different. Something important that you should know about."

"Yeah? What?" Pat grunted.

Roxanne's eyes darted nervously up and down the chow line, then back to Pat's stern face. "I can't tell you now. I know -- I know that sounds corny and contrived, but I can't. Not here, with all these people around. There's no telling what you might do..."

"What I might do? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I said I can't tell you here. I'll have to meet you somewhere later, after the others have gone to sleep. Somewhere private. Maybe down by the lake..."

"Now look," Pat warned, "if this is another one of your little tricks..."

"It's not a trick! I swear it!"

Pat's eyes stared at the girl for several agonizingly long moments before she spoke, searching her face for even the slightest hint that she was lying or planning another trap to force Pat into having sex with her again. Either she was telling the truth, she finally decided, or the girl was a more skilled liar than she'd given her credit for being.

"All right," she rasped, her voice a low growl of words, "there's a place down by the lake. To the left, away from the lodge. They call it 'Indian Lookout', because of the rock pile."

"Yes, I know the place," Roxanne nodded.

"I'll meet you there at eleven o'clock. And you'd better be on time."

"I will," the girl promised.

Pat's hand suddenly reached out and caught her again by the arm, squeezing so tightly she made the girl grimace. "I'm just warning you, though, bitch, that if this does turn out to be one of your stunts, it's going to cost your Mommy and Daddy an arm and a leg to pay for a plastic surgeon to put your face back together after I get done rearranging it! Get me?"

"Yes," Roxanne nodded fearfully. "I get you."

Pat half-expected the girl not to be there when she came out of the woods at last and stepped into the little clearing that led down to the lake and the pile of rocks that had been called "Indian Lookout" by two decades of Summer Sisters campers. She had to blink her eyes to adjust them to the sudden change from the darkness of the woods to the startling brightness of moonlight reflected on the wide surface of the lake. Glancing around, she saw nothing at first. Then a slight movement from the rocks caught her eyes and she moved quickly toward them.

"Pat?" came a fearful whisper.

"No, it's Jack the Ripper," she snorted. "Of course it's me; who else were you expecting?"

"I didn't know if anyone followed me or not," Roxanne explained, as she stepped out of her hiding place behind one of the large, flat-surfaced rocks.

"Didn't you make sure no one saw you?" Pat snapped angrily. "I thought you'd have the common sense to be careful."

"I was, but you never know. Anyway, it's you, so there's nothing to worry about."

"That's what you think!" Pat cracked. "I haven't heard your story yet."

"There's plenty of time for that," Roxanne smiled. "Why don't you climb up here on this rock with me and we'll talk for a while? About... other things, I mean."

"I'm warning you..."

"Oh, come on!" the girl murmured. "You're grouchy as an old bear tonight. You were much more friendly to me the last time we were alone together."

"Can that crap!" Pat snapped, as she sprang up onto the rock and towered over the kneeling girl with both hands clenched into fists at her sides. "What's this hot information you had to tell me?"

"I don't think I'm going to tell you after all," Roxanne pouted, affecting a little-girl voice as she turned away from Pat. "Not after the nasty way you've been treating me all night. Telling me at dinner that you never wanted to see me or speak to me or..."

"Listen, you!" Pat snarled, grabbing hold of the girl's shoulder and spinning her roughly around. The turn was so sudden and caught Roxanne so off-balance that she fell backwards and dropped hard onto her behind. Her eyes blinked with pain as Pat moved toward her. "I warned you, didn't I, what I'd do to you if this was a trick?"

"Go ahead and beat me up, if you want to, but it won't make me tell what I know!" Roxanne cried. "And it's not a trick. You're going to be very, very sorry you treated me like this tonight, Pat."

There was something in the tone of the girl's voice that frightened Pat into believing she was telling the truth. Whatever information she knew must be of importance to Pat -- but what it could be about she hadn't the vaguest notion.

"All right," she muttered, dropping down to squat alongside Roxanne, "I'm sorry. Maybe I have been a little rougher on you than I should, but don't you think you've given me good reason to suspect you? I've been through all this once before, remember."

"You hurt me," Roxanne sobbed, turning her head away. "And you hurt my feelings, too. I don't see why I should tell you anything after that."

"Is it really important, Roxanne? Something I really should know?"

"Well of course it is!" the girl snapped, her voice instantly changed from the tearful, injured child to the bitchy almost-woman. "Do you think I'd be making a fuss like this if it wasn't?"

"Then why don't you tell me what it is, and stop all this childish nonsense?"

"Not until you make up to me," Roxanne pouted.

"How...?"

"You know how!" Her head turned quickly to face Pat and her eyes were shining with unconcealed lust. "Don't you?"

Slowly, feeling the rage of frustration creeping through her once again from being outwitted by this teenage conniver, Pat nodded her head up and down. "Sure," she muttered. "I know."

In her heart and in her mind, she guessed she always knew it would come down to this. Roxanne was far too clever to give away something for nothing. Although Pat didn't know what the "something" was, she had a very clear idea of what she'd have to do to find out. In a way, she thought, maybe it was part of the reason why she'd agreed to the meeting in the first place. Maybe she wanted Roxanne to outsmart her a second time and force her into having sex. It had been several days since Pat last had gratified her hunger for the taste of cunt and she could not deny that the need inside her was almost unbearable. Maybe, she thought, this really was a sort of little game, and she had played her part in it as skillfully as Roxanne had done with hers.

"Good," the girl purred, as a broad smile crept across her face. "Then we won't have to waste any more time by me telling you."

"Where do you want me to do it to you?" Pat growled.

"Between my legs, of course!"

"I didn't mean that and you know it. Do you want me to do it right here on the rock?"

"On the rock!" Roxanne giggled. "Hmmmmmm! I've done it in lots of crazy places, but never on a rock before! But why not? Yes, I want you to eat me right here! On the rock!"

"Thanks," Pat muttered. "That'll do my knees a helluva lot of good."

"You can kneel on our clothes, silly!" the girl giggled.

"You mean we've got to undress for this?"

"Sure! Do you think I'm going to miss the opportunity of being stark naked under the moonlight for the first time I get my pussy eaten on a rock? Honestly! You've got no sense of theatre, Pat. So boring, really."

"You know," Pat told her, "a person could get to really hate you, Roxanne. Not just dislike you and not even just detest you, but way-down, gut-deep hate you."

"They say hate is only one expression of love," she smiled.

"They're full of shit!" Pat got up and started to open her blouse. "Well, come on. If I've got to go through with this, let's get it over with as quickly as possible."

"It won't be that quick," Roxanne teased, rolling the end of her tongue slowly over her bottom lip. "I've masturbated five times today, so it's going to take a lot of work for you to bring me off again. I might even take a little snooze while you're working on me. In case I get bored, I mean."

"And you just might find yourself taking that snooze at the bottom of the lake, if you don't watch yourself," Pat threatened. "I can only be pushed so far, you know. Even by you."

"I've heard that said before," Roxanne laughed. "But it usually turns out the people who say they can't be pushed any further can be pulled further."

"I wouldn't try it if I were you."

Once again, Pat found herself with two very different emotions at war inside her. On the one hand, she hated Roxanne for the power she had over her and the ruthless way she used it. She knew, even before anything happened, even as they were both still undressing, that Roxanne wouldn't make the slightest move toward satisfying her body. Pat's fulfillment would have to be her own concern; the girl was interested only in using Pat to get her own satisfaction. On the other hand, however, all this was also very exciting to her. She felt strange chills of emotion running through her body as she watched Roxanne taking off her clothes, knowing that soon she would be forced to put her mouth between those sleek young legs and use her tongue between that hairy bush until she'd coaxed the juice of orgasm from the girl's cunt. It was the oddly sexual and very unexplainable thrill of being someone's slave that excited Pat's lust. Any slave will feel a degree of hatred toward his master or mistress, for hate is bought at the cost of one's freedom. But the bonds that hold one person to another body and soul can be emotional as well as physical, and these are the marks of the strongest slavery and cause for the greatest hatred.

"Well?" she muttered, when at last she and the girl were stark naked on the rock. Their bodies glistened in the moonlight, the hair between their legs shining like tangled strands of silk. Pat could feel her throat going dry and her nipples starting to harden with lust as she stared at the ripe young flesh she would soon be doing her best to satisfy. "Aren't you going to lay down?"

Roxanne quickly shook her head. "No. I've decided it's too cold to lay on the rock without a blanket. I'm going to stand up and let you kneel in front of me while you eat me."

"How nice," Pat cracked. "And would you like to rest a book on top of my head, too, so you could read in case you get bored?"

"Did you bring one with you?" Roxanne answered right back. "I wish I'd thought of it. Next time I will."

"Honey, there's not gonna be no next time!" Pat growled.

Without changing her smile for an instant, Roxanne murmured, "Don't be too sure of that." She rippled her fingers slowly down the front of her body, hefting both breasts and pointing them down at Pat's face, then slipped her hand between her legs and widened her stance. As she began to rub her fingers slowly back and forth on her cunt, a glistening sheen began to sparkle on her skin and run through her fingers as a trickle of excitement dribbled from her hole. "You like to watch me do this, don't you?" she whispered softly.

Pat's eyes darted up to meet the girl's, then looked away in embarrassment from the mocking smile she found on her face. It was true, and they both knew it.

"You do like to watch me play with myself," Roxanne chuckled wickedly. "I'll bet right now you're wondering how I had time to do it five times today without getting caught. I'll bet you're imagining how it looked, with my fingers stuck right up this cunt you're looking at and working it until I made myself cream all over my hand. Hmmmmm?" she purred. "Aren't you thinking something like that, Big Sister?"

Pat gulped hard and nodded her head in shame. Her lust had been instantly aroused when the girl mentioned how many times she'd masturbated. Lately, that had been Pat's only source of pleasure, too, and she found it very exciting to imagine other girls doing it to themselves. Especially if the girl was as young and beautiful and well-built as Roxanne, no matter what her personality.

"Do it for me," she found herself whispering. "Please? Let me watch you use your fingers on yourself."

"Oh, no!" Roxanne laughed sharply. "I know what you're trying to do! You think if you talk me into masturbating myself up to a climax it'll make your job easier! Nothing doing! I want your tongue to bring me off, Big Sister!"

"I will!" Pat promised. "I swear I will; I'll do anything you want me to. But just -- just play with yourself in front of me for a little while. Just -- let me watch. Pretend I'm not even here and that you're doing it to yourself all alone."

Roxanne's eyes sparkled with devilish mischief as she stared down into Pat's tormented face. "You really do get off on watching me do it, don't you? I mean, this idea's really turning you on! Any minute now I expect to see you start panting and sitting up on your hind legs!"

"If that's what you want me to do, I'll do it!" Pat swore. "But please... do me just this one small favor. Let me watch."

"Sure," Roxanne shrugged. "Why not? It might be a kick at that. But why don't you get a ringside seat, Big Sister? Why sit all the way over there? Come on over here and lay down between my legs. That way you can look right up into heaven!"

Hating herself for how much of her sexual need she was revealing, Pat scrambled across the rock and lay down with her hand directly in under the young girl's spread legs. Supporting herself on an elbow, she tilted back her head and gasped aloud in astonishment at what she saw. She'd never looked at another girl's cunt from that angle before and the view, seen for the first time, was so breathtaking it almost made her heart skip a beat. That great, gaping hole with its dark, meaty lips that reached almost to the darker button of the girl's ass. The pile of fur spread around both sides of the cunt like a hairy collar or a bearded man's mouth. When Roxanne flexed her inner muscles and the lips of her cunt parted slightly, Pat could even see up into the darkness of the juicy tunnel itself. She gulped hard as she stared at Roxanne's pulsing clitoris, quivering as it hardened with excitement.

"Like the view?" the girl asked.

"Yes!" came the panted reply. "Please... now... put your fingers in there... let me watch..."

"Anything for my Big Sister!" Roxanne laughed.

Reaching down between her legs with both hands, she spread apart the lips of her cunt and opened her hole wide above Pat's face. She wriggled the tip of her right middle finger between the spongy lips and began to press it into the hole.

"Can you see? Are you watching it go in?"

"Yes! Oh, God! Yessssssss!" Pat hissed. Her own hand strayed instinctively down to her cunt and began to repeat everything she saw the younger girl doing directly over her face and eagerly gaping eyes. She moaned softly in her throat, as much from the pleasure of what she was doing to herself as from watching Roxanne do it at the same time. As the girl's finger pressed deeper and deeper into her juicy slit, so Pat's finger slipped the same depth into her own cunt. When Roxanne used her other hand to spread herself wider open, so did Pat, and when the girl began to wriggle two more fingers in after the first, Pat's hand was eager to follow suit.

"That's right!" Roxanne chuckled, looking down and seeing what Pat was doing to herself. "You do it too, Big Sister. Make yourself feel what I'm feeling. Pretend you're doing it to me."

Pat gulped down what felt like a tennis ball wedged in her throat. Roxanne's words had exactly expressed her very thoughts at that instant. She was imagining her fingers were working in and out of the girl's cunt instead of her own. The sensation she felt between her legs was only secondary to the extreme pleasure her fantasies were shooting through her every nerve. That beautiful young cunt suspended right over her face was driving her crazy. She was no longer content just to watch Roxanne play with herself. Pat wanted to do it for her now. And more. Her mouth ached for the taste of the sweet juice she could pull from that hairy, pretty little hole.

"Oh, no!" the girl laughed, as Pat suddenly lifted herself up and tried to press her mouth against the oozing cunt. "I've changed my mind. I think it'll be more fun to masturbate and make you watch me come, without letting you put a finger on me. It'll serve you right for saying at dinner that you didn't want to have anything to do with me. I'll make your wish come true, and won't you be sorry!"

Once again, Pat was struck to her very core by the depths of the girl's cruelty. She knew very well how worked up she'd made Pat, and knew also that the worst punishment she could inflict on her would be to deny her now what she'd resented being forced upon her only minutes earlier. To make Pat satisfy her with her mouth and tongue now that she'd worked her up to this feverish pitch would be giving her more satisfaction than Roxanne cared to offer. Making her watch what she couldn't have was far more cruel, and also intensely exciting in its sadism.

"That's right!" Roxanne laughed, spreading her cunt wide open with both hands and squatting lower toward Pat's face so she could torment her with a full view of all she couldn't touch. "Just look at it! Look up that juicy young pussy and see what your tongue could have tasted, if only you hadn't been such a mean bitch a little while ago. You didn't want to do it at first, but now you're aching to. And I won't let you! You're just going to watch, Big Sister, and eat your heart out instead of me!"

Pat moaned as though in pain as she watched the girl's fingers slip back into the wet hole and begin to work in and out of it with the skilled precision of much practice. She could see the glisten of cunt juice on the girl's fingers as she pulled them almost all the way out, and heard a little popping sound when she plunged them back into the hole. Her throat ached for just a taste of that goodness. Just a touch. Just a lick.

For almost ten minutes of unbearable torture, she lay on her back on the rock, her own hand moving timidly in and out of her cunt as she watched Roxanne bring herself close to an orgasm time and time again, only to pull her hand away at the last moment and wait until the peak had subsided before continuing. She seemed determined to make Pat suffer for as long as possible before giving in to the release that would being them both satisfaction.

Finally, when Pat's own need was at the breaking point and she knew she couldn't hold back much longer, whether or not Roxanne came with her or before, the girl's legs tensed and her fingers began to shove their way in and out of the hole with ever-mounting friction.

"I'm going to do it this time," she gasped down at Pat. "I'm ready now. I'm going to come, Big Sister. And I'm going to hold my cunt wide open, so I'll come all over your face! Just like rain from heaven! I'm going to cover your face with my juice and make you feel like you're drowning in it!"

"Yes! Yessssssssss!" Pat whimpered. Her fingers moved violently inside her cunt. She threw her head back as a deep howl of release suddenly burst from her and she felt the sticky warmth of her juice flowing down around her hand.

At just that instant, with Pat's head thrown back and her mouth wide open in a cry of satisfaction, Roxanne began to come, too. She quickly slipped her fingers out of her hole after one last shove deep inside it to insure the orgasm would not be lost, then spread apart the meaty lips of her crack and let the full flood of her girl-juice come pouring out and dribble all over Pat's face.

She closed her eyes quickly as she felt the first splash of the sticky fluid drop onto the bridge of her nose. Another glob fell on her left cheek, then one on her upper lip, where it ran down into her open mouth. Tasting the salty-sweetness of it, Pat's own orgasm quickened and she begged Roxanne for more. She raised her head higher, the better to catch more of the dripping juice in her mouth, but it continued to splash across her face wherever it fell. At least half the orgasm splattered somewhere other than into Pat's gaping mouth, with its tongue twitching frantically to lap up any drops that fell within its range.

Finally, seeing there was no more to come, she pushed her face right up against the sopping cunt and began to lick away the dribble that had caught in Roxanne's bush of pubic hair on its way from her cunt. The girl squirmed and laughed that it tickled, but Pat wouldn't let her push her head from between her legs until she was completely satisfied there was no more cum to be lapped up.

"Now, Big Sister," she taunted, "would you like to tell me once again about how you feel about a 'next time'?"

"No." Pat shook her head slowly. After the way she'd just behaved, there was no sense in trying to deny she wasn't hooked on the girl. They both knew that Roxanne had won once again, and most likely would continue to do so in the future.

"Do you know what?" the girl taunted, stepping away from Pat and starting to gather up her clothes to get dressed again. "You made up for being so nasty to me before, so I'm going to tell you my secret."

Pat looked at her in confusion for a moment. In the excitement of what had just happened between them, she'd almost forgotten the reason for their meeting in the first place. It hardly seemed important to her now, whatever it might be.

"Okay," she said slowly. "Should I stay sitting down for this, or do you think it would be safe to start getting dressed?"

She had made the remark with more sarcasm than earnestness, but Roxanne didn't receive it as such. "Maybe you'd better stay sitting. It's going to come as a helluva shock to you, Big Sister."

"What?" Pat's brain was spinning crazily once again, as she tried to imagine what possible information the girl could have that would be so important.

"Well," the girl purred, looking straight into Pat's eyes with a wicked smile on her face, "your girlfriend June is sleeping with Mimsy Colberg."

Pat's first instinct was to imagine she hadn't heard her correctly. Her second instinct, after realizing what she'd heard was what Roxanne had said, was to laugh. "You're joking!"

"I'm not joking, and I'm relieved you're taking it so well. I thought surely you'd go running for the first gun you could find and shoot them both!"

"You're -- not joking..."

"Of course not! I saw them doing it! Or, rather, I guess I should say I saw Big Sister June doing it. Mimsy didn't do much except lay back and enjoy it. Afterwards, she licked the cum off June's legs like you just did to me."

"I -- don't -- believe -- it..."

"You'd better believe it, Big Sister!" Roxanne laughed. Her eyes followed Pat as she got shakily to her feet and began to put on her clothes. "It's probably going to happen again. Soon. That kind of hot love affair takes a long time to cool down."

"How do you know this?" Pat demanded. "Where did you see them doing it?"

"Same place I saw you and June doing it," Roxanne laughed cruelly, "I think it was even on the same bed. I followed them, you see. I noticed that Mimsy hadn't gone down to the lake for swimming class with the other girls and I wondered why. I mean, she's terrified of the water. Swims like a rock. I thought maybe she was trying to hide, but then I saw her with Big Sister June and I figured something had to be up. When they went back to your cabin. I crept along behind them and hid until they'd gone inside. You know," she chuckled, "somebody really should tell poor June about those curtains. If she's going to go on giving free shows to everyone who walks past, maybe she'd better think about charging admission!"

Pat's face was white. Her jaw was clenched as tightly together as the fists at her side. Her whole body was trembling and she'd barely heard or understood any of Roxanne's last remarks.

"So that's why!" she thought, her anger mounting like acid in her veins. "It's not that she's giving up girls; she's just giving up me! Like an old car you trade in for a newer model! Well I'll show her! I'll fix her good!"

"You know," Roxanne continued, "I think that June..." She stopped abruptly as Pat suddenly pulled up the zipper on her shorts, turned and began to run back toward the woods and the cabin beyond. "Hey! Pat! Where are you going?" the girl cried after her. "What are you going to do?"

Pat didn't even hear the sound of her voice calling after her as she ran, though. Her fury couldn't have been stopped by the sudden blast of a bomb if it had gone off in front of her.

"Pat?" Roxanne called in vain. "Hey, Pat! What are you going to do?"

CHAPTER NINE

About a week later, June was interrupted in the middle of her basket weaving class by a messenger from Mrs. Marchant, saying that the camp's owner wanted to see her immediately. An uneasy, sick kind of feeling bubbled through June's stomach as she excused herself from the class and started through the woods to the cabin where Mrs. Marchant had her office. To be called away in the middle of a class, she knew, had to mean that something important was up. Something, she feared, that had a great deal to do with Mimsy Colberg. And something, too, she had little doubt, that could be traced directly back to Pat.

"So she finally got up her nerve to do it," she thought bitterly, recalling the violent argument she and Pat had had late at night, about a week to the day. Pat had burst into the cabin like a madwoman, shaken June out of a sound sleep, and ranted and raved for more than an hour. At the heart of her rantings was the knowledge that June and Mimsy Colberg had been having sex. It had terrified June to discover Pat knew about it, but press as she would she was unable to find out from her how. Had she seen them going into the cabin, she wondered, and eavesdropped at the window? Or, worse, had someone else seen them and told Pat about it? The thought that what she had done to Mimsy that first afternoon -- and which they'd both done to each other several times again in the past week -- might soon be gossip for the whole camp's ears sent a shudder of fear running through June as she hurried toward Mrs. Marchant's cabin.

In the height of their argument, Pat had threatened to go to the camp's owner and report June's sexual involvement with one of the girls. She had screamed that it would serve June right, for trying to make her believe she was through with lesbian relations for good, when all she really wanted was a clear field with Mimsy Colberg. June had countered by challenging Pat to make the report, feeling in her heart that she knew the girl who'd once been her lover well enough to know she never would do it. Until that afternoon, her belief had been justified to the point where she'd actually felt safe having further sexual relations with Mimsy. She and the girl had met several times in June's cabin while Pat was away, and three nights during the last week they'd had secret meetings in the woods after everyone else in the camp was asleep. Now June didn't know what to think -- except that Pat had turned her in.

She knocked lightly on the cabin door and entered as Mrs. Marchant called out, "Come in." The woman looked up from her desk with a stern, almost angry frown creasing her thin forehead. "Oh, it's you, June."

"Here it comes," the girl thought, swallowing hard as she stared into the cold eyes of the camp owner.

To her surprise, however, Mrs. Marchant looked back down at her papers and informed her, "You have a visitor."

"What?" June was so startled that the woman hadn't said what she'd expected her to say that for a moment she didn't understand. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Marchant? Would you repeat that, please?"

"What's the matter?" the woman snapped in her old maid school teacher voice. "Do you have a bug in your ear this afternoon? I said you have a visitor. He's waiting to see you in the other room."

"He...? A visitor...?" June mumbled in confusion.

"He says he's your young man," the woman impatiently explained. "I informed him that you were in the middle of a class and asked if he would wait until you'd finished and dismissed the girls, but he insisted it was of the utmost urgency that he see you immediately. He said he wouldn't leave my office until I had you called." It was clear by the woman's peevish tone that she was annoyed by the whole situation. "Try not to let him keep you too long, June. There's no telling what the girls might get into left alone like this."

"Yes, Mrs. Marchant," June said quickly, feeling a flood of relief run through her as she realized the worst of what she'd feared was not going to come true. "Of course. I understand. I'll only be a minute. As soon as I see what he wants, I'll get back to my class."

"Well, I hope so..." the woman muttered, as June crossed the room and opened the door of the little anteroom to the office.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she confronted Gary, her boyfriend from college. As he rushed across the room to take her in his arms, June's first thought was, "My God! Something's happened at home! Pop! He's had another heart attack!"

Her hands clutched frantically at Gary's arms, pushing him away when he tried to kiss her. "Gary, what's wrong? Is it Pop? Mother? What's happened?"

"Hey! Hey!" he laughed. "Hold on! It's nothing like that; your folks are both doing fine. I talked to them on the phone last night to tell them I was coming up here and see if there was anything they wanted me to bring you."

After the tension of her fears, the seemingly inconsequential reason for Gary's visit struck June in a way that made her as much angry as it did relieved. "What are you doing here? What do you want, Gary?" she snapped, more sharply than she'd meant to.

"Well!" he smiled. "That's a heck of a welcome from the girl I'm in love with, I must say!"

"What do you want? Don't you know I have a class waiting for me right now? Mrs. Marchant told me you said it was some kind of emergency, that you had to see me immediately."

"I just told her that because I knew if I didn't she wouldn't call you," the boy grinned. "I've got to get back for work tomorrow morning, so I can't spend too much time up here."

"What do you want?" June sighed impatiently. "Will you please tell me and get it over with?"

Gary's face went suddenly serious as he reached for June's hand and squeezed it hard. "I've got to talk to you. About us."

"Oh, God!" she moaned. "Is that all?"

"Well, it's important to me, at least, to know where we stand," the boy argued. "Maybe you feel different about it since I saw you last."

"Look, Gary," June explained, freeing her arm from his grip. "I can't talk to you right now. Mrs. Marchant is already annoyed because I've left the girls alone, and if I'm not back soon she'll have my head on a platter. It's a wonderful surprise to see you like this, but I wish you'd have phoned or written me first to let me know you were coming."

"I didn't have time. I just made up my mind to come yesterday; as soon as I got the letter."

"What letter?"

"I left it in the car. Come on for a drive with me and I'll let you read it."

"Gary, I can't. Aren't you able to understand that? This is my job you're interrupting. I'm working, but I might not be much longer if I don't get back to those girls."

"What time does your class finish?"

"In about a half-hour, but then I've got group conferences almost until it's time for dinner. I really don't see how..."

"Can I meet you somewhere later tonight? After dinner, maybe?"

"I've got to see the girls get settled down for the night."

"Well, after that, then."

"It'll be late, Gary. I really don't think..."

"You mean I drove all the way up here for nothing?" he snapped.

Without thinking first, June snapped right back at him, "Who asked you to? I didn't..."

"Okay, forget it, then."

"Oh, Gary! I'm sorry! Wait a minute; don't go! I didn't mean it the way it sounded!" She hurried after him, stopping his hand just as it reached for the doorknob to the outside, "I'll meet you at eleven o'clock. I think it'll be safe by that time."

His face brightened immediately. "Okay, where?"

June thought quickly for a moment. "Park your car close to the main gate, but out of sight if you can manage it. There's a little cabin close to the fence that used to be the gatekeeper's house when this was a private estate. It's deserted now."

"I think I saw it on my way in. Is that where you want me to meet you?"

"At eleven," she promised, leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "I've got to run now. See you later."

For all she was able to concentrate on teaching the class when she returned to it, however, June might just as well have gone off with the boy right there and then. Her mind was unable to concentrate on anything other than what had brought him all the way from Boston to the Summer Sisters Camp. What was this mysterious letter he was talking about, she wondered? Her first suspicion had been that it was one of those she'd written to Pat, but she quickly realized that if that were the case Gary wouldn't be half as off-handed as he'd been. He'd be hopping mad, demanding an explanation or a denial. But what else it could be was anyone's guess.

"June?" Mimsy asked when the class was over and the girls were starting down to the lake. "Can I see you again tonight? In our secret place?"

It hurt her inside to have to shake her head and tell the girl, "No, darling, I'm sorry. Not tonight. I can't make it."

"Why?" Mimsy asked innocently.

"I -- can't explain."

"It's not because you're tired of seeing me, is it?" the girl asked softly. "Because if I thought that was true, June, I don't know what I'd do. You're my whole life. I'd be lost forever if you left me."

"Don't talk such nonsense," she chided, but inside herself she glowed with love and happiness for the girl and had been deeply touched that Mimsy expressed such strong feelings for her. "It has nothing to do with you. I'll see you tomorrow, in our place."

As she started to walk away, she felt the girl's hand lightly touch her arm. "June?" she whispered. "There's no one else, is there?"

She turned her head and felt a rush of emotion flood through her as she stared into Mimsy's tearful eyes. "Of course not, darling," she swore. "There's no one else but you. Now get out of here and go down to the lake where you belong, before I lose all control and make love to you right now."

"Mmmmmmm!" Mimsy grinned. "That sounds wonderful! I think I'll stay!"

June slapped her behind with a sharp whack and pushed her playfully toward the path to the lake. "Go on, get! I want to see you swimming like a fish by the end of the summer. I understand you're like a rock right now."

"I'll learn," the girl sighed as she turned to go. "If it kills me, I'll learn, I guess..."

June smiled after her and waited until she'd disappeared in the thicket of woods, then bundled up her materials and trudged back to her cabin for the group conferences she'd scheduled earlier in the week. For the rest of the day and into the early evening she was so busy with work that she didn't have time to think much about her meeting with Gary. But at quarter to eleven, as she slipped out of the cabin and started through the woods toward the old gatehouse, she felt a queasy sensation rippling through her stomach. It wasn't so much facing whatever Gary had to tell her that put her nerves so on edge; it was seeing the boy himself, and knowing that most likely he would want to use the meeting as an excuse to have sex with her. June wasn't at all sure that she wanted it to happen.

Mimsy Colberg had turned her whole world upside down on its ear. Before she slept with the girl for the first time, June had thought her life was free of entanglements after breaking with Pat and on a direct course toward marriage and a family with Gary. Now she didn't know if such a future still appealed to her. She'd found such all-fulfilling happiness in Mimsy's arms that it seemed impossible any boy -- not just Gary -- could match it. The tenderness that had flown between the two girls as they made love was unlike anything that had ever happened to June with Gary or any other guy. She felt as though only with Mimsy had she discovered what sex and love were really all about. Not even Pat had turned her on so completely, so that almost every waking moment was spent thinking of the girl and making plans for their future.

There wasn't much time left for her to make a decision about what to do, though. It was only a short walk to the gate house, and as she came through the clearing of trees surrounding it she could see the burning tip of a cigarette glowing in Gary's hand as he paced restlessly back and forth. He hadn't seen or heard her approaching and for a moment she thought of slipping back into the woods and not keeping the appointment at all. But that was the coward's way out, she knew, and since Gary was only liable to create a major scene if she didn't show up, it would have to be faced sooner or later.

June stepped into the clearing and hurried quickly toward the boy. His face broke into a welcoming smile as soon as he spotted her, but June didn't give him a chance to reach for her or even to say hello. "Where did you leave your car?" she asked.

"Outside the gate. Nobody'll see it."

"All right, let's get inside."

"What's the rush?" he grinned, trying to take her in his arms.

"Gary, don't!" she complained, struggling to break his hold around her. She turned her face away as he tried to kiss her and his lips smacked into her cheek instead of her mouth, as intended.

"Boy, you're jumpy tonight!" he laughed. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want anyone to see us."

"Like who? The owls in the trees?"

"I've had the strangest feeling that someone has been following me ever since I left my cabin," she explained, thinking to herself, "And I don't need more than one guess to figure out who it is." Her eyes scanned the darkness of the woods behind them, but if Pat was hiding there watching them she was well concealed. "Please let's go inside."

The door was open on the old gate house, but it creaked, like the gate of hell being swung open when Gary pulled it back. He went in first, as though to check out any possible danger before letting June enter behind him. An old oil lamp sat on a broken down table in the middle of the room and Gary stumbled toward it in the semi-dark with a lit match in his hand, holding it to the base of the lamp until the wick caught and the room suddenly was filled with a warm glow of light.

"There," he grinned. "That's better, isn't it?"

"Much," June agreed.

"Pull up a chair and sit down!" the boy offered, dusting off the seat of a broken-backed chair and pushing it toward her. "Might as well make ourselves comfortable."

"Gary," she said impatiently, "we don't have time to make ourselves at home. You've got a long drive ahead of you if you're going to be at work in the morning, and I guess I don't need to tell you what would happen to me if anyone caught us here, together like this."

"Why?" he grinned. "We're not doing anything."

"Mrs. Marchant wouldn't see it that way, I'm afraid," June informed him. "If she found me here alone with you this late at night she'd think I was first cousin to the Whore of Babylon."

"I've thought that sometimes," he teased. "Especially the hot way you screw, baby! Must have had some good ancestors! Or did you pick it up naturally by instinct?"

He moved around behind her and tried to slip his arms around her waist. June pulled loose, but he caught her again and turned her so they faced one another.

"Do you know you haven't even given me a kiss yet?" he asked.

"Haven't I?" She moved her face closer and gave him a quick peck on the mouth. Instead of the heady rush of excitement she'd once felt pressing her lips to Gary's, with all the tingling sensations that accompanied the kiss and made her want to do more intimate things with him, she felt only a little shudder of revulsion run down her spine. The boy's lips felt dry and cracked; so hard, compared to the moist softness of Mimsy's mouth. It seemed almost an abuse of herself to offer her lips to a man's rough mouth.

"Hey! What kind of kiss is that? Let's have a real one, huh?" the boy insisted. He pulled her closer, pressing the front of his body flush with June's. She could feel the stirring of his cock starting to rouse itself in his pants as he ground himself slowly from side to side against her and wedged his tongue deep inside her mouth. It was all June could do to keep from gagging until he released her. "That's better!" he laughed. "Much better! How about another one?"

June's ears suddenly perked to attention. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"Didn't you hear that noise outside just now? Like somebody was out there?"

"Forget it! It's just your imagination. You're pretty high-strung tonight, baby. I think you need something to relax you. Something like this." His hand quickly caught hers and brought her fingers to his crotch. He pressed her palm flush against the throbbing hardness growing in his pants. "What d'you say? Do you need a little of that to calm you down?"

"No..." she started to protest, but the word was only half-spoken before his mouth pressed down on hers once again and his thick tongue shoved its way through her lips. Feeling him press his hard-on against her belly made June shiver with revulsion. Her mind recalled all the things he'd done to her with that cock -- and all the things she'd done to it, including putting it inside her mouth and sucking it until he shot his load. Such memories repelled her now, and she knew without question that her future path was set. Mimsy had opened her eyes to the truth about herself, a truth that Pat had only half-revealed and a truth which Gary would never be able to understand. She had to break away from him; had to free herself from the touch of his hands and the demanding pressure of his body rocking back and forth against her. She knew well enough from past experience what would happen if she let things continue much further.

"Don't, Gary," she whimpered, pushing him away. "Not now. It's too dangerous."

"Who cares?" he laughed tensely. "I need you, baby. Like you need me. Let's start those colored lights going again, huh? Remember those crazy colored lights you said you saw whenever I screwed you?"

June remembered, with shame. It had all been a lie; she could see that now. Everything that had happened with Gary had been nothing more than a desperate attempt to free herself emotionally from Pat. Not because she wanted to escape the kind of love Pat offered her, but because the girl herself wasn't right for June. She could see that now. Not right in the way Mimsy was right for her, and always would be.

"Later, Gary," she promised, hating herself for yet another lie, but knowing it was necessary to find out what he'd come to the camp for. "After you've shown me the letter you have and explained what all this is about."

"Well, it's a heck of a thing to do to a guy in this condition," he smiled foolishly, with a glance down at the hard-on pushing through his pants, "but if you're sure you're not just putting me off..."

"I'm not, Gary," she told him. "Later, when it's safe, maybe we'll drive someplace in your car and -- there! Didn't you hear it that time?" she suddenly exclaimed, turning back toward the cabin door.

"You know, I think I did hear something out there that time," he agreed. "It sounded like a twig snapped, didn't it?"

"Yes! I told you so! Someone's out there, Gary! Listening to us. Watching..." Her mind suddenly put together two separate thoughts and she was certain of who the unseen presence in the nearby woods had to be. "That bitch!" she thought angrily. "I'll fix her! I'll give her a show that'll make her eat her heart out, if that's what she wants to see!" It seemed to make sense, she thought. If Pat knew Gary was there, she probably wanted to see how June would handle the situation, knowing as she did of her involvement with Mimsy. But June was determined not to give her any satisfaction. She'd make her squirm watching how she'd carry on with Gary, until she'd wish she'd never followed her out of the cabin.

"What makes you think it's someone?" the boy asked. "Why not something? Like an animal, I mean? That's probably all it was, you know. These woods are full of animals, I imagine."

"They sure are!" June thought angrily. "And I'll bet there's a big, black-haired rat out there right now, watching us. A female rat, with a name that rhymes."

"Maybe you're right," she agreed aloud, slipping her arm around Gary's waist. She rested her head lightly on his shoulder. "Anyway, what does it matter what's out there, as long as I've got my big, strong man here to protect me?"

"That's right," he laughed. "And I am your man, aren't I, baby?"

"There's no other man I love more than you," she said, biting lightly on the tip of her tongue at the half-truth with its concealed irony.

"That's my baby."

He turned her unexpectedly and took her back in his arms. This time, feeling certain that Pat was watching from somewhere in the darkness beyond the gate house, June threw herself into the kiss as feverishly as she ever had done in the past. Her fingernails raked up and down the boy's back as she worked her tongue in combat with his. It surprised her how quickly she was able to respond to his passion, until she realized that it was all an act she'd learned to perfection many months earlier and been rehearsing every time they'd been together. Her feeling for him had been no more real then than it was now. Except now she was aware of what she was doing.

Her hands squeezed in on the cheeks of the boy's tight behind through his jeans, pressing his hardened cock flush with her thigh. She ground herself against him until he made moaning noises in his throat which June was certain could be heard outside.

"Oh, baby! Let's screw!" he groaned, tearing his mouth from hers. "What d'you say?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" she said loudly enough for her voice to carry beyond the room. She hoped her tone sounded as choked with pent-up passion as she meant it to be. She wanted Pat to think she was the most cock-hungry bitch to ever stand on two legs. As Gary moved to open his pants, however, she quickly stopped him with her hand.

"Not -- not just yet, though," she murmured softly. "Show me the letter, first."

"Screw the letter!" he laughed. Then, "No, on second thought, I think I'd rather screw you!"

"Please, Gary? If it was important enough to make you drive all the way up here to see me, don't you think you should show it to me?"

"It's not really important now. You've already answered any doubts I had."

"About what?"

"Here," he suggested, fishing into his back pocket for a crumpled envelope. "Read it for yourself."

June took the letter from him with slightly trembling hands. The single scrap of paper inside the envelope contained only a very short message. Word for word, it read: If you care at all about your relationship with June Halstead, pay a surprise visit on the camp where she's working.

"What does it mean?" she asked, puzzled as she handed back the letter.

"Who knows?" He smiled and scratched at the back of his head. "I guess some friend of yours must have realized how much you've been missing me and wrote so I'd come up and take care of business."

"I wonder..."

More likely, June thought, it was Pat trying to stir up some trouble. Although the handwriting on the envelope and the letter itself had been disguised, she could recognize Pat's scrawl from the many letters they'd exchanged themselves. Probably she thought if Gary came to the camp and surprised June with Mimsy it would create the havoc she wanted to see as her revenge. But once again she'd find herself mistaken, June vowed. There'd be no trouble at all, because she was going to give Gary exactly what he wanted and then send him on his way. She'd continue to write to him for the rest of the summer, although her letters would be carefully composed to reflect a growing coolness between them, and at the end of the summer, when she'd gone home again, she would tell him she'd decided to break off the affair. It would all be done neatly and cleanly, with no complications. All she had to do was get through the next few minutes, with Gary pumping his loathsome cock inside her. But even that, she knew, she could get through with flying colors. She faked sexual emotion with him in the past; she could certainly do it this one last time. Sort of a goodbye present, she thought with grim humor. And what topping on the cake it would be to give it to him with Pat watching from outside. It would serve her right.

"That's all it was?" she laughed.

"That's all."

"Why didn't you tell me in the first place? I thought it was some big deal, like you were going to break up with me. I've never been so worried in my life as I was all day today," June swore. "I didn't know what I was going to do if you'd told me you didn't want to see me again. You're the whole world to me, Gary." She hated herself for saying such things, knowing them to be untrue, but it was all for a good cause. Maybe after this, she hoped, Pat would never bother her again.

"Baby, I'm all yours," the boy grunted. "You've got me in every way a chick can get a guy."

"Make love to me," she moaned. "Please, Gary. I need you so desperately. I've been going crazy all week, without any real sex to satisfy me." She put special emphasis on the word, for Pat's benefit. She wanted the girl to know that there was no way she could compete with what Gary was about to do to her. "Take me! Please! Now!" she begged.

"Baby, just get down on that floor and roil up that skirt! I'm ready and willing!"

As he climbed on top of her and she felt the hard pressure of his cock working its way between her legs and nudging the entrance to her cunt, June closed her eyes and grit her teeth tightly together. "It's just this one last time," she thought with determination. She winced as he entered her, then tried her best to keep from pushing him away in disgust as he started to pump his large cock in and out of her hole. "This one last time, for Pat's benefit," she swore silently, "and then no one's ever going to touch me again but Mimsy. Sweet, wonderful Mimsy..."

Gary had finished coming and pulled out of her, but they still lay sweating and naked on the bare floor. As the boy reached for a pack of cigarettes in his discarded jeans, the sudden thump of a car door slamming shut outside the gate house startled them both. As June scurried to grab her clothes, the creaking door burst open and the blinding glare of a flashlight beam struck her full in the eyes. Behind the light came a voice that made her go sick inside.

"Well, well, well!" Mrs. Marchant cracked, her voice like the slash of a whip. "So this is the urgent business you had to see June about, is it? This -- this filth! This depravity! And right under my very nose! When someone called and said there was a fire in the gate house, I never expected to find this!"

"The light!" June thought hopelessly. Someone must have seen the glow of the oil lamp through the window and mistaken it for flames. Or was it that way, she suddenly wondered? Maybe the call that had summoned Mrs. Marchant had been made for no other reason than to have the woman discover June with Gary. It seemed to make a lot more sense, especially when she thought about who might have made such a call.

"So she's won after all," she thought bitterly. "Pat's finality had the guts to turn me in."

"Get your clothes on, both of you," Mrs. Marchant snapped. "As soon as you're dressed, young man, I want you off these premises. If I find you here again. I'll call the police. And as for you, June." Her eyes narrowed into dark slits of outrage as they stared at the girl. "I'll expect to see you in my office in fifteen minutes to discuss how quickly we can arrange for you to be sent home."

"Sent home!" June's heart dropped like a dead weight. "Oh, no, Mrs. Marchant! Please!" Being sent home would ruin everything. She'd never see Mimsy again, never have a chance to further their wonderful relationship. At all costs, no matter what she had to agree to do or what sacrifices she'd promise to make, she had to stay at the camp for the rest of the summer.

"We'll discuss it in my office," Mrs. Marchant said. As she turned to the door to go back to her car, the sound of many girls' voices drifted across the still night air. "What on earth? Who's this running down the road now?"

"Mrs. Marchant! Mrs. Marchant!" one of the girl campers screamed as she raced toward the open door of the gate house. "Come quick! Something terrible's happened! Mimsy Colberg is in the lake!"

"What?" June gasped. She felt as though a dagger had just been plunged into her chest and for a moment her legs felt like they were going to buckle in under her. She staggered toward the door and leaned heavily against it as the other girl rushed up to the woman.

"She's in the lake, Mrs. Marchant!" the girl sobbed. "She's in the lake!"

"At this time of night?" the camp owner snapped angrily, not understanding, as June did, the significance of what was being told her. "Is she drunk? Nothing would surprise me this night..."

"She can't swim, Mrs. Marchant," June said her voice a dry rattle in her throat.

"That's right!" the other girl cried. "She's just floating there near the dock, face down. I-I think Mimsy is dead, Mrs. Marchant."

They were the last words June heard before the blackness that had been spinning through her mind suddenly closed in and she fainted.

CHAPTER TEN

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here another day or two?" Pat asked softly, as she watched June pack the last of her things into her suitcase the following morning. "Until you're feeling a little better, I mean?"

"No," she answered, her voice cold and lifeless, as she felt inside. "Gary's going to drive me back home. He's waiting in the parking lot for me to finish packing."

"If you wanted to stay, I'm sure Mrs. Marchant would let you. After -- what else happened last night, I don't think she even remembers about you and Gary."

"I do, though," June thought. It was something she would never in her life be able to forget. How ironic, she thought, that she should have made love to Gary in the gate house only to spite Pat, when it was Mimsy she'd heard outside in the darkness. Poor Mimsy, who hadn't understood what she'd seen June doing and in her despair had thrown herself off the dock and drowned. In a way, June thought, it was almost poetic justice. In trying to hurt someone else, she had brought the most intense pain she'd ever known into her own life.

"I can't stay here any longer, Pat," she said. "You must be able to understand why. If for no other reason, how on earth could I ever face her parents?"

"I guess you're right." She watched June close the lid on her suitcase and snap the locks into place. "I'm sorry, June," she whispered. "More sorry than I'll ever be able to make you know. I never wanted anything like this to happen; please believe me."

"I know," June said. "I guess we all do things for one reason at some time in our life and see it turn around and backfire on us."

"I'd never have sent that letter to Gary if I'd known..."

"Let's not talk about it any more, Pat. It's time for me to go and my head's spinning."

"Before you leave..."

June turned her head and saw the girl holding out a small stack of letters bound with a scarlet ribbon. "I think these belong to you," Pat said, handing them to June. "I don't deserve to keep them any more."

"You can, if you want to."

"They don't matter any more," Pat said sadly. "It's all over for us, what's in those letters. I only wish I'd realized it sooner. Then maybe..."

"Maybe not. Maybe it would have happened anyway, some other way." She took the letters and shoved them inside her purse. "Who can say what might have happened? We only know what did -- and what didn't."

"I wish I didn't feel so much like it was all my fault," Pat said, her voice close to tears.

June offered her hand and, when Pat took it, squeezed hers hard. "It's no more your fault than it is mine. No one's to blame, really. It was all just one unfortunate circumstance after another."

"Do you forgive me for sending that letter to Gary?"

June had to swallow hard before answering. "Yes. I do."

"Are you going to marry him when you get back home?"

"I don't know," June sighed wearily. "I'll have to think about it. He loves me..."

"But you don't really love him."

"No," she agreed, shaking her head sadly. "But what difference does that make? I can't spend the rest of my life alone; I've got to find somebody and it might as well be Gary as anyone else. It really doesn't matter." She knew the words she spoke were the truth. Never again would she be able to love as she had loved Mimsy. All of that part of her lay buried somewhere on the bottom of the lake that had taken her sweet young lover away from her. "I'll write and let you know what I decide," she promised.

"Please do, June. It would make me so happy."

June did her best to force a smile on her face as she offered Pat her hand. "Well, I guess this is goodbye."

Tears were running freely down Pat's face, but June's eyes were clear and dry. Tears, too, were something that would be buried with Mimsy Colberg.

"Can't I at least kiss you goodbye the proper way?" Pat whispered.

June dropped her suitcase and embraced her, then offered her lips in a passionless kiss of farewell. When the girls parted, June picked up her case and walked with it to the door without saying another word or even so much as a glance back over her shoulder. It was like she was leaving not only the world of Summer Sisters behind her, but everything that had anything at all to do with life and living.

As Pat walked behind her to the door, then leaned against it to watch June walk away from the cabin and toward whatever sort of life she was going to make for herself in the future, she felt a cold shudder run down her spine. She pressed her fingers to her mouth and felt her lips as cold as ice.

"Like kissing a corpse," she murmured sadly.