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Message-ID: <39870asstr$1039968606@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Nick Scipio <imperatorSPAM@BLOCKmindspring.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Summer Camp - Chapter 01 (MF, oral, voy, mast)
Date: Sun, 15 Dec 2002 11:10:06 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 1: Susan
Part: Chapter 01
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: MF, oral, voy, mast
Revision: 1.3
Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/SummerCamp1
Mailing List: Scipio_Stories-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
FAQ: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/scipio/www/faq.htm

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

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

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

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

Copyright (c) 2002 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

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

Summer Camp - Book 1: Susan
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER ONE

I hung up the receiver and sat in silence for several moments, 
looking at the note I'd written on the pad next to the phone.

"Who was on the phone, honey?" my wife asked from the door to my 
office.

"Hmm?" I shook my head, lost in thought. "Sorry dear. What did 
you say?"

"I asked who was on the phone," she said again, indulgently.

"Mom."

"Oh? You didn't talk long."

"No."

Seeing the expression on my face, my wife grew concerned.

"Is everything alright?"

Looking up at her, I drew myself back to the present, shaking my 
head again to clear my thoughts.

"Yes... well... yes and no."

She raised her eyebrows in silent question.

"Mom's fine," I reassured her. "She was calling to tell me that a 
friend had died."

My eyes were drawn back to the notepad and my hastily scrawled 
note. I thought back to a summer... a summer many years ago. But 
perhaps not so many, the memories were so fresh and clear.

Sensing that I was lost in thought, and knowing she could ask me 
about it later, my wife quietly shut the door and left me to 
myself.

-----

My story really begins when I was 12 and my family lived in 
Savannah, Georgia. My father was a pilot for an air charter 
company, and my mother was what would now be called a stay-at-
home Mom. The summer after I finished sixth grade, we went on a 
vacation that would change my life forever.

My mother and father had always been very open raising my sister, 
Erin, and me. They didn't flaunt themselves in front of us, but 
they didn't hide their bodies when we'd come into their room, or 
any other time we might see them without their clothes.

My sister and I knew our parents slept in the nude, and they'd 
sometimes sunbathe nude in our fenced-in back yard. On family 
vacations, or at my grandparents' lake, we'd all skinny-dip 
occasionally. But while nudity wasn't a taboo in our family, 
there weren't any times when we spent a long time in the nude.

In the summer of 1975, that was about to change.

That summer, our parents asked Erin and me what we thought about 
the family going to a nudist camp for our summer vacation. 

I hated the idea immediately.

Mom and Dad told us that the camp (called simply The Pines 
Resort) was in South Carolina, and was run by a woman named 
Susan. If we decided to go, we were supposed to tell our friends 
from school that we were going to spend the summer at "Aunt 
Susan's." She wasn't our real aunt, of course, but it was a 
useful fiction.

Our parents were fairly open with both of us, and we talked about 
the trip before we made a final decision. My mom and dad 
certainly seemed enthusiastic, and Erin was all in favor of the 
trip; especially when they started telling her about the camp.

They told us about the big spring-fed lake, the playground, the 
games, the sports, and all the other fun things to do there. When 
they told us that the camp was a "family camp," and that there 
would be other kids our age, that seemed to cinch it for Erin.

She was two and a half years younger than me, and hadn't entered 
puberty yet. Of course she would love to go; she didn't have an 
awkward and slightly pudgy body just beginning to sprout all the 
usual hair.

At 12, my body had just started changing, and the _last_ thing 
that I wanted to do was take my clothes off for a month at a 
nudist camp! I was embarrassed enough at the changes my body was 
undergoing; I didn't want the added embarrassment of everyone 
else knowing, too.

I sulked, in the self-centered way only a 12-year-old can, and my 
parents wisely let me stew about things for a few days. Erin, on 
the other hand, constantly wheedled me. She obviously couldn't 
fathom why I wouldn't jump at the opportunity to go to such a fun 
place.

Indeed!

A few days later, my mom brought the subject up again, when we 
were alone in the kitchen. I guess she knew she'd have a better 
chance if Erin weren't around to pester me.

When Mom asked why I wasn't enthusiastic about going to the 
nudist camp, I shrugged and mumbled, "I dunno."

I was worried about people--especially any girls my age--seeing 
my awkward body, and making me feel embarrassed. But I couldn't 
tell her that. Nonetheless, I think she sensed that _that_ was 
the problem. So she pointed out to me that there would be other 
boys my age there.

"So?"

"Well, you can meet other kids your age and make new friends."

"I don't want any new friends my age," I said sullenly.

"You can meet older boys then... or girls."

Then, I Got It! I was so worried about girls my age seeing me 
that I completely overlooked the fact that if girls my age would 
be at the camp, then I could see them too.

I may have been a petulant 12-year-old, embarrassed by my 
changing body and being a little on the chubby side, but I wasn't 
stupid. A nudist camp meant naked teenaged girls! And at age 12, 
I had discovered that girls weren't as bad as I'd thought only a 
year before. My younger sister got on my nerves often enough, but 
older girls... Now, older girls had boobs, and pubic hair, and 
other things that I knew I liked.

But even at 12, I knew I couldn't cave in as quickly as I wanted; 
at least, not without looking like an idiot. So I gloomily 
agreed.

"Yeah, I guess," I said in my best faux-sullen voice.

Mom smiled at my change of heart. "You'll have fun, honey. You'll 
see."

-----

I'd like to say that my life changed dramatically during the 
summer of 1975, but the truth is much more mundane. The 
experience opened my eyes quite a bit, and set me on the road to 
a monumental series of events, but in the summer of 1975 those 
events were still in my future.

Despite my original reluctance, I really liked the camp. It was 
everything that my parents had promised; there were all sorts of 
things to do there, and enough kids my age that I always had 
someone to do things with. Once I got over my initial self-
consciousness, I guess I forgot to be embarrassed. And after I 
got over my first day's sunburn (having to wear a t-shirt in the 
lake so I didn't get burned even worse is _not_ my idea of a fun 
time), I enjoyed our time at the camp.

"Aunt Susan," as it turned out, was about my parents' age, and 
had two sons who were a few years older than me. In addition, 
there were many other families with kids. Some would stay for a 
week or two and then leave, some families stayed longer, and 
still others seemed to spend the entire summer there.

I certainly got my fill of looking at tanned and naked teenage 
girls. When you're around nudity all the time, however, the 
naughty aspect of it all kinda wears off. I certainly had to hide 
my share of painful and unwieldy erections, but I got used to it. 
And it did provide me with some wonderful fantasy material for 
masturbating, whenever I could find the time alone; which was as 
often as I could, those first couple of weeks.

The four weeks that my family spent at the camp seemed to race 
by, and it was all too soon that we had to return to "the real 
world" in Savannah.

Every summer after that, we spent several weeks at "Aunt 
Susan's."

There was only one hiccup in our family routine over the next few 
years. In early 1977, my father was hired by a major airline in 
Atlanta, and my family moved. We were further away from the camp, 
but we stayed a full six weeks during the summer of '77. My 
father had to return to Atlanta a few times, to fly for several 
days at a time, but Erin and I largely enjoyed ourselves. I could 
tell that Mom missed Dad when he had to fly, but at 14, noticing 
things outside your own little world isn't really a common 
occurrence.

-----

The next year, 1978, Mom and Dad asked us if we'd like to spend 
the entire summer at Aunt Susan's. We could get one of the small 
cabins for the summer, and whenever Dad needed to fly a trip, he 
could drive into Columbia, and then catch a flight to Atlanta.

Dad told us that he'd bid lines which had all their trips jammed 
into ten or twelve days at a time, and that he should be able to 
spend more time with us. When he was gone, he'd be gone for about 
two weeks at a time, but he'd only have to leave three or four 
times over the entire summer.

We thought it was a great idea, and decided to leave the day 
after school ended, which coincided with my 15th birthday. Happy 
Birthday to me! I looked forward to the camp like only a 
perpetually horny 15-year-old could.

By that summer, I'd survived the "awkward phase" of puberty. I'd 
had a growth spurt the year before, and I was currently a half-
inch over 5'7". At 15, that extra half-inch is important! But I 
was still a little pudgy. Mom and Dad both said it was just "baby 
fat" (a phrase I patently despised) and that I'd grow out of it. 
I'm sure that all sounds very comforting when you're not the one 
who's pudgy. But while I was no longer incredibly self-conscious 
about my body, I certainly wasn't all that sure of myself yet. I 
don't think a self-possessed 15-year-old exists.

By then, however, Erin had begun to develop. She had smallish 
breasts and a downy tuft of pubic hair, but she was still 
boyishly slim. She didn't seem the least bit self-conscious, 
however (much to my consternation). After all, she had already 
spent several summers at Aunt Susan's, and she and her friends 
seemed to take undue enjoyment in comparing their developing 
bodies.

I guess that's just one of the many major differences between men 
and women.

But I digress...

Even though she was not quite 13, I could already see that Erin 
would look a lot like Mom. At 36, I had always thought of my mom 
as old, but I was slowly realizing that she was a very attractive 
woman. She was attractive in a Mom-ish sort of way, that is. (And 
of course, as I write this, older than that age myself, I realize 
how very young 36 actually is.)

Mom, whose name was Beth, had dark blond hair and a well-
proportioned, compact body. With the past year's growth spurt, 
I'd finally surpassed her 5'4" height. While I didn't know what 
size bra she wore, I did admire her nice, well-rounded breasts, 
which were topped by small brown areolas with pronounced nipples. 
I'd seen a lot of bare breasts over the past few years and 
realized that Mom's were very nice.

In addition, she had an hourglass figure with a neat patch of 
darker pubic hair covering her sex. In retrospect, I realize that 
Mom must have trimmed her bush, but at the tender (and somewhat 
naive) age of 15, I simply thought her pussy was neater and more 
attractive than those of other women. Mom also tanned easily, and 
was always a rich bronze color. Erin was the same way, and her 
lithe young body was always darker than mine.

Where Mom was ash blond with a dark tan, my father was dark-
haired and fair. My dad, David, was big. At 6 feet tall, he 
towered over me. He was also stocky, and far stronger than I ever 
thought I'd be. And while my 15-year-old penis wasn't as small as 
some of my friends from camp, I hoped that I would grow to be 
more like my Dad in that regard as well.

While I may have more of my Mom's height, I'd certainly gotten my 
father's dark brown hair and fair skin. Ever since our first year 
at camp, I'd had to make sure I didn't burn my skin badly in the 
blazing South Carolina sun. All in all, I guess I looked more 
like Dad. In time, I would develop a build more like my father's 
powerful frame, but in 1978, I was still short and had more than 
my fair share of "baby fat".

So my family, in early June of 1978, was looking forward to the 
end of school and our imminent departure for Aunt Susan's.

-----

At Aunt Susan's, we usually stayed in one of the motel-type rooms 
just up from the clubhouse. The "motel-type rooms" were actually 
a couple of rows of cinder-block buildings with rooms along both 
sides. Most of them had a queen-sized bed and either a twin bed 
or a set of bunk beds, with a dresser or small chest of drawers 
for storing personal items. Since it was a nudist camp, there 
wasn't much need for clothes storage. Some rooms were bigger, 
some were smaller, but the contents were generally the same.

In 1978, since my family was staying the entire summer, we got 
one of the stand-alone cabins further back, up the hill from the 
clubhouse. When we got to the camp, things started out mostly the 
same. Little changed from year to year at Aunt Susan's, and the 
camp was just as I'd remembered it.

The entire center of the camp was on top of a very large hill 
(more like a ridge). The crest of the hill was several hundred 
yards behind, and about eighty feet above the clubhouse, with a 
sandy road leading down the gentle slope into the camp proper. 
The sandy track led all the way--several miles--back out to the 
padlocked chain gate that protected the property. But once you 
crested the little rise behind the camp, South Carolina pines and 
sandy soil gave way to one-room cabins and small mobile-home 
trailers permanently parked on blocks and wired for electricity.

Down the hill, the cinder-block motel-type buildings were off to 
the left, and the clubhouse was on the right. The road continued 
for several hundred yards around to the left, down a bit from the 
clubhouse, towards a few of the permanent, regular-style houses 
occupied by the camp's full-time residents, like Aunt Susan.

Where the road bent gently to the left to follow the brow of the 
hill toward the houses, the ground sloped off to the right more 
steeply until it leveled out before the large freshwater lake. 
While the lake was spring-fed, it was actually man-made. There 
was a natural--and much larger--feeder lake to the left. An 
earthen dam with a concrete spillway let water overflow from the 
feeder lake into the man-made swimming lake. The swimming lake 
even had a brick coping around the entire circumference, complete 
with wide concrete steps down into the deepest, tree-shaded end. 
The lake also sported a canvas-covered raft of Styrofoam and 
wood; being spring-fed, the lake was _cold_ even in the heat of 
summer.

Down the hill from the clubhouse, on the side opposite the road, 
were shuffleboard courts and a sand volleyball court. Behind all 
that was a playground for the younger kids. The entire camp and 
surrounding woods were bigger than I've ever been able to 
explore, given over mostly to the pine tree forests and sandy 
soil that are dominant in that part of the country.

The clubhouse itself was often the center of life for the camp. 
There were several screen doors into the clubhouse, but I almost 
always used the side door next to the sandy road. Inside the cool 
confines of the large building, there were a few ping-pong 
tables, an old pool-hall-style pool table with the coin slots 
removed, and an air-hockey table (that always seemed to need 
repairing).

Towards the back of the building, and to the right of the game 
tables, there was a big bathroom area with a wall of sinks and an 
open shower area. I know it sounds strange, but this was a nudist 
camp, so there really was no need for privacy in the showers. 
There was, however, a door off the shower area that lead to a 
room containing several stalls and toilets.

Past the game tables, and the wall holding the sinks and 
containing the bathing area, the bulk of the clubhouse unfolded. 
Off to the left, in the front part of the building, there was a 
large fireplace with almost a dozen couches to the sides and in 
front of it. None of the couches matched each other, and must've 
all been donated to the camp. Behind the couches, and past the 
game tables--on the other side of the wall next to the bathing 
area--were all sorts of tables and chairs.

On the far side of the back wall was the kitchen. The kitchen 
area was fronted by a long counter, with curtained-off storage 
space underneath it. Behind the counter, on the back wall, there 
was a row of stoves, followed by several sinks, each separated by 
about a foot of counter. On the back of the bathroom sink wall, 
there were refrigerators. All told, there were probably a dozen 
stoves and half as many large sinks, as well as at least eight 
refrigerators.

Each family brought a couple of baskets (we used laundry baskets) 
full of food and drinks. Everyone picked out their own area under 
the counter and in the refrigerators, and it was mostly on the 
honor system. There were no names on stuff in the refrigerators, 
but most everyone had their family name on the food baskets 
stored under the counters. You just knew where your stuff was, 
and anything that wasn't your stuff, you left alone.

Out the far side door of the clubhouse, the one opposite the side 
door near the road, was a large patio with steps leading down to 
the shuffleboard and volleyball areas. Out the "front" door of 
the clubhouse, in the wall opposite the kitchen area, there was a 
grassy lawn that stretched all the way down the hill, to the 
lake.

That was the world of Aunt Susan's camp, and my family was there 
for the entire summer. We pulled up to our new home away from 
home and all of us got out to stretch, stiff from the long drive 
from Atlanta. We also wanted to look at the cabin's 
accommodations.

The cabin that we'd gotten was quite a bit larger than the motel-
style room we usually stayed in, but it was still small. It still 
had the bunk beds, and one queen-sized bed, but it also had a 
cloth-covered couch and a pair of easy chairs. And best of all, 
it had a small but private bathroom, complete with a bathtub and 
hot water (courtesy of a small water heater in a closet on the 
back wall). The front of the cabin was a covered porch, with a 
pair of rocking chairs flanking the entrance. Inside, it was 
really one big room; the bunk beds were immediately on the left, 
the larger bed in the left rear corner, the bathroom in the right 
rear corner, and the sitting area off to the right of the door.

Once we'd scouted out the inside of the cabin--a tour that took 
all of 30 seconds--we began to unload Mom's station wagon. We 
unloaded our folding lawn chairs and loungers first, and stacked 
them up on the front porch of the cabin. Next came the two large 
bags with bedding and pillows, bath towels, and the family's 
beach towels. And finally, we unloaded our travel bags stuffed 
with flip-flops, bathroom stuff and other vacation items every 
nudist family needs (Frisbees, swim fins, masks and snorkels, and 
various other goodies).

Dad then drove us all down to the clubhouse to unload the food 
and drinks. When we got there, it was late in the afternoon, and 
there were few people around; mostly older couples who were year-
round residents. Mom and Dad said hello to most of them as Erin 
and I began lugging in the baskets of food and drinks.

Her greetings finished, Mom came over to the kitchen area to 
supervise our unloading, and to claim an area under the counter 
and in one of the refrigerators. Mom would periodically have to 
drive back into town to shop for more groceries, but for the time 
being, we were set.

Once all the unloading was completed at the clubhouse, we all 
piled back into the car and drove back up the hill to the cabin. 
Dad parked the car around behind the cabin while Mom, Erin, and I 
all went inside to unpack.

Erin and I opened our suitcases and simply dumped the contents on 
our bunk beds. By long tradition, I took the top bunk, and I 
simply slung my suitcase up there after extracting my towel and 
flip-flops. Erin was doing much the same thing.

The unpacking completed finally, we all shed our clothes. After 
we'd gotten our clothes off, Erin and I made a beeline for the 
screen door. Mom called out from across the room, where she was 
unpacking on the larger bed.

"Whoa! Stop!"

Erin and I pulled up short of the door and looked back at Mom.

"Paul, come here," she said, extracting the sun block from one of 
her bags. "You go on, Erin."

I sighed and started walking towards her. It was a familiar 
routine, and while I hated getting a sunburn, I also really 
wanted to get down to play in the lake. When I got to her, I 
turned around to present my back and shoulders. Erin gave me a 
nasty-little-sister, triumphant smirk and bolted through the 
screen door.

She always tanned better than I did, and _never_ got sunburned. 
Sometimes, there ain't no justice!

Mom squirted the cool cream on my back and shoulders and began to 
rub it in. She rubbed down the tops of my arms as I obediently 
stood before her. When she was done, she closed the top of the 
brown bottle and swatted me on the behind.

"Go on, have fun!"

I raced out the screen door, with a quick "thanks Mom," thrown 
over my shoulder as I went.

-----

The first week of summer went by quickly as Erin and I swam in 
the lake, played volleyball with the grown-ups, and generally had 
fun. While there were a fair number of people at the camp, not 
many of our friends' families had shown up yet. We decided that 
things would pick up in a week or so, and the year-round 
residents confirmed our suspicions.

About that time, my father had to take the car and drive into 
Columbia so he could catch a flight back to Atlanta and fly two 
weeks' worth of trips. Mom put on her clothes and drove to town 
to pick up enough groceries to tide us over for a week. She'd 
have to go to the grocery store again before Dad returned with 
the station wagon, but she could make the trip with one of the 
other women from the camp.

When she returned, Dad was almost ready to leave. He'd brought 
along his travel suitcase, his Jepps case--the case with all his 
airport maps, flight patterns, and radio frequency information--
and his uniform. Erin and I got there right as Mom pulled up, 
just as Dad was getting dressed and ready to go.

Erin hugged him goodbye, and when she released him, Dad held out 
his hand to me. I reached out and took it, his larger hand 
enfolding my own. Dad tightened his grip as he shook my hand, but 
then he pulled me close and wrapped his other arm around me in a 
hug. He released me and gently pushed me back with a hand on my 
shoulder.

Dad looked down at me with a serious expression. "Take care of 
your mom and your sister."

"I will, Dad." I blushed and smiled, lowering my head in 
embarrassment.

"I know you will, Paul," he said as he squeezed my shoulder. "You 
and Erin run along now. Your mom's going to help me finish 
packing."

I heard Erin escape out the screen door behind me, surely headed 
for the lake, and I turned to leave myself. I ran down the sandy 
track towards the clubhouse, having already lost sight of Erin. I 
decided to detour through the clubhouse to get a cold Coke first.

While I was walking back towards "our" refrigerator, I noticed a 
cap and sunglasses on one of the tables. They looked a lot like 
the ball cap and glasses my Dad wore, and as I got closer to 
them, I realized that they were indeed his. I knew he'd need his 
sunglasses for when he was flying, so I scooped them up and raced 
back up the hill to catch him before he left.

On the way up the hill, I slowed down and approached the back 
corner of the cabin. The station wagon was parked behind the 
cabin, and I pulled up just short of the corner. There were a 
fair number of bushes growing around the back of the cabin, so I 
couldn't see the car yet, but I could hear my mom and dad 
talking. I paused for a second to listen, before going around the 
corner. I don't know what made me stop, but I'm glad I did.

"Do you have a few minutes?" Mom asked.

I knew Dad must have been looking at his watch, since I heard him 
pause before answering.

"It'll take me 3 hours to get to Columbia, and I've got a 4:18 
show-time for the flight to Atlanta, so I'm pretty tight as 
things stand," Dad replied.

"You can spare a few minutes."

I decided to peek around the corner at this point. Normally, I 
didn't spy on my parents, but I heard something in my mom's 
voice. At 15, I couldn't tell what it was, but it tickled the 
back of my brain and my curiosity rode roughshod over my manners.

While the bushes and the shadow of the cabin screened _me_ from 
view, I had a decent view of the two of them through the 
branches. The front door of the station wagon was open, and Dad 
was standing next to it. Mom had her arms around him, and was 
looking up at him as she talked.

They were an interesting sight; my tall father in his dark blue 
uniform trousers and white uniform shirt, and my much-shorter 
mother, with her already bronze-tanned and nude body pressed 
against him, her breasts flattened against his stomach.

"Beth, I can't miss the flight to Atlanta. I've got to go," my 
father insisted.

"You can make the time up on the road," Mom said as I watched her 
slowly sink to her knees.

I'd never before witnessed a blowjob, but as I watched Mom unzip 
Dad's trousers, I felt my penis stiffen instantly at the 
realization of what she was going to do.

"Beth, I need to go, honey," my father protested. Despite his 
verbal protests, however, he didn't make a move to stop her.

Mom's face was level with his crotch; she had gotten his zipper 
down and was reaching her right hand into his pants. In a second, 
she withdrew my father's flaccid penis, and released it to hang 
limply from the fly of his pants. She looked up into his eyes and 
I could see her smile. Then she ducked her head slightly to come 
up from underneath, opened her mouth, and engulfed the head of 
his soft dick.

She sucked gently on the head for a few seconds, and I saw her 
cheeks cave in as she applied suction to him. Dad's penis 
stiffened rapidly and Mom put her hands on his hips as she 
released his manhood. My own penis throbbed in reminder as I 
watched the scene in front of me. I shifted the ball cap and 
sunglasses to my left hand, knelt on my right knee, and grasped 
my own erection.

I turned my attention back to my kneeling mother as she tilted 
her head to the side and ran her tongue along the underside of 
Dad's hard dick. He sucked in air through his clenched teeth as 
she nipped at the underside of the crown of his cock and then 
quickly wrapped her lips around the tip.

Mom then opened her mouth further and impaled herself on Dad's 
erection. Her lips closed halfway down his length, and she made 
eye contact with him again. I could swear she was smiling, 
wickedly, as she slowly drew her lips back along the length of 
his shaft.

Once her lips came to the crown of his dick, she opened them wide 
again and thrust her head forward, taking him deeper this time. 
Dad lolled his head back and groaned as she sucked back along his 
length again.

When she pulled back again, she let his entire saliva-coated dick 
spring free of her grasping lips. She kissed the tip of his penis 
and then began planting kisses down the length of the underside. 
Once she reached his trousers and the limit of his exposed 
manhood, she kissed her way back to the tip.

I watched as she tightened her grip on his hips and opened her 
mouth to receive his cock again. She spread her lips and pulled 
his hips forward, thrusting my dad's stiff prick into her hungry 
mouth.

I was stroking my erection gently, trying to keep quiet so as not 
to give myself away. I knelt, transfixed by the sight of her 
sucking his dick, and quietly rubbed my own dick in time to Mom's 
motions.

I watched as she began to bob her head back and forth in earnest, 
concentrating on making him come. As she sucked him furiously, I 
sped up the pace of my stroking as well. Mom moved her hands back 
to grasp my father's trouser-covered ass cheeks as she repeatedly 
impaled her mouth on his glistening shaft. She had her eyes 
closed as she concentrated fully on making him come.

My hand was a blur of motion, stroking my young penis furiously. 
I watched, hypnotized by the sight of Mom's cheeks and lips as 
she bobbed her head back and forth. She would suck back until 
just the head of his cock was in her mouth, then open her lips 
slightly and thrust her head forward until he was more than 
halfway in her mouth. When she stopped moving forward she would 
clamp her lips about his shaft and repeat the motion.

As she rocked back and forth, sucking his cock, her breasts 
swayed from side to side with the rhythmic motion, and I was 
fascinated by the entire scene. She stroked his hard cock like 
that with her lips and tongue for what seemed like forever, but 
was probably no more than a few minutes.

Suddenly, Dad leaned forward and put both hands on the back of 
Mom's head. He held her still as he thrust his hips forward, 
hard, and forced still more of his erection into her mouth. Then 
he stiffened and held very still, groaning deep in his chest. I 
could tell he was pumping his seed down her throat; she was 
taking it, her lips locked around the shaft of his manhood so 
that only a few inches remained outside her mouth. She held on to 
his ass tightly, holding him deep in her throat as he spurted.

As I felt my come rising, I nearly panicked for a moment, 
wondering where to shoot. With a barely stifled groan of my own, 
I simply aimed my cock away from the cabin as I felt my balls 
finally boil over. My young cock spurted so hard that I thought 
the glistening, pearly drops must have hit the back of the 
station wagon from where I knelt in the bushes.

Wonderful, intense pleasure surged up my shaft and through my 
groin, into my belly, as I ejaculated powerfully. I watched, 
rapt, as Mom slowly withdrew his penis from her mouth, swallowing 
as his length slipped from the back of her throat.

My father's spurts had subsided, as had my own, and Mom let his 
slowly deflating cock slip from her lips entirely. She swallowed 
again and breathed a deep sigh, breathing heavily from the 
intensity of having his prick buried so deeply.

My own gushing penis had spewed my semen all over the leaves of 
the bush I knelt behind, and I realized with a start that I had 
better vacate my hidey-hole or risk discovery. I cleaned off the 
head of my still-erect penis as best I could and slowly, quietly, 
I backed away from the corner where I had witnessed (and 
experienced) such pleasure.

As I approached the front corner of the cabin, I realized that I 
still had my father's ball cap and aviator's sunglasses clutched 
in my left hand. I quickly decided to run down the hill a little 
ways, and then come back up, as if I had just returned.

As I was coming back up the hill towards the cabin, I called out 
to them, to give them some warning that I was coming. When I 
rounded the corner of the cabin, my mom had just gotten to her 
feet. I saw fleeting guilty-but-don't-let-it-show looks cross 
both my parents' faces. Thankfully, Dad's trousers were zipped 
up, but I noticed Mom's lips and face were still red with 
exertion, and both her knees were sandy from where she'd knelt 
before my dad only a minute before. I saw my Mom's eyes drop 
questioningly to my own recently abused (but now thankfully 
flaccid) penis. She quickly drew her eyes back up, but I'd caught 
the curious look on her face before she suppressed it.

I ran up to my Dad, and handed him his glasses and cap.

"You forgot these, Dad. Gotta go! Have a good trip!"

Then I bolted.

As I turned the corner and started to jog down the hill, I heard 
my mother say, "What's gotten into him?"

I didn't hear my father's reply as I broke into a run, headed for 
the clubhouse.

I wanted the Coke that I'd gone in there to get in the first 
place.

-----

That night, I lay on the top bunk with a million thoughts running 
through my mind. In my mind's eye, I kept replaying scenes of Mom 
sucking Dad's dick. As I lay on my back and thought of my 
beautiful mom on her knees, my prick quickly became erect and 
made a tent under the sheet.

I had always thought my mother was pretty, but until today I'd 
never really thought of her in a sexual way. I was embarrassed 
and excited at the same time. I replayed the whole series of 
events in my mind; the sight of Mom's lips locked around his 
shaft, her cheeks bulging as she swallowed his length, the sway 
of her breasts as she bobbed back and forth, the lust-filled 
expression on her face as she made eye contact with him. All 
these sights and more filled my adolescent mind, and I slowly 
slid my hand under the covers to grasp my swollen manhood.

As I wrapped my fingers around my cock and began to stroke slowly 
and quietly, I imagined what Mom would look like kneeling in 
front of me, looking up at me, her mouth open to accept my penis. 
My arousal had overcome my shame at my incestuous thoughts, and 
my hand built speed and increased the pressure on my young dick.

Thankfully, the bunk beds were sturdy and well built, and didn't 
creak or sway with my furious motion. In the dark of our little 
cabin, with my sister asleep on the lower bunk and my mother in 
the bed in the corner, I masturbated furiously, all the while 
thinking of my mother's lips wrapped around my erection.

I knew I was about to come, and frantically searched for 
somewhere to shoot. At home, I had a box of tissues next to my 
bed, but there was nothing within reach here, except the sheets. 
I didn't want to come on my sheets (and have to sleep the rest of 
the night in my own semen), so I stripped the top sheet off my 
body as I finally ran out of time.

With a rush of pleasure and a stifled groan, I came. I felt my 
hot seed geyser into the air and land on my bare chest and 
stomach. Spurt after spurt coursed through my penis as droplets 
landed on my stomach. With one final thrust of my hips, the 
spurting dwindled to a trickling and I relaxed my tensed leg and 
back muscles. I lay there quietly, clutching my erection in the 
dark, my own semen slowly cooling on my chest and stomach.

I listened for any sign of movement in the cabin. My blood was 
pounding in my ears, and my chest was heaving as I tried to gulp 
air as quietly as I could; I strained to pick out any sign that 
I'd been caught. When I heard none, I quietly rolled towards the 
ladder, being careful not to get any of my sperm on the sheets. I 
climbed down and quietly padded on bare feet towards the 
bathroom.

Thank goodness for having a cabin with a private bathroom! I shut 
the door as quietly as I could--holding the knob turned so the 
latch wouldn't click--and flicked on the overhead light. Looking 
at myself in the mirror over the basin, I saw the white semen 
where it had begin to run down my hairless chest and stomach. 
There were pearly drops of my seed in my dark pubic hair as well, 
and I pulled a washcloth from the towel bar and began the task of 
cleaning myself.

After I was done, I rinsed the washcloth in the sink and hung it 
back on the bar to dry. I turned out the light, and opened the 
door as quietly as I could. As I crept back to the ladder to the 
top bunk, my mother's sleepy voice startled me.

"Are you okay, honey?"

I was so keyed up that I nearly jumped out of my skin at the 
sound of her voice. My eyes hadn't adjusted from the brightness 
of the light in the bathroom, but I could imagine her leaning up 
on one elbow, the sheet having slipped from her shoulders, with 
her tanned breasts gleaming in the pale moonlight streaming 
through the window. Despite the fact that I'd just come once, I 
felt my penis quickly fill with blood and stand out at right 
angles to my body.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. I just wanted a drink of water," I lied.

I heard her catch her breath, and I knew she must've seen my 
erection. "Okay, honey, sleep tight," she said quietly, not 
saying anything about my sudden hard-on.

"Thanks Mom," I said as I turned half away from her to find the 
ladder and climb up to my bunk.

I lay awake for a little while longer, while my eyes slowly 
adjusted to the dim light filtering in from the outside. My 
erection had subsided a little, but not much, and I tried to 
think about anything but sex. But every time I'd try not to think 
about it, I'd picture my mom kneeling before my dad with his dick 
in her mouth. And I imagined the expression of lust on her face 
as she sucked him. I knew Mom wasn't fully asleep yet, so I dared 
not masturbate again.

I rolled over on my side and looked down at the bed that my 
mother occupied alone. In the moonlight, now that my eyes had 
adjusted, I could clearly see her; the covers had indeed slipped 
from her chest, and I looked down at her breasts where they had 
flattened and bulged to her sides as she lay on her back. I knew 
that if I could see that well, Mom certainly could've seen my 
erection as I passed only a few feet in front of her on the way 
back from the bathroom.

In time, I heard her turn over in bed. I looked down and saw that 
she had pulled her sheets up over her bare shoulders. My thoughts 
finally turned from sex as I got drowsy, and my erection subsided 
enough that I fell asleep.

-----

The next morning, I woke up before Mom and Erin, and rolled to 
the side of the top bunk. During the warm South Carolina night, 
Mom had kicked her covers free, and from my vantage point, I had 
an excellent view of her nude body. I blinked my sleep-crusted 
eyes a few times to clear them and took in the sight below me.

Of course, I had seen my mother nude before. But I'd never really 
looked at her. Now, I looked at her body with a new appreciation, 
and once again I was both excited and ashamed. Her body was the 
same body that I'd seen nude almost every day for the past three 
summers. But now I saw her in a new way. A _sexual_ way.

Consciously, I knew my parents had sex, but I'd never thought 
much about it. Now, I did. I wondered how else they did it. A 
million fantasy images flashed through my overactive teenage 
imagination. My experience with sex, until the day before, had 
been a few Playboy magazines I'd seen with a friend from my 
neighborhood, crouched in the woods behind our house.

Of course, I knew about what a blowjob was. But knowing what it 
was and seeing it done, especially with the enthusiasm my mom 
displayed, were two entirely different matters. Those thoughts 
faded, however, as I felt my penis stiffen and I turned my 
attention back to my mom's nude body.

The light from the rising sun filtered through the pine trees, 
and even though the inside of the cabin was still dim, I could 
see her body quite clearly. Knowing she couldn't bust me for 
staring, I did just that. My glance lingered on her breasts--her 
nipples crinkly and erect in the morning air--and then slowly 
slid lower towards her dark tuft of pubic hair.

Her legs were spread slightly, and I got a good look at her 
exposed pussy. Her pubic hair was very sparse around her labia 
and I could tell that her lips were a dark pink color. I marveled 
at the slit of her pussy from where it peeked out at me.
 
I had just moved my hand down to grasp my erection when the 
silence of the cabin was broken by my mother yawning. She raised 
one of her arms and laid it on her forehead as her other hand 
groped for the sheet tangled under her. I watched in dismay as 
she freed the sheet and pulled it over her. Then, yawning again, 
her eyes blinked open. I quietly rolled over, onto my stomach, my 
erection pressed up against my abdomen, and looked over the side 
of the bed.

I watched as my mom brought her other hand up and rubbed her eyes 
with the tips of her fingers. I could see her staring at the 
ceiling of the cabin as she took another deep breath and sat up. 
The sheet slipped from her breasts as her eyes met mine.

"Morning, sweet pea," she said quietly, and smiled.

I just nodded, returning the smile.

"Did you get back to sleep okay last night?"

I nodded again.

"You okay?" she asked, concern at my lack of speech tingeing her 
voice.

I nodded again and smiled.

"Just don't feel like talking this morning?" she asked with a 
touch of amused sympathy.

I shook my head.

"You know what you want for breakfast?" She lowered the sheet and 
levered her legs over the edge of the bed, still looking at me.

I shook my head again, enjoying not talking, and enjoying the 
laughter in my mom's eyes as she played my little game with me.

"How about pancakes?"

I nodded enthusiastically, smiling at her reaction.

Talking about breakfast, I realized how hungry I was. 
Additionally, the thought of breakfast banished all thoughts of 
sex from my head, and my erection shrank. I rolled over, kicked 
my feet to the ladder, and began to climb down. While my penis 
was no longer fully erect, it was still semi-hard. As I climbed 
down the ladder front-ways, it swayed from side to side with each 
rung. When I got to the cabin floor, I looked up at mom. She was 
still sitting on the side of her bed, and she was staring at my 
penis! When I reached the bottom of the ladder, however, she 
quickly looked away and stood.

"Let Erin sleep, and I'll be down to the clubhouse to fix 
breakfast in a few minutes," she said over her shoulder as she 
headed across the small cabin towards the bathroom.

I opened the cabin door and pushed open the screen door. My dick 
was still tumescent as I scooped up my towel from where it was 
hanging on the porch rail, let the screen door slam shut (so much 
for sleeping late, my pesky little sister), and trotted down the 
hill towards the clubhouse.

-----

Copyright (c) 2002 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

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