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Message-ID: <47468asstr$1081980604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: chaucer48@earthlink.net (Chaucer48)
Subject: {ASSM} WILDERNESS CAMP a short story by Geoff Chaucer (voy, ped Mffff)
Lines: 310
Date: Wed, 14 Apr 2004 18:10:04 -0400
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     This story contains descriptions of a sexual nature and may not be
suitable for people under the age of eighteen, twenty-one in some states.  If
you are offended by, or too young for such a story please stop reading now.  
     This story is copyrighted and my not be re-printed without specific
permission of the author
     This story contains no violence, blood, gore, decapitation, evisceration
or other horror therefore it is not suitable for American television where
Charles Manson gets a small warning that it may not be suitable, but Janet
Jackson's breast throws the whole country into a fit of outrage.  
     As with all my other stories I welcome, nay solicit comments.  Feel free
to send them to chaucer48@earthlink.net




                                  WILDERNESS CAMP

     I found that I needed to be alone.  I mean really alone, so I threw some
gear into a back pack and took myself high into the Sierras to a fair sized
lake so isolated that it could only be reached by foot or horse.  By foot it
was a two day journey.
     I had been to this lake several times and had never seen sign of another
human being, so I was surprised when I returned from a fishing expedition my
third afternoon and spotted a ribbon of smoke on the still air across the lake
from my camp.  I got out my binoculars, grumbling about my shattered solitude,
and checked out my new neighbors.
     My heart skipped and a micro-shock exploded behind my balls. My neighbors
were a troop of Camper Girls and, like me, they thought they were alone.  I
knew that because all of them, including the three leaders, were skinny dipping
in the cold lake.
     I counted ten girls ranging in age from about ten to fifteen or sixteen. 
Behind them, up the bank in a small meadow, they had set up five two man tents
and a slightly larger tent which I assumed was for the leaders.
     My binoculars made the naked girls seem to be right in front of me, but
they were really about a half mile away.  My camp was back from the edge of the
lake and so was hidden from their view.  If I was careful they would never know
I was there.
     As I watched, one of the girls, perhaps eleven or twelve,  white-blond,
and just beginning to blossom into womanhood, skipped up out of the water and
ran up the bank and into the edge of the woods, perhaps a hundred yards from
the beach.  I followed her with my glasses as she went to a trench latrine. 
Facing me she placed her feet one on each side of the trench and squatted.  Her
knees were wide open and I could see her pussy as though it were inches from my
face.  There were only a few wisps of pubic hair on her mons and a little fine
fuzz on her outside pussy lips.  Her mons had a puffy, swollen look to it and
the slit was tight, barely pulled open to show a glimpse of virginal pink inner
lips.
     I moved my glasses up for a moment.  Her eyes were light blue and she was
smiling.  There was a dusting of freckles across her nose.  Her breasts were
hardly more than pancake thick risings on her chest, but her nipples were rosy
and the aureoles were domed as though someone had been suckling them.
     Her face took on a look mixed of pleasure, release, and concentration as
she peed a golden stream that sparkled like yellow diamonds in the afternoon
sun.  The stream stopped, but she didn't rise.  Instead her expression took on
more of a concentrated look for a second, then a slight grimace of strain
pulled up the corners of her mouth.  A dark brown turd appeared and pushed out
of her bowels in a long smooth little log.  A moment later her anal muscles
flexed, squeezing the turd off and letting it drop into the latrine trench. 
She strained a little more and squeezed out a couple more little pats, then she
took the roll of toilet paper from where it hung on a stick planted in the
ground beside the trench, unwrapped a few sheets and wiped herself clean. She
wiped by putting her hand behind her and dragging the wad of paper from the
bottom junction of her pussy lips toward the base of her spine.  She repeated
the process a couple of times then wrapped off a few more sheets and dried her
pussy, putting the little wad between the outer lips and making one stroke from
clit to anus.
     My cock throbbed as I watched.  I could not believe what I had just seen,
nor could I believe that there were thirteen naked females cavorting on the
beach just for me.

     A breeze came up after I had been watching for perhaps an hour.  The wind
chilled the naked bodies and they all got out and dried off.  I paid particular
attention to one of the counselors.  She was small and dark haired with a thick
pubic bush that hid the slit of her pussy.  Her breasts were not large, but
they were well proportioned as was the width of her hips. As she dried herself
it seemed to me she was rubbing her nipples more than necessary.  They were
small and pointed and dark cinnamon color.  She kept glancing around and
stalling as though waiting for the others to leave the beach.  When they did
she made her way to the latrine trench and squatted. 
     I could not think why she had waited for the others to leave, and then I
noticed that the trench was screened from the camp by some bushes.  The others
couldn't see her now.
     Modest, I thought and smiled as I watched her stream of urine squirt out
of her thick mat of black pubic hair.  That hair ran in a thin line from her
navel down to the widening triangle on her mons, and continued on between her
legs.  I couldn't see the outside lips of her pussy because of it, but the
blackness of it set off her inner lips.  They were pink and thin and flaccid,
hanging on either side of her vaginal opening.  I'll bet they swell like my
dick when she gets excited, I thought.  I wonder which one is her kid.
     She unwrapped a few sheets of toilet paper and dried her pussy, but, as
when she was drying her nipples, it seemed she was rubbing more than was
needed.  After a moment she dropped the wad of paper, but she didn't rise. 
Instead she brought her hand back down between her legs and slowly stroked her
finger from her anus up between the lips to her clit.  When she touched her
little pleasure nub she shivered with the feeling.  She flicked her finger back
and forth across her clit several times, but then she stopped and moved her
fingers back down toward her anus.  She stopped at her womb opening and teased
herself with her finger tips.  Her inside pussy lips were doing just what I had
thought they would.  They were swelling and getting deeper pink and pulling
away from the opening; inviting an erect cock to slide between them.  But there
was no cock closer than mine, a half mile away across the lake, and she didn't
know  it was there, so the lady brought her two middle fingers together and
pushed them into herself with a shudder of pleasure.  
     I couldn't stand it any longer.  I opened my pants and began slowly
stroking myself as I watched her pleasuring herself.
     She pushed her middle fingers into herself past the second knuckle, and
her thumb pressed against her clit.  She rolled her thumb round and round,
pushing her clit against her pubic bone, sending shivers of pleasure through
herself.  I could see her moving her fingers back and forth in a sawing sort of
motion.  She must have been pressing and rubbing them against the thickening of
her G Spot inside her pussy.  I could see the growing tension in her as she
masturbated.  The corded muscles of her thighs showed through the layer of
feminine flesh and her bottom flexors twitched.  Her face was a study in the
transport of pleasure; head back, eyes closed, lips slightly open and puckered
as if waiting for a kiss.  In a moment I saw the tension peak.  She jammed her
fingers deep into herself and squeezed her clit hard against her pubic bone
with her thumb.  A gush of pearly liquid, that looked almost like my own cum
washed out over her fingers and dripped into the latrine trench.  Every muscle
in her body was flexed with pleasure, and, as the gush of liquid left her pussy
to drench her hand, a spurt of cum jetted from my cock like a geyser.

     I ate cold MRE's that night so as not to take the chance of the Camper
Girls spotting my fire.  They were all clothed against the chill of the
evening, but the next morning several of them were up for an early dip.  By a
trick of the weather the sound of their voices came to me across the lake.  So
I heard when one of the leaders called them to breakfast.  I ate my own cold
MRE's and waited, wondering if my luck was finished.
     After breakfast the leaders told the girls that they were going on a
scavenger hunt.  They were to pair up, go out into the woods and bring back the
things on the lists the leader
handed them.  I decided that I was not going to see anything interesting until
the afternoon heat, when they might all go swimming again so I quietly packed
up my fishing gear and set off.

     My luck was lousy with the fish.  Not so with the girls.  I had been
fishing several hours on my side of the lake when a crackling in the brush on
the other side caught my attention.
     The lake was much narrower there.  The other bank was no more than a
hundred yards away, and I worried that whoever was making the noise might be
able to see me, but I was dressed in camo clothes and when I heard the noise I
ducked back up the bank and flattened myself on the ground in the protection of
the trees.  I needn't have worried.  It took another five minutes for them to
reach the shore, and I was thoroughly hidden by then.  I had brought my
binoculars just in case.  Now I was very glad.  I lifted them up and focused
toward the noise.
     As I had thought, it was a pair of the Camper Girls.
I had noticed them the afternoon before, but, with all the delicious feminine
flesh around I was already up against my sexual overload barriers so I hadn't
paid that much attention to them.  Now I did.
     They were dressed in shorts, tee shirts and hiking boots with sock tops
turned down over the tops.  They were thirteen or fourteen and just at that
coltish stage where they are all legs and arms and possessed of an unconscious
grace that makes any man sigh to himself.  One was auburn haired with a few
freckles on her nose.  The other had black hair, cut prince Valiant style which
accented her graceful neck, and smooth white skin, just a little tinted with
exposure to the sun.
     "Did you bring some TP Trish?" the girl with auburn hair said.  Her voice
was a smooth soprano which carried across the short stretch of water as if
amplified.
    "No.  I didn't think we would be out this long.  Old lady Fenster's list is
a lot harder than I though it would be."  Trish answered.  Her voice was a
velvety contralto that stroked itself over my member like a tongue.
     "I need to piss real bad!"  The other said, the vulgarity sounding false,
unpracticed, in her mouth.
     "So piss." 
     Distaste crossed her face.  "I hate to not wipe."
     "So wash it and then dry with your shirt or something."
     "Huh?"
     "Here, watch," said Trish, her voice touched with superiority.  She
plopped herself down on the narrow sandy beach and pulled off her boots, then
her shorts, white panties, tee shirt and bra.  Her knees were up and open so
that I could see her pussy.  There was some black curly hair on the triangle of
her mons and some upon the lips, but it was still soft and wispy.  She lifted
herself to a squat and peed a golden stream.  I could hear the hiss as the
liquid squirted out of her, and the patter-plop as the drops hit the sand.  My
mouth went dry and my balls went tingly.  I could almost taste her bitter-salty
pee on my tongue.
     When the stream stopped she rose and took the three steps needed to bring
her into the edge of the water, lifted her arms above her head and knifed into
the water.  Her long white body shimmered beneath the lake's surface.  When her
glide slowed she turned on her back, then kicked her feet down and under to
take a stroke back toward shore.  Her buttocks and the backs of her thighs
flexed and relaxed as she kicked.  She put her feet down and stood up, back too
me.  The water was only knee deep and she walked out of it, hips swaying a
little as the water dragged at her legs.
     "Like that," she said, a grin in her voice.
     "You didn't wash it very good," the other, still dressed, answered.
     "You just want to see me rub my clitty," Trish laughed.
     The other girl blushed.  "I don't either. . ."
     "Then let me watch you rub yours."
     "Trish!"
     "Cathy!"  the other mocked.  "Are you gonna pee or what?"
Trish asked, coming out of the water and plopping her self down on the sand. 
She leaned back on her elbows pointing her firm little breasts at the sun.
     Cathy thought about it for a moment then began to untie her boots.  In a
moment she was naked too.  Trish's body was luscious but not fully formed yet. 
Her breasts were still only risings upon her chest with small nipples.  Cathy's
body was complete.  Her breasts were large and heavy enough to droop when she
freed them from her bra, and her pubis was covered with a thatch of auburn
curls a little darker than the hair of her head.  When she squatted my
binoculars showed me that perhaps Trish's suggestion had been taken more
seriously than the joking tone had made me think.  Just above the golden stream
the nub of Cathy's clit stuck out from the little boat shaped nest of flesh. 
It seemed a little too red and swollen.  The inner lips of her pussy were
swelling a little too.  They were pushing the fleshy outer lips open.  I moved
my binoculars up to her breasts.  Sure enough, her nipples were hardened and
sticking out, and the aureoles were crinkled as though chilled, but the sun was
warm.
    Cathy rose and dived into the water.  When she returned toward the shore
she stopped, back too me, at the same knee deep place Trish had stopped.  "See,
you've gotta really wash it Trish.  Like this."  She bent over, scooped up a
handful of water, bent her knees and scrubbed her pussy.
     "As long as you're in there you might as well douche too," Trish, said
laughing, but her voice had gotten throatier and her nipples were crinkly and
pointed.
     Cathy squatted into the water then rose.  Her bottom cheeks flexed and
pressed so tight together I couldn't have put a dime between them.  She flexed
and loosened her pelvic muscles a few times then spread her legs in a half
squat and let go.  The water she had drawn into her pussy gushed out, running
down the insides of her thighs. 
     My cock had been raging hard for a long time.  Now, seeing this, I had to
release myself.  My balls were aching and my erection was throbbing.  
     Cathy dipped herself into the water again and I thought she was going to
repeat the act, but when she rose she just walked out of the water.  But she
walked in an odd, knock kneed way.  She walked to Trish and stood over her.
     "You want some?"  Cathy asked.
     "Some what?"
     "This!"  Cathy shouted and stepped across Trish's face, and let go the
strain of her pelvis.  The water she had drawn into herself gushed out and
splashed on Trish's face and chest.
     "You Bitch!"  Trish screamed and sat up.  She threw her arms around Cathy
and grabbed her bottom cheeks.  She pressed her face into Cathy's auburn curled
delta.
     "OWW!" Cathy cried.  "Don't bite me!"
     Trish's hands kneaded the other's ass, her fingers slipping into the
crack.  Cathy groaned, but not with pain.  
     Trish pulled her head back.  "Is that better?" She asked.
     "Yes.  Lick it again."
     "Lay down."
     Cathy hurried to do as she was told.  She lay on her back with her knees
up and open.  Trish lay down on her stomach between the opened legs and, as
though she knew I was watching, moved aside just a little so that I could see
as she ran the pointed tip of her tongue from the terracotta pucker of Cathy's
anus to the erect nub of her clit.
     After a few more strokes of her tongue Trish centered her tongue on
Cathy's clit, circling round and round, then back and forth.
     Cathy moaned and the sound of it knifed through me.  I opened my pants and
struggled to get my raging hard erection out of my jockey shorts.
     Trish didn't only work with her tongue now.  She began running the tip of
her left hand index finger around the opening of Cathy's womb.
     "No Trish.  Don't."
     "I won't hurt you.  I promise."
     "But it's so tight!" 
     "I won't hurt you.  If it's too tight I'll stop, but let me try, OK?"
     Cathy was panting as though she had just run five miles. "OK!  OK!  Go
ahead."
     Trish teased the opening and eased her finger in to the first knuckle. 
She never stopped caressing the button of Cathy's clit with her tongue.  Her
saliva was mixing with Cathy's pussy nectar, and it dripped from her chin onto
her hand, lubricating her circling finger.
     Trish grew tired of lying flat on her stomach and rose to her knees.  Her
head stayed down so that she could continue licking Cathy's dripping pussy, but
her bottom was up in the air, her legs were open for balance.  Her position
opened the globes of her bottom showing me the flower of her anus and the
opening into her womb.  Her pussy was almost as wet as was Cathy's, lacking
only the mixture of saliva.  The shiny lubricant had run down the insides of
her thighs and the soft curls of her pubic hair were wet with it.  They glued
themselves to her pussy lips as though they had been painted there.  The two
were so soaked with sex a vagrant breeze brought the rich sea smell of their
femininity to me.  My mouth watered for the salty sweet, slipperiness of them. 

     Trish brought her right hand up between her own legs, and pushed the
middle two fingers into herself, like the woman at the latrine trench, while
her circling finger slipped deeper into Cathy.  It was past the second knuckle
and now Trish added her second finger to the first.  The opening was wide
enough now that Cathy didn't notice the addition.  She was panting and moaning
and her hips humped toward Trish's tongue, which pushed the probing fingers
deeper.  "Oh God!" she moaned.  "Don't stop! Please don't stop!"
     Trish didn't stop.  She curled her tongue faster around Cathy's clit and
she hooked her penetrating fingers in such a way that she massaged the pleasure
center inside.  She moved her fingers in and out more and more quickly, keeping
time with her circling tongue.
     Cathy could not take more than a few moments of this.  Her climax started
near her navel, her muscles clenching in the bone shaking rhythm.  It was like
waves which ran down her belly and spine to crash together like opposing ocean
breakers at her pussy.  Her womb clenched tight around Trish's fingers and a
tiny squirt of sexual honey squeezed out.
     Trish was still jamming her fingers deep into herself, sawing them back
and forth, and at the same time rolling her slippery clit beneath her thumb. 
When Cathy climaxed Trish moved her tongue down from the button of her clit to
the opening so that she could taste the oozing juice better.  The taste was all
it took.  Trish began a shuddering groaning climax that shook her whole body. 
Her pussy opening clamped down tight on her two fingers and the shudders made
the rosy pink cheeks of her ass vibrate.  The curved hamstring muscles of her
thighs flexed and shuddered.  A gush of love honey squirted from her pussy to
add to the wetness already running down the insides of her thighs.
     Seeing, hearing, smelling!  I had only to stroke my fingers across my
glans once to bring on my own shuddering, spurting climax.
     
     Back at my camp I watched the Camper Girls swim in the heat of the
afternoon.  The heavy air was still once more, and I could hear nothing, but,
after their swim, I began seeing back packs.  They were loading up, preparing
to depart the next morning.  I watched, feeling sad and empty.  I had come to
be alone, and now that I was again going to be I was sad.  I no longer wanted
to be alone. 
     After dark I packed my own gear, careful not to make any noise and left
the wilderness camp when dawn was no more than a promise.  

THE END
 

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