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From: Nick Scipio <nick_scipioSPAM@BLOCKyahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Summer Camp - Book 3" by Nick Scipio - Ch 18 (MF, teen, oral)
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Date: Wed,  2 Mar 2005 15:10:04 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Summer Camp - Book 3: Kendall
Part: Chapter 18
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Coming-of-age story about a teenager whose family spends 
their summer vacations at a nudist camp.
Keywords: MF, teen, oral
Revision: 1.01
Word Count: 15,735
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book3/
FTP Site: ftp://ftp.nickscipio.com/summercamp/book3/
Discussion Forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Scipio_Forum/

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

This 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 
(nick_scipio@yahoo.com). This story may be freely distributed 
with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2005 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

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

Summer Camp - Book 3: Kendall
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The morning after I returned from Knoxville, Mom cooked 
breakfast. Dad was out of town on a trip, and Erin had decided to 
sleep late, so Mom and I were alone. She fixed too much food, so 
I felt obliged to load my plate with more than I usually ate. 
With a well-hidden sigh, I wondered how I'd eat even _half_ of 
it.

"Have you called Gina yet?" Mom asked softly.

I shook my head. I had called Kendall the night before, when I 
got home, but I'd been leery about calling Gina, especially after 
our last conversation.

"Things haven't gotten better?"

I shrugged noncommittally.

"How're things with you and Kendall?"

Once again, I shrugged.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," I said.

"Are you sure?"

I shrugged. "It's a really complex situation, and _none_ of us 
are happy. I mean, it'd take me a while to explain, so..."

"I already know some of it," she said reasonably. "Besides, I'm 
not going anywhere."

Since explaining things would get me out of eating any more--I'd 
barely made a dent in my breakfast--I decided to do it. After a 
moment to marshal my thoughts, I started speaking. Fifteen 
minutes later, I was still going. Mom occasionally interrupted 
with questions, but for the most part, she simply listened.

"So that's more or less the situation," I said, summing up. 
"Kendall hoped Gina would go to UCLA instead of UT, and she wants 
her 'turn' as my only girlfriend. Gina's sorority sisters aren't 
really helping the situation, but she had her claws out before 
any of that flared up," I added. Then I shrugged expressively. 
"Now, Gina's fed up with Kendall, and Kendall's fed up with Gina. 
I'm in the middle, but nothing I do seems to make things any 
better."

"Elizabeth told me that Gina's pretty upset too. It sounds like 
you're in a difficult situation," Mom said.

"No fu-- I mean, no kidding."

"And you've tried to talk about it? With the girls, I mean."

I nodded. "But nothing seems to work. I can't get them to talk to 
each other, and neither one wants to be the first to extend the 
olive branch." _Besides, Gina already tried that, and it didn't 
work,_ I recalled with resentment.

"Then it sounds like you've got a tough choice to make."

"What do you mean?" I asked, although I knew the answer. I guess 
I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

"If none of you are happy, and you aren't communicating, then 
you'll only prolong the inevitable if you don't do _some_thing."

"Like what?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Well, if you've tried to fix things yourself, but things haven't 
improved, then..."

"I'm going to have to make a choice," I said heavily.

She nodded.

"Yeah, Trip told me the same thing."

"Sometimes it's easier to see things when you're not in the 
middle of them," she said, her voice soft and comforting.

"That doesn't make it any easier."

"No fucking kidding," she said. When I looked up in shock, she 
simply smiled. "Hey, I'm allowed to use that kind of language," 
she said, half-defensive, half-joking. "Especially if it's 
appropriate."

"Still...," I said.

"Still...," she echoed. Then, softly, "Do _you_ know what you 
want?"

"I want things the way they used to be," I said.

"That's a start," she said, "but whining about it won't make it 
happen."

I shook my head, chagrinned.

"Have you talked to Susan about it?"

"Sort of, but she wasn't any help."

"She can't _tell_ you what you want," Mom said, softly 
incredulous. "You need to decide that for yourself."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," I said.

"Because it's true," she said. Then she leaned forward. "No one 
said that being an adult was easy, Paul. I wish it were, but it's 
not. Sometimes, you have to make tough choices."

"But how can I make _this_ choice, knowing that it'll make 
somebody unhappy?" I asked.

"Is it better than the alternative?" she replied matter-of-
factly.

"That doesn't make it any easier."

"No, it doesn't," she said. "I wish I could help, but..."

"I'm going to have to figure this out for myself," I said. "Yeah, 
Susan told me the same thing."

"She's right, you know."

"That doesn't make it any easier," I said sullenly.

"Why don't you give Gina a call, to let her know you got home 
okay," she suggested. "No matter how you feel right now, you 
still need to be polite. Besides, Gina's just as frustrated as 
you are."

I nodded.

"You two always talked things out when you were in high school. 
Communication is vital to a good relationship. You know that."

"I guess," I said.

"No matter what, Gina will always be one of your best friends."

"I _wish_," I said, unconvinced.

At that, Mom stood and walked around the table. She leaned down 
and kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry, honey," she said 
quietly. "I wish I could solve all your problems and protect you, 
but you're not a little boy anymore."

_But I don't want to be an adult, either,_ I silently complained.

-----

"May I please speak to Gina?"

"Certainly, Paul," Elizabeth said, her British accent softly 
reassuring. "Just a moment."

A few seconds later, I heard a click as Gina picked up another 
extension.

"I've got it, Mom," she yelled. Then, to me, "Hi."

"Hi, yourself."

Our conversation started slowly, both of us feeling toward 
something, _anything_ better than our angry exchange from a few 
days before. She apologized for snapping at me, and I apologized 
in return. Then we talked about something safe: the end of the 
quarter and our classes in general.

Gina was pretty sure that she had made the Dean's List; despite 
all of her extracurricular activities with the sorority, she 
_did_ work hard on her schoolwork. According to my calculations, 
I'd earn an A in Professor Joska's class, and if I did, I'd make 
the Dean's List as well. (Kendall worried about her Organic 
Chemistry class, which she was sure would keep her from getting 
straight As, although I didn't share that with Gina.)

At that point, our conversation turned to our social lives.

Trip wanted to play Intramural Basketball during winter quarter, 
and he had recruited me to be on his team. Luke and Jeff were 
going to join us, and we were searching for a fifth man. Jeff had 
gotten better at football, but he was still hopelessly 
uncoordinated when it came to catching or holding on to the ball. 
I'd already seen him play basketball, so I didn't hold out much 
hope for him improving _there_ either. In spite of that, I 
figured that we'd have fun anyway.

Gina told me about her sorority's Winter Formal dance, which they 
held in conjunction with a fraternity. I cringed until she said 
that ATO was the fraternity (the sorority rotated which 
fraternity they chose, and the Pikes had been the year before). 
She also talked about Greek Week, as well as the sorority's plans 
for Carnicus, a celebration at the end of the spring quarter. By 
a cruel twist of irony, Chi Omega and Sigma Chi were planning a 
skit for the Carnicus competition.

"Paul?" Gina asked finally, her voice small.

"Yeah?"

"Were you serious when you said that _I_ was the reason you 
didn't get into Sigma Chi?"

"Listen," I said, "I'm sorry I said that."

"Is it true?"

"I don't know," I said at last. That wasn't strictly true, but I 
guess I didn't feel like beating Gina up for something in the 
past.

She knew me well enough to recognize my equivocation for what it 
was. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I never meant for that to 
happen."

"I'm better off not being in a fraternity," I lied glibly. "I 
mean, I don't know when I'd have _time_ for one."

"That's true," she said, tears in her voice. She was trying to 
make the best of a bad situation, and I knew it.

"So," I asked, changing the subject, "what're you up to today?"

"Not much. Leah wanted you to come over, but..."

"But what?"

"But... we need to talk about it first," she said.

"Do you wanna come over here instead?" I asked.

"Do you mind?"

"See you in ten minutes?" I asked, by way of answer.

"Give me fifteen," she said.

"Okay, I'll see you then."

-----

The doorbell rang fifteen minutes later. Gina smiled wanly when I 
answered it. I invited her in and then shut the door. A few 
minutes later, my mom and Erin went grocery shopping, leaving 
Gina and me alone.

"Where's your dad?" she asked.

"I think he's in Boston," I said. "But I'm really not sure."

"I thought I saw his car in the garage."

"He takes the Karmann Ghia when he's got a long set of trips," I 
explained. "He doesn't like leaving the Corvette at the airport."

"Oh, yeah," she said. "That's right."

"So we're here alone," I said.

"Alone?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," I said. Then I sat on the couch and pulled her into my 
lap. "Alone."

I had jerked off the night before--twice--and once in the shower 
that morning, but that didn't stop my dick from stiffening as 
Gina and I started kissing. Our kisses were tentative at first, 
but we quickly moved beyond our initial hesitation. Soon, we were 
kissing like long-lost lovers (which, in a way, we were).

"God, I've missed this," Gina said, when we finally separated.

"Me too."

"I hate when we argue," she said. Then she kissed me again.

"Mrmph toh," was all I could manage.

"When will your mom and Erin be back?" she asked, breathless.

I shrugged and then drew her lips to mine.

"I want you," she panted, pulling back slightly. "Now."

"Did you wanna talk about Leah first?" I teased.

Gina could feel my hard-on through my jeans, and she wiggled her 
ass against it as she shook her head.

"Are you sure?" I asked facetiously. "I mean, you said we needed 
to talk about--"

She turned to straddle my hips and then kissed me, hard.

As our tongues sparred, I mentally smiled.

"If you don't shut up and screw me, Paul Hughes," she said, 
breathing hard, "I think I'll explode."

"I wouldn't want to be responsible for _that_," I said with a 
grin.

She flashed me an exasperated look and then crushed her lips 
against mine, her silken black hair tickling my cheeks.

As we kissed, I pulled her shirt out of her jeans. Then I tugged 
it up, hooking my fingers under her bra as I did. We had to break 
our kiss, but we quickly resumed once I tossed aside her shirt 
and bra.

We kissed for another minute or two and then I reached for the 
snap of her jeans. A moment later, she abruptly rolled to the 
side. Then she slouched on the couch and kicked off her shoes as 
she unzipped her jeans. She skinned them off, along with her 
panties, in one motion. She didn't bother with her socks. When 
she rolled upright, she flashed me a pained look and then 
pointedly glanced at my still-fastened jeans.

"Do I have to do _everything?_" she asked.

I grinned like an idiot and deliberately laced my fingers behind 
my head.

She groaned in theatrical frustration and descended upon my belt. 
A moment later, she demanded that I lift my hips, which I did. 
She didn't even bother taking off my jeans and underwear; she 
simply shoved them down my legs and then reached for my erection. 
In one motion, she straddled my hips and set my cock at her 
opening. Then, with a sigh, she impaled herself on my length.

"Better?" I asked impudently.

"Shut up and screw me," she commanded. Then she tried to look 
stern.

It almost worked.

"You _are_ incorrigible," she said.

Instead of answering, I kissed her, my lips locked against hers 
as my tongue invaded her mouth. Then I put my hands on her hips 
and lifted her. She started moving on her own a half-second 
later.

As she moved atop me, she rocked her hips, grinding her clit 
against the base of my cock. I cupped her ass and pulled her 
toward me each time she raised her hips. In ecstasy, she arched 
her back, her ebony hair swinging free behind her.

I captured one of her dark nipples and sucked. It hardened in my 
mouth, a crinkly little nub of pleasure. She gasped when I bit 
down gently. When I switched to her other breast, she ran her 
fingers through my hair and cried out softly.

She came a lot quicker than I thought she would--she must've been 
_really_ worked up. Her pussy contracted around my cock and she 
began frantically bouncing up and down. With each downward 
motion, she arched her back, rocking her hips, rubbing her clit 
against my manhood.

Finally, her pussy spasmed and she cried out, her cries turning 
into a scream. I squeezed her ass cheeks as her pussy clutched at 
me, gripping and releasing, gripping and releasing.

With a long shudder, she collapsed against me, breathing hard and 
not moving. I merely held her, planting tender kisses along her 
shoulder as I did. Her pussy spasmed two or three more times, 
aftershocks sending shivers of pleasure through her body.

When she recovered enough to sit up, she looked at me, her eyes 
hooded.

"You told me to shut up and screw you," I said, grinning.

"Then shut up and kiss me," she said.

Who was I to refuse?

Ten minutes later, I was still very hard, and Gina was still 
impaled on my shaft. Unfortunately, she was too sensitive to 
continue, so she lay on the couch with her head in my lap. I 
simply closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensations as she ran her 
lips along my shaft. It didn't take her long to coax my balls 
into giving her what she wanted.

Afterward, we gathered our clothes and headed to my room. (I 
didn't know when my mother and sister would return, and I didn't 
really want to be fucking Gina on the living room couch when they 
_did_.)

I was still horny, so I took off the rest of my clothes and 
climbed onto the bed. Gina started sucking me again, her tongue 
caressing my shaft as my erection returned. I pulled her toward 
me and then rolled her to her back. As I did, I moved between her 
legs, my hard-on hovering over her pussy.

"I'm still a little sensitive," she said. "So be gentle."

I nodded and then lowered my hips. When I entered her, she 
whimpered, but then sighed.

"God, you're so much better than my fingers," she said.

As I bottomed out, I looked a question at her.

"My batteries died a week before exams," she said with a small 
laugh. "I was so busy that I didn't have time to get more. And ..."

"And?"

"Regan's been spending a lot of time with Margot, if you know 
what I mean."

For a moment, I imagined the two lithe blondes, their bodies 
entwined as they pleasured each other.

"Exactly," Gina said, reading my expression. "So I've been 
reduced to getting off the old fashioned way. But that has its 
benefits."

"Oh?"

"Mmm hmm," she said. "Miss Goody-two-shoes can't hear when I'm 
just using my fingers."

I furrowed my brow.

"I have to be careful when I use Rocky, 'cause Faith is a light 
sleeper."

"Rocky?"

"My vibrator?" she reminded me. "Duh. I thought Rocky sounded 
better than 'The Pleasure Rocket.'"

"I didn't know you'd given it a name," I said.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me lately," she 
said with a look of regret. "It seems like whenever we're 
together, we either argue or screw each other silly."

"You mean like now?" I asked, glancing down at where our bodies 
were joined.

"Are we arguing?" she asked disingenuously.

"Not really."

"Good," she said. "Then let's get back to screwing each other 
silly."

"In other words, 'shut up and screw you'?"

"You're such a goof," she said. "But... you're... my... goof," she 
added, her words coming out in gasps as I began pumping into her.

She was still too sensitive to continue for long, so I pulled out 
and she rolled to her hands and knees. I entered her from behind, 
gripping her hips as I slid into her. In that position, I 
wouldn't over-stimulate her clit. Instead, I hit her inner spot, 
and she started moaning in pleasure.

After several minutes, I quickened my pace, my climax imminent. 
With a guttural grunt, I slammed into her, burying my cock as 
deep as I could. Then I held on to her hips to steady myself as 
spurt after spurt of semen bathed her inner walls.

When I finally opened my eyes, I realized that I had collapsed 
forward, driving Gina to the bed. Beneath me, she was panting and 
moaning softly. I swallowed hard and pushed myself up.

With a groan, I pulled out of her and flopped to my back. She 
rolled over and hugged herself to my side, both of us still 
breathing hard.

"And we haven't even had our argument yet," she panted.

"Let's just lie here instead," I countered, wrapping my arm 
around her.

"Good idea. I'm too happy to argue anyway."

-----

"What did you want to talk to me about? " I asked Gina later. 
"About Leah, I mean?"

"She wants to have sex with you," Gina said, propping herself on 
her elbow.

"And you don't want me to?" I asked, a little confused, but sure 
that I understood her intimation.

"Is it that obvious?"

I nodded.

"I guess I want you to myself. I mean, I've been having to share 
for so long now that I'm..."

"You're what?" I asked.

"I'm tired of it," she said honestly. "You're _my_ boyfriend. 
Leah can get her own guy."

I followed that line of thought to its logical conclusion: _And 
Kendall can get _her_ own guy._ Had Gina meant it like that? 
Maybe, maybe not.

"I mean, _God_," she said, "Leah's not ugly or anything, and she 
likes sex, it's just... Believe it or not, she's shy around guys," 
she said. "Don't get a big head or anything, but you're a sure 
thing for her."

"A sure thing?"

"Yeah. Leah knows she can just _ask_ you to have sex with her. 
She doesn't wanna get a bad reputation around her school. You 
know? I mean, she can't just walk up to a guy and say, 'Pardon 
me, but I'd like you to screw me silly.'"

"I guess," I said, chuckling.

"I'm serious," Gina said. "It's a big double standard, and it 
sucks. Guys are cool if they have sex, but girls are sluts. 
That's not fair."

"No, it's not," I said softly.

"So Leah's horny, but scared. Well, she's shy, too. I mean, she 
doesn't have much experience flirting with guys. Girls, on the 
other hand...," Gina said, laughing. "God, if high school girls 
weren't so scared of being lezzies, I think Leah would be having 
sex with about ten of them. She can flirt with girls. But the 
trouble is, most of 'em don't have a clue what's going on," she 
explained.

I nodded.

"But that's not what I wanted to talk about," Gina finished.

I gestured for her to continue.

"I guess I just don't want to 'lend' you to Leah, if that makes 
sense. I mean, if you _want_ to have sex with her, then I guess 
it's okay, but..."

"But you don't want me to," I finished for her.

She looked into my eyes, trying to gauge my reaction.

"That's cool," I said. "I mean, I'm not the one who's gone 
looking for other girls."

"_Tell_ me about it," she said ruefully. "You've already got one 
girl too many in your life." At my frown, she turned apologetic. 
"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean it like that."

It was a thin excuse, but I let her off the hook. I didn't want 
to start an argument with her, if for no other reason than we 
were getting along at the moment. Besides, she had a right to 
feel that way, although I didn't think she saw things from 
Kendall's perspective. To be fair, Kendall didn't see things the 
way Gina did, either.

"Is that really okay?" Gina asked, drawing my attention back to 
the question at hand.

"Sure," I said. Then I grinned cockily. "That means you'll have 
to take care of _all_ of my urges, though."

"God," she said sincerely, "that's the _least_ of my worries."

-----

Gina decided to spend the night with me, so she called home to 
tell her parents. She also talked to Leah, who wasn't exactly 
happy to hear that she couldn't have sex with me. Oddly enough, 
Erin seemed to think Gina had done the right thing.

"She needs to be more outgoing," Erin said, about Leah. "And 
another thing--she needs to understand that I'm _not_ her 
property or something. I mean, she gets really upset when I talk 
about Sean. He's my _boyfriend_, but she doesn't seem to 
understand that. Yeah, I like fooling around with girls, but I'm 
not a lesbian or anything. I'm totally bisexual. I like guys too. 
But I guess it'd be easier if Leah had a guy of her own, or... 
whatever."

"That's easier said than done," I said.

"Why?" Erin asked. "She's cute, she's smart, and she's really 
interesting. Heck, she's charming. But around most guys, she just 
clams up. If she'd just have a little confidence, she'd have guys 
calling her all the time. But..."

"But what?" Gina asked.

"But... well... maybe she just needs to realize that she _is_ cute, 
she _is_ smart, and she _is_ interesting. She just needs a little 
push, you know?"

"I'll talk to her," Gina said. After an ironic pause, she half-
laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"I was just thinking..."

"About?"

"Kara had the same talk with me before you and I started going 
together," she said. "I hadn't thought about it 'til now. And you 
know what? I'd be willing to bet that my mom had the same talk 
with _Kara_." Then, "God, I'm turning into my mother!"

Erin and I chuckled.

Then Gina turned sober. "I'll talk to her," she repeated to Erin, 
who nodded.

"Cool. Thanks," Erin said. "In the meantime, I'm going to go 
finish writing a letter to Sean. I need to tell him what I'm 
gonna do to him the next time I see him," she added with a 
salacious smile. "So g'night."

"'Night," Gina and I said together. Then Gina shook her head in 
thought.

"What?" I asked.

"I really _am_ turning into my mother. I'm more worried about 
Leah than my own problems."

"It's because you're a good person."

"Tell _Kendall_ that," she said.

"I have," I said softly.

"It didn't work," Gina said, her eyes sad.

What could I say that wouldn't be a lie?

-----

The next day, during breakfast, the phone rang. Erin must've 
stayed up late, writing to Sean, because she was still in bed. 
Consequently, Mom answered the phone.

"Oh, hi, Susan," she said. The two women talked for a few 
minutes, but then Mom said, "Sure, he's right here. Hold on a 
second." Then to me, "Susan wants to talk to you."

Gina had just finished peeling me an orange, but shooed me toward 
the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi," Susan said. Then she gently upbraided me for not calling 
her after my exams, as I had promised.

"Um... sorry," I said. "I guess I got caught up in--"

"Life?" she interrupted, laughing. "That happens."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she said.

We talked for a few minutes about my exams and I proudly told her 
about my Design final. Then I gave her the highlights of my life 
for the previous month. Gina and Mom were within hearing range at 
the kitchen table, so I didn't go into too many details. Gina 
occasionally looked up and smiled, but she seemed content to let 
me talk as long as I wanted.

"So," Susan said at last, "are you ready to take a break from 
your Christmas break?"

"Huh?"

"I thought maybe you'd like to come over this weekend. You could 
spend a couple of days here and unwind, without any 
responsibilities."

"This weekend?" I asked. Then I Got It. I looked up at Mom.

She returned my stare with bland equanimity.

Was Susan's invitation a coincidence? Hardly. I'd been set up, 
and I knew it.

"Well?" Susan prompted. "I thought you could fly over tomorrow 
morning. I can meet you at the airport. If you'd like, you can 
help me around the house with Christmas decorating, or you can 
simply relax and do nothing. Whatever you like. I can drop you 
off at the airport on Monday or Tuesday, and you can fly home, 
rested and refreshed. What do you think?"

"I think I'm being set up," I said, shooting another glance at my 
mother.

"Set up?" Susan asked. She even managed to sound guileless.

"Set up," I repeated, without heat. "I _know_ you."

"Yes, you do," she said, dropping all pretext, her voice warm. 
"I'd still like to see you this weekend, though," she said. "Your 
mom thought you might like someone to talk to. She also thought 
you'd like some time away from... things."

"Actually, things're going pretty good here," I said obtusely, 
but knowing that she'd catch the reference.

"Go already," Gina said from the table.

"You don't even know what I'm talking about," I said to her.

She rolled her eyes and then shook her head, as if to say, 
"Silly, of _course_ I know what you're talking about."

Mom smiled artfully.

"Are _all_ the women in my life conspiring against me?" I asked 
no one in particular.

"_Yes!_" Mom, Susan, and Gina answered at once.

Mom and Gina started laughing. When Susan heard them, she joined 
in.

"Okay, okay," I said at last. "I give." Then, to Susan, "Let me 
check the weather and file a flight plan. I'll let you know what 
time to pick me up."

"I thought you'd see it my way," she said. "Or rather, _our_ 
way."

-----

Later that afternoon, Gina and I got together with my best friend 
from high school, Scott Anderson, and his girlfriend, Shannon. We 
talked about life at college, life away from our families, and 
life in general.

I was a little saddened by how much we'd grown apart. Scott was 
in Air Force ROTC (at Arizona State University), so his day-to-
day life was very different from mine. Even Shannon and Gina, who 
had once been good friends, seemed to have little in common 
anymore. As if to underscore the differences, even our college 
cities--Knoxville, Tennessee, and Tempe, Arizona--couldn't have 
been more different.

Gina and I had a good time with Scott and Shannon, but I guess we 
both felt estranged from them.

"Heather Wellesley was the same way," Gina said as we drove back 
to my house. "We'd become so... different."

"When did you talk to Heather?" I asked, recalling fond--and 
sexy--memories of the busty blonde.

"I called her over Thanksgiving, but she's changed a lot. I mean, 
she's become a total party girl. She's pledging AO Pi... that's 
Alpha Omicr--"

"I know the Greek alphabet," I interrupted, trying not to sound 
testy.

"Oh yeah, sorry. Anyway, she's pledging AO Pi. I've heard they're 
one of the big party sororities at Georgia."

"Isn't Chi O one of the party sororities at Tennessee?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," Gina admitted. "But we also do a lot of 
community service. And they encourage us to keep our grades up. 
Panhellenic women have the highest collective GPA of any group on 
campus. So yeah, Chi O is a party sorority, but we know when to 
party and when to study. I know _I_ sure do."

I wordlessly conceded the point.

"Anyway, when I spoke to Heather," Gina continued, "the _only_ 
things she talked about were the parties and the guys. When I 
asked her about her classes, she basically bragged about how she 
skipped most of them. I mean, she still doesn't know what she 
wants to major in. As far as I could tell, though, it sounded 
like she's working toward an Advanced Party-ology degree."

I chuckled.

"I hope I never get like that," Gina said. "Sure, I like the 
parties and mixers, but my main focus is school. I mean, I know 
what I wanna do, and I'm _going_ to do it."

I nodded in confident agreement.

"Speaking of which," she added with a grin, "I _definitely_ wanna 
do you. Tonight."

I waggled my eyebrows at her.

"I think I'll force you to screw me silly," she mused.

"I don't think you'll have to 'force' me."

"Maybe not the first or second time," she replied, her whimsy 
turning to challenge, "but the fourth or fifth time, I--"

"'_Fourth or fifth time_'?" I half-squawked.

"Don't interrupt," she chided. "Now, as I was saying, the fourth 
or fifth time, I think..."

-----

True to her word, Gina basically attacked me when we went to bed 
that night. I was a willing victim, though. Our sex was hard and 
fast, and I was afraid that my family would hear.

Afterward, we sprawled across my bed, panting. Once Gina had 
satisfied her urge for aggressive sex, however, she turned 
affectionate. The second time we made love, we were quiet and 
gentle. She straddled my hips and rode me, rising and falling 
with a hypnotic rhythm, driving both of us toward orgasm.

It took me a while to come, but she followed close behind. Then 
we held each other, neither of us wanting the feeling to end. 
After ten or fifteen minutes of companionable silence, I brushed 
a lock of hair away from her face and gazed up at her.

"Why do you want me to go to Susan's?" I asked.

"Because she always gives you good advice," Gina answered without 
hesitation.

I cocked my head to the side.

"I know what I want," she said honestly, "but if I push you, I'll 
only push you away. Do you think I can't see what's happening 
with you, me, and Kendall?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to.

"Your mom thought it'd be a good idea for you to talk to Susan. 
And when she asked me about it last night, I agreed with her."

"Even though it's not up to you?" I asked, a little piqued.

"No, Paul, it's up to _you_," she soothed. "But I love you. And 
this hostility between Kendall and me is destroying us. Something 
has to change."

"Do you know what you're saying?"

She nodded. "I might not like it, but I'm sick and tired of the 
way we've been living. I used to love Kendall, but now..."

I tried not to sigh audibly.

"Now, I guess I'm... desperate," Gina added quietly. "So if Susan 
can give you some useful advice, then _go_."

"What if she tells me that I should break up with you?"

"She'd never do that," Gina said with quiet confidence.

I knew she was right, of course, but that wasn't why I had asked 
the question. I wanted to see how she would react.

"She's never _told_ you what to do," she continued. "She's not 
like that."

My silence was agreement enough.

"Paul," Gina said softly, "I love you more than anything, and I 
want you to be happy. I want _us_ to be happy," she stressed.

I was quiet for a long moment, my eyes searching hers. Her 
version of "us" didn't include Kendall. At the thought, my 
stomach lurched almost painfully.

"In the meantime," Gina whispered, "I need you."

I rolled us over and came to rest between her legs, my dick 
surging back to life.

"I _need_ you," she breathed as I slid into her.

-----

The next morning, I got up early and started packing my things. 
The weather report called for eight miles visibility and a 5,000 
ft. ceiling. That was more than enough for flying VFR, but the 
weather forecast for the afternoon wasn't so cheery. A low 
pressure front was moving in, and the visibility would drop to 
five miles, with a 3,000 ft. ceiling. That was marginal for VFR, 
and I didn't want to risk getting caught by the deteriorating 
weather.

Gina woke up as I was putting the last of my things in my 
backpack. I wouldn't need much--I _was_ going to a nudist camp--
but even in South Carolina, December is a pretty cold month.

"Do you have time to come back to bed before you shower?" Gina 
asked.

I looked at my watch--it was a little after seven o'clock. Then I 
glanced at Gina. She had thrown back the covers, and the sight of 
her body stirred something within me.

"We don't have to do anything," she said.

I glanced down at my slowly stiffening manhood. Then I flashed 
her a hungry look.

"Then again," she added with a grin, "maybe we _do_."

-----

The flight to South Carolina was uneventful. With the low 
pressure front moving in, the air was a bit turbulent, but not 
more than I could handle. When I was ten miles from the airport, 
I tuned my radio to the Unicom frequency and listened for a 
moment. The frequency was clear, so I keyed my mike.

"Lancaster County Unicom, Cessna 4619 Tango," I said, to get the 
operator's attention. Several moments later, my headphones 
crackled with the response.

"One Niner Tango, Lancaster Unicom."

"Lancaster, One Niner Tango is ten miles southwest at three 
thousand, landing Lancaster," I said. "Request traffic advisory 
and runway in use."

The Unicom operator wasn't an air traffic controller--he was 
simply there as a convenience for pilots. Since the airport was 
uncontrolled, it was _my_ responsibility to watch out for other 
planes in the area ("traffic"), and to call over the radio to 
advise other pilots of my position and intentions. So I paid 
close attention as the Unicom operator advised me that a Grumman 
Cheetah was on final, told me that the active runway was 24, and 
gave me a wind report.

"Roger, Lancaster. Thank you, sir. One Niner Tango," I replied. 
(My father was unfailingly polite on the radio, and he always 
used "sir." I grinned to myself when I realized that I had 
unconsciously mimicked his habit.)

My current heading was almost reciprocal to the runway in use, so 
I didn't have to maneuver much to enter the downwind leg of my 
approach. When I did, I pushed the transmit button on the control 
yoke. Then I broadcast in a measured cadence.

"Lancaster Traffic, Cessna One Niner Tango entering left downwind 
for Runway Two Four, full stop, Lancaster."

Any other pilots in the area would hear my radio call and know 
where I was and what I was doing. Midway through my downwind leg, 
a Piper Tomahawk called the Unicom operator and was advised of my 
position.

When I turned onto the base leg of my approach, I made another 
radio call, similar to my downwind transmission. A moment later, 
the Tomahawk called that he was entering the airport's downwind. 
Shortly after that, I pressed the transmit button again.

"Lancaster Traffic, One Niner Tango turning final," I called, 
"landing Two Four, Lancaster."

With that, I banked the plane and lined up with the runway. The 
wind was out of the west-southwest, but I still had a bit of a 
crosswind. With a little rudder and aileron, I crabbed into the 
wind.

Once I crossed the runway's threshold, I floated the plane toward 
the asphalt, losing altitude slowly. At the last moment, I 
straightened the controls and lined up the nose gear with the 
runway centerline. With a chirp, my right main gear hit first, 
but the other wheels quickly touched down with chirps of their 
own. I braked to a stop and then goosed the throttle to turn onto 
the taxiway. Finally, I keyed my mike.

"Lancaster Traffic, One Niner Tango clear of Two Four, 
Lancaster," I transmitted.

I saw Susan's station wagon at the FBO as I taxied in. She waved 
to me and I waved in reply. Then I turned my attention to parking 
the airplane.

Susan walked up as I opened the plane's door. I stepped out and 
smiled at her.

"Is this how all the fashionable young pilots dress these days?" 
she asked with a grin.

I was wearing aviator's sunglasses and my new bomber jacket, 
along with jeans and a Polo button-down. I stood straight and 
tried to look impressive. Then I cracked a smile at my puffed up 
posture.

"It's good to see you, Paul," she said.

"Don't I get a hug?" I asked, spreading my arms.

When she wrapped her arms around my neck, I lifted her off her 
feet. After I set her down, I busied myself with the tiedowns. 
Once I had the Cessna secured, Susan and I walked back to the 
FBO, where I asked the operator to send the fuel truck out to the 
plane.

After topping off the tanks, I returned to the operations 
building, where I signed in. Susan insisted on paying for the 
fuel and tiedown fees. I knew it'd be pointless to argue with 
her, so I acquiesced. Finally, I slung my backpack into the 
station wagon and hopped into the passenger seat.

During the drive to camp, we talked about school, classes, exams, 
my schedule for the upcoming quarter, and everything _but_ 
Kendall and Gina. I think Susan was letting me relax, without the 
pressure to immediately dive into what was bothering me. She'd 
always been good about that, letting me get around to things in 
my own time.

At the camp gate, I jumped out and opened the lock. When I 
lowered the chain, Susan drove over it and then waited while I 
refastened the lock.

The camp itself looked _very_ different in the winter. Many of 
the trees around the camp were evergreen, but the deciduous trees 
had shed their leaves. In addition, the cabins above the 
clubhouse were closed and shuttered, and the RV and trailer 
parking areas were deserted (except for one lonely Airstream 
trailer). Even the clubhouse was different; plastic sheeting 
covered the screen windows, and tendrils of smoke rose from the 
stone chimney. The weather wasn't freezing, but it _was_ cold 
enough that a fire would feel good.

"How many people live here in the winter?" I asked.

"More than a dozen," Susan answered. Then she mentioned several 
names that I recognized. They were all older couples, my 
grandparents' age. "And Jeremiah, of course," she added, 
referring to Gunny Kershaw.

"Not many winter nudists," I said.

"No," she answered, smiling. "It's a very seasonal recreation."

"How _is_ Gunny?" I asked, changing the subject.

"He's as big a curmudgeon as ever," she said affectionately. 
"And... he's got a lady friend these days."

"Oh?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. Gunny was a lifelong bachelor. 
Despite that--or maybe _because_ of that--he told some of the 
rawest, most bawdy stories I'd ever heard. Some of them were 
probably even true.

"Mmm hmm," Susan said, grinning. "Her name is Lenore, and she's 
about my age. She works at the beauty parlor in town, and she's 
very nice. She comes out on the weekends, so you'll probably get 
a chance to meet her."

"Gunny's got a girlfriend," I mused, nodding. I don't know why I 
thought he needed my approval to have a girlfriend, but I _did_ 
approve, as weird as that seems. In reality, I guess I was happy 
for him.

When we pulled up to Susan's house, it looked the same as it 
always did. Her flowers and plants weren't blooming, of course, 
but the house _was_ surrounded by evergreens, so little changed 
from season to season.

Inside, however, things were very different. I was used to 
entering her kitchen and feeling the chill of air conditioning, 
so it was a bit of a shock when warm air greeted me instead. The 
house also _felt_ like winter: the dishtowels had dark red and 
green stripes (instead of cheerful summer colors), the 
decorations in the living room were for the holidays, and the air 
smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg.

I took in my surroundings and smiled. When I glanced at Susan, 
however, she seemed apprehensive.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine," she said, brightening. Then she tried to look 
nonchalant. "Would you like to put your things in the 
guestroom...?"

I sensed there was more. I _hoped_ there was more. "Or...?" I 
prompted.

"Or in my bedroom?" she asked softly.

I thought about teasing her, but decided not to when I realized 
that she was genuinely nervous.

"Don't worry about it," she said in a rush. "I'm just being 
sentimental. You can put your things in--"

"Your bedroom," I said, interrupting her.

For a moment, my words didn't register. When they did, her eyes 
filled with relief.

"If you don't think I'm being presumptuous, that is," I added.

"Presumptuous? No, not at all. I don't mind. I thought you'd..." 
When she saw my grin, she rolled her eyes. "Now you're teasing 
me," she accused.

"Maybe just a little," I said. Then, "Where'd you _think_ I'd 
want to sleep?"

"I didn't know, and..."

"You're as bad as I am sometimes," I said. Then I put my arm 
around her and pulled her close.

She looked up at me, her eyes full of love and gratitude. "I 
didn't know if I should treat you as a guest, or as a visiting 
lover," she said.

"Aren't I both?" I asked.

"Yes, but... I didn't want to take you for granted."

"Ha! Don't worry about that. I was well on my way to taking _you_ 
for granted," I teased, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, you 
wouldn't _believe_ what I was thinking during the flight over."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Let's put it this way," I said, grinning, "I'm lucky I didn't 
pass out from blood loss to the brain."

"Oh, I've missed you," she said with a bright laugh. "You don't 
know _how_ good it is to have you here."

"It's good to be here," I said. "Thanks for inviting me. But if 
you don't mind, I'd like to put my backpack down and get 
comfortable."

"Right this way," she said, playfully formal. Then she led me 
toward the back of the house.

Once there, I discovered that she had actually cleared a dresser 
drawer for me. I unpacked my clothes and then took my toiletries 
kit to the bathroom. I grinned to myself when I realized that she 
had cleared a space for me on the counter as well.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asked.

"Yep," I said.

When I didn't continue, she flashed me an inquisitive look.

I gestured for her to stand in front of me. As she did, I turned 
her to face the mirror.

"What?" she asked, her earlier anxiety returning, if only a 
little.

"This _is_ still a nudist camp, right?" I asked.

She grinned and rolled her eyes.

"I mean, we're wearing a lot of clothes for supposed nudists."

"Would you like to do something about that?" she asked 
sardonically. "Or are you all talk and no action?"

"I'll show you action," I blustered playfully.

She merely arched an eyebrow in challenge.

I put my hands on her hips and ran my fingers under the bottom of 
her cable knit sweater. When she didn't move to stop me, I traced 
my fingers along her soft abdomen and then upward. Finally, I 
cupped her satin-encased breasts and watched her reaction in the 
mirror.

She sighed and leaned back against my chest, her cheeks darkening 
as the flush of arousal mounted. I kissed the back of her head 
and then moved lower, trailing my lips over her sensitive 
earlobe.

A moment later, I pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it 
aside. She was wearing a dark blue satin bra that made her 
breasts look fantastic. Her eyes were still closed as I popped 
the button on her jeans. I lowered them, but not her panties, 
which were also dark blue satin.

Over the years, I'd learned a thing or two about women and their 
underwear. When they didn't plan on anyone seeing their bra and 
panties, most women wore whatever was comfortable, or whatever 
suited their fancy that day. But when they _did_ think that 
someone might see their underwear, they usually wore "the good 
stuff."

And "good stuff" wasn't anything frilly from Frederick's of 
Hollywood, which was mostly for show. Gina had a few exotic 
outfits from Frederick's, but they were uncomfortable, downright 
silly, or both. No, the "good stuff" that most women wore was 
sexy instead of silly. And they wore it when they wanted someone 
to see it.

I grinned to myself as Susan stepped out of her jeans and kicked 
them aside. Her matching bra and panty set told me all I needed 
to know about what she was hoping for.

"Close your eyes," I said quietly, my lips close to her ear.

She nodded and then moistened her lips in anticipation.

As I kissed her neck and shoulder, I unbuttoned and removed my 
shirt. Then I switched to her other shoulder and kicked off my 
shoes. Finally, I unbuttoned my jeans and then removed them, 
along with my underwear.

Susan shivered as I ran my hands up her arms. When I cupped her 
breasts again, I felt her nipples harden through the satin. She 
smiled and then laughed softly.

"Do I have to keep my eyes closed?" she asked. "Or can I open 
them and look at you?"

"You can open them," I said.

When her eyes blinked open, she smiled at me. Then, with an 
impish grin, she reached back and captured my hard-on.

As she kneaded my cock, I returned the favor with her breasts.

Her eyes drooped closed again, and I unfastened the front catch 
on her bra. It parted, revealing the creamy skin beneath. Her 
rosy nipples winked into view as I peeled away the satin cups. 
She had to let go of my dick so I could pull off her bra, but she 
quickly picked up where she'd left off. I returned my hands to 
her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze as I hefted them.

"Oh, my," she said with a sigh. "I've missed this."

"You don't have any other 'visiting lovers'?" I asked, half 
joking, half serious.

"None with penises," she said, slowly stroking mine. "Well, none 
with _real_ penises."

I arched an eyebrow at her reflection.

She must've felt my inquiring look, since she opened her eyes. "I 
have a friend in town with an extensive collection of toys," she 
said without elaborating. "But that's all."

"How about your friends in California?"

"They're friends," she said, "not lovers."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. Then I teased her nipples, 
rolling them between finger and thumb.

"Oh, that's nice," she said, distracted. After a moment, she 
seemed to gather her thoughts. Then she grinned wryly. "Oh, I 
occasionally call an escort service and request a young stud."

"Oh, you do?"

"Mmm hmm. I like a guy with a nice body, and a big dick, of 
course."

I felt my jaw drop involuntarily.

"I'm serious," she said. "I can be a demanding woman."

"So," I asked, still incredulous, "how's the... um... escort service 
working for you?" I couldn't tell if she were serious or not, 
which had me worried.

"So far, so good," she said. "The most recent young stud seemed 
promising, with everything I like: a nice smile, a good sense of 
humor, a great body, and a long, thick dick, with big balls. 
But..."

"But...?" I prompted, hanging on every word.

"But he left my panties on too long," she said pointedly.

It took me a moment to realize that she was talking about _me_. 
Sometimes, I'm a little slow on the uptake. I laughed and then 
quickly hooked my thumbs in the waistband of her panties.

"That's better," she said. Then she grinned wryly. "I'll have to 
call the Hughes Escort Service and let them know that their man 
was just what I needed."

"You're horrible," I said. Then I muttered something about how 
it's not nice to tease a guy.

"But that would take all the fun out of it," she countered 
mischievously.

"Are you ready for me to take off your panties?" I asked, 
feigning impatience.

"I've _been_ ready."

In one smooth motion, I stripped her bare.

"_Much_ better," she said.

I stepped toward her and pressed my erection into her ass. Then I 
reached around and returned my hands to her breasts. As I cupped 
them, my eyes dropped to her smooth pussy.

Maybe Kendall had been right. Maybe I _did_ like shaved women 
because of Susan. Whatever the reason, my dick swelled further as 
I gazed at her inviting slit.

A moment later, I ran my hands down her tummy. She shivered when 
I reached her labia. I gently pulled them apart, revealing her 
pink inner folds and hooded clit. For a moment, I simply marveled 
at how pretty her pussy was. Her milky white skin gave way to 
subtle shades of pink and red, along with a shiny hint of 
moisture. Her inner lips had begun to flush and plump with 
arousal. I grinned to myself when she sagged against me and 
moaned softly.

"You like?" I whispered.

"What's not to like?"

I continued playing with her pussy for another minute or two. 
Then I turned her around and pushed her against the counter. With 
a grin, I sank to my knees and inhaled the scent of her arousal.

Her labia were silky smooth when I pressed my lips against them.

She ran her fingers through my hair and spread her legs as I 
nuzzled her sex.

"Oh, Paul," she said softly, "I've missed you so much."

"Mmm hmm," I answered, my lips wrapped around her still-hooded 
clit. When she leaned back against the counter, I lifted her onto 
it.

She cried out softly, in surprise, but quickly adjusted.

I spread her legs and then draped them over my shoulders as I 
knelt before her. When I returned my lips to her pussy, she 
moaned softly and twined her fingers through my hair.

Her labia parted under my darting tongue, and I tasted the 
metallic-tangy flavor of her excitement. With a hidden grin, I 
licked between the folds of her inner and outer labia, making her 
squirm. Then I sucked her distended inner lips, flicking them 
with my tongue as I did.

As she became more aroused, her moans grew louder. I slowly 
pushed two fingers into her opening, feeling the inner ridges of 
her pussy and then crooking my fingertips to hit her spot. She 
gasped and gently tugged my head, pulling my mouth back to her 
clit. I obliged her, circling the hooded pink pearl with my 
tongue and then sucking it gently.

Once my fingers were coated with her juices, I began moving them 
within her, teasing her. At the same time, I returned my 
attention to her inner lips and clit. With short licks, I lapped 
at her slit, flicking my tongue under the protective hood of her 
clit at the end of each stroke.

She cried out softly each time my tongue grazed her sensitive 
button. I lavished attention on her for ten or fifteen minutes, 
making her writhe in ecstasy. Then, unexpectedly, she pushed me 
away.

I looked up at her, my lips covered with her juices.

"I want to suck you," she said, her voice husky with desire.

I nodded.

"Let's get comfortable," she said, nodding toward the bed. "I 
want to take my time and enjoy it."

Once again, I nodded.

She smiled, her composure returning. "I think I want to suck you 
for the next hour," she said. "Would you like that?"

I nodded like an idiot.

When I slid my fingers from her pussy, she closed her eyes and 
swallowed hard, her face a mask of pleasure and yearning.

"Can you walk?" I teased. "Or do you want me to carry you?"

"Carry me, you young stud," she said breathlessly. She probably 
didn't think I actually _would_. Consequently, she yelped when I 
scooped her off the counter. "Oh, my," she said. Then she 
grinned. "I'll give you a generous tip, young stud, if you take 
care of all of my needs."

"I'll give _you_ a tip," I muttered playfully. "And then I'll 
give you the shaft."

"Oh, no," she said, her eyes wide, "not the shaft."

"If you're good to the shaft, I'll give you the balls too."

"Are we playing golf or having sex?" she asked, trying to look 
innocent. Then she squawked as I unceremoniously dumped her on 
the bed. "I'll have to talk to someone at Hughes Escort Service 
about you," she muttered.

"Don't bother. I know the owner. She's a hard woman. She's also 
scheming and devious. I wouldn't trust her," I finished flatly, 
suppressing a grin.

"I'll tell her you said that," Susan shot back. Then her eyes 
softened and she gazed up at me affectionately. "I really _have_ 
missed you," she said.

"I've missed you too," I said softly, meaning it more than my 
words conveyed. Kendall and Gina were sometimes immature (as 
immature as I was, I guess). I didn't have that problem with 
Susan. She was mature and wise, and--

She reached up and stroked my erection.

--and sexy as _hell_.

"I believe I promised you a blowjob," she said, her eyes 
smoldering with anticipation.

"A _long_ blowjob," I stressed.

"Mmm hmm."

She scooted toward the center of the bed. Then she patted the 
bedspread, inviting me to join her. When I did, she climbed 
between my legs. I leaned back against the headboard and simply 
relaxed, enjoying the view.

She took her time, kissing and teasing my dick. By the time she 
finally captured the tip between her lips, I thought I was going 
to explode. She deftly gripped the base of my shaft and squeezed. 
Then she simply held my dick in her mouth, waiting for me to calm 
down. When I did, she looked up at me, her blue eyes twinkling, 
her lips an "O" around my shaft.

"Take me deep," I gasped. Neither Kendall nor Gina could swallow 
my entire length. Kendall came a lot closer than Gina, but she 
still couldn't take all of me. Susan, on the other hand...

....swallowed half my length in one lunge. When she adjusted, she 
sucked gently, caressing the underside of my shaft with her 
tongue. Then she opened her lips and engulfed another couple of 
inches. To my disappointment, she pulled back, dragging the tight 
oval of her lips along my length. I knew she was just warming up, 
though, so I tried to be patient.

She took me into the back of her throat several more times, but 
never quite swallowed the final inch. It felt wonderful, but I 
wanted to see her lips wrapped around the base of my shaft. I 
wanted to feel her chin against my balls, her nose pressed into 
my pubic hair. I wanted her to swallow _all_ of me.

She rewarded my patience several minutes later. With her lips 
wrapped around my shaft about an inch from the base, she took a 
deep breath, her nostrils flaring. Then she opened her mouth and 
closed her eyes. I watched, enraptured, as she slowly impaled her 
throat on my cock. When her lips closed around the very base of 
my shaft, I shivered in pleasure.

Susan swallowed, and the convulsive ring of muscles at the back 
of her throat squeezed my cock, sending waves of pleasure along 
my shaft. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, the feeling so 
intense that I thought I might pass out.

When she pulled back, I almost sighed in relief. But then I 
immediately wanted her to swallow me again. As if by mind 
control, she obliged me, her lips gliding along my saliva-slick 
shaft as she deliberately forced my manhood into her throat. It 
was tight, caressing the sides of my shaft and sending tingles 
along my spine. A moment later, she wrapped her lips around the 
thick base of my dick and then sucked gently.

"Oh, God," I groaned. "That feels _incredible_."

She made a noise of agreement, the vibration buzzing my cock. I 
shut my eyes and leaned my head against the headboard. Then I ran 
my fingers through her hair, incoherently mumbling my approval.

She took me into the back of her throat several more times and 
then let my dick slip from her lips. It was shiny with her 
saliva, the glans bulbous, swollen with arousal. Her breath 
cooled my cock as she kissed along the underside ridge. Then she 
nuzzled my balls, my hard-on resting against her cheek as she 
did.

For the next forty minutes, she made love to my dick. She sucked 
it. She kissed it. She licked it. And she swallowed it all, her 
throat squeezing me gently as her lips caressed the base.

Sometime during all of that, she thrust a hand between her legs 
and started playing with her pussy. Throughout the extended 
blowjob, however, she paid attention to my level of arousal. When 
she sensed that I was getting too close to release, she slowed 
down, or squeezed the root of my shaft. As she drove herself 
toward her own climax with fingers busy on her clit, she expertly 
worked me into a near-frenzy.

By the time she was ready to let me come, I felt like my eyeballs 
were swimming in semen. My balls felt ready to burst. My cock, 
deep red and incredibly hard, practically vibrated with the need 
to climax.

Susan pulled back, her lips around my shaft, just under the 
crown. With one hand still on her pussy, she used the other to 
bring me off.

The sensation blossomed deep in my loins, building and building 
until I thought I was going to pass out from pent-up sexual 
energy. As the feeling spread, a warm glow suffused my senses. I 
wanted to warn Susan to get ready, since I knew I was going to 
shoot gallons, but I couldn't convince my voice to do anything 
other than groan incoherently.

With a rush, I felt the first spurt of semen racing up my shaft. 
Time stood still, and I tried to concentrate on every sensation: 
Susan's lips on my shaft, her tongue caressing the bottom of my 
glans, her fingers as they rhythmically stroked me. Finally, the 
world went white and I erupted, my hips launching upward in the 
spastic jerk of orgasm.

When I returned to my senses, Susan was still sucking my dick, 
milking it with her lips and hand. She pulled off and swallowed--
again--but quickly returned her mouth to my shaft.

I didn't go soft immediately, but I could feel the blood draining 
from my erection. Susan kept right on sucking, her hand busy 
between her own legs.

Her face slowly turned a darker shade of pink, shiny with a thin 
sheen of sweat. As my cock slowly deflated, she lunged forward, 
swallowing it all. With her lips wrapped around the base of my 
turgid member, she moaned softly, her orgasm imminent.

She groaned deep in her chest, the sound sending vibrations 
through my dick. Then she stiffened, her face turning redder 
still. A moment later, she cried out, the sound muffled by my 
semi-hard dick.

Her orgasm seemed to last for minutes on end. Her tongue stopped 
moving on my shaft, and she simply held me in her mouth. A moment 
later, she squeezed her legs together, her buttocks clenching.

When she finally relaxed, she pulled her hand from between her 
legs. My dick slipped from her lips as she rested her head on my 
thigh. I ran my fingers through her sweat-damp hair. With a grin, 
she scooted forward and recaptured my shrinking dick. Luckily, I 
wasn't too sensitive, so I simply enjoyed myself as she nursed me 
quietly.

-----

Later, we lay in bed and held each other. I didn't really feel 
like talking--about _anything_, much less my problems--and Susan 
sensed that. When I put her hand on my dick, she took the cue and 
started stroking me.

Once I reached full erection, I gestured for her to sit up. Then 
I scooted toward the head of the bed, using pillows to prop 
myself against the headboard. When she started to lower her head 
to my lap, I gestured for her to straddle my hips instead.

She arched an eyebrow.

"I want to fuck you," I said simply. In reality, I wanted to 
watch her shaved pussy as she impaled herself on my shaft, but 
the distinction wasn't worth mentioning.

She smiled in reply, swung her leg over mine, and set the tip of 
my shaft at her opening. Then she sank onto my erection, the heat 
and wetness of her pussy enveloping me.

Instead of letting her start moving atop me, however, I held her 
hips in place.

She cocked her head to the side.

"I guess I want to talk after all," I said, smiling quizzically 
at my own revelation.

"I got the feeling you weren't in the mood for conversation," she 
said. "But..."

"Yeah. Go figure."

"Was there something specific you wanted to talk about?" she 
asked, settling back on my hips, my shaft still buried in her 
depths.

I shrugged.

As the silence drew out, she gazed at me in anticipation. Then 
she seemed to come to a decision. "Have you lost weight?" she 
asked. At the question, she ran her fingertips down my chest. Her 
touch was light, but not light enough to tickle.

"Not really," I said.

"You look like you have. Your chest and shoulders look bigger, 
but you look like you've lost weight everywhere else."

_Thank God,_ I thought.

"But I can really tell in your face."

I looked a question at her.

"Your cheeks look sunken, and you've got dark circles under your 
eyes," she said bluntly. Then, "Are you eating enough?"

"I guess," I said, hoping to avoid further questions.

"Your mom said you're watching your weight."

I looked at her sharply, reminding myself that she probably knew 
more than she was letting on. After all, she and my mom talked to 
each other on a regular basis.

"She also said your pants are two inches smaller now, but they're 
still a little loose."

"I don't wanna gain the Freshman Fifteen," I said, trying not to 
sound defensive.

"No," Susan agreed reasonably, "but _losing_ the Freshman Fifteen 
would be just as unhealthy. Besides, self-esteem comes from 
within, _not_ a bathroom scale."

"Can we talk about something else?" I asked semi-petulantly.

"Okay," she said softly, the word drawing out. Then, "Like what?"

For a moment, I sat there sullenly. When the conversation turned 
to my weight, my erection had softened to the point where it 
slipped from her pussy.

She followed my glance and then slid backward. When she took my 
slippery manhood in her hands, she grinned at me. "Do you want to 
'not talk' about this?" she asked, which was a clever way of 
saying, "Do you want me to get you hard again?"

I nodded.

When she began stroking my flaccid shaft, I watched her breasts 
sway. Something about their movement tickled the back of my 
brain, but I couldn't pin it down.

As soon as I was hard enough, she scooted forward and rose on her 
knees. A moment later, she rested on my hips, my erection filling 
her completely.

"Was this the kind of 'not talking' you had in mind?" she asked, 
smiling whimsically.

My cheeks warmed as I nodded. Then, completely out of the blue, I 
asked, "Do you like to have your tits fucked?"

"Sometimes," she replied, laughing musically. "Why?"

"I dunno," I said with a shrug. "I guess I was just wondering 
what it would feel like."

"I think we've done it before," she said. "But it's been a 
while."

"Yeah," I said, "I guess I remember... but not really, if that 
makes sense."

She nodded.

"Does it feel good for you?" I asked.

"I enjoy doing it, if that's what you mean."

"But does it _feel_ good?" I pressed.

She gazed at me for a moment, as if trying to decide on a 
diplomatic answer. "Not really," she said at last. "It doesn't 
feel _bad_, but it's not something that particularly excites me. 
Not like sucking you," she said frankly. "Maybe it's because my 
nipples aren't nearly as sensitive as they used to be."

I furrowed my brow.

"I nursed two babies," she said. "Breastfeeding toughens a 
woman's nipples."

I nodded in understanding.

"Besides, there aren't a whole lot of nerve endings in the 
breasts themselves."

"Then why do some girls like it?" I asked.

"Why do I like giving head?" she asked rhetorically. "Why do you 
like shaved pubic hair? Why do some people like anal sex? Why do 
others like bondage, or submission, or whatever?"

I shrugged.

"Who knows? I think I like giving head because of my first lover, 
Greg. Whenever I sucked him, he played with my pussy, and he 
always got me off right after he came. To this day, I get wet 
whenever I think about giving head. That's just the way I'm 
wired."

"I guess," I said, unconvinced.

"You like shaved pubic hair, right?"

I nodded.

"That's probably because of _me_," she said candidly. "The first 
time you ever saw my pussy, you were hard for _hours_."

My blush was agreement enough.

"First impressions are usually pretty powerful," she said. "And 
if those impressions are reinforced..."

"Pavlov would be proud," I said aloud.

She gave me a funny look.

"Sorry," I said, shrugging. "It's just something I heard once."

"Well, it makes sense. Positive reinforcement is a strong 
motivator," she said. Then she laughed.

"What?"

"I didn't think we'd be having a conversation about Pavlov and 
sexual preferences," she said. When I started to apologize, she 
shushed me with a finger on my lips. "It's okay. It's just a 
little... unusual."

"No kidding."

"I think we started this whole conversation with tit fucking, 
though," she said, her eyes flashing playfully. "Do you want to 
fuck my tits?" she asked, pushing them together for emphasis.

"I dunno," I said. "If you don't enjoy it..."

"I didn't say that. I said I _do_ enjoy it, but that it doesn't 
particularly excite me. There's a difference. If it'll give you 
pleasure, then I'll definitely enjoy it. But I probably won't get 
off from it."

"In that case--"

"Paul," she said, cutting me off gently. "Not everything is about 
an orgasm. You know that."

I nodded.

"Doing something your partner enjoys is part of the fun."

"You're right," I said.

"Don't sound so down about it," she said, lifting my chin. "It'll 
be fun."

When she grinned, I couldn't help but smile in reply.

"Reach into the top drawer on the nightstand," she said, throwing 
her leg over my hips, her pussy pulling free of my shaft. 
"There's a bottle of lotion in there."

I playfully held up the vibrator that I discovered next to the 
lotion.

"I said I didn't have any _real_ penises," she said, half 
defensively, half jokingly.

I grinned and reached for the lotion. Then, "Do you think I 
could... um...?"

"Could what?" she asked, rolling to her back and gesturing for me 
to straddle her chest.

"Do you think I could come on your tits?"

"Sure," she said, her eyes flashing in anticipation. Then she 
watched as I squirted lotion on my cock. "This should be fun," 
she said.

I spread the creamy--and cold!--lotion over my hard-on, coating 
it liberally.

"Squirt some in my cleavage, too," she said, which I did.

Finally, we were ready. She pushed her breasts together and I 
slid my cock between them. They were warm and soft, and even 
though the feeling was completely different from a pussy or 
mouth, I liked it.

Susan smiled up at me as I began thrusting. Unfortunately, her 
hands grew slippery from the lotion, and she had a hard time 
holding her breasts together. I also discovered that tit fucking 
and regular fucking were vastly different. With a pussy, I didn't 
really have to worry about where I thrust; in and out was usually 
good enough. With breasts, I had to pay attention to each thrust, 
to make sure I didn't slip out of the valley; in other words, I 
had to _aim_.

It took me a while to come, and we cheated a little (Susan 
squirted more lotion in her palm and gave me a handjob), but I 
eventually coated her chest with pearly drops of semen. She 
grinned up at me and then looked back down at her coated breasts. 
Her finger circled one sperm-covered nipple before she glanced 
up, her eyes bright.

"That was fun," she said.

I sat back on my haunches, panting.

"I like watching you come," she added. "You shoot so much that 
it's a drawn-out event."

I swallowed hard and then nodded.

"Although you didn't shoot as much that time," she said. "I think 
I might've drained you earlier." She feigned a surprised look and 
tried to seem innocent at the same time. Then she laughed. "Come 
on," she said at last, patting me on the thigh in a gesture to 
move, "let's shower before I start dinner."

-----

While Susan fixed dinner, I used the living room phone to call 
Gina.

She teased me good-naturedly about not calling to tell her that I 
had arrived safely. She probably knew what I'd been doing, of 
course, but that didn't stop her from giving me a hard time.

We talked for a few minutes about the weather in Atlanta, which 
had turned foul. The weather at camp wasn't all that great 
either, but since Atlanta was to the west, the South Carolina 
weather was bound to get worse as the front moved through.

"Um... there's something I need to ask you," Gina said at last.

"Sure. Shoot."

"Regan called, and..."

I felt my expression harden. "And...?"

"She invited me to go skiing with her."

Gina's family and mine usually went skiing in Utah, the week 
between Christmas and New Year's.

"Before _our_ trip," Gina hastily added. "Her family's got a 
chalet in Killington, Vermont. She was going up there next week, 
with Margot Seaford and a couple of the other girls. She wanted 
to know if I could go."

"What did you tell her?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

"I told her I'd have to ask my parents. But..."

"But what?"

"But I really wanted to ask you. If I want to go, my parents'll 
let me. You know that."

I silently nodded.

"But I wanted to talk to you first," Gina said. Then, quietly, "I 
know how you feel about Regan."

I tried to set aside my feelings for the blonde sorority girl. 
After all, Regan wasn't my girlfriend; _Gina_ was. "Do you _want_ 
to go?" I asked at last.

"It'd be fun," Gina said, "but... well... I kinda got the impression 
that Regan _expects_ me to go."

"One of those 'pledge Gina' kind of things?" I asked.

"Exactly."

I tried not to seethe about Regan's casual manipulation of the 
people around her.

"I won't go if you don't want me to," Gina said diffidently.

"I didn't say that," I said. "It's just... well..."

"Yeah."

"Tell me something...," I said after a moment.

"What?"

"Are Regan and Rod together? I mean, they haven't broken up 
recently?"

"Not that I've heard," Gina said quizzically. "I mean, Regan 
usually calls me when she and Rod have a fight, so as far as I 
know, they're getting along fine."

"Then I say go for it."

"Go for it?" she asked, perplexed.

"Go skiing with the girls. Have fun."

"Oh, Paul," she said, brightening. "You're sure?"

"Sure," I said, affecting nonchalance. When Regan and Rod were 
broken up, Regan usually monopolized Gina's time, which made _my_ 
relationship difficult. If Regan and Rod were boyfriend-
girlfriend, then I shouldn't have to worry. Much.

"Oh, thank you, Paul," Gina gushed.

I tried not to sound too magnanimous. After all, Gina didn't 
really need my _permission_ to do anything she wanted to. But I 
was proud of her for thinking of my feelings before agreeing to 
go.

With a bemused grin, I listened as she related the details of the 
trip and the girls who were going (Regan, Margot, Jessica 
Roedeffer, Hayley Devlin, and a couple of other girls whose names 
I recognized).

The girls planned to meet in Atlanta on Wednesday and then fly to 
Boston. From Boston, they'd take a commuter flight to Rutland, 
Vermont. Finally, they'd drive from Rutland to Killington. It 
seemed like a lot of effort just to get to the ski resort, but 
judging by the description of the chalet and the resort itself, 
the trip would be worth it.

"When are you coming back?" I asked.

"Two days before Christmas," she said. "I'm really looking 
forward to it, Paul. Thank you."

Gina was excited, and I was happy for her. We talked for several 
more minutes, but she needed to call Regan and make final plans, 
so we said we loved each other and hung up.

Then I called Kendall. Her mother answered.

"May I please speak to Kendall?" I asked.

"Sure, Paul," Melissa said. "Hold on a second."

"Hi," Kendall said cheerfully, a moment later.

"Hi yourself."

"What're you up to?" she asked.

We talked for a few minutes as I worked up the nerve to tell her 
that I was at Susan's house. I don't know why, but I guess I 
expected Kendall to be upset (since Susan was _another_ woman 
that she had to share me with). Unfortunately, I knew that if I 
postponed the admission any longer, I'd only sound like I was 
hiding something. So I told her where I was.

"Oh, okay," she said.

_That's it?_ I silently wondered.

"Did you drive over?" she asked.

"No, I flew."

"Oh." Her tone spoke volumes.

"It's completely safe," I said, trying not to sound exasperated.

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh... um... okay. Sorry."

"That's okay. So, how long are you staying? Just the weekend?"

"Probably," I said. "Although there's a low pressure front moving 
through, and I won't be able to fly back until it's past."

"You won't be able to...?" she asked, worry creeping into her tone.

I took a moment to explain VFR versus IFR, and why I wasn't 
certified to fly using only my instruments.

"So you're not going to fly until it's safe?"

"Of course not," I said. "That's a quick way to get into trouble. 
_Big_ trouble."

"Would they take away your license or something?" she asked.

"No," I said, trying not to chuckle when I realized that she 
didn't Get It. "Worse," I continued, "it's a quick way to get 
dead."

"Dead?" she gulped.

"Yeah," I said seriously. "Dead. All sorts of things can happen 
if you do something stupid in an airplane." With an angry 
headshake, I realized that I wasn't helping with her aversion to 
flying. "Anyway, let's change the subject."

"Let's," she said, her voice subdued.

"I was thinking of heading back on Monday. And I thought maybe 
you'd like to come down to Atlanta for a couple of days, next 
weekend. How's that sound?"

"What about Gina?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

I didn't want her to think that I invited her to come to Atlanta 
simply because Gina was going out of town, so I made sure it 
sounded like I was thinking about it _before_ I learned about 
Gina's trip. In reality, I _had_ been thinking about inviting 
Kendall to Atlanta, but I hadn't settled on a good time to ask. 
Gina's trip to Killington simply gave me the shove that I needed.

"So," I finished, "if you want to come down and spend a few days, 
I could fly in and pick you up on Thursday or Friday." I didn't 
think she'd want to fly, but I guess I was trying to cleverly 
coerce her into it.

"That sounds great," she said. "Except for the flying part."

"Why not?"

"Well," she temporized, "I'll have luggage."

"The plane's got room for luggage," I said.

"It won't be too heavy?"

"Nope."

For the next few minutes, we went back and forth. For every 
reason she brought up not to fly, I countered. Her arguments were 
mostly spurious, but I guess I was too stubborn to give up. Well, 
I was too stubborn for a minute or two.

"You just don't wanna fly," I accused at last.

"No, I don't," she said softly, surprising me. "I'm sorry," she 
continued. "I know you enjoy it, and I try to bite my tongue when 
you tell me about it, but if anything were to happen to you..."

"Nothing's going to happen," I said, my tone soothing.

"I know that, in my head. But I still worry about you."

"I'm a good pilot," I said. "I'm careful and conscientious. I've 
had good training, and I'm on the ball."

"I know you are," she said. "But please, for me, can you just 
drive up to get me?"

"Sure," I said at last.

"Thank you," she said, obviously relieved. After a pause, she 
changed the subject. "So, what're you and Susan doing, as if I 
couldn't guess?"

"Yeah," I admitted, my face heating, "some of that. But mostly, I 
guess I just wanted to get away from Atlanta. You know?"

"That sounds like a good idea," she said.

_Is she talking about Gina?_ I wondered.

"The end of the quarter is always crazy. And then with the 
holidays..."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Besides," she said, "Susan has always been a source of comfort 
for you." Then she laughed. "In more ways than one," she added.

We talked for another fifteen minutes, and she sounded happier 
than I could recall. When I finally told her I loved her and said 
goodbye, I felt really good. I bounced up from the couch and 
sauntered into the kitchen.

"That sounded like it went well," Susan said, wiping her hands on 
her apron.

"Could you hear?" I asked. I wasn't upset; I simply wanted to 
know how much of the conversation I'd need to repeat.

"Not really," she said, "but you sounded happy."

"Yeah, things with both girls seem to be going well. They're not 
going well _together_, but individually, things're great."

"That's a start," Susan said.

I nodded. Then I told her about Gina's ski trip and Kendall's 
plans to come to Atlanta.

When I finished, she nodded sagely.

"So anyway," I said, "that's my life in a nutshell."

"It sounds like things are getting a little better," she said. 
When I nodded, she changed the subject. "I thought we'd invite 
Jeremiah and Lenore to dinner tonight," she said. "Is that okay?"

"Sure," I said.

"Would you give him a call?" she asked.

It felt strange to actually call Gunny, but a cold drizzle had 
begun to fall, and I wasn't eager to walk through it to his 
house.

After he got over his surprise at hearing my voice, he quickly 
accepted our dinner invitation.

-----

Dinner with Gunny and Lenore was enjoyable. Lenore was 
attractive, if not as attractive as Susan. She had a nice body, 
and her breasts were small enough that they hadn't sagged much. 
She treated Gunny like a king, and while he was too hard-bitten 
to be completely infatuated, he certainly seemed happy.

After dinner, we braved the chill rain to soak in the hot tub. 
With the water up to our necks, though, we didn't _care_ what the 
weather was like. About thirty minutes later, when Susan and 
Lenore headed inside to fix coffee and dessert, Gunny and I 
stayed in the hot tub for a few minutes.

"She's pretty nice, huh?" he asked.

"She sure is, Gunny," I said.

Then he leaned close. "She's so hot to trot that she could 
blister paint off a bulkhead," he said. "When she gets going, I 
think I've died and gone to heaven."

Fortunately, the darkness hid my blush.

"I'm no young recruit," he added, "but I think I do a pretty good 
job keeping up with her."

"I'm sure you do, Gunny," I said, embarrassed, but determined not 
to let him know it.

"And she may not have a big rack, but let me tell you, she's got 
the best ass I've laid eyes on since I retired from the Corps. I 
can't say I'm much of an ass-man, but I'm not about to turn it 
away if it's offered."

At that, I laughed.

The rest of the night was relaxing. We sat in the living room and 
had coffee and dessert. Well, Gunny and Lenore had coffee, and I 
merely picked at my dessert. (I had to watch my weight more than 
ever, since I wasn't doing regular workouts over the break.)

As we talked, the conversation turned to my college career. I was 
surprised by how much Gunny knew about my progress at school. I 
shot a glance at Susan, who blithely ignored me. Gunny then tried 
to talk me into joining the Marine Corps, but I think it was more 
out of habit. I tried not to blush as he sang my praises to 
Lenore, who smiled at his affection for me.

A little later, Lenore put her hand on Gunny's leg and suggested 
that it was getting late. Translation: "It's time to go." When 
Lenore discreetly wiggled her hips, Gunny practically leapt up 
from the couch. After goodbyes, they put on their shoes and 
coats.

At the door, Gunny turned to me and then stood straight.

"You'd've made a fine Marine," he said. "And I'd've been proud to 
serve under you. But I suppose this country needs more civilians 
who know shit from Shinola."

"Jeremiah," Lenore chided, blushing.

With a grin, he shook my hand. Then he stepping into the rainy 
night and opened his umbrella.

Lenore thanked Susan for her hospitality and joined Gunny.

When the door closed behind them, Susan stepped close and I put 
my arm around her.

"It's interesting," I said, pausing for effect, "that Gunny knew 
so much about my life."

"Oh, I'm sure a little birdie told him."

"Little birdie, my ass," I grumbled good-naturedly.

"He's proud of you," she said unapologetically. "He should be. 
You've turned into a fine young man."

"I thought I was a fine young stud," I shot back.

"You _are_. When you're not being too clever for your own good," 
she added. Then she turned serious. "Did you have plans for the 
rest of the night?"

"Believe it or not," I said, "yeah."

She arched an eyebrow.

"I want to sit on the couch, do absolutely nothing, and read a 
book. I haven't been able to do that in a long time. Is that 
okay?"

"That sounds _perfect_," she said.

-----

The next morning when I awoke, I simply stared at the ceiling for 
a few minutes. When Susan rolled over and snuggled close, 
however, I put my arm around her. She was half awake, so I guided 
her hand to my morning erection.

"Mmmmm," she said softly. "I definitely miss morning wood."

"Do you remember what to do with it?" I teased.

"Just for that," she said, squeezing my erection for emphasis, 
"I'm going to make you wait."

"I can always take care of things myself," I said. "That's what I 
usually do."

"Even with all the sex you're getting, you still masturbate?" she 
asked, semi-incredulous.

"Oh, yeah," I said sincerely. "If I don't... um... relieve the 
pressure, sex is all I can think about. It's... distracting."

"I'll bet," she said, laughing. Then she sat up, her hair 
delightfully disheveled. As she brushed it back with her hand, 
her breasts swung gently. Then she turned back the covers.

"You weren't serious about making me wait, were you?" I asked.

She nodded. Then, as if to emphasize her point, she stood up.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked, throwing back the 
covers to reveal my hard-on. I guess I was hoping to entice her 
into taking care of me.

"If you need _me_ to show you," she said, grinning impishly, 
"then you're going to be pretty... distracted."

I made a sound of frustration. It was _playful_ frustration, but 
frustration nonetheless.

"If you'd like," she said slyly, "I think I could arrange a B&B."

I raised my eyebrows.

"You like?" she asked.

I tried not to look like an idiot as I nodded eagerly.

"What would you like for breakfast?" she asked, laughing. 
"Because I _know_ how you want your blowjob."

She ended up fixing me cereal and toast, since I wasn't willing 
to wait for her to make something else. Part of that was for her 
benefit--I wanted her to know how sexy I thought she was--but 
part of it was also because I was horny, and I _really_ wanted 
her to wrap her lips around the base of my cock.

I barely touched my cereal and toast, but I didn't care. When I 
came, I gripped the edge of the table and grunted as I thrust my 
hips upward, impaling her with my shaft. She moaned as I flooded 
her throat with come.

When my orgasm subsided, I sagged in the chair.

Susan grinned up at me from between my legs. Then she wiped the 
corners of her mouth. "Ahhhh," she sighed. "The breakfast of 
champions."

My dick twitched in agreement.

-----

The next couple of days were relaxing, although Susan and I never 
did talk about my relationship problems. I sensed that it was by 
design. A couple of times, I thought she was going to say 
something, but she never did. I think she was giving me a break 
from my troubles.

Instead of talking about my problems, I helped her around the 
house. We packed up Thanksgiving decorations. We took Christmas 
decorations out of the attic. We moved furniture and rearranged 
the dining room. While she cleaned, I did little household 
projects like fixing squeaky doors and tightening loose fixtures.

In the evening, we relaxed. We read; she had her magazines and I 
had my science fiction. I took out my sketchpad and drew 
buildings from memory. I also dabbled at creating my own designs. 
My style was undisciplined and tended toward hodgepodge elements, 
but it was a step beyond simply reproducing what I'd already 
seen.

We also had sex. Unfortunately, after Sunday morning's B&B, 
Susan's throat was sore.

"It wasn't designed for something as big as your dick," she 
gently informed me.

That didn't stop her from sucking me; she just couldn't take me 
all the way. In addition, I enjoyed the simple pleasure of 
fucking her without worrying about what Kendall or Gina would 
think.

Each night, we soaked in the hot tub, letting the heat and water 
work its magic. On Sunday night, we had sex there, the bubbles 
caressing our bodies as I thrust into her. Monday night, our last 
together, we moved to her bed and finished what we'd begun in the 
tub.

Tuesday morning, the weather cleared, and we both knew it was 
time for me to return to Atlanta. We didn't talk about it, we 
both just _knew_.

After a B&B--with a _deep_ blowjob, since her throat wasn't sore 
anymore--we took a shower and got dressed. I called my parents to 
let them know that I was coming home. At the airport, I filed my 
flight plan and checked the weather. As we walked out to the 
Cessna, we were quiet.

"We never did talk about Kendall and Gina," I said at last.

"No." She didn't need to say more.

"But in a way," I said, "I answered my own questions."

Her expression invited me to continue.

"I guess I _do_ need to make a decision," I said. "I don't want 
to, but I've _got_ to."

She nodded.

"You were waiting for me to come to that conclusion myself, 
weren't you?"

"Yes," she said. "I knew you would, though. Sooner or later."

"How come you always know what I need?"

"I don't," she said simply.

I looked at her skeptically, my brow creased.

"I don't know what you need," she elaborated. "But you've got a 
good head on your shoulders. If you had wanted to talk, we 
would've talked. But you've always been introspective when it 
comes to big decisions. You analyze the problem and look at it 
from all angles," she said. Then she turned and straightened my 
shirt collar.

It took me a moment to realize that she was using the gesture as 
an excuse to organize her thoughts.

"Sometimes," she said slowly, looking me in the eye, "decisions 
aren't easy. That's what being an adult is about. You're..." She 
cleared her throat. "You're an exceptional young man. You're my 
friend, my confidant, and my lover. But this is something you had 
to do on your own. I can't live your life for you. I don't have 
all the answers, Paul. No one does. More important," she said, "I 
can't _lead_ you to the answer; you have to find it on your own."

I nodded.

"So this weekend was about letting you relax, and giving you time 
to think. And perhaps," she added with a poignant smile, "about 
letting you enjoy some... uncomplicated... sex."

I felt my face heat, but I nodded in agreement.

"Believe it or not," she said, "I think I enjoyed the relaxation 
more than the sex."

"Really?"

"Well, the sex was pretty good too," she said, which was an 
understatement. Then she looked up and smiled.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"You're welcome. And thank _you_," she said. When I arched my 
eyebrows, she feigned reproof. "Don't think I didn't notice how... 
oh... _enthusiastic_ you were for my, ahem, feminine charms," she 
said. "Overly enthusiastic, perhaps?"

I shook my head with finality. "No," I added. "Weren't you the 
one who taught me that making love is more than just a physical 
connection?"

"Was that me?" she asked disingenuously.

"Yes, it was," I said. "So, no, I wasn't being 'overly 
enthusiastic.' I was being honest. Well," I said with a chuckle, 
"sometimes my _dick_ was being honest too. The rest of me knows 
when to shut up and enjoy a good thing, though."

"You say the sweetest things," she said, her cheeks coloring.

"I mean them."

"I know," she said softly. "Thank you." Then, "Before I break 
down completely, I'd better see you off. I've had plenty of 
experience waving at departing planes, so I know what I'm doing."

I laughed softly.

"I'm serious."

"I know," I said. Then I bent to kiss her.

"You look so dashing in your leather jacket," she said, blinking 
back tears. Then she looked up, her eyes liquid and full of 
emotion. "I love you," she said simply. "I always will."

I caught her in an embrace and simply held her. When we 
separated, almost a minute later, her eyes were clear and bright.

"Fly along now," she said, affecting a stern look. "Shoo."

"Yes, ma'am."

She watched as I did a careful preflight. I hugged her again and 
then climbed into the plane, where I went through my checklist 
and finally started the engine. The radio was still tuned to the 
airport's Unicom frequency, so I monitored it for several moments 
and then announced my taxi intentions.

From the end of the runway, I could see Susan's tiny figure as 
she stood by the FBO and watched. She must have sensed me 
looking, because she waved. I knew she couldn't see me, but I 
waved in reply. Then I pushed the throttle to full open and began 
my takeoff roll. Shortly before I reached sixty knots, I put a 
little back-pressure on the yoke and the ground fell away 
smoothly.

After climbing forty or fifty feet, I glanced back at the FBO and 
waggled my wings in a final farewell.

The day was bright, crisp, and clear, with the cerulean sky of 
winter stretching as far as the eye could see. It was a beautiful 
day, and my spirits matched it. As the plane climbed, I was 
reminded of a poem by John Gillespie McGee.

I didn't know what would happen when I returned to earth--and my 
life--but at the moment, I had slipped those surly bonds, and I 
was happy.

-----

Copyright (c) 2005 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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