Summer Voodoo
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Summer StormsChapter 9 free porn video
On Saturday, I did a light workout, went for a swim, then came back up to the clubhouse to shoot some pool by myself. I spent most of the morning there, simply lounging around and trying to pass the time. Since Susan was still in Columbia with Stacy, Mr. Kershaw—the year-round resident who took care of camp reservations—greeted new arrivals.
About an hour before lunch, I heard the sound of a car approaching and rushed out to see who it was. I was disappointed when it turned out to be a truck, pulling an Airstream trailer. It must be Normandy, I decided. Norm and Dee Brock. Mr. Kershaw went out to greet them, and directed them to their usual spot.
When he came back into the coolness of the clubhouse, he grinned at me.
“Who’re you waitin’ on, son? As if I didn’t know.” He practically cackled. “It’s that Coulter girl, ain’t it? The middle one?”
I nodded. “Yessir.”
“Don’t call me sir,” he said curtly. “I work for a livin’.”
I stared at him for a moment, perplexed.
“Call me Gunny,” he said.
I nodded.
“You’re waitin’ on the Coulter girl, ain’t ya?”
I nodded again.
“Nice girl. I’d go after her m’self, if I was your age!” He slapped his knee and laughed so hard he lapsed into a coughing fit.
When he recovered, I smiled at him, but didn’t say a word.
“You think I’m kiddin’?”
“No, Gunny,” I said.
“Darn right, I’m not!” He grinned at me and leaned closer. “You dip your wick yet?”
Holy shit! Did the old geezer just ask me if I was having sex with Gina? I smiled nervously, at a complete loss for words, and tried not to blush.
“Don’t think I don’t know what goes on around here,” he said, still leaning close to me. He laid his finger alongside his nose and brushed it toward the tip. “I was once’t young, dumb, and full of come myself.” He chortled again and I contemplated my options for escape.
Fortunately, I was saved by a new arrival. Outside the clubhouse, a car pulled to a stop and a family got out. I recognized them, but I only knew their first names. They were Kevin and Leigh somebody, with two kids, a girl and a boy. Mr. Kershaw greeted them perfunctorily and they headed to one of the motel-style rooms across the road from the clubhouse.
When they returned, they had taken off their clothes. Mr. Kershaw went over to talk to them again and I learned their last name, Nolan. Kevin Nolan was short, wore his hair in a crew cut, and reminded me of an accountant. He also sported one of the biggest dicks I’ve ever seen—even soft, it was longer than mine was when I was erect. His wife was short as well, probably not even five feet tall. She had large, firm breasts, flaming red hair, and a matching bush. They appeared to be in their early thirties, and were both attractive. I didn’t remember their kids’ names, but the girl looked about six and the boy was probably nine or ten. They went to store their food baskets and Mr. Kershaw returned to me.
“Great rack on that one,” he said.
I nodded.
“I bet they bounce around real nice.”
I tried not to blush at Mr. Kershaw’s brazen assessment of Leigh Nolan.
“And I bet that strawberry honey-pot tastes nice and fine,” he said.
I frantically looked around to make sure no one overheard him.
“So, Mr. Kershaw...”
He glared at me.
“Sorry. Gunny,” I said. I was desperate to change the subject. “How long have you lived at camp?”
Gunny Kershaw was more than happy to talk about himself, as long as I nodded at the right times and asked a few one-word questions. At first, I was embarrassed by his “dirty old man” comments, but he certainly knew how to tell a story, and I quickly found myself listening raptly.
He’d been a Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant and had fought in World War II and then in Korea. He told me stories of his time in Japan, between the wars. Most of his stories from that time revolved around his exploits with “geesha” girls.
Fortunately, before he could launch into tales of his American conquests, my family came up from the lake for lunch. Before I knew what was happening, Mom invited Mr. Kershaw to join us for lunch. He happily accepted, and I blanched at the possible conversational topics.
Much to my surprise, he was extremely polite to both my mother and my sister, and he was downright deferential to Dad—even calling him “sir.” I tried not to gawk as a man twenty-five years older than my father called him sir, but Dad seemed to take it in stride. After lunch, Mom asked if I were going to come down to the lake with them.
“The boy’s waitin’ for his girl, ma’am,” Mr. Kershaw said. “You raised him right, Mrs. Hughes. He’s a mighty polite young man.”
Mom laughed brightly, leaned down, and kissed him on the forehead. He blushed six shades of red and smiled bashfully. When my family headed back down to the lake, Mr. Kershaw leaned toward me again. I braced myself for the expected off-color comment. I didn’t know how I’d react to him talking about my mother, so I steeled myself.
“She’s a good woman, your momma,” he said.
Huh? I looked at him, bewildered, and he chortled.
“Your daddy’s a military man,” he said, as if that were all the explanation I needed.
“Um ... he used to be. He was in the Navy.”
He nodded judiciously. “I may’ve been out a while, but ain’t forgot how to treat an officer and his family.”
“Oh...”
“Good man, your daddy.”
I blinked.
He grinned at my confused look and then launched into a hoary tale involving three drunken “geesha” girls, some chocolate sauce, and something called a “pillow book.”
Finally, I was ready to do something else, anything else. I know Mr. Kershaw was enjoying having someone to listen to his stories, but I was ready to bolt. Stan and Terri—the woman from under the counter—had arrived and been directed to their usual cabin next to ours. But for the past two and a half hours, no one else had shown up. Eventually, I told Mr. Kershaw that I’d better go see my family.
Down at the lake, I dived into the water to cool off and then started swimming for the raft. Erin was lying on her back, soaking up the sun, and didn’t even open her eyes when I climbed up next to her.
“They’re still not here yet?” she asked as I lay down next to her.
“No,” I said disgustedly.
She giggled sympathetically, but was otherwise silent.
I slicked my hair back and tried to relax. After a while, I rolled onto my stomach and folded my arms beneath my chin. I don’t know how long I lay there, but I must have closed my eyes and dozed for a little while.
After a while, I felt the raft rock when Erin slipped into the water. The Nolan kids were playing in the shallow end of the lake and I tried to ignore their laughs and squeals. The raft rocked again and I felt Erin climb next to me, dripping cold water on my legs.
“D’you mind, Erin? You’re dripping on me.”
She shifted and I felt her kneel next to me. I didn’t think much about it until she suddenly started tickling me. I’m ashamed to say I overreacted. Drastically. Instead of just rolling away from her, I executed a textbook wrestling reversal and swept her off the raft. Unfortunately, I neatly flipped myself into the cold water in the process.
Note to self: A six-by-ten raft is not a wrestling mat.
I came up sputtering and glaring murderously, prepared to dunk her for my trouble. She bobbed to the surface and I...
... came face to face with a very surprised set of glittering dark eyes, white teeth, and slick, shiny black hair.
“I’m ... oh, no...” I cast about for something coherent to say. “Shit.” Well, I thought cynically, that wasn’t it.
“Hello to you too,” Gina said archly, grinning at me.
“Sorry. Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay, you goof.”
I blinked and treaded water.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” she asked shyly.
I felt my neck and face heating. “Uh ... hi.”
I looked over to the lake’s edge and my heart sank when I realized not only was my family watching, hers was too. They were all laughing. Great, I thought to myself, the first time I see Gina in almost a year, and I unceremoniously toss her into the water—in front of her whole family.
“Is she okay?” my dad called out.
I wanted to sink to the bottom and drown myself.
Gina grinned at me and then turned to wave to my dad. “I’m fine!” She gave me a smoldering look and climbed onto the raft. She scooted to the center and sat demurely on her knees, her legs folded beneath her.
I put my hands on the canvas-covered edge, gave a strong scissor-kick to propel myself upward, and hoisted myself onto the raft. Once I’d gotten my balance, I ran both hands through my hair. I slung the water off them and turned to look at Gina.
She was staring at me, open-mouthed, with an expression I was gradually becoming familiar with. She shut her mouth with a clomp and I actually heard her gulp. Although I knew my body had changed, I was still a little embarrassed when people stared at me. I guess I still felt like I was the same pudgy kid I’d been the year before.
I used the silence to study Gina. She’d changed a little—maybe she was a little thinner, or taller (I couldn’t tell, with her kneeling). Her face was more adult, too. I don’t think I can explain it, but she looked more mature. Her hair was shorter, and I liked it.
I noticed with a start that she already had the beginning of a tan, with tan lines where her bikini had covered her dusky skin. She had triangles of paler skin framing her breasts, her nipples brown and crinkly from the cold water. Just the top of her sparse pubic strip was visible between her thighs. With a pang of guilty pleasure, I noticed she wore the silver bracelet I’d given her for her birthday.
She saw me looking at it and smiled up at me. “I got you a birthday present, too,” she said shyly. “But I wanted to give it to you in person.”
She’d mentioned that in the last letter I’d gotten from her before my family came to camp.
“But I don’t know if it’ll fit you now,” she said.
Great! I get even bigger, and her gift won’t fit. I guess I was lucky—she hadn’t immediately told me how much I’d changed. I know it must seem strange, but I was kind of tired of listening to, “How much you’ve changed.” I hadn’t changed at all, I was still me.
“Um ... that’s cool. It’s the spirit that counts,” I said lamely. I lowered myself to the raft and sat cross-legged while Gina continued to stare at me.
“I’m sorry,” she said, catching herself. “It’s just that you’ve—”
“Changed so much.” I tried to keep the sardonic tone out of my voice.
She looked down and frowned slightly.
“It’s okay,” I said as gently as I could. “I guess I’m still a little self-conscious. I mean, I know I’ve changed, but sometimes I still feel like people are staring at me. I guess I also still feel like the chunky kid everyone’s laughing at.”
“You were never chunky,” she said vehemently. “And no one’s ever laughed at you.”
I wished it were true, but I decided to let her keep her illusions.
All of a sudden, she reached up and ran her fingers through my damp hair. “Your hair’s longer too. I like it.” She blushed when she realized she’d just touched me. She tried not to pull her hand back too quickly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “I liked it.”
She smiled shyly and looked at me with wide, searching eyes. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” My stomach lurched when I thought about what I had to tell her, but I tried not to let my emotions reach my face. “I waited all morning for you, and most of the afternoon, but...”
“Yeah, we left Charleston late, because of Leah. She spent the night at a friend’s house last night and didn’t come home when she was supposed to.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her disgusted expression.
“Kara and I were ready to kill her ... What’re you smiling at?”
I tried not to blush, but I’m sure I wasn’t successful.
“What?”
“You’re cute when you’re mad.”
She smiled again, diffidently, and focused on her hands.
“Besides,” I said. “It gave me time to talk to Mr. Kershaw. You know, the man who takes care of reservations.”
She rolled her eyes at me and nodded.
“Aunt Susan’s in Columbia for the weekend, and he’s greeting all the people who arrive.”
“Duh.”
“Oh yeah,” I said sheepishly. “He greeted you all.”
She nodded theatrically.
I blushed and hung my head, pretending to stare at the canvas of the raft. When I looked up, she was smiling at me. “What?” I asked.
“You’re cute when you’re a goof.” She grinned at me. “You may be a goof, but you’re my goof.”
You say that now, I thought to myself. I smiled at her and tried to hide my growing anxiety.
The entire Coulter family ate dinner with us that night. Gina and Kara teased Leah about the day’s late start, but it wasn’t mean-spirited, just good-natured sisterly jabs. For her part, Leah mostly ignored her older sisters and held an animated conversation with Erin. Most of their conversation, what I heard of it, consisted of talk about boys. When I couldn’t hear what they were saying, they had their heads together and were giggling.
Gina looked at them indulgently, and then looked at me as if to say, “Ahhh, kids.”
I grinned in reply and felt very mature. When I looked up, Kara was smiling at the two of us. Gina blushed and reached for my hand under the table. She twined her fingers through mine and squeezed. I smiled at her and rubbed my thumb along her index finger.
After dinner, our parents wanted to go for a walk. Erin and Leah headed up to the Coulter cabin. When Kara basically disappeared, Gina and I unexpectedly found ourselves alone. Hand in hand, we walked down to the sand volleyball court. The benches along the sidelines were mostly private. We sat on one, very close but not touching, still holding hands.
Before she’d gone to Columbia, Susan and I had a long talk about Gina. She’d given me some really good advice about what I should do, and how I should do it.
The gist of her advice was that I needed to show Gina that I still loved her, but that I wasn’t going to take advantage of her. Basically, it would be a Bad Idea to have sex with her, even oral sex.
I knew, and Susan agreed, that Gina was probably going to be shocked and angry when she found out about Amy. She might never want to speak to me again, and I didn’t want her to feel that I’d preyed upon her love for me, just to get lucky. So I basically decided I wasn’t going to do anything more than kiss her, no matter how much either of us wanted to take things further. Anything else would seem like a violation of her trust. I fervently hoped I wouldn’t have to hurt her feelings in the process. That, I thought regretfully, was for later.
I was also walking a fine line about when to tell her about Amy—not to mention Stacy and Susan. (Of course, Susan and I had decided that I didn’t need to say anything about Mom.) I needed time to show her I still cared for her, but not too much time. If I took too long, it would seem like I’d only told her out of shame or guilt, not out of a genuine desire to come clean and work things out.
So I’d planned on spending time with Gina, sort of proving I loved her, for a day or two. On Sunday night, I was going to have The Talk with her and take my lumps—for however long I had to take them. In the meantime, I was going to keep the physical side of our relationship to a minimum.
Unfortunately, real life wasn’t that simple.
When she sat next to me on the bench, I could feel the warmth of her body. My palms started to get a little sweaty and I felt my heart race. When Gina scooted closer to me, my mouth suddenly went dry. I yearned to reach out and touch her, to hold her, to kiss her, but I knew that I had to keep my desires under control. If not...
Before things could go any further, I turned to face her—to keep my raging hormones in check— and she turned as well. My left knee was touching her right one, and she still held my left hand.
The sun was just starting to dip toward the horizon, and the light turned her skin a reddish bronze. I tried not to stare at her body, but she was even more beautiful than I remembered. Her breasts were firm and round, and they shook slightly when she laughed. With an inward grin, I found myself trying to make her laugh, just to watch them move.
The contrast between her lighter and darker areas of skin was incredibly alluring, and my eyes were drawn to the juncture of her thighs. Since she was sitting with her legs spread slightly, I could barely make out the fleshy lips of her pussy. For a maudlin moment, I wondered if I’d ever get near them again. I shook myself out of my self-pitying reverie and tried to pay attention to what she was saying.
We talked about all sorts of things. She told me about her friend Lisa, and how supportive she had been when I “got stupid.” She also apologized for paying so much attention to school herself. It was nice to know she realized it took two people to grow apart, not just one. We talked about her year at school, some of her other friends (Wendy, Margaret, and Sonya), what she’d done before coming to camp, and any number of other things.
I told her about my wrestling season. She asked about some of my matches, so I told her about the first big one, the one with Emmett Carstairs (the arrogant prick). I’d since become a much better wrestler, and looked back at that match with a mixture of amusement and fondness. In fact, I really looked forward to wrestling him again. I didn’t know if I could beat him or not, but I vowed that he wouldn’t have the time—or the breath—to taunt me. Gina laughed when I told her about what had been going through my head while he was throwing me around the mat, and I tried not to focus on her quivering breasts.
She asked me about my friends, mostly things I’d mentioned in letters but hadn’t elaborated on. So I told her about Scott, Kelly, and the rest of the gang. While I did mention Amy, I carefully edited out the salacious parts. I told her about football games, and classes, and teachers I liked or didn’t like.
We ended up talking until it was dark, neither of us noticing when the sun had gone down. There were very few lights on this side of the camp, and I could barely make out her face and expressions. Suddenly, neither of us was talking. I turned in my seat and sat facing forward. She turned as well, and scooted close to me.
South Carolina has a smell all its own: the freshness of pine trees; the tang of the warm, sandy soil; even the smell of the humidity, thick and rich and full of life. But sitting there next to Gina, all I could smell was her scent, a warm girl sitting next to me, suddenly as nervous as I was.
“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it,” she said quietly.
“Mmm hmm.”
There was hardly any moon out, and the stars shone like pinpricks in the backdrop of the night. I looked up at them with her, and felt her take a deep breath. When she nudged against my arm, I knew what she wanted. I wanted it too, but I was suddenly scared. Would I be able to stop if she wanted more? Would she understand if I didn’t let things go too far? Would she even want to do anything more? Would she... ? Susan’s voice echoed in my mind, “Don’t over-analyze things.”
I lifted my arm and Gina snuggled against me.
“I missed you a lot,” she said.
“Yeah.”
Yeah? Was that all I could come up with?!
She laid her head on my shoulder and scooted against me. Her leg, soft and satiny, brushed against mine and she didn’t move away. I could smell her shampoo, clean and fragrant—the scent filled my nostrils and threatened to overwhelm me. I felt a stirring in my loins and frantically tried to think of something to avert an erection.
“Now that your family’s here,” I said, “we can play Marco Polo.” What idiot had gotten control of my mouth?!
She laughed and playfully slapped my leg. “You’re such a goof.” She sighed and moved her head against my shoulder. “But you’re my goof.”
Thankfully, I shut up after that. Gina was content to curl her legs underneath her and sit quietly as well.
We sat in silence, watching the stars (and the occasional airplane) move across the sky. With no lights around us, our eyes quickly adjusted, and we could actually see the pulse and twinkle of some of the dimmer stars.
When I felt her move, my heart raced and I turned to her. She lifted her head, and I knew what she wanted. I wanted the same thing. I ached for it. I wanted to taste her lips—her soft, supple lips—and lose myself in them. I wanted her tongue against mine. I wanted to feel her sweet breath on my cheek. I wanted...
She lifted her head and kissed me, tenderly at first. When she pulled back, I saw her lick her lips and taste me. She smiled and lifted her face again. I closed my eyes and bent my head to hers.
When I turned toward her and cupped her face, she arched her neck and pressed her lips into mine. I felt her right breast press against my side, and I finally lost the battle against my impending erection—in two microseconds, I was hard as iron. She pressed against me, and I felt the hard little pebble of her nipple against my ribs. Our kiss heated, and her breathing grew ragged. When we pulled back, I looked at her shadowed face and stroked her cheek with my thumb.
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