This story was also blogged by Lolita.
I adjusted the towel around my waist as we walked. A golf cart full of campers whirred past.
“Hey, Lolita!” a woman's voice called. “Oink, oink!”
Lolita looked back and oinked in response, explaining that this greeting referred to her all-female cabin's affiliation as self-annointed "pigs." This aside barely interrupted the stream-of-consciousness conversation in which I was more audience than participant.
She was obviously nervous. I took her hand.
“So, what was so taxing about your play date earlier?” I asked.
“Oh, he was mean! Mean, mean, mean,” she said. She stopped and lifted her skirt slightly. “I’m sure you can’t see it in the dark, but I know my thighs will be bruised tomorrow.”
“Ouch,” I said, looking at her legs glowing pale in the moonless night.
“The price I pay, huh? For being nice to a friend.” She lowered her skirt and continued to walk.
“You were pummeled for being nice?”
“Yeah, see, Bratboy is pretty new to ropes, so I let him tie me up. He wanted to do impact too, and I said that was fine . . .”
“You know, a beating. With toys. So anyway, he wailed on me, but good. I was in tears from the get go. That was fine by me, really, ‘cause I needed to release those toxins, those emotional toxins. Just too much . . . you know, stuff lately.”
“I can understand that.” I took her hand again.
Lolita talked about some of the things going on her life. After a bit, I stopped in the path and looked around. It was a dark area, and we were alone.
“Keep talking,” I said over my shoulder, stepping onto the grass. “I just need to pee.”
“Oh! Mind if I watch?” she asked, following me.
“No, that’s fine. Here, hold my towel.”
I set my feet apart and aimed my stream high into a bush.
“It’s too dark!” she complained. “I can’t see.”
“Come closer. You can at least hear my urine.”
She stood next to me. My free hand went around her waist.
We kissed like we had been waiting much too long for this moment. We had first seen one another about nine hours earlier.
My bladder empty, I gave it a good shake and turned to press myself against Lolita. My hands held her cheeks as our tongues found one another.
“Okay,” she said, pulling back. “Wow. Okay, so, I guess I should tell you a few things.”
“Tell me things,” I murmured into her ear.
“It’s just that . . . let’s just say I have issues.”
“Tell me about your issues,” I growled, licking my way down her neck.
She enumerated her issues. I unbuttoned her shirt.
I dropped her shirt to the path. She had a few more issues to go, so I unfastened her bra as I listened.
She reached the end of her list as I pinched her bare nipples.
“Is that it?” I asked, lowering my mouth to her cleavage. “Because ain’t nothing in that I can’t handle.”
“Well, sure, I mean, that’s it.” She wriggled under my tongue. “Pretty much. I mean, other than that, I have some issues with my body image.”
I stopped. I stood to look at her eyes.
“My body image. You know, I find it hard to believe that anyone would find me attractive.”
I squinted at her.
She shifted from side to side, nervously, lifting her hands to her neck. “You know,” she said, looking away before finally dropping her hands in resignation. “Because I’m fat.”
She looked back to me. My face was impassive.
I leaned to kiss her, my hand gently caressing the back her head. “Poor fat girl,” I whispered.
I grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled down, hard. She yelped and bent over.
“We need to have a little talk,” I said, calmly. “Come with me.”
I tugged on her hair and lead her off the path toward a tree. I walked at a casual pace, just faster than she could manage, bent and stumbling by my side.
I pushed past the low hanging branches to reach the grassy field at the campus center. I walked in long strides now; she struggled to keep pace.
Distant lamplight gleamed on the early morning dew.
My towel remained in a clump on the path, beside her shirt and bra.
Several yards into the field I let go of her hair. She stood up and shook out her hair. I unfastened her skirt and let it drop to the ground.
She was reduced to black leather boots.
“Huh, no panties,” I noted. I took her hair in hand again, forcing her to her knees. I brought her face to my cock and put my thumb on her lips. She opened her mouth, instinctively. I gave her my cock.
She began to suck it, fast, as I grew in her mouth. My hand kept a firm grip on her hair.
When I was fully erect, I gave a few deep thrusts to her throat, waiting for her gag. I heard a gurgle. I pulled out and pushed her head down. Lolita tumbled into the grass.
She rolled on her back, panting and looking up at me.
“Poor fat girl,” I said, looking down as I stepped to stand over her torso, my legs apart at either side of her. “No one would find her attractive.” I squatted down over her ribcage. I took her cheeks in my hand and leaned to kiss her, hard.
I sat back and grabbed her hair. I slapped her. Hard.
She gasped. I smiled and leaned forward. “Lolita, why the fuck should I be concerned with your ‘body image?’” I said with utter disdain. “What the hell do you take me for?”
She looked up at me, choking back sobs. “It’s just . . .” she swallowed. “I, you know, I read your blog . . .”
“Yes, Lolita, we’ve talked about my blog.”
“And . . . ,” she panted. “And the way you write about that big girl, Bridget . . .”
“What about Bridget, Lolita?” I asked, cocking my head to one side.
“Well . . . ,” she drew a breath and exhaled. “You just really like her.”
I leaned forward. “No, Lolita, I don’t ‘like’ Bridget. I love Bridget.”
I slapped her again. She cried out and turned with the blow. I moved my hand to hold her face in place. Her tears wet my palm.
“I love her because she is smart.” I slapped her.
“I love her because she is funny.” Slap.
“I love her because she is kind.” Slap.
“I love her because she is sexy.” Slap.
I leaned closer. Lolita winced in anticipation, sobbing out loud.
“And you know what else is true about Bridget, that big girl I love?” I caressed Lolita’s cheek as she looked at me, her eyes wet, her cheeks streaked. “Bridget, whom I love, sucks dick like a motherfucker.”
I pulled myself up Lolita’s body and lowered my cock into her mouth. She gasped for a breath as she took it. I leaned forward to rest my palms on the grass, and raised my legs on the balls of my feet.
I did pushups into Lolita’s face, forcing my cock in and out of her throat.
She gurgled and moaned.
She gagged and I pulled back. She burst into laughter. I stood over her, looking down.
“You have an absolutely gorgeous laugh,” I said, sweetly. “It really makes me happy to hear it.”
Lolita convulsed in giggles. I leaned down to roll her over. Her back was flecked with freshly mown grass. I put my foot on the side of her face, pushing her cheek into the earth. “You are making me very happy,” I repeated.
I crouched and slapped her ass. Lolita howled. I began to spank her, hard and fast.
“I’m so sorry I missed your spanking class today,” I apologized, rubbing her flesh to feel it warm to my beating. “I really am such an amateur.”
Lolita gasped in laughter as I rolled her again. I pushed her legs apart and fingered her slit to feel her wetness. Her laughter broke into forced breathing as I fingered the piercing on her clit.
Our conversation was over for now.
I leaned to bury my face in her skin, biting marks into her shoulders, her breasts, her belly.
After so much foreplay during the evening, my teeth ached to taste flesh.
I moved to kneel between her legs, taking her piercing between my teeth. I flicked rapidly with my tongue. Lolita moaned, giggling lightly, as two of my fingers entered her.
I curved my fingers up inside her until I heard the moan I wanted. She was no longer giggling.
My palm grew wet, her juices joining her tears in my hand.
As her body went limp, I pulled out and lay over her, kissing her neck and face. My body thrust against hers.
She put her hands on my hips.
“You’re not fucking me without a condom,” Lolita said, admonishment at the edges of her tone.
“Of course I’m not fucking you without a condom,” I said. I lifted myself to look at her. “What do you take me for?”
“I know, I know, I just . . . ,” She laughed, then whispered. “I don’t suppose you have one?”
I furrowed my brow, “Baby, did you not just see me get out of a hot tub and walk here naked? I ain’t hiding nothing.” I leaned into kiss her again. “Anyway, don’t you have date?”
Lolita looked back to the path. “I do. I mean, it’s a snuggle date. I mean, I guess I can be late to that . . .”
“You’re already late,” I said. “It’s got to be way past three. Anyway, we don’t have to do everything tonight. We just met, after all.” I looked away. “I don’t want you to think I’m . . . easy.”
She roared, her body shuddering under mine.
I stood and offered her my hand. We walked hand in hand back to her clothes on the path. I brushed the grass from her body as she dressed.
“I don’t know why I bother dressing,” she said, buttoning her shirt. “I’m only walking a short way to my cabin.”
I shook out my towel and wrapped it around my shoulder. “Maybe because you’re cold. I just realized: it’s fucking freezing out here.”
“Aw, and you’re naked,” she smiled, rubbing her palms on my shoulder. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” I looked in her eyes. “I’ll just crawl under the blankets.”
“Okay. Well . . . um, nice to meet you, Jefferson.”
We laughed. I held out my hand. “Yes, likewise. Let’s do lunch.”
“Lunch,” she moaned, looking at cloudy sky. “Ugh, I have to teach a class in a few hours. I’ll be a wreck.”
“Good night. Lolita.”
“Good night, Jefferson.”
We kissed, our tongues already fast friends.
I waved as she walked up the path.
I turned back in the opposite direction, walking under the sky, nude and swinging my towel.
I was very worked up.