Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Slow,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Any relationship takes work on both sides, but those with alternative lifestyles seem to have the most difficult time finding a mate. Nature and nurture have conspired at times to thwart our best efforts, and those who succeed are fortunate. As you will see, even someone who is open about their sexuality has problems.
The rain matched my mood, dark and bleak. No customers came in to break the monotony, and just before six I closed up and walked the two blocks to my apartment. I stripped out of my skirt and top, letting them fall to the floor. Ditto for the bra and panties. There was no one home but me and I didn't care. Kicking my sandals into the corner, I walked to the kitchen for a beer.
I opened my beer and sat in the chair by the window, letting the tears flow and looking out at the world below. People were hurrying to get in out of the drizzle, and there was the smell of something garlicky in the air. Mothers called their children home, and I heard the faint beep of a horn in the distance. I was depressed, sad and yes, angry. Margie had left that morning and told me she wouldn't be coming back.
It was evidence of yet another failure in the short time since I'd come out. If someone had told me two years earlier that relationships would be the toughest part of being a lesbian, I'd have laughed in their face. I had the basics: a female's body and an inclination to have sex with women. I loved everything about them - their smells, their short skirts and pretty feet, the legs to die for, the soft breasts to snuggle against, and the cute asses to hold and play with. I thought that they had liked the same things about me, but something was wrong.
I finished the beer and debated getting another, deciding on a shower instead. Gathering my clothes from the floor, I put them in the hamper and dressed for an evening out. I grabbed a simple skirt and chose not to wear a bra, since I was only going down the street. It was a Tuesday night and Leslie's would be nearly empty. Locking the apartment behind me, I tiptoed quietly down the stairs.
The rain had ceased, but the dark clouds overhead hid the moon, making the streetlights glow with an eerie light. Wrapping my windbreaker a little tighter, I jogged the last few steps to the door of Leslie's. It was as empty as I thought it would be. The only two customers were playing pool, and Roni was polishing glasses.
"Hi Ginny! What can I get ya?" she asked, the accent of the deep south hanging in the air.
"A tall draft and a roast beef if you have it," I replied, hanging up my jacket.
The two girls at the pool table glanced at me, decided I wasn't worth the effort, and resumed their pool game. I ate the sandwich and finished the beer, then started working on another while I waited for an opportunity to talk to Veronica.
The two finished their game and left, leaving Roni and me alone.
She sat near me behind the bar and asked, "You look sad, are you ok?"
"Margie left this morning. I'm depressed," I replied.
"Doesn't surprise me," she said. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"You wouldn't shop for steak at a fruit stand, would you?" she asked.
"Well, no," I replied, confused.
"Most of the girls who come in here are looking for quick sex or they're curious," she said. "You have to find one that's looking for the same things you are."
"Mmmm," I replied, beginning to understand.
"How do you know when someone is right for you?" I asked. "I'm having a hell of a time picking the right one."
"That's because you might be letting them pick you instead of the other way around," Roni smiled.
"But still, there must be some way you can tell," I mused.
"Most of us base our relationships on commitment and caring, but there are a few who only want sex," she said.
"How do you tell the difference?" I asked.
"Get to know them first. Mutual attraction is good, but what about her habits? Does she snore, leave her underwear on the floor, brush her teeth regularly? Things like that," she said.
"I wish I could find someone nice," I sighed.
"Well then, you have to be selective. Don't be in such a rush to give your heart away and get them into bed. Enjoy their company first, get to know them and like them as people and as women. Then you can get to know their secrets and dreams and share yours with them, you know?" she said.
"Good point!" I smiled.
"And, on top of all that, if your orgasms feel like your ovaries are on fire, that's the one for you!" she exclaimed.
"I wish," I said glumly.
I bought another round and Roni and I talked a little more. I knew her advice came from experience gained over the years.
My conversation with Roni left me feeling a little less edgy, and I went home to my empty bed and crashed. I slept well that night and met my Dad at the shop the next morning, intending to ask him for some time off.
Smiling and nodding at my request, he said, "I've been wondering when you were going to come to your senses. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be spending all her days indoors."
"I don't mind, really," I said.
"I know. I appreciate you helping out here, but why don't you take the whole summer instead of a couple of weeks? " he asked. "Take the camper, travel around, take pictures, explore the country a little. Be lazy for once!"
"Are you sure?" I asked, thinking I hadn't heard correctly.
"Positive. I'll make sure it's ready in a couple of days and you can take it from there. I'll watch the place while your gone," he said.
"I don't have enough money to last me four months," I said.
"I'll give you a couple of thousand in traveler's checks before you leave," he said, grinning.
"That's too much!" I protested.
"I can't take it with me, and you may as well get some use out of it," he said, once again serious.
That evening I went over and made supper for him, and had it ready on the table when he walked into the house. He sat down and said grace after washing his hands, and we enjoyed our meal without too much conversation.
Pop had been the only man in my life from day one, and I loved him with all my heart. Always supportive of me and my choices, he had given me options and let me choose rather than being authoritative. I learned early that some choices are better than others, and the consequences of a choice can sometimes be painful - witness the episode with Margie. I couldn't remember if he had ever raised his voice to me. He preferred to give his opinion in the measured tones of reason.
Later in the week I was ready, packed to the gills in the contraption my Dad called the camper. The front was a normal van with two seats, and the back was a 24 foot long box with a stove and everything else I would need to camp in comfort. Rudimentary toilet facilties existed in the same space as the shower and the couch folded out to make a double bed. The child's bunk above the driver was used mainly for storage, and it was there that I stashed my purse, ID, cash and checks. The coolers were full of ice and beer, the propane tank was full, the cabinets had groceries and I was looking at a map as the the engine idled in front of the store.
He came out and climbed in, handing me a new canvas bag, saying, "Here, for the trip."
"What's this?" I asked. "I already have my camera packed."
"There's a new camera in there, plus a flash unit, 20 rolls of film and lots of extra batteries for everything. The camera has a couple of extra lenses you might like. Try it out and let me know what you think," he said.
"Thank you," I said as I kissed his cheek.
"Remember; no hitchhikers, watch the gas gauge, and call me once a week collect to let me know you're ok," he said, an odd catch in his voice.
I thought I might cry if I dragged it out, so I gave him a quick hug and said, "I will."
"And if you need anything you call anytime, ok?" he asked as he got out and shut the door.
I nodded and smiled, dropping the lever into D and easing away from the curb. I don't have a photograph of him standing on the curb waving as I left, but the image of him in the rearview mirror doing that is indelibly burned into my memory.
I took side streets out of town and hit route 26 south to avoid the Interstate. Slow to accelerate and difficult to stop, the camper was unwieldy until I got used to the way it handled.
I spent the first night in a campground near Joliet. Not that far from home in miles, but a planet away in emotional distress. It took me over an hour to repack everything in it's proper place for travel after I showered, and I decided that in the future I would shower elsewhere.
For the next week, I kept the camera on the seat and drove the back roads slowly, stopping at every garage sale and bake sale in every small town I came across. Chatting with the gray-haired old ladies as they touted the virtues of their brownies or pies and urged me to buy more, I laughed with them as I patted my hips and said no. I took pictures of nature and some funny signs, along with various people who looked interesting.
I was aimed vaguely south. I wanted to see where the rivers joined at the bottom of the state, but I was in no hurry. Several days passed without a thought of Margie or anyone else, although each night I caressed myself to sleep with an orgasm or two. Daytimes were spent driving and negotiating the ever-present construction zones, sometimes pulling off at a rest area to check the map.
Springfield was nice, but a bit too big. Carbondale was full of college kids, noisy and rowdy as they drove past me at breakneck speed. As I drove into Cairo I splurged and spent the night at a motel, taking two showers and refilling the coolers with ice.
I noticed that I still had plenty of beer. My alcohol intake had dropped by two-thirds, and I felt better. I slept the night in a big bed where I could sprawl out, with the pillows tucked between my legs in a poor imitation of another body. I was still lonely, but it wasn't the destructive kind. I would survive.
In the morning I saw the confluence of the rivers, two muddy bodies of water forming one, and checked it off my 'to do' list. It wasn't nearly as impressive as I had been led to believe.
Swinging back north I crossed into Indiana, spent two days in Indianapolis at the Speedway museum, then took the Interstate across to Saint Louis and looked at the arch. I used two days wandering around the Ozarks, (VERY pretty!) and then headed east again.
On the first of June I was back in Illinois driving the back roads when I came to a T in the road. The sign said "Potter's Lake Campground" with an arrow to the left, and "Quigley, pop .450" to the right. I'd only spent minutes whenever I could spare them for tanning and being lazy, and this looked like the perfect opportunity to indulge myself. Turning left, I began my search for the campground. After a few hundred yards, I saw another sign with an arrow pointing straight ahead and the edge of the lake. About a mile around, it was ringed with trees that looked cool and inviting.
Driving up to the entrance I spotted the office, which had several cars parked behind it. There were about thirty or forty kids in the water nearby, being watched by a lifeguard and their parents, mostly women. I paid the fees and asked the man for a spot as far as possible from the entrance.
He yelled, "Jeremy!" and a kid about 14 came out and jumped on his bike, waving for me to follow him.
I did so slowly, easing the camper over the ruts in the road until we came to the last cleared area. Jeremy was standing there pointing toward the trees, and I turned the camper around to back it into my spot.
Jeremy was helpful, guiding me back until the rear end was about two feet from the closest tree, then yelled, "Shut it off!"
I did, then opened the door.
Jeremy asked, "Where's your jacks? I'll help you set it up."
I opened the compartment underneath and showed him, then helped as he expertly brought it up level. When he finished I thanked him, handed him a five-dollar bill, and shook his hand.
He blushed and stammered, "Not supposed to take it Pa says."
"You go ahead and take it. You did good," I replied.
Blushing again, he hopped on his bike and pedaled off in the direction of the office.
I unpacked, putting the coolers under the picnic table and plugging in the electrical cord. If my stay here was to be any length at all, I wanted comfort. An hour later I was set up and decided to take a swim.
I had packed three suits: a very daring bikini with minimal coverage in orange, a modest bikini in white, and my 'granny' suit, the old black one-piece tank I'd had since high school. I put on the white one and walked to the water, wading in to about chest level. It felt like a bathtub, warm and inviting. I dunked myself a few times and waded out, shaking my hair. I sat on my lounge chair near the picnic table and opened a beer, listening to the shouts and laughter in the distance. I thought the one thing that would make the experience complete was some company of the female variety. My inner self said 'give it time, give it time.'
Supper was hamburgers on my grill as I watched the sun set, peaceful and growing quiet. The cicadas started thrumming and I heard other sounds. Campers were doing dinner, and there was the occasional shout for a wayward child.
Gathering my things, I walked to the office to take a shower and get ready for bed. As I walked in to get the key, I noticed a lot of activity in the game room and store. Jeremy was behind a counter giving out quarters for the arcade, and his father was punching the keys on an ancient cash register.
The shower area had four stalls and 2 toilets with a large mirror behind a pair of rusty sinks. The stalls had curtains, but anyone sitting to pee would be exposed. I was alone, so I shed the bikini and began soaping up, paying special attention to my crotch. I came softly before the hot water ran out and dried off, wrapping myself in my big terry robe. The mosquitoes bothered me on the walk back, making me reconsider my earlier decision to park so far away. Two beers later, sleep came quickly with the light breeze coming in the screens.
There was a rhythm of sorts to the days. By ten in the morning the swimming area by the entrance would be full of laughing children and their Moms, mostly local folk from Quigley. The overnighters sometimes left early in the morning, usually waking me despite their best efforts to be quiet. Weekdays were the busiest with locals, and weekends the place was full to the brim. I chatted with a few, and the different accents from around the country made the conversations lively and interesting.
I took pictures, wandered through the woods behind the camper, and sunbathed every day. Weekdays I could get away with the skimpy suit if I lay out on the far side of the camper, away from view, but weekends I had to wear the more modest suit or risk glances of disapproval from other visitors. I called my Dad as promised each week, talking for about 20 or 30 minutes each time and telling him of my adventures.
Two weeks later I was as brown as I was going to get and bored out of my skull. I'd managed not to get any tan lines on the top half of me, but my butt was still as white as snow. I didn't like having a white bottom, but even partial nudity was frowned upon. I'd used over half of my film on the local flora and fauna and some interesting rock formations, but I was rapidly running out of ideas. I still had almost two months to go, and debated whether to move further north, or go east and find another spot. That night, things got a little more interesting and I put off my decision.
I usually showered around dusk, eight-thirty or so, then spent some time in the arcade, trying to beat the high scores posted on some of the games. I was in the shower when I heard the door open and shut. I shut off the water, grabbed my towel from the hook, and dried myself inside the enclosure. As I stepped out, a very beautiful woman was slipping her panties from her hips and looked at me, the "O" of her mouth displaying her surprise. I had wrapped one towel around my hips, using my second one to cover my breasts. Lithe and trim, her tan lines were distinct and sharp. Her dark bush concealed her labia, and was nicely trimmed to fit inside a suit. Her breasts were pretty cones with uptilted ends, the tiny pale brown nipples pointing partially skyward. I thought the sexiest thing about them was that one areole was slightly larger than the other.
"Hi," I said as I offered my hand. "I'm Ginny Bergstrom."
She shook my hand and said, "I'm Lauren. Lauren Morgan."
Unable to stop myself, I looked her up and down, making her blush.
"Excuse me," she said, and disappeared behind the shower curtain.
I smelled expensive perfume as I dried off, waiting for her to finish.
The water shut off after a couple of minutes and I heard her ask, "Hand me my towel, please?"
"Sure, here you go," I replied, putting the corner of it into her outstretched hand.
Soft rustling noises ensued, then she stepped out. The towel was wrapped around her breasts and hung to just below her pubes, neatly hiding her body. I had my robe on and smiled at her as she reached for hers, wrapping it around her and tying it tightly before the towel came out from underneath.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," I said.
"That's ok. Bud told me there wasn't anyone else in here. I didn't expect you, that's all," she replied.
As I opened the door to leave she asked, "Is there anywhere close by I could get some whiskey?"
"I don't think so. You're in a beer and wine county," I replied.
"Ok, thanks anyway," she replied.
I walked back slowly, replaying the tape of her body in my mind. She had tight curves, pale skin and long braided hair. She didn't know it, but she was going to play a major role in my fantasy that night before bed. A few minutes later I was sitting at my picnic table drinking the last of my beers for the day and I saw a pair of headlights coming towards me. Stopping at a spot a hundred feet away, I heard the rattle of Jeremy's bike chain as the car backed in and shut its lights off.
The vague shape of a woman opened the hatch and took out a box, handing it to Jeremy. When she bent back inside, I could see it was Lauren, throwing things around and looking for something.
I grabbed my flashlight, walked over and asked, "You need some help?"
"Yes. I seem to have lost my flashlight," she said.
I held my light as Jeremy unfolded a small tent and set it up, pegging the stakes firmly. He accepted her tip and rode off, leaving us in silence. She seemed nervous and jittery while she moved things around in the car, picking up items of clothing and folding them.
"I've got a bottle of brandy," I said, "if that will do instead of whiskey."
"Thanks. I really need a drink," she replied. "I'll be there as soon as I change clothes."
I walked back to my camper and got out the bottle, dusting it off and getting two glasses.
I heard her tap on the door and said, "Come in, it's open."
Her dark blue shorts were flattering to her legs and the matching top covered her completely, making her appear to be a different person. She was barefoot and slightly shaky as she sat and accepted the offered glass, drinking half in one gulp.
"Thank you. I'll pay you back tomorrow," she smiled.
"No need. I like beer myself," I said, holding up my bottle.
Pointing at her toes, I said, "I've got a swim suit that color."
"Really?" she asked. "Orange?"
"Yep, not much chance to use it around here though. It doesn't cover much," I replied grinning.
"Mmm," she said, taking another deep swallow.
I handed her the bottle and she refilled her glass, taking a sip before putting the bottle down.
I smelled the expensive perfume on her again and said, "I don't mean to be nosy, but you don't seem to be the camping type."
"It's that obvious, huh?" she laughed, a smile lighting her face for the first time.
"Mmm-hmm," I replied.
She said, "You're right, I'm not. But, I'm going through a divorce and my lawyer told me to hide for a few days."
"Good Lord, girl, what are you doing hiding here?" I asked. "You should be at the Hilton with room service!"
"Nope, I can't be in an obvious place. He's a doctor and he's got people out looking for me," she said.
"Where did you come from?" I asked.
"Springfield," she replied.
"Christ, that's over a hundred miles away!" I exclaimed. "His reach can't be that far!"
"My lawyer said not to take a chance, so here I am," she said, swallowing again.
"Big custody dispute, or what?" I asked, puzzled.
"Nope, no kids," she sighed. "That's the problem."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"We tried and tried to have kids with no luck. Then we went in for tests and found out my plumbing is in perfect working order, it's his that's fucked up!" she stated.
"Ooohh," I said.
"That's when the problem started. He blames me for it and he's still unwilling to believe the truth," she said.
"Have you been to counseling?" I asked.
"Yeah, and that only makes it worse. I left for a while the first time he hit me, and the lawyer says the only mistake I made was going back at all," she said.
"True," I said. "Nobody needs that shit in their life."
I could tell she was getting drunker by the minute, swaying in the chair and guzzling steadily. I emptied my bottle and got another, sitting down closer to her.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" she asked.
"Mmm-hmm," I replied.
"Are you a lesbian?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied, using the most matter of fact voice I could muster. "Does that bother you?"
"Are you with somebody?" she asked, looking around.
"No partner at the moment," I replied.
She was quiet for a few seconds and then said, "I saw you checking out my tits in the shower. I was curious."
"I'm sorry if I offended you," I said, "but they're pretty. That's what us girls do," I smiled.
"Well, at least I'm still attractive to somebody. My husband used to call me "The Titless Wonder", she said.
"They're just as big as anybody else's," I said. "Certainly as big as mine. Maybe he needs his glasses checked."
She giggled at that and said, "I appreciate it, I really do."
"My pleasure," I replied.
We talked for a while and I told her a little about myself and the fact I was on vacation. She was a good listener, but she seemed sad and upset about the divorce instead of happy she was out of harm's reach.
About midnight the conversation died, so we sat and drank without talking for the better part of an hour. She sat with her head hanging down and the tears dripped on the back of her hand. She was grieving for something and having a tough time. Perhaps it was the loss of security or the relationship, or maybe she had loved the guy at one point. Who knew? I'd been there and done that, so I let her cry. She sniffled and looked at me, the pain in her eyes showing.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asked, so softly I almost couldn't hear.
"If you want," I said.
"I've gotta pee first," she said, trying to stand up.
"Bathroom's that way," I said, pointing.
She stumbled a few times and groggily walked back to the toilet after emptying her glass. I put the bottle away and folded out the bed, getting a nightie for each of us while I waited.
She came out naked, her skin mottled with goosebumps. Her clothing was nowhere to be seen. She reached for me and hung her arms around my neck, trying to kiss me.
I held her back, handed her the nightgown, and said, "Here, put this on. It gets cold sometimes at night."
She couldn't find the bottom of it to pull it over her head, so I helped her with it and sat her down on the edge of the bed.
"No naked?" she mumbled.
"No naked," I said firmly, and guided her down to the pillows, rolling her over to face the window.
She curled her knees up a bit, folded her arm under her head with a deep sigh, and passed out.
I went back to the bathroom, expecting a mess. Her clothes were neatly folded on the toilet seat, the pale blue silk panties on top. I picked up the pile and sat down, relieving the pressure on my bladder as I held her clothes in my hands. I sniffed the panties, inhaling a almond scent along with her unique odor of perfume and soap. Placing them back exactly as I had found them, I flushed and went to the front. I got myself another beer, then sat down to watch her sleep for a while.
Her breathing was erratic with a lot of sighs and groans, including small body movements and a cry now and then, but she slowly calmed and went through her dream stage. I continued watching and sipping on my beer as she fell into a deeper sleep. I went pee again and crawled in behind her about three in the morning, snuggling up to her warm butt.
I woke up at ten, enjoying the sunlight warming my knees through the window. I got up and peed, made coffee without waking her and took the pot outside. I sat at the picnic table in my robe, debating my plans for the day.
About eleven she walked out of the camper, looking exactly like a 6-year-old fresh out of bed. The nightie I'd given her was wrinkled, but it did cover everything important, so I decided not to say anything about it.
"Mornin', sleepyhead. How do you feel?" I asked.
"Nothing a bottle of aspirin and a brain transplant won't cure," she giggled.
She got herself a cup and sat across from me, her hands steady as she drank.
"Hot today," she said.
"Will be," I replied.
We sat in silence for a few moments and she said, "About last night..."
I held up my hand and said, smiling and trying to put her at ease, "My lips are sealed. Your secret is safe with me."
"It's not that, it's... well, you could have and you didn't, and I don't know whether to be grateful or disappointed," she said, her smile taking the sting from the words.
"You wouldn't have known it if I had. You were pretty well out of it," I said.
"Maybe, but I'm not a prude - last night for a few minutes there I was hoping you'd kiss me," she said.
"Why? So you could say you got kissed by a lesbian?" I giggled.
"No," she said, suddenly serious. "So I could kiss you back. A small thank you for being there for me."
"I'd do the same for anyone," I said.
"But it was for me, not anyone," she replied, her big brown eyes staring at me over the rim of her cup.
We sat watching the clouds roll by for a while and drank the rest of the coffee. I got up to make another pot of coffee and some toast. I took off the robe and hung it when I went in, thinking she would stay outside. The coffee was perking and the toast had popped up when she came in and gave me a very frank look, inspecting me from head to toe, then walking around me to do the same to the other side.
"Did you know that you are the only genuine blonde person I've ever met?" she asked.
"Unh-uh," I replied, my mouth full of toast.
"S'true," she said as she walked to the bathroom.
I got my suit off the rack and put it on while I finished the toast, then yelled, "Coffee's ready!"
She appeared in her clothes, the blue silk panties once again nestled against her pubic hair. I couldn't see them, but I knew they were there. A twinge of desire fluttered inside and I shuddered with it, trying to shake it off.
Brushing her hair, she said, "I've got to go to town and buy a few things and call my lawyer. Is there anything you need?"
"A bag of ice and some beer, but I can get that here," I replied.
"Ok, see you later. Maybe we can go for a walk or something?" she asked.
"Sure, I'll be here," I said.
Without warning of any kind she stepped close to me and kissed my cheek, startling me.
"Bye!" she said, smiling and backing toward the door.
I watched through the window as she drove out, her hand waving at me.
While she was gone I walked up to the store and bought what I needed, then had Jeremy help me haul it all back. A six-pack went into the fridge and the rest into the cooler. It was already above 90 and I was getting thirsty. I folded up the bed and put both nightgowns under one of the pillows, then went outside and flopped in my lounger. I untied the neck string on my suit and adjusted the rest of it for maximum exposure without being too indecent, and lay back to tan.
I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew Lauren was shaking my shoulder and telling me, "Your nipples are getting pink. You'd better cover up."
I sat up and looked at her. The shy smile on her face made her look very beautiful.
"What time is it?" I asked.
" 'Bout three, I guess," she replied.
I tied everything back in place and got a beer, drank about half and stifled a burp.
"So what do you wanna do the rest of the day?" I asked.
"I feel adventurous. Let's take a walk in the woods," she said, smiling, "and don't forget to bring your camera."
"Ok," I replied, and put on my sandals.
We walked toward the north end of the lake, away from the campground. The path was random, going around rocks and trees with no discernible direction. We lost sight of the lake and the path widened enough to walk slowly side by side, watching for squirrels and birds. She took my hand in hers and gripped it, smiling up at me.
"Do you mind?" she asked in a small voice.
"No," I said, smiling back at her.
A few yards down the path she said, "I feel normal with you. With Tom I was always having to prove myself. He was always demanding I improve in some way; be a better cook, a better housekeeper, or a better lover. There was always something."
I nodded. I'd had a couple of lovers like that.
"You should just be yourself," I said.
"With you I can be. I like that," she giggled.
We came to a rock that was split by a tree, the path winding away to the right and out of sight.
She leaned against it and said, "I'd like you to take some pictures of me."
"Ok. Where?" I asked.
She spread her towel on the rock and reclined part way, her body raised on her elbows.
"How's this?" she asked.
"Good," I said as I pressed the shutter.
Four or five frames later she asked, "Do you think anybody can see us?"
"I don't know. Probably not," I replied.
With that, she took off her suit, threw it on the rock, and spread her legs.
Smiling at me and blushing pink, she said, "Go ahead, take them."
I shot a full roll in a few minutes, then reloaded and began again, getting her from all angles as she twisted and turned to change poses. I was getting wet! The sight of her sex so close and yet so far away was making me horny. She seemed to know what was a sexual pose and what was merely a nude, and she provided me with several of both, a look of sexual hunger on her face. The almond smell was back, and I got treated to my first sight of her slit close up. The inner lips hung out, brown and wrinkled at the edges, while the inside of her was a beautiful coral color. I licked my lips and kept shooting. I finished the second roll and reloaded again as she sat up, looking intently at me.
"Now you," she said, reaching for the camera.
"Why me? I'm the photographer!" I sputtered.
"Come on, get over there and take your suit off," she said, pulling the camera from my hands.
I hesitated, I was sure the dampness between my legs would show. Smiling, she urged me again, gently pushing my shoulder. I complied, blushing furiously red.
She used the entire roll, telling me what poses she wanted and only clicking the shutter when I did as she asked. I balked at a couple of her requests, telling her I was embarrassed. She persisted, and I reluctantly let her shoot. The last few were close-ups of my breasts and nipples plus two of my muffin. I was sure they would show the wetness leaking from the bottom. I had never been the subject before, and I felt excited and embarrassed all at once. Plus there was an intense tingly feeling rumbling in my lower stomach.
"That's it," she said, handing me the camera. "We're out of film."
"Thank God for that," I said, taking the camera and stuffing it into the bag.
I dressed as quickly as I could, feeling the bottom of the suit absorb some of the juices leaking from me. She put her suit on slowly, teasing me with sexy poses and watching my reactions.
"I'll have to send these home to get developed," I said. "I don't think anyone around here would understand."
"No matter. I'll have them," she said.
We started to walk back and she took my hand again, saying, "You don't understand, do you?"
"No, I guess not," I replied.
"I've never posed nude before for anyone, not even my husband, and it made me feel incredibly sexy," she said.
"Well, you are sexy," I told her.
"But it was you that made me feel that way," she said. "I feel worth something again."
I nodded and kept walking, her warm hand in mine, enjoying the afternoon breeze. I thought of different possibilities for my future, my thoughts all jumbled in my mind. Don't make a fool of yourself Ginny, I told my raging hormones.
With a few wrong turns we made it back to the campground about six, and she said, "I want to cook dinner tonight. You have a stove, right?"
"Yep," I grinned, "and you're welcome to it."
She shopped at the store in the campground, and I used the brief time she was gone to pee and give myself a quick orgasm. I sat on the pot stroking my clit, almost forcing it to build quickly. When it hit I was surprised at the strength of it, and took several deep breaths to avoid crying out. As I eased my fingers out, my pussy clenched them in waves, finally subsiding at the end to a pleasant full-body glow.
Dinner was spaghetti and garlic toast with wine. We sat across from each other and giggled like schoolgirls. There was no doubt I was growing to like her, her company, her musical laugh and her personality. I didn't know if I wanted to take a chance on being hurt again, especially so soon after Margie, but I decided to let it go and see what happened. For all I knew she could be gone by morning, back to her husband or someone else.
She spent the night in her tent after joining me for a shower. It was the bright spot of the evening. She wasn't body-shy around me, letting me look at her to my heart's content. I got a short kiss on the cheek when she left, and she told me she'd see me in the morning. That night there were two orgasms for me, one right after the other.
Her car was gone when I woke up, so I called my Dad and explained that I would be sending him some film to develop and return, and please not to ask questions.
He agreed with a smile I could hear over the phone, and hung up saying, "Good for you, sweetie!"
Lauren came back about noon and stopped at her tent to change into shorts and a top, walking over to my site with a big grin.
Taking a beer from the cooler, she popped the top and took a big swallow.
"The lawyer went to court this morning. I've got a restraining order on the jerk!"
"Great," I said glumly. "I guess that means you can go home now."
"Not a chance. I'm staying here until the next hearing at least, and that's another month away," she said.
"Good, that'll give us a chance to get the pictures back. Can you take me into town to mail them?" I asked.
"You bet!" she said.
I dressed and she drove into Quigley, her long legs flexing as she worked the pedals. I boxed and mailed the three rolls of film, sending them overnight express with a note inside. Then we ate lunch at the local diner. The burgers were delicious and the cokes were ice cold, making me feel the heat when we walked outside. The drugstore had some hats I liked, so I bought one and put it on, mugging for her benefit and getting a big grin in return.
That evening we watched the sunset at the picnic table, then went to take a shower. On the way back she gripped my hand again, lacing her fingers in mine. We went inside the camper and sat on the couch facing each other. We sat with our knees touching, dressed only in our underwear. The lacy edges on her pink ones put my plain cotton briefs to shame, but I decided it was time to get to know her.
I pulled the cooler closer and said, "Talk to me; tell me about Lauren Morgan."
"Where should I start?" she laughed.
"At the beginning would be a good place," I giggled.
"Well, 29 years ago David and Marie Sheldon had this little girl, and they named her Lauren," she began. "Daddy was a doctor and Mom was a nurse, so I grew up in a medical family. When I decided to become a nurse, that made everybody happy, but it wasn't what I really wanted," she said.
"What did you want?" I asked.
"To be a dancer. Not a ballerina, just a dancer. Sometimes I can feel the music like it's in my veins," she sighed.
"What made you marry Tom Morgan?" I asked.
"It was expected of me, I guess. I wasn't getting any younger and my parents were pushing at me to get settled and start a family. They were looking forward to having the patter of little feet around, you know?" she asked.
I nodded and she continued, "Then when we found out there wouldn't be any, the trouble started. Tom started making demands I couldn't possibly fulfill, and I got resentful. One night during an argument he hit me and I left, only to come back after three days. He was very apologetic and said it wouldn't happen again, and I believed him."
"The usual," I commented.
"Yeah. And then it got worse, so I left before he could hit me again, and here I am!" she said brightly.
"What about friends? Could you have stayed with them?" I asked.
"No, I never really had a close girlfriend. I was a nerdy kid who studied a lot. I never had tits until I was 17. Now, everybody I knew back then is married and living in the country it seems like, and all of them are in the same narrow social circle," she said.
"How long were you with Tom?" I asked, draining my bottle and getting another.
"Six years total, five and a half married to him," she replied.
"What are you going to do now?" I asked.
"I don't know. The lawyer says I'm entitled to half of his money, and I don't want the house. It was only four walls, it was never a home," she said sadly.
I nodded and got up to pee, leaving her with her thoughts.
I came back and sat down again, lighting a candle and turning off the light. The dancing flame highlighted her eyes, and she smiled at me.
Lowering her voice to almost a whisper, she said, "You know, I've never had a girlfriend I could confide in or ask questions of, like a best friend."
"What about your Mom?" I asked.
"Oh, Mom was a MOM! You'd never catch her talking to me about private stuff like sex or boys. When I was 14 she handed me a book and told me to read it. It was all medical crap about various diseases and things, and it scared the hell out of me!" she exclaimed.
"Were you a virgin when you married Tom?" I inquired.
"Yes, and so was he, I think. It took us 2 days of our honeymoon for him to ever get it in me without shooting gooey shit all over my stomach," she giggled.
"Did he hurt you?" I asked.
"No, it isn't big enough to hurt," she said, holding her fingers about four inches apart and giggling.
"I even took him in my ass a couple of times, and it wasn't that uncomfortable," she said, blushing and lowering her head.
"Lots of people like their butts played with. No harm in it if you're careful," I said.
"I've never admitted that to anyone before - about my ass I mean," she said.
"I don't believe it's something that would come up over morning coffee at the neighbor's house," I laughed, taking a pull from my bottle.
"Probably not. Or maybe so, who knows?" she giggled, patting my knee.
A couple of minutes of comfortable silence passed, then she asked, "What about you? Who is Ginny?"
"Ginny is a 25 year-old who wears her heart on her sleeve and is continually getting bashed for it," I said. "Not to mention that the neighbors hide their kids from lesbians."
"When did you know?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice.
"I was about 13, I guess, when I realized that boys weren't for me," I said.
"What did your Mom do?" she asked.
"Mom died when I was two, trying to give birth to my little brother. He was breech and the cord was wrapped around his neck. Neither of them made it," I sighed.
"Fuck! That's awful!" she cried, leaning forward and pressing her hand to my cheek.
"It's ok now. What few memories I have are of a nice lady. It's better this way," I said.
"So your Dad raised you?" she asked.
"Yup, never remarried. Always gave me choices and let me choose, and never said a word when I'd change my mind about something. He told me it was good to be flexible and open-minded," I said.
"Sounds like a nice guy," she said.
"He is. I love him to death. He's always been there for me," I said.