Chapter 6

3rd Thursday

She was still agitated at breakfast. Arden was sitting at a table that was all boys and, with uncharacteristic boldness, that shocked her, she marched up and tapped him on the shoulder.

"I need to talk to you," she said tersely.

He got up and they went to a corner of the dining hall.

"If I told you to stop ... doing something ... you would ... wouldn't you?" She frowned as it came out haltingly, and not at all like what she'd had in mind.

He looked shocked. "Of course," he said.

Her agitated mind had convinced her he'd laugh. He might even strut or posture. If he'd said "Baby, your pussy is mine," she wouldn't have been surprised. His look of obvious concern disarmed her, and made her feel like she'd kicked a puppy.

"Okay!" she said weakly. Then again... "Okay!"

She was so embarrassed that she turned on her heel and walked away. She looked for Judy, and saw her standing by a table. She concentrated on how normal Judy looked, as the counselor talked to a boy sitting at the table. Judy smiled, and it made Gloria smile. Judy was so calm ... so poised ... so everything! She wanted to be just like Judy. She went to sit with her idol.

Being around Judy settled her. Even though she knew what Judy and Brad were doing ... had done last night ... it was OK. Judy was grown up. She could do that kind of thing. She wanted to be a mother, and this was the only way she could do that. When she found out Judy was going to be at ceramics, that's where Gloria went for morning free time. Group time wasn't a problem. Arden never teased her during group time, or stared at her, or any of that. He was just Arden, in group.

During ceramics Gloria almost told Judy about what was happening to her. She even took a breath to start blurting it all out, but another girl walked in the room, destroying their privacy. Then two more kids came in, and it was too late. Gloria sat, with a lump of clay, vaguely sulking, while a girl made an ash tray that would hold twenty cigarette butts, talking all the while about how she was doing an intervention for her mother, to get her to stop smoking. She scribed "Cancer" in the bottom of the ash tray. "See?" she said proudly, showing it to Gloria. "It holds a whole PACK of cigarettes! She'll quit for SURE when I give her this!" Gloria thought it was the stupidest thing she'd ever seen, but didn't say so.

Judy was telling a story about her prom, in High School, and Gloria listened to that. It was a funny story, and everybody laughed when it was over. Judy came over to Gloria. "What you got there?" she asked, looking at the clay in Gloria's hands. Gloria looked down. She'd formed a tube, about as long as Arden's penis when it was erect. Her fingers, without help from her eyes, had molded the head, though it looked more like Brad's than Arden's. Gloria looked up helplessly, to find Judy's wide eyes staring at the clay tube.

"Nothing," gasped Gloria. "I'm not making anything." She felt panic and squeezed the tube into a lump, like Amy had done with her much-better representation of a penis. "I was just squeezing it," she blurted. She threw the ball of clay on the table and stood up. "I have to pee," she said. She ran to the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against it. She washed her hands, and watched as the brown water stained the sides of the sink, eventually thinning and becoming clear, as her hands got clean.

When she went back into the room, Judy was leaning over another teen, showing him how to use a scraper to put detail on his project. Gloria sidled to the door, and slipped out, before Judy saw her.

That afternoon, she marched down the trail to the boat house. She was ready to lay down the law. She gotten so worked up that she'd have been able to do it too, if Arden had been there. But he wasn't.

She looked around everywhere, but didn't see him. The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and she looked out on the lake, hoping, against hope, that he'd just gone out alone, and would come back to the dock when he saw her. But he wasn't there either.

She thought back to breakfast. What had he thought? She'd just turned around and left him. Did he think she meant she didn't want to see him any more? That had to be it! She'd chased him away! He was the best thing that had ever happened to her and she'd wadded him up and thrown him away like a used piece of paper. She wanted to scream, and beat her head against the wall of the boat house. All she did was sit down on the dock and cry.

Two kids, and the counselor on duty came up to ask her what was wrong, but she waved them away, and they left her alone. She had settled into the hiccupping sobs, when he was suddenly there.

"Nivea! What's wrong?"

She looked up through shining eyes. She couldn't see very well, but it was definitely him.

"Y-y-you weren't here!" She hiccupped as soon as she said the last word.

"I got a package in the mail from my folks," he said, sitting down beside her. "They sent cookies and candy and stuff, and everybody wanted some. I saved you a Snickers." He held his hand out. There was a candy bar in it.

"I thought you didn't want to see me any more," moaned Gloria.

"Why wouldn't I want to see you?" he asked, genuine surprise in his voice.

Gloria wanted to crawl in a hole and die. She'd made a complete fool of herself. She wanted to get up and run, but she couldn't see through her tear-filled eyes, and she knew she'd trip and go sprawling. She did get up, though, and wiped at her eyes furiously. She glanced at Arden sideways. He was just standing there, looking at her.

"Are you OK?" he asked, hesitantly.

"No!" she said, her voice tight.

"You want to go canoeing?" he asked. He sounded hopeful.

"No!" she said, insistently.

"OK," he said, sounding disappointed.

"Yes!" she said suddenly.

"Yes what?" He sounded confused.

"I don't know!" she growled.

She took his hand and pulled him to the boathouse. Her Nivea bottle was still where she'd sat down and cried, and she went back to get it. She went back in and handed it to him and stood, silently, her back to him. All this she did, more or less, on auto pilot. Her body was standing still, but her brain was running ninety miles an hour. Once again, he hadn't done what she assumed he'd done ... what she thought he would do. While she was making a fool of herself, he was just being ... Arden.

She was distracted by his hands, smoothing along her arms. His touch on her stomach was tentative, not his usual firm touch, and he didn't touch between her breasts. He did her legs quickly and efficiently, and didn't push his hands too high. He wasn't acting like ... Arden. When he put her life jacket on her, he didn't touch her breasts, and she wanted to scream at him, but she knew this was all her fault. She'd told him to stop, and he'd stopped. That's what she'd have assumed someone would have meant, if they'd have asked her that question. She was so angry at him, and at herself, that she pushed him away and stalked out to the line of canoes tied up at the dock. She jumped in one and sat in the stern, sitting on the seat just to spite him. He stood on the dock, their kneeling pads in one hand, and his paddle in the other, and looked at her.

"Are you coming?" she asked, her voice harsh.

"I guess so," he said.

She steered them straight for their tree, and when they got there, she jumped in the water and climbed straight up the bank. She knew the blanket was still there, because she'd seen him carefully roll it up. The can of Coke had been rolled up inside it. He'd never opened it. She stood, looking at the rolled up blanket. He'd left it there on purpose, she realized, because he intended to bring her back here, and use it again. Something melted inside her, and she turned to find him standing, looking unsure, two feet from her. She felt tears in her eyes again. She was going crazy. All this ... Arden ... the way she felt ... it was tearing her apart. She felt her eyes get wet again and wiped them.

Suddenly he was right there, his hands on her waist. He didn't say anything and she melted against him. When his arms went around her she stifled a sob of relief and hugged him fiercely. Then he was kissing her, and the sun came out again, and his hands began to stroke her much more tenderly than in the boat house and the world was suddenly right again. Arden was being Arden. All she had to do was be Gloria, and somehow all this would work out.

While he unrolled the blanket, she started to take her top off, and then stopped. Gloria wouldn't do that. Instead, she waited until he turned to her, and then turned around, presenting her back to him.

The world sped up and she suddenly found herself naked, writhing in his arms on the blanket, kissing every part of his face she could reach. She was crazy for his touch, and couldn't wait for him to start licking her, so she could repay him. His kisses were driving her crazy and she rolled to throw a leg over him and rub her pussy against his thigh. She reached for him and squeezed and stroked until he pushed her hand away. They almost rolled onto the grass as each tried to get on top of the other, stroking and wiggling until, finally, she was pinned under his superior weight. He held her there, captive, so he could kiss her lips for longer than two seconds. She scratched his back with her nails, trying to punish him for kissing her, instead of sucking her nipples, or licking her pussy, but his kisses just got hotter and the world went faster.

She wasn't aware that anything had happened at all, until she felt the pain of tender tissues being stretched apart for the first time. Her hymen was gone - had been gone since she was eleven and started her periods - but his penis was much larger than his finger. When she realized what had happened, and that she hadn't had any warning at all that it WAS happening, it was already too late as, with a long sigh, his weight settled on her and her pussy was full of hard prick.

"OHHOWWWWW", she complained into his mouth, the stinging sensation of stretched pussy lips bringing tears to her eyes again. He did not relent. He was in her. Her virginity was history. She hadn't even had a chance to say "No!"

He held still, after his first full penetration, and his lips had stayed pressed to hers, until she turned her head. Now he moved, his whole body rocking back and forth, on top of her, his skin rubbing hers everywhere they touched. She felt his chest scrape across nipples that were suddenly shooting sparks throughout her body, and the sharp sting where his penis was violating her dulled to a mere ache. His movement increased, until he was moving so much that it pulled his penis part way out of her and then made it go back in. Her clit started talking to her, and the discomfort in her pussy faded some more. Now she was having a hard time breathing, because his chest was fully on hers. She pushed at his shoulders and, when he rose a little, she took a deep grateful breath.

She turned her head back, to see his eyes looking at her face. She looked back, accusation in her mind, that she hoped her eyes stabbed into his heart. His knees came down between hers, which were closed. She couldn't figure out how he'd gotten in her in the first place. Her legs had been closed the whole time, as he writhed on top of her. She winced as his knees pressured hers apart, and then forced her thighs wider, opening her up to him.

Then he started doing to her, what she had seen Brad doing to Judy on the blanket.

At first, she had thought to scream "NO!" at him and push him off of her, but in the few short seconds during which he started sliding his penis in and out of her, her body betrayed her. The pain vanished, as if it had never been, and the feel of his stiff column of flesh, stroking and massaging her pussy walls wiped out every coherent thought in her head. She knew, in that instant, that, when her orgasm came this time, it would surely kill her, because what he was doing already felt ten times better than anything else he had done to her.

He was tireless, and the rhythm of his movements was steady and, after the first minute, predictable. He stroked her five or six times, and then went in deep and rotated his loins in five or six circles. The stroking had devastating effects on her pussy, and the rotating had devastating effects on her clit. She had no way of knowing that he was much more experienced at this than she would have ever dreamed, and that he was purposely regulating his own pleasure, to ensure that she had at least two orgasms, and hopefully more, before he had to stop.

They were, it turned out, well matched. He was good at giving her orgasms, and she was very good at having them.

Perhaps, in her mind, she became Judy, splayed out on a blanket, while her lover gave her pleasure. It wasn't completely like that. She didn't beg for him to make her pregnant. But she gave up to him, as completely as she ever had, and let him make her feel fabulous. She saw more than stars. She saw constellations of stars ... entire galaxies of stars. She cried, and babbled nonsensical sounds, her arms around him, holding him to her so he couldn't stop. And always, there were his deep blue eyes, staring down at her every time she opened her own eyes and focused on him.

She had just gone limp, for the third time, and was at the point where she'd been before, that first time he loved her orally, when she just couldn't take any more. She was drawing breath to finally stop him, when he suddenly left her empty, gasping. She raised her head with tired muscles and saw his still hard prick, hanging above her thoroughly fucked pussy. It bobbed, and spat a line of white from her pubic hair clear to her chin. It bobbed again, and laid another line beside the first. The third spurt went into her pubic hair as he sagged a little, and he collapsed on top of her.

This feeling of complete and utter helplessness wasn't unpleasant. The weight of his body on hers was now welcome ... almost comforting, as her mind adjusted to the fact that, when he had the chance to use her pussy, he had refrained. Unlike Mike, he cared enough about her to minimize the risk. He could have stayed deep inside her, and fertilized her nubile womb, but he hadn't. If what she was feeling right now wasn't love, she couldn't imagine what love would feel like.

He slid off her slowly, sideways, leaning against her, and rested the side of his face on her shoulder. His hair was sweaty, and stuck to them both. His cheek moved, and she felt him lick her left nipple, and then relax again, just resting on her. Her hand came up of its own volition, and stroked his hair.

As they paddled back, the realization of it all crept up on her. She wasn't a virgin any more. She was now one of those girls who "did it". She ached between her legs, but it wasn't the kind of ache that you took medicine for. She knew that ache would fade. She was like Amy, now. Amy sucked Mike's cock, and she had sucked Arden's. Amy let Mike fuck her, and she had let Arden fuck her too. She had called Amy a slut. But she didn't feel like a slut. She wasn't about to let any old boy lay so much as a finger on her. Arden could touch her, but that was all.