Chapter 12

One of the things I liked about the town was the open acknowledgement and acceptance that you could have had sex. If you smelled of sex, or had come on your face and in your hair, well, that was fairly normal. I once sat at an outdoor cafe, firlting with a guy, and watched the come sliding down the leg of a woman standing only a few feet away.

Mom had told me of a place in Nevada where it was nothing but a non-stop orgy. Everyone used condoms, partly because these were people who didn't closely watch their own health. You could get up at any hour of the day or night and find a group of couples getting it on. You probably could in our town, but people did other things as well. Used condoms were a real concern in that Nevada place, not so here.

"I worked there for a summer," the guy I was flirting with said. He shook his head. It seemed as if we took a truckload of condoms every week, and shipped a truckload of spent ones out."

"Did you count them or something?" I asked. His name was Dick, he was 23, tall and lean with short blonde hair,, and I found him utterly captivating.

"Only the ones we received. We got 5,000 a week, and sometimes we had to cut into our reserves."

"How many people were there?"

"Oh, 250 on a typical summer day, but on weekends we'd be up to 400 or more. Everyone was horny, and everyone got off."

"Sounds like it. I wonder what they did with 5,000 used condoms a week?"

He shook his head. "I don't even want to know. It almost turned me off to sex completely."

"But now you're here." I kneew he worked here, but today was his day off.

He nodded. "This is more casual, more laid back. There isn't that frantic coupling I saw in Nevada."

I finished my punch. "Let's see if you really did get turned off," I said.

"I was thinking the same thing." He finished his drink. "I thought we could have a Timex moment."

"Timex"

"You'll take a licking and keep on ticking."

So help me he touched the tip of his nose with his tongue. I practically melted on the spot.

Dick was every bit as good as he'd promised. We got a blanket and went down the street to a park. Parks in the town had a lot of shrubbery so you could have some privacy. We found a place, spread out the blanket, and he gave me a masterful demonstration of his tongue's prowess. After that he climbed right aboard.

"You know what you need to do?" I asked after he'd slid his delightfully hard cock into my molten interior.

"What's that?" He'd started moving, and now he paused.

"Come."

He grinned. "I'm working on it." He started moving again.

"Only..."

"Only?"

"I think I'm going to come again."

He redoubled the force of his thrusts, making my whole body shake. "Don't let me stop you."

There are some guys you can feel come. I did with him. I was in those last few seconds before my climax when I was hyper—aware of everything around me. I felt him plunge deep, stiffen, and then shake. I felt a feather-light touch deep inside me. My mind flashed there instantly, and as he jerked I felt it again. Coming! I thought, and that was it. That touch pushed me over the top.

A simultaneous climax is a special moment, two souls reaching the ultimate pleasure together.

We realized what had happened as we came down the other side, holding on to each other, staring into each others eyes, our hearts racing in unison.

"Wow," he said softly. "That doesn't happen very often."

I kissed him, a deep passionate kiss that made me feel as if we were joined in some way I couldn't explain.

The one trouble with sex is that the intimacy of the moment ends. Your hear rate slows, your breathing comes under control, and those intimate body parts that just joined you slide apart.

We did a lot of kissing as we pulled on a minimal amount of clothes. For some reason I'd worn a skirt today. I put my bra and panties in my bag, pulled on my tank top, and hand in hand we left the park. I did have one laugh: the blanket had a big wet spot, clear evidence that we'd been having fun.

I could feel the proof of his passion on my legs. In the past I would have consciously rubbed my legs together. Today I didn't. My skirt was short enough that it didn't take very long before anyone who'd bothered to look at my legs knew what we'd been doing.

We met Liz and some guy, and there was come on her face. We hugged briefly, and I don't think it was a surprise to either of us that neither of us was wearing a bra. Hers stuck to her boobs in a couple of places; come.

"You were always a little neater than me about such things," she said, which probably mystified the guys, but we knew what we meant. I sort of liked taking it on my boobs and face now that I was involved in regular sex, but I always preferred it inside me. Liz, on the other hand, thought it was part of the excitement. To each their own. We did have our differences, after all.

One of the things about twin girls is that guys get curious about how identical they are. We went back to our place and Dick and Greg, Liz's friend, traded off. The guys learned whatever it was they thought they needed to learn, and Liz and I certainly had fun. Greg wasn't quite as good as Dick, at least in my opinion, but I certainly wouldn't mind seeing him again.

That was the start of our social lives there in the town. It many ways it was just like back in Georgia, with a slight difference. You always said good-bye to your date with sex. In Georgia this might be a blowjob or, if you really had fun, a suck-off. Here you finally kissed him good-bye in the morning. I rather liked it. What better way to get to know someone?

Liz and I did a lot of dating.

The town wasn't just populated by horny young men. There were horny older men, housewives, and girls our age. It didn't take long to start making friends with the other girls. There was the usual competition, but there wasn't one of the tensions that I saw in high school. Back in our town there was always the question (and scandalized gossip) that this girl or that one had actually "gone all of the way". Those girls were universally castigated as tramps, sluts and the like. Girls know they can out-compete any other girl (whether they can or not), but feel there's something unfair if a girl actually does it with a boy. She might be just as sexually active as a cat in heat, but you don't let that on. It's a lievel of competition that strikes most girls as unfair. It's like there's a line beyond wich they won't go, or other girls shouldn't go, or something. Some of it is from conditioning from their female relations, but some of it is really how far a girl is willing to go to land a guy.

We didn't seem to have at least one level of that. We weren't living here full time. This was vacation. It would all end and you'd go back home, and this would be just a memory. Everything was written in beach sand, as one girl put it.

The other thing was that every girl was very active sexually, and we all knew it. Girls will talk quite frankly about sex, and boys, and there in town we talked about both together. We shared what we'd done with the boys, who did what, who liked what, and even how to do various things. I'm sure some guys would have been surprised or something to see one girl using a banana to give a graphic demonstration of what she'd just been doing with her boyfriend. The only part that was different was that she ate the banana after "sucking it off". And we all joined in the fun, making ribald comments about her technique.

Now none of the girls were into other girls, even slightly. The only woman I was with the entire time we were there was Kate Shortland. That's okay, there were plenty of guys.

We didn't limit ourselves to just our own age group. Liz and I had our share of married men. It was like there was an 'open season" on men. The only one (other than the Shortlands) that Liz and I didn't try to bed was Dad.