If you had asked him, Jim Morris would have admitted he was eager, eager to get this camp set up, eager to wolf down some food and then eager to get into the young student he had brought to the beach with him. Vixen was reasonably well aware of the last item on his list. She could smell lust and was seldom wrong.

They had talked of school and sports on the way down the Jersey Turnpike and had been surprisingly relaxed with each other despite the fact that he was a teacher and she was one of his students and that he was twenty-three and a college grad working on his doctorate while she was seventeen and had never really finished high school.

What they had going, unspoken on that cool morning, was sex, an aching desire for sex. He was a man and she was a woman, and they intended to make the most of that situation this weekend. That was understood as well as unspoken.

The trip had taken more than an hour and registering at the empty campgrounds had been delayed until someone came and unlocked the heavy chain. They were the only customers on this cloudy weekend. Jim had invited Vixen to the beach to do some sketching of the old houses and the grassy dunes and elderly breakwaters. He also intended to fuck her until her eyes crossed and thus lose his own cherry since he was soon to be married.

He had never had sexual relations with a girl, and he was more than ready, way past ready, and the luscious redhead beside him was the best looking piece of ass he had seen in a long time.

Vixen was looking forward to the sex as well, assuming the young man was experienced as well as eager. She had wanted her English teacher, but hoped that this lean man would make up for her failure to nail him again. She was tired of boys nearer her own age who tended to come quickly if repeatedly. She had, during her first year of college, enjoyed a multitude.

Jim put together and pegged down his small Alpine tent and hauled a big, old-fashioned sleeping bag out of the back of his VW and stuffed it under the nylon. Vixen started a fire in the small grill and was keeping the hotdogs from burning while she toasted some buns and watched a can of beans bubble.

"It's ready," she yelled to the man as he hauled the cooler up near the tent. He brought a couple of Millers and sat beside her.

"Sorry I forgot the mustard," he said as he accepted a slightly blackened hot dog and spooned some beans on top of it.

"S'all right," she said, taking a bite of her dog and accepting the beer, drinking off half of it. The sun had set and the wind was pretty brisk. "It's getting cold."

She was wearing her jeans jacket, but the breeze was blowing her hair around and chilling her ears. He moved closer and put his free arm about her shoulders. She smiled up at him.

"Yeah, really no time to be at Cape May I guess." He reached for another hotdog.

"I've never been here," she said, leaning back against his arm. "I'm looking forward to it." She rested her elbow and forearm on his leg with a can of beer in her hand. She almost giggled when she thought of what she was actually looking forward to and hoped she had not made another mistake. Her elbow pressed his swelling groin.

She thought of her recent would-be lover, the tall, handsome boy from Pennsylvania who thought he had seduced her, and then bitterly disappointed her by producing a very inadequate tool and coming almost at once, without even penetrating her pussy's depths, spewing out his semen all over the place, whimpering and sobbing as she pushed him out the door.

"Me too," he said, eager to get between the girl's long legs while there was still some light in the high clouds. "There're some really great old Victorian homes. It's like an oversized museum."

He wanted to see her face when he plunged into her, and he wanted to see his thick rod disappear up between her rounded thighs. He was proud of his cock and had long enjoyed it in his hands.

"I've never done any architectural drawing." She liked his smell and balanced her can on his knee.

"You'll do fine. You've got a good eye and a free hand, very relaxed."

"Mr. Morris," she said coyly, "did you only bring one sleeping bag?"

"It's a big one," he said with a grin that he hoped was encouraging.

She smiled briefly and took another bite of her hot dog. "I brought a blanket, so it's all right."

"Oh, I think we can share," he said. "You can trust me."

She laughed and put her hand to her mouth. "Sorry. I was thinking about the last time I heard a man say that."

Morris got second hot dog and some more beans. He finished his beer and fetched two more, keeping his arm to himself but sitting hip to hip with the girl, their backs to a pine tree. Aware of her warmth and musty smell, he was becoming more aroused, more impatient.

"A friend of my father, a man he had known for years." She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her jacket. "He came and stayed at our house for a weekend. I think he lived out in LA. I heard him tell my father that, that he could be trusted, just before he climbed into my bed, naked as a jaybird, and put his hand over my mouth and big cock in my little pussy. And he was supposed to be sleeping in the other bed in my room. They thought I was asleep I guess."

"Geeze," said Jim Morris.

"By the time my father figured out what the noises were, it was too late. He made the man leave, go to a motel or something. It was pretty loud."

"Damn," said Jim.

They were quiet for a while, finishing their food and beer. Vixen didn't tell the young man that the visitor was far from the first man who had fucked her that summer nor would he be the last. As she now recalled the incident, when the man left, her father mounted her and enjoyed himself, helping her sleep, as he put it.

"I'm going to turn in so we can get an early start," Jim said. "The bathrooms are closed but here's a port-a-potty up by the gate." There was still some purplish light high in the sky.

Vixen nodded and while the man went off to the toilet, relieved herself behind the tree and by the time he returned, she was bare and in his bedroll, waiting hopefully and stroking herself to readiness, praying he was a stud with some staying power. She had endured a couple of disappointing lovers recently.

Jim knelt by the tent entrance, excited and erect, got out of his clothes and crawled in beside her, pulling the long zipper up halfway as their bare skin touched and their bodies began to get acquainted. His cock poked well out before him and rubbed the girl's stomach and then was mashed between their eager bodies as their mouth found each other.

"Vixen," he said, after they kissed briefly and gently. "You know that teachers and students, well..."

She snuggled closer. "I know." His manhood certainly felt big enough to do the job. She grasped it firmly and stroked it gently.

"So this has to be a secret." The danger of what they were doing excited them both.

His hands explored and so did hers. They came together quickly and kissed seriously and then, almost without effort, he entered her as they lay nose to nose. She gasped and bit her lip. His deep thrust was abrupt.

He was big, surprisingly and almost painfully big, thick and hard and impatient as he rammed his rigid cock into her young slot and sank it fully up into her barely prepared passageway, his hands on her buttocks. She did not like the way his face looked, sort of angry and wild, showing his teeth.

Vixen sucked in air and made a very odd noise deep in her throat, a sort of moan as he spread her open and ground their bones together. She swallowed a screech when he hurt her, butting her cervix, and she tried to push him away as she tensed her vaginal muscles. They were both panting.

Jim Morris, who had never entered a girl before, was out of his mind with lust and moved quickly and senselessly into a flurry of nearly vicious, full-length couplings, rolling the girl to her back and fucking her as hard and fast as any man had ever done and then coming with a roar in less than two minutes, gushing out his jism in a series of throbbing thrusts before he collapsed beside her, sobbing with relief, his soggy prick still engorged.

Vixen, hurt and tempted to cuss him, held her peace and bit her lip, regulating her breathing and pushing him all the way off of her. She wiggled out of his sleeping bag, found her blanket and curled up, hurt and angry, as far away as she could get. She could feel his semen leaking out of her.

When he had subsided and gathered his wits, he figured out that Vixen was no longer beside him. He reached out a hand, found her and said, "Vixen, did I hurt you? What's wrong? I'm sorry."

"Um," she said, acid in her throat. "That was petty mean."