Topic: Adventures at Camp Crazyshit Pt. 1 My name is Alice. Some call me Allie; you can call me whatever the hell you want and it probably won’t matter. Anyway, when I was sixteen I had some unpleasant, interesting, and scandalous times as a camp counselor at a certain overnight camp. We’ll call it Camp Crazyshit. As you might have guessed, Camp Crazyshit was an adventure and a half, and I am lucky to have come away from it with my life, some great stories, and a killer tan. What I did not come back with, however, is really the focus of this whole thing: my virginity.
To summarize:
Gained – Life experience, hotness
Lost – Intact hymen
The series of fiascos that would eventually lead me to violate every bit of advice my father ever gave me really began with Dana, the first person I met after the bus dropped me off and, coincidentally, the hottest guy ever. He had messy blonde hair and that clichéd hemp necklace-wearing, bean bag-kicking, Frisbee golf enthusiast sort of look, but you know what? He owned it. And I never thought I would fall for that kind of guy, but when he gazed into my trembling heart with those steely blues and said, “Hey” I realized I’d been wrong.
Well, he wasn’t exactly eloquent, but I’ll give you one guess if I cared. Right. Anyway, after orientation we met up with the dozen or so screaming bunches of joy we’d be leading around for the next few weeks and introduced ourselves. I got thirteen-year-olds: 8 girls and 5 boys, which adds up to everybody’s favorite lucky number. And to start things off right, the first thing out of their mouths after “Hi, Miss Alice,” was a contribution from Tyler, a short and porky kid who reminded me of the Man Show Boy.
“You got big boobs!” he said with a flushed grin, and everyone burst out laughing.
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“Hey, you too!” I shot back before remembering he was only 13. But it didn’t matter. The boys all started chanting “Big Boobs! Big Boobs!” at me, in the middle of our big camp assembly, until I was blushing so bad I thought I was starting menopause 30 years early. But then it got a lot worse when I saw Dana walking up with his troop of well-behaved tweenies trailing behind.
“Hey,” he said, putting a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. The kids stopped and turned to him. “Where I come from, that’s not a bad thing. ”
He looked up at me, tipped his old sun-bleached baseball cap and walked off toward the cabins.
I almost came. Now, for the record, I do have pretty big boobs. I wear 36D bras, mostly ones with cute cartoon animals on them, and I’m proud of this. I’m not overweight, either. Just lucky. Some great aunt or something must’ve had the gene though cuz my mom looks like a surfboard with hair.
So I got through our big meeting with nothing worse than a new nickname (Double Dee) and some natural blush, but the first night was going to be way more interesting.
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Back at the cabins, we split up into boys and girls thank God, and me and my 8 joined about 70 others in a giant warehouse of a log cabin filled with bunk beds no more than an arm’s length from each other.
Girls from younger than 18 to 18 ran wild through the rows laughing and screaming and giggling and crying and braiding hair and taking cell phone pictures and….
Yeah. It was loud. After dinner, songs, and group games, it was lights out, and I settled into my creaky cot, my eight girls within sleep-kicking distance. But before I even lay down and started sleep-kicking, three of them came crawling over to my bed in t-shirts and panties, hopeful smiles on their little freckled faces.
“Miss Alice? I think your boobs are nice,” said Sarah.
“Yeah, me too,” Emily agreed.
“Umm thanks,” I replied. I smiled politely, but they didn’t go away. The exits and night lights around the room made it bright enough to see them pretty well, and I started getting nervous as I realized they were going to ask me something weird.
“Miss Alice?”
“Mm. ”
“Well, we were wondering…”
“Mm. ”
“What’s a penis?”
Silence.
“What’s… a penis.
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. ?” I repeated.
“Is it balls?” Emily guessed.
“Um, well, that’s part of it,” I babbled, having no idea what to tell them. “Maybe your parents should be telling you this??”
This was met with “MY mom doesn’t even know prolly!” and “No, pleeese??” And as I saw it, I had two real choices:
1) Tell them to shut up and go to bed, which would make them think I was a cold, heartless bitch, or
2) Just get down to it so we could go to bed
You know me a little by now. Do you even have to ask?
“Well,” I began, “a penis is what boys have that girls don’t. It’s between their legs, it dangles, and it looks kinda like a banana on top of a weird peanut. And they stick it in girls and make babies. ”
“Ewww!” they all whispered under their breath. “Where do they stick it?”
I spread my legs and pointed. My Hello Kitty undies made them giggle.
“Got it? So your goal in life is to make sure no boy sticks his penis in here until you’re married. Now go to bed. ”
The next morning we all got up and the girls’ director ushered us into the bathroom. Yes, there was only one.
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And yes, there were almost 80 girls. There were a dozen or so stalls and then six shower dealies. I say dealies because they were just poles with four shower heads each pointing in different directions, all in a circle in one big tile-covered room. Oh boy, I thought. Time to get personal.
Some girls started undressing and getting into the water, but mine were all bunched around me timidly.
“Alright girls, come on,” I said, but they shook their heads at me.
“I don’t wanna. You go first. ”
So that’s how it was gonna be. Ok. Fine.
I pulled off my sleeping shirt and felt the leering gaze of dozens of pairs of eyes on my chest. Yes: I have big boobs! Woohoo! Everybody stare! They bounced and jiggled and hung down as I bent over to pull off my panties, and I stepped into the warmish water.
“Come on, girls.
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”
They stopped staring in wonder long enough to undress as well, and came and showered with me at last. Their bodies were mostly the same: little buds for breasts with soft pink nipples, cute little butts, smooth bellies, and light little tufts of hair between their thighs. Emily was an exception. She had real boobs already, boobs that took half a second to catch up to her when she turned.
“Hey there, big girl!” I said with a smile and playfully grabbed her chest.
She laughed and all the other girls took turns groping her too. Then they turned to me.
“Hey Miss Alice can we do it to you??”
Why the hell not? It’s a free love kinda thing here, right? So in a minute I had sixteen little hands feeling their way around my jumblies like blind kids on a first date. Now, I should also note that I have pretty big nipples. Not long, just big areolas, to get technical about it. In fact, one time when I was at a sleepover in 8th grade, me and my girls measured them. They’re bigger than oreos.
And so my oreo nipples got hard as they grabbed and soaped and bounced, and the girls loved it.
“What’s happening? Your boobs are pointy!”
So I grabbed Emily and pulled her back against me, tweaking her nipples as she squirmed and giggled until they were hard too.
“It’s not just me!” I said, showing them.
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“Geez, don’t make me feel weird. ”
“Miss Alice?” Cayla said softly, one of the average-looking girls. “Why don’t you have any hair down here?”
She reached out and slid her hand nonchalantly up my inner thigh and back toward her, a little finger coming up just between my lips. The touch sent a shiver down my spine and I took a little step forward, catching my breath.
“Whoa, hey. . ! Careful where you put that thing huh?” I said, trying to play it off. “Um, well, I shave it. ”
“Why?”
“I dunno. I just like to. ”
“Look! Katie shaves it too!”
“No I don’t!”
Katie was the other big exception to the standard. Flat as the tile she was standing on, she was also hairless except for a head of strawberry curls.
“Nah she just hasn’t grown any yet,” I explained. “But when she does, it’ll be red!”
“Whoooaa…” the girls all cooed.
I was feeling pretty good about my sexuality at this point.
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I knew everything: I was like a sex goddess to these kids and, whether or not I was supposed to be telling them the facts of life, I was enjoying it. So on that high morale I marched out of the shower with a towel around my waist, letting my D girls bounce freely on the way back to the bed where I kept my clothes. And that’s when I saw him.
Just coming up the stairs from what I later learned to be the boys’ floor below us, was Dana. Apparently a couple hornies had snuck up to try to peek at the fairer sex and he had come to wrangle them. And so there I was, topless and horrified in front of my crush and two snot-nosed weasels who had just gotten the image they would probably masturbate to for the next 18 years, maybe life.
I screamed. Dana grabbed the kids and headed quickly for the staircase. I didn’t look to see the expression on his face, but I bet now it would have been priceless. He confessed to me later that the only boobs he’d seen before mine were his sister’s, and she was an A. And that’s how the summer at Camp Crazyshit started. Self-esteem balloon inflated and popped, cherry (for now) intact.
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