Her Dad’s Best Friend

It's pretty small, though, and we sheltered it from the wind. I don't waver when I pour some water on it. The fish is done anyway, and the sweet potatoes will be fine in the ashes.

I had gotten hard watching Camilla bend over, and my erection hadn't gone away. I'm lucky that her dad didn't come back, because he probably would've slaughtered me and left my body for the bears if he understood how I felt about his daughter. A daughter who was growing more beautiful and womanly by the day. If I didn't want to spontaneously combust, I'd need to take care of some things. There is a mountain stream just two minutes from camp. If Camilla needs me, I am within screaming distance.

When I'm right next to the stream, I strip. It isn't deep, but it is cold. Ice melt is never that nice. I try to pour ice water over my dick, but it refuses to go down. Looks like I have a date with my hand.

It's past midnight, and my buddy is sleeping off all the Jack that we drank. I'm wide awake, and the alcohol has wiped away my scruples. He's snoring away in our tent, so I unzip the opening and go out to Camilla's tent. I unzip it as quietly as I can. I can see just a little slow, steady movement in the scanty moonlight that tells me that she's breathing deeply, sleeping like an angel.

I lay down on top of her sleeping bag. I put a hand over her mouth and lean in. I whisper in her ear. "Camilla, wake up."

Her eyes are barely open. She's saying something muffled by my hand.

"Camilla, you have to be quiet." I thrust my erection at her. Even through the sleeping bag, she can feel it. She stills.

"Camilla, I'm going to let go. If you don't want this, tell me now. Otherwise, stay quiet."

I take my hand away. All I can hear is the hooting of an owl. Her breaths are coming faster and faster.

I have my answer. I pull apart her sleeping bag, yanking down her pajama pants and underwear. I pull her legs over my shoulders so I can pile drive her. If we had privacy, I'd take my time. Her father, my best friend, is sleeping only feet away. Tent walls aren't much of a barrier.

One hand goes between her legs. She's wet enough for me to take right now, but I rub her for a few minutes anyway. I can tell from her heavy breathing that she's trying very hard not to make any noise. Neither of us wants to get busted.

I stop rubbing her and guide my dick inside of her tight pussy. She's incredibly warm on a cool night like this. I feel like I'm sinking into a sauna.

I hear her panting very quietly. I thrust all the way, and I hear a muffled gasp. Then I can't hold myself back any longer and begin to swing my hips as quietly as I can, getting as deep as I can. Her muscles are contracting around me, fluttering, as I hold back my own groan of completion. She's filled with my come. I want her to keep it, but I know that there'd be hell to pay if she smelled like me tomorrow morning.

I fumble in the corner for those wet wipes that she brought with her, the ones that we've been using to wipe our hands before eating. I clean her between her thighs before wiping myself off. I throw the wipe into the garbage bag she keeps in her tent.

"Don't tell anyone." She's still half-naked under me and my dick wants her again, but we've taken enough risks for tonight.

I disengage her legs from my shoulders, then I lean down to kiss her, slow and soft. She kisses me back timidly at first, then she pushes her tongue inside of my mouth.

And she's not an innocent little girl anymore. Yeah, she's eighteen, but she's a woman.

When I open my eyes, I'm standing in a cold mountain stream that's carried away my come. I shake myself off and put on my clothes, even though I'm still a little wet. I walk back to camp.

It's so damned inconvenient to want my best friend's little girl. Maybe it's just the prolonged exposure, having to be in close quarters all the time. I wonder if any of the women in my little black book would mind being called Camilla while we fuck.

Dress Hunt

Camilla

NOW

I rinse off, then I find my ratty pajamas. They're really old but the most comfortable clothing that I own. They're pink, but sort of a grayish pink after all this time. I should've thrown them away years ago, but they make me feel safe.

I tuck myself into bed with my Kindle, arranging my pillows so I'm in a cozy nest. Then I hear the garage door open. My dad is home.

"Where are you, Sunshine?"

I get out of bed and go to the mezzanine. "Here, Dad."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No. I'm not very hungry."

"I thought that we'd celebrate your last day of working. It'll be good for us to spend time together before you have to go back to school. I made a reservation for seven at your favorite place, that Italian restaurant. I invited Lincoln."

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