What the hell? I was no matinee idol either. Fast-forward to the summer of ’62. I was nineteen and returning to Camp Nanticoke for the first time as a counselor. I stood a solid five-foot ten, with a couple of bodybuilding trophies under my belt (just local contests, but I was proud of them). And, thanks to bi-monthly applications of hair relaxer, my Brillo pad hair had morphed into something I could now style without breaking combs. Some zits remained, but my nose didn’t look as big because my face was fuller. Becky was there too, now a counselor herself, looking great, traipsing around in her Nanticoke Staff white sports blouse and blue shorts. Word had it that she was unattached. I knew that she and Gill had broken up a few summers back. Subsequent boyfriends in subsequent summers followed, and I suspected it wouldn’t be long before she’d hook up with someone else. She was still my dream girl, perhaps even more so, desirable and unattainable. She said hi whenever we crossed. She has big beautiful green eyes a darker skin complexion that is smooth as glass. She has those lips that every woman wants and they look incredible wrapped around my cock. You can feel the sex vibe she gives off just standing next to her. She's perfect. We live in a small city that has limited options for entertainment when we feel the need to go out, especially when we want to go out and play. So an opportunity came up through work that would give us a reason to go to a bigger city nearby, about a 3 hour drive away. Though it was going to be a trip through the middle of the week and just for one night we still started planning a way to have some fun while we were there. When we got to our hotel the first thing we did was drop our bags on the the floor and started fucking in front of the mirror. My gf always wears skirts and dresses when we go anywhere so I can fuck her or play with her at any time. The hotel sex was just an appetizer leaving us wanting more but we thought we.
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