Cindy-Part 4 (Image: Dancing Girl # 6)

The next day—Sunday—I was more confused than I’d ever been in my life.

I sat next to Cindy in church—she held my hand and snuggled against me all through the sermon and all the time she was pressed up against me I kept seeing Susan dropping that big shirt and sliding down her shorts while staring directly into my eyes and running her tongue across her lips.

I was deeply ashamed of what I had done to Cindy—I mean—how would I feel if she had sex with some guy in my car? But at the same time I couldn’t stop thinking about Susan’s beautiful naked body and the way she gasped and convulsed in orgasm. I actually thought about breaking it off with Cindy and going to Susan but after the service I watched her flirting and batting her eyelashes at two other guys.

I knew I’d been used but all I could do was stare at Susan across the vestibule and think, “Please use me again.”

I had seen Susan’s name on the camping trip sign-up sheet. Fantasies about sneaking away from Cindy and rendezvousing with Susan during next weekend’s trip kept popping into my head.

By Wednesday I was starting to calm down and think rationally. I decided to forget about Susan and focus on Cindy—re-thinking my relationship with her. I was a sexually experienced man now. Cindy was in love with me—just get her alone on a blanket in the woods and she’d be a push-over. My priorities were now quite open-ended.

The rest of the week went pretty well—Cindy and I were able to get in a little necking behind the bleachers on our lunch hour. I was hoping some of the kids would see us and realize I was now a much cooler guy—I actually had a girl—and a few kids did spot us. I was very pleased. We also talked on the phone Wednesday and Thursday nights after school. Friday afternoon Cindy, me and a bunch of other kids were able to get out of school a few hours early, piled our sleeping bags into several cars—one of them Cindy’s—and headed up into the mountains.

The trip up was a ball—everybody talking, laughing, playing the radio full blast—waving at people in other cars—I was starting to socialize better. At the camp we got our cabin assignments. Don Loman and I were in adjoining bunks and yeah—Cindy and Susan were cabin mates.

Friday night was wonderful. There were about a dozen kids from our church and several more dozen from other churches in Central New York—30 or 35 kids total.

There was a huge bonfire—big birch and oak logs wrapped in rolling, orange flames as glowing sparks rose straight up into the starry darkness overhead. A lot of kids were paired off—couples sitting on log benches snuggled together wrapped in blankets. Susan was sitting with Don but they weren’t snuggling at first—but as the evening progressed I saw her clutching his arm and Don had a concerned look on his face. Several times I saw Susan looking at me and Cindy—and she had that look again at least once.

Some local farmer came by and told tall tales, legends and spooky stories about early settlers in that part of the Adirondacks. We sang and drank hot cocoa—when the adult chaperones weren’t looking, a bottle of peppermint schnapps somebody had smuggled in, was passed around. It was a wonderful evening—we all went to bed that night feeling the weekend was off to a great start.

Don came into the cabin a little after me and crawled into his sleeping bag. I made a few comments about the campfire we just came from to get him talking—I could tell something was on his mind. Finally he says he was talking with Susan earlier and something’s bothering her but she won’t say what it is. I go to sleep feeling somewhat anxious.

At breakfast in the big, barn-like dining hall the next morning Cindy and I sit together. She’s stirring her oatmeal with a spoon in her right hand and squeezing my leg under the table with the other. She tells me the same thing—something is bothering Susan but she won’t say what it is.

I’m now having a real bad feeling about this weekend.

There were a couple of workshops and seminars that morning. At lunch Cindy tells me her sessions will end about two—mine will end about three and the rest of the afternoon is free time. She tells me how to get to her big willow by the water and says she’ll meet me there at 3:15. She’ll be going right after her last session to get a little alone time and think about our future. I tell her I’ll bring a blanket and watch her reaction—I can’t see anything that looks like concern.

On impulse I decide to take a picture of her in this special place she loves, so after my one o: clock session I get my camera and run down to the beach. It would make me late for my 2 o: clock but I was going to get a frame and give it to Cindy as a surprise gift. Down at the beach I hide behind some bushes, snap the picture then run back to my 2 o: clock.

At 3 o: clock the last session ends and at 3:10 Don Loman comes through the door of the cabin and punches me in the face.

End part four

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