The first girl I got to know at college was four feet, eight inches of adorable fun, and within six hours of meeting her, I was balls deep inside of her. Ah, memories...

“Hey, we’re hiking up to that lake you did yesterday—you wanna’ come?” the RA said, ducking his head into my tent. I was still in my oversized REI sleeping bag, reclining, with my knees up, creating a kind of second tent.

“Naw, man, I’m good. Pretty tired from yesterday.” I yawned performatively, wiping sleep from my eyes. “I’m gonna’ try and catch some more shut eye.”

“Sure. Oh, hey, have you seen Diana? Leslie and Ellen are looking for her.”

“Not since we all turned in last night. Maybe she’s showering back at the station?”

“Yeah, maybe. If you see her, let her know, I guess. Take it easy.” The RA ducked out of my tent and I waited till I heard him walk off before glancing down into my sleeping back where Diana lay, face buried between my legs and fully impaled on my cock, drool dripping out of her sloppy lips.

“Did you tell anyone where you were going last night?”

Slurping with obvious satisfaction, she slid my cock out of her mouth, and let it rest against her cheek, snuggling up to it like an old friend, and not a new friend, one she’d several times in the last day or so.

“I just said I was going out and not to wait up. They don’t have to be so nosy,” she said, and kissing the head of my cock, slid it back into her mouth.

Now, the proverbial record scratch.

As I grow older, I find myself reminiscing more and more about my youth, and especially college. Four years seemed so long then, and now, four years drifts by unnoticed—I wake up and it’s no longer 2022, but 2026. Tomorrow, it will be 2030. Next week, I’ll be an old man, and next month I’ll be gone.

But when I was young, as happens for so many people, I think, everything seemed to move slowly, seemed filled with significance. They say that poets peek when they’re young, when your imagination remains dynamic and perceives the hidden meanings behind things, while novelists peek when older, skilled fingers able to weave tapestries that trick our souls.

Enough of that, though. That young man, dick hard and pressing against the roof of another teenager’s mouth? That’s me, in the waning days of August, right before my first year of college, on a camping trip sponsored by my university as a way to let freshmen get to know each other. And that little succubus is Diana, in my sleeping bag, another freshman, eighteen like me, inhaling my soul through my cock like a soda through a straw.

We met on the bus out to the woods. We’d arrived on campus a week or two early, and had the opportunity to move in and get ourselves sorted out before the chaos of the full freshmen move in. My first experience of Diana was of a big hiking bag that seemed to have spouted a stubby pair of legs and was walking by itself.

“Hey,” the bag said as it waddled down the aisle towards me. “Little help here?”

I seized the bag and lifted it up into one of the bus’s overhead compartments, and in the process, revealed Diana: a remarkably tiny girl with a mop of dark curls and a big, mischievous grin blanketing her face. She wore extra short jean shorts that barely performed the dignity of covering her butt, plus a tank-top that had slid up over her slight belly to reveal a dangly navel piercing, the kind every girl had in the mid-2000s.

“Damn,” she said, looking up at me, at the stretch of my arms into the dark depths of the overhead compartment. “You’re tall.” On second thought, she added: “I mean, everyone’s tall compared to me.”

As she revealed with her “fun” fact when our bus circled up for introductions, Diana was 4’9 and, she claimed, legally a midget. I know that’s kind of a pejorative term now, but she used the term proudly. It was 2007 and that sort of humor went pretty much unquestioned. Looking at Wikipedia, I see now that Diana just barely qualifies as a dwarf. The point is, she was very short—and adorable to boot. She was always smiling, had a smattering a freckles, and—here’s what you came for—a pretty nice rack and butt for being so small. If they were any bigger, they would have been comically lewd on her tiny body, but as it was, she basically had the proportions of a busty adult woman, just shrunk down ten or twenty percent.

Conversely, she had a big personality. She was loud and friendly, but also kind—she seemed to immediately identify the shyest students in the group, and made an effort to get them involved in games and activities all weekend. I suspect that’s why she latched onto me all weekend.

I was definitely apprehensive about starting college. I’d left all my friends at home, broken up with my girlfriend, and while I was excited, there was definitely a sense of starting over—no one from my small high school was going to this college, so I felt like I was really starting from scratch. In high school, I’d had a handful of close friends I’d been with since before grade school, and they’d all ended up outgoing and gregarious, while I’d ended up shyer, moodier—probably should have been medicated, to be honest, but my parents didn’t trust anti-anxiety medication, so there we were.

Diana, however, was probably the best anti-anxiety pill I could have swallowed. She was immediately casual, easy to talk to, a bit of a tomboy. Her family had emigrated from the former Soviet Union and she had all sorts of fun stories about growing up in a vibrant multicultural Russian speaking immigrant community. She laughed at all my jokes, as though I were just coming off my HBO stand up special, and any time on the bus ride that I cracked one she particularly liked, she would turn around, actually standing on the bus seat because she was so short and that was the only way she could peer over the backs of the seats, and summon the attention of anyone within earshot to listen to the retelling of my joke, which she laughed at just as hard as the first time.

So, yes, Diana was pretty great—cute, a little sexy, and a wonderful, kind person. I would have been super grateful to have her be the first friend I made at college even if I hadn’t ended up fucking her senseless that week in the woods.

The group’s camping equipment was cobbled together from whatever people brought, and so there was a bit of an odd assortment, which translated into weird sleeping arrangements. In particular, there were several more girls on the trip than boys, and so Diana ended up squeezed into her dad’s old Soviet army tent with two other girls, Leslie and Ellen. Meanwhile, my own father, always keen to get me into camping—I was very much an indoor kid, even though I nominally participated in sports: when I wasn’t running or wrestling, I would have much rather been sitting in the basement replaying Final Fantasy X—had taken me to REI and bought a comically large tent for me, plus a sleeping bag, a stove, various lamps, a big cannister of bear spray, and other stuff I’m forgetting.

I was just finishing setting up my tent, where I’d be sleeping alone, when Diana’s curly head popped through the flap.

“Hey!” she chirped. “Up for a hike?”

It was mid-afternoon, but I was kind of exhausted. So, it seemed, was everyone else—after getting ourselves out to the woods and getting set up, no one had much energy to then go on a long hike. Besides—we’d be there for the better part of a week, so there’d be plenty of time for that, right?

Diana was not satisfied with siting around the fire, cooking marshmallows, playing board games, and passing around the bottle of Jameson’s the dorm resident advisor was studiously ignoring. She wanted to go hiking and had been attempting to rally support for a stroll into the woods.

“Please, please, please,” she said, stepping into my tent and grabbing my arm, shaking it. “No one wants to go and I don’t wanna’ go by myself. I know there’s a lake, like, two or three miles down the trail. I want to go swimming.” And, making a comically perverted face—waggling her eye brows, moving her head from side to side a la Quagmire on the then-recently uncancelled Family—she added: “Maybe skinny dipping?”

I snorted. She continued to plead and finally, I gave in.

Like I said, I felt pretty comfortable with her, even kind of into her. I was mature enough to know that just because a girl wanted to hang out with you didn’t mean she wanted to fuck you or be your girlfriend, but at the same time, I figured SOMETHING could happen… We were two eighteen-year-olds going off into the woods together, so there had to be a chance, right?

When Diana announced to the group that we were hiking to the lake and anyone else could come if they wanted, though, I took that as a sign that she wasn’t angling to be alone with me. She was just a nice, friendly person, I reminded myself, and we’d only just met. No one took her up on the offer—a game of Apples to Apples was just starting up, and someone had rolled a joint—and so we went off on our own.

“Honestly,” Diana said once we were out of earshot of camp. “I’m kind of glad it’s just us.”

“Really? Why’s that?” I replied, doing everything I could not to get my hopes up.

“I mean, you just seem cool, and you’re easy to talk to, I guess,” she said, not meeting my gaze. I sensed a note of embarrassment in her voice. “And it’s just nice to like, get to know each other one on one without other people around.”

“Sure.”

“I mean,” she continued—she always had more to say. “You’re a guy, and I’m a girl. So, regardless of whether we actually want to do anything together, it’s like, if we spend a lot of time together, people are going to talk and think we are, and that makes it harder to… You know.”

“Get to know each other,” I filled in.

She nodded eagerly.

“Exactly.”

As we walked, we continued chatting about our lives up till college, and what we wanted to do in our new lives. Diana, like me, had just broken up with a significant other a few weeks before coming to college, and she was entering this new phase of her life single. She felt a strange kinship with her mother as a result, she said, because her dad had left her mother several years after they emigrated to the states, and her mom had mostly raised Diana and her sister on her own.

“And so, on the one hand, I’m like, I don’t need no man, I’m a strong independent woman,” Diana said, throwing up a miniature flexed bicep to illustrate her point. “But on the other hand, I kind of miss my ex-boyfriend.”

Later, I would put it together that for all of her strong, cheerful exterior, Diana had some pretty serious daddy issues, and definitely latched onto men for attention and validation. I guess I was unknowingly supplying that on the trip, and without psychoanalyzing her too much, I guess getting me alone meant that she didn’t have to share my attention with any of the other girls.

“Hey, check it out,” I said, interrupting her to point out the lake at the very end of the trail. The pine trees separated and the rich herbaceous scent of the forest gave way to the muddy scent of water. We sprinted to the end of the trail, giggling, and even though I could have easily outran Diana with my longer legs, I slowed down, letting her throw out an arm to try and stop me from reaching the lake before her, and throwing out one myself, grabbing a handful of her belly and arm.

We skidded to a halt on the edge of the lake, panting, gazing out at the glassy surface of the water, broken only now and then by a dragon fly landing. The water was brilliantly clear and blessedly cool on my toes when I took off my socks and boots to dip a foot in.

Diana started to unpack a bathing suit, and I realized, with a pit of embarrassment deep in my stomach, that I’d forgotten to pack my own. She broke into a big toothy grin when I admitted this.

“Oh, so you REALLY wanted to go skinny dipping,” she said.

“I didn’t do it on purpose! It’s fine, I’ll swim in my clothes—”

“No, don’t do that. You don’t want to wear wet clothes on the hike back. You’ll, like, get a rash.” She stripped her crop-top off over her head, revealing a sports bra that hugged her softball sized boobs. “Seriously, skinny dipping is, like, a rite of passage. Let’s do it.”

Still, she hesitated, taking off her sports bra, watching me.

“You’re, um, getting naked too, right?”

“Um, yeah. You—go first.”

“No way. Take off your shirt first. It’s a bigger deal for a girl to be shirtless.”

I stripped off my sweaty t-shirt without a second thought. Maybe I was a bit insecure about acne on my back, but I couldn’t argue with her logic.

“And your shorts,” she added.

“I just—”

“I think,” Diana continued. “That for a guy, you have to be almost naked for it to be equivalent to a girl having her boobs out. You only have one spot you need to cover up and I’ve got two!”

By this point, we were both losing it, giggling. Diana dropped her hands from her sports bra and, mock scowling, seized my shorts.

“I’ll do it myself then!” she declared, and pulled down. She didn’t just get my shorts, I realized too late, but my boxers too, peeling off the sweaty underwear as she left me with both pairs of shorts pooled around my ankles, my half-hard dick practically in her face.

“Jesus, Diana!”

She was cackling though, as I stepped out of my shorts. Now that I was naked, she gave in, and pulled her sports bra over her head, tousling her hair in the process, and let her breasts tumble out of it. Each breast had a tiny, light brown nipple, the size of a dime or smaller, and Diana instinctively went to cover herself. Then, she seemed to catch herself and put her hands on her hips, thrusting her chest forward.

“Get an eyeful, buddy. If you don’t get a boner, I’m going to be really insulted.”

I was, in fact, getting hard, and by the time she’d dropped her own shorts and slid down her thong—standard issue for a girl in 2007—I was at full, throbbing length.

“Shit,” Diana said, after staring at my dick for a moment. “That would split me in half.”

I’d honestly never thought of myself as having a big dick. Like lots of guys, I measured my cock on occasion, and had even gone to CVS to buy a ruler one dull summer afternoon when I couldn’t find one around the house for the specific purpose of measuring my own cock. Depending on how hard I pressed down on the fat covering my pubic bone, I could get it to about seven inches, but if I were being realistic, in terms of what I could actually get inside a girl, it was probably six and a half at most. Compared to the giant cocks I’d seen in porn, though, it seemed pretty average. I had only to foggiest understanding of how girth fit into all of this, and while my girlfriend, the one I’d just broken up with, said my cock felt “huge” inside of her, I assumed she was just being polite. At eighteen, like me, I figured she didn’t have enough experience to be able to tell.

Diana’s tiny body was now bared to me completely: her boobs, almost too big for her frame, and the puffy pussy lips between her thighs that were somehow thick and miniature at the same time. Her crotch was freshly waxed, and she absentmindedly ran a hand over the soft skin.

“I got a wax right before coming out here, just in case, so I’m glad someone’s getting to see it.”

I thought I saw something glistening in her slit, and started to feel hot—really hot, in fact.

“Um,” I said. “We should maybe put on sunscreen.”

Diana nodded, giggling.

“Right. We’re both so pale, we’re gonna’ fry and it’ll be obvious we were naked…”

Fortunately, I had packed sun screen, and so I unloaded a dollop into my hand and began applying it, passing the tube to Diana. She hesitated, then grabbed it, squeezed out a squirt directly onto her tits, and began rubbing them as the sun caught them and they began to glisten.

“Get my back?” she asked, and turned around, her bare back and heart-shaped ass pointed at me. I began to work the sunscreen into her back, giving her a kind of massage, but I was having trouble getting close enough to her without my cock touching her. Each time it did, she giggled, and kind of backed up, letting my cock slide up along her back, practically between her shoulder blades.

Fuck it, I thought, and stopped rubbing the sunscreen into her back. Instead, I grasped her tits from behind, covering them with my hands as she let out a triumphant moan and turned back to look at me.

“Yes, fuck, finally, babe,” she moaned again as I leaned down to kiss her. I practically enveloped her, she was so small, but she made up for her size with her eagerness to kiss me, sliding her tongue into my mouth so I could taste the coffee she’d had back at the camp and the Sour Patch kids she’d eaten on the way here. I bit at her lips as she leaned into the kiss, backing her ass up against me. She yelped when I twisted her nipples—gently, or so I thought—and moaned for me as I eased up, stroking them, groping her breasts, and kissing down her neck.

I wiped the remaining sunscreen on my fingers off onto her back and reached for that bare nexus between her legs, finding it hot, ready, and yielding: velvety, silky smooth pussy lips, coated in her juice, that all but coaxed me inside.

“Yeah,” she grunted, and gasped as my finger found her clit. Now, her breath came in short, sharp gasps as I stroked her slit, my finger riding the smooth glide of her lower lips. I held her tight against me and for a moment, she tried to grope behind me, looking for my cock, but gave up on that and grabbed onto my forearm, gripping at me whimperingly as I brought her to orgasm: her little body shook and trembled in my arms, and she groped at my thigh now, digging her nails into my skin as she let out a series of squeals. “Fuck, I’m cumming, I’mcummingimcummingimcumming…”

I had to admit, I was pretty fucking proud of myself. As Diana’s breathing slowed, changing from panting gasps into deep, satisfied gulps of air, I stroked her naked body, savoring the feeling of her in my arms, the many scents of our surroundings: the forest, the lake, the sunscreen, our sweat, and now, the musky scent of her dripping pussy.

“Um, just do you know, I didn’t bring any condoms,” I said, when we’d been quiet for a few moments.

“You’re telling me an eighteen year old boy went on a sleepaway trip with a bunch of girls and didn’t bring condoms?”

“No, I meant, on this walk,” I said. I gave her a sheepish grin when she smiled up at me. “I have some in my tent but…”

“Well, do you have any nasty diseases?”

“No. Do you?”

“Nope. And I’m on the pill, so I don’t see why you can’t… Y’know…” She was suddenly bashful talking about this, in a way I found endearing and adorable, in a way that made me want to gobble her up.

“Cum inside you,” I said, loudly, loud enough that if anyone had been around us, they would have heard. She elbowed me gently and turned around in my embrace, reaching for my dick with both hands, as though measuring it

“Yeah,” she said. Her voice was quiet and husky. “I want that.”

There was a picnic table near by, and Diana hopped atop it, laying back and spreading her legs. She tried to put her hands between her legs, and broke into a giggling fit when I pulled them away.

“I’m embarrassed; don’t look,” she squealed. “It’s yucky.”

“From what I can tell, you have a fucking gorgeous pussy,” I half-whispered, and that got her staring up at me, wide-eyed. She lay back, and took her hands away, allowing me to spread her and explore her.

“You really think so?” she asked. “I always thought it was ugly and smelly. And I’m all sweaty.”

“I love all that about you.”

“That I’m ugly and stinky?”

“Your pussy is gorgeous, and it smells… like pussy.”

She giggled again, wiggling a bit, getting comfortable as I spread her puffy outer lips to find her pink, sticky inner lips. She sighed as I touched her and gasped when I leaned forward to tease my tongue along her clit.

“You—you don’t have to do that,” she whimpered, but I was already working a finger inside of her, coaxing gasps from her lips as my tongue washed over her. I’d always wanted to eat out my ex-girlfriend, and she too was embarrassed—but she too, also, went to pieces when I licked her, and before long, Diana was gripping my scalp, whimpering and shaking. “Shit, shit, shit, I think—I’m almost there—almost—”

I felt her cum before she announced it, because I could feel her milky wet hole quaking and clenching, spasming around my fingers as I stroked in and out of her. Her pussy really was tiny, I remember thinking as it gripped me—if I were to fuck her, she’d really stretch…

Well, that was a risk I was willing to take. I stood, and pulled her into a kiss, and she was all the more eager—it was like tasting her own pussy on my mouth set her off and I felt her short arms pulling at my hips, coaxing me towards her.

She spread her legs, opening the creamy pink cunt before me as wide as it would go and looked up at me with her dreamy brown eyes: “Just go slow, okay? My last boyfriend wasn’t as big as you and I haven’t done this in a few weeks anyway…”

I pressed the tip of my cock against the warm wetness of her slit and began to ease myself in. To this day, I’m positive she was absolutely the tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked. She was dripping wet, having orgasmed twice, and I still felt her hole stretch and then, sort of stop stretching, giving me resistance as I pushed inside.

Diana winced in a cute way, that both hurt my heart and made me want to ram my cock into her.

“You okay? Should I keep going?”

“Yeah,” she said, breathing slowly, deep. The head of my cock was barely inside of her and it was taking all of my strength to resist slamming myself the rest of the way into her. Her hole was so hot, she might as well have been feverish, and somehow, as she whimpered and grimaced, I pushed all the way inside of her.

“Holy fuck,” she gasped, as I held her close. She wrapped her legs around my waist—or, rather, she tried to, but her legs didn’t go all the way and so they just sort of clung to my hips.

“How is it?” I whispered in her ear, my muscles still begging me to just fuck her with reckless abandon, even if it tore her apart. I was doing my best to be gentle with her tiny body and I kissed her neck, her cheek and chin, and over her collarbone, suckling one of her nipples while she got used to me.

“It’s… a lot…” she said. She let out a groan. “I’m going to feel this in the morning. I think you can… Y’know, start moving now…”

I slid myself about half an inch out and then thrust into her, a bit harder than I intended but she squeaked a soft: “Yes!” in my ear, and so the next thrust was longer and a bit harder, and that got me a happy groan and within seconds, I was fucking her: bracing myself over her, thrusting harder and harder into her, smashing her into the picnic table as her face distorted with pleasure and pain.

“Oh my god,” she sobbed and I saw a tear fall from her cheek. “You’re fucking killing me.”

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

“No, fuck me, baby! Fuck me up!” She yelped as I pounded myself into her harder. “Oh my god, you’re ripping me apart, baby, yes!”

Hearing her sob so eagerly, begging me to destroy her like that—that caught me off guard. That did something to me—uncovered something deviant inside my heart. I gripped her tiny hips, stabbing my cock into her, plunging it as she struggled beneath me…

…or at least, I did for another thirty seconds. Look.

I was a teenage boy.

I blew my load in about three minutes of quick thrusting. It was an incredible orgasm, feeling my load drip and gush into her and Diana let out a happy squeal, actually drooling as she arched her back, thrusting her plump little tits towards the sun.

“Fuck,” she said. “I think I almost came. Or I had a little orgasm. A weird little orgasm. Fuck.”

“Sorry I came so fast—” I stuttered out. “You’re just so tight, so…”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, panting, grinning up at me. She held her arms out and up, hands wide, demonstrating that she wanted to be held, and I wrapped her up in my arms, kissing her deep, letting my half hard cock rest in her sloppy pussy.

After a few moments of tongue dueling, she whispered in my ear—“Think you can go again?”

I’m approaching middle age now (or in the early throes of it, depending on who you ask), and I’ve learned a hard lesson about cumming—if you want to go a good lover, and you’re a man, your own orgasm is the enemy. The “post-nut clarity,” specifically, will plunge you into a kind of existential dread that can sabotage even the most perfect of nights. These days, I’m careful to avoid cumming until the end of an encounter, using all sorts of delaying tactics, only allowing myself to blow once my partner is good and spent. Back at eighteen, though, I had a bit more wiggle room, shall we say—I was still mostly hard inside of Diana and when I began moving my hips again and she whimpered, my cock rose to the occasion.

Now, I slid out of her all the way and turned her over, so she was lying with her belly on the picnic table, her short, stubby legs hanging down, kicking back and forth as I spread her ass cheeks. An adorably tight star of butthole flesh winked back at me while her pink slit drooled cum down her thighs. I plunged myself into her, holding her tight by the hips and she yelped, jumping in my hands and squealing.

“Fuck!” she howled. “Just like that. Oh my god. Oh my god, just like that. Right there. Keep doing that.”

I pounded into her, kind of in and down. I knew something about the G-spot and I’d tried stimulating my ex’s with some success, and judging from the way Diana yelped with each thrust, I guessed I might have found it again. I had the distinct impression I was fucking a dog’s chewy squeak toy, considering her size and the way she squeaked and squealed hoarsely with each thrust. When I told her this later, she found it so amusing that from then on, in our friendship, she referred to sex with her as “squeak.” As in, “Hey, I’ve got a scary midterm tomorrow. Can I get some squeak tonight to relax?”

This time, I lasted much longer. Diana came at least once, maybe more, but I’d find that she sometimes had trouble telling if her weaker orgasms were actually orgasms or just particularly strong and pleasurable spasms. It was far easier to thrust into her now, since she was full of my cum, and her pussy seemed to have relaxed nicely, inviting me in rather than trying to keep me out. Diana was clearly growing exhausted from being fucked, judging from how quiet and pathetic her whimpers were growing, but her butt still rose to press against me as I thrust into her.

Finally, I blew my second load inside of her, after a good ten or fifteen minutes of nearly non-stop thrusting.

“Oh my god,” came Diana’s tired whimper. “I’ve never, ever been fucked like that before.”

I was dripping with sweat by this point and so was she. There was something so primal, so wild about fucking in the middle of the woods, with the sun beating down on us, no one around for miles. Diana’s legs trembled as she slid off the table and brushed dirt and wood chips off her belly and ass.

“Okay,” she said, after taking a few deep breaths. “I, like, gotta’ go pee this out.” She looked around, first at the woods and then at the lake. “Is it weird if I pee in the lake?”

“I mean, the fish do it all the time, right?”

She snorted, and, with one hand between her legs, waddled over to the shore.

I was about to turn around out of politeness, but then she called my name. She was squatting, her legs spread, a hand still covering her crotch. When she took it away, a thick dollop of cum oozed out of her swollen pussy.

“Is it weird if I want you to watch me?”

“Sure is, but I don’t mind,” I said with a laugh. A stream of clear piss gushed out of her slit, along with more of my cum. I wasn’t into to piss per se, but I was very into her pussy, and seeing her cunt like this was novel, shall we say. Diana had an exhibitionist streak, I would realize later on.

We swam in the lake, hiking to the other side to be away from where she peed, whatever good that did. The cold water felt good on our sunny, flushed skin, and but soon Diana was clinging to me for warmth. Despite the water’s chill, my cock was hard again from being so close to her and I grunted when she grabbed it.

“Jesus, I can’t believe I had this thing inside of me,” she said.

“Think you can go again?” I asked, pulling her close in the water so that my cock was stroking her butt while I played with her nipples. She made a soft humming sound as she sighed.

“Maybe… But maybe I should pace myself… Here.”

She led me over to a rock and pushed me up onto it, so that she was still wading in the water and I was sitting just above it, at head height for her. She gripped my cock, stroking it a few times, before taking me in her mouth, sucking and slurping.

What she lacked in skill at giving blow jobs she made up for in enthusiasm, pressing her face hard against my cock and gagging a few times. Despite the adorably sexy visage of her big eyes looking up at me, begging me to cum, I suspected it would take a while, and she must have as well because soon she sighed, rubbed her jaw, and pulled me down off the rock. She replaced me on the rock, like a mermaid half out of water, lying belly down, and reached back to spread her thighs and butt cheeks.

“I know that’s what you want,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“You’re sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Just fuck me, baby,” she said. “We’re all alone out here—I can’t stop you.”

I sensed, from this, that she wanted me to be a bit rougher, a bit more dominant, and I wondered if I had been too gentle with her, treating her like a tiny doll that might break. I pressed myself against her, and found that the water had washed away much of her lubrication. I reached down to touch her, teasing her lips until I felt her growing a bit slippery again, and then forced myself inside of her.

She wailed, shrieking as I pumped into her. She’d grown tighter again, and her pussy absolutely gripped my cock as I fucked her. I grabbed her arms, pulling them back, immobilizing her and making her arch her back and thrust her chest forward. She squealed the whole time, and moaned for me when I let go and put a hand on her throat from behind, not choking her but just holding her like that.

“Yes, yes, baby,” she groaned. “You can choke me a bit… Just… Ah, fuck… Not too hard…”

I did, squeezing her throat gently, not nearly enough to actually hurt her but enough so that she felt me in control. I reached for her wet hair, and grabbed a fistful, pulling back, and she moaned in approval of this as well. Thrusting as hard as I could into her, she writhed in my hands, struggling and squirming, until I finished deep in her swollen pussy.

“Okay,” she said. “Now I’m done for the day. No more pussy for you.” She punctuated that with an index finger poking me in the chest. “I need to reset.”

She said that, of course, but the hike back to camp found her bent over a fallen log, grunting as I drove myself into her.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this again… Oh, baby, yes, make me yours, fuck…” I remember her whimpering, her jean shorts pooled down around her ankles. She giggled later as I watched her pee over the very same log.

And then, of course, the encounter that began this story. I’d told Diana that I had a big tent and a big sleeping bag and at first, she’d insisted that she wouldn’t come join me, but by the time we’d reached camp, she was relenting fast and said she might slip into my tent if the girls she was sharing hers with were snoring.

Fast forward a few hours, and it seemed like I’d barely laid down in my own tent before the zipper was opening and Diana was slipping inside.

She made her way into my sleeping bag, and it seemed like her clothes dissolved, pajama pants and t-shirt discarded somewhere in the recesses of my tent. We rolled around, giggling and kissing, nibbling and biting each other. I licked her while she bit my pillow to keep from squealing, and I remember vividly how swollen her entire anatomy was: her delicate little pussy lips, hidden inside the puffy fat of her vulva, seemed to have exploded outwards, enflamed and sensitive from their workout earlier in the day.

Then, she climbed on top of me, grunting like a wild animal as she worked herself down onto my cock, bouncing her hips up and down until I came inside of her.

“Gonna’ go pee?” I asked after she slid off me and settled down next to me.

“Nah, I’m too sleepy. If I get a UTI, then so be it,” she said with a shrug.

We awoke together in the morning, and of course, she ended up beneath me, moaning softly as I thrust into her. We rested for a bit, chatting, before she applied her mouth to my cock, eager to taste herself on my dick. It was around then that our RA stuck his head in to ask if I’d seen her.

The rest of the camping trip passed more or less like that. Whenever we could, we stole away to fuck. I’d been interested in meeting the other girls on the trip, but they gave me a wide berth, as though respecting that Diana had dibs. I was having a great time with her, and I was working up the courage to ask her to be my girlfriend when we got back to campus when she dropped this bombshell.

“I can’t wait to fuck more guys back at school,” she said casually, sitting in my tent in nothing but one of my t-shirts. “This has been such a good, like, introduction to college sex for me.”

I stared at her, stomach in knots.

“Diana,” I said softly. “I thought we might…”

She pursed her lips.

“Yeah, I was thinking that too.” She crawled over to me, kissed me, pushing me down and getting on top of me. In moments, I was inside of her, but she just warmed my cock with her pussy, her body weight resting lightly on my hips. “I kind of want to date you. Like, I feel like I’m in love with you but I think that’s just because we’ve been having sex nonstop and our hormones are like whoa right now, right?”

She began moving her hips a bit and I had to nod and agree. I knew she was right.

“But, like, that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends with benefits.”

“So, we’d keep having sex…”

“And we could just have sex with other people too. And, like, I won’t be pissed if you don’t get me a necklace for my birthday or shit like that. We can do all the fun parts of being boyfriend and girlfriend and none of the lame parts.”

That, actually, sounded pretty fantastic, and not just because Diana was starting to bounce on my cock now.

“Like, we can have sex as much as you want,” she whispered huskily. “Any time you want me for a booty call, I’ll be available. Deal?”

“Deal,” I groaned as I exploded inside of her.

As it turned out, we lived in the same dorm, and even on the same floor, just down the hall from one another. When we got back to campus, I ended up carrying both our bags up half a dozen flights of stairs because there was a line for the elevator, what with all the students moving in.

“You poor thing, working so hard,” Diana said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. She still wasn’t tall enough, so she had to grab at my shirt collar and pull me down. “Let me reward you.”

“My dick is all sweaty,” I protested as she made me sit on her bed and knelt between my legs.

“Dude, I just spent the last week in the woods licking your sweaty dick every single day. You think I don’t know what it tastes like? Just relax—”

We heard the door to her dorm start to open and Diana jumped to her feet.

I should explain something about our dorm—for freshmen, it was mostly doubles, so: one room, two beds and desks and dressers and all that, plus a small entryway and bathroom. We each had a roommate but because we’d signed up for this camping trip prior to move in starting, we’d gotten to know each other before actually meeting our roommates.

“You must be Noelle,” Diana said, trying to act naturally, trying to act as though she weren’t just about to choke herself on my dick.

The girl who walked in dragging suitcases wasn’t much bigger than Diana, with dirty blonde hair up in a messy bun. She wore a rugby shirt and jean shorts, a kind of cute preppy look accentuated by her glasses. She gave us both a big smile, expressing not a single ounce of suspicion at my presence.

Now, we get into the vagaries of the past. In my memory, she looks like a more approachable version of Brooke Shields, the absolute quintessence of the girl next door. Her skin was lightly tanned from a summer no doubt spent at 4^(th) of July cookouts and baseball games, a la Jack and Diane, two American kids growing up in the heartland. In photos, Noelle is not so beautiful: she has acne, her mouth is a bit too large for her face, she slouches. But this story is about my memories of Diana and Noelle, and so, reader, see these girls as I remember them, not as I saw them.

Diana beamed approvingly as I shook Noelle’s hand.

After all, I thought, Gollum-like—why shouldn’t I? She said we could sleep with other people…

I’ll stop here for now. I hope you enjoyed this story—I enjoyed writing it. I’m no longer young, these memories are a place I can never go back to, and recreating them here is a sorry substitute for the real thing, but it’s the best I’ve got. Have a good weekend, friends, and do something you’ll remember when you’re old.