Travelogue

"Mm-hmm!" I nodded, still trying to chew.

Lila kissed my cheek and then disappeared into the kitchen to help clean up.

—

Today, I was to help the men finish digging fencepost holes so "we can get this god-forsaken fence up before the winter frost" (Mr. Summerall's words). It didn't take me long to figure out why the men ate the way they did.

There were a few other teenage boys with us, guys I knew from the lake. They all seemed to know exactly what they were doing with the equipment. Even Tommy, who was normally a complete goofball, seemed serious once he started digging.

I am not really much of a manual labor guy, but I really tried hard, put my back into it. I was issued instructions (where to dig) and a shovel to use, and I did dig with gusto. Honestly, I worked hard because I wanted the Summeralls to respect me, and also because I figured Lila, on some level, might respect me more if I showed I could do this kind of work. That turned out not to be true, but I didn't know better at the time.

So I dug my hole. It wasn't perfect, and really, compared to Samuel's, it was kind of a joke, but when Mr. Summerall came over to inspect it (I was half-done) he grunted in approval.

"Just don't let it get any wider," he advised. Then, he stopped to look at me. "You're sweet on my Lila?"

I wasn't ready for that. I felt my forehead grow instantly hot and then break out in tiny sweat-beads. "Yes, sir," I said. And then: "She's a beautiful girl."

He grunted and took out some dirt with his shovel. "Well, it's all right by me. But just keep your pecker in your pants. We don't need any babies appearing before their time."

I stood there, having no idea what to do.

He paused for a moment, and then allowed: "I like you, kid. Don't give me a reason not to."

"Yes, sir."

He never mentioned Lila to me again, after that. As I dug some more, I felt pretty sure that he didn't know about our trips into the forest; it was just a general warning. But he did succeed in scaring me.

—

We did keep visiting the forest, Lila and I. That particular day, we hiked out about halfway to the lake, and then she led me to a side path and out to a really giant boulder that she wanted me to see. Or, so she said. Really, I think she wanted an excuse to get out of sight so she could show me what was underneath the top of her dress. She was almost always wearing one of her nursing bras, so it was easy to get access to a breast.

Sexually, I wanted to go further, but I still had to force myself to be patient. I definitely did want to suckle her (and she encouraged it, loved it); she also let me help her masturbate to orgasm. I wasn't allowed to do it with my hand alone, but she "guided" my fingers over her clit with her panties still on. (In her mind, if she moved my finger and I wasn't touching her directly then we weren't going as far.) It was nice just being able to reach under her dress.

Before we started playing between Lila's legs, she gave in to temptation and—eyes shut—asked me to pull out my cock. I did, and she gently explored it with her fingers; it immediately grew erect and thick for her. I didn't have a problem with her seeing it, but she seemed to think that keeping her eyes closed made a difference, like we weren't really having sex if she couldn't see me. She seemed to know her way around a dick; she knew to touch my balls gingerly, she knew how to press and stroke in the space between my balls in a way that felt good, and when she started fapping me, I was sure she'd done it before. She did it pretty well considering she couldn't see what she was doing. Meanwhile, she had peeled down one of the cups of her bra and was holding a breast out to me. I lowered my mouth to it and pulled in the long, knotty nipple. After a minute: milk. Something about feeding me while stroking my cock really did it for Lila; her enthusiasm grew. Her hand knew to steadily increase its speed, and within the space of two minutes, I was coming, shooting a thick load a couple of feet out in front of us. I found myself wishing she'd seen that display.

After I was done, I put my cock away and encouraged her to touch herself; I wasn't going to walk away without her having an orgasm, too. So, she had four.

I knew about multiple orgasms, of course. Once in a while Katie would manage two orgasms while we were doing it, but this didn't really compare. Lila had her first one, and then she kept having another about every minute or so; she stopped only after she felt she'd had enough. Each one seemed bigger than the last.

I noticed that her orgasms lasted a long time. Me? When I come it's for maybe five seconds, and that's actually kind of a long one. But I noticed Lila's orgasms seemed to last for about half a minute or even more; they seemed to go on and on. I knew when they began because of the way her hand moved my finger over her panties. Most of the time she'd guide me in a rhythm, pushing me across her scratchy pubic tuft and over the pronounced bump of her clit. She would start moving much faster, jerking my hand, and then her loud breathing turned into a powerful moan, and I was pretty sure she had started coming. Her hand had stopped my finger, and her milk flow increased noticeably, too, and her body would jerk a little and sort of seize up—like she was paralyzed by the orgasm.

Lila was really loud when she came. Katie had been a quiet girl, partly because she didn't want my parents to hear her, I'm sure, but when she had an orgasm, I could barely tell—she'd usually inform me later. Lila wailed and sometimes almost screamed. Yes, we were all alone in a forest, so I'm sure she felt free, but I'm not altogether sure she could control it. I remember feeling a twinge of envy at how much pleasure she seemed to be experiencing; it dwarfed mine. I was happy for her, though.

When it was over, we cleaned up; Lila used a small towel to dry her breast and wipe between her legs, then changed panties and put the old ones into her tote . Then we trotted back over to the main trail and made it to the lake. I again hid my eyes while she pulled her dress off and splashed in, and then I joined her in the icy water.

—

The days began to blur, and it felt as though I'd known Lila and her family for eons (although in truth, it had been a little more than maybe three weeks). These were glorious, swampy, hot and lazy days with nothing to do except to hang out with Lila, and sometimes with her sisters and the rest.

We spent about every afternoon out at the lake, sometimes alone together, mostly with other older teens about our age, all naked. Being nude here truly was the rule; no one ever brought a swimsuit. For all the modesty of dress in town, particularly amongst the girls with their long skirts and long sleeves, there was absolute freedom at the lake. The girls (except for Lila) had no reservations about climbing out of the water and walking around in full display; the guys would do the same, and they didn't seem the slightest bit self-conscious about the full-on erections they often had. I did see the girls glancing at them, by the way, and certainly the guys all checked the girls out, but it was in an everyday, casual way, no big fireworks of lust. Lila and I, we stayed in the water—she still wasn't ready for me to see her from the waist down, though all the others had seen her naked at the lake prior to my arrival—so she didn't know about my near-continuous hard-on. She was the main catalyst for it, but I mean, there were other girls with bodies on display there, and I'm a man.

I realized, after hanging out with them over a couple of days, that none of the girls in Watley shaved at all; every single one of them of them had body hair. It's not something I'd notice immediately, but at some point in the course of a conversation, like while I watched Lila and her friends splashing around in waist-deep water while animatedly debating the possibility of a Starbucks coming to Watley, I'd realize that Clara Ann (who was Lila's third cousin) had small mounds of blackish hair under her arms. And so did Emma; hers was dark brown and bushy. Most of the girls were thin, and many were pretty, and while stealing covert looks, I became aware that all of them had hair on their bodies. Emma was a little bit chunky, but her face was cute and she was quite feminine, and I thought body hair actually looked kind of nice on her.

As I was becoming conscious of it, I would watch as one of the girls walked out of the water and notice that she too had a thick bush between her legs and some hair on her shins and thighs and maybe even below her belly button. The amount of hair varied widely; Cecelia (Lila's second cousin) had underarm hair that was light-colored and sparse, and you could barely see any hair on her legs, whereas Eva Lee—who was a especially beautiful girl—had so much black hair in her armpits that you could see it sticking out even when her arms were down. Her legs had dark, coarse hair, too. It didn't matter; Eva Lee was very pretty and very girly.

It had been a strange juxtaposition for me, coming from a whole huge culture of girls who shaved and trimmed almost everything, but after a few days, I found myself used to it. Somehow, underarm hair on a nice-looking girl was something you expected, and it seemed feminine. It did remain a tiny bit strange for me, and yet it was also completely normal. I guess if you think about this whole thing in the abstract, it might seem objectionable, but if you are actually there, around a lot of cute, naked girls who have body hair, it not only seems natural (because it is), but in a lot of cases (like Lila's) it's actually kind of alluring. Certainly, none of the guys talked about it at all, and none of them seemed to be bothered by it in the slightest.

—

On a normal day, a few of the guys would fish for a couple of hours, right on the bank, but mostly they hung out in the water with the girls, flirting, and trying to get them to go out into the woods with them. Dating couples would often disappear for a couple of hours at a time, and in some cases you might hear the girl moaning in the distance. (Lila and I were guilty of sneaking away like this, too, to explore each other's bodies some more, eyes mostly closed.) Tommy sometimes spent half a day yelling and goofing around on the tire swing.

One particular day, maybe about the fifth day Lila and I were out at the lake, there were about ten of us total in the water, spread out all over. Lila and I were playing water-fight out in one corner, while the others were mostly either swimming near the shore, or tossing back beers on the muddy beach and listening to country music. (Lila did not drink—none of the girls did—but some of the guys would bring beer along. I abstained with Lila.)

A lot of the girls had air mattresses, and over the course of the day, they'd eventually collect themselves, floating, near the center of the lake. Lila called it their "floatilla." They'd lay out there, laughing and gossiping, periodically reapplying sun block. Guys would swim their way and talk to them; they'd swim away after a few minutes, and sometimes a girl would abandon her air mat and go off with one of them. Sometimes I'd hear the telltale moans and cries from the trees, and I'd assume they were out there doing it. Once in a while I'd actually catch a glimpse of a couple out behind some trees, sometimes just making out, sometimes fucking. And, sometimes, I'd see a couple snuggling up, the girl with her breast pressed into the guy's undulating mouth.

Anyway, at one point, Lila swam over to me and wrapped herself around me, leaving me to dog-paddle like mad to keep us both afloat. Her breasts pushed into my chest like pointy cushions. In my ear, she said, "Come over here." I looked at her, and she nudged me and gave me a sly look. She released me and swam away.

I followed her over to the far edge of the lake. The water was shallower there, and both of our chests were above water. I noticed how dark and long Lila's nipples looked.

Lila pointed toward one edge of the lake. I peered, and realized that we had a clear view into the small grotto hidden behind the waterfall. In it, a girl (it was Eva Lee) was sitting over a guy (Jake), jerking and rolling her hips. I glanced back to Lila, and she gave me a big, wicked grin.

We both stood there and watched, fascinated by the scene. Eva Lee leaned over and put her arms down on the guy's trunk to support herself, and her speed increased; her smallish breasts bobbed in rhythm as they fucked. Her mouth was open and she may have been making noise, but if she was, it was drowned out by the waterfall. We could see Jake's hips bucking up toward her as she bounced on him. His hands appeared at her chest and squeezed her breasts, stroked her skin, even moved to her armpits to fondle the thick hair there. When I looked carefully, I was pretty sure I could see something dripping from Eva Lee's big, beet-red nipples. Jake held her under her arms and started really pushing himself into her. We couldn't really see his cock from where we were, but his speed and determination were obvious. One of Eva Lee's hands went down between her legs and went to work. After another minute or so, she collapsed onto his body, his thrusting reached a fever pitch, and then suddenly stopped.

"Geez," I heard Lila say.

I looked over to her.

"They came at practically the same time," she said. Lila looked up at me, an eyebrow raised. "That's kind of impressive."

We turned to swim away before we were spotted.

—

I remember that it was a Thursday when my mom cornered me: "Have you met someone?"

I had been trying to keep this all private, but something made me confess. "Yeah," I told her, "I met a girl. Lila."

My mom just beamed at me, as if proud for some reason. "Well." Then: "Do you think that Lila would like to come over for dinner?"

I felt alarmed. I had no idea if she even could; would her family let her miss a meal at that big kitchen table?

"Um," I said. "I'll ask. I dunno, her family is kind of, you know—they like to eat together and stuff."

"Oh, well, just tell her she's invited, maybe tomorrow night?"

"OK."

And so I asked Lila about it. I fully expected to hear that there was no way she could do it, but instead, she just gave me an angelic grin and said, somewhat formally, that why, yes, she would be delighted to attend supper at my house. No mention of having to ask permission, no concern about what her own mom would say. Just a yes.

So, Friday evening at about 5 PM, I went over to the Summerall ranch to pick up Lila. Not having my own car, and not really wanting to borrow my parents', this simply meant walking. It was necessary to pick her up, though. In a small town that seemed in many ways to be a throwback in time, it was only proper that I call on her so that I could escort her to my house.

Shirley opened the door (again), and I broke into a big grin. She was a cute, precocious little girl, charming and innocent.

"Hello, ma'am," I said to her. "Is Miss Lila at home?"

"Yeah," said Shirley. "Auntie Lila is here."

"May I please call on her?"

She looked at me curiously.

I chuckled. "May I come in?"

"Well, yeah." She obviously couldn't figure out why I hadn't simply walked in. Permission to enter? I was practically a member of the household by now.

Lila appeared then. She was wearing one of her nicer dresses, and her hair was tied back in a pretty way. Her tote bag was on her arm. (I realized right then that she didn't seem to own an actual purse.)

"Hi," she said.

"You look pretty," I confessed.

"Thank you," she answered demurely, allowing a smile.

"Auntie Lila just fed me!" announced Shirley, who was still standing there. "With her boobie."

Lila grinned. "Yes, sweetie, that's right." She looked at me. "Shirley was feeling upset."

I nodded. I was still not used to the idea that this happened all the time.

"I'm all better now," Shirley declared.

I smiled at that. "Well, that's good," I told her. I looked over to Lila. "Um, well, ready?"

Before she could answer, her mom appeared. "Have a good time. Don't stay out too late." Mrs. Summerall looked at me: "Please tell your mother I said hello."

I nodded and smiled at her; "Yes, ma'am." Then I took Lila's arm and we set off.

—

"Can we stop here?"

We were passing this old greasy spoon diner that wasn't terribly far from the road to my house.

"Uh, yeah." I looked at her quizzically.

"OK, just stay here. I'll be right back." Lila walked over to a side entrance—I wouldn't have even noticed it—and disappeared inside.

When she re-emerged, she had changed her clothes completely. She had on casual slacks with a black-and-white square print (this was the first time I'd seen her wearing pants!), a white sleeveless spaghetti-strap blouse, and a small, pastel-colored sweater sort of thing that only covered her shoulders (Lila called this a "cover-up shawl"). I was glad she was wearing the cover-up shawl over that sleeveless blouse; my parents were pretty open-minded people, but I didn't know if they were ready for the hair under Lila's arms.

I gawked at her for a second, and then said, "Wow, forget what I said before. You are truly beautiful." I meant it.

She curtseyed, being silly, and thanked me. "Let's get going," she said. "I don't really want anyone to recognize me; it'll get back to my parents."

We started down the road to my house.

"You like it, though?"

I nodded emphatically. "You're a really pretty girl, Lila," I told her. "But it's amazing to me how different you can look. I'm not sure I'd recognize you." A beat. "I sure would notice you, though."

She squeezed my hand as we walked.

—

The thing about my dad was that he liked being really up-front about everything—like, blunt. Especially about sex. That was cool enough when I was dating Katie, because she didn't mind talking about it, and her parents didn't really care what we did, or where we did it. So we could fuck in my room, she could spend the night, and my dad would just knock at the door in the morning and asked what "you kids" wanted for breakfast. Eventually, Katie even had an "emergency" stash of clothes stored in my dresser, and her razors and deodorant in my bathroom.

Anyway, we got to my house, and I went to introduce Lila to my parents, but my dad hijacked the process.

He sort of bowed, winking, and told her, "David Liam McGowen," sticking his hand out to meet hers.

She didn't miss a beat. "Delila Ann Summerall, sir, pleasure to make your acquaintance." Her soft drawl was evident enough to make her sound cute. "Please call me Lila."

My mom played along: "Jennifer Leigh Swanson McGowen," she told Lila, shaking her hand, too.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," said Lila.

My mother offered to take Lila's shawl for her, which Lila politely declined ("I actually like the way it feels on my skin, if it's all the same," she said). But right then I decided I didn't care if Lila did take off her shawl. If my parents noticed the hair under her pretty little arms, so be it; she wasn't their girlfriend. And I liked the way it looked.

We all sat down at the table; my mom announced that dinner would be ready soon.

"Or," my dad chimed in, "should we call it supper?" He was looking at Lila, his eyes twinkling slightly.

She smiled at him: "Yes, sir, it would be supper. Dinner is our noon meal if you were to be technical about it."

Dad told her to stop calling him "sir" and ordered her to call him "Dave."

My mom, who'd already gotten up to check the pasta, yelped "Call me Jen!" from the kitchen.

I noticed Lila, while smiling, was shifting a bit uncomfortably; the informality of calling an adult by a first name was clearly unusual for her.

Dad proceeded to grill her in a friendly way, wanting to know if she was already in college, what she might want to do in life (she said she might want to study to be a nurse, but probably wanted to travel first), the usual questions. (Yes, this was the first I'd heard of her wanting to study nursing, and yes, the coincidence struck me as kind of funny.)