Chapter 2: Powder Puff
by Psyche Summer
Shoshanna
Maybe it’s because I’m Taiwanese, that I’m such a fighter… that I refuse to listen to common sense. Good judgment. Reason. My country is in a constant fight against domination by the neighboring Chinese; my parents, in solidarity with the West, chose all anglicized names for their three daughters: Megan, Alyssa… and me, the youngest: Shoshanna. Shoshanna who is also in a constant fight against domination… by anyone, everyone. Who never met a word she liked better than “no.”
So maybe it was the rebel spirit in me that gritted its teeth when my good friend Kelly told me what happened to her the other night at the pool. It’s not that I was jealous exactly, but I am an attention whore, and all of her revelations about her “master Drake” left me unsettled, and frankly, quite horny.
So when Camp Lindenwood’s end-of-the-summer festivities rolled around on the hottest weekend in August, I decided it was my turn to get in on the fun. All that week I had tempted fate, wearing dresses and shorts that would drive most men to distraction. I flaunted my assets: perfectly tanned skin, round full breasts, eminently grab-able ass, long dark hair and my signature, mega-watt smile, but to no avail. Mister-Master Drake did not even say one little word to me.
I complained to Kelly who laughed and asked me why a girl, like me, who could have her pick of any bastard at the camp, wanted the one man she couldn’t have. Like that didn’t answer itself…. I tried to get in good with Donna, the head counselor for girls, who according to Kelly had Drake’s name inked above her ass, but she just gave me extra caf duty. Ugh. So when Friday night came along, I decided to pull out all the stops.
It was powder-puff football, an annual tradition in which the girls play touch football and the guys cheer on the sidelines, a little friendly gender reversal. The younger kids couldn’t play, of course, too much of an insurance risk… so they sat in the stands… Now most of the girls aren’t really serious about playing. They run up and down the field a few times, but me, well, like I said before, I am accustomed to my fair share of attention, and nothing gets a guy’s attention better than the sight of a full on female-to-female body slam.
For the event in question I wore some fine tight, white booty shorts. I cut my red football jersey to graze my navel, showing off the shiny diamond stud I always wear beneath. I chose the number 69. Subtlety has never been one of my charms. When Kelly saw me she told me I looked “like a fucking moron.” I told her as long as I looked like a “fuckable moron” I didn’t care.
Kelly and I arrive at the field a little late. Donna made us carry the equipment. The guys are already acting stupid on the sidelines, building human pyramids, and writing swear words with lipsticks on their chests. Remind me to never date boys my age, please. Ugh. Grouped in the field I see girls, lots of girls. Girls dressed in blue for campers and red for counselors. I see Simone’s flaming red hair, she is talking in one end zone to her friend Halla, from Finland. She looks super bored. She cut her jersey to fall off her shoulder though; it looks real cute in a Flashdance-y kind of way; wish I’d thought of it. Avery is off to the side trying to coax two girls into participating… she is pretty good with the kids. She’s cute too. If you like that nice girl look. I am still searching though… still looking. Finally, I see Mr. Drake sitting on the bleachers with Donna, first row, front and center. I start to walk over. Kelly groans and starts to follow me, but I shake her off.
So, I saunter up to the man, flashing what I hope is my best smile: “Hi Mr. Drake” I drawl, flashing my 69 clad chest right in his face.
The man doesn’t bat an eye-lid. Donna whispers in his ear.
“Oh, hello there Shannon,”
Ugh. “Shoshanna” I correct him.
“Right, Shoshanna…. How’s your evening?” He is so not looking at me.
Taking a deep breath, I reply, “swimmingly. My night is going swimmingly.” I arch an eyebrow.
I think Donna is stifling a giggle. Or a snort. I am mortified. But I try not to show it. Instead I toss my hair about and trot off.
Back on the field Kelly tells me I act like a fucking fruit loop and that I better not embarrass her anymore. She then waves to “Mr. Master” in the stands and THEN makes a way too big of a production of bending over to tie her shoe. Geez. I am relieved when the whistle finally blows and I can start tackling people. By half-time I have mostly forgotten my rejection, and by the end of the game: two touchdowns and one interception later, I am feeling good. Kelly and I jog off the field, there’s a sweaty sheen on my face; we’re all ready for campfires and s’mores when we are stopped by Donna. She is holding a clipboard.
“Oh no,” she says “not you two. You have equipment duty.” I groan.
“What?????” I am soooo annoyed.
To my surprise, Kelly just shrugs her shoulders and begins to circulate around the field picking up stray flags and junk.
I start to protest, but Donna, that bitch, she just turns on her heel and walks away.
“IDIOT!!!!!” I yell at her departing back.
So that is why we are the last two to hit the showers. It is why the locker room is empty when we arrive.
Alone in the shower, I let the frustrations of the day… of the week really, wash away the grit and the sweat. Reaching down, I rub my clitoris with one hand; it was inadvertent at first, but soon I get into it, letting the hot water spray my face and chest and thighs, while palming, grinding my clitoris. I feel its tiny swell blossom in my fingertips, feel my passions reignite. I gasp in time with the little spasms of pleasure my fingers elicit. Pinching my puffy nipples just the way I like. Drops of water catch in my lashes and along the ridge of my mouth. Get stuck between the twin hills of my breasts, are beaten down by the fingers that knead and caress. Just as I feel myself about to climax… just a little, I stop. I feel the beating in my breast slow down, I reach up, cup my nose with my hands and inhale. I smell the deep dusky scent of myself mingle with the perfumes of soap and shampoo, lilac and jasmine.
It is not until I am done drying my hair, reapplying my lip gloss, that I realize that Kelly and I are not alone in the locker room. Kelly, I realize, has known this for quite some time. When I round the corner to get my clothes, I see her. And her. And him. They are pretty hard to miss. I feel my nipples stiffen at the sight. Kelly. And Donna. They are leaning, side by side. Master Drake is facing them, his left hand is buried deep in Kelly’s cunt. His other hand is wrapped around Donna’s waist, his mouth buried in her tits. When Donna sees me, notices me standing hypnotized, the towel I had wrapped around my torso, long since fallen to the floor, she motions Kelly to follow her lead. Slowly, watching me the whole time, both girls drop to their knees on the hard tile floor. I see two pairs of lips part and two heads, one blonde, the other dark, bend toward Master Drake’s erection. Like clockwork, like twin pistons, they take him, first one and then the other. Donna holds Master Drake’s penis at the base and Kelly licks him up and down. Sucks him off, engorges herself on the fat of his cock. Kelly runs her hands up and down his shaft as Donna forces herself down on him as far as she can go… following Kelly’s rhythm, strands of saliva spooling from her mouth. They speak to each other… I can barely make out their words,
“Uhnh.” I hear Donna grunt. I hear the smack of suction as her lips wrap around his cock. I see the involuntary reflex of her jugular, the irregular rhythm as he pushes past her tongue and into her throat. I don’t think she can breathe.
“Tell me what you want, pet.” I hear him say between gritted teeth.
“Furda… furda…” I hear her moan…
“How do you ask, pet?”
“Pllleeaattthhhhh Mather Drake… pleatheee” I see the tears well in her eyes. See Kelly watching intently. Donna is reaching for her hand. She is like a clumsy drunk. But she grips Kelly’s hand and pulls her in so that her fingers are running along the rim of Master Drake’s ass. Kelly does not need any further guidance.
“Oooh Master Drake” she coos. “Do you like it like this? Does this feel good?” she purrs, inserting just one finger into the cusp of his ass hole. She begins to bring a second finger, closer… closer, but alert now, Donna shoves her finger away, withdrawing from Master Drake’s mouth.
“no” she says breathlessly, “not like that…” She beckons to me. Finally.
I feel like time has been standing still. I forgot all about me honestly. I walk up to the threesome. Master Drake does not address me at all. He wags his cock in front of my face and I bend down in Donna’s place.
“Just don’t pull back” she instructs me.
Master Drake places his hands firmly on each of my temples, and pushes his penis, still drenched in the honey of Donna’s saliva, into the hot recesses of my mouth. I tumble back on my knees from the force, but he lifts me back up. He is relentless. I am gagging almost immediately. Faces and figures begin to blur… I feel like I have to pull back, I am fighting him, but then he pushes the weight of his entire body, flush against his face. My nose is buried in the curls of his pubic hair.
“Is this what you wanted, bitch?” I hear him ask.
“Ask me for some more.”
My words are garbled, unintelligible. All I can do is nod, my head shaking up and down.
“I can’t hear you, pet” my nose is pushed flat against his body.
I am retching, my eyes bulge, my throat collapses upon itself.
“ehhffghh” is all I can mutter. All I can muster in response.
From behind him, Donna has shown Kelly how to enter his ass, with just one finger, how to caress its rim with the tip of the tongue. How to please him best. They are taking turns, lapping milk like kittens, probing and tonguing while I am pinned against his dick. And over and over again they are thanking him. Thanking him for his kindness, for his big cock and his hard sex. They run their hands along his torso and his back. They sigh his name, with breathless voices… they kiss his ass and cradle his sack against their lips.
“Say my name pet,” he says to me. A challenge.
“efffa ache.” I whisper. choke. gag.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” with a hand in my hair, a tug to my scalp.
“say it again. Pet.”
I am hurting, my throat is sore, my cheeks are stained with sweet saline tears.
“affa jake.”
He laughs at my effort.
Now he is pinching the brown puffs of my nipples. Bending down to see me wince in pain. I can hardly breathe at all. My hands scrape the linoleum, trying to keep from falling… falling… He is savage with me. I pray that he will cum…. I pray that he will like me... I pray that he will cum.
He does not.
When I have sated him though, he withdraws. He kisses Donna and Kelly on the tops of their heads. Me he ignores. Instead he whispers desires in Donna’s ears. Obediently she disappears and returns in mere minutes, carrying a large exercise mat which she spreads of the floor for her master’s comfort. With her head resting in Donna’s naked lap, I watch my friend Kelly bend down, reach back and spread the cheeks of her own ass. I watch Master Drake take her there, with the same energy he had taken me. Kelly’s long, taut body struggles with each thrust, she is gripping Donna’s knees with white knuckles. But she is in ecstasy. When Donna reaches her arm down and begins to massage Kelly’s clitoris, I am momentarily afraid that Kelly is going to combust.
I sit next to them, alone on the tiled floor, the acolyte. In a huddle, I touch myself, feel my dripping loins, rue that I have not yet been touched. Kelly’s breathing is faster now; she is looping her tongue, her teeth around Donna’s labia, touching her with extended fingers, returning each of Donna’s caresses. Master Drake is rubbing his hands hard through Kelly’s long hair, pushing her head against Donna’s, watching their tresses intermingle. He is telling Kelly to bite, bite harder. Kelly is trembling; Donna is wiggling, writhing under the grip of Kelly’s teeth. She is wailing, begging her to stop, begging her for more. She fondles her own nipples, groping her pale breasts. Master Drake withdraws from Kelly, proffering his sloppy sex to Donna who licks him greedily, thanking him between great, slurpy gulps. When he enters her again, I can feel his intensity. Kelly’s body is shaking. She is shouting curses into the air. They echo off the lockers… fill my ears with wonder. I am moaning myself. Gripping my clitoris until it is raw with desire. I cum when he cums, filling Kelly’s ass with his cream. It is then that he summons me again. Donna and me.
“For you.”
We lick his cum off of Kelly’s firm ass. Sucking it off her thighs… Donna is thanking him, kissing his slowly deflating cock.
“Thank you master, thank yooouuu.”
I am sitting on the floor, wiping cum of my cheeks. I have been humbled. But I am still hungry. As he gets up to leave, to return to his duties in front of the camp fire, to sing the songs, do the head counts, conduct the weekly staff meeting, he looks at me for the first time. Gesturing for me to bend over, he runs his finger over the round curve of my bottom, letting fingers linger on my own virgin hole.
“next time.” He says. “next time."
For Master Drake
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