Rite of Passage

The camp was obligatory. Those of us who were senior guide leaders had tents to ourselves, but that only made me lonely. I could hear the giggling coming from the tents of the other girls, and, as the night wore on, the giggling subsided. Occasionally, a moan or a sigh would drift through the sultry air. I wondered, of course, what had provoked those sighs. The night was hot, so hot that I lay on top of my sleeping bag dressed only in a long T shirt and panties. For a long time, I lay there just listening. My senses were so aroused to the night that it seemed I caught every sound. From the next tent, I heard breathing. Breathing that was getting faster and more urgent and I knew that Anna was masturbating. Strangely, I had no mental image of how she might be pleasuring herself. It was the sound of her arousal that pierced me to the core. Just as I was about to slip my hands between my own legs, I heard her climax and the moment was lost. Frustrated, now, I rose from my sleeping bag and opened my tent. The toilet block was on the other side of the campsite and as I walked towards it, I had the most delicious fantasy. HE was out there, in the darkness watching me. As the gentle summer zephyrs stirred the bushes, I knew HE was following me. I became scared. I crossed my arm over my breasts and quickened my pace. HE was close now, and before I reached the sanctuary of the toilet block, my mind provided the whispered command. "Come with me, bitch." I veered off into the woods that surrounded us. HE pinned me against a tree and I felt his coarse hands on my tender young body. HE tugged my t shirt over my head and left my pubescent breasts exposed. I felt the roughness of the bark against my back and felt the tree scratch me. HE forced my legs apart and I felt my panties cling tightly to me. The fear lanced through me like a knife, and I felt my bladder empty into the cotton. Now, a wantonness flooded me as surely as the pee flooded my panties. I reached up a hand to grab a branch. HE tugged the panties from me and flung them away into the darkness. Then I felt HIS fingers penetrate me and there, under the silvery kiss of the moonlight, he brought me to a crashing orgasm. Was it my imagination or my desire that substituted my imaginary attackers penis for his fingers? Was it lust that, at the very moment of my climax added the sweet sensation of HIM shooting his load against my convulsing cervix? Did I really press myself to him and whisper obscenities into the night to urge him to fill me with his seed? Some time later, I walked from the forest back to my tent. I lay there soaked with sweat and there, in the safety of my tent, dipped my fingers into myself again. No more for me the nebulous fantasy of a man kissing me, touching me. Now I needed the coarseness and vulgarity of primal urgent sex. I thought again of Anna. She would probably have been thinking about her first kiss, or the fleeting touch on her breast. The very things, until tonight, I used to think about. Now, my mind had matured and granted me the fullness of erotic fantasy. I had stood in a forest naked. I had allowed myself to pee in my panties. I had brought myself to orgasm thinking about being raped. And it was glorious.