At Camp Red Stripe

By Lawrence Kinden All Rights Reserved Β©

Fantasy / Other

The First Three

There were three of them-no longer little girls, but not yet women.

The first was short with snowy skin and raven hair left unbound, falling down her back to her waist. She wore a light summer dress the shade of orange sherbet. The dress had neither sleeves nor straps and ended well above her knees. It flounced when she moved, hinting but not showing. She wore a silver anklet with tiny bells. She was smooth and soft and careless in her grace.

The second was tall and toned. Her dark skin and black, curly hair juxtaposed with startling emerald eyes. Her white tee shirt hugged her slim curves and let peek the mint green brassiere beneath. She wore tight pink leggings like a second skin and white ankle socks under weathered sneakers. Her fingernails were painted shiny green. She was sprightly and springy and filled with vim.

The third was blond and suntanned and curvy. Her bosoms strained at the tattered crop-top; her hips bulged in the grass-stained cut-offs. Her wavy hair was pulled back into an offhand ponytail. Her cheeks and arms and legs were sprinkled with freckles. Her fingernails were dirty and her feet bare. She was cocksure and bright-eyed and fearless.

Camp Red Stripe was nestled on the side of a mountain, deep in a forest, on the shore of a lake. For six weeks in the summer, it was home to all manner of girls from nine to nineteen: tall and short, slim and broad, dark and pale. And these three girls knew well from where came the name of the camp.

Wiping away tears and rubbing at their bums, they hurried to the privacy of their cabin.

The first girl hiked up the skirt of her dress and pulled down her panties- white but smudged with the sweat and dirt of summer camp. She held the skirt high and looked over her shoulder in the mirror they shared to see the bright red weals on her snow-white skin. The second girl pealed her pink leggings down her thighs and joined her friend at the mirror, her dark skin striped white by the switch. The third girl struggled out of her shorts, her bright blue panties going with them and examined her own red stripes with a fierce pride.

They cried and commiserated, teased and poked, laughed and celebrated.

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