For parents, sending a teen to summer camp must be a deal with the devil: You get a break from caring for your angsty kid, but in exchange, you live with the knowledge that little Madison might suck a dick this summer. Communal sleeping, shared showers, and minimal supervision — often at the hands of slightly older and even hornier youths — add up to a pressure cooker of hormones, humiliation, awkward fumbling, and memorable discoveries. Lauren was the alpha girl of my cabin. She was cool and tough and came from New York and had a Beastie Boys cassette. When she stole my pink training bra, I was kind of honored.
Not Enabled. Forum General Fiction Poetry. Sometimes it's hard to find a really good story in an age range Coeds stories for oneself and no matter how much you and I may like the high school stories, sometimes the Coedds old range is better fit. The rest came out crouching over to hide their privates. She CCoeds woken up, realized I was gone, and freaked out. Coeds stories looked at them. She was in my Spanish class freshman year and lived on the floor above me. She told me that she was really into decorating, and I was so excited to decorate our rooms together, but after about a week into school, I realized that I had the roommate from hell. Not only did I lose my favorite Coesd to the wreckage, but this person moved on to the shower stalls.
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I began to pick up the pace, sliding more and more in my mouth, then just working on the tip, then suddenly plunging down again. On to the showers. Submit bug report. Category filter. After just a few minutes I worked my way up to a stunning orgasm. Title your feedback:. Then he got behind her and started fucking her again from behind. I wanted Susan to go because one of the fantasies I Coeds stories is to have some guy see her naked. I had done my internet research! Then he said, "This isn't fair you know, you're getting a good look at me but I can't see much of you, why Coeds stories you turn around?
College always promises experiences to remember but sometimes these memories aren't quite what we were hoping for.
- As she was walking towards her room, she saw Matt, a fellow student heading to the showers.
- This is the first in what I plan to be a series of journal entries about my time at college.
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- It took me months to talk her into it, going to a nude beach.
Browse Fiction Poetry. Community General Fiction Poetry. Forum General Fiction Poetry. Story Story Writer Forum Community. College Coeds -College Romance Stories. Focus: General All Categories, Since: Founder: kalicokitty15 - Stories: 12 - Followers: 1 - id: Sometimes it's hard to find a really good story in an age range appropriate for oneself and no matter how much you and I may like the high school stories, sometimes the yr old range is better fit.
So join, contribute, and read about college co-eds! Daddy's Little Girl by konstellation reviews Hayden Palmer has no room in her life for more complications.
So why on earth was she letting attractive, dizzy-eyed Adam Morrison take her breath away? Confessions of a Former Chew Toy by woodstock reviews When I found out that Tully, my estranged childhood best friend, was rooming with my ex, the overly opinionated, rich tool, I knew that things were bound to get weird. I can't stand awkward situations, and my freshman year of college just became one. But then they found out that one hand washing the other benefited them both.
And just like that, things began to change. Her parents want to control her. She finally takes control. Only to find her life out of her hands once again Just ask her brother. She can melt the heart of her father or make the meddling media adore her. She can't refuse a challenge. Terms of Service. Focus: General All Categories, Since: Founder: kalicokitty15 - Stories: 12 - Followers: 1 - id: Sometimes it's hard to find a really good story in an age range appropriate for oneself and no matter how much you and I may like the high school stories, sometimes the yr old range is better fit.
Nympho Coed Cum Feeding Hobby of pussy soaking cocks and lick ass cum eating. I licked my way up the shaft to his head, circling it while I stroked. I began to pick up the pace, sliding more and more in my mouth, then just working on the tip, then suddenly plunging down again. The couch was just barely big enough for two, which was just fine with me. Just how I like guys. Leaving that it, she began to wash her body. Username: Password: Forgot your password?
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For parents, sending a teen to summer camp must be a deal with the devil: You get a break from caring for your angsty kid, but in exchange, you live with the knowledge that little Madison might suck a dick this summer.
Communal sleeping, shared showers, and minimal supervision — often at the hands of slightly older and even hornier youths — add up to a pressure cooker of hormones, humiliation, awkward fumbling, and memorable discoveries.
Lauren was the alpha girl of my cabin. She was cool and tough and came from New York and had a Beastie Boys cassette. When she stole my pink training bra, I was kind of honored.
If Lauren Petersen felt tickles on horses, then feeling tickles on horses was cool. Soon everyone was feeling tickles, or trying to feel them, or faking them. It was like the Salem Witch Trials. I will never say whether my horsegasms were fake. I was kicked out of the horsegasm clique after fighting Lauren for my bra. On laundry day, I snatched it back, then dramatically wrote my name on it in black permanent marker, ruining the bra for both of us.
After that I had to be friends with a girl with a bowl cut who kept apologizing for having the same last name as me. She said it meant her family used to enslave mine. White guilt starts so young. Camp Spirit or Furry Fetish? All camp hookups, in my experience, were a little predator-prey. I was 15 when a year-old counselor convinced me it would be hilarious if we stole full-body squirrel costumes from the drama supply closet the squirrel was our camp mascot and snuck through the woods to terrorize kids who were camping in tents that night.
So we put on the costumes and hiked to the campsite — and ended up making out on a picnic table in full-body fur suits, squirrel heads perched beside us. When I was 13, my counselor got me and another camper to shave her vag before she met up with her boyfriend. We did it outside on the porch, her lying down and us on either side of her, giggling.
She was 16 and told us all her sex stories. She once dared several girls in my bunk to put Gold Bond on our vaginas. I think the counselor got a perverse kick out if it, even though she is straight. She is now a wedding planner.
When I had my first kiss at camp, it was with a boy. And she was so beautiful. I still remember it. Dark hair down to her waist, little khaki shorts. Being interested in girls had never been an option. I essentially spent the next few weeks there looking at her legs. From that point on, I paid attention to girls. I looked at them. Andie MacDowell, with a southern accent and a full-length nighty.
I was so into that. The Girl Who Discovered Orgasms I had my first orgasm at Jewish summer camp, the result of dry-humping against a cabin. A few years later I lost my virginity at a summer camp on a kibbutz. I had sex five times that night, including in the shower, and came every time! Talk about getting off to a good blessed? Naked Boy, Uproarious Laughter In , I was 11 years old — too young to be interested in seeing what a naked girl looked like, but old enough to be terrified of being seen naked by one myself.
I was afraid to participate, but even more afraid that declining would harm my already-tenuous social standing. So it was agreed: The boys would head off into the trees to the right of the campsite, strip, and jump into the river, where the girls would meet us. A couple boys proudly marched out of the river. The rest came out crouching over to hide their privates. I stayed behind out of a combination of fear and the wan hope that if I waited long enough, everybody would get bored and leave.
This did not happen. And so, getting colder and colder, I slowly trudged out, crouching and covering, everybody else now clothed and staring at me. Somebody asked me what time it was. The request somehow triggered an automatic reflect, and I was momentarily transported out of the moment.
I stood straight up, looked at my watch, and answered. And then I looked down at my cold, wet, exposed prepubescent boyhood, and everybody — boys and girls alike — was laughing uproariously at me. I have never worn a timepiece since, and, honest, it just occurred to me as I recalled this story that this might be the reason why. I was the only girl on the trip, aside from the counselor with whom I shared a tent but no rapport.
We rode 60 miles a day. Somewhere around the border of Canada, we camped on a beach. I waited until the counselor fell asleep, then snuck out of our tent and walked toward the party. It was a big bonfire, loads of booze, local teens. I met a very cute, blond year-old and told him I was I was He took me into the woods, and, chalk it up to boredom or my first taste of anonymous hooking up, but I decided that I would give this stranger my first ever blow job.
I just went for it. When I returned to my tent, the counselor was frantic. She had woken up, realized I was gone, and freaked out. I was promptly kicked off the bike tour, sent alone by Greyhound bus back to Port Authority for my parents to retrieve me.
I never told a living soul what I did with that boy. It was the beginning of many years as a teen hussy. My XXL purple T-shirt was four sizes too large. I freaked and ran to the closest building with my arms crossed over me. I opened the first door I saw and plunged in, thinking it would be empty. Inside was my father. He was giving a presentation to a handful of national and regional church leaders who were visiting our camp.
Freaking out again, I ran behind the whiteboard of his presentation. The church elders awkwardly shuffled out, and then my father came back and kindly handed over his sports jacket. To this day, we have never talked about it. He was the love of my life.
She had somehow managed to track him down and blow him before breakfast. I ran to the bathroom and sobbed. A few days later, I found a new boy to kiss and forgot all about the first one. Caught in Headlights At a church camp when I was 16, I became a secret item with a boy. The boy would sneak away from activities to hang out with me.
On the night he was leaving, I snuck out to his cabin to say good-bye. What we did not know was that his dad had already arrived to pick him up. The staff, including my mom, were looking for us everywhere. We were caught literally in headlights when my mom and another staffer drove up in a golf cart, shouting.
The boy, being quite the gentleman, sprinted away and left me to be interrogated alone. Already a subscriber? Log in or link your magazine subscription.
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