Band Camping

Jen sympathized with my PT torment. She had, after all, endured several months of it, while healing from her complete meniscus tear. After each of my sessions, we found ways to sneak off to my dorm room or her apartment -- both locations provided us a semblance of privacy, seeing as my roommate was still largely AWOL, having made only one short appearance to grab some things and left as quickly as he had arrived.

Her apartment became our location of choice, largely to avoid any suspicious eyes that might recognize us and spread the rumors through the Bruce line. I wasn't sure exactly why we were hiding it from them, but I trusted her, and that was one thing she had requested, that we wait to speak to the Bruces about our budding and blossoming relationship. For the most part, it seemed none of the other Bruces suspected or noticed anything romantic between us.

Speaking of, we didn't exactly have a relationship, in the traditional sense. Every time I had asked her to become my girlfriend, she had changed the subject or told me to ask her again another day. If it weren't for the kisses and sensual knee massages we exchanged, I'd have wondered if we were anything more than friends or fellow trombone players after all.

Still, the kisses were deeper than any I'd ever experienced, more loving than those I felt from the girl I thought I had loved, more sensual than the ones I'd felt from my subsequent girlfriend, and more satisfying than any other experiences I had had with either of my two girlfriends. So I didn't complain. And Jess, whenever she had a moment with me, would encourage me to continue being patient, but usually said no more -- much different from how much she disclosed to me just before that first kiss.

I was only 18, after all. I imagined I could still wait -- I wasn't getting old and gray anytime soon. The fact that Jen was two years older than me never seemed to cross either of our minds.

As for the marching band, Jen was perfect. I was certain she would be, once she got her knee back to normal, but she was above those expectations, looking as if she had been there the whole time and had never missed a single practice or anything. I suppose she had been in the band for two years already, which afforded her the depth that only experience can give.

It was a special delight getting to see her march; she flowed across the field, despite having an obvious limp when she wasn't marching, and even being one of the shortest on the field, she held herself proud and tall.

**********

September came and went, just as quickly, it seemed, as that first week of school. Our team lost all three home games they'd played thus far, but, as usual, sitting in the stands with Jen was more than enough entertainment to make it through each time. That wasn't even considering how much fun it was to be around the Bruces and the rest of the band. Plus, whenever Jess would come be an honorary Bruce, we'd all get to witness the humorous spectacle of the twins' exchanges. Jen and I had even come up with an amusing song parody we taught to the rest of the Bruces first, then to the entire band.

It parodied "God Bless the USA" by Lee Greenwood, often mistakenly called "Proud to be an American." Our mascot was a Ram, our primary school color was green, we had a tradition about shaking keys during kickoffs, and one of the best coaches we had was named Buddy Ruddick, to explain each reference. It went like this:

I'm proud to be a Ram Fan, where at least I know I'm green,

And I won't forget the Rams who tried to win one game for me.

So everybody stand up -- Shake Your Keys,

And remember Ruddick's plays.

'Cause there ain't no doubt we'll lose this game,

God help the Rams today.

It became our anthem whenever we faced the all-too-frequent, horribly lopsided defeat, where we'd usually fall behind by three or more touchdowns. Fans around us even caught on and would start to sing it.

Once October was upon us, the Bruce line had a special announcement: the annual Bruce camping trip would be happening in just a few weeks. Only Bruces were allowed to come, or in Jess's special case, the twin sibling of a Bruce who happened to be the girlfriend of another Bruce. The upperclassmen were providing the food and most of the supplies; we only needed to bring a sleeping bag and our personal items.

Jen and I were talking about it one Friday evening after one of my few remaining physical therapy sessions. We were at her apartment, in her room, where I was on her bed while she helped ease the discomfort I was feeling in my knee. We were talking about the upcoming trip, scheduled for the following weekend.

There was a little concern that hiking in the mountains was going to be a bit too grueling on my knee, but I wasn't about to miss this trip over a little knee pain. Jen agreed, as she had been working on my knee, too, with some beneficial stretches, and giving me some amazing massages to help ease the pain. It turned out she was studying sports medicine to be an athletic trainer, but she was also going to be able to do physical therapy, so it was like hands-on experience for her.

"Gas was suggesting that the trip itself isn't too much, just the planned hikes," Jen explained, as she dug into the muscles surrounding my knee. I winced, but held still for her.

"Yeah, but aren't they, like, one of the main parts of the experience?" I'd been told stories by other Bruces, about "Bruce Rock" and the lake surrounding it -- a mere half-day hike away from the chosen campsite, not to mention the lookout above some cliffs, which offered a near bird's-eye view of the lake and the massive rock formation jutting into it that sort of resembled a trombone.

"Well, in a way, but..." she paused on my leg, moving closer to my head and leaning down, "I also have a knee issue, and I could stay back, so as to not let you get too lonely." She leaned down and kissed me, the same passionate, full-lipped kiss I had come to crave and look forward to every time I was alone with her.

"Well, you do propose some pretty interesting counter-arguments," I grinned, pulling her down for another kiss, "but wouldn't you agree it would be nice to see those sights with each other?"

"You are such a hopeless romantic!" She playfully swatted my hand away from her back and moved back to my knee. "Not that I'm complaining about it..."

"You bring out the best in me."

"...and the worst, you beast," she smiled wickedly at me, staring at the bulge in my pants.

It had been a frequent topic, when we got into kissing or massaging -- I would get pretty prominent erections. She was amazed to cause that in me, especially considering that we remained fully clothed. I had to wonder why she was so surprised by my reaction to her... I mean, hadn't she been engaged to a guy? I always assumed they'd done quite a few things together, considering an earlier conversation where Jen had observed that sex seemed to make people grow up. I never dared to ask her about her past experiences, though. It didn't seem right to bring it up. I mean, I had already deduced from her description of her past, that she'd only ever been with Zack. What was I going to say -- "Hey Jen, did you ever fuck that fiancé of yours before he died?" Yeah, that's classy.

"How is it you get so hard from kisses and knee massages?" Jen asked, shaking me from my thoughts. She'd asked the question more times than I could count, and I'd always answered it in much the same way.

"Physical beauty only brings out the horniness, in my belief, whereas attraction brings out the arousal, which is much more, uh, firm, so to speak." She'd always smile at my explanations, today being no different. "Your kisses are... indescribable, incomparable, and immensely satisfying -- they reach a deeper part of me that is quite firmly attracted to you, especially your personality and qualities, you know, just who you are. It's a part of me that lo..." I paused, aware that I had almost dropped the love-bomb on her. I quickly tried to change tracks, hoping she didn't catch on to my blunder. "...looks forward to seeing you, and eagerly awaits the next time we get to be together." Whew, I hoped that worked.

"Dan, you should write romance novels for those lonely housewives, and you could make a fortune as you make their hearts flutter with your words -- I know you do mine." She fanned her face dramatically, exaggerating her last words quite a bit. I had to grin at her, but I suspected there was a kernel of truth there.

"Well, Jen, you've made my heart flutter since I first saw you and you called me out on checking out your breasts." Okay, it seemed she didn't sense (or ignored) my near-love-blunder. I'd tell her soon... I just wasn't sure how to go about it -- for the perfect timing and setting.

"Oh, right, that," she laughed. "Being short, it's sometimes hard to know when a tall guy is just looking down at you or trying to see down your shirt."

"I can't imagine what that would feel like, being ogled like that."

"It feels rather degrading. Like they only want to use you."

"Ugh. That would be sucky." I shuddered at the thought, imagining a world where women stared at men's crotches, assessing the size of their bulge and judging their attractiveness based on how it looked in their clothing. What would it feel like if a woman only wanted to look at you and get off, or use you, even if you weren't attracted to her at all?

"Quit imagining it, it makes your face look all stupid." Again, her directness made me laugh.

"I really like that part of you."

"What -- that I say your face sometimes looks all stupid?"

"No, your directness, your 'say it how it is and to hell with what anyone thinks' attitude and words." One of our earlier conversations came to mind. "Like when you said, 'So you fucked.' That surprised me but, whenever I think of it, it makes me laugh."

"Right. Well, anyway, about the camping trip..." There it was -- she was changing subjects again. "...I have an extra sleeping bag, if you need one."

"Oh, right, I had been meaning to go out and buy one. But thanks, I appreciate your offer." There was something in her face I could see, something more she wasn't quite telling me, but it seemed it wasn't too important, at least at the moment. It vanished once I accepted her offer.

"Alright, I'll make sure to pack it, then." She gave a small smile as she finished rubbing my knee, and made a gesture for me to get up. "Okay, my turn."

She had taught me how to massage and manipulate the knee joint, in order to facilitate increased blood flow, healing, and comfort. It was fascinating, plus it was always a pleasure to be able to massage her legs. Sometimes I'd try moving my massage higher up her legs, but she'd always swat my hands when I tried, telling me to wait.

"Ah... you are quite a natural, Dan," she moaned, clearly enjoying my ministrations to her knee. I'd often offer to show her how my hands could probably cause magic elsewhere. She'd refuse, again, asking me to wait. Tonight, I thought I'd ask her something different.

"Jen, you've looked pretty tense lately. Would you like a back massage?" I fully expected her to reject the offer, or tell me to wait, but she shocked me tonight.

"You know... that does sound nice -- and with your magic fingers... hmmmm..." Jen flipped around on her bed, lying face down as a result. "Do your magic."

"Your wish is my command, m'lady," I said in an over-the-top courtly voice. I began by tracing small circles with my fingertips, in between her shoulder blades and spine, an area she had told me was frequently tight on most people. She was no exception. As I started to rub with more pressure, the muscles, rigid and tense, resisted my touch.

"Ahhrggggh..." Jen groaned, or moaned, or something... It was some kind of mix of sounds that made me begin to get hard again. I tried my best to ignore it, focusing on helping her out the best I could. I listened to her requests to go over a little, or right there, or up a little, and tried to pay attention to the way she seemed to respond to each area I massaged.

After what felt like fifteen minutes, I felt her muscles yield to the pressure I was applying. "How's that feel?" I asked.

"Hmmm... amazing and magical." Jen let out a long sigh. "Dan... if I do something, would you be able to... I mean..." She seemed to be struggling with the words. She sat up, and turned to face me.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I was just thinking..." She looked away for a moment, clearly contemplating something. "Well, I was thinking that it would... I think it would feel great on my bare skin." My eyes widened a little and she smirked at my face. "Don't get any ideas..."

"I'll be a good little boy, I promise -- scout's honor." My words made her giggle and shake her head.

"Good, because you know I can kick your ass if you aren't."

I didn't doubt her.

"Want me to turn awa-- okay," I was again taken aback as she pulled her shirt up over her head, to reveal her smooth, creamy skin and the pale green bra covering her breasts. I wasn't sure if I should avert my eyes to be a gentleman, or if, by putting her chest on display, she was giving me some kind of silent permission to look. I remembered her words about ogling, and kept my glances to what I felt was a respectful minimum.

"...well, what do you think?" Jen actually sounded nervous. She had nothing whatsoever to be worried about, looking as she did so... irresistible and amazing.

"I think I have just witnessed the boast meautiful thing... uh, I mean... the most beautiful thing, ever, that I have ever seen, like, ever. Ever." I fumbled over my words, but it seemed to put her at ease, making her giggle.

"God, you are a dork." She leaned over and pecked my lips. "But... you're my dork, right?"

Wow... did that mean... she wanted to date me? No, I wasn't going to read into it just yet, I was going to be patient, like Jess had suggested. If Jess was honest, then Jen hadn't gone this far with anyone since her fiancé.

"All yours," I reassured her. I gave her the most sincere smile I could manage.

"Thanks, Dan." Jen spun away from me and, in an incredibly smooth and fluid motion, unhooked her bra, caught it in her hands, dropped it off the side of her bed, and stretched out flat on the bed. Her bare back was fully exposed to me, and I was nearly drooling at how incredible her back looked -- all her trombone playing had chiseled some gorgeous definition into her shoulder blades. The curve of her lower back, the slope of her sides and the slight bulging of her breasts, looking as if they were playing hide-and-seek from my wandering eyes were just downright...

"You going to stare all night, or return to that back rub?"

"Oh... uh... right, sorry," I chuckled, shaking my head. I stared at her back again, not sure where to begin.

"I have some massage oil in my dresser, top drawer, left side," she said. I got up and found it exactly where she described... next to her underwear and some sports bras. "Focus, pervert."

I laughed. "Sorry." I grabbed the small bottle, and closed her drawer of undergarments (completely unaware of the future fact, yet inwardly hoping upon all hope, that I'd get to see them again... many times).

"Just a few drops, rub it between your hands to warm it up."

"Okay." I did as she directed, feeling a light tingling sensation in my palms. I pressed my palms into her now-bare shoulder blades, working my hands in that same circular motion. Jen let out a sigh that added the finishing touches to my prominent erection. I don't think I'd ever been this hard in my life. I felt a little awkward, what with my shorts pulled tight by my erection, standing next to her bed, the bulge just a few inches away from her. I was quite aware of her naked back underneath my hands. My mind seemed to be conjuring up image after splendid image of lewd and quite sexual acts between Jen and me.

"Good God, Dan, you look like you're about to burst in your pants." Jen's frankness brought me back to the present moment, away from the envisioned fantasy of doggy-style sex I had been imagining. It also brought quite a furious blush to my face. "Ah, you naughty boy..." She had turned her head outward, toward me, obviously noticing my condition. Her wicked-looking grin suggested that she seemed to know exactly what I had been thinking about.

"I, uh, was just, um... yeah, sorry." I gave up trying to defend myself. "I mean, you, your back, just... wow."

She giggled. "Just you wait, Dan."

"Huh?" Oh, she must be telling me to wait again... I mean, she did just say to wait...

"Try this: use your thumbs to start from my lower back, one on either side of my spine, and press up toward my neck."

I followed her instructions. "Like this?"

"Hmmmmmm."

"I take that as a 'yes,' then?"

"Now, gently pinch my traps, squeeze them between your fingers, and use your thumbs to press upward toward my neck, while holding my muscles in your hands." She sighed as I followed her directions, another indescribably wonderful sound coming from her.

I was intoxicated by the moment, completely drunk on her sounds, the visuals of her nude back, her tight shorts covering her butt...

"Hey, don't stop," Jen reminded me. "Here, climb on the bed, you'll get better leverage and it'll feel better."

I did as she said, climbing up onto her bed, but... where exactly? Did she mean that I just... straddle her? What about...

"Yeah, it's okay, I won't break." She reached her hands back and down to pat near her thighs. Did she realize that, if I sat down like this, my crotch would press directly down on her butt?

"Okay," my voice cracked. Ugh, I thought I sounded more like a nervous teenager than... well, I guess I was a nervous teenager, technically, being 18 and all. I tried my best to focus, returning my hands to her back, resuming the massage.

"Yessss," she whispered, as my oiled hands continued to knead her muscles.

And then something unexpected (not expected by me, at least) and delightful happened: her butt arched upward at about the same time I was leaning forward. The result: my rigid penis now rested between the softness of her butt cheeks. My every action halted, including my breathing, as that single sensation seemed to engulf, overwhelm, and override everything else. I had a single realization that this moment was made exponentially better by the simple fact that we were both wearing soft mesh shorts.

"Ohhhh" escaped from my mouth, sounding more like a gargled, unintelligible, and guttural growl. Jen surprised me again, by moving her butt, ever so slightly, and causing my erection to slide gently along her crack. My breathing picked up pace.

"Told you... better leverage, and... ahhh... feel better," Jen said between what sounded like moans or gasps, or something good. Her hips had started moving more quickly, more insistently. It seemed she was enjoying this too. But, at this rate, if she kept it up... I had to warn her.

"Ohhh... Jen... I... um... ahhh..." I tried to speak, but words seemed to fail me. Her speed had increased from a gentle rocking back and forth to a more insistent and relentless motion, as she pressed harder into my erection.

"Good... hmmm... Dan... feel good... let go..." Jen was nearly panting.

We were dry humping. I was dry humping this girl I had fallen in love with (there, I said it -- to myself at least...) and I was going to cum from it, quicker than I ever had from just jacking off.

My mind quickly conjured up the image of her smooth, bare back in front of me, with my cock buried deep inside her. That thought, the sounds and words of encouragement from her, the slow and subtle "tease" I'd felt all evening -- it all had me close to the edge of orgasm, something I had not expected could happen like this.