Summer Camp

I did find a slight enjoyment in creating a neat row of young rice plants. There was something neat about wiggling a finger into the soil to make a hole for the plant and to take measurement for a straight line. Seeing something physically created was something that I didn't get to enjoy at work. One of the staffers pointed out to the whole crowd that I had planted enough rice to feed a family for a year. I couldn't help but let out a little proud smile.

For a moment, I looked up. The sun was glaring. The sun was straight up. There wasn't a single tree or canopy. The water around me feet was nice and refreshing but my torso and especially my head was scorching. The bending made my back hurt. I did notice the purpose of the white clothing. Miranda's butt had gotten wet. The pants stuck to her butt. The fabric had become completely see-through. She had cute little bun with tight curves and no fat wobble at all. The fabric was a bit bunched up in between, so that it became too opaque to reveal her sex. I saw a brown areola through a splashed on top. Whenever I get stressed, sex is my escape valve. I got a little horny.

I looked up at the lead staffer, she was yelling at us through megaphone. The megaphone distorted her voice into squeal of anger. She actually berated us: "A normal rice farmer works three times faster than you lazy bums. Pick it up, you sloths! You rich pigs just want to lounge around and be attended to everything. Not now! Now is your time to earn your keep and show some real empathy and feeling for what the other 99% go through every painful and exhausting day. I see you smirking! Put that energy into better work!"

Nobody complained. It was some kind of tough love to inspire us to become better. When a woman ordered a Mai Tai, the megaphone boss yelled at her to get working. If she were thirsty, she was standing in plenty of water. The mood in the planting pool got tense. Most people being hard workers at the top of a corporation were accustomed to taking shit and working bitterly hard. It came natural. Any average person in the street, especially the union types for minimum wage workers, would have balked. Us lawyers, accountants, and financial controllers simply know how to shut up, take shit, and work ourselves to death.

You can tell that I was feeling grumpy. The heat was getting to my head. I did take a moment to wipe some wet hair out of my sweat covered face to look up. I saw that a new photographer walked onto the moat. I guess even the photographer got tired of this. No, the photographer stayed. They were both shooting. Then two more photographers came. In short order, there was a small army of ten photographers distributed around the pool high up on the moats.

I felt a little bit terrorized. If we were in Vietnam, this had the feeling of a firing squad. We were the fish in a barrel. Why would they have so many photographers come when there wasn't a candid moment to be had? Stop! Obviously something was about to go down soon. I saw one of the waitresses walk up on the moat, bend down, and take a clump of dirt. She threw it into the water to make a big splash! The arc of the water going face high was perfect.

The woman that got splashed turned around and yelled, "What the fuck!" with an explosion of anger. I guess we all had pent up anger and frustration. The woman that was yelled at turned around and gave an angry face back for being accosted, completely unaware of the splash.

"Fuck you, you cunt," hissed the innocent woman. There had been seeming tension between the women.

The first woman half turned to torque up tension and hurl water straight into the face of the innocent woman. The innocent woman's mouth gaped wide open. Her front was completely wet. Her bobos might as well have been hanging out because the fabric was so wet and see-through. She had beautiful teardrop shape breast implant. They were an astonishing work of a top cosmetic surgeon. Her long, black hair hung down her face in wet rivulets of water running down her face.

I recognized my chance. Miranda was standing there with slopped shoulders and soft in the knees, her face completely facing the scene unfolding. I took a running start. The water splashed wide from my shins. I strained to pull my feet high above the knee deep water surface to escape the water drag. Five feet away from Miranda, I planted both of my feet into the muddy ground and propelled myself forward as hard as I could.

A fast flight through the air, my chest hit Miranda in the back. My arms grabbed her hard. Her head whiplashed back. Her body stretched out perfectly and then bent like a bow as my force was bending her back. I couldn't see but probably a giant "Oh!" face slammed into the turbid, brown water face to disappear into the darkness of the underwater world.

The satisfaction of having gotten her was delicious. I reveled in it a little too long. Her body was quite slender. Being loose and weightless in the water, she slipped out of my bear hug. I tried to reach for her legs, but she got standing and sturdy. A sharp tug on my hair pulled my head above the surface. I flailed with my hands after her wrist and my feet were slipping around in the mud. Her pull forward on my hair was too strong. I couldn't steady myself. Like a helpless animal, I was dragged through the rice paddy.

With my head facing down, I couldn't see her. Yet I caught glimpses of the scene unfolding around me. Another woman had grabbed a guest by her top. The top ripped right off. The staff must have carefully pre-perforated the clothing with a razorblade. Supple, natural, double D breasts sprang into bare view. I could tell that they were natural because natural fat has such a shape and feel of something humongous trying to burst free in a loose sack, so that it spills every which way.

Somewhere in between, my head took a dunk. When the water sloshed off my face again and I took a reverse yelping inhale, I saw that staffers had taken up positions on top of the moat with a wide, powerful stance. They pinned fire department grade hoses under their elbows and held the nozzle with both hands to shoot giant arcs of water into the field. We had a full on rice paddy brawl going on with water splashing every which way. The photographers were going to have a field day capturing all the water freeze framed with gushing expressions tugged in between veils of water spray and an overly thematic background with the rice paddies.

I had kind of given up on the struggle and was rather being pulled like a lifeless fish through the water and mud. Miranda paused and then her lips festooned on me. Feeling feminine lips on my set an instinctive impulse in my head in motion. They felt so delicious. I felt drawn to them. I kissed them back. My feverish reptile mind that had been unleashed by all of the primitive action grabbed for her butt. Oh, it was delicious. It was a small, yet very toned, and curved package. I explored the inside of the butt cheeks.

"I knew you were a bootie lover," she called into my ear with passion. I had never known that I gave that away so obviously.

My body thrust itself onto hers to feel that wet, slippery, and smooth skin, belly, and boob of her on mine. Without hesitation, her right hand fingers found their way to my sex. She first felt her way to orient herself along my labia and then started rubbing. Oh, it was so delicious. Since the bus ride, I had been wanting to get there, yet was too afraid and unsure on how to get from a polite introduction to this. Yet now that I had it, I could simply indulge. It was like back in the teenage days, when everything was so easy. I like you. I like you, too. Boom, lint licking.

An unusual group of staffers ran over the moat. They were wearing red life guard uniforms interpreted as super sexy thong and bikini outfits. They had a black armband on the right arm. They were referees. Some of the fighting in the rice paddy was pretty fierce. They were probably patrolling it.

I had to taste her pussy juices. I had to taste what she looked like. Every woman is like a unique cocktail. There is a special aroma and flavors to the aroma, which I had never tasted before. Because we were all tested, I could feel safe to indulge and blend juices with her. I had her lift up her hips and recline back holding herself up on her outstretched arms. Her pussy was just above the water. Water was running down my face. I swiped away some of the mud water and then indulged in that perfectly shaved, smooth beaver. With gusto, I wiggled my tongue into her crevice as deep as I could to get to the true juices. I felt like a hummingbird teasing a drops of nectar out of a plant.

I wiggled my head side to side. She really went off on that motion moaning. I went berserk, smashing my whole mouth, lips, cheek, and chin onto her pussy and rubbing it side by side, coating my whole face into the white, thick gel that she was excreting. I could smell her pussy, that pungent smell so clearly up my nose.

A staffer interrupted me to hold a tray in front of me. The silver platter offered me a variety of lubes, dildos, vibrators, and sex paraphernalia. I grabbed a medium shit sized butt plug. Her medical tattoo had a brown triangle in it. I knew that she was going to love it. Rather than putting lube on it, I moved it around my mouth to coat it with my spit. I wanted my spit to be in her dark hole. I jammed it up into the puckered hole. It went in smoothly. Her muscles were trained to relax.

She got up from her back-leaning position to take a look at the tray. Without hesitation, she grabbed a black leather harness and white dildo with a pronounced bulbous head. With one smooth movement, she strapped the harness over and around her butt. The white dong hung low in front of her pubic bone. With both hands, she ripped my pants apart. She pulled me onto the side of the moat on the dry ground on my back. Then she slipped it in and pummeled me. Unlike a new lesbian, she had learned a good rhythm. Such a thing is instinctive for guys. Yet women have to learn how to thrust their hips - a little drop at the start, a little acceleration just at the right time, and then that bull headed focus on hitting just the right spot.

In between closing my eyes overcome of all that arousal and yummy feeling, I looked over the rice paddy. The fight scene had turned into a sex scene. This was so much better than sitting in my bathtub with a glass of wine to watch porn. This was real life full-on action by real life frustrated women, not actresses. I soaked up glimpses of pussies, passionate boob nuzzling, and vigorous finger penetration - double and triple finger penetration.

An orgasm started rolling in me. I reclined back into the soft earth. My fingers gripped green rice stalks to squash them. My gaze disappeared into the blue sky. The soft warm summer Tennessee air and fresh water gave my skin a sensual sensation. Miranda was towering over me with a mischievous grin for having figured out how to push my big O button. Life was really wonderful. A tension that I had held ever since getting on the plane was melting to simply being present at the moment to examine those bubbles of pleasure moving throughout my body. I let a little sigh out and it felt like the whole city of LA and my stressful work life floated out into the air and was carried away by the summer breeze.

"All that lawyer tension!" Miranda solaced me. "Nancy spoke a lot about you. She has a little crush on you. To me, you are a sex toy. To her, it's amore. That's why she is so shy around you." Miranda slipped to my side and snuggled her body on top of mine. Her thigh slithered in between mine. Her boobs rested on top of mine. I was cuddling with a naked woman and dreaming about another.

We lay there, feeling the occasional gust in the air touching down on our naked skin. We listened to the soft and capricious moans of last rolling to us. We smelled the earth, the water, the skin, and sex scents. We intoned the breathing of each other - that rising and lowering of the ribcage, gently side-by-side, the skin moving against each other. We dreamt looking at the canvas of the light blue universe projecting our own dreams and fantasies on it.

The ding of a musical triangle roused us to prop ourselves up on our elbows. The head staffer tried to get us to move to the bottom right of the rice paddy where the drainage gate was. The gate was opened. A three foot tall black PVC tunnel at quite a steep angle was behind it. The field water started rushing down. The head staffer pushed a naked guest on the back to make her slide down. An unabashed big chested, wild blond haired guest ran unabashed forward and jumped like Superman straight ahead and into the dark abyss. Her squealing of joy echoed against the PVC pipe. The glimpse of her pussy lips between her legs reverberated in my mind. A big splash in the lower field brought me back to the moment.

One by one the naked dozen of us slipped down the black tube to the next field. Splashing into the water below was refreshing. The head staffer led us from one field to the next through a system of interconnected tunnels. Some were longer, some were shallower, and some were more like a short drop straight down.

For the final one, she had us all line up sitting - back-to-front. I felt naked woman behind me and in front of me. I propped my chin on Miranda's shoulder in front of me. My hands could feel the legs of another two women as our legs were stretched out the side of us. We were like a bunch of V's stacked together. We had to scoot our butts a little. Then we Miranda started pulling me forward as she got on the downward slope. The woman behind me tugged on me hard as I disappeared from her and she was trying to stick to me. As one happy family, we slipped down the final tube and ended up in a big splash at the most bottom field, surrounded by a half circle of photographers shooting pictures of our laughter and splashing with rapid fire photo bursts.

We waded through the field, a little tired and worn from it all. The other side of the field bordered on lush grassy lawn under a canopy of low and big leafy palm trees. It was Hawaiian island inspired chill out area. Big body pillows and super fluffy white towels were spread out to invite us to sit down and recline in the oasis of shade. The grass was so thick that it felt like walking through a deep and fluffy carpet. A staffer ran up to me to help me into a cuddly terry kimono bathrobe.

Everyone sprawled out in the tropical oasis. I rested my head on Miranda's bare thigh. Nancy joined us. She let her robe fold open to reveal a carefully manicured landing strip - just two millimeters thick. She felt unabashed and perhaps a little daring to let it hang out. I would have loved fingering her, but the mood had turned so sedated and calm that I didn't dare stepping out. She put her feet with mine to play footsie.

A small army of staffers came. We had tries of snacks and refreshments offered. I went for a pineapple-nut-bar with some delicious strawberry cream. It was such a cute miniature creation. A hairstylist was working my hair. The long strokes of a comb felt delicious on my scalp. A make-up artist was touching up my face from the water exposure. Another staffer tended to touching up my nails. After the back breaking labor, it is a heavenly respite to be tended to by four people at the same time. There was also a doctor going around applying Band-Aids because a few tussles in the water had gotten a little wild. Long fingernails easily scrape. The doctors were applying a tincture of stem cells and antibiotics before covering it with a Band-Aid. They came in all different color tones, so that each woman could have a perfectly matching one to her racial skin tone. Gone were the racist times of only ones that matched white women skin.

"I'm managing partner of a modelling agency in Miami," shared Miranda while chewing on a cherry scone with her mouth open, crumbs falling down her chin and onto her décolleté. She tried stuffing the crumbs back into her mouth with her left hand that was holding a daiquiri because her right hand was being tended to by the long haired brush of a manicurist.

"Yeah, I know you want to hear about all the girls, but I mostly work in the office on business stuff like calling prospects to drum up sales. I do have a favorite though. We have no changing rooms on the wide open converted warehouse floor. Whenever a new face from the Midwest flies in and is hesitant to change in front of everyone, I have my little fun. I see plenty of naked bodies. The experienced model will drop their clothes middle on a sidewalk during a street shoot to change," Miranda continued.

"It's when I find one of those pale faced young things standing like a damsel in distress, clutching hangered clothes in front of her like a shield and frozen in place, that's when I have my little fun. The poor things barely breathe. I'll come out of my office walk straight down between the desks. I wear these ridiculous high stilettos. I make sure that the toc-toc sound of them echoes against the bare ceiling and spreads out to the whole floor. She knows I'm coming straight for her."

"I'll pause right there was a dozen heads nearby turning to us. 'Do you want to go home, little girl?' I hiss and threaten at her. I've found that adding more words dilutes it. Just that short sentence is the most threatening. Then they change right in front of me with everyone watching. Their faces get so deliciously red. I love the occasional girl that has the red spreading from her nose out toward her cheek. Or very occasionally there is a dark purple blotchy one."

"Just as she is completely naked, I'll order her, 'show me that.' I'll grab her tit of her ass to assess it, of course with a completely professional demeanor. I'll let go of it talking to myself, 'that'll do.' I'll turn around to walk back into my office. I let her see the red underside of my shoes just to know how much I am in charge. Then I'll hear a sigh of relief. And she is still all naked in front of a dozen employees watching her."

"But really all the pretty girls is getting old. Most of my time, I have to spend on my mom. She needs help for basic things. On bad days, I have to sit there and feed her. Who knew that baby food works really well on toothless parents as well! She really likes the pear-potato Gerber thing with peas. Every once in a while, she has a clear moment and will tell me how to run the business."

"It's not like it was in her days anymore. She'd sometimes model herself when need be. She was pretty, somewhat of a star even in her time and the esthetics of her time. However the industry has changed. With so many pretty girls everywhere and cameras being cheap, the whole industry of modeling has been decimated. A girl in her college dorm with a photography nerd can do a decent shot. Where we still sell big is for large scale projects, like a catalog business that needs a hundred models for a thousand products. They need our logistics."

"Actually the business has changed so much. I'm running more of a financial company than a modeling business. When we sign a model for a year, we appraise her likely revenue. We convert her contract into a negotiable instrument with her revenue as interest attached. Then we bundle the negotiable instruments into future contracts. The whole thing gets sold and resold through different financial channels. I spend a lot of long nights with spreadsheets to make the numbers work out and apply advanced trading patterns to how we sell and re-buy these contracts."

"It perverts the whole way that we select models in some way. Ordinarily, you'd think that the prettiest model would get hired. However, we get a much better margin on the medium income girls. So we'll actually sometimes pass over a stunningly hot girl for ten medium hot models. They are simply easier to commoditize. Super-hot models require a lot more personal attention and marketing, which eats into our margin. Plus they need higher risk insurance on the negotiable instrument."