T-Girl Confessions: Summer Camp Surprise

It was the summer of '75 and I had just started my gig as junior counselor at Camp Doya. The buds were already in full bloom when she showed up. She was wearing this tiny flower dress that seemed to be two sizes too small for her body. And when I say body, I mean ba-hot-ty.

She had long thick legs that rose up to meet her hourglass hips and generous blessings the likes of which I couldn't even conjure on my best day. We're talking a dump truck the size of a Carolina Cross watermelon and Triple Ds that poured out the sides of her tie neck dress.

I watched her as she pranced through the open gate welcoming her to the camp. Her magnificent haunches bounced as she walked and I could see her gluteal fold as the hem of her dress was taken by the summer breeze.

“Good God,” I exclaimed as she flounced past like some Amazon woman, her gargantuan tits swaying to and fro as she made her way to the Camp Director's cabin.

“Hey,” said Lenny, “holster that thing, muchacho.”

Lenny was a bunk counselor, so he technically had seniority over my ass. As the only one of us over the age of twenty-one, Lenny thought he was the big man on campus. But on the day in question, he might as well have been some fourteen-year-old kid with his first pube. Because the minute he saw what I saw, he was just as gobsmacked as I was.

“Holy Moses,” he cried. “What would you even call that?”

“A mirage?”

“More like a goddamn miracle,” he said. “Didn't know buttocks could grow to that size outside o' Africa.”

“Me neither,” I said. “You think she's here to see Gerald?”

“Boy, you must have dog shit for brains you think some gaylord like Gerald could pull a piece of tail like that. Wouldn't know what to do with it even if she flung it at him. Bet he'd start sniffling and soil his drawers.”

She emerged from Gerald's cabin moments later, wearing a white poly-cotton dress with matching nylon stockings, shiny white pumps, and a starched white nurse's cap. Her enormous cleavage heaved out the front of her skintight dress. Something about her features looked decidedly Swedish—the braids in her hair, her sharp features, and those prize-winning casabas.

Gerald scurried after her with his little clipboard.

“Jumping Jews of Jerusalem,” Lenny exclaimed. “She looks like a goddang angel!”

“Freaky deaky,” I said.

I gawked at her as she made her way along the veranda. Her ass was as fat as her tits and she looked strong enough to snap a cock in two.

“Better quit peepin',” Lenny warned. “Unless you want your first disciplinary write-up. Gerald may be limp in the wrist, but he wields that clipboard like a Mace, hombre.”

I didn't respond, unable to take my eyes off the dirty blonde with the enormous sweater puppies. Finally, he sighed.

“Whatever, man. I gotta go whoop those little shitbirds in bunk four. Snake my toilet. I'll snake your ass.”

Lenny shuffled off, still complaining under his breath, but I wasn't paying him no mind. All I could think about was the sight before me—a glorified shieldmaiden with bazookas that could bust a guy outta prison and an ass that could smother a family of four.

I watched as Gerald led her over to the vending machines where the other counselors were blowing off steam. They all tossed their butts and roaches as he approached, adjusting their uniforms. Then they saw the Swede and their jaws hit the floor.

The girls all looked appalled, while the guys looked fit for body bags. I watched as they shook her hand gingerly and she favored them with a toothy smile. Her warm brown eyes seemed to project the sun at each one of them.

Her tits jiggled as she pressed the flesh, each jerk of her hand sending a ripple through her copious casabas. I began to pitch a tent in my short shorts.

Something in my movement must have drawn her eye. The dirty blonde cocked her head to the side and gazed my way.

I must have looked like a real perv, squatting out there in the bushes and squinting at her with a boner on the rise. She looked out curiously and smiled a sly smile that told me I'd been made.

In a fit of desperation, I pretended to swat at an invisible bee. Then I departed in a hurry, swiping at the air unconvincingly.

“Ronnie,” Gerald yelled out, but I ignored him. “Ronald's one of our junior counselors.”

“Oh,” I heard the Swede exclaim in an intrigued tone.

That's about when I lost a load in my tighty whities, but expulsion wasn't enough to quell my curiosity about the new arrival. I waited until Gerald had returned to his office. Then I scurried back to the cabin block.

As my fellow counselors dispersed, I followed the dirty blonde. She circled the veranda, making her way around the side of the building to where there were no windows.

She stood on the meadow overlooking scenic Lake Wesa and unbuttoned her white poly-cotton dress, exhibiting the eggshell-colored bra beneath. It was an over-the-shoulder boulder holder alright and she was putting it to work with her plentiful papillas.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In and out. Then she proceeded to do lunges, her colossal casabas cutting through the air like butter.

Her thighs were thicker and creamier than anything I'd seen outside a R. Crumb comic and her cleavage looked like it could house a family of midgets.

I gaped as she inhaled anew, bringing her beautiful legs together. She exhaled and bounced in the air, busting in to a sustained regimen of jumping jacks that sent her bountiful charlies soaring.

I lost another load to my short shorts and scurried off, the whole time thinking, I'm gonna get to the bottom of this. And the whole time praying, Please Lord, let me get to the bottom of her.

* * *

Lenny caught me staring at her again. She was coming out of t