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I was tempted but held my ground. Jen didn't mind the flirting because she noticed, early on, that after they left she would get a session of love making that would leave her totally wasted.On one of the sleepovers I was eves-dropping on a conversation the girls were having. They were having an intimate conversation about their relations with boys. The subject of virginity came up and they went around telling about their first time. One girl related as to how she got her cherry popped in the back seat of a car at the drive-in. She lamented that it was pretty much wham-bam and it was all over. She said that the guy didn't even know anything about foreplay so it hurt a lot. Another girl agreed since she also got popped by an inconsiderate slob who dumped her and then bragged to his buddies about it. My ears perked up when another girl admitted that her brother had taken her virginity. She said that he got her hot and all of a sudden it happened. She swore everybody to secrecy since she.  Her 'spot' was a huge flat granite rock maybe thirty feet across and twenty feet deep which afforded her a spectacular view of the valley some four thousand feet below. Misty shrugged out of her backpack and hung it on the dead limb of a nearby pint tree then walked over to the edge of the rock and stared off into space for a while then she stretched her arms and began unbuttoning her shirt. Once her shirt was off she quickly slipped out of her shorts, bra and panties and stood in the bright sunshine in nothing but her pair of Bigelow Ultra light backpacking boots which quickly joined the rest of her clothes.Misty walked back to the pine tree and pulled the five gallon Summer Shower out of her backpack, checked the temperature gauge, and then hung it on the limb next to the rest of her gear. The hike had been long and grueling and before she lay down for some sun and fun she wanted a cool shower. The temperature on the front of the shower bag read 73 degrees as she cracked the spout.
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Rose-Marie felt her crotch again. She knew the answer, of course. She had seen enough pornography over the years to know that anything was possible. Though Yves quite simply did not have the stamina of a porn star. And most men of her acquaintance were similarly less well endowed. She herself was too thin, her bosom too small, her anus too resisting, for her to ever consider pornography as a career. A maid knocked timorously on the door to the balcony. Rose-Marie smiled at her. She was definitely not of porn star material. Her large floppy breasts. Her rough hands. And that docility shared by all the servants she’d ever met. “What is it?” she demanded of the maid. Her head bowed, the white cap on her head the only clothing she wore, but enough to denote her status. “If you please, ma’amzelle,” she said in her Creole French, “There is a gentleman to see you.” “Is it Yves?” “It is, ma’amzelle.” “Well, don’t be such an idiot with formality. Just bring him in!” Rose-Marie cursed.

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