I was at work the other day, and a co-worker was hitting us up for Girl Scout Cookies. I ordered two boxes of Thin Mints for my husband, but it reminded me of a spring break I spent in Savannah, home to Juliette Gordon Lowe, founder of the Girl Scouts.
I was a freshman at the University of Georgia, and I was coming home for Spring Break. It was a time for me to renew some high school friendships, as I did not have the cash to go to Florida for Spring Break.
One of my old girlfriends was Wendy. She was a very beautiful girl - medium length blond hair, nice brown eyes, dimples, a wonderful smile and very large breasts - and was not going to college. I actually was jealous of her figure, as I was so flat-chested. I was in college, but I sported modest 32-B's (I had not grown since sixth grade). Anyway, Wendy was working for the Girl Scouts of Savannah, Georgia in their gift shop on Drayton Street. It was an old, historic building, and she liked working with the girls.
I met her at the shop 30 minutes before closing in Mid-March, and we were going to go out to dinner that evening, catching up on each other's lives. We also had agreed to go out the next day to the Saint Patrick's parade - Savannah has the second largest one in the nation, and it was a chance to get plastered and stupid, things college girls needed to do on Spring Break. I got to the shop, and it was completely empty. She had some bad news, saying that she had to work the following day at the parade - selling Girl Scout cookies, of all things. Apparently the council bought too many cookies, and it was a last ditch effort to unload the cookies on the public. Most of my other friends were either in Florida or other places for Spring Break, so I had few options to myself.
"How many boxes," I asked.
"500" was the answer Wendy gave me.
I did not know how she would be able to do it, as I had remembered St.
Patty's Day was full of drunks, and beer does not go well with cookies.
"Hell, I will help you sell them. I have nothing better to do," I offered.
"Sure," Wendy said, "but we will have to find you a Leader's Uniform. You
can borrow one from the shop and I will return it after the parade." Well, I tried on the smallest leader's uniform and it was too big. Most of the Girl Scout mom's were fairly large women, I guess, and the uniforms were hanging off my body. My petite size and small breasts did not help one bit.I fit well in one of the Older Girls uniforms, so I figured that would do. Not great, but it would have to do. I joked that I would be a Girl Scout for a day!
The next day I met her in front of the shop, and she introduced me as Debbie. She did not say I was in college because I was wearing the GS uniform. I had some fun with the uniform (short-sleeve shirt and short skirt), pulling my hair back and only wearing the most basic make-up. I looked young.
Wendy and I went in one direction, and the others scattered in other areas along the parade path. We were not doing well - again, cookies do not go well with beer, but then I started flirting with the crowd. I played it up, acting bubbly, bouncy, and saying how they would help our troop with a trip to Washington, DC. And it worked.
Wendy and I were selling lots of cookies. Per her request, I even unbuttoned the top button - not showing cleavage as I was flat-chested, but I felt several men look down my shirt when I was giving them their cookies. One cute guy who was in college and definitely drinking said he would take 20 boxes, but he was wondering if I could carry them to his house around the corner. Quite an order, since most had been one's and two's. We were carrying three cases of cookies (36 boxes), as I was going to try and unload the other cookies after making this delivery.
As we walked to his house, he asked me about me. I made up that I was a high school junior, skipped a grade, and was still active with the Girl Scouts because some of my friends were still in the organization. When we were inside, he continued the chit-chat, asking if it were true that all older Girl Scouts were lesbian. I said "no", knowing he was talking about a book published in the late 1980's.
I could tell this was his parents‚ house - it was in the historic district, tastefully furnished. There were several museum-quality paintings in the house, not Van Gogh but good 19th Century work.
He said he had to go upstairs and get the cash, and he asked me to wait downstairs. Before he left, he asked me if I wanted anything to drink, and I asked him what he had. He started listing alcoholic beverages and I giggled, telling him I was 16. He said that there was no harm in one drink, that he would make it very dilute, and then he was off to get the money.
I started drinking his lime concoction - and I could tell that it was strong. I sank into a very comfortable leather couch, and fixed my ponytail. It took him 10 minutes to return, and by then, I had finished the drink. He said he would buy 24 and gave me the cash for them. He then went into the kitchen, emerging with two drinks, one for him and one for me. He asked if I had time for one more drink, and I nodded, adding that I was not used to drinking (another lie, but I giggled again).
He sat down beside me, and we chatted. I do not remember the chatting, but it was the nervous chatting that people do when they would rather fuck than chat, but were afraid to do. Then he started talking about my eyes, how deep they were. I asked them what they said to him, and he kissed me. It was a slow and deep kiss, and I returned the kiss almost aggressively. I was still holding my drink, and some of it spilled, interrupting the kiss. I placed the half-finished drink on the coaster, and we kissed again and again.
Pretty soon, he was pushing me into the couch, his two strong hands clutching my buttocks. It was a bit strange being groped in a Girl Scout uniform.
Then he suggested we go to a more comfortable room, his room. I said I had to freshen up a bit, and I went into the bathroom to take my panties off. As I entered his room, the room was poorly lit. We embraced again, kissing, and then he led me to the bed.
I asked him if he had any protection, and he said he had already slipped something on. I reclined onto the bed, and he made a motion to take off my panties. Finding them already removed, I could tell he was excited. He asked me if it was my first time, and I laughed.
He lifted up my skirt, and he began smelling and then licking me.I was so ready for him, and it seemed like an eternity before he planted his flag into me. As soon as he started fucking me, I had a heightened sense of my lower region. I could feel his member stiffen and throb. I think he was trying to pulsate it himself. I have felt this since then, but this was the first time a man did this in me.
He started to fondle my breasts through my Girl Scout uniform. And then I had the weirdest thought: "I am borrowing this uniform; I better not get anything on it."
Before I knew it, he started cumming, and I felt his penis release his load. That is when I guessed he was lying to me about wearing a condom, as I felt his cum flood me; the first time a guy ever came inside of me. As he was finishing, I wrapped my legs around his skinny butt. It felt so good, but I felt a little betrayed at the same time.
As we were cleaning up, I asked him, "How old are you?"
He said, "21, and how old are you really?"
"Fifteen," I lied again and kissed him on the lips. "Does it matter?"
"No," was his reply, and I knew at that point in my freshmen life that men really do not care about any rules during sex. You could be 15 and willing, a sister-in-law, drunk off your ass.
As long as your vagina (or asshole) gives them the friction they need, that is all that matters.
At least men are dependable that way!
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