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Cammie Cummins



Published by Cammie Cummins

Secret Summer of Lovng, Copyright © 2018 by Cammie Cummins

Our Little Secret, Copyright © 2017 by Cammie Cummins

Secret Tryst, Copyright © 2017 by Cammie Cummins

Secrets to Share, Copyright © 2017 by Cammie Cummins

Cover Art, Copyright © 2017 Alanpoulson |

Cover Design, Copyright © 2017 by Cammie Cummins

All rights reserved

This book and all the works contained within are works of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in this book are 18 years or older.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Warning: This ebook contains steamy explicit descriptions of sexual activities including female on female, oral, and lesbian sex. It is intended for mature readers who are 18 or older and not offended by graphic depictions of sex acts between consenting adults, specifically hot lesbian sex or erotica.


They all needed a vacation.

The New England winter where they lived had been particularly brutal that year. The girls, Sue and Mallory, were high school graduates now, eighteen and heading off to college in the fall. So neighbors and best friends, Debbie Cooper and Marilyn Swanson pooled their resources and rented a five bedroom cottage on Cape Cod for the summer.

What better sendoff could they give the girls, and Sue and Mallory’s best friend, Whitney, than a summer of sun, surf, sand, and sexual discovery—though admittedly that last part hadn’t been part of the plan.


Debbie Cooper sat with her arms folded on the small table in the kitchen nook. It was night outside. The windows were open. A gentle breeze stirred the flower-print curtains, cool against her exposed flesh.

She wore a white tank top T-shirt and blue shorts. Her long, red hair was pulled over her face and held with a flat seashell-shaped barrette. Her straight, red bangs covered her wide forehead, reaching down to her dark eyebrows.

Her fair skin was hot and pink from being in the sun all day, but she hadn’t burned. Determined not to on her first day of vacation, Debbie had applied copious amounts of coconut-scented suntan lotion throughout the hot summer day. She never tanned, but could easily burn if she wasn’t careful. Her rich orangey freckles contrasted nicely with her pinked by the sun skin. She liked the glow she knew it gave her.

What she could’ve done without was the sour feel in the pit of her stomach. She stared at the polished surface of the table, hard and cool under her folded arms, and willed it to go away. Their first day of vacation and already she’d had too much to drink. The centerpiece on the table was made up of seashells and sculpted dolphins leaping around a sea-green scented candle that flickered and burned. Their little porpoise mouths were painted into grins, each of them laughing at her for over indulging.


In the kitchen, the coffee maker gurgled, brewing fresh coffee and filling the small, rented cottage with a coffee aroma that was to die for.

“Where are the coffee mugs?” the girl puttering around in the kitchen asked. She opened and banged shut cabinet doors.

At least it sounded like banging to Debbie’s sensitive head. “I’m not sure. We just moved in this morning.”

The cottage was a summer rental a block from the beach on Cape Cod. Debbie had rented it with her neighbor and best friend, Marilyn Swanson, Mary for short. With them for the summer were their daughters, Mallory and Sue, and their best friend in the world Whitney.

“Found them,” the girl in the kitchen called out triumphantly. The coffee machine gurgled, hissed and spit. “How do you take your coffee?”


The girl came out from around the butcher block island in the kitchen and set a bowl of sugar and cream on the table. “I take mine light and sweet, like me.” She giggled. “That’s what my mom always says anyway. Silly, right?”

“Adorable actually,” Debbie said.

She watched the young girl sashay back to the kitchen, wearing a pink bikini top and skintight red shorts. Debbie caught herself staring at the girl’s round, plump ass barely contained by the skimpy short shorts that were wedged tightly in her ass. She had nicely shaped, long, tanned legs. A pretty brunette, Debbie had only just met her a few hours earlier at a community bonfire on the beach to kick off the summer season.

On the walk home from the bonfire, the girl told Debbie her name was Kelly.

There, vacationing with her parents, they’d rented a cottage on the beach too. But, they weren’t staying the entire summer, only a week. After that it was back home to Maine. Mom and Dad to go back to work while Kelly reported for a hundred and twenty hours of community service at the local animal shelter.

The girl poured coffee into two ceramic mugs and returned to the table. She put one down in front of Debbie and took the seat next to her.

“Thanks.” Debbie put her hands around the warm mug and sniffed in the steamy coffee aroma. It smelled wonderful and helped to settle her stomach.

Kelly doctored her coffee with sugar and cream, stirred it, and tapped the spoon against the rim of the mug before putting it on a paper napkin and taking a sip. Her fingernails were painted a bright and shiny red. Her fingers were long and slender and delicate.

“You didn’t need to escort me home,” Debbie said. “I didn’t drink that much.”

Kelly smiled. It was a pretty smile. “The fire was getting pretty lame anyway. About the only people left were those obnoxious boys. I think they were drunk.”

“You’re right, they were. Anyway, thank you.”

From somewhere off in the distance a buoy bell clanged and a bright white light from a passing car flashed through the kitchen and then was gone. They sipped their coffee and Debbie started to feel less drunk. “You know what would make this coffee taste better?”

Kelly didn’t answer.

“Booze.” Debbie got up and crossed into the kitchen.

When they unpacked the cars earlier, Mary had put the all the alcohol they brought with them in a cabinet next to the refrigerator. Debbie opened a carton and returned to the table with a bottle of Widow Jane straight bourbon whiskey. She cracked the twist top and poured some into her mug and into Kelly’s before the young girl could stop her.

“No. No.” She waved her hand.

“What?” Debbie said twisting the cap back on, sitting down. “I saw you drinking at the bonfire.”

The pretty brunette looked away coyly.

“You are over twenty-one, aren’t you?”

“Um.” She blushed. “No,” she admitted.

“Come on. Really? Eighteen, at least.”

Kelly smiled. “Nineteen, twenty in December.”

“Oh, well that’s close enough,” Debbie said, smiling. “Drink up.”

They sipped their coffees. The shot of booze hit Debbie like a jolt. Instantly her stomach felt better and the hangover headache she’d been developing was gone.

“That is much better,” Kelly said. “You said you’re here with your family?”

“Yes. My daughter Mallory, her best friends Sue and Whitney, and my best friend, Mary. Marilyn, but she prefers Mary. You should meet them. They’re your age, almost.”

“Where are they tonight?”

Debbie checked her watch. A thin, gold lady’s Rolex. “The girl’s when to a party they heard about so I don’t expect them back until the wee hours of the morning. Mary, she said she was too tired to come to the bonfire so she went to a movie instead. She’ll be gone for another few hours.”

“You’re here with just your friend, a…woman?”

An odd question, Debbie thought. “Yes. She’s my neighbor, and Sue’s mom.”

“Oh.” Kelly drank more coffee. “What about your husband, or hers? They had to work or something?”

Debbie looked down at her coffee cup. “I’m not married. I had Mallory when I was very young, and foolish. The guy, a kid really, he wasn’t father material.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Debbie reached her hand out and patted Kelly’s arm. “It’s okay, sweetie. I didn’t need some man to help me raise my daughter. I’m a single mom and I couldn’t be prouder of that, or of Mallory. I think I, we, did just fine.”

“I’m sure you did, but didn’t it get…lonely?”

“Sometimes.” Debbie realized she still had her hand on Kelly’s arm. The contact was warm, and electric. “But tell me about you. You’ve got a boyfriend back home?”

“No.” she shook her head and her straight hair flew back and forth. Kelly scooped it off her face and tucked it behind her ears. “I mean I’ve dated, but I don’t know, boys.”

Debbie smiled. “They can be annoying, especially at that age.”

Kelly shrugged. “I guess.”

“What?” Debbie ran her hand up and down Kelly’s forearm. “Are boys not your thing?”

Kelly glanced up quickly and then just as fast looked away. “What? No. Boys are fine.”

Debbie gave her a knowing, sideways glance. “What is it, Kelly? It’s okay to not like boys.”

“It’s not like that.” She pulled her arm away. “I mean, I don’t know. I’ve never been…comfortable with boys?” She tilted her head. “You know?”

Debbie scooted her chair closer and rubbed Kelly’s upper arm. Goosebumps prickled her arm. “Kelly, honey, there’s nothing wrong with being into…girls. Not in today’s day and age.”

“It’s not that,” Kelly said. “It’s that, I mean, how do you know? I’ve never…”

“Well,” the older woman said. “Are you attracted to boys…or girls?”

“I don’t know.” Kelly shrugged. “Both. I mean, I’ve been with…done things with boys and it was…okay.”

Debbie smiled. “But not anything special.”

“Right. I mean no,” Kelly admitted. “Nothing special.”

“Well, that could just be you were with the wrong boy. Boys at your age,” Debbie snorted a laugh, “they’re pretty clueless about how to make a girl feel.”

“Do you? I mean are you and your friend Mary…” She blushed and turned away.

“Mary, oh Lord, no. She’s married. The guys a jerk, and it’s as loveless a marriage as you’ve ever seen, but, no, she’s one hundred percent straight.”

With a timid expression, Kelly looked at Debbie. “Are you?”

“I…” Taken aback by the question, Debbie stroked Kelly’s brown hair. Straight and shoulder length, she hooked it behind the girl’s ear. Deflecting, she was buying time to formulate the right answer. When she did, she said, “I’ve been with women before.”

“You have?”

“Sure.” Debbie gave the girl an encouraging smile. She remembered how sexually confused she was at that age, trying to sort through her feelings. Conflicting stimuli. And, of course, for her it was a time way less accepting of same sex encounters than now.

“I was about your age,” she said, “pregnant with Mallory, not far along, just starting to show. I was at my friend Becky’s house for a sleepover. She and I got into this huge fight. I don’t remember about what. Something stupid I’m sure. Probably, it was my fault. My hormones were all over the place. Emotionally, I was a wreck. Anyway, it was the middle of the night. Too late to call home for a ride, so I grabbed a blanket and my pillow and stormed off to the guest bedroom.

“I laid there, all curled up, hugging a stuffed teddy bear I’d found, crying probably, when Becky’s mom came into the room. She asked if she could lie down with me. I told her sure. She snuggled up against me. I was laying on my side, with my back to her. She draped her arm over my hip. I was only wearing a T-shirt and panties. I remember how warm her body felt against me. And how soft and cuddly that big, stuffed teddy bear I clutched felt.

“With her hand draped over me, Becky’s mom kept playing with that bear’s ear; pulling it, tugging it, caressing it while we talked long into the night, or morning, I guess. The room was dark. I couldn’t see her. She was more like a presence; talking to me, consoling me, comforting me. She smelled nice, like baby powder.

“I told her I was feeling crampy. She told me to roll over on my back. I did. She started to rub my belly. Nice light, gentle circles with her fingertips. It felt so soothing, and I’d been so upset, tired, I started to drift off.

“I remember the feel of her breath on my neck. She leaned in closer. I felt her lips close to my cheeks, touching my skin but not quite. At some point, she slipped her hand under my T-shirt, still rubbing my stomach. Her fingers warm against my skin. My breathing grew shallow. All that caressing stirred something inside me. A desire. A need. I realized it was turning me on. I was getting hot.

“Being pregnant made me so horny anyway. I put my hand over Becky’s Mom’s and I pushed it up, making her cup my breast under my shirt. She said to me, ‘Mallory, are you sure?’ I said, yes.

“She squeezed it and rolled over, turned into me and draped her leg over my crotch. She rubbed it back and forth, across me, while I squirmed underneath her. I opened my legs and scissored her leg between mine. She rubbed her thigh up and down against my panties. I pumped my hips, rubbing myself against her, feeling her shallow breath on my face. I grew breathless myself.”

Debbie paused to take a sip of her coffee. It had grown cold.

“Then what happened?” Kelly asked.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” Kelly said but she seemed nervous.

Debbie scooped the girl’s hair from her face and hooked the fallen locks once more behind her ear. “Are you really sure?”

Even as she asked the question, Debbie worried the girl would disappoint her, change her mind and tell her no. She waited, anxious for the girl’s answer.

“Yes.” Her smile seemed unsure though.

Not convinced the girl was in, not all the way, Debbie stood up and took her by the hand. “Come on then. We should finish this story in the bedroom, in case anyone comes home.”

Kelly stood up. “Okay.”

Debbie had the master bedroom. It was on the first floor off the living room. The other four bedrooms were upstairs; one for each of the girls, and Mary had staked claim on the large one at the end with its own private sundeck.

In the master bedroom, Debbie closed the door behind them. She turned the lights on but lowered the dimmer switch to its lowest setting without actually turning off the lights. She directed Kelly to the bed. “Have a seat. It’s a really comfortable mattress.”

Debbie went other dresser and struck a match. When it flared she touched it to several scented candles she’d put out earlier. The room brightened with the orangey, flickering glow of candle light and the air filled with a wonderful apple-cinnamon fragrance.

Then she sat on the bed facing Kelly. She again stroked the girl’s hair behind her ears. “You have really beautiful hair.”

With a shy expression and appearing more nervous than ever, Kelly looked away. She rubbed her arm like she was cold. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

But she was, and that was okay. Debbie understood. She remembered the butterflies that fluttered around in her belly when she’d taken Becky’s mom’s hand from her breast and guided it down her stomach, as she slipped it under her panties and helped push the woman’s fingers between her pussy lips.

She shivered again at the memory.

“What happened next,” Kelly asked, “with your friend’s mom?”

“Maybe instead of telling you, I should show you.”

Kelly blushed and giggled nervously. “Okay.”

Debbie swept the girl’s hair back off her shoulder and she kissed the soft curve of her neck, lightly touching her skin with her lips. Kelly raised her shoulders and coyly looked away. Debbie leaned in. she kissed the side of Kelly’s neck. Then she nibbled her earlobe, kissed her neck some more. Gentle. Soft. Sensual.

Kelly’s hair smelled of apricots.

The girl shifted positions.

Debbie sat back.

Kelly gave her a shy, coy look.

“If you don’t want to…” Debbie offered. She let the question hang.

Kelly shook her head. “No. I want to. It’s just…”

Debbie reached out and chucked the girl’s chin. She leaned in and kissed her mouth. Their lips were dry. They tasted like coffee. They kissed, chaise, soft pecks at first. Then Kelly parted her lips. She leaned in and kissed Debbie back.

Debbie pulled away and climbed off the bed. “Sit back here.”

She softly patted the white pillows propped against the bed’s fancy headboard.

Kelly crawled to the head of the bed and flipped around. She sat with her back against the pillows. She folded her hands over her lap, one on top of the other, protectively over her crotch.

Debbie checked in one more time. “We good?”

Kelly smiled shyly. “Yes.”

“Take off your top,” Debbie said.

Kelly sat forward and untied her string behind her back. She took her bikini top over her head and tossed it to the floor. She leaned back against the pillows and folded her arms over her smallish breasts.

Debbie gave her a quizzical look. “Seriously?”

In response, Kelly gave her a devilish smile. “You first.”

Debbie smiled back. “You little tease.”

But she had no problem doing as Kelly wished. She peeled the spaghetti straps of her white tank top off her freckled shoulders. She snaked her arms from the holes and rolled the cotton down her body to her hips. Then she brought her hands up, rubbing them over her large hanging globs of flesh. She had bit tits and she loved them. She rubbed the palms of her hands over her big, pink nipples, lifting her boobs and then let gravity flop them down again. She pulled her hands away like a magician—ta-da—exposing herself to this pretty, young girl.

“Your turn,” Debbie said.

Kelly spread her arms in much the same way Debbie had, revealed her two beautifully-shaped, perfectly-proportioned, brown nipple-capped breasts. Her nipples were dark and hard.

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