Just One of the Girls

As the older men entered the cabin on the main level, the younger generation was downstairs in the rec room sprawled out. Austin, Jared, and Owen sat in front of the television watching a college football pre-game show for another of the endless bowl games during the holidays. Only Austin seemed focused on listening to the talking heads babble on with the same tired clichés about the upcoming games. Replaying last night's sex romp with Whitney over and over in his mind, Owen was unsure what to make of it. Jared couldn't decide whether he or Sean suffered the most embarrassment during breakfast; Sean for the persistent prying and teasing about girls or Jared for his mom, acting like that in front of him. At the moment, Jared leaned towards Sean, having had it worse.

Sitting on a barstool behind the three boys, Sean tried to forget the breakfast debacle with one of the books Mr. Stratton had given him. He picked the legal thriller, as the sex-filled teen **** mystery felt a little too close to his current predicament. He sat on the stool farthest from the stairway with the card table, where Newt played his video game, behind him. This spot allowed him to watch who came down the stairs, giving him a chance to escape if his mother's friends were serious about grilling him over his preferences in girls. Unfortunately, an abundance of activity in the cabin seemed to be happening this morning as the occupants adjusted to their new surroundings while showering and dressing, causing Sean to look up from his novel frequently in apprehension, making it difficult to settle into the story.

Thus, Sean was the first person to notice Whitney make her way down from the main level with a purpose in her step. Walking over to Sean, she acknowledged him with a brief smile but continued her step until she reached the card table behind him. Standing in front and over Newt, she looked down at the teen playing his game.

"Get up and winterize yourself," Whitney ordered.

Newt either didn't hear Whitney or, more likely, didn't want to listen to her. He continued playing his game until a sharp kick to his leg **** him to look up.

"What?" he meekly asked.

"I said, get up and go winterize yourself!" the annoyed blonde repeated. Getting only a look of confusion in return, Whitney sighed and explained further. "Myself, Lacey, and Ramsey are taking a hike, and you're coming with us. So get up and go dress warmly."

"But I don't want to go on a hike," Newt stated, confused as to why anyone would think he wanted to go hiking.

"Consider this your punishment for skipping out on the hot tubbing last night. Now get up!"

"Do I have to? I'd rather stay here," he half-whined, alarmed at the thought of being alone with three beautiful girls.

"Let me explain this in a way you might understand," a miffed Whitney started in a stern voice. "You won't like me when I'm angry. If you're not dressed and ready to go with us in ten minutes, you will meet my bitchy side. You got that?"

"Makeup sex is the best!"

Newt cringed for the umpteenth time on this excruciating trek. He wasn't sure how long they had been walking, maybe thirty minutes, but his discomfort made it feel like hours. Lacey had just finished recounting how she had slapped Austin last night over his bad behavior all day and how it led them to make up. Blushing, she had proceeded to describe in detail--way, way too much detail for Newt--just how the two had made up. Newt had heard less graphic tales in the boys' locker room after a guy had taken Caterina Quill out on a date. This after Whitney had recounted her own account of Christmas lingerie and sex with her boyfriend, in agonizing detail. Hearing sex stories like these would give most teenage boys a raging hard-on, but Newt felt such distress at being alone with the likely top three crushes for guys in the senior class that he was as limp as a wet noodle. Although unknown to Newt at this moment, for many years into the future, the term Mrs. Claus would cause him instant erections around the holiday season.

"I've tried telling you this for like forever," Whitney continued after her proclamation. "Maybe now you'll start listening to more of my sage advice."

"Whitney, Lacey, can you please just stop," Ramsey pleaded. Peering over, Newt saw the girl's discomfort and blushing face and wondered if he looked as uncomfortable or worse.

"Oh, lighten up, Rammy. We're talking about sex. Sex! It happens every second around the world. Your parents must have had it for you to be walking next to us," Whitney declared, deciding it was time to tell her friend a thing or two. "Someday, you'll have sex too unless you want to be a spinster with a dozen cats."

"You don't have to be so mean to me. I just don't like when you two get so vulgar about it," the strawberry blonde virgin told her friend. "At least Lacey used to behave decently; you rarely ever did."

"Maybe she did until she got fucked. Yeah, the f-word, Ram. Oh, I can't wait until the day some hard cock pops your cherry. I wonder just how repressed you are sometimes. I bet once you get fucked, the freaky Ramsey will come out to play. A cum slut begging for more and more," speculated Whitney harshly.

"Knock it off, Whitney," Lacey ordered.

"Oh. My. Gawd! How can you say that to me? A boy is standing right there!" squawked Ramsey, pointing at the said boy.

Up to now, Newt had managed to escape the girls' attention by walking a solid fifteen feet behind them. Now with all three pairs of eyes swinging over to face him, he became a deer in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, unable to avoid the crushing blow of attention coming his way.

"Pssh, Newt? He's no boy. I told you earlier he's one of the girls today. So we can talk about anything in front of him," snorted Whitney. "Right, Newt?"

"Okay, that's enough. Whitney, you need to apologize to Rammy and Newt," Lacey again tried to order her friend.

"Newt? What did I do to him?"

"You've clearly embarrassed him. The poor guy looks ready to have a stroke," Lacey stated, looking in concern at the paralyzed young man.

"Well, maybe you should have considered him when telling us what would be in your Dear Penthouse letter," Whitney chided her friend with the old reference, conveniently forgetting about her own lusty tale.

"Oh, shit. Yeah, I'm sorry, Newt. I kinda forgot you were behind us," the blushing redhead apologized.

Feeling Ramsey's glare before she saw it, Whitney turned to look at her friend. "I'm sorry, Ram. You know I love you, but you really do need to lighten up at times." Turning next to look at Newt, "I'm sorry too. I guess you're not one of the girls any longer, so no getting to watch us change clothes later. Just remember what you hear and see here today falls under the girl code, so no snitching!"

"Whitney," sighed a frustrated Lacey.

"C'mon, we're on vacation. We're supposed to be having fun, so have some fun," the blonde declared before she skipped away down the path.

Is she seriously skipping? Who does that at our age? Newt wondered, finally breaking out of his feeble state, noticing the pleasant way her butt cheeks moved from her skipping.

A few minutes later, Whitney stopped and waited for the others to catch up. The path now had reached a point where it diverged into two directions. Once the others came to a stop near Whitney, she spoke up.

"Pop quiz time for the girls that have been to our destination in the past. If we continue going straight, we'll reach the caves; if we go that way, we'll head to the Daffodil Falls. Which path do we take?"

"It's been a few years since we went there; I'm not sure," admitted Lacey.

"Hmm, I think it's neither path if that makes sense," guessed Ramsey.

"Yippee! We have a winner in Ramsey," Whitney informed them, as she pointed to a small gap in the bushes to their left.

"In there?" Newt asked incredulously. "That's not a path."

"And right you are. It's an old animal trail," their guide started to explain until she noticed Newt's eyes bugging out. "Calm down; people use it a decent amount of the time. Hikers, birdwatchers, and park rangers. It's perfectly safe."

The blonde pushed apart the hanging shrubbery and proceeded forward down the trail. Concerned over how Newt would fare in the woods, Lacey motioned for him to go next. That way, she could follow behind and keep an eye on him, leaving Ramsey to bring up the rear.

Newt ended up surprised at how easy it was to navigate down the trail after the first ten feet. Most of the small trees or bushes had lost their leaves for the winter, so only a spare branch here or there was partially in his way. Still, he could imagine that the path would be more difficult once the foliage bloomed in warmer weather.

"Ouch!" Newt exclaimed as he fell backward to the ground. Lying there, he rubbed his forehead that was throbbing in pain.

"You okay? What happened?" Whitney asked in concern after turning around to see what the commotion had been.

"He hit his head on that large branch," pointed out Lacey, who had seen the incident while it happened.

"I know you aren't a woodsman, bookworm, but you do need to keep your eyes in front of you at all times and not admire the scenery," explained Whitney, helping to pull him up.

"Oh, I think Newt was watching in front of him all right; it's the scenery in front of him that distracted him," Lacey giggled.

The teenage boy blushed, knowing that at least Lacey realized he hadn't seen that branch because he had been staring at the way Whitney's tight butt hypnotically moved side to side. After the petite redhead behind him dusted off the snow from his back, they had continued onwards for another fifteen minutes.

Coming up on a clearing, Newt sounded out his awe. "Beautiful isn't it," Lacey said in his ear. Nodding, the dark-haired teen took in the sight before him. There was an hourglass-shaped pond, frozen this time of year, and dotted around it were clumps of leafless trees. "It's like something out of a Charlie Brown Christmas cartoon."

"Oh, Newt. That's a great call," giggled Ramsey, marveling at the frozen pond she hadn't seen in several years.

"It must be magical in the summer," guessed Newt.

"Actually, it sucks in the hot weather. The place is a breeding ground for mosquitoes," explained Whitney. "But in the winter, it's a natural ice skating rink. The water is so calm it freezes almost perfectly. A Zamboni couldn't do a much better job. We'll just need to shovel or brush off any snow."

"When are we planning on coming out here? I can't wait. I've loved skating out here since we were little," asked an eager Lacey.

"I'm hoping tomorrow. There's a chance for some poor weather, so we'll need to keep an eye on the forecast," their blonde hostess told them.

"Who's all going to come out here?" inquired a suddenly talkative Newt. He had zero interest in ice skating but thought it might be fun to watch others try.

"Us three, of course. Too bad Lana and Peyton won't be here yet, but we'll come out here again before the trip is over," Whitney promised. "I'm guessing your mom, Lace, and Mrs. Lockett will. My dad always comes with to keep an eye on us, even with us now eighteen; I'm going to assume he will come just for old times sake since we haven't been here for a few winters."

"Austin is definitely coming with us, even if I have to drag him myself," Lacey proclaimed with some heat behind her words. "We'll make the other boys come with too, but I know my dad will be out, with his back still acting up."

"Mr. Lockett loves the outdoors, so I would expect him; Uncle Fred's the opposite, so he's a no," predicted Whitney.

"What about that Skye?" Ramsey asked in a soft voice as if she talked about a boogeyman lurking in the woods nearby.

"We'll have to ask. She looks fairly athletic, so she might be interested," answered Whitney.

"I don't know about her. Mr. Singer's not known lately for picking the best women. He should have never brought her on this trip, of all trips," Lacey said. Whitney tried to argue, but she kept on talking. "I know you have this blind spot for him. I get it, he's one of your dad's oldest friends, and he spoiled you rotten as a little girl. But I hear the other side of the stories that you don't from my parents and Finn."

"What if she is a stripper?" Ramsey burst out, unable to keep the question in any longer.

"I doubt that she is, but so what if she works as one. She's got the figure for it," shrugged Whitney.

"But-"

"I wonder exactly what kind of 'model' she really is?" Lacey asked, cutting Ramsey off. "I bet if we found her pictures online, they'd be trashy porn."

"No, they're not. Her Instagram pictures are quite tastefu...what?" Newt asked when all eyes turned to him, filled with surprise and questions.

"Newty, did you rush off last night and cyberstalk Skye?" an amused Whitney asked. "So you skipped out on the hot tub to search for her pictures. Hmm, were they 'tasteful" enough that you rubbed one out...you did!" Happy for reasons no one else knew, she grabbed him from his side and gave him a firm hug, his arm squashed between her two breasts.

"Whit--Newt--how could you?" sputtered Ramsey in shock that her friend would ask that question, that Newt did do it and that Whitney found it almost adorable. Meanwhile, Lacey tittered beside her.

"See, this is what I meant about lightening up. Newt jerked off to Skye, so what? People do it; I do it, Lacey does it, you do--well, I'm not sure about that. Damn, we really need to find you a new guy. You've been such a Debbie Downer since Micah moved. Too bad you're never interested in anyone we suggest," Whitney told her friend, piquing Newt's interest, as Sean would want any information on who Ramsey may like.

"I think I know someone our Miss Swift might like. 'Oh, Jared, tell me all about Rattle Ridge. Wow, you play two sports. I want you so bad'," Lacey teased her friend by impersonating her voice.

"Wait; what? What the hell did I miss last night?" a bemused Whitney asked.

"Lacey! It wasn't like that. I wanted to interview him for The Buzzy Bee. You know that!" protested Ramsey, but her blushing red face gave away that there was some truth to Lacey's comments.

"I bet you want to 'interview' him," teased the petite redhead, knowing she hit home with her hunch.

Off to the side of the bickering girls, Newt hit the record button in his brain, soaking up all the comments and body language, so that he could later give Sean a detailed report on this disconcerting development.

"Lacey, you remember what those girls from Rattle Ridge told us at cheer camp last summer about him? He's big, real big, where it counts," Whitney said while holding her hands apart to showcase to Ramsey what size she meant.

"Oh, Ramsey, I would've loved to let you interview my big dick after I was the stud in the big game," Lacey continued now in an awful impersonation of Jared. "If only I had known it was a luscious piece of ass lik--oww!"

"Oh, no! Are you okay? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lace!" the strawberry blonde babbled out after she had shoved her friend to stop the embarrassment, and Lacey had slipped and fallen to the ground.

"Geez, Rammy. No need to get all violent," Whitney chastised her friend while leaning over to check on the fallen girl. "You okay? Where does it hurt?"

"Ankle. I think I twisted it a little," answered Lacey, with some tears in her eyes from the pain.

"You three need to stop teasing each other for the day," Newt ordered, surprising even himself for saying what he was thinking out loud.

"Oh, now you decide to get some backbone," an exasperated Whitney moaned. "Well, guess what, Mr. Needless Advice, it's time for you to be a big, strong man and help Lace walk back."

Sighing, the boy moved forward to do what the blonde told him. When he noticed Whitney directing them into a different direction than the one they came from, he asked about it.

"This is the shorter route back to the cabin," she explained. Then upon his asking why they didn't come that way the first time, she went on, "Because the trail is harder to find off the main path. It's far easier to find the one where the main path branches off."

Newt sighed again. Now his trip would entail Lacey's perky breast rubbing on him the whole way back, while Ramsey unceasingly apologized at the same time. He missed his video game. He missed it terribly.