After greeting Sandy politely, she returned to conversation with the man on her other side. On his right was a French poet, a younger man, maybe early...thirties. He was very pleasant, and spoke poor English, so their conversation was in French. They chatted through the first course, but it became clear that the poet was gay. No problem with that, but it was obvious that he was more interested in making a play for Sandy, than chatting about literature, or anything else. Their conversation. When she spoke she had a Spanish accent - I asked her where she was from and she looked at me and leaned over so I could smell her. Mmmmm, she said Columbia I think. Her name was Angel. She was so damn sexy, I wanted to undress her right there and kiss her body all over! What was happening?? I was watching her the whole time, how could I not? She was watching me too, I felt electric! I was wet and so turned on thinking about making love to her. I had never been sexually attracted to another. Trying to catch my breath I lie back onto the floor. Filled with happiness I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of her fingers sweeping over my breasts and stomach, lulling me to sleep.I wake to find her sleeping beside me, I partially sit up and look at her, I look intently at her dreaming face, my eyes make their way downward watching her gentle breathing, I am in awe of her beauty and acutely aware of just how much I desire her.Carefully I crawl between her legs and part her thighs, burying. At lunch, Hartwell announced to every one that he would be leaving in a few minutes for his conference and that he was leaving the camp in Jennifer's capable hands. The afternoon schedule had called for cabin 7 being at the archery field while cabin 6 was having a swim but, instead, Pete kept the guys in their cabin, getting them to pack the gear they would need and giving them their last instructions.Robert and Luke were seasoned outing 'survivors', having been with Pete in the past but, for.