It had been fifteen years since my last summer camp stay. The program ran every year, inviting kids aged four to eighteen for a month of camping, kayaking, abseiling, and just about every fun activity you could imagine.

I was eighteen that final year. And while most memories had faded, the best parts still clung to me: the sunset bonfires on the beach, the surf, the girls. God, the senior girls were something else. A group of sun-kissed eighteen-year-olds, their shirts soaked from the ocean, nipples poking through triangle bikinis barely held together. It was teenage chaos in the best way.

Coming back now, as a staff member, felt surreal. I remembered all the stunts we pulled and now I was the one in charge of keeping kids in line.

My cabin was small but comfortable, a welcome luxury considering the kids were camping out in tents. Every night, the faint sound of a zipper would put all the leaders on edge, ready to catch whoever was sneaking out past lights-out.

I was prepping for arrivals when I saw her.

From a distance at first, her hair tied in a high ponytail, swaying as she tossed her head back and laughed. Her tiny waist hugged by a brown waist bag, sporty tights shaping the curve of her ass. I nearly looked away until I realized exactly who I was looking at.

Maddie.

Maddie and I had grown up at these camps. We only saw each other once a year, but every summer, what started as a preteen friendship turned into something far more electric. Each year we got bolder, riskier, constantly getting caught sneaking off together. I thought I genuinely loved her. But after that last camp, I never saw her again.

Seeing her now made me feel eighteen again. Every part of me wanted to scoop her up and kiss her. But the weight of my wedding ring burned on my hand.

Working at the camp hadn’t been my idea. I'm a primary school PE teacher, and my wife, Laura, thought it would be a great way to earn some vacation money while we tried for a baby. I wasn’t thrilled about a month away from home. Things between us had been tense since trying to conceive. Our whole relationship had become ovulation calendars, baby name lists, and perfectly timed missionary sex.

Secretly, I was burning for something different.

Maddie finally caught my eye. For a second, I thought she might not recognize me. I’d kept in decent shape, but still, fifteen years. Just as I assumed she’d forgotten, her face lit up with that same dazzling smile I used to dream about.

“Brady! No way!” she yelled, jogging over before leaping into my arms.

Her legs wrapped around my waist like old times, and I held her close. That scent, brown sugar and caramel, was still hers. It lingered on her skin and hit me like a punch to the chest.

I gently set her down, smiling, my gaze catching the massive diamond ring on her finger. With enough sun, that thing could fry an anthill. I, too, wore a ring. As much as I craved the past, I had to shove it aside.

Through the day, Maddie and I quickly fell into a rhythm. We ended up paired for most activities, taking groups of kids out together, laughing through instructions, teasing each other like nothing had changed.

At one point, I chastised a group of boys for whistling at her, only to turn around and see her stripping off her shirt to reveal a deep red bikini top that matched the color of her lips.

“Woooooo!” the teens hollered.

My face flushed hot.

Maddie smirked, leaning in. “Bringing back memories?”

My skin tingled as the memory hit me like a wave. Her body in a blue swimsuit, grinding on my lap as we kissed in the ocean. Salt and sweat mixing on our tongues, sixteen years old and desperate. We were caught, of course. Dragged apart for the day. But I’d never forgotten how that moment felt: bold, reckless, unforgettable.

She tossed her hair and ran into the water with the group.

This was going to be a very long month.

We were sitting at the beach bonfire, just the two of us. The kids had already settled into their tents for the night, and for the first time all week, we were alone.

“Do you remember the last bonfire?” she asked softly.

I didn’t need to ask which one. I remembered it too well.

We were caught that night, making out behind the fire, the smell of smoke in our hair, sand everywhere it shouldn’t have been. I’d invited her back to my tent, desperate to finally fuck her. Freshly eighteen, I thought this would be it. The moment. But she hesitated. Smiled. Said she wanted to explore the bike shed instead. I didn’t get it at the time. I thought she wasn’t ready. I kissed her goodnight and walked away, stomach twisted in disappointment.

“I remember,” I said, glancing at her. “Because it was the first time you rejected me.”

She looked stunned, then laughed. “That is absolutely not what happened.”

I laughed too, but she leaned in, lowering her voice.

“You seriously thought I was rejecting you? Brady, you idiot. Of course I wasn’t going to your tent. The leaders were watching us like hawks. But the bike shed? On the other side of camp? No one went near it.”

It hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Oh my god,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

We burst out laughing. Real, belly-aching laughter. The kind I hadn’t felt in years.

“Maddie, I thought you weren’t ready.”

“I was ready, Brady. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Not true. I’ve replayed that night a hundred times. Thought about everything I would’ve done to you if you’d come to my tent.”

The words slipped out too fast. I looked away, embarrassed.

She didn’t flinch. Just smiled, slow and knowing.

“I’m sure my fantasies were the same. Just in a bike shed instead of a tent.”

The air around us thickened. It hung heavy between us, hot and sticky and laced with every unsaid word.

“Do you think they still have it?” she whispered.

I tilted my head. “Have what?”

She grinned. “The bike shed.”

My pulse skipped. My mouth went dry. I should’ve said no. Should’ve laughed it off. Should’ve walked away.

Instead, I took her hand.

We didn’t speak as we walked. Just moved side by side through the dark, her fingers wrapped in mine. The camp was quiet, the only sounds our breathing and the occasional crunch of twigs underfoot.

“There,” she said, breathless.

It stood like a ghost from the past. Old, weathered wood. Rusted hinges. Yellow tape loosely draped across the entrance and a faded "no entry" sign nailed to the door.

We made eye contact.

We went in.

Inside, it was just like we remembered. Rusted bike racks, a pile of forgotten sandbags in the corner. Dust hanging in the air. The smell of oil and damp wood.

“I guess it’s still here,” I said quietly.

I didn’t let go of her hand.

She turned to face me, her other hand lifting to touch my mouth. Her finger traced my bottom lip, then slid up to stroke my cheek, tucking into my hair. I leaned into her, heart thundering.

“Technically,” she said, her voice low, “we would have fucked.”

I didn’t speak. Just stared into her eyes.

“So this,” she murmured, dropping her hand to the button of my jeans, “this is just what was always going to happen.”

She undid my pants quickly, tugging them down.

I reacted without thinking. I pulled her shirt off, unhooked her bra in one practiced motion. Her body was just as perfect as I remembered. Maybe even more so. Soft curves, flushed skin, nipples stiff from the cold air and anticipation.

She grabbed my face and kissed me. Hard. Her mouth on mine, hungry and desperate. I stumbled back onto the sandbags, and she climbed into my lap without hesitation. Her hips rolled against me, grinding slow, teasing pressure. My cock was rock hard, pressed right against her.

Her wedding ring tangled in my hair and I froze.

“Maddie, my wife...”

She pulled back, panting, chest rising and falling.

“Brady,” she said, “there are no wives here. No fiancés. We’re just kids again. Eighteen. It’s the last night of camp. And we,” she kissed me again, biting my lip this time, “will probably never see each other again.”

I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her closer, mouth on her nipples. Sucking, licking, teasing until she shrieked and arched into me. Her hips ground harder. Her breath hitched with every movement.

Then she slowed. Climbed off me.

Her eyes didn’t leave mine as she peeled off her tights and panties. Those pink lace ones I’d been eyeing all day. She dropped to her knees and pulled my briefs down, her gaze still locked on mine as she took my cock in her mouth.

I moaned. Loud.

She didn’t stop.

She worked her mouth up and down, hand stroking the base while her tongue swirled around the head. I held her head gently, following her rhythm, other hand gripping the sandbags for dear life.

I wouldn’t last.

I looked down. Her lips wrapped around my shaft, her eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed. I groaned as I came. Hard. Down her throat. Her eyes watered as she swallowed every drop.

When she pulled off, she smirked.

“I’ve missed that sound you make when you cum.”

I laughed, still dazed. “Maddie, I don’t think I ever made you cum.”

She giggled. “Probably not. But hey, I’m here for the ride.”

“Not this time,” I said, grinning.

I grabbed her and pulled her against me, flipping us so she was on her knees beside me, upright. I kissed her again, the salty taste of myself still lingering on her lips.

I traced kisses down her neck, to her breasts, my hands gripping her ass. She let out a soft moan, head falling back.

I guided her onto her knees, spreading them on either side of my face as I leaned back against the sandbags. Her pussy hovered just above me, and I dove in. Tongue flicking, sucking, licking. She cried out, grinding into my face as I devoured her.

Her taste. Her moans. Her shaking thighs. I was lost in her.

I slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right while I sucked her clit. Her whole body jolted. Breath caught. Eyes squeezed shut. I didn’t stop. Not until she was shuddering, crying out, soaking my face as she came hard.

She collapsed beside me, gasping.

“Hope you’re not done,” I said, wiping my mouth.

Her grin said everything.

We kissed again. Slower now but just as hungry. She climbed onto my lap, this time guiding me inside her. No teasing. No grinding.

Just raw, deep, aching need.

Her body wrapped around mine, hips moving slow at first, then faster. We moaned into each other’s mouths, our bodies slamming together, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the empty shed.

I rubbed her clit with one hand, holding her waist with the other. She was close. So was I.

She gasped, cried out, clenched around me.

I came with her. Hard, deep, full-body release. Our foreheads pressed together, panting, shaking, still holding on like we might float away.

We dressed slowly. Didn’t say much.

Outside, she kissed me once more, winked, and disappeared into her cabin.

I walked to mine in silence. The room felt emptier than it had all week. Her cum still slick on my dick as I sat down on the edge of the bed.

My phone lit up on the nightstand.

Twenty missed calls.

Hundreds of texts.

I picked it up.

“Brady, you’re going to be a daddy.”

Laura’s name filled the top of the screen.

Her smiling face stared back at me from the background.