Cindy shouldn’t be doing this.

That mantra was pounding inside her skull even now.

She was sitting on a table in the Arts And Crafts cabin, your head working between her thighs, one hand on her lower back for support, the other holding right hand.

Her perpetually-pristine polo was uncharacteristically untucked, and her jean shirt were around her ankles- accompanied by her panties.

When Cindy hit her climax, her hand gripping yours hard. Your thumb smoothed over her knuckles even now- for a Shadysider you were sweet.

Her breathing picked up and her eyes screwed shut, and then she started to come down. The second you felt her coming down, you got up.

Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you stood between her legs. You pushed her hair behind her ear, eyes soft, and she caught your wrist. Cindy kissed the inside of it, and you broke out in a smile that showed off your dimples.

Cindy’s smile was softer, more tentative, but still there. Quietly, you handed her the discarded underwear and shorts.

“Could you-” She started to ask, but you cut her off and kissed her forehead.

“Turn around? Sure.” You replied, turning around. Sometimes you wished she would let you see her, but you knew it wouldn’t.

The first thing she said after your first time together, was, “I’m still a virgin. Girls don’t count.” Naturally, you were a little hurt.

But at the end of the day, you were you and Cindy Burman was Cindy fucking Berman- she refused to even curse.

Cindy was a goody-two-shoes- it had taken so much convincing to get her to pass up her Counsellor duties of supervising Sunnyvale’s Capture The Flag team to spend time with you.

But loving Cindy Burman was like that- quiet, stolen moments of affection, and then the cool facade of rivals.