Date: Sat, 26 May 2018 21:22:42 +0000
From: Zack McNaught <zackmcnaught@hotmail.com>
Subject: Danny Pitches a Tent

Disclaimer: this never happened. I write dramas, not documentaries.

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Warning: there's sex, and plenty of it, involving a man and a boy. Because,
let's face it, you'd be disappointed if there wasn't.


Danny Pitches a Tent

It's a pretty stale old Nifty stereotype: young boy gets taken camping by
some relation or friend of the family, and they end up getting it on. If
you go by the frequency of stories on Nifty bearing basically that
plot-line, you'd imagine that boys and men are practically incapable of
sharing a tent without something untoward happening.

That's not reflective of the real world, of course, but here's the thing:
there is definitely something about going camping which brings out the
horny side of most boys. Perhaps it's the fact you sleep so close together,
or that with only one space to occupy, there are more occasions when the
intimate parts of your daily routine are shared. Whatever it is, boys get
damned horny when they're camping. Fact.

The manner in which I lured poor, innocent Danny into my tent was quite
straightforward. I happened to have been living in his house for some time
as a sort of live-in pseudo-uncle. Being established in that role in
Danny's life, it was dead easy to snare him. In fact, his mother
practically threw him at me and begged me to molest the boy.

Of course she didn't! She did nothing of the sort. She certainly wouldn't
have wanted anything to happen to him, and if she thought for a second that
she couldn't trust me with him, she'd probably have gone for my balls with
a carving knife.

No, ours was seemingly an innocent relationship, a facade so solid that
even I had no idea anything was going to happen. I knew I was gay, and I'd
sometimes fancied teenaged boys, but a preteen? Get out.

I had no familial connection to Danny, but I was always 'Uncle Zack' to
him. I was his mother's best friend at university, and continued to be so
after we both graduated. Liz and I drifted apart a little as time went on,
but we remained close on those occasions we could meet up.

So, I was there when she met Paul, and I was one of the first she text when
she fell pregnant, and I was there the day they left hospital with Danny.

I was also there when Paul decided that he couldn't cope with the idea of
fatherhood, and left Liz in the lurch with a big mortgage and a two year
old boy.

But then, Liz was there when my long-term relationship fell apart because
of my partner's increasing use of cocaine (fucking media types!), and it
was her spare room to which I fled when I had to get out. It was that same
spare room that I began to rent from her, in order to solve two problems in
one: my lack of accommodation, and her inability to pay the mortgage. Being
a writer, I was also well-placed as a live in manny for Danny, and took to
the role in a way I never thought likely.

The fact that I was a bit like a spare uncle for Danny made it even more
shocking what happened to us all those years later.

---

I moved out about the time Danny turned six. Liz was in a new relationship,
this time with a fantastic bloke by the name of Will, who was all the dad
Danny ever needed, and all the man Liz ever wanted. He was a bit dull, a
bit middle-of-the-road, but he was a bloody good bloke and clearly cared
for them both.

So, I moved out, but we were still pretty close. Danny had become attached
to me, and Liz insisted that I find the time to continue seeing him, since
I was just about the only stable male presence in his life between the ages
of two and six. Will, who had by this time moved into the family home, was
fully supportive, and so I was there at least once a week, and would often
take Danny out somewhere at the weekends. I was like a brother to Will and
Liz, and very much Danny's uncle. I think Will's parents were a bit
confused by the idea - if not actively put off by my homosexuality - but
Liz's only surviving parent, her mum, was totally on board, and in fact she
and I became quite close.

When Danny was little, it was not unusual for me to see him naked. I didn't
have any inappropriate feelings for him when he was so small, although I
couldn't help thinking he looked rather cute in his birthday suit. As a
natural nudist, Danny would spend as much of his time in as little clothing
as possible. I would even see him fairly regularly sitting on the sofa with
his hand absentmindedly tugging at a little erection, but there was nothing
sexual in that, it was just a comfort thing.

Rather without me realising, all that started to change when Danny was
about seven. I hardly even noticed the fact that he was no longer naked
after bath time, or that I no longer noticed him playing with his penis in
the living room. It was only a passing comment from Liz to Will one
afternoon that alerted me to the change.

"That talk worked, I think," she said to him. "I wish we hadn't had to,
though."

I was intrigued, and Liz noticed that I had lifted my head from the
newspaper I was reading. She gave me a little frown and a shake of the
head, and then waited until Will was out of the room before she spoke to
me.

"It's nothing, really," she said, "and I don't think Will would be that
bothered, but don't let him know I told you. We had to have a talk with
Danny about playing with himself outside his room. He was doing it at
school and his teacher saw. We thought maybe it was best if he isn't naked
around the house after his bath, either. Would you mind policing it for us?
Danny's pretty good when we tell him to do something, but sometimes he
needs reminding."

"Yes, of course. I don't mind at all," I said, and left it there.

---

The suddenly illicit nature of Danny's nudity changed something in me
though. I was by no means a boylover. Or, at least, I had no idea that it
was lurking inside me. I'd wanked off to some twinks on the net before, but
then I'd always liked my men smooth, not beary. And not pre-pubertal
either.

But because he wasn't meant to be naked so much, I felt a hint of a thrill
each time I saw him. The frequency of in-the-buff moments was significantly
reduced, but that just meant that every occasion was memorable. I'd take
him swimming sometimes, and we would change together in a family stall, and
I would see him briefly then. Or, when I took him out to events, like a
football match, we would always go to the gents at the same time, so he
didn't have to go on his own, and until he was about nine, he'd always join
me at the urinals. I would take a peek, just because the opportunities for
seeing it were so reduced.

I didn't even think of it as voyeuristic. I didn't even think to myself
'what the hell are you doing?', because I didn't join the dots. I wasn't
thinking to myself that I was hoping something would happen with Danny,
there was nothing that strategic in my actions. For the same reason, I
didn't really think a lot of it when Danny started to get changed in his
own cubicle at swimming, or took to entering a cubicle in the gents rather
than standing with his dick out at the urinal.

It was just the way it was, and I didn't think I missed it that much. But
something inside had changed, and it would take some time to come to the
surface.

---

Danny and I had a bit of a tradition - each summer holiday since he started
school, we went away for a week camping. It was something which started
simply as a means to help out Liz with the holidays, but evolved into
something that neither Danny nor I would miss. This would be our fifth year
under canvas, and I always looked forward to our time away together. It was
quite an earthy experience, usually, and I loved that. The year before we'd
wild camped, which was interesting, but also pretty taxing, so this year we
had dialled it back a little. Not all the way, mind - this was no glamping
experience.

We chose a campsite in the Lake District which was frequented by the
Scouts. I still had links with the organisation - though I'd stopped being
actively involved many years before - and had been tipped off about the
place by a friend. It wasn't exactly open for public bookings, but if you
were involved with the organisation they'd let you stay. That meant that
you could be fairly certain of the people you found there; they wouldn't be
the kind who stayed up late playing music and getting drunk, and letting
their untrained dogs and feral kids run loose. There would be plenty of
nice, well-behaved Scouts (well, mostly...) and very little in the way of
trouble.

Having gone for somewhere a bit tamer this time around - it even had a
shower block! - we also decided to stay a little longer, and we'd be there
for two weeks in all. As it would turn out, that was just about enough time
for everything to change between us.

---

The very first little sign that our relationship had evolved came on the
way to the campsite. It was a six hour drive in my rusty old Beetle, and so
we made plenty of stops to prevent ourselves going mad.

At one of the service stations, we both made a beeline for the
gents. Danny, unusually for him, followed me straight up to a urinal,
unzipped and pulled it out. I looked down at him instinctively, and
although he had seen mine plenty of times when changing at the swimming
pool, or sharing a shower when camping, he, too, looked over.

What had changed? Why was it that now, as I glanced across at his pale
little tube of flesh, with its bunch of foreskin at the end, that I felt a
lurch in my chest as my heart beat faster? Was it the fact that he had
clearly been piss-stiff before he'd started? Was it that he'd deliberately
and with no effort to hide it taken a good look at my dick?

I dwelled on it as we drove along. Danny was tired of the journey, and
stared out of the window, so I didn't have to try to hold a conversation
while hiding the fact that I was obsessing slightly over what had just
happened. I kept seeing it in my mind's eye - his little willy, small but
so perfectly formed, just sitting there poking out of the fly of his
jeans. How come it had meant so little when I saw it two months ago at the
swimming pool, but so much now?

I looked at Danny, and started to see a different boy. Puberty was still
waiting in the wings, of course, and wouldn't change him a great deal for
several more years, but there was certainly something about him which had
piqued my interest. His new haircut, perhaps, or a change in his manner? I
tried to recall the conversations we'd had that morning, and for the few
days prior to leaving, but nothing really jumped out at me. The only
incident which might have raised a flag in my mind was about a week before
our trip, when I'd gone around to his house for dinner in the
evening. After we ate, Danny had gone and showered and got into his pyjamas
- a onesie, as it happened - on the promise of then staying up and watching
a film with me while his mum went and got on with some housework.

Danny had been a bit of a live-wire all evening, and that didn't change
while we watched the film. It had been years since he last played with his
willy out in the open, but perhaps the fact that he was nearing puberty had
made it more attractive again. Whatever the reason, though, he couldn't
keep his hands out of his lap, and I would have had to be blind not to
notice that he quickly pitched a little tent in the front of the onesie. He
noticed me noticing, and grabbed it by the base, presenting me with a
fabric-wrapped erection of no great size, but plenty of apparent
stiffness. For a ten year old boy, that was the most sophisticated humour
possible, and he collapsed into fits of giggles at what he had done.

At the time, I laughed, and chalked it up to youthful high spirits, and
though I felt a slight lurch in my stomach when it happened, I put that
down to the fact that it was so illicit, and reminded me so much of the
naughty things I had done in my youth. I certainly didn't imagine for a
second that I was feeling any kind of sexual attraction to Danny, but now,
as we drove along the motorway and I thought back to the incident, I
started to see things differently.

Funnily enough, discovering that there was a certain something about Danny
which attracted me to him wasn't as disturbing as maybe it ought to have
been. I could rationalise it away. He looked like the kind of boy who was
going to turn into a handsome lad, so perhaps I was just latching onto
that. The man he would become, judging my his dad's looks, was someone I
would definitely find attractive. And there was the fact that I hadn't got
laid for quite a while. That had left me horny, and frustrated, and already
taking an interest in men I really shouldn't have, let alone boys.

So yeah, I could rationalise it away. Except for the fact that I didn't
really believe my own bullshit. This was something different. Even as we
drove along I could feel things changing. I started to get butterflies just
glancing across at him. Had his little pixie ears always looked so
kissable? And his neck? Oh God, how I wanted to get my lips on that...

I snapped back to the road. We'd started drifting, and had reached the
rumble strip at the side of the lane, and there was a hell of a racket in
the car. Danny looked across at me with a frown, and I faked a shrug.

"Big gust of wind," I said. "Skinny tires on the car. Means we get blown
about a lot."

Danny managed a shrug of his own, and went back to looking out of the
window, while I berated myself for being so easily distracted. To be fair,
though, that neck...

---

We arrived at the campsite in the early afternoon, and though it had been a
warm day, clouds were beginning to gather above us. We were well-practised
pitching the tent by now, and it was up and full of our stuff inside
fifteen minutes. That, it turned out, was just in time, because as I walked
back to the tent from where I'd parked the car, the first big, fat drops of
rain were falling.

Danny was waiting for me, frantically beckoning me towards the tent. I
don't know why he thought he knew something I didn't - after all, I was the
one out in the rain getting wet - but he carried on nonetheless. In fact,
he was so worried that I decided to take the piss a bit, slowing down and
looking around me for imaginary dangers.

"Come on, Uncle Zack!" he shouted. "I heard thunder! You'll get hit by
lightning."

I knew that, with plenty of other, taller things around me, and no trees
too close, I was fairly safe. The only metal I had on me was on a keyring
in my pocket, so it wasn't like I was swinging around a golf club or
anything. So I carried on with my stupid act, feeling the rain beginning to
soak my t-shirt. Luckily I only had flip-flops on my feet, not trainers,
and everything else would dry quickly enough when the sun came back out, so
I didn't mind one bit getting soaked through to the skin.

By now, Danny was wracked with nervous giggles.

"Come on!" he urged, again, but I pretended not to hear him properly,
cupping my hand to my ear.

"Sorry, Danny. What did you say? You'll have to come closer!" I called
back. I started doing a little dance in the rain, as if it was the best fun
in the world.

Danny laughed a little more, but I could see he was thinking, too. I saw
him roll onto his back and push off his trainers and socks, and then
suddenly he was dancing out into the rain with me. His yellow t-shirt
darkened immediately in the torrential rain, and by the time he had joined
me in my silly little jig, it was plastered to his body.

We had the best fun, laughing, giggling, pushing each other around, until
Danny managed to catch me off guard and pushed me over into the mud. I was
instantly covered, and couldn't let that slide, so I lunged for him and
pulled him down with me, in the process pulling his shorts half way down
his thighs, and his pants half way down his bum. He shrieked and rolled
away from me, desperately trying to pull up his clothes, and came to a
rest, breathing heavily and still occasionally giggling. The rain had been
hammering down for about ten minutes by this point, and obviously had worn
itself out, because as we sat there facing each other it dwindled and
stopped altogether. A moment later, we were bathed in sunshine.

"I think we might need to check out the shower block now," I said, and got
another giggle from Danny. "Don't bother getting your things, let's just go
under like this."

With a nod he hopped up, and with a truce declared we walked side by side
towards the showers, only occasionally bumping and shoving each other. We
passed a troop of Scouts coming back to camp, who were as soaked as us but
considerably less muddy. Their leader greeted us warmly, but we did get a
few strange looks from some of the boys.

The showers were free - which was fantastic - but not plentiful. There were
in fact only three stalls, and two of them were currently being serviced by
a handyman, who looked to be reattaching hooks and, in one case, the entire
door.

"You're alright to use that one, if you like," he said, pointing to the end
cubicle.

I looked at Danny, and he looked back at me and shrugged, heading straight
for the cubicle. I assumed that meant he had decided to go first, but when
he neared the door he looked over his shoulder with a confused
frown. Twigging instantly what was up, and not wishing to even hint at
passing up the opportunity, I very quickly joined him.

Of course, it wasn't as if we were planning to get naked - we had already
agreed we were only there to get the mud off ourselves and out of the
clothes - but it was still a rather fun experience to be cooped up in there
with Danny. The water was hot, and the mud soon started to wash away. But
the dirt wasn't just on the outside of our clothes, it was
everywhere. Danny pulled out the waistband of his shorts and let the water
run down inside, but even that wasn't enough, and with some effort he
pulled off both them and his pants, and stood there rinsing them out in the
water.

This wasn't the first time I'd showered with Danny; as he had grown up, I'd
played the role of a parent getting him clean at the swimming pool, or on
previous camping holidays, and at the time I'd not thought much of it. But
of course this was completely different, because my feelings towards him
were starting to change. Here I was with a boy on whom I was developing a
serious crush, and he was standing in a shower cubicle with me, naked from
the waist down. His little ball sack was drawn tight up underneath his
dick, which itself was shrivelled down pretty small. Both, though, were
beginning to relax in the warm water.

"Haven't you got mud in your shorts?" he asked, with a wry little grin,
breaking me out of my reverie. I'd been standing there watching him. Or
rather, watching his floppy little worm of a dick bouncing around. It
looked lovely with the water running off its tip.

"Oh, yeah, I suppose so."

I tried to be as nonchalant as I could about the fact that I was taking my
shorts off, but an unexpected flurry of butterflies was making a nuisance
of itself in my stomach, and I fumbled around like an idiot. Danny would
probably have laughed at my ineptitude had he not been staring so intently
at my crotch, and just like in the toilets at the service station, it was
apparent that I wasn't the only one suddenly paying attention to things
they'd previously taken for granted.

With my shorts finally off, there was no chance of hiding the fact that I
was already half hard, and rapidly heading towards the full deal. Danny was
unabashedly staring at it, which gave me a fairly decent excuse to stare
back, and to notice the way his hand drifted down to tug absentmindedly at
what was a dangly little boy dick, but which - in the space of no more than
a handful of heartbeats - rapidly became a rather stiff little spike.

We were both entranced, each as shocked and intrigued as the other by what
was happening. Neither of us was standing wholly under the narrow stream
from the shower, but as my manhood reached its (admittedly modest) full
length, its tip was hammered by the flow of water. Danny's, too, was
pointing skywards, much more rigidly than my own, in the way that young
boys' erections typically are. He pushed his hips forwards until its tip,
like mine, was bathed in the hot waterfall. There was a grin on his lips
and something approaching lust in his eyes, and his bottom lips was
quivering - not with cold, but with nerves.

My mind was racing, thinking 'what next?', but we were suddenly interrupted
by the banging open of the outer door and several loud, young voices. The
stall next to ours and the one next to that were suddenly occupied, and the
chatter outside in the rest of the shower block indicated that one or other
of the groups of Scouts on the site had arrived to take their showers. It
was a strange time for it to happen - mid afternoon - but I suppose they
were just trying to find a quiet time.

Danny put his hand over his mouth in shock, and tried to suppress a
giggle. There we were with rapidly deflating erections, stood in a shower
cubicle together with a bunch of Scouts just outside the door. With a shrug
much like the one he'd made a few minutes earlier, Danny struggled his way
into his wet shorts. I did the same, stuffing my still somewhat engorged
member in at an uncomfortable angle, and we exited the stall.

If any of the Scouts were surprised to find us in there together, or indeed
surprised that we were wearing sodden clothes, they didn't show it.

---

Back at the tent, Danny didn't hesitate to get back out of the wet clothes,
this time not stopping until he was naked. The day had heated up outside
again, and that left the tent roasting hot, even with all the vents open,
and so Danny clearly made the executive decision that staying naked was the
best policy for getting dry but not getting too hot. It was almost
irresistibly logical.

Somehow, though, despite my hormones tell me to get nude like him and stay
that way, I managed to be the grown-up and get some shorts on, even though
I remained topless. I fired off a quick text to Liz to let her know we were
safe and well, and then lay down on my sleeping bag and looked across at
Danny.

The little strip of boy god was lying on his own bed with his own phone,
presumably texting his mates or playing on of the hundreds of inane little
game he played. Or Snapchatting. I really hoped he wasn't doing that, given
his state of undress, but then I suppose the selfie camera would only have
recorded his upper body nudity, not the bit below, so perhaps it wasn't
that bad.

Because he was so engrossed with his phone, I was able to observe him
properly. He was a fit, lithe young lad, probably a bit stronger and fitter
than a lot of his friends because of his love of football, which he played
near constantly. He had the barest hint of a six-pack, and his abdomen was
generally well-muscled enough that the V of his crotch stood out. His dick,
now hanging limply in the heat of the tent, on top of an equally flaccid
scrotum, was somewhat bigger than my memories of it, and his balls looked
plumper, too. All of this ignored the fact that he was a very cute boy,
with a shaggy mop of what was sometimes brown hair, but had bleached rather
lighter than that in the sun.

All in all, I was rather smitten with him. And, I realised, growing hard in
my shorts. Again! I needed to get out of there, and I needed to do
something about my horniness. Wanking off in the toilets wasn't a favourite
pass-time of mine (despite what they say about gay guys and cottages) but
it would have to do. Making my excuses to Danny, I disappeared off to deal
with my issue.

For reasons I found embarrassing and disturbing, but also intriguing, the
presence of a number of boys in the shower block and toilets made the task
particularly efficient.

---

Having relieved the pressure in my groin, I took a walk around the campsite
to think things over. I had a sense that I should be ashamed by my
behaviour, but at the same time I couldn't remember exactly when I had
initiated things. Danny had unexpectedly joined me at the urinals. Danny
had pushed me over in the mud, Danny had suggested I go into the shower
cubicle with him, and Danny had pulled off his shorts with a cheeky grin.

I knew none of that meant Danny was in any way interested in me. I was also
smart enough to realise that justifying things to myself like this was a
classic sign of denial that I had done anything wrong. If you wanted to be
utterly strict about it, you could suggest that I shouldn't have gone into
the shower with him. Or that I should have made him cover up in the
tent. But then at the same time, if my intentions were as innocent as
society would prefer they were, why should either of those things matter?
There was nothing inherently sexual about either getting clean together, or
sitting naked in a hot tent.

I went back and forth in my mind with the arguments, getting no closer to a
truth I believed in. I wasn't a predator, I just wasn't. Danny wasn't a
little 10-year-old slut either. I hadn't corrupted him in any way I could
understand, but then maybe I hadn't controlled him either.

I made the resolution as I walked back to the tent that nothing more
untoward would happen between Danny and I for the remainder of our holiday.

The resolution lasted just as long as it took for me to reached the tent,
open the zip and see Danny there lying on his tummy, gorgeous little bum
sticking up in the air and plump little pouch just visible between his
legs.

Shit.

---

I finally managed to persuade him to put enough clothes on to be decent a
little later, but as the evening drew in and we set up the stove to get
some food cooked, Danny still sat around in just a loose pair of
shorts. Weather-wise he was fine, but sitting in his camp chair with his
legs wide apart, everything was on display.

I tried not to look. In fact, I turned the other way, just at the right
time to see one of the Scout leaders from the nearest troop walking past
with his eyes locked in Danny's crotch. He realised he was being watched,
and gave me a guilty, half apologetic look before rushing on. It was the
kind of thing I would hardly have noticed before, but now I thought to
myself, 'yep, I know your game, mate.'

I wondered how many of his troop he had taken a shine to, and whether I
needed to say something. But then, what would I say?

I returned my gaze to my young charge, who had thankfully covered himself
up a bit. But my heart still beat faster every time I looked at him. There
was an undeniable tension between us now. A sexual tension. A flag on each
side which said 'I'm interested in doing naughty things with you.'

I no longer considered it possible that Danny was being naive and
innocent. He knew, at least on some level, what he was up to. He was trying
to indicate his availability. His behaviour was totally out of character,
and that was the only explanation I could fathom.

It was up to me to resist, of course. I was in the position of power and
couldn't possibly take advantage of him. Something had awoken in Danny, and
he was desperate to act on it, apparently with me, but I had to be the
responsible adult and prevent it. I had a duty to do the right thing by
him.

My God it was hard, though. He had taken to giving me little touches on the
arm, and his hot little fingers burned like a brand on my skin. He leaned
into me all the time, too, whenever we were standing beside one another. He
hugged me more than he had before, and he sprung little stiffies all the
time, which he made absolutely no effort to hide from me, though he was
very careful not to show the rest of the campsite.

He might as well have been wearing a skinny little t-shirt saying 'I'm all
yours.' Except that it wouldn't have left him topless, as he seemed
determined to remain, even when a cool evening breeze made his nipples
stiff and raised goosebumps along his arms.

Somehow we managed to end up in our own sleeping bags that night, and
stayed that way until dawn. Some time in the very darkest part of the night
I was awoken by something, and realised that it was the rhythmic huffing of
a boy wanking off. Yup, Danny was horny alright.

I did my best to pretend I was still asleep, and genuinely drifted off
before he was finished.

---

Morning brought with it sunshine, heat and wood, for both of us. I was
doing a better job of hiding it because, unlike Danny, I wasn't lying on my
back with my hard-on sticking out through the fly of my boxers. He was
still asleep when I woke, and I just lay there for a while watching
him. One arm was draped across his face, presenting me with the most
detailed view I could have asked for of his smooth armpit; not exactly a
fetish of mine, but it was fascinating to see it so barren of hair when in
a few short years it would be sprouting a little forest.

Speaking of sprouting, my eyes didn't linger long there, because there was
something far more interesting to be looking at. Danny's stiffy was about
four inches long, and looked outsized on his lithe little body. I had the
feeling it was a rather impressive size for his age, but I really didn't
have anything to go on. These days, of course, I know that it was on the
large size of normal, with girth to match. It was dead straight, and stuck
up at exactly the right angle for firing cum all over his own chest, had he
been able. This was something I was a little more knowledgable on - there
was no chance he was shooting yet, not at his age. The tip of his spike was
wrapped in foreskin, which just about closed around the head to hide it
from my view. The skin of his dick, which was pale and translucent all over
- and revealed a network of blue veins - was tinged pink right at its tip.

I could have looked at it for hours, except that nature called. Hiding my
morning glory beneath the hem of a long hoodie (always take one with you
for just such an occasion...), I scrambled out of the tent and walked
across the dew-laden grass to the shower block. It was already mostly full
with boys from the various Scout troops camping at the site, and I wandered
through the throng of them waiting for the showers, and to the urinals.

It was just a fluke, but I arrived at the same time as two young boys, one
slightly older looking than Danny, and one perhaps a bit younger. They
might all have fitted into the same year at school, though. I wouldn't have
paid them the slightest heed before, but now I was determined to get a
glimpse of their willies, if I could possibly manage it.

I tried glancing across at the older boy first. No stream of urine from him
yet, but he was also hunched over and turned away from me, and so there was
no hope of any peeking. Not so the younger boy, on my left. He was a little
freckle-faced lad with blonde hair with just a hint of ginger in it. And he
was standing there with one hand holding down the waistband of his pyjamas
and the other grasping the base of a little boy boner, from which was
splattering a messy fountain of wee.

He was utterly unabashed, and too absorbed in looking down to notice my
lustful gaze. His boyhood was definitely much smaller than Danny's, but it
was just as beautiful. Such pale, alabaster skin was set off by a bright
pink, almost crimson fold of skin at the top. It was perhaps somewhere
between two and three inches long, and the head flared inside its
protective covering. I found myself having to swallow as thoughts of
sucking it led my mouth to flood with saliva.

I reckon I was looking for no more than ten seconds before the stream dried
up in a flash, and the boy was gone, letting the waistband of his tracksuit
trousers slap back against his lower belly as he turned away from the
urinal. I glanced back to my right, and the other kid was leaving, too, and
I was all alone, shaking with nervous excitement at what I'd just
seen. Something truly had changed in me - my experiences with a growingly
horny Danny had opened the floodgates, releasing feelings I'd dammed up
inside for who knows how long. Now I could hardly look at a boy without
feeling some kind of thrill.

I walked back to the tent in a daze, shaken by the experience in several
ways.

By the time I opened the zip to the tent, Danny was awake and sitting up,
playing with his phone. He'd covered himself back up, and gave me a shy
little grin, with a hint of embarrassment. Presumably he'd realised he was
hanging out of his shorts, though why he should show any modesty after the
previous day's display was a little beyond me. But, of course, sometimes
boys are horny, and sometimes they aren't, and this was clearly one of
those times he wasn't.

Danny was an utterly standard ten year old boy in one sense: his stomach
ruled the roost. When he was hungry, that was pretty much all he could
think about. I started getting things ready - a proper camp breakfast of
fried bacon in rolls - and rather than going and relieving the pressure in
his bladder, Danny stood there squeezing his dick and watching me cook.

"Danny, it's going to be about five minutes at least. Go and have a piss,
mate."

Reluctantly, he scampered off to the toilets, and was back sooner than I
thought was even possible. But he was no longer looking quite so
distracted, so I suppose he must have done his business. We sat down
together in the bright morning sun and munched on bacon rolls, and both
felt that all was well with the world.

When we were done, I sent Danny off to have a shower, and went to wash up
the pans. He must have showered as quickly as he pissed, because I was
still only half way through when he came back, smelling rather nicer and
still damp-haired. He took over the washing up so I could go and shower
myself, and I smiled to myself as I walked away - there aren't too many ten
year old lads who would offer that without being asked.

I had strapped our bikes to the back of the Beetle (which hadn't been
thankful for the extra load), and for the first day, as we would for most
of the fortnight, we headed off on the trails. I was able to achieve a
little more peace as we pedalled along. For a while it seemed like things
were back to normal, and the playful horniness Danny had displayed the day
before had dissipated, which left me less likely to fall prey to the
desires I was trying to keep under wraps.

It carried on that way all day long, and into the next, too. Danny was his
normal self - there were no joint visits to the urinals, he didn't feel the
need to lie around stark naked in the tent and not once did he flash his
privates at a passing Scout leader down the leg of his shorts. It was as if
horny Danny had gone away again, and though in some ways I missed the
excitement, I could also happily live without the temptation. It was far
easier to be a better person when I wasn't constantly having to fight
against my baser instincts.

It was all going so well until the night by the campfire...

We'd been invited by one of the Scout troops to join them around the
massive fire they were building. Open fires aren't that common on campsites
these days - for fairly sensible reasons - but there was a fire pit, and
the boys (and smattering of girls) had been collecting wood all day in
anticipation. They'd ended up building something akin to a funeral pyre,
but the fire pit was well maintained and easily able to handle the ensuing
conflagration, and so by about nine in the evening it was all going
well. Sausages had been cooked on sticks, marshmallows had followed, and
though no-one had yet broken into song, the kids had actually all behaved
nicely.

Now, as the air grew cold under a clear night sky, we found ourselves
huddled around the dying embers of the fire, wrapped in blankets and
unzipped sleeping bags. We were a huddled mass, with excited chatter still
running around the group, but also with an increasing number of immobile,
yawning children.

Danny had crawled into my lap and wrapped my huge blanket around both of
us, rather than bothering to go back to the tent for his own, and so there
I sat with a warm, cuddly boy in my lap, wondering if perhaps I'd died at
some point in the last few days, but hadn't yet realised I was in paradise.

Danny, for his part, was very comfortable, too. He nuzzled into my neck,
and when he thought no-one else was looking, would give me little pecks on
the cheek. He had often been quite a physically affectionate boy in the
past, so I wasn't exactly surprised, but it had been a long time since he'd
done something like this. He acted as if he was half asleep, which I
suppose he was, somewhere in the drowsy state between fully awake and
slumbering. His movements were languid, and he was completely relaxed
against me.

At one point, with the blanket covering us, he reached for my hands and
held them in his own, drawing them into his lap so that I was hugging
him. He narrowed his eyes, rubbed his cheek on my upper arm, and almost
purred in contentment. Then he fell mostly still, except for the gentle
rubbing of a thumb across the back of my hand.

Then I felt movement against my palm, and I assumed he was pressing a
finger against it. The pressure mounted and Danny shifted a little, and the
little protuberance also moved, so that it was pointing towards his
stomach. I realised with a start that what I was feeling was not in fact
his finger. Or, at least, not one of the fingers attached to his
hands. This was a different variety of digit altogether.

Danny knew what he was doing, of that I was certain. The only thing I
wasn't sure about was whether or not he realised that I knew exactly what
he was doing. He pressed my hands down into his crotch, and his little bum
cheeks clenched as he pushed his stiff little nail into my palm. He made a
strangled little whimpering noise in the back of his throat once or twice,
and then huffed cutely on each thrust. The huffs became gentle moans as he
wriggled and stretched his legs, and humped over and over into my palm.

A minute later, his whole body suddenly stiffened, and he whimpered and
shook all over, and pressed even harder down on my hands, and Danny came. I
could feel the pulse of his dick kicking once, twice, three times. He
twisted away from my hands, burying his face in the crook of my neck, and
grabbed me into a sudden hug as he continued to shake with aftershocks. I
held him to me as he came down, and kissed the top of his head.

---

Danny was a rag-doll, stumbling back to the tent with my arm around his
shoulders. It was nearly ten o'clock, and we'd had a long day cycling
before the evening by the fire, and of course, Danny had just cum, and cum
hard. I still didn't know, as we wandered along, whether he thought he had
got away with masturbating using my hand. I didn't think it was likely, but
nor did I think he had particularly set out to do it. No, it was most
likely that although he knew exactly what he was up to, he was too horny to
admit it, even to himself. It would be easier to ignore what had happened,
to pretend that neither of us knew anything about it.

I was happy with the fiction. I felt like I had just got as close as it was
possible to get to touching him without doing so explicitly. I was a
completely passive participant, so Danny couldn't claim that I'd molested
him. Perhaps I could have stopped him, but plausible deniability was
mine. That sounds very mercenary, but it comes from a position of care -
whatever happened (or didn't) between us in these two weeks, I was
desperate that Danny didn't come to see me as his abuser.

He allowed me to help undress him, and I have to admit that I took a good
long look at his somewhat distended family jewels as I did so. Danny was
both tired and recently relieved, and paid no attention to the attention I
was paying to him. I tucked him into his sleeping bag, and I'm pretty sure
he was asleep before I left the tent.

Once again, I trudged across to the toilets to find my relief. A boy was at
the urinals, and for the briefest moment I considered joining him, but
really it was Danny I wanted, and so I stopped myself and went into a stall
instead.

---

If Danny was embarrassed about what had happened the night before, he
showed no sign of it in the morning. He leapt out of bed, having clearly
slept well, and bundled on to my sleeping bag. I rolled onto my back,
trying to throw him off, but he was far too agile, and by the time I was on
my back he was sitting on my morning erection.

He was about to say something, but it died on his lips. He rocked his hips
a little, experimentally, and I couldn't help but groan at the sensation.

"Need a wee?" he asked, with an evil glint in his eye.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," I snarled back at him.

"Yours is really big, you know," he continued, in a far quieter voice. "It
feels massive."

"It's not that big. It's actually a bit small."

"Bigger than mine. Wanna see?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. Not truthfully, not unless I wanted to say
something that would get me in a lot of trouble. Danny didn't care. Danny
wasn't going to wait for an answer. He got up on his knees, pulled down the
front of his boxers, and there it was.

I'd seen it, of course. That morning a couple of days before where it was
sticking out of his fly, I'd spent quite a while studying it. But somehow
this was different. This was Danny showing me, inviting me to look. I
hadn't seen his smooth, bare crotch, or the tight, wrinkled pouch if his
scrotum. I hadn't seen him skin it back, I hadn't seen the damp head (my
God, was that precum?!), and I hadn't seen the way it slapped against his
tummy when he pulled it down and let it go.

"Fuck," I breathed, and then covered my mouth with my hand. "Sorry, I
shouldn't have said that."

"Touch it," Danny demanded, ignoring my bad language. "Please. I want you
to."

Too much. Far too much. I couldn't take it any longer. I couldn't be the
adult and resist him any more. He was tempting and tempting me, until it
was too hard for me to refuse. And so I didn't.

God, it was hot in my hand. A little spike of hot, silk-wrapped steel,
tacky with his sweat, and yes, a little precum, which pulled out in a
string from the tip when I put my finger to it and pulled it away. Danny
gasped, and made a desperate little mewling noise when I touched him. He
was so horny, so ready for this. His dick somehow stiffened even further,
despite the fact that it already looked like it might snap off if I didn't
handle it carefully.

I knew what he wanted, and I wasn't going to take my time teasing
him. Grasping foreskin between fingers and thumb, I set to wanking him off,
using all the expertise that my years of extra experience had given
me. Danny closed his eyes and leaned back on one arm, while he held down
the front of his boxers with the other thumb.

I would have suggested he take the boxers off, but I never got the
chance. Danny was either a very horny boy already, or just had a hair
trigger, because I'd hardly started wanking him before his tummy muscles
tensed, his head fell forward, and he grabbed my hand in a fist around his
dick, holding tight as it twitched against my palm.

He hung his head there for a long time, it seemed, while my hand still held
onto his deflating prick. When he finally looked up at me, there were
unshed tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed, and turned to get off me. I couldn't let him
feel that he had done wrong, that just wouldn't be right, so I grabbed him
and pulled him to me, and hugged him tight as he wept on my shoulder.

---

"I saw how to do it on the internet the first time," he said, as we sat
looking out over a deserted lake. We were about an hour's ride from the
campsite. Danny had seemed to need to get away from the place, so we didn't
bother showering before we left, just chucked on some clothes and got out
of there. Now, we were sat by the side of the trail, while Danny poured his
heart out to me.

"I thought there were filters on the computer, and stuff," I said, showing
off just how naive I really was. Danny looked at me sidelong.

"Mum's too lazy," he said. "She made me log onto something for her once,
and I reckoned she would just use the same password for everything. Turns
out she does, including the filters. I can watch anything I like."

"I should tell her that," I said, disapprovingly.

For a moment, he looked a little panicked, and then remembered what had
happened that morning, and his expression morphed into a grin. "Go ahead,"
he replied. "I'll tell her what you did this morning."

I knew he wouldn't, and he knew I knew he wouldn't, but it was a good
threat anyway. I held up my hands.

"Fair enough. So, what else have you been looking at when your mum thinks
you're safe."

He shrugged. "I dunno. All sorts, I suppose."

"All sorts of what?"

"Of people doing sex. I didn't really understand most of it. Lots of it was
pretty horrible, actually."

"Like what?"

"The women's bits look gross. Like, really minging. Why would you go
anywhere near that?"

"Don't ask me," I shrugged.

Danny looked confused for a moment, and then laughed at himself. "Oh yeah,
I forgot. You like willies. Wait," he said, suddenly turning to me with a
stricken look. "If I don't like fannies, does that make me gay?"

I shrugged. "Do you like willies instead?" I asked. It was a pretty basic
measure of his sexuality, but these things aren't always complicated.

"I liked yours when I saw it. It's a nice shape. But I haven't seen it
stiff yet."

"Then yes, there's a chance you might be gay, like me."

"Do you like mine?" he asked, with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, I suppose," I admitted, sheepishly.

"Pervert," he said with a grin, and punched me in the arm. I grabbed him
into a headlock, and tickled him until he squawked.

"Stop it, I'll piss myself!"

I let him go, and he grabbed the front of his shorts. "I really need to go
now!"

"Fine," I replied. "Just go in those bushes back there."

"Don't you need to go?"

I looked at him steadily. He was only interested in seeing my dick. I
needed to slow this down a little, take it carefully.

"Maybe a little later," I replied, and he nodded, seeming to understand.

He re-emerged a minute later, flicking his floppy cock back into his pants,
as if he wanted to make sure I got a look at least a little look at it. He
grinned at the hungry look I couldn't hide.

"It's OK," he said in a rather shy, nervous voice which seemed at odds with
his flirtatious behaviour, "you can play with it later if you like."

I tried not to groan too loudly, and watched his tight little bum cycle off
ahead of me with laughter trailing behind.

---

He was definitely what I had started to call 'Horny Danny' that day. I was
treated to an endless series of dick flashes, and the odd humping
moment. He even grabbed my dick through my shorts at one point, in full
view of a group of walkers, and I had to pull him aside to reprimand him,
and point out that being too brazen could get us both in trouble.

That wasn't to say I didn't enjoy the attention, or the moments of boyish
sexuality. I did, very much, and I was coming to the realisation that I
wasn't going to be able to stop him. Danny was going to get what he wanted,
whatever that happened to be. I don't think he really had a plan, but I was
bored of trying to prevent myself taking advantage of a situation which, if
I was entirely honest, I desperately wanted to take advantage of.

No, it just needed to be done in the right way, at the right time, because
although I was abandoning the normal moral stance which prevented me
getting involved with him, I still felt a certain obligation as a pseudo
parental figure in his life. Yes, I was going to allow myself to be
corrupted by him, and in return I was now planning to corrupt him further,
but that didn't meant I shouldn't still try to do right by him. And that
meant teaching him restraint and respect.

I just needed to quickly get off with him first, then I would be straight
onto the whole restraint and respect thing...

---

Back at the campsite, our sticky, dusty bodies were very much in need of
cleaning, so I packed Danny off to the showers while I sorted out the
bikes, making sure they were secure. I trusted the other campers, but
sometimes it pays to be cautious, even when you're sure you're among
friends.

Danny took a good long time in the showers, and when he returned I had a
fair idea of why. He was very much more relaxed, and made no efforts
whatsoever to flash his dick at me, so I could be fairly sure he'd wanked
off while he was there. That was kind of what I had hoped for; his
horniness was endearing, but also annoying, because it stopped him doing
anything properly, even having sex. He would be too wound up to relax and
enjoy it slowly, so I'd rather he sorted himself out first.

I left him in the tent on his phone while I went and showered myself. As I
stood there wanking off myself, to take the edge off my own ardour, I
casually wondered if perhaps Danny had been standing where I now stood,
just a few minutes before, doing the same thing. That sent me over the
edge, and unlike Danny would have, I covered the back of the shower cubicle
door in a torrent of built-up tension.

Returning to the tent, I found him asleep on his back, wearing nothing at
all. I don't know what drove him to get out of a perfectly clean new
t-shirt and pair of shorts, but I wasn't about to complain. I sat down on
my own side of the tent, and stared at him, becoming hard in the
process. His dick was fatter, longer and floppier than normal because of
the heat. His balls, which hadn't yet descended, were as loose in their
pouch as they ever got, hanging down between his legs.

I leaned closer, and immediately got both the scent of his shower gel, and
the scent of the boy beneath. He was clean, but I could still smell his
dick, quite a different smell to an adult's. I softly blew a little air
across it, and Danny's dick pulsed, and then jerked upwards in a series of
little bobbing motions, until it stood stiffly above his abdomen. I was
still slightly surprised by the size of it, because despite only having the
small sample size of myself and a few friends, I was certain that Danny's
willy was a pretty good size for a boy his age.

I should have asked his permission, I know that. I shouldn't have just
assumed that because he had practically begged me to wank him off before,
and that he had promised me earlier that very day that I could play with
it, that it was just OK to reach out and take it between thumb and first
two fingers. I shouldn't have assumed that it was alright to gently peel
back the skin from the head to reveal the deep pink, bulging glans. Nor
should I have allowed myself to squeeze the skin back over the ridge, to
pinch it and pull it out into a nozzle, to gently cup his whole hot, hard
shaft in my hand and to softly wank him.

I shouldn't have assumed it was OK to do any of those things, but I
did. Common sense was out of the window now. I was off the leash. Restraint
had been handcuffed, gagged, thrown into the cellar, and the door
locked. In my mind, Danny shouldn't have teased me, or offered himself to
me. It was his fault I was so horny, and that there was nothing I could do
do stop myself taking advantage of him.

Bullshit, obviously, but how else do you justify your actions to yourself
in this situation? I wanked him slowly, gently, lovingly, with my face mere
inches from the iron-hard spike which defined his very masculinity. Danny
stirred, and mumbled in his sleep, and began to wake, and yet I carried
on. I refused to be put off, to stop doing this just because Danny might
not want it when he woke up. Whether he was up for it or not, he was
getting wanked off. Or, perhaps, better than that...

He woke properly, and through blinking eyes looked down at me. A smile came
to his lips, and he made a soft, contented little sound. One of his hands
briefly joined mine on his boyhood, encouraging it to keep moving, and then
he fell back and closed his eyes, and the only parts of him which moved
were his chest - rising and falling - and his hips, which squirmed as
little jolts of pleasure radiated out from the tip of his willy.

I knew then that I had completely fallen for him, and nothing was going to
stand in the way of our relationship. It was an easy matter, then, to make
the decision to lean forward and take him into my mouth, to suck him
straight down to the root, to feel his oversize little dick touching the
back of my mouth. Danny felt it too, of course. His head jolted up, and he
gasped, and looked wide-eyed at what I was doing to him. The smile became a
grin, and he levered himself up on his elbows to watch me. I lifted my head
up, and gently played with his slippery dick while I spoke to him.

"Want me to keep going?" I asked, softly. Danny nodded in reply, and
watched me with narrowing eyes as I sucked him all the way back in. His
eyes closed and his head fell back as I hoovered him hard, now determined
to get him off as quickly as I could. I peeled back his skin with finger
and thumb, then attacked the exposed, sensitive head. Danny whimpered, and
his fingers grasped what they could of my short hair, pushing my head hard
into his crotch. I could sympathise - I remembered the sensation of my own
first blow job, and the notion that there was no better feeling in the
world than this, and there never would be. Even fucking isn't quite as
amazing as well-administered oral, and I was doing my best to make sure
Danny had the best time he possibly could.

All too soon, his hips were bucking frantically, and the hands holding my
hair were pulling my face hard into his hairless crotch, and the little
spike in my mouth was dancing and kicking while Danny went through what
surely must have been the orgasm of his young life. He curled his body
around my head as the sensations grew stronger, then roughly pushed me off
as it became too much to bear. We both watched as his willy pulsed a few
last times, firing blanks, and then very quickly deflated, his foreskin
slipping itself back over its head as his still-fattened boyhood came to
rest on his hip.

I looked up at Danny, and through heavily-lidded eyes he gazed back at me
in wonder. His mouth hung slightly open, and here were beads of sweat on
his brow and nose. His hair clung damply to his head at its edges, and his
whole upper body, from nipples to neck, was flushed a deep red. He stared
at me for a moment, and then his expression began to change. He smiled
first, then giggled, and then feel over sideways.

"Oh my God, Uncle Zack," he said through his laughter. "I can't believe you
just did that!"

"It was fun," I said, with a shrug.

"Oh yeah, that was like, the best ever. But you still had my willy in your
mouth!"

"Shh! Keep it down!" I warned him, hoping that none of the other campers
were close enough to hear.

"I can't keep it down!" Danny whispered with a giggle, pointing to his
dick, which had somehow regained its upright posture.

"Want to do it again?" I asked, quite ready for a repeat performance should
he want one. But he shook his head adamantly.

"I need a drink actually," he said, returning to more normal things. "My
throat's really dry after that."

I could understand what he meant. Mine wasn't, because I'd been slobbering
all over his dick, but Danny had been panting away while I sucked him.

"How about an ice cream?" I asked. "Let's take the Beetle out and see if we
can find one."

That idea was met with instant approval, and moments later we were heading
out of the campsite, with Danny in nothing more than a pair of shorts and a
beaten up old pair of sneakers. No t-shirt, no pants, no socks. Damn, he
looked sexy sat there like that, and it was hard to concentrate on what we
were meant to be doing, rather than just reaching over and groping him
through his shorts. Several times he giggled and looked across at me,
clearly remembering what we had been up to just moments before, and it was
clear from the folds of his shorts that Little Danny had never gone soft
again, despite the distraction of heading out for ice cream.

For a few blissful hours that afternoon, things were fairly normal. Ice
creams were bought, a park was found, and we did nothing at all unusual for
a boy and his nearly-uncle. I wandered around feeling somewhat nervous,
wondering if perhaps people could tell what we'd been up to. I glanced over
my shoulder at people, certain that I had heard them talking to their
companion about us, but of course they were doing nothing of the sort. To
most - if not all - of the people we met, there was nothing more to us than
uncle and nephew (or even father and son) out together doing perfectly
innocent things. They couldn't have known what I'd done to him in the tent,
because no-one else had witnessed it, and neither of us had said anything.

That did raise an important issue, one which I raised with Danny when we
were alone.

"Um, Danny... We're not really meant to be doing the things we do in the
tent, you know."

"What, eating our meals in there? I thought you said it was OK as long as
we didn't spill anything."

"No, I mean the other stuff. You know, with our things."

"It's only been my thing so far," he said, cheerfully.

"Yes, I know, but..."

"If you want, we can do it with your thing, too."

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Oh, don't you want to?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Well then, that's fine. We'll do it with yours later. I want to see what
it's like anyway."

"Danny, that's not my point. I mean, we shouldn't be doing those things. If
anyone found out, I would go to jail for a long time."

"Oh, because you're one of those men? They told us about that at school. If
someone did stuff we didn't want them to, it was bad and we should tell
someone. But this isn't like that, though."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I really want you to do them to me. I've thought about you
touching my willy for, like, months."

"I'm not saying we have to stop, I'm just saying that I really would rather
you didn't tell anyone what we did."

Danny looked across at me as if I'd just suggested the sky was bright
pink. "Why would I ever tell anyone about this?! It's totally private! Mum
said that if I want to play with my willy, it's private and I shouldn't
tell anyone I've been doing it, or do it where people can see."

"What about me? I can see it when we do stuff."

"Yeah," he responded, "but that's just you. It doesn't count if it's
you. And I really, really want to do it with you."

And that, in Danny's mind, was that.

---


I actually tried to keep my hands off him on the way back to the
campsite. He had sprung an altogether too predictable - and quite
noticeable - erection in the car, which I assumed was down to the
vibrations from the engine, given how frequently being in that car gave him
the same problem. The frequency of the rumbling must've been just right to
arouse him, and he had a bit of a habit of wriggling and writhing, and
pushing down on the protuberance as if the feelings were a little too good
to ignore.

At one point, as I hunted for and eventually found fourth gear, his hand
found mine as it left the gear stick and dragged it into his lap.

"You have to change gear on this one as well," he said through a fit of
giggles.

I did as demanded, grabbing his little pole through his shorts, once again
marvelling at the incredible stiffness of it. It certainly seemed rather
better sprung than the Beetle's rather slushy gearbox. Each time I had to
change gear, I would reach across and give it an equivalent tweak, and
Danny's eyes would roll back in his head at the sensation.

It was lucky we were mostly on single track country lanes, because Danny
quickly pushed down the only item of clothing he had left, and kicked them
off his feet, to sit there completely naked. Now, my hand would linger on
his gear stick most of the time, and only occasionally leave it to change
gear in the car. We sailed past the entrance to the campsite, and I kept
driving around until I had given Danny a squeaky little dry cum.

Only with his appetite momentarily sated was I able to convince him to put
on his shorts, and even then it was only just in time: just as they were
passing over his hips and he was flipping his dick and balls past the
waistband, we stopped at a red light in a little village and a group of
teenage girls crossed in front of us. Danny blushed and giggled, and hid
his face while I tried my best not to catch the girls' eyes.

---

This time, we did stop at the campsite, and Danny dragged himself out of
the car to flop into his seat outside the tent. Once again, post-orgasmic
lethargy had claimed him, though it rarely lasted long. In this case, he
was up and about and bothering me for an evening meal only moments
later. I, for my part, wasn't that inclined to move either, but when Danny
turned up with one of my beers from the electric cooler (yep, we really had
gone soft!), I managed to revive myself long enough to get the grill going
and get some burgers cooking.

"Can I have a bit?" Danny asked while I stood there cooking.

"Bit of what, mate?"

"Your beer. Mum let me have some before. I liked it."

I turned around and looked into his hopeful little eyes, then gave the
campsite a cursory scan.

"Get a cup," I said, "and I'll pour some out for you. For God's sake don't
let anyone on the site see you drinking this."

He gave a very solemn shake of the head, and found himself a cup, holding
it out rather reverentially for me to fill. I had no doubt his mother had
let him try beer before, but I was equally certain that he hadn't actually
enjoyed it. But that didn't matter - he was trying to be a grown-up with
me, and that was something which, for my own nefarious purposes, was
something to be encouraged.

I didn't plan to get him drunk, but when he announced he needed a piss and
promptly tripped over a rope, I realised I'd let him have too much. I
helped him to his feet and guided him to the toilets, and Danny, giggling
and silly like any good drunk should be, demanded that I help him. So, I
took him into the stall, pulled down his shorts and held his dick for him
while he let out a quite impressive stream. It dried up, and up his little
willy rose to full mast in as many heartbeats as it took for me to squeeze
out the last drops.

I shoved his stiffy back into his shorts and we got out of the cubicle in
time to be met by a rather confused looking young boy, whose eyes went to
Danny's obscenely tented shorts, and whose left hand went to his mouth, and
whose right hand immediately grabbed his own dick through his shorts. I
steered Danny out of there rapidly, glancing over my shoulder to see the
young boy pulling down the front of his own shorts a good distance from the
urinal and steering a cute little stiffy of his own towards it. It was the
kind of thing I never saw before Danny opened my eyes, and now I noticed
everywhere.

Back at the tent, Danny was floppy, giggly and very physically
affectionate. He was all over me, planting kisses on my face and lips, and
reaching down between us to grope my rapidly inflating dick. I should have
stopped him, because he was intoxicated, but I'd already discarded my moral
compass entirely, and there was little distinction to be made between
molesting a sober boy and molesting a drunk one.

When he pushed me into my back, I had two thoughts: first, I wondered if
this might finally be the time that Danny's attention turned to my needs,
and second, if that was the case, why didn't I get him drunk sooner?!

He was definitely determined now, though. He growled at me like a tiger cub
and pushed my hands away when I tried to pull his shorts down from the
side. He undressed me roughly, pulling down my shorts and boxers in one go,
and determinedly taking them all the way down my legs and off. Then he told
me to lose the t-shirt, and as I did that, he stripped his shorts off
himself, and climbed onto my legs.

My t-shirt was still stuck covering my face when I felt the first hot touch
of his hand on my dick. It burned like fire. Nothing had ever felt so
right, so perfect, so erotically charged. A thick bead of my precum dripped
down onto his thumb, and like a pro he rubbed it into the skin of my
shaft. When the cursed t-shirt finally came free, I looked down and very
nearly lost my load right there and then. Danny grinned up at me, with my
shaft gripped in his little paw. It had never looked so big or fat; his
fingers could reach around it, but only just.

He started wanking me in a slow, gentle rhythm. He was still unsure of
himself, and of what he was doing, and that showed itself in the way he
handled my manhood. But because the pace was slower, and the approach more
exploratory, it was one of the most wonderful wanks in my life. I closed my
eyes and allowed my head to fall back for a moment, and when I looked
again, Danny was staring up at me with a mix of lust, hunger and adoration.

Immediately I had a flashback to a time some twenty or more years back. The
first time I sucked an adult penis, and it was the captain of the local
football side. We were in the front of his expensive sports car, and I was
sucking his dick as my way of thanking him for scoring the winning goal in
the local derby. It was the only way I knew of sufficiently expressing my
gratitude for his performance. I had sucked off two boys by this point in
my life (I think I was twelve at the time), but never an adult, though it
was something I was strangely desperate to try.

I had won a competition among young fans of the team to visit their
training ground. Back in those days it was assumed you were safe at a
football ground, with all those manly, heterosexual males around; it was
unthinkable that anything untoward could happen. Of course, we all know now
that's a fallacy, but at the time it wouldn't have been considered a child
safety issue to let me go there on my own. I was shown an excellent time by
all of the team, but it was the dashing young captain (youngest captain the
team had ever had, at 22) who paid me the most attention. That was, I came
to discover, because he had a bit of a thing for boys, and he had already
taken quite a few young fans to bed.

He and I weren't destined for his flat, though. Instead, what happened
between us took place in his car. When the club training session was over,
he asked me to wait while he showered, with the promise that afterwards he
would take me out to the car park and show me his new sports car. The funny
thing is, I don't even remember what kind of car it was, which is
ridiculous given how much interest I paid to cars at that age. But what
happened next clearly occupied my thoughts so thoroughly that I've
forgotten any extraneous detail.

He offered to take me for a spin. Even though I was young and
inexperienced, he said it with a smile which I instantly recognised. I got
into that passenger seat as quickly as I could, because as certain as I was
that he was propositioning me, I was even more certain that (a) I was gay,
and (b) I really, really had the hots for him. It took no persuading on his
part to convince me that I wanted to do very naughty things with him, but
the hand on my thigh as we drove, and it's gentle upward movement towards
my already straining boyhood certainly put paid to any lingering doubts I
might have had.

He took me down a winding country lane until we reached an old, derelict
farmhouse. He drove around the back of it and parked up, and looked across
at me with a nervous, expectant air. I knew what I wanted already, and
shooing courage which I certainly feel, I reached across and put my hand in
his lap.

"I want to suck you for scoring in the match," I said to him, quite
frankly. His eyebrows must've nearly climbed off the top of his forehead,
but he nodded and smiled at me, and I knew that it was too late to back out
now; I was sucking him off, no matter what.

From there, things moved quite quickly. He moved into the passenger seat
while I squirmed down into the footwell, and then he lifted his hips and
helped me pull down his tracksuit trousers and pants. His dick flopped out,
engorged and damp at its tip, an enlarged facsimile of my own. It hardened
quickly in my hand, and then I looked up at him and saw the wonder in his
eyes as he stared down at me.

Back in the present, I looked down at Danny and saw what my footballing
lover must have seen all those years ago. My little lover's pupils were
wide with fear and excitement, but there was something else in his gaze,
too - adoration. Hero worship. A fixation on the wonderful man whose cock
he was about to suck. I'd never before been the object of such desperate
affection, and it was like a powerful drug.

It's quite possible that I knew Danny was going to go down on me moments
before even he did. There was something in that reverential look which made
it almost inevitable. His eyelids fluttered and then shut as he opened his
mouth and leaned towards the shaft he gripped tightly in his fist. His hot
breath washed over the damp tip of my foreskin first, making me shudder,
and then came the wet, silky smooth touch of his lips in a ring around the
shaft, just beneath the head.

He was tentative at first, barely touching my skin, keeping his tongue out
of the way. Then he groaned, a sound of resignation or a sign of lust, and
his mouth closed around me properly. He applied a little suction as he
pulled back, and then more as he once again took me deep into his mouth.

He might only have been suckling on the first couple of inches of my
manhood, but they were the most important inches by far. Each time the ring
of his lips passed over the ridge at the back of my head, a jolt of
pleasure shot through me, emanating somewhere close to my prostate but
firing out through my guts and into my spine. It made me shiver
uncontrollably; I was as turned on as I had ever been.

All too soon there was a decision to make: assume that Danny knew what he
was doing and cum in his mouth, or warn him? I knew what I wanted to do,
but even in the fog of lust, I knew what was right for Danny. I tapped him
on the head, and when he didn't respond, tapped him again. He stopped
sucking and looked up at me with the very tip of my foreskin trapped
between his lips.

"I'm going to shoot, Danny," I whispered, hoping that he understood first
time. He must have done, because he stopped still for a moment, staring at
me slack-jawed. Then he nodded, presumably to himself, and went back down.

That was it. With a groan I let rip, pumping three, four, five huge spurts
into his mouth. Danny kept sucking and bobbing, but the cum was too much
for him to hold in, and it dropped out of his mouth down the length of my
shaft and into my pubes. Finally, just before the sensation became too much
to bear, he lifted free of me, and swallowed that part of my load which
hadn't escaped his mouth.

He looked up at me with guilt in his eyes, but also undisguised lust, as if
he couldn't believe quite how much he had enjoyed doing what he had just
done, and wanted more.

I pulled him to me, and kissed his cum-coated lips, and he kissed me
back. I could feel his little boy stiffness pressing into my side, and
reached between us to wank him off as we kissed. Danny's excitement and his
hair trigger combined to bring him to the edge of ecstasy and send him
hurtling over in only a minute or so, and I revelled in the feel of his
hips bucking and his dick twitching as he suffered his way through another
painfully enjoyable dry cum.

When he had calmed down, and pulled away from my embrace, he gave me a shy
smile and looked down between us, to where the manhood he had so recently
sucked upon lay dormant against my hip. His, too, dangled softly.

"I didn't think I could do that," he whispered, laying his head on my
shoulder and running his hand over my chest. "I didn't think I would dare,
but then I just... I just did it."

"It was amazing, Danny," I said, quite honestly. "It was probably the best
I've ever had."

"You're just saying that!" he scoffed.

"No, Danny, I'm not," I replied. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want
you, and that made it so much more special."

"Want me?" he asked.

"Yes, want you. Desire you. Need to have sex with you. Love you."

"Me too," he said through a huge yawn. Moments later, he was asleep.

---

The following morning I woke to find myself alone in the tent. Needing to
answer the call of nature, I made my way to the facilities, which were
rapidly taking on a new significance in my life. I expected to find Danny
there, but the place was entirely empty. It was only on the way out that I
saw another human being, a young, blonde lad who certainly would have
piqued my interest had I been a couple of minutes later. He passed me as I
left, head down, trudging with the attitude of someone who definitely
wasn't a morning person.

Having not found Danny where I expected, I returned to the tent feeling a
little worried about where he might have got to. I didn't think he would be
in any danger - he was too mature for that - but I did wonder where he
might have gone.

He came back a minute later, looking down at his phone. He gave me a big
grin as he entered the tent, and flopped down next to me, close to my side.

"Where have you been?" I asked, sounding a little more worried than I
intended.

"Just up to the top of the hill. I told you, my phone doesn't have much
signal sometimes. Dunno why. Mum had text, she says she hopes you're
looking after me properly, and that I'm having a good time."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I said I'm having a nice time sucking your willy."

He said it so seriously, so deadpan, that for a moment I panicked. When
Danny saw the horrified look on my face, he couldn't help himself, and
burst out laughing. I jumped on him to punish him for pranking me, and for
a few moments we wrestled around, with me trying ever more enthusiastically
to tickle his ribs. We ended up - as characters in these types of stories
so often seem to do - with me on top of him, pinning him down, with my
hands on his wrists, held above his head. Danny looked up at me, and the
amusement fled from his eyes, to be replaced with something far more
serious. He glanced down for a second, then looked back up at me.

"You have a stiffy again," he said, as he wriggled his hips beneath my
backside. Soon enough, I could feel that he, too, sported a hard little
boyhood.

"So do you," I replied, my voice cracking with lust. We both knew where
this was going. I sat up and let Danny's hands free, and immediately they
went down between us to wrap the fabric of my shorts around my erection.

Danny knew what he wanted, and had no qualms about taking it. He pushed
down the front of my shorts and released my manhood, and then gently wanked
me, his boyish fingers like silk on my tender skin. As he looked down in
concentration at what he was doing, the tip of his tongue poked out of the
corner of his mouth.

"Danny," I warned him, "if you keep that up I'm going to get it all over
your t-shirt in a minute. Maybe you should stop."

He did stop, but only to pull off his t-shirt and fling it aside.

"Now it won't get dirty," he said, simply, and went back to his task.

I was still in that phase where any sex with Danny was a major event, so it
wasn't long before I unloaded on him with a sharp gasp. A few big ropes of
cum decorated his chest and tummy, and a couple more dribbles anointed his
knuckles. He watched each shot arc up into the air and splatter onto his
torso with fascination, then gently squeezed the last drops from my
still-spasming dick, wiping them on his tummy next to one of the other
lines.

"That's really gross, you know," he said, looking down at the mess I'd made
all over his tummy and chest. Some of it was already threatening to dribble
off the side. I gave him a bit of a confused look, and he responded,

"When you did it in my mouth it wasn't all over me. I didn't have to get
cleaned up."

Ten year old logic!

Though I offered to repay his kindness, Danny refused. He gave me a rather
enigmatic grin, then told me he wanted to take care of it himself in the
shower. I let him go, horny again and wishing that I could watch, but the
reality was things were getting quite intense between Danny and I, and I
realised that perhaps he would be better with a bit of breathing space.

As if Danny realised the same thing, he reverted to standard-issue ten year
old that day and the next. There was no hint of anything sexual between us,
though he did kiss me goodnight both nights. In fact, we were a couple of
days into our second week before Danny got horny enough to play again. He
wasn't exactly predictable, but he definitely had cycles of blowing hot and
cold. I didn't imagine it would be that way for long - the puberty monster
would make itself known sooner rather than later, and he would be
permanently in heat, I guessed - but for now Danny's sexuality was
definitely limited to periods of rabid horniness interposed with something
considerably more relaxed.

What I still wasn't really sure of was Danny's motivation. To be fair, he
didn't need to tell me anything. If he was just having fun exploring what
it was like to be sexy with someone, and I was that person, then I could
hardly argue; I was having the time of my life. But equally, there might
have been something more to it than that. He might genuinely have been
falling in love with me, and wanting to show it. Perhaps it was a bit of
both!

I got a bit more of a clue the next time he gave the signs that he was
feeling a bit horny. He woke up on the Wednesday of the second week with a
raging stiffy, which I was made aware of when he got up to go for a wee. It
was still there when he got back and crawled in next to me, lying down with
his head on my shoulder. He idly toyed with my dick through my shorts as he
ground his little spike into my hip, then lifted his face up to me, and
leaned into to kiss me. Danny's kisses ranged from fairly chaste little
pecks on the lips to much more exciting French kisses of the thoroughly
sloppy kind, depending on how horny he was feeling. And judging by this
particular kiss, he was fit to burst.

He took his lips from mine and looked up at me, questioning. I didn't have
a clue what he was asking, but it didn't seem to matter whether or not I
was a part of the conversation, because Danny had given his own reply in
his head. He rolled away from me, and dragged my arm over him so that I
spooned up behind him. I'd wanked him off one morning, hugging like this,
and Danny had been really into it, so I was quite happy for a repeat
performance. I nibbled his ear and kissed his neck while I let my hand play
over his tight tummy, reaching up under the hem of the t-shirt he wore to
bed to feel the hot, naked skin of his abdomen. Danny writhed about and
pressed his backside into my crotch, which needless to say made me
incredibly horny. My rock-hard erection was being caressed by the lovely
bulbous cheeks of Danny's backside, and I was making quite a serious wet
spot in my boxers.

Danny gasped, groaned and hugged my arm when I roughly pushed my hand
inside his shorts and grabbed his dick. It was a little damp at the tip,
and very slippery, and I realised that for the first time since we had
started fooling around, Danny was so worked up that a little precum had
squeezed its way out. I gloried in the slippery goo, peeling back Danny's
foreskin more easily than ever, now that it was lubricated from within. I
pushed down Danny's shorts just so I could look over his shoulder and play
with the stretchy, stringy strands of the stuff. Danny looked down at what
I was doing, and smiled.

"It does that sometimes, when I've been really horny for a while. I was
dreaming about you playing with it before I woke up this morning."

"Mine leaks all the time when you're around," I admitted, bringing a giggle
from Danny.

"Get it out, then," he said, and I complied, pushing down my boxers and
kicking them off my feet. I had assumed he meant to do more than just look
at the dribbling mess of a dick, but he made a contented little 'humph'
noise, and rolled back over on his side, pulling me back into the hug from
behind.

I continued to wank him gently, slowly, while Danny got more and more
worked up. But I couldn't avoid the astonishing fact that there was now
nothing at all between my manhood and the furrow of his behind, which it
now insistently ploughed, riding on what could best be described as a river
of precum.

I'm one of those lucky guys who has always been able to make gallons of the
stuff when suitably aroused, and nothing I'd ever done compared with the
excitement of dry (well, not that dry...) humping Danny from behind. Soon
his whole crack was coated with the stuff, giving me the most wonderful
sensation.

But of course, precum isn't just a wonderful lubricant. It's also
well-known for its ability to relax muscles and skin, and it certainly
lived up to its reputation, because on one upward stroke I suddenly found
my dick lodged at the entrance to Danny's rear-end. I froze, and so did
he. I wasn't at all sure what to do. Did Danny even know what anal sex was?
And if he knew, was he in any way interested in being fucked? I thought it
unlikely, but Danny made no move away from me, and when I twitched a little
and pushed my hips forward quite involuntarily, Danny gave a little wiggle
and pushed back.

I stopped again. I could feel it, and I was certain that Danny, on the
receiving end, was well aware of it, too. I had half the head of my dick in
him, lodged in the ring of muscle at his entrance. His hips made the
slightest wiggle, and the rest of the head slipped in, blossoming inside
him as if it desired to be locked inside. Danny grunted, and his hand
reached back to hold my hip. Gentle pressure told me to go no further.

"You're up my bum," he whispered huskily.

"Yeah, I kind of realised that. Should I take it out?"

"N-no. No, don't do that. Leave it there, OK? Don't do anything until I
say."

"Alright," I said, kissing the back of his head, "you're in charge."

Danny nodded decisively , as if to say 'yes, I am,' and for a couple of
minutes we lay there listening to the sounds of the campsite waking up all
around us. I looked over Danny's shoulder, and his dick was not just limp,
but shrivelled into a tiny little nub with a great big bunch of foreskin
hanging off he end. But, incongruously, a big string of precum dripped off
its tip and across his hip, and had flowered into a dark patch where he lay
on top of his discarded shorts.

After what seemed like an eternity, but could have been no more than a
couple of minutes, I felt the pressure from Danny's hand on my hip reverse,
and more of my manhood slip inside. His hand lifted off my hip, but hovered
in the air above it, as if ready to stop me at any time.

"Go in and out a bit, OK? But no further in that this."

I was happy to comply with any demand of his, just for the chance to keep
fucking him. I'd never felt anything so hot, and soft, and tight as fucking
Danny. Jesus, it was incredible. It took every effort of willpower I had to
prevent myself filling him up straight away, and as I began to fuck him I
knew that even my greatest efforts would soon be in vain.

Each push in made Danny grunt, and each withdrawal brought a somewhat
depraved 'schlick!' sound from below. I kept my thrusts shallow and slow,
but even that was not enough to prevent the inevitable. As I felt myself
slipping over the edge into oblivion, couldn't stop myself pushing deeper,
and to my delight I spied Danny's erection blooming back into life, jerking
upwards with each thrust until it pointed directly up at me as I grabbed
Danny into a tight hug and unloaded into his tight little bum.

We said nothing. My erection subsided, and my dick slipped from Danny's
rear end. I cleaned him with tissues, and he pulled his clothes on. I
hugged him to me and his arms went around my neck, and he kissed me softly
on the cheek, and we held each other in silence.

A few minutes later he excused himself to go to the toilet, and I lay alone
on the bed, euphoric.

---

It's rarely true that a boy will be up for a repeat of the first time soon
after - as I've experienced several times since Danny - and so it was that
that evening I gave him a long, slow wank and a gentle blow-job, until he
came with three little kicks in my mouth, his fingers gripping my hair
tightly. And the following morning, he wanted nothing to do with sex at
all, or even mere affection, for that matter, pushing me away with a laugh
when I tried to hug him. Danny was back in normal, celibate ten-year-old
mode, and so we had fun doing all the sorts of things we used to do before
Danny and I started having sex.

---

All too soon, our time was up. Friday morning dawned bright and clear, and,
following our well-practised routine, we packed up and loaded the car. The
whole time, Danny was melancholy, not an unusual state of mind for our last
morning, but noticeable given how happy he had been for two weeks. It was
only when we were in the car and driving away that he confessed the reason
for his unhappiness.

"We're not going to stop, are we?"

"What, at the services on the way home? Of course we are. We'll never make
it in one go."

"No, dummy," he answered, with a roll of his gorgeous eyes, "I meant, we
aren't going to stop doing stuff like we've been doing, are we?"

"You mean having sex? Do you want to keep going?"

"Yeah, of course. It's fun, and doing it with you is really... it's really
nice. Y'know?"

"Yes mate, I know. I really like doing it with you, too."

"Zack," he said after a moment's pause.

"Yes, Danny?"

"When we get to the services..."

"Yes, mate?"

"Park as far as you can from everyone else, OK?"

"OK, but why?"

He didn't answer, so I glanced across at him, and very nearly steered us
off the road. Danny was sitting there with his finger sliding in and out of
his soft, kissable lips. He winked lewdly at me, and dissolved in a fit of
giggles.

End of part 1

-----

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