Date: Mon, 09 Jul 2007 07:34:19 -0400 (EDT) From: Herb Cat Subject: Ten-year olds at Camp Pt 9 Copyright 2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission. Please note: this story depicts oral and anal sex between male adults and male minors. If this offends you or is illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further. The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you. ----- Eight years had passed since Wes's first trip to camp. The college fund Mike had the foresight to set up when they still lived in the projects had grown over the years and now Wes had just finished his Freshman Year at State. He was 6'2", and 212 pounds of muscle. He had been on the football team in High School and now had an athletic scholarship even though he didn't make the college varsity team. His erect cock had grown five more inches, he was popular with the girls, and managed not to get anyone pregnant. Mike was in charge of the camp's entire physical plant, whether there were campers there or not. With so many buildings, something always needed to be done. When camp was in session, Mike was the Big Buddy with the tool belt, which really made him sexy to the ten-year olds. Each day, a new boy would hand him nails while he hammered down a loose board, or watch him weld an old boiler. Of course the boy also discovered how well Mike used the tool that grew between his legs. Throughout high school, Wes was Mike's right hand man around the camp grounds. He learned to repaint, reroof, repair and refurbish. His tool belt made him a real turn-on as well. But, although he was definitely part of the staff, the directors respected his status as a minor, and didn't give him Big Buddy responsibility. So, Wes would be on a ladder starting to screw in a lightbulb, and on the bed beneath him, old George would be starting to screw little Irving. Wes would be pounding a new support into the backstop and nearby old Harry would be pounding little Dwight. Wes would be ripping lumber for a new dock, while on the beach old Jerry would be ripping open little Abdul, and the screams of pleasure from both man and boy would drown out Wes's power saw. He saw it all, and smiled, remembering when he too was fresh meat. But, now Wes was 18. And the directors were anxious to bring in fresh blood, or rather fresh cum. The Big Buddies were frankly getting a little long in the tooth. The Stick 'Em Up game just wouldn't be fun if the boys all had to wait around for old duffers to renew their strength. They asked Wes if he would please be a Big Buddy this year, and he graciously accepted. He also contacted his old pals, the Black Bomber and Italian Stallion, and they managed to free up the time as well. Wes was just as excited this year looking forward to camp as he was at age ten. He began planning all kinds of fun activities for his little buddies. When orientation week began, Wes, Gino and Bobby (at 18, the three "youngsters") were, in a sense, fresh meat all over again. They were nicknamed the Rugrats and were the butt of many practical jokes and quickly learned to give as good as they got. They discovered Harry and Jerry had lost none of their competitive spirit over the years. The brothers had contests to see who could maintain the longest erection, whose asshole could swallow the most ping pong balls, whose erect cock could support the most weight, who could stand on a bench and pee into a coke bottle on the ground, and on and on. Midway through orientation, the staff learned that Petey, one of the new campers, had recently lost both his parents and his older brother in a tragic auto accident. Little Petey, strapped in his car seat, survived, at least in body. His grandmother thought he should still come to camp to "take his mind off things." Doc asked Wes to be Petey's Big Buddy for the first day. On Saturday morning, the three Rugrats excitedly waited the arrival of their little buddies. They nervously played with their dicks while looking down the drive. Eventually the vans pulled up and deposited their fresh meat. While men and boys went off in all directions, Julio stood by one of the vans and called to Wes. He held one little boy by the hand while another had his arms wrapped around his leg in a vice grip, his blond head turned to face the van. Julio nodded to the parasite on his leg. "Petey, this is Wes. He's going to be your Big Buddy." No reply. "Hi, there, Petey! I've been waiting for you. I got lots of big things planned for us to do toge..." Nothing. The boy was not loosening his choke hold on that black leg. "Petey, I'm going to go with Mark now. You stay here with Wes. He's really, really nice. You're going to have a fun time." Wes reached over and laid his hand on Petey's shoulder. The kid was catatonic. He looked at poor patient Mark waiting for Julio to get free. Wes bent down and kissed Petey's head. The boy didn't stir. "You know, Little Feller, when I was your age, I felt uncomfortable my first day at camp. I wasn't sure I wanted to go with a strange man." Wes continued gently rubbing the boys shoulders and planting kisses in his hair. "But I decided to play along. And guess what, I found out it was fun after all." They waited. Julio and Wes looked at each other. They wondered what to do now. Little Mark came up with one solution. "Why don't you two guys trade. Petey can stay with Julio and you can take me. OK?" Mark's suggestion was tempting to Wes, but he wasn't about to give up on Petey. And he knew Julio really didn't want to trade. He shook his head no and continued stroking poor Petey's shoulders. More minutes passed. Now other kids were coming by in their new camp clothes, laughing, singing and exploring with their Big Buddies all the places around camp where they were going to have fun. Some were even already exploring inside the men's shorts, discovering what going commando was all about. Wes saw Mark's eyes start to swell, and wondered if maybe it would be better to trade. Suddenly, without notice, Petey released his grip on Julio, spun around, and grabbed Wes's thigh. Mark and Julio went trotting off to Mark's cabin. Wes winced a little as Petey's arms squeezed his leg. He wondered how soon he'd lose circulation in that leg. He wished this once Barry had chosen long khaki pants as the camp uniform. Wes leaned against the van and slowly slid his ass down until he was sitting on the drive. Petey was now in an awkward position, but he still refused to loosen his grip. Wes reached down and caressed his little butt with one hand while stroking his hair with the other. The boy turned his head and looked at Wes. For the first time, Wes saw his eyes. Those big blue orbs, totally dry, and vacant. "Shit, Feller, you sure are cute." Wes smiled at him but didn't get a smile back. "Hehe, do you think I'm cute too?" He waited. No response. "I'm Wes. You see my shirt? That's my name. It says Wes. Would you like a shirt with your name on it?" "I know who you fucking are! I can fucking read! I'm not a fucking idiot, you know!" The boy can speak! He speaks like the proverbial sailor, but at least he speaks. Wes smiled at him. This morning was not the way Wes had dreamed it would be, but somehow Wes felt good. Someone needed to be there for this vulnerable youngster, and Wes was glad it was him. He tried to reposition himself to make them both a little more comfortable, and found himself now lying on his side on the ground, foul-mouthed Petey still clinging to his leg. Wes started singing softly and slowly, "You got a nose that is mighty fine." He thought he saw a little glimmer of a smile, so he continued with ear, then chin, eyebrow, shoulder, elbow, fingernail, adam's apple. He wondered how many parts he could come up with. Suddenly, Petey said "Ass." "What did you say?" "Shit, now you're the fucking idiot! I said ass, you asshole." Wes held back his laughter and resumed singing, "I got an ass that is mighty fine. You got an ass that is mighty fine..." "Well, go on. Don't you know the fucking words?" "...I'll hold yours and you hold mine! We both got an ass that is mighty fine!" "So?" "So, um, what?" "So how come you ain't holding my ass like the song says." "Do you want me to, Petey?" "Yeah." Petey's voice lost its sharp edge and he finally loosened his grip on the thigh. Wes wondered how long the red mark would remain. Wes held Petey's little bottom in his big workman's hand. "No, inside." Wes looked at him strangely, but complied. He pushed his hand into the boy's dungarees and under the briefs his grandmother probably chose for him that morning, and felt Petey's beautiful soft butt. Wes closed his eyes. Petey poked his tiny hand into the leg of Wes's shorts and found his crack. Wes sang the verse again and this time Petey sang softly with him. The morning was passing. Wes imagined Barry up in the tree house with a bright-eyed little boy, Jerry and Harry paddling their charges across the lake, Cookie teaching some innocent kid to dig for treasure, and here he was lying on the pavement with Petey, still in his travel clothes. "I'm sorry, Wes." "Sorry? You got nothing to be sor..." "I'm sorry I'm so bad. I'm sorry you got stuck with me. I'm sorry you ain't having fun. I'm sorry I ain't sucked your dick yet. I'm sorry..." "Whoa, there, little Feller!" Wes underestimated his little friend. All the hours in the van, all the time here on the pavement, Petey had been also absorbing all that was happening around him. He knew what was going on. "Who told you old Wes wasn't having fun. I didn't get stuck with you, Petey. I wouldn't trade you for any other boy in camp." "You're full of it." Petey finally smiled. Maybe it was a sneer, but the shell was cracked. They stood up and walked to Petey's cabin, hands clenched firmly together. Wes showed Petey the new clothes with his name. No excitement. He explained about going commando. A shrug. He pointed to the beds. "That one is Jesse's bed. Doc is going to sleep with him. And over here, this is where you and me will sleep." Silence. "Together." Silence. "In one bed." "Shit, OK, I get it." With no sign of embarrassment, Petey started taking off his clothes. Wes studied his long face. He was thinking of fucking the whole schedule and just nestling here with this fragile child, this victim of life's cruel game of fortune. He wanted to lie in bed, hold him in his arms, and show him a more beautiful world. As Petey slid his briefs off and stood there naked, Wes looked at his poor bony body and realized the boy had to eat. He needed physical, as well as spiritual, nourishment. Wes handed Petey his new shirt with his proud name, his identity. Wes knelt down and held his shorts, while Petey steadied himself on his shoulders and stepped into them. Wes guided them carefully up and sighed as his lovely boy dick disappeared once again. He tied Petey's new Adidas on his feet and took his hand to go to lunch. "Carry me." Petey's blue eyes looked up at him. "Sure, Feller. I'd be happy to." He reached down and Petey wrapped his arms around his neck. He held the boy's bottom with its fresh new khaki cover. "No. Not like that." Wes looked at the face now inches from his own. Petey indicated he wanted to feel Wes's hands. No cloth in between. After only a few hours at camp, he'd already seen several bare bottoms, on both man and boy. That's what he needed: direct, flesh on flesh, barrier-free contact. Nothing less. Wes slipped the boys shorts back down off his read end, and held his wonderful tender butt in his strong, warm palms. They went to lunch. Petey agreed to sit on the bench at lunch as long as he could hold (clench is the better word) Wes's hand. So each ate his fried chicken with one hand. Wes was happy to see the boy did have an appetite. He even had two pieces of pie. As soon as they finished dessert, Petey was clinging again to Wes's neck, and sitting bare-assed on his hands. Wes carried him around camp, showed him the tennis court, the ball field, the horses. Would Petey ever let go of his Big Buddy long enough to do any of those things? They headed back towards the cabin and Petey again said, "I'm Sorry." "I thought we settled this before lunch, little Feller. You have no reason to be sorry." "But I'm ruining your day. I see the other men. Their boys are making them happy. They're having fun and you're not." "Petey, remember the song Hi was teaching the boys at lunch?" "You mean the contrapuntal melody." "Petey, Petey, Petey, you never cease to amaze me. You are so fucking smart. Yeah, the contrapun... that one. Well," Wes started singing, "You already made me happy. That's why I want to make you happy every way I can." "Oh yeah, how do I make you happy? And don't give me no bullshit either." "Petey, I would never try to bullshit you. You are too fucking smart for that." "So I'm a smartass?" "Yes, you are, hehe. You're the biggest fucking smartass in this camp. And the cutest. And the sweetest. And I really want to make you fucking happy, Damnit. Every way I fucking can." Wes was shouting. "OK." That was that. Wes shook his head. He had taken one semester of psych at State. There was no way he could possibly figure out how this kid's mind was working. Petey had been through a terrible trauma. That much he knew. So when the people that you're closest to are suddenly ripped out of your life, when what you love most is taken away, what do you do to prevent it from happening again? Wes thought of two possible responses. You might cling tenaciously to the thing you love, refusing to let it out of your grasp even for an instant. Or you might refuse ever again to love anything. If you have nothing invested, then you can't lose. Poor Petey. Why does a boy of ten have to deal with this? Why can't he just skip down life's path, tickling his balls along the way? "Wes, can we go swimming?" They got into their matching speedos and Wes carried the boy down to the lake. Petey insisted Wes was his swimming buddy. His speedo of course was pulled down off his ass, and Wes wondered why he bothered putting it on. Petey clung to Wes's neck, sat bare-assed on his hands, and let his Big Buddy carry him out over his head. Wes was relieved to have the boy's weight lightened by the water. Wes thought the kid was like a fucking invalid. He was right. While there was nothing wrong with the boy's legs, in his heart he was not ready to stand. Only their heads were above water now. No one could watch what was happening below the neck. Wes decided to experiment. He brushed his fingertip along Petey's hole and waited for a reaction. The boy wiggled his body a little. What was that? Did he feel uncomfortable? Did he like it? Wes let his fingertip sit on the boy's sphincter while all around them, boys were splashing and diving and swimming and shouting. As he carried him back to! shallow water, Wes removed his finger from the little anus and went back to just holding his buttocks. Again, he couldn't figure out what the boy's slight movement meant. ----- Wes's first day as Big Buddy isn't turning out the way he planned. Will he be able to break through Petey's strong wall of defenses? Every Nifty author loves to get mail from his readers. Please write and tell me how you like this story. Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.