Date: Fri, 17 May 2013 07:13:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tchase Mcphee
Subject: Giv2GeT 02

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any
resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely
coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons,
of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages,
neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male
relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy
sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not
read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in any
state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your
local laws regarding such.

Following, pages of this story contain `adult material', intended for an
`adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.

% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use
protection.

Hey dudes, Nifty needs your donations to provide these wonderful stories.
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

^o^ Concluding remarks ~ reading this story could make you stiff or gooey,
so I would suggest not reading it at work... just sayin'! :)


%


Giv2GeT 02

WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

^o^

Ed suggested the men use their time wisely to prepare. With only three days
to set up, so plans would fall into place once the client set foot on the
property, was moot in whether a counselor would swim or sunk with their
success in rehabilitation.

Entering the cabin he and his client would `share', Declan took a swig of
beer, noting not much had changed over the seasons, except the gathering of
dust. After a successful two years, with commencement and completion of his
third, the cabin he used over the past 8 years had been `claimed' by him.

A fast eyeing up of the facility, looking up at the chains hanging down
from a rafter, he had to make comment, "Uh, oh," seeing a leak in the roof,
which had left the chains rusty. It would not throw a downer into his
plans, using leather cuffs as an intermediary between metal and flesh, but
if the heavens were to burst open... "Then again," he smiles, Declan
pictures in his mind the rain, seeping through the roofing, down the
chains, it might be just what he needed to revive his `boy'!

He finally agrees, "Nah," and writes it down on his tally sheet, `patch
hole in roof.'

As he has done the past year, the year before that and before that, and so
on and so forth, Declan kept a tally of what he did to a client and how
much endurance a particular client could take and other statistics, which
only sometimes proved valuable, because every client was
different. Planning from year to year, the statistics didn't match up to
every individual.

Dropping his bottle in a refuse container, Declan chills out, falling into
the bed he's occupied year after year. "A little squeaky," inconveniences
his hearing, which would keep him awake. Thinking on it, it never really
bothered him that much, falling asleep to the lullaby of a boy moaning or
so damn tired after working ass with his slick 8c.

Such thinking made Declan fall prey to slipping a hand into his pants,
right under the thick leather belt and under the elastic of his boxer
shorts.

A few hot ones flooded his mind, but none more than the boy last
year. Could be expertise, each year seemed to get better. Or, he often
rationalized, with experience it was himself who was better at turning a
boy around.

Often what happened, which could be with any counselor, a client would
`act' like his life was turned around, just to fare well with the
counselor.

Declan beat that con, not letting up on a client until the last day under
his jurisdiction, which was a period of 3 or 7 weeks, depending on how long
the client was paid up for. The 4th or 8th week was used as recovery,
though last year, Declan's client was in need of some extra time, time
which amounted to 10 days, costing the camp owners overtime, not for
Declan, but costs to keep on a doctor, a nurse and a security person.

Ed figured, hitting him with docking pay would be the only place which
mattered to Declan, knowing he was a habitual gambler, but never play the
casinos.

However, at camp, Declan's only bets were placed on whether he could
rehabilitate a client, one which, right now, gazes over to the hanging
chains and reliving it both in mind and feeling his cock grow over the
sensation of remembering his client hanging there, behind him with a
leather strap... well...

Declan only took guys on who were there for 8 weeks, because he said he had
to slowly work a guy. His only tools for doing so were in the two big black
bags he brought to camp and what he carried in his pants.

Right now, he was thinking about the tool in his pants, having had to open
his belt buckle, unzip and finish out what he started, making his cannon
grow into a mighty weapon. Thinking about whipping last year's client, he
whacked off, trading the leather strap in for his cock, causing pain to
satisfy his own pleasure, like right now, biting a lip and groaning out
loud as a spike of cream shoots up in the air, then successions of less
fortitude, streaming down the sides of his 8-inch stack.

"Oh man," he judges on last years fucks, "this has got to surpass last
year's hot shots!"

As with keeping tally of all the ways he liked to turn a client's life
around, using a heavy leather strap on the back, chest, stomach, stretching
out balls and pounding the sacs with a thin, leather whip, gut punching or
having some general fun with a client's balls, he also kept track of how
many times he fuckt a guy, made him suck and whether the victim took his
cum up the ass or down the throat. Of course, he was more into ass than
throat, but there was nothing like forcing his cock in and out of a guy's
mouth to prime his pistol!

Only gripe Declan had about getting off now and after the client arrives,
he had to clean up the gooey puddle around his cock. And he was stickler
for that too, making sure his hairy pubes were sucked clean of the warm
creme.

"Declan!" he heard from outside call him.

Knowing the voice, one of his fellow counselors, Declan gets up, calls out,
"What do you want, Dwight? You caught me at kind of an inconvenient time?"

"Oh really?" Dwight yells in through the screen door, knowing protocol,
taboo to enter another man's cabin unless welcomed.

However, standing, Declan's hand was the proponent for keeping all the
liquid stuff from slowly dribbling down his legs. Of this, he gets an idea,
"C'mon in Dwight!"

Ed had his own list of counselors at Camp Rufghup, like a pyramid of
values, at the top were those who were strongest in ideals and getting the
job done.

Even though Declan's client went out through the infirmary, the guy learned
a lot about respect, though it seemed. What happened afterwards, the owners
of Camp Rufghup had words with Ed, regarding the harsh treatment. Of
course, the owners also did not want Declan fired, but `talked to', because
the same thing could happen to the owners, which happened to Declan, Declan
leaving the camp with unhealthy complaints. Sometimes it did not matter
that the clients or counselors had to sign release papers. One thing going
for Ed, if a lawsuit was served, it never went the course and so far, since
the beginning, the camp has never experienced a legal payout.

Fortunately, Ed stepped in and whatever magic he used, which usually meant
lying, he assured parties of concern, it would be taken care of. Well, such
was the case with Declan's client, last year, Ed promising Declan wouldn't
work another year at Camp Rufghup. However, nothing ever trickled back to
Declan.

Eventually, Ed did speak with Declan, giving him a little slap on the
wrist, telling him to tone it down, but Declan figured it was clear and
free to use the same techniques as last season, changing it up a little, to
make the camp director `happy'.

Right now, having invited Dwight in, one of the counselors `low' on Ed's
pyramid, he had no problem dictating, "Get on your knees, okay?"

Dwight was a sucker for a cock and just because the cum had oozed around
Declan's soft shaft, didn't matter to Dwight, "Yeah, sure," and because
it's not the first time he's tasted Declan, "you know how I love your
creme!"

By the time he had asked and gotten Dwight on his knees, the creme had
flowed down around his balls, making the shaved orbs glisten, "Yeah and get
the balls too!"

What could have been a five minute cleanup, turned in several tens of
minutes, Dwight going beyond the call of duty, as Declan knew he would. For
every year since Declan came on board, his prep time would be filled with
Dwight's visits to his cabin, Declan making his own judgement call, as with
now, Dwight sucking each of his balls, "And everyone thinks you're a total
waste of human energy, Dwight, my boy. If they only knew how good you are
on your knees!" he laughs.

Unlike clients placed under his care and decision, Declan treated Dwight
with much, much more kindness.

In appreciation for the kindness shed by Declan, Dwight was okay with
granting pretty much any wish uttered by Declan, as long as it did not
interfere with his office duties. Because if he did manipulate any of the
paperwork and Ed found out... it just would not be a pretty scene.

But now, on his knees working Declan's balls, the slick slime scrubbed off
each by his tongue, Dwight looks up to Declan, who had taken to holding on
to the two dangling chains, "Done!"

"That's what you think, boy," Declan turns around, bends over and splits
his ass.

"Mm-m-m," Dwight replies, licking his already creamy lips.

"This might be your only chance to fuck me boy, so get that tongue busy
inside me!"

Not the first time he's worked Declan's ass, relieving the hands parting
cheeks, licking the fibers of ginger hair, tasting musky, working his
tongue deep, until he has to curl it to get the tip in the small puncture.

"Oh damn!" Declan calls out. Never a fail, he reaches back, grabs Dwight's
head and pulls him in further.

Unlike Declan's clients, Dwight has the right to back out if he feels faint
from lack of breathing air, "Dammit, Declan, you almost smothered me!"

He doesn't know why, but this is the only guy at camp he allowed talking to
him in a derogatory tone. The only counselors, Declan would tell off,
making what they said into a joke. However, with Dwight, he would
rationalize things in a way of, "Sorry bout that? Let me know when you
recover."

Almost, like pronto, Dwight says, "All recovered! Where do you want me
next?"

Grabbing Dwights nips up in his fingers and thumbs, Declan says, "Got some
new toys, if you want to help me break them in?"

The feeling, shooting from Dwight's nips to his crotch, how could he not,
"Would be cool?" he like, begged for it.

Sort of a drama was pulled off, Declan having asked in the past, before
doing anything he please, walking over to one of his big, black duffles,
dumping it out.

Walking over, it was Dwight's assessment, "Wowwie Declan, looks like you've
got some cool stuff here!"

Glancing at Dwight, at first he was a bit taken aback by being called by
his name, rather than `sir', but this here wasn't the `real' guy he would
eventually wind up with, "Why don't you pick out some toys to try out?"

Every year, for about four years now, since Dwight and Declan made the
connection, it's been the same prelude to a drama, Dwight squatting down,
grazing over the packages of newly purchased toys, "You got some collection
here, Declan?"

Laughing, it was really a hint, Declan saying, "Pick out a toy for every
part of your bod!"

"Nice clamps," Dwight says of the neatly packaged nip toys, "holding them
in his hand."

"Give them here," Declan says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Tossing them over, Dwight asks, "Are they light or heavy tension?"

"Depends on the guy," Declan replies. "For yourself, I'd say light tension,
then press the limits?"

Then, pushing the packages of other nip toys with his hand, cbt toys, a
loose ball stretcher, two or three packages of curled up whips, a few
different kinds of floggers... "Sandpaper?" Dwight questions.

"Yeah," Declan says, "thought it would be cool sanding down those erasers,
once I got them to stand up nice and perky!"

"You think of everything, don't you, Dec?" Dwight says, tossing him the
package of different grades sand paper.

Reaching over, Declan grabs up a package, filling his hand with one of the
floggers, "Tried this one out before I bought it. Gives a nice sting
without breaking the skin, if handled properly."

Sliding it out of the bag, he gives Dwight some `puppylove' taps of the
fronds against his back.

"Feels kind of good," Dwight replies, looking at Declan.

Withdrawing it, standing, Declan says, "I'd sure like to make you feel
`good', Dwight!"

There, the drama had played out, Dwight rising up from the squat, his
dangling balls drawing up into his package, "How do you want me?"

"You know how much it turns me on when you tell me how you want me to be,
Dwight."

Any other guy, they'd take Declan's orders, doing as they were told, most
of the time, which at first threw Dwight for a loop, but accepting it,
"Want me on my knees, bent over, ass spread?"

"Think again, Dwight!" Declan actually cracked a little smile, knowing it
was meant as a joke!

"These!" Dwight bends over and picks up two leather cuffs, kept together by
a plastic fastener, because they were sold as a pair.

"I think the ankle cuffs are in the other bag, if you want to dump it out?"
and to edge Dwight on, "Sure would be sweet working you eagle-spread!"

On the same plane, Dwight hurried to dump the other duffle out, stopping
for the occasional hot toy, XL, XXL and XXXL butt plugs, nasty looking croc
clips and, "What are these for?" he holds up two dowel sticks, going for a
third.

Looking around, Declan says, "I don't have the set up ready for them. I'll
let you know when I do."

"At least don't leave me in suspense and tell me which part of the male
anatomy they are used on?"

"Fair enough," Declan thought, always up for the element of surprise, "a
dowel stick for each nip and use on the navel."

Fair game, Declan didn't hint on how they were used, again admiring the
3-pack set of buttplugs.

Dwight asks, "How do you know if these are good quality?"

"I don't. Won't know until I've tried them out," Declan says, proud of
himself, "but they were on the BOGO sale and I didn't know what to pick
out, so chose them. Always good to have an extra set on hand."

"Question though, what's BOGO mean?" Dwight asks.

"Buy One Get One, at some discount. In this case I had my eye on a big, fat
buttplug, almost the size of a man's leg and had the choice of a multi-pack
of buttplugs, offered at half off."

"Where was this? Online?"

"Yeah," Declan says, "at The TooLBoX'."

"Oh yeah. They have really good quality merchandise," Dwight replies.

"Oh really? And what strikes you, as something you might buy for yourself,
Dwight?" It tickled Declan's balls, to know!

"Everything!" Dwight laughs.

So, at first standing, holding his hands together, Declan attached the
leather cuffs to each wrist. An option, either the arms could paired up
overhead, or the chains could be drawn apart, attached to pulleys, Declan's
victim's arms moved upward and out to the sides. Corresponding chains and
links, legs could be stretched outwards from cock and balls, leaving them
dangling precariously. Even though he had already shot his load, lost some
residue over Dwight tonguing his balls clean and tongue-tickling his ass,
thinking about the outlay of torture-toys, he had regained momentum.

"Y'know, Dec," Dwight says, after cuffs were affixed to the each wrist,
half of Dwight's bod conforming to the shape of an `X', "would be a shame
to just break in that new flogger?"

"Would it be now?" Declan replies, putting the finishing touches on
Dwight's left ankle, not immune to the cock and two sacs hanging in the
breeze.

"You know my weaknesses!" Dwight play up his roleplaying `sir' from the
year before, the year before that, and so on and so on.

Then, lifting himself up, from being on one knee, Declan observes Dwight as
if a Van Gogh painting, "Mm-uh, don't you look nice and `savory'," thoughts
run through the 27-year old master's head, eyes trained on the low hangers.

"Well, what're you waiting for, Dec?!" Dwight defies.

Regardless of each of their desires, Ed has to bust in, whether it was cool
or not to do so, "What the fuck is this, Declan?"

"What do you mean, `what the fuck is this?', Ed, when you know Dwight and
me play around a little before camp gets in full swing?"

Not immune to Dwight's hot, husky bod hanging there and all the pleasure
spots fully exposed, Ed was thinking `what a waste', but says without
explanation, "Cut Dwight down and go find someone else to try your new toys
out on, Declan. We've got some business to take care of."

"But we `always'..." Declan starts to protest, especially since he has
Dwight all decked out in bracelets, roaring and ready to go...

"Are you going up against me, Declan?"

He could almost feel spit on his face, Ed standing in close perimeter,
Declan backing down, for now, "Yeah, okay." Even though his cock was all
psyched up for another go around, very few things in life would keep him
from doing what got him off. There were rumors of Ed getting out of the
business after this summer. He figured if he was `nice enough', his name
could be up for the position as director for next season.

Ed was the reason he was bending on one knee again, unshackling Dwight's
ankles. He had already thought about Dwight being gullible, willing to take
abuse and that maybe next year, make Dwight his `kept man', to play with on
the side.

"Dwight?"

"Yeah, Ed?"

"Meet me at the barn, when you get the bracelets off?"

While dressing back in pants and camp shirt, Dwight shot his mouth off,
"Sure would like to try out that multi-pack sometime, Declan?"

Putting his own pants on, stuffing himself back in, barely, Declan replies,
"I'm sure we'll have a chance, Dwight. I'm looking forward to it."

Every since four years ago, each year since, Dwight has sensed Declan maybe
`falling for him', even though such a handsome man, muscled, he asked
himself why a guy of his hotness would like a cub, "Cool!"

After Dwight leaves, Declan feeds arms into his shirt, buttons them up,
whistling. Already he thought he would journey over to the new guy's cabin,
Avery Taylor and see how he's doing?!

`The Barn' was one of the recreational spots on the camp grounds.

As required by law, the camp had to employ a counselor, who, once a week
held a group therapy session with all clients, without the counselors, only
Ed in attendance.

In order for a person to assume a position as counselor, they had to
understand just what transpired at Camp Rufghup. Ed personally interviewed
would-be staff members and chose Duke Johnson, 32-year old graduate and
veteran staff on the faculty of Hickory Falls Community College, has a
masters in psychology from Coushatta University, author of the book,
`Taking The Bull By The Horns', a how-to book on dealing with gay
situations in a straight society, and road trips around the country, the UK
and a few European locales.

It was today, Ed was meeting Duke, for the second time, among the haylofts,
introducing him to the meeting place and any counselors who happened by.

Reaching the barn door, after having met Duke at his office, Ed opens the
massive entrance, sliding it to the side, "I hope you like your
accommodations, Duke?"

"Modest, but it's not like I'm used to living in a 7-room house, either,"
Duke replies, with a slight chuckle of humor.

"I doubt this will rival your meeting places wherever you spoke on your
road trip, but it suits our means here," Ed says, leading Duke inside,
flicking some switches, which light simple incandescent fixtures, hanging
by cords, shells of metal above each to reflect the light downwards.

"I've always loved the smell of fresh hay," Duke replies, stealing a piece
of straw from a bale, sucking on it.

"I'd be careful what you put in your mouth. You never know if a cow pissed
on it?" Ed laughs his ass off.

Still, it was kind of gross, Duke immediately pulling the straw out,
chucking it on the barn floor, "Ewe!"

Right on with the scenario, as he sees it, Ed tells him, "Well, not much
other than the itinerary I've handed you in the handbook, Dr. Johnson,
other than we don't go for formal furnishings, other than akin to a
barn. Bales of hay are seats for prospective members of the group you will
be meeting with."

Opening the handbook, which he had rolled up in one hand, Duke opens it to
a certain page, "I would like to go over, on page 69, what you mean by
`corporal punishment'?"

Turning around, reaching an arm up, placing it against a wooden post,
crossing a leg over the other, in a relaxed pose, Ed replies, "You do know
it by definition, Dr. Johnson?"

"I am informed of the `correctional process'."

"Which I sense you are for it, or indifferent," Ed poses to him, "or else
you would not be here?"

"I am here to analyze the results of your methods, not to criticize how you
achieve the desired result, not that I approve or disapprove," Johnson
says.

"As long as you look at it from that perspective, things should run along
smoothly and to give you a firsthand impression of how things go around
here at Camp Rufghup, I am teaming you up with a client by the name of Leon
Lloyd Justice. I think he prefers to be called `LL'."

"LL? How unusual," Duke quips.

"Yes. Your trainer will be Thomas Achille, who comes highly recommended, a
proficient model in the art of discipline. I am sure you will learn a thing
or two from him."

"That is why I'm here," Duke replies, "not only to counsel, but to
learn. Possibly what I draw from here I will use in my next book!"

Stepping up to Duke, Ed warns, "I hope you know the rules, regarding being
discreet, Dr. Johnson?"

"Oh yes. I mean, I would not name names, only dwell on the ideas
involved. If anyone wants to know my sources, I can always call them
confidential," Duke says.

"Very well, but also I want to remind you, the man in charge of you and
`LL', `is' the man in charge. What he says, goes, or else you pay the
penalty?"

It wasn't exactly what Duke Johnson was hoping for, aside from the
experience of working at a correctional facility, such as Camp
Rufghup. Though, even though with the wide promotion of his book, it never
really sold enough to cover the publishing costs. Debuting, based on his
reputation, at #97 on the bestseller's list, it turned right around, jumped
off!

Duke had no choice but to take the position, with being dropped by his
publisher and having to take a loss on the royalties, unready for a lengthy
lawsuit. Of course, he wasn't sharing much of this with his employers,
hoping his credibility hadn't been tarnished already, out here in the
boondockies.

"When is it again the clients show up?"

"Well, for the rest of the camp, a week, but where you are concerned,
Mr. Justice will be showing up this afternoon. I'd suggest getting rested
up and settled in, because as soon as Thomas Achille meets up with two," Ed
smiles, "the fun starts!"

Ed walking towards the door, Duke tells him, "I can hardly wait."

It's not that Duke was opposed to sharing in the `disciplining', rather
more or less `asked' for it, out of need to redeem himself, perhaps through
another publisher, another publication, but was a damn good writer and just
because he had one lousy book, he wasn't about to bail out this easy. No,
Duke was driven, for at least once in his life, to have the success he
deserves!

Walking out of the barn, glancing about the surroundings, rustic setting,
old wooded building enclosed by trees...

Spotting a circle, surround by stones, a wooden pole driven into the
ground, he immediately thinks it's there to run electrical wires to, but
investigation shows there are only two huge, metal rings, attached to each
side of the pole.

Imagination running wild, Duke walks over to it, steps over the very short
rock wall, into the center, bellies up to the post and reaches above his
head. It took stepping on the toes of his feet to reach and in doing so,
his shirt tore out of the anchor of his belt, feeling bare flesh against
the rough wood. With holding on, his stomach, right above his navel,
touching, which his bellyhole had been quite a pleasure spot to him, he
held the position, because to disconnect would mean cutting off the
sensations he was feeling below the belt!

Unbeknownst to him, looking over a sprig of pine, Declan, in his search for
a playmate, had one hand holding the bushy branch down, the other hand down
his pants, holding the timber springing up from his pubic bush and stroked
to the tune of Duke, stripped, tied and ready for the lash, which provoked
Declan to comment to himself, "Now, wouldn't that be sweet!" He didn't say
it, but thunk it, after the sweet whipping, further warming up that ass!

%

Probably one of the most rationale, down to earth counselors, Joseph Walsh,
started out his working life as a student teacher for social studies. An
inner city school, very early on, he put his teenaged kickboxing skills to
work, when `almost' mugged, walking back to his apartment.

Unintentional witnesses, after some of the students from his class were
bystanders, word soon spread, `don't mess with Mr. Walsh!'

It's how `Mr. Walsh' has played it up all his life. When times dictated
dictatorship, it is the personality Joseph assumed. With sex, it could go
in many directions, depending on how he read a man, or intentions set forth
once the foreplay got in gear.

When he walked through the door of his cabin yesterday, first thing Joseph
attended to was dropping 4 bags of clothing and other accessories near the
area which resembled sleeping quarters. Walking over to the side of the
nearest bed, narrow twin sized, he bent over, reached his arms fully out to
the head and foot of the cot, picked it up and using the fulcrum of his
knees, raised it slightly, but pushed it over next to the other
one. Reaching into one of his bags, Joseph retrieved two lengths of
ropes. Lying fully on both, he reached down between the wall and head of
the bed and with one length of rope, ties the feet of the separate beds
together. Doing a pushup, Joseph pushes himself off the side of the bed.

In doing so, he laughs at what has occurred, laughing, "Never fails!"

Whether some other guy, or himself, as what has happened, he doesn't allow
his shirt to fall down just yet, holding it up, admiring his worked abs, a
hand planing over his stomach in a circular motion, feeling up the ripples,
joking to himself, "I sure hope Eddie likes the taste of manfur!"

Sometimes Joseph psyched himself out, thinking how hot it would be to have
a tongue recognize each indentation of his sixpack, but more important was
a guy's inner-mind GPS, finding his way `south'!

Thinking too hard on it, when he bent down at the foot of the bed to tie
the other rope, uniting the two cots as one, his pants really stretched!

Standing, he rubbed himself, but Joseph was far too horny for the guy in
the portfolio handed him. The gym picture of Eddie had really done it for
him. In the past 4 seasons at Camp Rufghup, every portfolio picture had
been a headshot. Lucking out this year, full bod shot, shirtless, it was a
sight to behold and Joseph was making the most of his anticipation.

It had been a long journey, from the school he held the position of crisis
counselor. Instead of jetting into the local strip, Joseph decided on a
road trip. As a result of driving 3 1/2 hours, he was a little beat, but
mostly because the air conditioning in his truck quit the last leg of the
trip.

Without even unbuttoning his khaki shirt, Joseph took it off, overhead. As
he had felt a few minutes ago, the hairy abs, they were a bit more ripe and
sweaty, matching his head of hair and every place else on his bod. It
didn't take much for him to head towards the shower. Dropping his pants, he
scooped them up with a kick, folding them nicely and placing in a
cubby. There were no dressers, nor armoires, but square cutouts to place
clothing, or a tall opening with a bar across for hanging up stuff.

From there, in the raw, it didn't take much to coax Joseph towards the
shower.

Today was almost a carbon copy of yesterday, except joining the beds
together. However, reporting back to his cabin, coupled with the heat of
approaching noon, he went right at stripping down and with a towel over his
shoulder, headed right into the shower area. As the heated water streamed
down, Joseph snapped his fingers, having forgotten to take a bar of
soap. He didn't care. First hot, he cooled down after rubbing his hands all
over himself, making sure his cramped up crotch was squeaky clean. Of
course, as his mind lost control, he slowly made himself very hard.


"Having fun?"

Turning around, Joseph was caught. However, it being a familiar face, he
left his hand in place, replying, "Didn't your elders ever teach you to
knock?"

Ed Farley, standing there, a shoulder to the side of the doorless entryway,
says, "If I stood there long enough, I'd probably get hard myself and
then... who could predict what would happen, Joseph?" Ed glances down at
the hand wrapped around the sopping wet cock.

"Drop your pants, Ed, and I'll show you how things could end up?"

"Sorry, but you know the rules, `no fraternizing with other personnel'?"

"Is that your rule or directly from the manual, Ed?"

All around there were all kinds of enticement, and all around there was
plenty of it, to remain in the position he was in, Ed Farley had to
overlook comments such as this, producing a sheet of paper, "I have some
additional comments, an addendum to your file on Eddie Raleigh."

Slowly starting to build up the momentum, Joseph requests, "My hands are
wet. Why don't you read it to me?"

Setting his own rules, about participation, or not, it didn't hurt Ed's
pride to stand there and what better way than what Joseph proposes, "Very
well. It says here, according to Eddie's psychologist, he was sexually
abused as a child by an uncle," eyes up Joseph almost fully erect, cock
parallel to the floor, "bullied from junior high school, into high school,"
bites his lip for a second Ed continues, "physically bullied by a senior,
then when the student graduated, the `abuse' was `passed down' to
succeeding tormentors. Deceived into going on a senior trip, Eddie was used
not only by schoolmates, but also hired out to motel employees and
guests. Sad, huh?" Ed presented, but not sad he stood there watching Joseph
buck his hips!

"Just... a minute, Ed!"

Good thing Joseph called time out, Ed not wanting to go back on his
principles, but feeling the need to work his hard shaft, even though he
kept it under wraps.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" Joseph squinted his eyes, still stroking as
white goo shot out, trickling down into the drain.

All Ed could think to himself is, `What a waste of energy!' he smiles. With
things winding down, Ed asks, "Are you quite finished, Joseph?"

"Give me a second to collect myself," which had two-fold meanings, catching
his breath and making sure his pubes still weren't all gooey!

"I'll wait," Ed replies, though when he got back to his own cabin, he knew
he would have to clean his own pubes and wash out his soiled briefs!

Shutting the water off, jets running dry, Joseph announces, "I'm done!"

"You're such a tease!" Ed says, watching Joseph pull a towel from the rack,
but place it around his neck and not around his hips!

"Just in case you change your mind, Ed... I mean I'm up for another
volley!"

"No thanks."

At which point, Joseph uses the towel to dry off, placing a foot on the top
railing of the bottom of the bed, to make sure everything in the fold of
his legs is quite parched.

To this, Ed says, "Interested in hearing the rest of Eddie's transcript?"

"Sure," Joseph places his elevated foot on the floor.

It's not that Joseph was uncaring about Ed telling him about Eddie, due to
his failure to carry on a happy social life, as college followed, the
personality conflicts, discovery of sado-maso tendencies and eventual
assault on a student, mistook for standing up for himself, which by matter
of circumstances, Eddie was spotted throwing a retaliatory punch, "I've
seen it over and over again Ed."

"Good," Ed replies, "then I know I have the right person matched up with
Eddie!"

"I'm used to working with high school students, Ed, not a 25-year old?"
Joseph rants.

Handing Joseph the paper, Ed gleefully says, "I'm glad we're on the same
page, Joseph. I'm sure you'll figure something out," and he was gone.

It wasn't the first time Joseph had read a student profile which included,
he reads it out loud, "Sado-maso tendencies."

He wasn't a psychologist, though had college courses to back up his
position of counselor at a high school. Quite a few times a session might
include the exact terminology, or something resembling the need to give or
get pain.

The one thing which did not fit into all this, was Eddie's physical
state. Placing the page into the folder given him at the meeting, Joseph
shuffles through the batch, unearthing the picture he first lay eyes on,
"Hm-m-m," he rubs his scruffy chin, holding it up, leaving the folder
positioned on a table.

Joseph knew what it took, first hand experience, to mold a bod into a
vision of perfection. When it came breaking down muscle and rebuilding it,
discipline in keeping up with it was moot. Glistening in the rectangular
picture, longer from top to Eddie's feet, Joseph knew what it took to work
up a sweat like Eddie wore. He comments to himself, "He's no slacker,
that's for sure!"

One thing which mattered in all of this `camp thing' to Joseph, was initial
attitude. It could tell a lot about how things were going to lean, either
compatibility or friction in their camp relationship. Right now, he was
thinking on how cool it would be to have, rather than grueling discipline
sessions regarding an unruly camper, more compatible, in many ways.

Then the horrors set in, "What if..." he was about to end this sweet dream,
"Dammit, I sure hope he isn't..."

Left unsaid, Joseph pondered, staring into the eyes of the dude in the
photograph, cruising down his bod again. This time, fingers ran down the
middle of Eddie's chest, as if he were standing there in person, over the
abs and as if Joseph were targeting the area, drew a circle around an area
of Eddie's gym shorts, zeroing on objects of Eddie's anatomy. Finally,
Joseph, inadvertently allowing his own `objects' overrule his mind, lays
down on one of the conjoined bunks, and already half there, raises his
shaft to full staff with his free hand.

By the time Joseph had freed up his pent up emotions, Eddie's beautiful
photograph was a little crumbled, reason being, in the throes of coming,
Joseph had taken it, fallen into a stupor over the beauty of Eddie's
muscled bod and with the foto faced down, pictured in his mind Eddie lying
on top of him, their bods mashed together.

Then came a knock at his door, prompting to Joseph to opinion, "Looks like
some people have manners," immediately followed by, "Oh shit!" he jumps out
of bed and with haste, looks around the room for something to `wipe'
himself on.

With no need for the foto, he does what he used to as a teenager, hearing
someone coming up to his room, stashes `Eddie' under his pillow.

When he got to the screen door, even though Camp Rufghup was an all-male
facility, Joseph held his old, musty pair of briefs over what he could.

It was an old screen on the door, showing signs of weathering, dirt and
grime collecting on every little square of screen fabric, impairing vision
from both sides, Joseph not saying anything, just looking for signs of
visitors.

Suddenly, he hears, "Hi, Joseph, Ed asked me to bring Leon Lloyd around and
introduce to everyone. Are you decent?"

`Decent?' Hardly, but why would it ever stop Joseph, in the `right
environment'?

Opening the door, he already knew the face of Thomas Achille, the other, he
assumed was the camper Ed was talking up, coming in this afternoon. But it
wasn't even past noon time, greeting, "Tommy, what's up?"

Thomas hadn't been called `Tommy' since college days. Not even as a kid was
he called by that name, "Um, this is Leon Lloyd Justice."

Regardless of being a camper or not, suddenly so smitten by Leon Lloyd's
incredibly handsome looks, he extends a hand, leading up the three wooden
steps, pulling the camper up them, "Nice meet you, your honor!"

Even though Leon Lloyd had his share of jokes, about his surname, a
lifetime full of callings, including `Justice of the peace', he accepts it
admirably, laughing, he had his own set of responses, his favorite, "Why
thank you, pedestrian!"

Yanking the camper's hand, pulling Leon Lloyd inside, Joseph thought deeply
on what was said. He knew what a pedestrian was, but how it was
used... `Look it up later!'

Door slamming shut, Thomas yells down, from the bottom of the 3 tiers of
steps and the mucky screen door, "Can I come in too?"

All ready to say okay, Leon Lloyd cuts Joseph off, "Sure you can," pulling
on the screen door, holding it for Thomas.

Walking in, the first thing to strike Thomas in the face, was Joseph
standing there, briefs over his pubes, cemented in place by a hand, but
with failure, ballsacs handing down, "Um, nice briefs, Joseph," he sends a
message, "uh, like you're losing something, there?"

It made him look! Too late he realizes it, exactly as Tommy had described,
his low-hangers, hanging low, "Yeah, excuse me. I just got out of the
shower. Give me a minute."

They were all men, but Joseph felt it necessary to turn his back on them,
bend his hairy ass over, step into his used briefs and bring them up to his
thighs.

Leon Lloyd just stood there, enjoying the performance.

On Thomas' mind, because he had been there, done that, hundreds of times
either having a guy come on his chest, stomach, pubes or stood behind and
jerked a guy off, knew how `wet' pubes looked. Yeah, he knew, right before
he stepped into Joseph's lodgings, he had been `very busy!'

Turning back around, everything really packed into his briefs, Joseph says,
"Give me a minute while I throw on something?"

With a smirk on his face, and because he was the mentor for a large core of
employees, Leon Lloyd strategizes, "How about we just even up the score?"

From Thomas or Joseph's perspective, this could have been constituted as
the beginnings of a threeway interface between the three.

However, it was not Leon Lloyd's intentions, to show off how big his cock
and balls were, or his ability to put them to use, but to mock Joseph's
build with his own sixpack abs and lean, contoured shape of his bod,
stripping off his golf shirt, "I guess you spend about as much time in the
gym as I do, huh?"

`Dammit!' Thomas' balls were already churning!

With the ability to handle things as they come, Joseph says, "Maybe even
more!" he laughs, following through on feeding his legs into his pants.

Seeing maybe he touched a wrong nerve, Leon Lloyd backs down a little, "By
the looks of those big guns, I would say so!"

`Hmm, reverse psychology,' Joseph thought, but sensed something more,
walking over to the invited `guest', placing the back of his hand against
the southern portion of hairy abs, "Not too bad yourself!"

Not so hasty in wanting to get with the sex, even though he knew it would
pan out to be a hot encounter, as Leon Lloyd set out for himself before he
reached Camp Rufghup, that he would most likely be surrounded by hot guys,
some of them being gay, already had it in his mind to override his thoughts
and those of others, with the reasons for being there, hooks his index
finger and like lifting something diseased off of himself, winds it around
Joseph's index finger, craning it off his stomach, "Perhaps a man of your
physical structure," still engaging fingers, "wouldn't mind taking on some
warrior events this afternoon, with my trainer and I?" Turning to Thomas,
Leon Lloyd asks, "If it's all right with you, Tom?"

`Tom', `Tommy', it all was good. Thomas knew about this stuff, having been
cast as a supporting character in several porn films, whereas he `hung
around' on an `x' frame, dangling as a prop for some other poor guy,
getting his nuts knocked around or ass paved red.

However, he was supposed to be a trainer for a Warrior event, conjuring up
all his acting experience, walking over to Joseph, giving him a fake, macho
tap of a fake fist against his stomach, "If he can take it!" Though it made
Thomas think twice, after the faux gut-punch, feeling up, not tender,
flabby fat, but taut muscle!

"Why not? What else am I going to do with all this free time on my hands?"
Joseph cheerfully replies.

Proud of himself, Thomas felt like he passed first base in his attempts to
impersonate a camp physical ed trainer, who could act tough, dictate orders
and command responses from others, reflecting his high and almighty
authority, "Great. Ready?"

"Now?" Joseph says.

Being cute, but also with intentions of pulling Joseph's ripcord, Leon
Lloyd says, "Unless Joseph needs some more of his beauty-sleep!"

In his job, as CEO of a company, Leon Lloyd had to be on his toes.
Observant as Thomas could be, yeah, they both noticed the wet pubes, but
for Leon Lloyd `s recollection, also the wrinkled spread on the bed, plus
some object sticking out from under the corner of the pillow. With
detective-like skills, Leon Lloyd knew he and Thomas had happened on more
than Joseph coming out of the shower. If he had, his whole bod would be
moist and not just trimmed pubes!

%

Copyright 2013 T. Chase McPhee

`Giv2GeT', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made
part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.