Date: Sat, 31 Jan 2009 21:11:40 -0600 From: kenlou Subject: Nudist Camp Vacation - Chapter 41 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This story is Copyright 2009 by Lance Kenman, all rights reserved. The rest is just stuff you've heard before, and you know the drill, so I won't bore you yet again! Be sure to check out my website and blog: www.lancekenman.com. My first two books: "Roses in the Desert" (eight short stories) and "Nudist Camp Vacation, Part 1" (the first 20 chapters of this story -- with better editing) are now available in print. Visit my website to learn more. Support Nifty with your donations! If you're reading this, you're enjoying free literature that others buy. That comes with a price to those who provide it. Only our donations can keep it free! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My advice to all: Live simply, love generously, care deeply, and speak kindly. Leave the rest to God. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Nudist Camp Vacation, Chapter 41 I sighed loudly and looked at Paul. "Why don't you go to the kitchen and see if Nell has an afternoon snack ready for you guys? Then you can go find Mike. I'll talk to Stevey." "Okay," he whispered and hugged my neck. He slowly released me, and I realized he was shaking. "Paul? Are you okay?" "Are -- Are you sure you're not mad at me?" He was almost in tears and it broke my heart. "Paul," I whispered, "Of course I'm not mad at you! Don't worry!" I reached for his hair to smooth it from his forehead and he flinched. A lump came to my throat and I struggled to speak while I gently stroked his hair. I whispered hoarsely, "No one will ever hurt you ever again. I promise!" He sniffed loudly and buried his face in my neck. When he slowly loosened his death-grip on me, he began to hiccough. He wiped his eyes and said, "S -- Stevey's right. You're r -- really c -- cool. I l -- like living here, and I l -- like y -- you." I smiled at him and held him by the shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. "I like you, too. I might even say I love you." He grabbed me again into a tight hug and hiccoughed into my neck. He sniffed loudly and wiped his eyes. "I -- I love you, too." Then he breathed, "Dad." I smiled and kissed him on the nose, then whispered, "Go talk to Nell. I need to find Stevey." He said, "O -- Okay," and then gave me a hard peck on the lips. He smiled at me before he turned and left the room. I watched while he walked out the door, his tight little bubble butt wiggling slightly. I remembered a little earlier when I'd seen it naked while he lay on Stevey's back and he pumped himself into Stevey. Are these the memories I'll keep, even when he's a grown man? I know I'll probably tease him about it in future years, but at his current age, he'd probably be humiliated if he knew exactly what I'd seen. I took a moment to collect my thoughts before going to look for Stevey. As I trudged up the stairs, I considered that I might not have handled my talk with the boys as well as I should have. When I reached Stevey's room, I knocked on the closed door. There wasn't any answer, so I tried the doorknob. It was locked. "Stevey?" I asked through the door. His answer was silence. "Stevey, may I come in?" Still nothing. "Stevey, please. Let me in." More silence. I reached to the trim above the door and found the hidden key. I slowly unlocked the door and returned the key to its hiding place before I opened the door. The room was fairly dark, but I could see the top of Stevey's head. He was sitting on the floor on the far side of the bed, leaning against it. I crept into the room and sat on the floor next to him, leaning against the bed as he was. A tense silence filled the room like the musty smell of a wet dog. "Stevey," I whispered, "You're my special boy. I love you." He burst out in sobs and grabbed me, burying his face in my chest and hugging me with desperation. I was both relieved and stricken. I held him for what seemed like an hour, while he cried himself out. When he finally recovered, he looked up into my eyes and said, "Why is it I have all these feelings?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "I'm not allowed to do anything I want to do. All you and my mom and dad tell me is what I can't do. I want stuff -- a lot of stuff -- but I can't have it -- any of it. I want to do things, but no one will let me do them. People make too many rules. It's just not fair." I stroked his hair until I thought he might be ready to listen. "Stevey," I whispered, "people make rules to protect you from getting hurt. There are lots of rules for grownups not to hurt you or allow you to be hurt. The trouble is, there are a lot of grownups that break the rules, and that's when you get hurt. I know it seems like it isn't fair, but maybe someday you'll be able to look back and see it differently." He was silent for a long while then asked, "Alan? Why won't you make love to me? Honestly?" "Well, the biggest reason is that there's a very strong law against it, and I could go to prison for a very long time. It doesn't matter that you want me to do it; that's just the way it is. The next reason is almost as big. I made a commitment to your brother, and I refuse to break it. Your brother is only beginning to understand how important that commitment is." I tipped his head back so I could look into his eyes. "When I commit to someone, it's for keeps. Timmy is deeply in my heart. If anything were to happen to him, . . ." At that point my eyes clouded and my throat closed. I cleared my throat and said, "You're just as important to me, but in a different way. If someone were to hurt you again, especially with what you've been through, I think I'd have to hurt someone." "You'd do that? For me?" "Yes," I whispered. "In a heartbeat." He relaxed and cuddled into my chest again, deeply in thought. "I still want you," he whispered. "Isn't it better to have a really good friend? You can still have someone to love, but a friend who loves you no matter what will always be there for you. You can always talk to me about anything, and I'll never judge you or criticize you. Isn't that a good thing?" He sighed and said, "I suppose. Alan? Is it wrong for me to want to have sex?" "Is this a general question just about having sex, or is this about having sex with anyone in particular?" "It's . . . general." "With what you've been through, and at this stage of your life, it's not surprising at all that you might be obsessed with sex. Your hormones have your body growing and developing, your sex glands are developing at the fastest rate you'll ever experience, you're growing hair in new places all over your body, your voice is changing, and you're getting more and more responsibilities. It's a very difficult time in your life." "What was it like for you when you were thirteen?" "I hated it. I felt like I was constantly running around looking for something, but I couldn't ever figure out what it was that I was looking for." He laughed. It was probably an ironic laugh, but it was a welcome sound. "It was the worst time in my life. It was different then, with different temptations and different attitudes. You've got to imagine a time when there were groups of young, straight people on television running around naked in public, having sex all over the place, but I was living in a conservative home where we never even discussed sex. I wanted to have sex every bit as much as I imagine you do, but sometimes I didn't dare even touch myself for fear of my mother or father finding out and totally freaking." He looked up into my eyes and scowled. "That must have really sucked." "It sucked porcupines." He laughed and said, "Ouch!" "Tell me about it," I chuckled. I stroked his hair as he buried his face back in my chest. He sniffed loudly and mumbled, "I really, really love you." I thought for a moment then asked, "How do you feel about Paul?" "I love him too, but . . ." "But what?" "But it's different," he whispered. I chuckled. "If I were a betting man, I'd wager that you loved him even more than you love me." "No! It's just . . . different." "Like the difference between a friend and a lover?" He hesitated. "Maybe." He was still hiding his face in my chest, and I was still stroking his hair. "Maybe, yes?" He sighed. I took that as his affirmation, but he didn't want to admit that the old man might be right. I whispered, "I love you, Stevey Smith, my very special friend." He slowly sat up. His eyes bore into mine. "Alan? When does it stop?" "Are you talking about the confusion and the conflicting desires going through your mind and body?" His eyes widened. "Yeah! That's it exactly!" I chuckled as he took my hand and began to examine it. He placed his hand against mine, comparing them. "It's hard to say. Sometimes it's easier to ignore the feelings, and sometimes it's impossible. I don't know if the feelings ever completely go away, or if you just get used to them. Whatever it is, it seems to happen gradually. It's not like one day you wake up and discover that somehow a switch turned off, but one day you might realize that things are working more easily, without all the confusion and mixed signals your body's giving you." "Yeah, but how long?" "Maybe a couple of years, maybe longer. Everyone's different. You have the advantage of having an older brother you can ask. I would think that you might develop about the same as him." He sighed. "I think it'll be okay if I go back home. I miss my room and my stuff." "And your mom and dad?" "Yeah, them, too." I chuckled. "So you're okay, now?" "Yeah," he sighed as he crawled onto my lap, facing me. He put his hands on my shoulders, studying my eyes and face. He sighed and said, "I really hate Doug. I wish he would just die, but I don't want you to hurt him. I don't want you to get into trouble." "Thanks," I smiled, sadly. "I think he's in his own private hell, now, anyway. He's crippled, and when he gets to prison, I expect that his life will be pretty miserable." He voiced my own thoughts when he said, "Yeah, they'll probably use him for taxidermy practice when they find out he raped a boy." "You mean like stuffing him through any available orifice?" "Yeah!" he said, angrily. Under my breath I said, "Cruel justice." He ran his hands across my chest and sighed. "Can Paul come and visit me?" "Yes, of course he can. But you'll have to be more circumspect around your parents than you have been here. They may not be as understanding about your sexual escapades as I am." He smirked and traced my collar with his fingertips. I had my hands on his hips. "Alan?" he whispered, and continued to look at me longingly. "What is it?" I whispered back. He bit his lower lip until I thought he might draw blood. "What is it, angel?" He smiled, but his eyes clouded. When a tear left his eye, he buried his face in my neck again and sobbed. If this was hormone induced, then Stevey was in for a rocky ride. I'm just glad he didn't have Doug to worry about any more. Several minutes came and went, and he gradually regained his composure. I whispered, "I love you, pumpkin." He chuckled into my neck. He moved so he could look into my eyes, again. While tracing my lips with a finger, he whispered, "I love you, too." He sighed deeply, and climbed to his feet then helped me to stand. When I was on my feet, he grabbed me into a bone crushing hug. I hugged him and rubbed his back. "Are you okay, now?" I asked. "Yeah," he breathed. "I'm hungry." "I sent Paul to the kitchen to see if Nell had fixed anything to snack. Let's go see if he found anything." "Okay," he said, as he wiped his nose and face with his hands. I handed him my handkerchief and he blew his nose. With a little encouragement, he went to his bathroom and rinsed his face. I waited for him to dry himself. As we were leaving Stevey's room, we saw Paul standing in the doorway to Mike's room. His eyes widened when he saw Stevey. Stevey walked right up to him and hugged him. Paul looked over Stevey's shoulder at me with questions in his eyes. I smiled at him and nodded. In the meantime, Mike rushed past them and hit me in the belly with his forehead as he grabbed me around the waist. I let out a grunt and chuckled. While Mike wasn't looking, Stevey held Paul's face in his hands and kissed him with one of the most passionate kisses I've ever seen. At least he was directing all of that emotional energy at Paul for a change and not me. "Hey, Mike," I said in a low voice, "You hungry?" He looked up at me and nodded vigorously. "Let's go to the kitchen and get Nell to fix you something." He smiled and almost nodded his head off. I laughed and took his hand. By then, Stevey had ended his kiss with Paul. Their lips looked quite red and bruised, but what can you do? Mike and I led the way. I felt like Christopher Robin as Mike bounced along like Tigger and I tried to keep him from crashing into the walls. I laughed to myself and envied his energy. Stevey and Paul walked behind us holding hands and whispering. It was a dramatic improvement to what they'd been doing earlier. Cheryl was just pulling a blueberry cobbler out of the oven when we got there, and Nell was examining it with a spoon. "Hi!" Cheryl said, cheerily. "Paul said you guys were hungry, so we fixed something to tide you over until supper!" Nell quickly corrected, "Cheryl fixed it; I watched. I can't understand how quickly this came together. It looks and smells heavenly!" She looked at me and added, "I may be out of a job!" I laughed, "There's not much of a chance of that!" "We'll see," she said. She looked at the boys and said, "You guys go sit at the table and we'll serve you cobbler and ice cream." Their eyes popped and they quickly obeyed. I glanced at the cobbler and decided I'd better taste it, too. I commented, "You make any more snacks like this, and we'll all be rivaling Shamu!" Nell defended, "This is just an experiment. You'll get healthier snacks and meals after this." After we all had made short work of a modest serving of blueberry cobbler under a nice dollop of vanilla ice cream, we walked out to the toy box. I thought it would be a good idea to get them out of the house for a while. As we noisily entered the building, I asked, "Do you guys want to go for a ride?" Almost simultaneously, they all shouted, "Yeah!" "Okay," I laughed, "Pick a car and let's go." I saw Stevey looking longingly at the `Vette, and I quickly said, "Wait a minute, guys! Change of plans. Paul and Mike, you guys look for a car for us all to go for a ride in. I'm taking Stevey for a quick ride in the `Vette." Stevey's eyes popped and his face split into the widest smile I'd seen on him. "Marty!" I shouted. "Yeah, boss?" he said, making me jump out of my skin. He was standing right behind me. I grabbed my chest and spun around. "Don't do that!" I exclaimed. "Don't you know I have a weak heart?" His eyes grew wide, but I started to laugh. "Marty, would you help the guys decide on a suitable car for us all to go for a ride in? I'm going to take Stevey out in the `Vette." "You got it, boss," he said with a wink, indicating that he understood that I wanted him to watch them while I was gone. "Thanks. Stevey, let's go." I didn't need to tell him twice. He ran to the car and jumped into the passenger side. He was buckled in and rubbing the leather and touching everything he could while I got myself in and buckled up. "Ready?" I needlessly asked. "Yeah," he breathed, barely acknowledging me. I started it up and revved it a couple of times. He rested his head back against the headrest and sighed, listening intently to the throaty exhaust. I laughed and slowly pulled the car out of its place. Marty had the door open and was walking back toward the boys as I slowly took the car out of the building. Half way down the driveway, we were intercepted by Grant. I rolled down the window and said, "Hey, Grant, I'm taking Stevey for a quick ride. We'll be back in a minute." He glanced in the car, appraisingly. "Do you have a cell phone?" "I don't have it with me, but I have something better. I had this car fitted with the same emergency communications as the armored Suburban." "Okay, sir. Watch out for anyone following you." I smiled at him for his concern. "I will. If we're not back in thirty minutes, come looking for us." His eyes widened and he pinched his lips together. "Just kidding, Grant. We'll be back before then." Frank must have been talking to him about how I was always resistant to the constraints of security. I considered it a good thing, as long as he didn't go overboard with it. As I rolled up the window, I looked over at Stevey. He was becoming anxious to get on the road. I drove down to the road, and seeing that it was as usual, deserted, I turned onto it. It was the same direction I'd taken Tim in the Lambo, but I stopped in the road. "Are you ready for this?" His eyes widened with excitement. "Yeah," he breathed. "Okay, then, hold on!" I revved it and dumped the clutch, spinning the tires and causing the car to fishtail in a thick cloud of pungent blue smoke. When the needle on the tach hit redline, I quickly shifted into second and continued to smoke the tires. I did the same as I shifted through the gears, with less smoke each time. The engine was screaming happily, and so was Stevey. I was beginning to wonder if he was soiling his shorts. I was laughing so hard, it was difficult to see the road. I took the curves quickly, and could tell that the car was easily handling the curvy road with more aplomb than the Lambo had. Since Stevey had stopped screaming, I looked over at him. He was resting his head back against the seat with his eyes closed, but that's not was surprised me. He had a very wide smile on his face. I guess everyone reacts differently to the sensations of driving fast. "Stevey? Are you having fun?" "Yeah," he said. "This is even better than sex." I laughed. He had said that with such a sensuous, breathy voice, that I would have thought that he was in some kind of sexual afterglow. After a few more sharp curves, we came to a straight stretch of road, but this time, I didn't accelerate; I just kept it at the speed limit. "Alan," he said, "Don't ever sell this car. When I get a driver's license, this is my car." It was more of an announcement than a request. I chuckled and said, "We'll see." His eyes popped open. "Are you for real? Do you mean it? Can I have this car?" I laughed and said, "We'll see. That's three years away, and your tastes may change. Anything can happen." His smile was wider than I'd ever seen it, and his eyes were becoming moist. As we approached the next curve, I saw and heard a car squealing around the curve far behind us. It wasn't any kind of a law enforcement car that I'd ever seen, so paranoia immediately took hold of my emotions. After we rounded the next curve, I told Stevey, "Hold on! I'm gonna do a one-eighty!" "Oh, shit!" he whispered and grabbed whatever he could. Even though we were obeying the speed limit, we were still going about fifty when I hit the brakes, hard. Using heel-and-toe, as I'd been taught many years before, I revved it, dumped the gearshift into second, dropped the clutch, and hit both the brake and gas pedals at the same time. A quick left twitch on the steering wheel, and the car was in a slow, controlled spin to the left. As we were almost turned, I let up on the gas and pushed the clutch, straightening the car into the lane going the opposite direction. When the car was almost stopped, I shifted to first, let up on the brake, hit the gas and dropped the clutch, and we were off again in the direction we'd come. It only took a second or two, but the effect had thoroughly impressed Stevey, who was oblivious to my paranoia. "Wicked!" he whispered. "Awesome!" We were half way through the last curve, when the car that was behind us came into view and approached it at a high rate of speed. It was a white foreign sports car, but not one that rivaled the power and performance of the `Vette, thank goodness. They were slightly across the line, but went back into their lane when they saw us. As we passed them, I looked straight at the driver's face and saw a very surprised look on it. The driver was about thirty, had dark hair and a ruddy complexion, but I didn't see him well enough to be able to pick him out of a lineup. In spite of the `Vette's loud exhaust, I could hear his tires screech as he braked hard. In the rear view mirror, I could see him lose control and go off the road in a cloud of dust, as he was trying to get turned around to continue to chase us. I gave a long, disgusted sigh. "Dammit!" I shouted. "What's wrong?" Stevey asked, a little startled. "That guy's chasing us! Will this never end?" I pressed the "panic" button to open communications to my security desk. The button didn't do anything other than that. The car's system didn't need to be at a higher level of performance like the Suburban. While I accelerated to max speed, a deep voice came into the car. "Mister Stewart, this is Johnson. What's your status?" "I have Stevey Smith in the car with me and we're being chased. Alert security at my house. We're headed there, now. Don't call the authorities. We'll handle this." "Yes, sir." A moment later, I heard him telling someone the situation and that we were just up the road from the house, approaching quickly. We were far enough ahead of the guy that I didn't worry about him catching us. As I approached the driveway, I slowed to make sure he saw us, then turned into the driveway and accelerated up and almost behind the house. The guys were all hunkered down, guns at the ready, waiting for our unsuspecting visitor. I stopped the car, not quite out of sight, and we watched, waiting for the car to come up the driveway. Whoever it was, they were in for a big surprise. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To be continued . . . . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If you want to keep track of what I'm up to, check out my website and blog at www.lancekenman.com. While you're at it, make a contribution to Nifty to keep this website free!