This story is adult fiction with homoerotic episodes. If you are a minor or are likely to be offended, please read no further. If you are reading further, please consider a donation to nifty.org to help keep this service free and available to all.
Reminder: My stories are always total fiction. Yet some real events and some real places may be used to add reality.
Also please note: To provide a feeling of camp life I have included episodes that are totally non-sexual from time to time. There is such an eisode in this chapter, a conversation with the Episcopal priest who is conducting the Sunday afternoon religious service. Friends who have read the rough draft have told me that there may be readers who object to the religious content of this segment. It is my intent to offend. So let me suggest that if you don't want to read this part of the chapter, stop reading after the bulge in Eric's cutoffs makes him think he'd like to find out and skip the next seven paragraphs.
Comments and criticisms are encouraged. Please write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com.
At breakfast Sunday morning Chester stops by Winston's table to let him know that Mason Harriman was very impressed with him and to say that Mason is also "different."
"You might want to get with him," Chester suggests.
More campers are arriving and Mason is left to his own devices. Soon enough he manages a seemingly chance encounter with Winston. He says that he was very interested to learn last night about the special nature of the Choctaw and Chickasaw cabins and would like to learn more. Winston says he would be glad to tell him anything he wants to know.
"I suppose we could meet at Mr. Partridge's house," Mason says. "He's given me very nice accommodations."
"Or I could show you some more of the sights around the camp. You might find a canoe trip interesting," Winston counters.
Later in the morning they are paddling up the river toward everybody's favorite rock.
"When I was here, I had no idea about the gay cabins," Mason comments. "Myself, I was a late bloomer."
"That's the whole idea. Nobody's supposed to know. It gives the gay campers the outlet they need, and saves them from any embarrassment. Like, you know, I've been in situations where I've come onto somebody I shouldn't have."
"I noticed Chester Huff talking to you at breakfast," Mason says, changing the subject. "Please don't feel you have to do something with me, if you don't want to."
"You don't need to worry about that," Winston responds. "I'm up for anything. Being around these youngsters keeps Roger and me horny twenty-four seven. We'll hook up with the oldest boys, if they make the first move; but it's not good to be messing around with fourteen or fifteen-year-olds. Fucks up discipline."
"I can see how that would be," Mason laughs. "With a body like yours, I'll bet a lot of the young ones would give a nut to get with you, though. I was damned glad I was wearing a jock yesterday, when we were touring. Wouldn't have done for me to have been showing a hard."
"Well neither of us need to worry about that right now. What are you into?"
"Anything but piss games."
They arrive at the flat rock and secure the canoe.
"Might as well relax," Winston says, as he strips away his cutoffs.
Mason is still wearing his polo and shorts as well as his jock strap, but soon he is also naked. He has ample pubes and a good-sized tool that curves upward. His balls are good sized and hang low.
"Nice," Winston says, as he fondles the lawyer.
Mason responds by feeling up Winston's chest. "Good hard bod," he says. "I like that. And a nice hard rod. I've got to suck on that."
Mason nibbles Winston's nipples, and tongues down his gut. He laps the head of his dick before taking it into his mouth, then gobbles it up like it was the tastiest lollipop he's ever had.
"Yeah man," Winston moans, "eat that mother."
Mason grabs Winston's cheeks and slides his head back and forth on the object of his desire. Faster and faster he stimulates the younger man's prong, until Winston, who has been playing with Mason's pecs, just has to grab his ears and fuck his face until his dick erupts with life-giving cream.
"Oh god, can you suck dick, man," Winston cries.
"I just love young cock," Mason replies.
"I gotta have yours," Winston pants.
He pushes Mason back on the rock, which has been pleasantly warmed by the morning sun. There is no foreplay. He just gobbles down the older man's tool and bobs up and down on it until he is rewarded with a load of sperm.
He rolls over next to Mason and tweaks his nipples as they come down from their mutual high.
"You have a boyfriend back home?" Mason asks.
"Nah," Winston answers. "I'm not into relationships. I may be weird, but I love sex just for the excitement and fun of it all. Just a better way to get off than beating my meat. I don't think I'll ever get serious with anybody."
"You never can tell," Mason says. "I was head over heels for a young associate in my firm once. I think he had the same feelings for me. But we both decided that our professional advancement was more important. He finally decided to join another firm, before he made partner. I see him in court sometimes.
"Will you fuck me? We may not have an opportunity to get together again."
"Sure. I'd love to, but I didn't bring lube," Winston replies.
"I'd say `just use spit,' but when he saw the two of us together, Chester slipped me a small tube."
"Used to be a boy scout, he did," Winston laughed.
Mason retrieves the lube from his Bermudas. Soon it is smeared in his ass and over Winston's dick.
"How do you like it?" Winston asks.
"Hard and rough."
This time there is adroit foreplay before Winston plunges his rod all the way in and pounds Mason's ass for all he's worth. He scrapes his pubes against the lawyer's cheeks on every stroke and raises up until only his mushroom remains beyond Mason's sphincter, then rams home once again. He edges several times. Mason's ass is tight. Doesn't get used all that much these days. So Winston slips down and waits until he can begin his pounding again. Finally he must have the thrill of ejaculation. He rams his pole home one last time and explodes five or six times before he begins to soften. He sees in the eyes of his partner total exultation. He feels the same way.
After lunch Winston and Eric are both in the Choctaw cabin, and Eric mentions that he saw Winston and "that dude you've been squiring around" taking a canoe ride. "Did you take him up to the rock and fuck him?" Eric asks.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Winston counters.
"You think he'd get together with me? He's really hot for an older guy." Eric is undeterred.
"You can ask him. His name is Mr. Harriman. But be careful. He's the personal guest of Mr. Partridge. You don't want him down on your ass, if you're planning to be a grunt next year."
It is about two-thirty, when Eric sees Mason heading toward the chow hall, where the church service is to be.
"Mr. Harriman," he calls, "I'm Eric Cranford. I noticed you and Winston Evans were taking a canoe ride this morning. I was about to take a canoe out now, and I thought you might like to come along. Not much going on this afternoon."
"I'd love to do that, son," Mason responds, "but I'm committed to going to this afternoon's worship service."
Mason doesn't know what Eric's motives are, but the bulge in Eric's cutoffs makes him think he'd like to find out.
Nevertheless, in the dining hall Mason finds Fr. Stone preparing for his service. About eighty chairs had already been set up in front of the stage.
Mason introduces himself and asks permission to "sit in," saying that he's visiting Mr. Partridge for the weekend, adding that he is a former camper "from many years ago" and that he is also an Episcopalian.
"You are certainly welcome," Fr. Stone says. ""Maybe I could impose on you to read the lessons."
"I'd rather just observe. But I'm very interested to know how this diverse bunch of boys handles the Prayer Book, or do you just do a generic sort of meeting?"
"Oh no. We read Evening Prayer. I print out copies of the office so each boy can follow along. And before we begin I explain what we are going to do, and I take questions. Some of the questions are very interesting, like `Why do I wear a dress?' So I get to explain about cassocks and surplices.
"A number of the boys have told me they enjoyed worshiping in a way they're not used to."
Mason is very impressed, and after the service asks for Fr. Stone's card. He plans to make a donation to his discretionary fund.
At dinner, Malcolm makes his usual opening address and introduces Mason as "a former camper visiting us from Philadelphia." Then, he, Chester, and Mason head to the house for a final evening of highballs and conversation.
"It's been a wonderful visit," Mason says.
"It's been wonderful having you," Malcom replies. "We do hope you'll consider sending a second camper next year."
"Oh I'll definitely do that, but they must come to different sessions.
"By the way," Mason continues, "When I was on the way to the church service this afternoon, I was approached by a young man who offered to take me on another canoe ride. If he was really suggesting what I think he was and I had gone for the ride, I hope I would have had the strength not to violate the law. But I must say that I was tempted."
Chester immediately interjects, "Oh, I'm sure Winston wouldn't have told a camper that you were..."
"Oh no. That's not what I was implying at all. The boy didn't make any overt intimations. He did say that he had noticed me and Winston canoeing, though.
"Let me think...I believe his name was Eric Something."
Both of the others broke out in raucous laughter.
"You were definitely being propositioned," Malcolm tells Mason.
"Eric is one of our few twelve week campers. From what we hear for at least the last three years he's fucked or been fucked by any willing body up here. Maybe longer than that. But he's a perfect camper. Athletic. Cooperative. I'm hoping he'll apply to come back next year as a grunt and go on to become a counsellor."
"Only problem will be," Chester chimes in. "He'll have to keep his dick where grunts have to keep it. No fucking with the campers."
Next morning as Mason is leaving for the Atlanta airport, he spies Winston qualifying swimmers. He stops the car and goes over.
"Winston, don't let me interrupt what you're doing, but I wanted to shake your hand again and thank you for being such a good guide."
"I was glad to do it, sir."
Eric, watching from afar, thinks, "Yeah, they were up there fucking for sure."
Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.