Date: Thu, 24 Apr 2003 00:54:41 EDT
From: KissAndCuddleGem@aol.com
Subject: Camping Capers With My Grandpa (Installment 4)

This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.

Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this story is presented
with the intent to condone, approve, or sanction their behavior.

The above-expressed disclaimer also does apply to any and all installments
of this story, including those preceding and following this installment.

All questions and/or comments are welcome; and, if you wish to contact me,
please feel free to email me at: KissAndCuddleGem@AOL.COM; and I will most
definitely respond to email, as appropriate.


Somewhat embarrassed and, most of all, not wanting Kenny, Jr. to worry
about me, I went upstairs to bed and within minutes found myself in a
peaceful, deep sleep.  But then things changed: I was restlessly moving
about my bed, pulling at the covers and clenching the pillows with the
tightest of grips.  In my mind, I heard a familiar voice I recognized as my
own and shouts of "Jeffie!...Jeffie!...Jeffie!" repeated over and over as
if the needle had become stuck on some oldie on some antiquated phonograph
record player.

I pulled the feathery plump pillow out from under me with one big tug to
purposefully awaken me from this horrific nightmare.  I exhaled, largely in
relief that it was only the worse of dreams.  Still, the dream had the
effect of making me recall a similar nightmare I had initially had a long
time ago while in my teens; and so I soon found myself drawn back in time
to that time in my youth when I was living with Grandma and Grandpa in that
quaint New England town.  Once again I let go and was fully rapt in my
reverie.

It was the weekend right before the weekend of Cousin Georgia's wedding;
and Cousin Georgia was in the living room for what must have been her final
wedding gown fitting, with Aunt Charlotte and myself looking on and Aunt
Charlotte noticeably beaming with pride.

"Georgia, oh, you are so beautiful my dear...you are quite a peach.", Aunt
Charlotte remarked.

Cousin Georgia looked up and smiled at her mother, her complexion all
radiant.  Cousin Georgia gave me a big hug; and said that she loved me very
much and was proud to have me as a member of the wedding party, that she
could not care less if others objected to me being much too old to serve as
ring-be

I joked to myself: "Well, young man, I hope you are pure enough for the
part!  They are counting on you."

 was much more at ease about Grandpa, our secret relationship, and the
"camping capers" he and I had together; and appeared to Grandpa to be much
more relaxed than in the early stages of our secret relationship when all
alone with him.  I had reconciled in my mind the fact that, good or bad, I
was deriving great pleasure and enjoyment from what occurred between us.
Yet I was still at times riddled with guilt and feelings of shame: I simply
dealt with those things in private while in my room at home.

All seemed to have returned to normal, or at least close to that, from my
point of view.  One day Grandma commented to Grandpa: "Carl, I think it is
just swell that you have, with Kenny, re-discovered the joys of the great
outdoors.  I must say that the fresh air and sunshine seem to be doing our
young Kenny a world of good; and, in addition, have had the extra bonus of
keeping you in high spiritis for our 'private times' alone together."

Well, granted, we probably would never be the subject of a Norman Rockwell
painting; but we seemed to be approaching that wholesome family image yet
once again, I was beginning to believe.

Grandpa, however, did have me worried: For reasons that I really could not
fully grasp, he took unnecessary chances while we were together on our most
recent camping ventures at Forest Grove.  One day we had arrived at the
park later in the day than usual; and upon nearing the upper part of a
pretty much-deserted nature trail, we spotted a couple of families with
young toddlers gathered at picinic tables and laughing at the antics of a
children's clown.

This sight seemed quite unexpected to me, I mean we were certainly not
quite yet in the heart of the place's popular season.  Then, again, I could
understand the parents liking the idea of the park for a birthday
celebration with a barbecue and all the rest of the things that came with
such an outing.

Grandpa, as if reading my mind, said that we would this time camp out at
the northern end of the park.  He related that except for one or two avid
bird-watchers more likely than not only ending up there from a wrong turn
with their maps, we were completely safe there and wsould have full
privacy.  Yet, I had my doubts; and even at times I had the strange
sensation that I was being watched.  Though it might have been through
binoculars from afar, it was still voyeurism of course, I thought, and very
much unnerving to me.

Well, Grandpa and I were pretty much in our usual routine this day.  We had
gone to a fresh-water lake; and were skinny-dipping there and just enjoying
ourselves and the freedom that came with being in our "natural states", as
Grandma so often would delicately put it.  Grandpa waded out to where I was
standing, motioning for me to remain right where I was.  He stood right in
front of me, smiling down at me.  I noticed that the smile he had on was
the spitting image of the one he often wore while we were "together" in the
tent.  He looked down into my eyes and wrapped his arms around my waist.
It seemed that in the water, the difference in our heights was ever more
pronounced to me.  My cheeks were just barely level with his nipples.  I
was shivering while in his grasp, at one point begging him: "Grandpa,
please, someone might see us here...we really shouldn't...I mean right
here...."  Grandpa's smile broadened even more than usual, upon hearing my
plea; and I felt his thick cock rise up between my legs: It seemed that the
prospect of "getting caught" was very much turning Grandpa on and, truth be
told, perhaps me as well.

"Kenny, please...you worry too much, much too much...keep this up and you
will end up with ulcers...."

I was just about to say something in response; but it was too late: Grandpa
was kissing me right then and there, deeply, passionately, and with a great
deal of tongue action thrown into the mix.  I completely threw out of my
mind whatever it was I was about to say; and just tried to focus on still
being able to breathe.  I was his, utterly and completely his, and he knew
it all right to be so.  Grandpa's cock was now rock hard: I was thinking
that I would turn around and let him bury that cock deep within me.  But
Grandpa wanted to just stand there and kiss me, but very soon I noticed
that he was doing something more to add to all of this kissing: He was very
slowly, very methodically, rubbing the lower part of the shaft and the head
very softly against that extra-sensitive highly erogenous area between my
sac and my pucker of a hole.  It just felt so right, I just stood there
almost oblivious to the light thrusting of his hips but very stimulated by
the intimacy, by the sensuality, by the myriad of sensations.

Then there was another time, while we had been barbecuing till very late at
night.  Grandpa thought it was a good time for us to really have the true
outdoor experience, and, almost comically, spoke in disdain of the spoiled,
pampered version of sleeping in a tent.  Grandpa, frankly, in truth, would
have preferred to sleep in a tent; but when Grandpa had one of his whims, I
knew already from experience, it was simply best for all concerned to go
along with him on things.

Grandpa and I had basically stuffed ourselves to capacity with burgers, hot
dogs, Italian heroes, and vegetarian skewers.  We were drinking a great
deal of root beer and also some of the non-alocoholic apple cider Grandma
had insisted we take with us this time.  Grandpa and I were sitting around
the campfire, toasting giant marshmallows, after we had taken a brief
stroll down a nearby trail to sort of burn off a few of the calories, I
guess.  Well, Grandpa sat very close to me, staring intently into the fire
and in a voice with a very deep resonance softly, slowly, somewhat
steadily, recounted tales and still more tales about days in his youth
while away right here for sleepaway camp at Forest Grove.  Grandpa told
tales of thumps heard in the night, of doors to bungalow-style dwellings
carefully locked, even double-checked as to being locked, and then found
mysteriously open, unlocked, and slightly ajar in the early hours of the
morn.  Then he, at one point, told of being awakened by footsteps near his
bed; and of going to the shower are his group of campers shared to
investigate, all alone and still in total darkness; and that, to his
horror, there was a bloodied hand right there on the tiled shower floor and
it was still squirming, or so he claimed.

I began to cry, right there, I was sobbing.  Poor Grandpa was horrified at
this reaction: He had thought that I would become even hornier than usual
as a result of being in the dark with him and hearing these ghost stories
which seemed to have some grain of truth in them.  But Grandpa forgot how
sensitive I can be and how, though approaching young adulthood, still not
even fourteen and extremely impressionable.  Grandpa took me in his arms
and held me, sometimes kissing me on the shoulders and on the cheeks.

"Kenny, I did not want any of this, I did not mean to make you cry.  I just
want us to sleep out here under the stars together, that's all.  It will be
very romantic."

"Yes, but, Grandpa, we are right near the path that leads to the restrooms.
Other campers could be about...."

Grandpa dismissed this thought as ridiculous, explaining to me that the
only one that would be about this section of the park would be the park
ranger; and that he will be more than welcome to join in on our "fun".

The image that presented made me smile: Grandpa, seeing be in better
spirits again, relaxed.  He brought out the blanket lining the ground of
our tent and his sleeping bag alone.  I was going to climb in dressed,
figuring I would be warmer.  Grandpa understood, reading my thoughts as
usual, and stated: "Kenny, come on, don't worry....baby, I will keep you
warm, just let me keep you nice and warm."  His expression had this
lascivious leer marking it; and I sort of felt like a vulture being savored
by its prey, especially as Grandpa licked his lips so openly, almost aware
he was doing it it seemed, anticipating, savoring.

Grandpa slowly undressed me, kissing and licking every single part of me as
he removed every single article of clothing covering me.  Within the next
moment or two, Grandpa dropped what he was wearing, which was just a pair
of shorts and boxers; and we were snuggled up closely in his silk-lined,
lightly quilted bag.  As he pointed out the stars to me, the various
constellations, out that eve, I just wanted to enjoy things for what they
were: I was very horny and unabashedly semi-hard; and I felt very loved and
very safe nestled in his arms.  He was caressing my buns, but sometimes
alternating the gentle caressing with very firm squeezing, panting all
throughout the loving: usually right up against my shoulders but sometimes
against the nape of my neck, giving me a tingly thrill that made me get
harder and feel hotter than I had ever felt while "with" him.

Within a one-half-hour period, we had fallen into sleep in each other's
arms right there in the open and, romantically, under the stars.  Grandpa
had made love to me an endless number of times before we nodded off; and in
the morning his thick magnificent potent cock was buried deep inside me to
my glee when I awakened.

All was right, or so it seemed.  Anyway, the next night, we were home,
playing our loving teen and father-figure roles to the hilt for Grandma's
benefit.  We went to bed a bit earlier than usual, as we were beat from our
trip.

We came back rather beat from our trip.  At Grandma's insistence, we all
retired to bed after a light supper and a brief board game.

The next few days I spent with Lulu, romancing her: We went to the movies,
the video arcade, and her favorite neighborhood pizzeria: Lulu barely ate
anything most of the time, saying she was on some diet for the upcoming
wedding.

Then Thursday night rolled around; and Jeffie stormed in just before
dinnertime, all full of energy and, frankly, sickeningly perky.  This was a
bit of a surprise for me, as I had completely forgotten we had even made
plans for his coming over for a sleepover in my home.  We had not been
spending as much time together as we used to these past several weeks; and
I found myself just staring at him like he was an alien from outer space.

We were about to say our "good-nights" and put the lights out, when Jeffie
interrupted: "Kenny, I wanna go camping with you and your grandpa real
soon...you just gotta let me come with you, you just gotta."  Jeffie seemed
so earnest at this: it was almost startling.

"Jeffie, you hate the outdoors", I retorted.  "Besides, you are just simply
jealous, that's all."

Jeffie fell silent, I guessed it was the tone in my voice throwing him off
his train of thought or perhaps his fatigue making the effort to argue not
worth it to him them.  In any case, within minutes, we were both fast
asleep.

It probably was sometime just after midnight that I began to have this
dream: sort of a fantasy-dream I guess, but, it did not mean a "wet" dream
this time:

It just had a very real quality to all of it: Grandpa and I were out at
Forest Grove, setting up things inside the tent, all very normal with that.
Suddenly, I see a figure in the darkest corner of the tent; and Grandpa
chimes in cheerfully: "Well, Kenny, my boy, perhaps we should all get
better acquainted...After all, if there is plenty of room in this here sack
for two, I am sure we can fit in three just magnificently and with similar
comfort."

I was not quite sure exactly where this was heading, but what followed was
all very titillating to me: I was lying all streched out on one side of
Grandpa, which one, I canot say; and I was fervently sucking on Grandpa's
rounded nipple.  Grandpa was making these sweet cooing sounds of pleasure
and gently running his fingers through my hair.  Midway through this,
Grandpa turned a little bit sideways, partly facing the other way and
exposing a fuller view of the fine curves of his rather huge hips.  Upon
seeing this change in position, I turned on my side and began to lick his
neck and work my tongue down to his dippled ass-cheeks; and then slightly
protruded the tip of my tongue teasingly into his crack.  Just as Grandpa
began to moan from my tongue, I heard breathing; and, realizing in just
seconds that it was not Grandpa's, I looked up and over Grandpa's waist: It
was like ecstasy what I saw then: This vison, this Adonis, this hot
Greek-god-like muscular masterpiece of a man.  I simply could not help
myself, I was visibly turned on by his distinct beauty; and I found myself
equally aroused by his passionate embracing of Grandpa as he was kissing
Grandpa, on his neck, his lips, and alternating this with gently massaging
his sac and balls.  Somehow this man sensed me looking at their action; and
his face shadowy till that very moment was suddenly revealed to me as his
head turned to face me: "Oh, no!.  This cannot be!  Oh, my God!", I was
repeating over and over, following this in quick succession with:
"Not....Jeffie!, Jefffie!, Jeffie!...."

I am almost certain I must have been screaming "Jeffie!" for real, out loud
I mean, as Jeffie had been awakened and embraced me.  He kept saying over
and over: "Kenny, it was just a bad dream.  I am okay, are you okay?  You
are white like a sheet.  I'll get your grandpa."

"No!", I bursted out loud, fearing at that moment the dream would then
become reality.  But then I saw Jeffie's alarm at this, so I convered: "I
mean, it was just a silly dream, let's not wake up the folks over this and
cause them grief.  I mean I am not a two-year- old, I am probably just
stressed out from all of the running around with Lulu."

I waited till Jeffie was safely asleep, vowing to myself that no matter
what I had to do I would see to it that Grandpa never made Jeffie "his" as
well and part of his "camping capers".  At the same time, I noticed I was
now semi-hard and wondered if it were the real Jeffie that truly aroused me
more, rather than the fantasy version.  A couple of days later, Aunt
Charlotte shared some shocking things with me that put the Jeffie situation
in a whole new light.

Kenny, Sr. broke for now from his reverie, worried that, speaking of light,
he had forgotten to turn off the bathroom light.  "After all, the electric
bills are high enough this time of year, even without lights left on
needlessly."  When he returned to the room in a few after relieving
himself, he discovered that fourteen-year-old Kenny, Jr. was there, fast
asleep in his dad's bed.  Kenny, Sr. was stunned, literally stunned.