Date: Mon, 21 Mar 2011 20:47:17 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Malcolm 16

Be advised that in the following one will find graphic sexual depiction
between minors and minors and adults. The story is fiction but based on
real characters, events, places and situations. There is no relationship
between the names used and that of any real person.  Send comments to
michaelpete@hushmail.com.

Michael Peterson

MALCOLM

CHAPTER 16 -- CAMP McFARLAND 1952

	Monday morning, after an early breakfast, Mother drove me downtown
to the Camp McFarland bus. There were nine of us this time, one about my
age. Name tags with our names and cabin assignments were pinned to our
shirts.

	The one my age was named Butch Stevenson. He lived in one of the
large houses well into the well-to-do neighborhood across the boulevard
from Edward's Supermarket and was in the sixth grade in the large private
school up the hill past the public school. I was reticent to mention the
names of anyone I knew. Anyhow, it was doubtful he would know anyone I knew
except possibly the baggers at Edward's.

	Butch was a pleasant looking boy, a bit stocky with blue eyes
behind glasses and light blonde hair. He said he was twelve and a half but
didn't look it. His father was a divorce lawyer, his mother a housewife
with a maid.

	"So how come," I asked him, "you're being sent to McFarlane?"

	"My parents are going to Europe for six weeks and my father knows
some other lawyer in New York who sends his kid there. His name's Bradford
McMillan. He's supposed to meet me there and help me get to know the camp."

	"How old's he? We stay in cabin's by our age. Like I'm eleven and a
half so I stay with the eleven and a half years olds to twelve year
olds. We're gonna be in different cabins."

	"I don't know anything about Bradford, just that he's a teenager
and goes there every year."

	I told him about the camp and the activities. "You okay in school?"

	"Uh huh.  I suppose."

	"Then you can get in the sports program or the natural science
program. I'm in sports."

	"I don't like sports a whole lot. I can't see that great."

	Herbert Morrison, who had grown taller and slimmer, got on a couple
of hours later and nodded at me. We pulled into the camp two hours earlier
than in nineteen fifty-one with only a few empty seats. The noise from the
older boys had become fierce. It was good to get out into the tranquility
of the forested camp. I was assigned to Squirrel Cabin and grabbed the same
bunk location as the previous year, back in a corner. I took some clothes
out of my suitcase and put them on the lower bunk to reserve it for
Georgie. He arrived just before dinner.

	We slapped each other's shoulders. I wanted to hug him but there
were too many witnesses like mouthy Herbert Morrison. Other than slightly
longer hair than I was used to seeing on him, Georgie looked about the
same. His height compared to mine was about the same. I knew I'd grown so
apparently he had too.

	"Gees, Malcolm," he exclaimed, "you've got muscles. Your muscles
have muscles. You lifting weights?"

	"Just the same stuff we did last year and I run a lot."

	"Then I gotta do that too. I just do exercises in gym class. Wow,
the kids aren't gonna know you."

	We went early to the dining hall to look for our friends Barney,
Michael, Harry and Larry. Larry appeared and ran to us. He hugged us
both. He'd checked at the cabins for the age groups of the cousins and
Barney but they weren't there.

	We ate, the last time we'd be able to eat with Larry. The next
morning, everyone would be with their cabin mates and stay that way until
we left just before Labor Day.

	Georgie spotted Master Washburn, the one face we did not expect to
see. I'd assumed he wouldn't dare show his face around that camp for fear
of the bunch of us turning him into the police and camp personnel for
raping Barney and Michael. He saw us looking at him and waved and smiled.

	Georgie whispered, "The minute the others get here, we gotta go to
the director and tell him what Washburn did."

	I worried Washburn had arranged something to prevent that. He was
facing serious criminal charges if we told the police what he did. Perhaps
his United States senator father had done something to protect him.

	After eating, we had Larry show us the cabin for thirteen and a
half to fourteen year olds where we expected Michael and Harry would be
staying. There was only one empty bed and they were expecting its occupant
at any time.

	Master Washburn was waiting outside when we left. He was
smiling. I'm sure he meant it to be reassuring but his eyes told a
different story.

	"Look, I just wanna talk to you two a minute. Kid," he said to
Larry, "you better get to your cabin. It's getting dark." Larry walked off
but stayed hidden behind the wall of the next cabin over.

	Washburn, bent over with his hands on his knees, looked at our name
tags then at us. I reached up to cover my tag but too late. I wished I'd
taken it off. Washburn's phony smile was replaced by a leer. "Harry and
Michael aren't here. Neither is Barney. They never will be, here or at any
other camp. They're gone, period. You try to cause me any problems and
you'll be gone too. You understand what I mean?"

	Threats didn't normally bother me but it sounded like Washburn had
possibly killed our three friends. Georgie was more afraid than me.

	He answered quietly, "Yes."

	Washburn stood and left. We both took deep breaths. Larry rushed
back. "That's the one that hurt Barney, isn't he?"

	"Yeah," I answered, "that's the son-of-a-bitch." I was trying to
figure how we could find out what happened to our friends. Both Georgie and
I had been given their home addresses and phone numbers. Mine were back in
my room at home somewhere.

	"You got their phone numbers?" I asked Georgie.

	Larry answered. "I got `em. They're in my stuff, in a pocket in one
of my shirts."

	We went to his cabin and waited outside. Georgie said, "I wanted to
go down in those bushes by the church but I sure don't feel like it
now. You think he killed them?"

	"I don't know but the police would investigate something like
that. They catch people who do stuff like that."

	"Maybe," said Georgie, "but how could they prove he did it. They
wouldn't even know he knew them. If he got away from where he did it and
didn't leave fingerprints or something like that, why would they think he
did it? They wouldn't even know his name. We gotta tell somebody about all
this or he could kill us too and nobody'd know either."

	"First thing we gotta do is not piss him off," I suggested, "just
stay away from him. I'm gonna write a letter to my grandfather and tell him
everything and show a copy to Washburn."

	"Don't forget who his father is. He can do anything he wants. I
don't think you should even talk to him."

	Larry came out with two scraps of paper. One had the cousin's
information, the other, Barney's. "You gonna call `em?" asked Larry.

	I told him we'd try but was worried we'd have to wait two weeks for
my grandparents to arrive.

      We went to our cabin and copied the information Larry brought
us. After putting our things away and stowing our trunks in the storage
room, we lay as before on my bunk and read together out of a book on
volcanoes that Georgie brought with him. Master Collins, a tall, big eyed
man called lights out. Georgie dropped down to his bed.

	I lay thinking about my previous tearful first nights at camp. But
here I had Georgie who was really my closest friend next to Freddy. Martin
and I were good friends but we didn't seem to fit so nicely together as
Georgie and I. It was my great luck to have him.

	 Morning showers were a time of crotch watching. Fat Beasley had
grown a bit of pubic hair but the dick he was masturbating seemed the same
size as the year before. Herbert Morrison had grown. He was taller, had a
small bush and definitely larger peter. One of the new boys, the tallest in
the cabin, was developing but had no hair yet. Georgie looked exactly the
same. I still enjoyed looking at his strong little body. He saw me watching
and shook his head, and cock.

	Breakfast was great. The choice of food included just about all the
breakfast items one could imagine. I had bacon and fried eggs, sticky buns,
sliced fruit and orange juice. It would have tasted better if we weren't so
terrified of Washburn sitting across the room from us.

	We walked back to the cabin to prepare for the first day of sports
activities. We talked about how whether we should sneak down to the
director's office and tell him about Washburn but Georgie was wary.

	Georgie asked, "What if he's already told the director some story
or his father contacted him or, gees, I don't know. I think we oughta call
Harry and Michael or Barney first. They got telephones here."

      As we entered the dormitory, I noticed a young man with a clipboard
beside our bunk. When we got to him, he asked, "Which one of you is Lloyd?"

	"I am," I answered.

	"Well, let's get you packed up. You're coming to my cabin."

	"No, I'm not. I'm eleven and a half. I'm staying here."

	"Sorry, pal. Here it is." He showed me a form with my name on it.

	"I don't care. I'm still not moving anywhere."

	"Look, Lloyd, you have to. The director said so."

	"Then I wanna talk to the director."

	We went to his office. Mr. Barth Walpole was an older man with a
military haircut and bearing. He smiled when I entered. The master
explained the situation. I added, "I'm eleven and a half. That's my group,
the same one as last year. They're my friends."

	Mr. Walpole took the clipboard and read it. "Yes, right,
Malcolm. You're moving to Hawk Cabin with Master Nichols here."

	"But I don't want to. I'm with the kids my age like I'm supposed to
be."

	"Well, I'm sorry you're not happy right now but you'll do just fine
with your new group so run along and get yourself moved so you can enjoy
the morning activities."

	"That's wrong! I'm not moving. I'm staying where I am."

	The smile turned to a stern stare. Mr. Walpole said, "Well, young
man, you can obey orders or spend some time in detention."

	"This is stupid. I want to call my mother."

	"Malcolm, your mother put you in my charge and you are going to do
what you are told or go to detention."

	"My father paid you and I'm supposed to be with kids my own
age. I'm eleven and a half. I want to talk to my mother."

	"Master Nichols, will you please escort Mister Lloyd here down the
hall to detention."

	The master put his hand on my shoulder. I jerked away.

	"I wanna talk to my mother!"

	"Master Nichols!"

	"Come on, pal, you're just getting yourself in a lot of trouble
over nothing. There are great kids in my cabin."

	"But they're not my age."

	"They're twelve. What's the difference?"

	"I don't care. I'm not moving."

	He put his hands on both my shoulders. I knocked them off and
backed away ready to fight. The director picked up the telephone. "Master
Donnellan, would you mind coming here right now?"

	"How come you're moving me?"

	"Because we decided it was best for all concerned. Last chance,
Mister Lloyd," said the director.

	"I want to talk to my mother. You've got a telephone right there on
your desk. Call her. She's the one paying you."

	A large young man with rolled up sleeves displaying his powerful
biceps came in the door. "Master Donnellan, Would you please assist Master
Nichols in taking young Mister Lloyd to detention."

	I was going to lose any fight I put up. "I'll go myself. Don't
touch me! Where is it."

	Master Donellan backed out the door and pointed to my right. He
walked close beside me down the hall. When we got to a heavy wooden door,
he said, "In there."

	Detention was jail. There were two wooden double bunk beds, a
toilet and hand sink and nothing more. There was no light fixture, just a
single square window high up on the wall. It had a metal mesh screen on the
inside. The door was closed and locked behind me. It was Tuesday, my first
full day of camp. I'd expected to spend the day with Georgie, playing
baseball and swimming then going up on the mountain for some lovemaking.
"Sons-of-bitches!" I screamed.

	The bunks had no mattresses or pillows. I sat on one and tried to
figure out what was happening and why. Either my father or Washburn had to
be behind this unless someone had seen Georgie and I having sex. But why
wouldn't they have done something right away the previous year? The more I
thought, the angrier I became. When Master Donnellan brought me a sandwich
and glass of water for lunch, I told him, "Stick it up your ass!"

	He backed out the door with the food.

	That gave me an idea. I wouldn't eat anything while I was in
there. They'd have to worry about that. Anyhow, it was my only weapon.

	The idleness and boredom ate at me like a hundred unmolested
mosquitoes. I wanted to scream. I lay on the bunk and tried to multiply
fractions in my head then name American lakes and rivers. I slept for a
while and was awakened by Master Donnellan with dinner, another sandwich
and cup of water. My large breakfast was long gone, my stomach empty and
wanting to be filled. I rejected my hunger.

	"You hungry yet?"

	"Fuck you." I said calmly. "I want to talk to my mother."

	He left me alone without another word. I drank water from the hand
sink. It just made my stomach ache more.

	The night was strangely silent. The thick walls kept out the sounds
of human and animal alike. I shifted my mind back to geography, trying to
picture mountain ranges. But that made me think of the Appalachians where
we were, of the mountain I wanted to climb with Georgie. I had to fight off
tears. I fantasized ways I could kill my father. That worked, pushing my
hunger and boredom away.

	Someone opened the door and tossed in an old Army blanket. I used
it for a pillow until I was too cold and wrapped it around me.

	Another master brought me another sandwich for breakfast. I shook
my head.

	Director Walpole came to visit. "You are being very foolish,
Malcolm. Why don't you just go to your new cabin. Your things are already
there. There's another boy in your bed in Squirrel Cabin."

	"I want to talk to my mother."

	"I'll arrange a call after you go to your new cabin."

	"Go away."

	For a moment, I saw frustration and a touch of worry on his face. I
was winning.

	By the time Master Donnellan offered me a hot lunch from the dining
hall, my stomach wasn't bothering as much. The change of food was another
indication that I was on the right track. I went back to fantasy land and a
torture chamber I was designing for my father. I imagined him chained naked
to a stone wall like a medieval prisoner. I had hot pokers in a fireplace
and was using them alternately on his genitals and face.

	Sometime during late afternoon, Master Donnellan came to get me. I
was taken to the director's office. He was holding the telephone out to
me. "Your father wants to speak to you."

	I turned around to go back to detention.

	"I think you'll want to hear what he has to say."

	I stopped. Maybe he was actually taking my side for once. I walked
to the director and took the phone.

	"What?" I asked.

	"Malcolm," said my father, "Listen to me carefully. I just hung up
with a military camp in Ohio that takes discipline problems. They have a
boarding school too. You either do what you are told right now or I'll have
you picked up in the morning and taken to Ohio. Up to you boy. What's it
gonna be?"

	Throwing the telephone across the room was my first
impulse. Instead, I whispered into the telephone, "I'm going to kill you,"
and dropped it to the floor. I walked toward the office door. Master
Donnellan blocked my exit.

	"Out of my way, jerk, I'm going where you want."

	The master looked at the director then moved out of my way. Master
Nichols was waiting for me.

	"Don't feel bad, Malcolm, you're going to like our group. We`ve
got..."

	"Shut the fuck up, sir."

	He turned in front of me and stopped. "Hey pal, you want to go back
to detention."

	"I don't really care."

	"Once more with the foul mouth and back you go. Understand?"

	I put my hands on my hips and looked at his shirt.

	"You are one hard head."

	He continued on to his cabin. I followed. It was just like the
others with the two masters' rooms to the right and the bathroom to the
left of the entry hallway then the dormitory with its polished wood floor,
eight bunk beds, wagon wheel light fixtures and two wide bladed ceiling
fans. Only two boys were inside when we arrived. One, a very fat boy who
looked to be a head taller than me was stretched out on his bed reading a
comic book. The other was sitting at his desk reading a book. As I got
closer, I realized it was Butch Stevenson who rode up with me on the bus. I
walked on by him to the lower bunk Master Nichols pointed to. My trunk was
on the floor beside it.

	"Your things are already in the drawers. Take a look to be sure
everything's there then put your trunk in the storage room by the
bathroom."

	"Where are my books?"

	"Look for them, smart guy." The master walked away.

	Butch looked up at the sound of our voices and came quickly to
me. "How come you're here? I thought you were eleven."

	"I am." I wasn't feeling very social.

	"Then how come you're here?"

	"I don't know. Ask asshole Nichols."

	Butch sensed my anger and went back to his desk. I sat at mine and
looked in the drawers. My books were in the largest. Paper and pencils were
in the widest. I considered writing my grandfather about Washburn. What I
really wanted to do was throw something. Instead, I headed out to look for
Georgie. Master Nichols stopped me at the door.

	"Where do you think you're going?"

	"Out."

	"No you're not. You just stick around here until I'm sure you're
not going to do something really stupid."

	"Like what?"

	"I have no idea but whatever it is you're not going to do it while
I'm in charge of you."

	"What? Am a some kind of prisoner? I'm not the one who did anything
wrong. You guys are. So why am I being punished?"

	"Look pal, I don't want to argue with you. You just stick around
here until dinner time. You only have twenty minutes anyway."

	I muttered `asshole' under my breath as I walked back to my desk. I
really needed to throw something at that point. But more than that, I
needed something to eat. I asked Butch, "You got anything to eat?"

	"Cookies?"

	"Sure, anything. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday."

	He looked at me with a puzzled expression then went to one of the
drawers under his bottom bunk and handed me a package of Fig Newtons. I
thanked him and ate half the box then went into the bathroom and drank
water from a hand sink.

	My stomach didn't like what I'd put in it. I didn't eat very much
dinner. Georgie looked at me from his table. I glanced at Master Nichols
beside whom I was seated and shook my head.

	At the morning showers, Master Nichols stayed near me again. I
contained the remarks that were trying to force their way out of my mouth
and looked at naked boys. There were some fine bodies in my new
group. About half had some pubic hair, a couple a lot. At least four
attracted me enough to inflate my pecker but didn't. I was way too pissed
off. After breakfast, I went with the twelve and thirteen year old sports
group. Georgie was across the huge field from us on another baseball
diamond. It infuriated me that I was here with boys a year older and
couldn't even say hello to my friend. I decided not to cooperate in
anything they did. The trainer called for everyone to take a lap. I
walked. When he asked why, I said, "'Cause I only ate twice in the last two
days.'

	He told everyone to get on the ground for exercises. I sat with my
arms around my knees while the rest struggled with sit ups. The trainer
ignored me. I remained seated during the entire exercise session. When
teams were chosen to play ball, I hung back and was chosen last. They put
me in short left field. I sat down again. The trainer told me to get off
the field.

	When the Masters came to pick us up at ten thirty, the trainer
spoke to Master Nichols while indicating me with his chin.

	"You can sit all day in the cabin if you want or participate like
the rest."

	"They're too big for me. I'm eleven. They're almost thirteen."

	"Fine. Sit in the cabin. Leave and you go back to detention."

	"Fuck you."

	He grabbed my shirt. I punched him hard as I could in the gut and
stood there as he doubled over. The others gathered around. Someone started
chanting, "Fight, Fight!"

	Another master came over to help.

      I said, "Don't touch me!" as he approached.

      Master Nichols said, "I'll handle him."

	I put my hands behind my back and didn't move. I wished I hadn't
hit him but I didn't want any of these men touching me.

	"Let's go, pal," growled Master Nichols.

	I said, "I'll go. Just don't touch me."  I walked ahead of him in
the direction of the main building. Master Nichols walked close behind me.

	"You must be a friend of that faggot Washburn," I said feeling the
need to strike out at the person who was possibly responsible for my
predicament.

	Master Nichols didn't answer.

	"Is he why I was moved?"

	"Just shut up and keep walking."

	"He's afraid I'll snitch on him. Well, now I will. I want to see
the director."

	Master Nichols grabbed my shoulder though gently. I whirled around
with a fist cocked.

	"What about Master Washburn?"

	"I think you already know."

	"Know what?" He didn't look threatening.

	"What he did to my friends last year."

	"What did he do to your friends last year?"

	I worried I may have been telling the wrong person and got ready to
run if he came toward me. "I'll tell the director."

	"That's not a good idea."

	"I think it is." I turned back toward the main offices.

      Master Nichols rushed up in front of me. "Malcolm, listen to
me. Director Walpole is Master Washburn's relation, a distant uncle or
something. Shit!"

      I stopped and looked at him run his fingers through his hair, a look
of great frustration growing on his face. Did he really know something?

      "Malcolm, just don't do it. I'm sorry you got moved but you've got to
just accept it. If, damn." He paused. "Why don't you just go back to the
cabin and we'll talk later."

      He had me worried that I'd made a very big mistake. If I went into
the cabin, he could lock me in there and call Washburn. "Tell me what you
wanna talk about now."

      "Malcolm, the easy thing for me to do is take you to the
director. He'll call your dad and tomorrow you'll be in that military camp
and I'll still have my job. Do you realize how many politicians have their
kids working here? They can fire me if I don't do what they tell me
to. I've gotta think about this before I say anything more. Just go back to
the cabin. Please."

      "I'll sit outside but I'm not going inside."

      "Whatever. Now go. I've gotta take the rest to basketball."

      I sat outside then walked around the two cabins a few times trying to
figure out how much I could trust Master Nichols. I wished I hadn't opened
my mouth about Washburn. This could affect Georgie too. There was five
dollars in my pocket. If I ran, it wouldn't take me very far. And a
U.S. Senator could put the FBI on my trail. It was possible I was in
serious trouble. My bravado diminished with each scary scenario my mind
conjured up.

      By the time the rest of the group came back to prepare for lunch, I
was ready to deny even knowing Washburn. Master Nichols came to where I was
standing at the corner of the cabin.

      "Malcolm, I'm sorry pal but I'm not going to lose my job over
you. You've got to do what you're told or I'm taking you to detention. I'll
make it as easy on you as I can but you've gotta stay with the group at all
times. No wandering off on your own. So, what's it gonna be?"

      "I'll just stay in the cabin until September."

      "Your choice, pal."

      I'd always found a way to beat people like this. I'd bide my time and
look for opportunities. What I wouldn't do was knuckle under. They were
wrong and I was right. It was that simple.

      Other than meals, I stayed in or around the cabin for the next
several days. I took runs around the area while the rest were off studying,
exploring and playing sports, did my exercises twice a day, read and wrote
letters to my grandfather several times, tearing each up before they were
finished. I expected him in less than two weeks. I'd tell him
personally. They might read any letter I tried to send.

      Butch tried to talk to me but I was too unpleasant. Most of the
others looked on me as a pariah and avoided me. A few, including one whose
appearance stiffened my cock each day during showers, feigned walking like
a girl when I passed by. One, the fat boy I'd seen the first day reading a
comic, called me `queer homo' a couple of times.

      Even more so than my ten year old group the previous year, there was
a status hierarchy among these almost thirteen year olds. Top bunks went to
the most popular or most feared, I wasn't sure which. The least popular
like Butch were not only shunned but harassed with remarks and stolen from
with impunity. While it seemed to help, size was not a status determining
factor. The smallest kid in our group, who physically was still my age
though with a tough body like Stewart from the railroad tracks, hung with
the most popular boys. The next to tallest was the most picked on. Most of
the food he brought back from the store was snatched off his desk or even
out of his hand before he could eat it.

	Sunday morning, while the others were in church, Georgie appeared
in the door and called for me. I ran out. He led me to the side of the
cabin where we sat on the ground between two benches.

 	"They don't let me go anywhere," he said. "You?"

	"Yeah. It's Washburn. Did you know that Director Walpole's his
uncle or something?"

	"Shit! That's bad, real bad. We gotta get outta here. You got any
money?"

	"Five dollars. You?"

	"Eight fifty. We need more than that, about forty for the two of us
to get a bus. I asked a kid who lives in New York and he says his
grandmother comes to see him and it costs her nineteen dollars."

	"You know where there's a bus?" I asked.

	"Shit, no."

	"Why do you think Washburn's doing this?"

	"He doesn't want us together so we can't plan anything against
him. But that's stupid. If his uncle's the director, what're we going to
do?"

	I said, "I think one of my Masters knows about Washburn. I got real
pissed off Wednesday and said something maybe I shouldn't have."

	"Shit, Malcolm, what'd you say?"

	I told him.

	"Oh shit. What if he told Washburn?'

	"I don't think he did. He's afraid if says or does anything, he'll
get fired. He says most of the Masters are the sons of politicians."

	"We really gotta get outta here. I'll find out where we can get the
bus and we can leave at night. I'll pass you a note in the dining hall."

	He went back to his cabin. I tried to figure out why Washburn was
doing this to us. It was just making me want to tell on him. Then it
occurred to me what was going on. We were being punished for his
embarrassment the year before. Either he counted on the director and the
rest to protect him or just didn't think there was anything we could do.

	I wished I could tell Georgie what I thought.

	Our other Master, a young man in his late teens last named Gorman
with a haughty way about him, tried to convince me to participate.

	"You are really an idiot sitting here all day while everyone else
is out having a blast."

	I kept my eyes in a comic book I'd borrowed without asking.

	Shortly before lights out, one of the bigger boys, a blonde
athletic type whose voice was well on its way to adulthood, squatted beside
my bunk. I was already in my pajamas under the covers. I'd heard him called
Bert and Birdy. He was fairly popular but unkind to the less athletic like
Butch whom I heard him call him pussy several times. I didn't think of him
as anyone I'd want for a friend.

	"My name's Bert Digby. What's yours?" He held out his hand. I
pulled mine from under the covers and gave him a weak shake.

	"Malcolm."

	"How come you don't go out with the group?"

	"This is isn't my group."

	"Whatta you mean?"

	"I'm eleven."

	"So how come they put you in here?"

	"I think I pissed off one of the masters."

	He asked a lot of questions but I didn't tell him much more than
that. It figured Master Nichols sent him until the next morning in the
shower when he managed to get beside me and showed me his hard on. His
smile was a perfect example of a picture being worth a thousand words. He'd
figured me out and wanted some action. His cock was about the size of
Barney's the year before, no bigger than Stinky's. I could handle it. His
manly body didn't do much for me. There were far better in the group. But
he wanted me.

	I considered the possibility that this was a set up to have me
kicked out of McFarlane and sent to that military camp. But no one could
fake the expression on his face. I'd seen it elsewhere, on Pat's face that
first time he came up with Tommy for lunch in the classroom, on Simon's
face when he saw me the Saturday that Bobby brought him for himself but
lost him to me, even Victor's when I asked if he was interested in using my
ass for what his girlfriend had refused him. It was, however, very
risky. Since I couldn't leave the group or cabin, we'd have to do it in a
bathroom toilet stall at night.

	Bert didn't say anything, just leered. I checked to see where
Master Gorman was looking. He had his eyes on the boys closer to him. My
need for money and Bobby's example popped into my mind. Bert seemed well
off. He always bought things at the store. I pressed my hand on the back
wall with three fingers extended.

	Bert's leer changed quickly into one of doubt. He looked to me for
an explanation. I rubbed my ass and put three fingers into my mouth. Bert
turned away. We all dried off and went to the cabin to dress. Bert didn't
once look my way, not even at breakfast. He was part of the academic group
so went off to school.

	At lunch, he looked at me with a mixture of longing and frustration
in his eyes. I shrugged my shoulders and scratched my head with three
fingers. He stuck his finger in his mouth and pushed it in and out. I
placed two fingers on the table.

	During the morning while the others were away, I pushed my luck and
wandered down by the main building to see if any of the offices had a map
on their wall that I could see from outside. There was one of the
Appalachian Mountains but nothing with roads. I went to the maintenance
shed on the big boys' side of the camp where Washburn had is group. There
were men inside but the office looked like a place where a map could be
found. I'd have to come back again in hopes of finding it empty.

	At lunch, Washburn walked by my table and smiled at me and shook
his head. It was a stupid move. It convinced me this whole thing was what
I'd thought. He was punishing us.

	Back at the cabin, I asked Master Nichols, "If I go to all the
activities, can I have some free time to run and go where I want?"

	"I'm sorry, Malcolm, I'm supposed to keep an eye on you whenever
I'm on duty."

	"Then fuck you!" I walked to my bunk furious.

	Some time after falling asleep, I was awakened by someone shaking
my head. I smacked the hand away. Someone whispered, "Shhh. It's me,
Bert. Wake up."

	I looked around at the dark room. Everyone else seemed to be
sleeping. "What?"

	"I've got three dollars and some oil from the kitchen."

	It took a moment to zero in on what he was proposing.

	"We can take my blanket into the bathroom. C'mon," he said.

	I sat up and looked at his shadowy figure. The urge surged. I got
up and followed him. I saw he was in pajamas as we passed areas dimly lit
by windows on the side of the partial moon.

	He picked up his folded blanket as he passed his top bunk.

	The bathroom was on the side away from the moon and black as
pitch. I heard him close the door. "Over here," came out of the dark from
my right.

	Two steps away, my bare foot stepped on the edge of a blanket. His
hand guided my leg then reached up me and found my hand. "Take off your
pajama bottoms and lie down."

	Bobby always got his money first. I said, "The three dollars."

	"Shit, Malcolm. You're all business and you know you're gonna love
it."

	Paper was pressed into my hand. After determining it was money and
there were three bills, I untied the cord and dropped my pajamas to the
floor. He ran his hand up my leg and over my pudgy buns. I lay face
down. He spread my legs and wiped some oil in my crack. I felt him crawl
over me. His thick cock head pushed between my ass cheeks. He felt for my
hole with his finger and guided the head to it.

	"Go in slow," I said.

	I heard the sound of toilet paper being pulled off a roll. A few
second later, he poked the head inside me. It had been a while. The brief
pain didn't bother me. It was good to have someone back in there again.

	Bert pushed forward. He was well greased and slid right in,
exciting my prostate on the way. My dick grew. I lifted my ass up to get my
sensitive part off the floor. He lay on top of me and grabbed my hips. His
thrusts were slow and deep, the best kind. In the dark, my mind could focus
just on the feeling of his big cock plowing its way through my rectum and
up to my colon. He took a while, longer than most. It was fine by me. I'd
made three dollars and was receiving a great fuck. Toward the end, he got a
little rough, ramming into me with all his might. I could feel him grow
inside as he closed in on his orgasm. His fingernails dug into my
pelvis. He pumped his sperm into me for at least a minute then lay on top
for a few minutes more.

	"Malcolm, you suck for two bucks, right?"

	"Mmm hmm."

	"If other kids wanna do this too, that okay?"

	"How many?"

	"Just a couple, three. Don't worry. They won't say anything."

	"They gotta pay too."

	"Shit. Why are you so hard? I'll tell them."

	He pulled out then pushed back in a few times before backing off
completely. I cleaned up and went back to bed.

	During morning showers, Bert smiled at me and ran his hand down his
soft peter. I looked around to see if anyone else was looking my way. The
fat boy winked at me. I hoped he wasn't one of the three. His cock was
nearly as big as Bert's but he weighed at least fifty pounds more than
Robert. I wouldn't want him lying on top of me.

	At the breakfast line, Georgie handed me a piece of paper. I read
it back in the cabin.

      "`Malcolm, the nearest bus stop is over forty miles away. The
grandmother of the kid in my cabin has to pay fifty dollars to a taxi
driver to bring her here and wait for her. We can't get a taxi because we
can't call one. Anyhow, we have to leave at night and they would not come
then. We can hitch hike but if we don't get a ride quickly they can spot us
easy. If we take enough food and a couple blankets, we can walk at night
when they can't see us. The bus leaves at around three in the afternoon. If
we leave at about eleven at night and walk mostly all night going three
miles an hour, we will be twenty-one miles away from camp when it gets
light. Then we wait where we can hide and watch for cars like pick ups that
are not cops or from the camp and try to get just them to pick us up, we
maybe can be at the bus station before three. If we can't, we just hide
somewhere and walk the rest of the way at night and hide until the bus
comes in the afternoon. What do you think? Georgie'

	I wrote a note for him saying, `Georgie, I think all this is
Washburn punishing us for what we did last year. I don't think he will do
anything else unless he thinks we are going to tell on him. I am earning
some money but it will be about a week before I have enough for the bus for
both of us. I have eight dollars now plus your eight is sixteen. We need
twenty-four more. Maybe I can make that much in a week. I'll try. You
better burn or tear this note up real good after you read it. I am tearing
up yours and flushing it in the toilet. Malcolm'

	The note went into my pocket.

	I started in with my exercises. Three boys came stealthily into the
cabin. One stayed at the door. The first, named Jerry, was from our
cabin. I didn't know the second. He was bigger, probably nearing
fourteen. He was of average build, had dark brown hair and very light
skin. Jerry was one of those developing but still without pubic hair. His
body was slim up top with a bit of a protruding belly. I couldn't see more
than the back of the boy at the door but he appeared older than Jerry.

	"Hey, Malcolm. Birdy says you wanna see us."

	I shrugged my shoulders.

	He pulled out three dollars. "We got outta class for this. Let's go
while nobody's around."

	"Master Nichols is in his room."

	"We can do it between the bunks where he can't see. Anyhow, he's
sleeping same as he did last year, right John?"

	The big boy nodded. His dick size concerned me.

	"What's he wanna do?"

	"Same as me."

	"I gotta see how big he is first."

	John opened his pants and pulled out his cock. It was bigger than
Bert's.

	"I gotta see what it's like hard."

	"Okay," said Jerry, "but let's you and me get started while he does
that. C'mon. Put your blanket on the floor, and a pillow if you want."

	I put my hand out for the money. He paid. I pulled the blanket off
my bed and lay it doubled up long way beside my bunk. Jerry was out of his
shoes and opening his pants when I turned around.

	"Hurry up," he insisted.

	He watched me undress as he stepped out of his pants. His cock was
hard under his briefs. He didn't take them off until I was on the floor
looking up at him. John, whose cock was hard by then, handed him a small
jar with what looked like cooking oil inside it. John was going to be too
big but I'd deal with that after Jerry whose four inches of cock would go
in me fine with saliva.

	"Don't use the oil. C'mere."

	He grinned at John and came to me. I took him into my mouth. It was
a well formed cock, hard and full as opposed to his crummy body. I sucked a
few minutes enjoying the feel of his peter in my mouth then, after leaving
him well lubed, turned over.

	"Why don't you put the pillow under you so your ass is higher."

	I complied. He pushed my legs apart and spread my buns, then
crawled over me and poked his prong between my cheeks. I reached back and
guided him in. It was a gentle fit. He pushed in as far as he could go. His
cock head seemed to rest right along side my prostate. John sat on the bed
across from mine massaging well over five thick inches. I concentrated on
Jerry as he began slipping in and out quickly. It felt like he'd use up his
three dollars in a few minutes. He breathed through his nose in time to his
pumping. I felt his legs bounce up and down. He took longer than I expected
but not by much. He kept pumping through his first few throbs then stopped
tight inside.  When his orgasm subsided, he pushed up on his arms and
fucked a few more times before yielding to John who had taken his shoes and
pants off while I was focused on Jerry.

	"You're too big but I can suck you."

	"I'm not that big."

	"I know what'll fit and you're too big. It would hurt too
much. Just let me blow you. It's only two dollars."

	"I'll give you five and go in real slow."

	That was too tempting. "I'll try but you gotta lay down and I'll
sit on it."

	He shrugged his shoulders and sat down to spread on some oil.

	"Lemme have the five. I'll give it back if I can't do it."

	John asked Jerry, who was back into his pants, to get the money
because he had oil on his fingers. Jerry found and handed me a five dollar
bill from among the many bills in John's pocket.

	"Put some in my ass," I requested.

	"Here," he handed me the jar, "you do it."

	"We need toilet paper," I said.

	Jerry went off to get some. I sat gingerly on John's cock facing
his chest. His head was up, watching the action. If I got it in, it would
be the biggest ever. I put it at my pucker and sat down slowly; pausing
each time it began to feel uncomfortable. There finally came a point at
which the discomfort could be reduced but didn't go away. I felt to see how
much more needed to go inside me. It felt like the circumcised head was
already past my pucker. I sat some more. It didn't get any worse so I
continued down. John´s eyes closed. I felt his cock spread my rectum then
pass my prostate. Then it seemed to hit some kind of barrier. I wiggled
side to side and it popped past whatever it was. I suspected the beginning
of my colon. I felt his pubic hairs touching my buns then pressed beneath
them as I settled on top of him.

	John took a breath and opened his eyes. After looking at me flush
with him, he smiled up at me.

	I slid my feet back one at a time until my knees were on the
blanket then leaned forward and lifted up until most of his cock was again
outside me. John touched my thighs almost nervously as I slid back down his
pole. I'd thought of this move before but never tried it. As expected, his
cock pressed against my prostate as it pushed its way back inside. I
continued this maneuver. My dick was possibly harder than his. He closed
his eyes again. His hands stayed every so lightly on my thighs.

	Jerry, who had been watching silently and intently, walked off and
was replaced by the boy from the door who sounded as though he was
barefoot. He stood behind us for a while, almost certainly watching John's
big cock sliding and out of me as I rose and fell on it. I heard him
unbuckle his belt.

	John nudged me higher with his finger tips. I went as high as I
felt I could without his cock coming out of me, sat back down and leaned
back to move him around inside me.

	"Yeah, like that," he whispered.

	The third boy stayed behind me as I increased the tempo a little in
response to a series of gentle prods from John's fingertips. John by that
time was breathing through pursed lips. His abdominal muscles hardened. He
prodded again for more speed. I gave it to him though worried it might get
me off too. My whole middle was on the very edge of climax.

	John´s cock grew slowly, stretching my anus uncomfortably. His
mouth opened. The throbbing started. I sat full on him as he fired his
mature sperm into me.

	The third boy walked beside us and dropped his pants to the
floor. He wore no underwear. I saw his cock before his face. It was between
John and Jerry in size but had a full bush of very light brown pubic hair,
not much different from the color of his tanned skin above and below the
lines caused by a tight bathing suit. I looked up at his face. He wasn't
from my cabin though I remembered his handsome face from the year before.

	John´s cock deflated a bit, taking the strain off my sphincter. He
opened his eyes and smiled again. I lifted slowly off him.

	He lay still on the blanket until the waiting boy kicked him gently
with his foot.

	"Where´s the oil?" asked my third customer.

	John reached over to my desk and handed it to him along with a wad
of toilet paper. I could see this boy was impatient so lay on the blanket
with my legs spread and the pillow under my crotch. I hoped the pillow
would help me reach my orgasm. Suddenly, I remembered I hadn´t been paid
yet.

	I rolled over. `Three dollars?'

	"Shit, they're in my pocket. Wait `til we're done."

	John said with a grin, "Christ, Steve, you gotta pay the man."  He
picked up his friend's pants, found his money and put three dollars on my
desk with the rest.

	Steve frowned at him and said, "Thanks, John."

	I rolled back over and presented a target. Steve got between my
legs and aimed by sight. He jerked forward, pushing halfway in. It hurt.

	"Hey, slow."

	He ignored me and shoved the rest of his cock inside. He'd have to
pay more next time if he was going to do it like he was.

	Steve lay on top of me and pushed his hands under my
shoulders. After adjusting his body for maximum penetration, he began
fucking fast and hard. It wasn't too bad for me. His angle of entry was
just right to excite everything in his way. He felt really hard. I reached
under and put my fingers on my penis allowing his thrusts to move it back
and forth. His breath warmed my ear. He was making barely audible
grunts. He had to be close. The feeling coming out of my prostate was
intense. He punched in harder. I came, pulsing and squeezing his cock with
my sphincter. He kept fucking. As my pulsing decreased, my ass entrance
began to hurt. Steve was grunting more audibly, his breathing became
stronger.

	I looked at John. He was sitting on the floor beside us tying his
shoes and watching Steve's ass go up and down like a pile driver. I hoped
he'd come soon. My ass felt singed by his flying cock. Steve gripped me
tighter and dug his chin into my shoulder. His bare feet flopped against
mine. He went `Mmmmm!' and held his cock deep inside, pulled out fast and
rammed back in. I could feel him pumping liquid into me. He maintained his
grip and kept his chin dug into my shoulder until his throbbing all but
stopped. Then, with a sigh, he went limp and panted like he'd been deprived
of air.

	John said, "Okay, let's get back to school. Period's almost over."

	Steve pulled out unceremoniously and slapped my ass.

	John patted it too and said, "See you again soon."

	I hoped so. It was a bit rough but I'd earned eleven dollars and
gotten off.

	Feeling energized instead of relaxed as sex usually left me; I
started in on some exercises. Halfway though my sit ups, I felt a big fart
working its way out. I pushed to get rid of it. It was a wet one, like I
had diarrhea. I jumped up and headed for the bathroom. Something thick and
damp was between my buns. In the toilet stall, I found brown goo in my
briefs and all over my ass. There was no doubt it was John and Steve's
sperm. After a lot of toilet paper, I still didn't feel clean and
definitely didn't smell clean. Bare from the waist to my socks, I washed my
briefs out in the hand sink. Laundry went out in the afternoon but they'd
be wet still. My name was sewn into them so the women would know whose they
were. What if they could smell it and know that sperm was there?

	I sat on the sink and washed my ass off with soap and water then
dried it with toilet paper, all the while trying to decide what to do with
my soiled briefs. They had to be gotten rid of. I ran back to my bunk and
put on a clean pair but had left my pants and shoes in the toilet stall. I
ran back for them, worrying Master Nichols or Master Gorman would appear at
any minute and ask what I was doing. I smelled my pants before putting them
on. There was something, the slight odor of shit. I rushed back to my
bunk. This was more serious. I had extra briefs but not that many pants.

	My scissors wouldn't cut the name tag off my briefs. I dressed and
took them back into the bathroom and squeezed out every drop of water I
could, then took a roll of toilet paper and laid out a pad of it in the
bottom of one of my drawers, laid the briefs on top and then put another
pad of toilet paper on top. I put my pants on top and pressed the whole
thing together.

      The dividends from my between beds encounter with John and Steve grew
when my cabin mates came in at three fifteen. Bert, or Birdie, asked me to
join him and his friends under his bunk. I was hesitant.

	"C'mon, Malcolm. Make some friends."

	I followed him and sat at the end of the bunk opposite his. Jerry
was there and swatted my knee. "How's it hanging, Malcolm?"

	"Okay," I answered.

	They were changing into their bathing suits, slowly, probably
trying to excite me. One of the other good looking boys and a skinny kid
with intense eyes and light blond hair were with us. The best looking of
them, with a body like a slightly older Tommy Atkins, fondled his growing
cock, making mine do the same. The skinny kid had a cock to match his body,
long and slim with a tuft of hair over the top and grape size balls that
hung well below.

	Bert asked, `So Malcolm, the truth, how come you stay here all day
and aren't allowed to go anywhere during free time?'

	"I don't wanna talk about that." I got up to leave.

	Bert grabbed my arm but gently. "Wait, take it easy. We're your
friends. You gotta problem, maybe we can help, right guys?"

	The other three agreed. Jerry patted me on the knee again.

	Bert continued. "I'll be honest, Malcolm. We don't want to do our
thing at night. There's some better places we can go after school. So we
wanna get you outta whatever shit you're in so we can go places in the
afternoons and Saturday. So, c'mon and tell what the problem is."

	What he said made sense. He and his friends, probably including the
two with us who hadn't done anything with me yet, wanted the use of my rear
end. But what if Washburn did too and was using these boys to set me up?

      "I don't know. I really don't wanna talk about it."

      "Malcolm, our fathers could buy this place. Nobody's gonna fuck with
us. We've been coming here since we were like seven and eight. They gotta
listen to us."

      I shook my head. It was just too much of a risk and I didn't really
trust these boys after watching how they mistreated the less popular.

      "All right, you think about it. Right now, Pinky, here needs a
blowjob real bad. Why don't you take him into one of the toilets and do him
there. We'll watch out for you."

      Pinky was the boy with the intense eyes. He pulled two dollars out of
his shirt pocket and held them out to me. I accepted them quickly hoping no
one else had seen me doing it. There were a few others lounging about
including Butch at his desk. He had his back to us.

      I was told to go first and enter the last stall. Pinky would come in
with the others and join me. They would make covering noise if anyone else
came in.

      I sat on the toilet seat and waited. Pinky was there two minutes
later, taking off his tight bathing suit as he closed the door behind
him. His cock was hard and flipped up when released. He pulled my legs
together and stood on the sides of the toilet seat and held on to the top
of the stall, his four plus inch cock in my face. I opened up. He pushed
in. I closed and he immediately began fucking my mouth. I took hold of his
hips to slow him and sucked and moved around his shaft. He stopped
moving. I moved my hands to his ass. His skin had a rough feel to it,
almost like it had hair all over though it didn't. I ran my hands up and
down his legs. There was some fine hair on his calves but none on his
thighs or behind. I moved back and forth on his cock, enjoying the hardness
and perfect length of it. The circumcised head was small and round. He'd
feel nice fucking me.

      I could hear the others talking and occasionally giggling in near
whispers. Were they talking about us? I didn't care as long as the money
kept coming in.

      Pinky dropped one of his hands to the back of my head and prodded me
to go faster. I complied, sucking hard as I went. He started moving his
hips again in short strokes timed with my movements, coordinated with his
hand. His hard dick hardened even more and seemed to thicken underneath. He
took hold of my hair and came. His legs wobbled. His body shuddered. He
held my head tight to his crotch. His young sperm had a nice taste to
it. Rather than swallow, I tried to force it forward in my mouth so I could
savor it afterward. He let go of my head and reached back up to the stall
wall. He swung his body forward and back a few times, milking his orgasm
for all he could. Finally finished, he dropped to the floor, put on his
suit and left without a word or a look. It was as though I was some machine
into which he'd dropped a quarter.

      I heard them all leave. When I left the bathroom and looked, they
were gone. I enjoyed Pinky's cum for a few moments. Butch was at his desk
looking at me sadly. I swallowed and asked, "What´s wrong?"

      "Why do you go with those creeps? All they do is bother people."

      He was right. They weren't nice kids. It was why I couldn't trust
them. "We were just talking."

      "Be careful, you're already in trouble for something and they might
get you mixed up in something else."

      I felt the twenty-one dollars in my pocket knowing he was potentially
right.

      I thought about Bert's group and his offer to get me out of the
cabin. They didn't seem the type to be intimidated or even be interested in
someone like Washburn. They were into being serviced, not allowing
themselves to be used under any condition. They were much too arrogant for
that. Bert's reason for wanting me out was sound. He probably had some safe
places like last year's gang, maybe some of the same. And, there was always
the mountain. Anyway, what I needed most were allies to free me from
Washburn's manipulations.

      After dinner, I pulled Bert aside. "So, how can you get me out of
here during free times?"

      "Ah, coming around. Good. Just leave that to me."

      I used Nichols sleeping habits the next morning to go for a run after
he went into his room. Gorman was off. I hadn't seen him since breakfast. I
went around the entire camp twice. Forest abutted the maintenance area
making for a lot of jumping and dodging. By the small clock on the wall
between the masters' rooms, I'd been out for fifty-five minutes, a good
run. Still sweating, I did my exercise routine.

      To piss off Nichols and point to the absurdity of my restrictions, I
stripped naked and took a cup into the bathroom to bathe at one of the hand
sinks. The cold shower was refreshing but Nichols didn't appear until I'd
been dressed for a while.

      After school, Bert called me to join his little group then told me to
wait while he spoke to Nichols. They had an animated discussion in the hall
outside Nichol's room. Bert came back frustrated.

      "Jesus H. Christ, he is difficult!"

      "He said no?"

      "More or less. He said he'd ask the director. What an asshole. I'm
gonna talk to somebody else. You guys wait here."

      Bert left the cabin. His friends, including a good looking Tommy
Atkins type, were talking about the different kinds of nose snot. I went
back to my bunk to read. Two kids in our group were readers, Butch from
near Martin's house and the third to smallest boy in our group who brought
over thirty books in his trunk. He was obviously used to not being included
in the play and conversations of others. He had a great collection
including Jules Verne's `Mysterious Island', which I had borrowed and was
reading at the time.

      Bert came back with another master. I'd seen him with the smallest
kids, the seven to eight year olds and remembered him from the year
before. He was older than most other masters, at least twenty-five. He left
Bert and went into Master Nichols room. Bert came to my bunk.

      "This guy's the supervisor of the junior side masters. He wouldn't
promise anything but, well, let's just say he owes me."

      "Why?"

      "Just some favors."

      I suspected sex based on how horny this boy seemed. "Like what?"

      "Don't worry about it." He left me for his friends.

      I watched the hallway. Both masters came out a few minutes later. The
supervisor motioned for Bert to come to him. They spoke. Bert stuffed his
hands in his pockets and shook his head. The supervisor said something to
Nichols. Nichols held his hands out as though to say, "What am I supposed
to do?" The supervisor spoke to Bert again and left. Bert came back my way
with frustration on his face.

      "Somebody is very pissed off at you or something. The director says
that you aren't ever to be away from the master in charge of you. What the
fuck did you do?"

      I shook my head in disgust. "If I say, it'll just get worse."

      Bert stared at me for a moment. "You rat on somebody?"

      "No."

      "You know something about somebody?"

      I didn't answer figuring that was answer enough.

      "Then rat on the fuck! Shit, Malcolm. Why let somebody do something
like this to you? If somebody did something to you or you just know
something, fuck `em. What's he gonna do?"

      "It's not that easy. I'm not the only one involved. He could really
hurt us and my father would take his side. He always believes anything
anybody says bad about me. I'd end up in military camp and a boarding
school, probably a military one."

      Bert stared at me again but this time just shook his head and went
back to his group. For a while, he avoided their obvious attempts to get
him to tell them what was going on. Then, without a word, he got up and
went out again. I hoped what he did wouldn't come back on me.

      I noticed Butch watching me and shrugged my shoulders.

      Bert got back as we were leaving for dinner. In the dining hall, I
was directly in front of Master Nichols. As usual, I was required to sit
beside the master. Bert sat tight beside me but must have realized Nichols
would be trying to listen to anything he said. He made a couple of comments
about how stupid it was for me to be so restricted and spent the rest of
the time eating.

      Nichols stayed close to me on the way back. I began to worry Bert was
putting me into a worse situation. As soon as Nichols went into his room,
Bert came to my bunk.

      "You got a problem with Washburn?"

      That made my stomach jump. "Why?"

      "That's what somebody told me. Washburn's a real prick. Likes to fuck
boys like you. He fuck you?"

      "No."

      "Then why's he after you?"

      Answering that would confirm what he thought. Did I dare? It was my
time to stare at him and think. I took a breath and said, "I know something
about him."

      "Then tell!"

      "Who?"

      He looked as frustrated as I. "I suppose you know the director's his
father's cousin."

      "I knew he was related. So who do I tell?"

      "Why won't your father listen to you?"

      "He hates Negroes and my best friend is one."

      "And `cause you're a homo?"

      I nodded.

      "That's probably what he's pissed about. Forget niggers. He's pissed
`cause his kid's a fag."

      "Fine, so who do I tell about Washburn?" Was my father more upset
about me being a homosexual than about Freddy?

      "I don't know. Let me think.' He stood and went to his bunk. I could
tell he was playing with his prick as he lay up there. For some reason, I
felt horny. I wanted it as much as he did. I went in to the bathroom to
jerk off in a toilet stall. Most of the others did the same thing so it
wouldn't be noticed. This group just didn't have anyone quite as open about
it as Beasley from my other group.

      Back on my bunk, I considered the possibility that my homosexuality
was more of a problem to my father than Freddy's race. He had called me a
faggot twice and those sessions with Father Simon were strictly about my
sex interest. Still, most of our battles, no, all of our battles were
linked to my relationship with Freddy and my attempts to be with him. I
wasn't allowed at my grandparents' house any more because Freddy was going
there for help with his studies. But what if Bert was right? If so, there
would never be a solution or any peace between my father and me. I was what
I was, just like Freddy said.

      Sleep came amidst thoughts of getting away from my father for good.

      Steve and John got away from class mid morning and came to my cabin
to access my rear portal. It was six dollars so I opened up and took them
in.

      Steve felt great but I was really beginning to revel in John's large
presence inside me. He liked pumping up into me and didn't request I lie
down. He did get a little rough toward the end and my anus stung a bit when
he expanded to cum but I was able to get off with just three up and down
motions with my hand. His eyes were closed so he didn't see me do it though
he should have felt the constrictions. Steve had pulled up his pants and
was watching from behind.

      Bert came to my bed after lights out and fucked me again on the
bathroom floor. I'd taken a nap in the afternoon so was wide awake to enjoy
it.

      "Tell me just before you cum," I requested.

      "You should be doing this for free. You like it as much as me," he
said with a strained voice. A moment later he said with even more strain,
"Now".

      I lifted up for room to jerk off. He pushed deeper and rocked as he
shot his load inside my plumbing. "Ooooh," he groaned. I came by merely
gripping myself. He went, "mmmmph" when I did and throbbed inside for
nearly half a minute.

      He lay on top of me for so long I was afraid he was going to sleep. I
touched his rear end. He pushed into me but only his cock's head was
inside, held there by my sphincter under the flange. He got up unsteadily,
pulled loose and stumbled back to his bed leaving his pajama bottoms on the
bathroom floor. I picked them up and stuffed them beside him under his
covers. He said, "Thanks."

	Friday afternoon, Bert called me to be with him and his
friends. Jerry, Pinky and the good looker I hadn't had yet.  All wanted
some action. Half the kids in the group were in the dormitory. Blowing all
three in the bathroom would take too long especially since I could sense
Bert was ready for another go too.

	Nichols had the day off. Bert tried to get into his room using a
penknife blade. Failing that, he went outside to try the window. It was
broad daylight. He got the screen out but the window was locked from
inside. Pinky had me feel him up using the others as a shield. His long
cock felt good in my hand. I started jerking him off. That, apparently,
made his horns grow. He pushed two dollars into my hand and demanded a
blowjob in the bathroom. Bert was coming back in after replacing the screen
as we entered the hall. He shook his head and continued toward the others.

	We went into the end stall even though two others were at the
urinal talking as they peed. Pinky took off his shoes and pants. With his
pants over his shoulder and one shoe in each hand, he stood as before with
his feet to each side of me on the toilet seat. I sucked as he swung his
body back and forth. That wasn't working. I grabbed his skinny buns and
held him still as I worked over his cock. That did work, on me too. I was
hard as the urinal's flush handle. As before, he almost lost his footing
when he came. He did drop one shoe as he put one hand to the back of my
head to press me into his crotch. Also as before, when he finally let go
and pulled out, he dressed quickly, slipped on but didn't tie his shoes,
and walked out without a word or a glance. I'd held his cum in my mouth and
went to the cabin entrance to sit on the step and savor it for a while.

	Gorman saw me there and called me back inside.

	I swallowed and said, "I'm just sitting here. I'm not going
anywhere."

	"Don't," he said and went into the dormitory.

	Butch came and sat with me. "What were you doing with Pinky in the
bathroom?"

	I hoped he hadn't followed us. "Just talking."

	"Uh uh. I was watching. I saw him take off his pants and get up on
the seat with you sitting there. You were sucking him, weren't you? Don't
worry. I'm not gonna tell."

	There was no condemnation in his tone. Still words weren't there
for a moment. "Thanks."

	"How come you do it with those guys. They're thugs."

	"They pay me and I need the money."

	"Well, I suppose that's okay. How much?"

	"Two when I suck them." It felt good being able to discuss
it. Butch had me nailed any way.

	"You do other stuff too?"

	"Mmm hmm."

	"Do you let them put it in you?"

	"Mmm hmm."

	"Doesn't that hurt?"

	"Not really."

	"What's it feel like?" Was Butch a homo too?

	"Good. Sometimes I can cum without touching myelf."

	"How much do you get for that?"

	"Three."

	"I've got three dollars. Can I try it once?"

	"When?"

	"I dunno. At night?"

	"You gotta stay awake and get me up."

	"Where can we do it? Your bed?"

	"No, in the bathroom. We take a blanket and close the door."

	"What if somebody wants to use it?"

	"Everybody's asleep then."

	"Sometimes I use it late. Can't we do it in my bed? Mark sleeps
like a log. We'll never wake him up." Mark was the good looking friend of
Bert I hadn't had yet. I hoped he would wake up and want some too.

	Butch was as horny as Bert. He woke me up at eleven on the button
by his alarm pocket watch. He'd kept it under his pillow almost like I had
done with my alarm clock under my covers to go see Freddy late at night.

	Hard, his cock was about the size of Martin's, perhaps a bit
thicker. We got under his covers. I sucked him for a few moments. He
stiffened like I'd terrified him. Even his soft belly felt like there was
steel underneath. His cock got so hard I though he was about to cum. I let
go, leaving him well lubricated, reversed direction and lay beside him. He
rolled on top of me and tried to find my hole. I raised my rear and pulled
his cock to my pucker. He wiggled up on me and trembled as he prepared to
shove his dick inside. I had to nudge his butt downward for him to take the
plunge.

	Again, he stiffened head to toe as he slid inside my hot tunnel. He
held his breath. I patted his rear end to begin fucking. He moved ever so
slightly back and forth. His arms were at my side, hands pressed firmly
against my thighs. He increased his stroke length a little then really got
into it, pumping away like he needed to cum in three seconds. It took him
about a hundred and twenty. He was poking my prostate so I wished he'd go
longer. He whispered, "Oh, my God!" as his first pulse hit then "huuuu,
huuu," as they continued. Gradually, his body relaxed and flowed over
me. He wasn't as fat as Robert but softer, with looser flesh.

	He whispered, "Oh Malcolm, that was really neat. Is it like this in
a girl?"

	"Depends on the girl, I suppose. This was your first time, wasn't
it?"

	"Uh huh. Can we keep doing it?"

	"Now?"

	"Uh huh."

	"Sure, if you can, I can. This time, tell me before you cum so I
can get mine too."

	"Okay."

	He began pumping. His cock didn't feel any smaller. He banged
harder and harder, faster and faster. The bed was bobbing around like
Freddy's uncle's old pickup at a red light. I worried we might awaken Mark,
then hoped we would. After perhaps four or five minutes, he slowed, then
stopped. "I don't think I can do it again."

	"Do it a little more so I can."

	He fucked hard but slow. I masturbated, coming in half a minute.

	"Oh," he said, "I can feel you."

	We went into the bathroom to clean up. He handed me three
dollars. I stuck them back in his pajama shirt pocket. He looked at me for
an explanation. I just put my fingers to my lips. He smiled and patted me
on the side of my shoulder.

	Gorman was in charge Saturday morning and checked occasionally to
see if I was there. I asked to be allowed to do some running outside the
cabin. He refused so I ran inside end to end for well over half an hour. It
was driving him crazy. Then, I did all my floor exercises in front of his
door, counting loudly.

	He came out. "Very funny Lloyd. Move it inside, at the far end."

	I sat and stared at him.

	"You want detention?"

	"What for, sir?"

	"Disobedience."

	"Go ahead." I lay back and started four count leg raises.

	He watched me for a few seconds before breaking into a grin. "All
right, Lloyd. Take your run but stay in this area and go past the door
every five minutes. And be back inside in thirty minutes. And stay away
from the admin building." He looked at his watch and went back into his
room. I trotted out the door.

	Bert and his buddies, including Mark the beautiful untried, had a
plan for Saturday afternoon. They paid the next to smallest boy in the
group, whose hair was roughly the color of mine, to lie under the covers in
my bed like he was sleeping. Gorman was off somewhere. The moment Master
Nichols went into his room, we walked out the door, with me in a baseball
cap

	We went straight to the school, inside and down the hall to the
nurse´s clinic. Bert had keys to both doors. When I asked how he had gotten
them, he answered, "I stole them from the supervisor's office a couple
years ago when I was being punished. The dumb fuck never said anything,
probably though he lost them himself." Four boys debated who would go
first. Bert said, "Let Malcolm decide. It's his ass."

	I said, "I don't care as long as John is last." I really wanted
Mark then decided better to have him second so I could see him up close
naked instead of long distance in the shower. I was already in love with
his hair and face. He was one of those wonderful cases where his hair was
lighter than his skin. He wasn't exactly blonde but close and had dark
brown eyes. The shades of near blonde and brown drove me crazy.

	Jerry, already half naked, said, "First one undressed goes first."

	 I sucked him for a moment then lay on my tummy.

	Mark had been right behind him. I ogled his body as Jerry fucked
me. Wet in the shower, it had appeared he hadn't any pubic hair. He did
have a little but it was brown like his skin. His cock was larger than I
expected it could grow, easily four and a half inches, fat enough to need
oil rather than spit. His balls were big enough to provide a little protein
soup, probably as delicious as what Bobby prepared on his stove. I'd have
liked to suck him this first time to try it out but that wasn't what was on
his pretty mind.

	Mark was up behind me almost as Jerry was sliding off the table. He
was experienced. He used his index finger to find and line his cock up with
my hole, pushing in slowly but deliberately until his wispy pubic hairs
were pressed against my fat buns. His hands slipped under my
shoulders. After getting a good grip, he got right into full length
fucking, pulling out to the very tip then pushing slowly back in past my
sweet spot to the entrance of my colon. I reached back and felt his
muscular buttocks flex as he thrust deep into me time and time again. I'd
have to convince him to do it from the front next time so I could watch his
tummy muscles roll.

	To my delight, he took a while, humping away, only very gradually
increasing his tempo, keeping my anus, rectum and prostate happy to have
him. I had to raise my rear to keep my peter from firing off against the
examination table. I forgot everyone else around me, closing my eyes to
exclusively enjoy the movement inside my backside. When he got close, he
expanded nicely and thrust harder, driving me nearly as close to climax as
he. His orgasm was not as powerful as I'd hoped but I clearly felt the
throbbing even though he continued thrusting.

	Steve did it with me on my hands and knees for a while then
flattened us out to finish.

	John let me know just before he came. I jerked off surreptitiously
then, just as I came, saw that Bert was watching. But John had called it
early. Halfway through my orgasm, with my sphincter squeezing him, John
expanded. I felt like I was being torn apart. I groaned loudly. Everyone
looked up. John pumped sperm.

	There were tears in my eyes when he finished.

	Bert asked, "What happened?"

	I was angry, sure John had done it on purpose. "Nothing!" He was
going back to five bucks or he wasn't going.

	I left with my money and walked briskly ahead of the others back to
the cabin, right past Master Nichols who grabbed me by the shoulder. I
snatched my arm away.

	"Don't touch me.!"

	"Where were you?"

	"Sitting by the door. You blind?"

	Before he could say anything I walked to my bunk where the boy was
still under my covers, asleep. I woke him up. "That's all."

	With thoughts of Freddy coming the next day with my grandfather, I
couldn't stay angry for long. When Bert asked me again what had happened in
the clinic, I was willing to admit John possibly hadn't done it on purpose.

	Sunday morning, with an extended breakfast hour, I slept as long as
I could, tying to kill time before Freddy would be with me. Master Nichols
finally dragged me out of bed. I half expected to be taken to Mass but he
was just hungry and couldn't go eat without me.

	My expectation was that my grandparents and Freddy would arrive
between ten and eleven. Ten came and went, then eleven. I worried,
concerned suddenly the director wouldn't allow me visitors. I insisted I be
allowed to go to the administration building. The master said no. I waited
for him to turn his back and ran out, straight to the huge cabin at the
entrance, past great numbers of parents with their sons and families,
almost tripping over a baby crawling across the walk.

	Master Donnellan was inside the door speaking to a man, probably
someone's father. I walked to the director's office. Donnellan called after
me.

	"Lloyd! What are you doing here?"

	I called back. "I wanna see the director."

	"He's not here. Get back to you cabin right now!"

	"My grandfather's coming."

	"You don't get visitors."

	"Who says?"

	"The director. Now get back to your cabin or I'll just put you in
detention and call your father." He started toward me.

	"He was, is here, isn't he?"

	"You've got no visitors, Lloyd. Last chance, your cabin or
detention."

	I ran around him growling, "You fucking bastard!"

	Back in the cabin, I kicked the bed, then my desk.

	Minutes later, Donnellan and another big master came for me. I
grabbed my chair and threw it at them but they batted it down and grabbed
me. With one on each arm, they dragged me out the door. I cried and
screamed for all I was worth, "Bastards, fucking bastards!" Then I just
cried.

	They apparently didn't call my father or he wasn't home. But they
did leave me without a blanket or food. The director came to see me in the
morning.

	"My grandparents came to see me yesterday and they wouldn't let me
see them," I shouted at him.

	"Don't get angry at us about that. Your father said absolutely no
visitors. We were only following his instructions as we must by law."

	"You son-of-a-bitch!" I screamed.

	"You must like detention, Mister Lloyd," he said as he left.

	Once again, I refused to eat even though I was terrified of being
sent to that military camp. They just couldn't treat me this way. It was
time to fight them, and my father if necessary.

	What I needed was an ally who could help. None of the kids could do
that. But I hadn't yet met a master who was willing to take the risk
involved in even looking into my situation.

	Monday night, lying curled up against the cold, I remembered Butch
Stevenson's comment on the bus about a contact among the older boys, the
son of a friend of his father, the son of a lawyer.

	By Tuesday morning, I was too cold and weak to make much of a
fuss. They escorted me back to my cabin. Bert and his group and Butch, who
had just come back from breakfast, rushed to meet me as I jerked away from
Donnellan inside the dormitory.

	"Jesus, Malcolm, you look terrible," said Bert. "What'd they do to
you?"

	"You got any food?" I asked.

	Butch brought me the rest of the Fig Newtons it turned out he
didn't like. Bert sent Jerry to the store.

	I told them what happened.  Jerry rushed back in with potato chips,
a Hershey Bar and a Coke. They all went off to school and their programs
leaving me alone.

	I ate the Fig Newtons, the candy and drank the coke then knocked on
Nichols door.

	"What?"

	"I need a shower." I wanted the hot water on my still cold body.

	"Too late. We already did that," came from behind the closed door.

	Master Gorman opened his door and waved me into his room. "Shut up
and use mine. You still hungry?" I knew kids weren't allowed in masters'
rooms. Master Gorman was taking a chance.

	"A little."

	"Hurry up and take your shower. I'll see what I can get."

	The hot water felt like salvation, especially with the knowledge
that one of the masters possibly understood the unfairness of my
plight. His shower was much hotter than ours. After I'd been in there for a
while, he pulled back the curtain and said, "Hurry up before someone calls
the gendarmes." He eyed me up and down as he spoke. I didn't realize until
later I didn't know what a gendarme was. Master Gorman handed me a paper
bag and a two small cartons of cold milk.

	There were two egg sandwiches in the bag. I would have to watch
Master Gorman next time he took us to the showers.

	At lunch, Bert pushed me in from the end of the bench away from
Nichols then Jerry pushed him in. Nichols frowned but allowed it to
pass. Gorman smiled from the other end of the table.

	 That afternoon when most of the boys had left, I sat on Butch's
bunk and asked, "Remember that bigger kid who was supposed to show you
around?"

      "You mean Bradford? Yeah, he's a nice guy. He introduced me to a
bunch of the masters and showed me where everything was."

      "You meet one named Washburn?"

      "Washburn, I think that's one of the masters for his cabin. Why?"

      "Your friend like him?"

      "I don't know. He doesn't like any of them very much."

      "Can I tell you something just between us? You can't even tell your
friend unless I say."

      "Sure, but why?"

      "Washburn's the one who has me stuck in here."

      "Why?"

      "I know something about him."

      "What?"

      "I can't say now. Can I talk to your friend?"

      "I suppose so. He's not going to get in trouble too, is he?"

      "No, I just wanna ask him a couple things."

      "You wanna talk to him now?"

      "You know where he is?"

      "I suppose. I can look."

      Butch went off to find Bradford McMillan. I sat at his desk and tried
to read his book on trees while my mind was planning what to say and ask if
Butch found his friend. After a while, anxious to see if Washburn had a
weak spot I could exploit, I went and sat in the doorway.

	Almost as I sat, Butch walked around the corner of the next cabin
beside a tall teen with his hands in his pockets. He was easily sixteen or
seventeen years old.

	He introduced us very formally. "Bradford McMillan, this is Malcolm
Lloyd. Malcolm Lloyd, this is Bradford McMillan."

	I stood and we shook hands. I walked us to the bathroom side of the
cabin. Butch said, "I told him about how you weren't allowed to go
anywhere. I hope that was okay."

	Bradford said, "They can't do that. Why don't you see the
director?"

	"He's the one that makes me stay here but I think someone else told
him to."

	"No one can tell him. He's in charge."

	"What about Master Washburn's father?" I knew I was sticking my
neck out but I liked Bradford's first remark.

	"Washburn? He's a bastard. What's he got to do with you?"

	That put me in a difficult position. To answer that I'd have to
tell things that could put me in great danger if Washburn was as powerful
as Georgie thought. We still didn't know what happened to my three friends
from the previous year. I looked at the teenager, trying to calculate his
trustworthiness.

	"Did he do something to you?" asked Bradford.

	It sounded like he knew something. "Not me, others, friends of
mine."

	"What?"

	"What do you think?" I asked.

	"I think you better say first."

	I took a breath and touched my rear end. Bradford sat down against
the wall. Butch and I sat to either side.

	"Who?"

	"They're not here this year. They used to come every year. Washburn
said he did something to them, like maybe he killed them. We've got
telephone numbers and addresses but can't use them. My grandfather was
supposed to visit me Sunday but they didn't let me see him. I was gonna ask
him to call them and see if they're okay."

	"I don't think he's killed anybody. He's too chicken shit for
that. What happened?"

	I told him everything Washburn had done and what he'd said to
Georgie and me.

	Bradford sat thinking. I waited, hoping he'd have a solution. He
asked, "Let me have those phone numbers and their names. My father's a
lawyer. Let's see what he says. I'll call him right now."

	"You can do that?"

	"Of course. Anybody can make a collect call, didn't you know that?"

	"They won't let me."

	"Don't worry. I'll come back as soon as I know something."

	That boosted my spirits higher than they'd been since before
learning I was definitely going to camp. After Bradford left with a copy of
the cousins' and Barney's information, I asked Butch to tell Georgie what
we'd talked about and give him my note.

	Butch came back glumly a few minutes afterwards. "The master
wouldn't let me talk to him."

	I could only wait until Bradford got back to me. He did that night
just before lights out. Master Nichols didn't want to let him in. He said
something to him angrily and waved for me to come to him outside.

	"My father spoke to the boys and their parents. He told them he'd
represent them for free if there was any problem. They are going to go to
the police tomorrow. Just take it easy and we'll get that bastard and his
fucking father."

	I went to bed both elated and scared to death. This might go very
well or very bad for me, and Georgie. I wished I'd asked Bradford to tell
him too. I slept very little that night and was distracted all morning. I
didn't look at a single cock in the shower.

	Butch was finally able to get to Georgie on the way back from
lunch. Georgie swung his fist in the air and smiled back at me.

	Bert told me another boy from the thirteen year olds' cabin where
Steven and John stayed would be coming to the cabin at about one thirty. I
told him I couldn't that day.

	"It's three dollars, Malcolm."

	"I can't. Somebody might be coming to see me today and I don't know
what time."

	"C'mon, it'll only take ten minutes."

	I refused. He went away with a shrug.

	It wasn't police who came the next afternoon, the day before the
three day July Fourth weekend, but, as with my father, lawyers, three of
them. Georgie and I were called to the director's office shortly before
dinner time. The three middle aged men, dressed nearly the same, had New
York addresses on their business cards.

	Their paper thin smiles didn't give any confidence. I was
terrified. Georgie trembled.

	"Look, boys, we think there has been a terrible misunderstanding
here and we want to straighten it out."

	As they spoke of working things out, my fear evaporated like dew
off a cabin roof. It became apparent they were there to negotiate with
us. I slowly relaxed and patted Georgie's arm to reassure him.

	The director smiled too but looked as nervous as I'd been.

	They offered to get us drinks and something to eat. Feeling my
position stronger each second, I refused. Georgie said nothing. I tried to
figure how far I should push this.

	"What about Barney and Michael?" I asked.

	"We've already spoken to them and their parents. I'm sure something
will be worked out."

	That didn't sound like Washburn going to jail.

	The director spoke, "We're moving your things back to Squirrel
cabin right now so you two can be together as much as you want."

	That was an admission that we had deliberately been kept apart. Two
of the lawyers gave the director exasperated looks.

	"We'd like to know what we can do for you to make up for this
misunderstanding?" asked another of the lawyers. "Perhaps a trip somewhere
or something you really want?"

	This was all too fast. I needed time to think. What I really wanted
to do was speak with my grandfather.

	"I need to make a telephone call."

	The first lawyer grimaced and said, "Malcolm, we'd like to keep
others out of this. We want to work it out with you two boys. Whatta you
say? You tell us what you want."

	"I want to talk to my grandfather."

	The lawyers whispered to each other. "Do you mind if we talk to him
too?"

	"After me. And I talk to him alone with just me and Georgie in
here."

	"And you'll call us before you hang up."

	"If he wants to talk to you."

	I gave the number and the director called the long distance
operator. I hoped my grandfather was home. They handed me the phone when it
rang and left the room. My grandmother answered. Granpa was out but would
be home in an hour. I told her the basics of what was going on.

	She took the camp phone number I got off the dial. "Don't do or say
anything until your grandfather calls back. I'll try to find him."

	I told the lawyers. They asked me to go back to my cabin and
discuss what we'd like them to do for us.

	"I'm gonna wait here for my grandfather to call."

	They agreed and were leaving. I told Georgie, "You better call your
father too."

	They reluctantly agreed again. A woman answered and said his father
was out but would call the minute he got home. Georgie asked for his office
telephone number. He got it and called. We sent the lawyers out when his
secretary put Georgie's father on the line. Georgie told him more than I
had my grandmother. He wanted to speak to the lawyers. They said, "Yes",
"yes", and "yes" and hung up.

	"Your father will be here by lunch tomorrow." The lawyers were
obviously not happy, probably because "tomorrow" was July Fourth, a legal
holiday.

	My grandfather called minutes later. After listening to me tell him
everything, he said, "Don't say another word to them. I'll be there in the
morning."

	"They want to talk to you."

	"I don't want to talk to them until tomorrow. Remember what I
said. Don't say a word to them or anyone else about this."

	I went with Georgie. My trunk was beside Georgie's bunk. Georgie
was still nervous.

	"Don't worry, Georgie, we've got `em. Our families know. They can't
do anything to us."

	Dinner was over but we were taken into the empty dining hall where
the entire staff was there to serve us whatever we wanted.

	"What'd I tell you, Georgie," I said to my good friend, "we've got
`em!"

	Several of the kids from the group wanted to know what happened,
why I was moved and now was back, why we hadn't been allowed to leave
during free time.

	We told them, "We can't talk about it now, maybe later."

	Georgie and I fell asleep beside each other on the bottom bunk but
were not disturbed until the bugle was sounded in the morning.

	Master Nichols found me in the showers. "Look, I was just doing
what the director told me. Please don't drag me into this."

	I stared at him with disdain and said nothing. He went away with a
very worried expression. I looked over my cabin mates bodies.

	The place was filling up with visiting families when my grandfather
and another older man arrived minutes before Georgie's father and his
lawyer. My grandfather's friend was a retired FBI lawyer. They listened to
our stories then asked questions. Some had to be answered evasively or with
out and out lies to avoid admitting the sex we'd all been having. That
done, they went into the director's office with the three lawyers and the
director.

	Georgie asked, "Do you think they know what you were doing with the
others last year?"

	"I don't know. I'd sure like to know what the others said."

	The talking seemed to go on for hours. They were still at it when
we got back from lunch. Two masters, including Master Donnellan who avoided
looking at us, took trays of food into the office. Georgie and I went for a
walk down by the church.

	Georgie asked, "You think we have time?"

	I smiled and, after making sure no one was watching us, we went
into the bushes behind the church grounds grotto. Once inside, we both had
second thoughts and decided to put off our physical reunion until
later. There were hundreds of people walking all over the place. So,
instead of pulling down our pants, we leaned against the grotto and talked
about what might happen to Washburn and all the things we could now do
together.

	I heard my grandfather calling me. We rushed out and to the road
where he was looking for us among departing visitors and their
sons. Georgie's father joined us on a park bench.

	My grandfather said, "I think what they want to do is wrong but
Georgie's father and I agree that we can't agree to do anything without
consulting with the families of the other boys. And, Malcolm, I can't make
any final decisions regarding you. Only your mother and father can do
that. They won't be back until Labor Day Weekend."

	So he was going to be involved after all. I was sure he'd go
against me if it was possible.

      My grandfather continued, "We are meeting with everybody tomorrow at
one of the boys' homes. After that, we'll see what is decided but we want
both of you to know that you will be involved in any decision. Is that okay
with you two?"

	Georgie looked at his father who shrugged his shoulders. We
agreed. Georgie's father asked his son if he wanted to go home.

	Georgie grabbed my arm and said, "Uh uh. I wanna stay here with
Malcolm." I felt warm all over.

	My grandfather walked me out the road leaving Georgie and his
father alone. "I know you'd like to come home but it might not be a good
idea. Your father has prohibited us from visiting you here so taking you
home with us will probably be a big mistake. You do know that we were here
with Freddy last Sunday?"

      I nodded rather than tell him what happened.

      "Your father might decide this was your fault and, well, you
know. Let's do things in a way to avoid any problems.

	"I'm also trying to avoid these vultures realizing we have a
problem with your father. I want to see this Washburn character in jail
where he belongs and his father out of the Congress. The ones who were hurt
the most by this were the two boys he assaulted. They need to determine
more than us what we'll do. I know you've had a hard time but you'll be
fine now."

	We walked and talked until dinner time. The six of us including our
two lawyers were served dinner in a small dining room in the main building
after which they drove off. We were to be called sometime the next
afternoon or evening.

	Georgie and I went cautiously back to the grotto and did what we
hadn't done since the previous fall. It was getting dark so I wouldn't be
able to watch but, then, no one else could either. I lay on our pants after
sucking his penis for a few minutes and he slipped inside me. After John's
great cock a few days before, he felt quite small. But I enjoyed it more
because of who it was and how we felt about each other. I hugged his head
to mine as he pumped away. I worried that I was too loose for him and
squeezed my sphincter. He pushed his arms under my chest and held on tight
as he thrust almost violently. When he got close, he rolled us into the
leaves on our side and masturbated me. I closed my eyes and held his head
even tighter. I came ahead of him. The feeling went smoothly through my
entire body. When he came a minute later, I felt like I was doing it again
too.

	"I really missed you, Georgie."

	"Me too."

	He had taken the top bunk after I was moved so I took the
bottom. Nevertheless, we fell asleep reading and talking on the top bunk
and again went undisturbed until morning.

	Bert caught up with me as we went to breakfast. "You still gonna be
able to take care of us?"

	I certainly didn't need the money any more. Forty-one dollars
bought a lot of chips, sodas and candy. However, I had enjoyed what we'd
done and wasn't one to turn down cash earned so easily. I had a better
understanding of Bobby's attitude.

	"I'll let you know Sunday or Monday."

	Saturday morning, I finally got the chance to show off my physical
abilities and did so with my T shirt off to make the point more
clearly. The trainer cut off my pushups at one hundred.

	"We get your point, Lloyd. You've been working out. We've got a lot
more to do."

	I smiled at him and flexed my biceps knowing he couldn't do nearly
as many as me. As at school, my skills actually playing baseball fell far
below my ability to do push ups. The trainer smiled back at me when I
dropped a fly ball hit my way. My batting was worse though I did get a
solid hit that scored two runs. I tried to steal second but was way too
slow and was chased down for an out. I recognized my overconfidence and
apologized to Georgie but not the others. I had way too much pride for
that.

	On the obstacle course, I was better climbing but a disaster when
agility was required, falling repeatedly in the tires and rope web and
taking longer than many others crawling through the concrete pipe and
dodging obstacles.

	All Saturday afternoon was free time. I bought a bottle of Sea and
Ski and, with Georgie's help, covered myself with the suntan lotion. My arm
strength did help me in the pool though the better athletes had a smoother
stroke and were faster. I sat on the side under the lifeguard stand and
flexed my pecs. Georgie was embarrassed and told me to "Cut it out!"

	Georgie did my exercises, or some of them, and showered with me. I
was feeling pretty good.

	Bradford McMillan came to us as we left the dining hall after
dinner. He'd looked for me the night before but I was nowhere to be
found. He thought perhaps we'd gone home.

	"Washburn left Wednesday afternoon with all his stuff. I asked the
bastard where he was going but he wouldn't answer. They gonna put him in
jail?"

	"I dunno. My grandfather's supposed to call us today but he hasn't
yet."

	He did at close to eight o'clock. Georgie and I were called to the
director's office. I was handed the telephone.

	"Nothing's been decided yet. We're meeting with Washburn's
attorneys Monday afternoon. I'll call you."

	"Is anything wrong?"

	"Nothing that will affect you."

	"What about Freddy. Does this mean he can't come tomorrow?"

	"I'm sorry, Malcolm, but I promise he'll be there next Sunday."

	Sunday, Georgie and I with a knapsack full of sandwiches, candy and
sodas, returned to the rocks on the side of the mountain. There was a new
duffle bag but with the same items all of which we took as ours. The
blanket was one of the good ones from the cabins. There were two rolls of
toilet paper and a larger jar of Vaseline. Inside was the image of the head
of a man's cock. Washburn had almost certainly been up there again. We
wondered with whom and if they'd come up without him.

	I was naked first and twirled around with my arms out, luxuriating
in the refreshing feeling of the mountain air against my bare skin and the
sense of complete freedom it gave me. Georgie said from on top of the
blanket, "Come on, Malcolm, blow me."

	I fell on top of him and kissed his cheek, forehead, shoulder and
nipple. He giggled, "You're crazy."

	I was exhilarated by our nudity, the fresh air, the peaceful and
beautiful surroundings and memories of the great sex the two of us had had
in that same place the year before.

	I licked my way down to his tight little tummy and its belly
button, down his wonderful pelvic groove to the top of his crotch and back
up the other. After wetting his middle well, I spread his legs and washed
the insides of his thighs with my tongue before moving to his perineum,
still tiny balls and up his shaft to the helmet head of his three inch
peter.

      When I took him completely in, he held my head down. "Wait a
minute. Just a minute." He was ready to pop.

      I waited but sucked gently to keep him on edge. I slid my crotch over
his leg and humped it gently. He came with those same hard throbs, popping
up his shaft like he was firing off little jelly beans.

      I sucked in his balls and lay there. He loosened his grip on my head
and caressed my hair.

      "Are you better at this or am I just horny?" he asked.

      Unwilling to let go of the wonderful morsels in my mouth, I held up
two fingers.

	He batted me softly on the head. I turned around, keeping him in my
mouth, so he could jerk me off. He reached across himself and massaged my
penis.

	His cock never softened but stayed sensitive at the tip for a
while. I fondled his balls with my upper lip and wrapped my tongue around
the base of his shaft. He pumped into my mouth. I rolled us on our sides so
he could do more of that. I kept his peter under my tongue so he never came
out as he fucked my mouth. He fit in there perfectly, sliding back and
forth in the soft mushy tissue. After a while, he began working my cock
with his fingers. He was getting close. I moved my mouth forward so more of
his perineum went inside with each thrust. I could smell his pucker less
than an inch away each time he went full in. His face was so close to me I
could feel his breath on my balls.

	Orgasm grew just inside, above my perineum then roared out it and
into my dick. Georgie felt the throbbing and stopped his hand. He thrust
harder into my mouth, following me into orgiastic heaven seconds
later. Hard as his cock pumped, he'd be able to fire sperm across a room
once he had some to shoot.

	We swam after lunch again covered with massive amounts of Sea and
Ski then went back to the cabin to grab a couple of books to read back to
back on a park bench near the maintenance shed.

	My grandfather's call came Monday evening. A deal had been made. It
did not include any charges against Washburn. My grandfather said he was
not happy about it but the boys' parents didn't want them having to testify
in court, something Washburn's lawyers promised would happen if their
client was charged. Basically, it was a huge payoff. He wouldn't say how
much money was involved but indicated it was substantial. He couldn't
refuse or accept cash. It was a decision only my father could make.

	"We don't need the money and I think it would be wrong to accept
it. All I was able to get was a guarantee that Washburn would not be around
any boys, certainly never again anywhere near McFarlane and that you will
be given anything you want while you're there at camp and can, if you want,
go back every year for free until you're eighteen. There will be a new
director appointed this week. Mister Walpole resigned as we asked him to
do.'

	"What did Georgie's father get?"

	"Money."

	"A lot?"

	"A lot."

	"And you're coming Sunday?"

	"Yes, with Freddy. Oh, you and Georgie have unlimited credit in the
camp store."

	"What's that mean?"

	"You can buy anything you want without paying for it. But, Malcolm,
take it easy. We shouldn't be looking for material gain from this. Two boys
were badly hurt and may never get over it."

	"Can I talk to them?"

	"Sure. Just go the office and ask to use the phone. I don't think
they'll object."

	Georgie's father told him he had his education paid for through
graduate school if he wanted along with a trust fund that would be his when
he turned twenty-one. He wouldn't tell him how much.

	I rushed back to the cabin for the boys' telephone numbers. Master
Donnellan, begrudgingly, called them one at a time.

	Michael said, after happy greetings and asking how I was, "I didn't
want the damn money either. That bastard's just gonna hurt some other kid,
maybe one who can't handle it like us." His voice had changed since we last
spoke. I wondered how big his cock had grown, if I could still take it
where it counted.

      I asked the other question burning a hole in my brain, "You two
still, you know?"

	"Of course but you couldn't handle it now, or maybe you could if
you're still doing it." That answered my other question.

	"Are you alone?"

	"I couldn't talk like this if I wasn't, except Harry. Wanna talk to
him?"

	We went back and forth for an hour, costing the camp a fortune on
their telephone bill. Then I called Barney and spent nearly half an hour
with him. His voice was almost a man's. I didn't bother to speculate on
whether he'd fit inside me. He asked about Larry.

	"Larry's fine. He wants to see you."

	The line was silent for a moment. "Get his address. I lost it. I'll
find a way."

	I could hear the emotion in his voice; imagine the tears falling on
the telephone.

	I sought out Bradford McMillan and told him the news. He was as
unhappy as my grandfather about Washburn walking away with no
punishment. "They should've locked the bastard up for a few years to think
about what he's done."

	He turned down my invitation to use my store credit.

	Butch Stevenson was more pragmatic. "They might even have lost in
court. Remember, my father's a lawyer. I've watched him in a divorce
case. He made the poor guy look like a rapist and child beater even though
all he was horny and once told his daughter to leave him alone when he was
doing taxes. I hated my father for a long time after that. But it was his
job. That's what lawyers do, make the people against their clients look
worse than their client no matter how much of a bastard their client is, if
you understand what I'm saying."

	"So you'd take the money."

	"Of course. It's a win instead of a loss."

	"I wanna hurt the son-of-a-bitch."

	"But if you can't?"

	"My father'll probly take the money then he'll say it was all my
fault and I did something bad that caused it all even though he'll get rich
from it. He is a real prick."

	"You're lucky he isn't a lawyer."

	Before leaving, I promised Butch the greatest fuck of his life,
which didn't mean much as it just needed to be better than the first one.

	In bed alone for a change because Georgie fell asleep before I got
back, I thought about my grandfather's attitude toward the money and his
concern that Barney and Michael would never get over what happened.

	I agreed about the money. The idea of Washburn being able to buy
his way out of trouble really pissed me off. It was wrong. He raped both
Barney and Michael. Washburn needed to go to jail for that.

      However, I got the definite impression both boys were over it before
the end of camp. If there was any residual anguish, it was Barney's concern
that he had been hurting Larry even though the then eight year old insisted
he wasn't. Actually, Larry effectively admitted it hurt some when he told
me he did it for the money and to please Barney. But pain had been an
occasional part of sex for me too. I wasn't worried about it. I doubted
Larry was either.

      Sex for me was something to be enjoyed. Overall, it felt good. Even
John's monster pole the previous week had, in the end, been quite pleasant.
I looked forward to sitting on it again, and again and again.  During the
morning shower, I looked around to see if any of my new cabin mates were
interesting. There were two but none so nice as Bert's bunch. And another
one wanted me, well, wanted my hole. To them, that's all I was, a fun
orifice. But, to me, they were eye candy and sex pie.