Oliver of the Adirondacks

by Dashiell Walranven

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As part of the adventure that was Christmas in the Pines, most of the kids that attended with their families, chose to sleep one of the bunk rooms designated for boys or girls. The boy's bunkroom was located on the second tier of the lodge, to the left of the chimney and fireplace that dominated the great room. The room accommodated about 40 or so boys at full capacity, but that year we had probably about 25 or so, leaving most of the upper bunks unoccupied. Even though I preferred my bed to a bunk, it has always been my tradition to sleep in the bunk room with the other boys.

Neal's family had one of those rooms that was large enough for all of them, but he chose a bunk near mine. Some of the younger boys were already asleep, having retired earlier. I pulled out a foot-locker I'd stashed beneath my bed earlier in the week, and tossed my flannel pajamas onto the bed before stowing it back underneath. I pulled my shirt off and felt my skin tighten in the cooler air. I glanced over to see that Neal, in the darkness of the room, was already down to his briefs. He flashed me a 100 watt smile as he dropped them to the floor, and gave his pearly white butt a shake before stepping into his pajama bottoms and hiking them up around his swimmer's waist. I followed suit and quickly shucked my boxers. Before pulling up my flannels, I gave my dick a quick swing, flopping it left and right a couple of times, so Neal could see. He snorted quietly as he fished a toothbrush and toothpaste from his kit bag.

I tossed a towel over my shoulder and we both struck out for the bathroom. Even though tired from the day's events, I enjoyed Neal's company too much to be truly ready for bed. Since everybody was turning in, it seemed like the logical thing to do, and I felt confident the next few days would be just as much fun. We stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the mirror, washing our faces and brushing our teeth. Neal worked up a prodigious amount of foam in his mouth and made like a mad dog.

"Rawrf!" he foamed at me, snapping and snarling, "I'm Old Yeller!"

"Don't say that!" I gasped in protest, "that movie totally made me bawl like a baby."

"Wuss," Neal declared, "first time that dog growled at me, I'd have plugged him then and there." Not a great fan of dogs, Neal affirmed his allegiance to cats early in our relationship; although he did allow that my dog was pretty cool.

"I'll show you `wuss', you big dummy," I said, flicking a dot of toothpaste into his black hair.

"Ha!" he laughed, dropping his stuff in the sink and tackling me at the waist "now you pay!" I howled with mock pain but there was too much laughter involved to be realistic. We fell to the floor and wrestled around some. His lithe, compact body made it difficult for me to get a real handhold on him, whereas my spindly limbs made it easy for him to grab onto me and flip me over onto my back. He sat astride my pelvis and pinned my arms by my wrists to the floor. "Uncle?" he asked, panting from the exertion. I struggled with him briefly, but he had me completely disadvantaged with no choice but to capitulate.

"Uncle," I shrugged, "for now."

"Yeah," he breathed hard, "anytime, pussy boy."

It wasn't the first time I heard him breathe like that. Even though he had gotten the drop on me and pinned me down, I was barely winded by the effort. Neal however, had a definite wheeze going on.

"You alright?" I asked, as he let me up.

"Yeah yeah," he said impatiently, "just my asthma acting up, no big deal." He went back over to the sink, leaned on it and seemed to catch his breath in pretty quick order. "Oh man," he said, inspecting the smear of toothpaste in his hair, "I can't go to bed like this, now I gotta wash my hair."

"Why not take a shower?" I asked, pointing to the shower bay.

"Naw," he shrugged, "I'll just dunk my head in the sink."

"Dunk your head in the toilet and I'll flush it for ya," I said, laughing, "that oughta do the trick."

"Heh, no swirlies for me," said Neal, lowering his head under the flow of water from the faucet and scrubbing with a bar of soap.

When he finished, he toweled his short hair dry in a matter of moments; a few quick swipes from his brush and it all fell back into place immediately. I resolved to get my hair cut like his; it seemed so much easier to manage. We quietly padded back to the bunk room, where all the other boys were now safely tucked in. We whispered goodnight to one another and I climbed into my bunk, pulling my thick comforter up to my neck.

Little boys have a keen sense of timing I think. It seemed like the very moment my covers had warmed up to a comfortable temperature and I was nearly drifting off to sleep, was when I heard him. It came as a weak little cough first, followed by a whimper, but I recognized the sound immediately. Sitting bolt upright, nearly banging my head on the slats of the bunk above me. I pricked up my ears, locating the sounds. From the far side of the room, near the window, I heard it again, a hiccupped cough and a swallow, followed by a plaintive little cry.

Leaping from the bed, I swooped down on the hapless lad. Little Brian Coopersmith lay there with his covers thrown off him, a cold sweat glistening on his body in the moonlight.

"You gonna be sick, Brian?" I whispered to him.

"Noooo," he shook his head back and forth. He said no, but I knew better; he was saying no because he desperately didn't want it to be so. There was no denying that he looked ready to barf. "C'mon Brian, let's go to the bathroom, maybe you just have to poop and you'll feel better." Brian reluctantly swung his feet over and tried to stand on wobbly legs. His legs nearly buckled under him so I scooped him up in my arms and made quickly for the bathroom, wile he clapped his hands over his bulging mouth. We made it to one of the stalls just in time for Brian to bend over the toilet and toss his cookies.

The sour smell, along with the sound of vomiting and splashing water, made my stomach churn. I swallowed my rising gorge and diverted my attention by rubbing little Brian's lower back as he threw up breakfast, lunch, dinner, and probably some baby formula left over from infancy. Brian sobbed in between retching, his back arched and rippled with each salvo as his little tummy rebelled against the rich food and egg nog consumed earlier. I felt badly for him, I knew his misery; nobody likes to barf, and there is just no comfort to be found until it is all over.

Brian spit the last, thick gobs of sputum into the toilet and stood up. He was pale and shaky, but a little color was starting to return to his cheeks.

"Think you're done, kiddo?" I asked him quietly, brushing his bangs from his red-rimmed eyes; he gave a weak nod of his head. I lifted the hem of his barf soaked shirt over his head, balled it up and tossed it to the corner. The front of his pants looked wet too, and I figured he must have pissed himself while he was whistling up dinner, so I peeled those from him as well. He stood before me, naked and shivering with chunks of half digested vegetables tangled in his brown hair. He stank of stale sweat, vomit and pee; this boy was in serious need of cleaning up and a quick rinse in the sink just wasn't going to cut it.

I knew he needed a bath, but all we had at the lodge were showers, and I wasn't about to dunk him into the slop sink, so there was only one thing to do. I pulled my shirt and pants off, rolled them into a ball, and lead the sniffling Brian to the shower bay, turned on two of the opposing shower heads, and pointed them to the center of the bay. I took Brian by the hand and directed him under the warm spray. I grabbed a bar of ivory soap from the dish on the wall, and started to lather him up. He stood there, dumbly blinking as I scrubbed his front, back, arms and legs, then wet down his hair and shampooed the gunk from it.

When I finished with him, I took a moment to lather up and rinse the both of us down. Turning off the showers, I grabbed the fluffiest towels I could find, and dried him off, head to toe. Brian looked better as his hair shone clean in the bright light of the bathroom.  I quickly jumped back into my PJ's, wrapped him in one of the towels, and picked him up. Brian quickly threw his arms around my neck and rested his weary head on my shoulder. He wasn't a big kid, but like this, he was dead weight.

By the time I set him down onto his bed, he was already asleep. I looked into the small chest of drawers next to the bunk, where I knew his mother had neatly placed his clothes. There were no other pajamas, so I grabbed a pair of tighty-whities, threaded his little legs through them, and tugged them up over his small waist. I pulled a t-shirt over his head, and tucked the covers up under his chin; he was making a cute little snoring sound as I returned to my bunk.

As I made my way back to bed, the day's fatique made it's presence known. My dry eyelids felt like sandpaper, and my limbs moved as if underwater. I silently prayed for no further nocturnal interruptions. I managed to glance over to Neal, who was on his back, mouth agape, also making a snoring sound. His blanket appeared to be thrown back, and as my eyes became more adjusted to the darkness, I was pretty sure I saw his dick protruding through the open fly of his flannels. Since I wasn't wearing my glasses, I approached slowly, trying to make out if was seeing a trick of shadows, or if he actually was sticking out of his pants. As I grew closer, the fuzzy, tubular shape came into focus and I felt my heart in my throat for a second.

I realized I'd stopped breathing, and I gave a quiet little snort of self-derision. I'd seen Neal's penis many times before, nothing new there. Still, the way he lay there, exposed to the world, it thrilled and excited me all the same. Casting a stealthy look around the room, and seeing only sleeping boys, I reached down and gently grasped his dick in my fist, where it throbbed in my hand. I looked up to Neal's face; while his eyes were still closed, he could not contain the wide grin on his face.

"Faker!" I whispered, giving his pecker a quick tug, "I know your awake." His eyes opened and he smiled widely.

"What happened?" he asked, "that kid get sick or something."

"Yeah," I nodded, "barfed all over himself, I had to clean him up in the shower."

"Gross," Neal grimaced, "better you than me." I released his dick and turned toward my bunk. "Where you going?" he asked.

"I'm beat," I said, "was almost asleep when Brian decided to gargle up his groceries." I flopped down on the mattress, pulled my covers over me and shut my eyes. I breathed out a few sighing breathes. I found myself opening my eyes when I felt a gentle hand slide beneath the blankets, to grasp my flaccid dork. It didn't stay that way for long. "Neal, I..." I started to protest, I was very tired.

"Shhhh," Neal hushed me. I felt his strong fingers take a tight hold of me. Despite my sheer exhaustion, my penis stiffened. The tips of his fingers played lightly over the wrinkled skin of my scrotum, which tightened beneath his touch. Neal pressed a finger into the folds under my balls and brushed his finger across my puckered hole, it clenched involuntarily and a shiver ran down both legs. My penis became hard as tempered steel. I turned my head and saw him kneeling next to my bunk, hand beneath the covers, looking straight into my eyes.

"Wow," I mouthed the words. more than whispered them.

"I'm not hurting you right?" he asked quietly. I shook my head slowly and closed my eyes again, allowing myself to get lost in the sensations he gave me. I felt him move his other hand under, rubbing his palm in lazy circles on my abdomen, just below my belly button. My hips bucked a little, driving my dick into his tightened fist, causing the head to pop free from the foreskin. Neal moved his hand slowly up and down my shaft, making the feelings grow intensely, but slowly. Heat flushed my face and my ear tips felt all hot and burning. A breathy, low moan growled in my chest and I felt that strange, delicious sensation start in my pelvis and legs; I knew I was close. I felt the cool air of the night as Neal lifted the covers and ducked his head under. My hands moved naturally to his soft hair as he positioned himself over me, and then silently slurped my penis into the steamy depths of his mouth.

A deep grunt escaped my throat as his tongue slid along the length of me. I screwed my eyes shut, trying to suppress any noises I might make. I knew if we awakened any of the boys near us, there'd be questions I wasn't prepared to answer just yet. I bit my lower lip as Neal slowly bobbed his head over me. With one hand, he grabbed my dick around the base, stabilizing and directing it toward the back of his throat. He applied light suction, his tongue dancing from bottom to top.

Neal sensed my impending climax and pulled off for a moment. He tugged on my balls a little, and then took them into his mouth, rolling them around. They fell from his mouth with a wet slurp; it made a funny sound and we both snickered a little before managing to quiet up once more. After the tongue play on my balls, Neal returned to my penis with renewed vigor. While not picking up the pace, he increased his suction, which drove me wild. I ran my hands through his silky hair as he started to bring me closer and closer. Patiently, he slid his mouth up and down as my breathing became deeper and more urgent. The need to keep quiet in the stillness of the bunkroom, surrounded by other boys, only added to the excitement, and drove me faster toward the end.

Finally, I couldn't contain the quiet, desperate huffing sounds I made as the breath left me, my legs and stomach grew rigid and my tender penis started pulsing. Gritting my teeth, I felt myself pump several jets into Neal's hot mouth. I felt the veins in my neck and temples stand out as Neal rode my bucking hips, holding fast onto me. Gradually, the muscles in my body unlocked and I relaxed. Neal left my dick to rest in his mouth as my breathing slowly returned to normal, he rubbed my belly again, which felt so nice. In that dreamy, after-feeling I get, must have drifted off because I never felt Neal return to his own bed.

I woke up the following morning to the smell of bacon and pancakes drifting up from the kitchen. Neal's bunk was already empty. Several other boys were sitting up, rubbing their eyes and putting on slippers to bound down to join the others for breakfast. As I stood up, I found to my embarrassment that I needed to tuck my dick back into my fly and button up. One of the boys saw me as I did so, and gave a sly grin as he passed me. Almost as if he had... No. I shook my head, banishing the thought as I roused the other boys for breakfast.