Shower Shenanigans at Bible Camp

I learned to masturbate at Bible camp. It was the summer I was nine years old.

It was generic summer camp with an overlay of religion. There were rustic cabins out in the middle of godforsaken nowhere, a little lake, a swimming pool, an archery range, some trails through the woods, all the usual things. The things that made it Bible camp were that we went to chapel every morning, prayed before meals, and our counselor would say a prayer for us right after lights out. Other than that, it was just summer camp -- seven days and six nights of barely controlled mayhem.

I was assigned to a cabin with two dozen other boys who had completed 4th grade. There was one exception, an older boy, Butch, who had his twelfth birthday the last day of camp. He was assigned to our cabin because his dad, Mr. Davis, was our counselor. Apparently, Butch had a fearsome reputation with the other counselors, enough so that the counselor for the cabin he should have been assigned to insisted he stay with his dad at night.

So Butch split from us younger boys after breakfast every day. He joined his grade/age mates and did the day's activities with them, then came back to his dad's cabin after dinner. Butch's dad would be reading the several notes that had been slipped under his door, detailing Butch's hell-raising through the day.

Butch got a spanking every night. His dad would call him into the counselor's office/bedroom that every cabin had and close the door behind them. Half a minute later we would hear the thwacks of Mr. Davis's hand on Butch's butt. A minute later, Butch would come boiling out the door of his dad's room doing the spanky dance, pulling his camp shorts up and exaggeratedly wincing. But there were never any tears. And as soon as Mr. Davis looked the other way, Butch would drop the act and grin like it was no big deal. It must not have been a big deal, because the nightly spankings did not change his behavior, not at all.

The shower was also a rustic affair, a big gang shower with half a dozen shower heads on each of two long walls and a drain grate that ran full length in the center. At some point, a spoilsport decided that even boys deserved a little privacy and the big room had been retrofitted with stalls separating each shower head. Those stalls were never meant to provide full privacy. On a grown man they would have covered from about shoulder to knee. What they did do was make it a lot harder for a grownup to supervise the shower shenanigans.

When us younger boys went into stalls, we disappeared, because the dividers were over our heads. The only way to confirm a stall was occupied was to bend down and look the length of the row from a vantage point lower than the bottom of the stall dividers. If you could see a pair of bare boy feet and legs, that stall was occupied.

Of course, the dividers had been installed over a decade before, so the doors were not in perfect operating order. Some of them were missing entirely. It worked out all right anyway; the shy boys could wait until one of the stalls with a working door came open; the rest of us could just barge in bare-assed and grab the first open stall we found.

Sunday Night

I got lucky on the first night. I was right behind Butch in line. He found an empty stall on the left and I entered the empty stall on the right. Neither of them had doors.

At first, it was just a normal shower. I stuck my head under the water and got my hair soaked and my body wet, then found the communal bar of soap and turned around. Butch was facing me across the open aisle. He was all drenched like me, but taking a shower did not seem to be a priority for him. Standing there facing me, he let loose a stream of piss. He must have been holding it for that very purpose. The shower was running behind him, so his yellow river got diluted on the way to the drain grate in the center. The shower monitor (his dad) would have needed to be watching like a hawk to notice that.

I have no idea what reaction Butch was expecting, except that my response appeared to surprise and delight him. I hadn't been holding it, but I felt like I could squeeze out a bit. I wanted to give him a show too, so I pinched my foreskin at the tip and squeezed out my little golden measure so it ballooned out my skin, then I let go and it all splattered out at once.

Butch laughed. "You're cool!" he said. "What's your name?"

"Tommy," I said.

"I'm Butch," he replied.

"I know," I said. "Your dad called your name when you got yourspanking a while ago."

"Oh, that?" Butch laughed. "Spankin's ain't nothin'. What bunk are you in?"

"Bottom bunk, second from last on the left," I said.

"Cool," he said, "I'mma come say hi before lights out."

Monday night

Monday night, me and Butch jockeyed to be next in line with each other, him in front, me right behind. He scooted naked down the aisle in front of me. He clearly skipped a row because the opposite stall was already occupied. I zipped into the stall opposite him. Like before I took the time to soak myself down. Also like before, when I turned around, Butch had an agenda.

He was elaborately soaping and washing his boy parts. He had changed from hanging down to pointing straight out. He didn't get much bigger, being a shower.

I soaped and massaged my young boy bits, and soon grew to my full erect dimensions, quite a bit bigger than when I was soft, because I was a grower.

Across the aisle, Butch showed me how to masturbate. He gripped himself in his fist and started stroking his length.

"You do it too," he said. Nothing under a full shout would be heard by the shower monitor.

I followed his example and gripped my eager erection in my fist.

Butch stroked himself to orgasm right there. I had no clue what the objective was, so I missed the point. I happily rubbed myself, enjoying the sensations, but did not arrive at the destination. When Butch stopped, so did I. The scent is forever in my memory; it was a mixture of that deodorant soap that is supposed to smell like Ireland in the springtime, mixed with wet sweaty boys.

That was the night I earned my camp nickname of Towel Hook Tommy, or just Hook for short. I was not the only boy to sport a boner during or after showers, but I was the only boy who did it every night

The next morning, sitting beside me at breakfast, Butch asked "Did you have a good cum?"

"What's a cum?" I said.

"Dang, if you gotta ask, it means you don't know," he said. "I'll square you away tonight."

Tuesday night

It was so easy, really. Butch's dad seemed only concerned to keep twelve boys in the showers at all times. He didn't much care which twelve boys it was, so Butch and me could bolt down the aisle, one right behind the other, until we found a pair of vacant stalls opposite each other. We tried to leave the stalls that had intact doors for the shy boys, but ultimately, it didn't matter. If we landed in a stall with a working door, we could always leave it wide open.

Tuesday night, Butch got himself all drenched and I followed suit. I already had a boner in anticipation of what I didn't even know. But I was curious and excited, understanding we were doing something naughty and daring. Butch cautiously leaned out his stall and looked in Mr. Davis's direction. Then he quickly stepped back and beckoned me to cross the aisle and join him. Without a second thought, I streaked across, a flash of bare boy.

He stood under the water flow, not bothering with soap, and said "Grab me like you grab yourself, and start pumping."

I did, making a fist around his boner. With his angle being almost straight in front of him, the most convenient grip was with my thumb closer to his body. He was only a little bigger than me. I started pumping about the same speed as the night before, which was fast; two boys on a mission.

"Well that's the problem" he said immediately, "you're not squeezin' tight enough."

I clamped down a bit more.

"It ain't called a hard-on for nothin'," Butch said. "Squeeze harder."

I squeezed even more as I pumped him.

"Almost there, just a little bit tighter," he said. Then he groaned "Yeah, keep goin' just like that."

About 30 seconds later he had his cum. With my hand on his dick I could feel the spasms of his body rehearsing for procreation. He steadied himself with one hand on my shoulder and the other on the divider.

After another minute or so to collect his wits, he said, "Okay, now I'll do you, so you can know how it feels."

He rearranged us so water was pouring over my body. My boner pointed up, so he gripped me with his thumb farther from my body. He gripped me with a practiced hand and started pumping. Right away I understood what I had been missing. Half a minute later I was feeling weak in the knees, stabilizing myself with both hands on his shoulders. "I'm gonna pee," I whimpered.

Butch laughed. "Go ahead!" he said. "If you can, I'll give you a dollar!"

Of course I did not pee, but because of Butch's dare, my first orgasm was not colored by any kind of fear about what sort of fluids my young body might emit. "Thanks!" was all I could say, after I could speak again at all.

Butch leaned out the door again, checking to see if his dad was looking. He shooed me back across the aisle again. Neither of us even touched soap that night, but it's not like Mr. Davis was checking behind the ears of every boy to see if he had actually washed.

Wednesday night

Our timing was off. I had barely been in Butch's shower stall for a minute before Mr. Davis was standing in the door. Neither of us had even got our cums, it just wasn't fair.

"That's enough of that!" he said. "I'll see you boys in my office as soon as we get back to the cabin."

I had never got a spanking before from anyone other than my parents. And in any given year, those spanking numbered fewer than five. I didn't like spankings! But that night I got a spanking from Butch's dad.

Butch and I were wearing only towels around our hips when Mr. Davis called us into his office. The door was closed, and there was a listening silence observed on the other side.

"Butch, you're first, so Tommy will know what to do," Mr. Davis said.

He was seated on his chair, just a straight backed wooden chair like you might find at a kitchen table. He was turned about 45 degrees off center with his left leg pointing out in front, his right leg off to the side. Butch approached, facing him and sort of lay down on his left leg lengthwise. Mr. Davis hooked his left arm around Butch's torso to hold him in place. With his right hand he loosened the twist that held his son's towel in place and flipped the towel out of the way, exposing Butch's bare ass.

He set to work right away, giving Butch ten or twelve rapid smacks on the butt, switching cheeks with each swat. I got less scared right away. Butch squirmed a bit, but from my position I could easily tell his dad wasn't hitting all that hard. He let Butch up, no tears, and handed him his towel. When Butch stood, he had a boner, which I found oddly reassuring. His dad handed him the towel that had been draped over his knee.

I stepped up facing Mr. Davis and tried to sit on his leg facing him, but my towel got in the way so I dropped it on the floor. I straddled his knee then, with my penis right on top of his hairy, bare leg. I leaned forward off to his side and he hooked his arm around me like he had done with Butch. Right away I had a weird, good feeling in my lower belly. It didn't seem like he was holding me to prevent me escaping, but rather like a sort of embrace to support me in a difficult moment. With his first smack on my butt, I knew it would all be okay. It stung, and jolted me a bit, but it didn't really feel like a spanking; full of pain and shame. It was more like an endurance test that I knew I could handle. I could feel my erection growing, pressed as it was between my belly and Mr. Davis's thigh.

It was over too soon though. Eight or ten swats and he stood me up, appraising my reaction. He silently put my towel on the iron hard hook I had ready for it and pointed at the door. Butch and I bolted.

We were like celebrities in the cabin. Not mocked for having got a spanking, but admired for taking it so well. If only they knew. I played Butch's game, feigning nonchalance about something that seemed like it must have hurt. And to be fair, our butts were nicely reddened and there were hints of hand prints in a couple of places. I couldn't see my own butt, but I could see Butch's, and the other boys all said we looked about the same back there.

After the first few inspections, I got tired of flipping my towel out of the way so the other boys could see my cheeks. I went to my bunk and lay face down on it, with my butt exposed. The sheets felt awesome on my towel hook, so I gathered my pillow under my arms and just lay there for a while letting any boy who cared come up and lay his hand on my reddened backside to see how hot it felt. I loved the attention.

I stayed that way after lights out, choosing to sleep naked for the first time at camp. After things quieted down, I found myself not asleep, the events of the evening still playing and replaying in my mind. I began to flex my hips, ever so gently, so as not to disturb Patrick, the boy who slept in the bunk over my head. It felt so good, my junior boner pressed into the mattress.

My mind wandered, revisiting the sensation of the 'spanking' with me straddling Mr. Davis's thigh, my erection pressed against his bare leg. I moved the pillow down from hugging it to my chest and squeezed it between legs. That was more like it.

I stealth-humped my pillow, guided as much by instinct as caution. I quietly and carefully pushed my urgent boner into my pillow. I have no idea how long it actually took. Time lost all meaning there in the dark with the big stand-fans whirring and the scent of all the boys mixing with the scent of the outside air, all laden with pine and mowed grass and lake water.

When it happened, my orgasm took me by surprise. I buried my face in the mattress to stifle my cries of ecstasy. As the throes passed, I turned my face to the side so I could breath properly, and listened for a few minutes, trying to discern if anyone would react to my shouting into the mattress. When it seemed I had not attracted unwanted attention, I relaxed. I pulled the pillow back up under my chest and drifted off to a blissful sleep.

Thursday night

Butch's dad was onto us, so he didn't let us pick out our own stalls. He made Butch go all the way down to the end of the aisle, and told me to take the third stall down on the same side. I went in and wet myself down before I peeked back out, looking down the aisle. I guess Mr. Davis considered the problem solved, because he was already looking the other way.

I got on my hands and knees and squirmed under the divider. That stall was occupied by one of the shy boys, who immediately cupped both his hands over his dick.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Sorry, just passin' through," I said. "You're not gonna rat me out, are you?"

He shook his head. "No way, but you know you're gonna get it again."

"Not if I'm lucky," I said, as I squirmed under the next divider.

The boy in the next stall just laughed and gave me a high five. I squirmed under the last divider into the stall occupied by Butch.

He laughed when he saw me. "It's hard not to want a cummy once you know what you've been missing," he said. "But I already tugged mine out. I gotta wait a few minutes or it's too sensitive."

I started to work on myself with Butch watching.

"But since you came all this way," he said, "I'll help you out with something special. But you gotta promise to give paybacks tomorrow."

"Pinkie swear!" I said.

Butch knelt then and took the head of my dick in his mouth. He used his fingers on my shaft to pull my foreskin back, exposing my glans to the attention of his tongue. He sucked me for a minute before he pulled off.

Ohmigosh! I said. "That feels crazy good. I never knew about mouths before. It's so different and good."

Butch nodded, looking up from between my legs.

"Do you want your paybacks already?" I said. "I thought you were too sensitive."

"I am," he said. "But a pure BJ takes too long. That was just a sampler." He stood up then and tugged me off to our usual quickie.

I crawled back under the dividers to my assigned stall, but when I got there, it was occupied. It was Patrick, my bunk mate. He was a ginger with freckles all over him.

"Hey Hook!" he said. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Sorry," I said. "I was on an errand."

"Beatin' off with Butch, I bet."

I grinned and nodded. "Can I share the stall with you? We should be okay if we leave separately."

About a minute later, Mr. Davis loomed in the doorway. I still had my boner from getting my sampler BJ, and Patrick had just had enough time for the contagious boner rule to come into effect.

Fifteen minutes later we were standing in Mr. Davis' office.

"Sorry I got you into this," I said. "You didn't do anything naughty at all."

"I am literally a red-headed step-child," he said. "This is every other day for me at home. Don't worry about it."

Patrick caught on quick. We both did the spanky dance on the way out of Mr. Davis's office, even though the spanking had been no worse than the night before.

We had eclipsed Butch's celebrity somewhat, which seemed to annoy him. Everyone forgot that he got a spanking that night also, right after dinner. Patrick and I both ended up laying face down on my bunk, our bare butts exposed for inspection.

At lights out, Patrick had to climb back up to his bunk. I stayed below, gently flexing my hips, pressing my boner into the mattress. I waited as long as I could stand it before I pulled my pillow down between my legs and started humping it.

I wasn't as stealthy as I had been the night before. After a few minutes Patrick leaned his head over the edge of the top bunk.

'What are you doing down there?" he said.

"Humping my pillow," I said. "It feels great."

"It's keepin' me awake," he said. "Hurry up already."

I did hurry up. It only took a couple of minutes when I wasn't worried about shaking the bed. I pulled the pillow from between my legs and put it under my chest, letting out a happy sigh. Just a minute or so later, I felt the bed start shaking again, only it wasn't me. I looked up and saw the springs that supported Patrick's mattress flexing to the same rhythm that I had just used. I let him rock me to sleep.

Friday night

Butch didn't get a spanking Friday after dinner. Instead, his dad simply told everyone that Saturday was his birthday. Butch was guaranteed to get about ten spankings the next day, from every group of kids that were numerous enough to hold him down.

Butch also didn't get a shower Friday night. Neither did Patrick. Neither did I. Mr. Davis had decided that letting any two of us be in the shower at the same time was a recipe for shenanigans, so he wasn't taking any chances. He kept a close eye on us, but Butch managed to sneak in a plan. It was just a sentence at a time, but the gist of it was this:

"We'll come back tonight after lights out and get our showers then. Don't try to stay awake, it'll be late. Leave your towels out when you go to bed."

When Patrick and I understood the plan, we put on our metaphorical halos, tarnished though they were, and tried to act like boys accepting their fate.

Back at the cabin, just before lights out, I told Patrick "I'm gonna rock the bed for a little while tonight. I'll try to keep it gentle so it doesn't keep you awake."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I'm gonna be rocking the bed myself."

It was hours later when Butch shook me awake. I was groggy, but not completely out of it.

"C'mon, it's time," he whispered.

When he was sure I was going to keep my eyes open, he climbed up on the side of the bunk to awaken Patrick. That put his towel wrapped hips at eye level for me when I sat up. That helped remind me of our plan and woke me up the rest of the way.

We hurried across the compound to the shower block. It was dark inside, but Butch had brought a flashlight. He had a filter over the lens, so when he switched it on it produced only red light.

"You've done this before," I said.

"You bet I have," Butch said. "I've been comin' to this camp since I was seven years old." He led the way back to the stalls at the far end of the aisle. They were a little bit wider than the other stalls, more suited to accommodating three boys bent on mischief.

"And gettin' a spankin' from your dad every day." Patrick said.

"Pretty much," Butch said, taking off his towel and hanging it over the divider. "But now you know he doesn't spank hard. It's worth it."

"What's worth it?" Patrick said. "Beatin' off in the shower? My step-brother does it all the time."

"BJs are worth it," Butch said.

"BeeJays?" Patrick said as he took off his towel.

"Didn't you tell him?" Butch said, looking at me.

"I didn't exactly have a chance," I said as I took off my towel. "But I didn't think he would mind a surprise."

Patrick was mid-way between a shower and a grower, but boned up we were all close to the same size with Butch having maybe half an inch on Patrick and me.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to give Patrick a sampler then," Butch said, handing me the flashlight and dropping to his knees in front of Patrick.

"Wait, what?" Patrick said.

Butch leaned forward and wrapped his lips around Patrick's dick.

Patrick threw his head back and groaned.

"Blow Jobs," I said. "We're trading blow jobs tonight." I kept the flashlight centered on the action so Patrick and I could watch. Butch had his eyes closed.

"Oh, gosh!" he said. "This is way better than beatin' off!"

Butch popped his mouth off Patrick for a moment to say, "Yeah, but it takes longer, so we can trade around for a while until one of us starts to get close." He went back down on Patrick.

After a few more minutes on Patrick, Butch came up for air again. "Hand the flashlight to Patrick," he told me. "You're gonna do me for a while."

I could smell Butch in the still air inside the shower block. We all had to shower every night, but honestly I liked the odors we created together at dinner. Ripe tween boy pairs well with chili-mac. I licked his tip a couple of times: sweat, pee, and something else. It was like a stinky cheese.

"That's a nice start," Butch said. "But don't be shy, go all the way down. I'll give you pointers."

I puckered up like I was giving a kiss and then pushed my mouth onto Butch's boner, letting his thickness spread my lips.

"First pointer is no teeth, ever!" Butch said.

I mumbled my apology around his dick and opened my jaw wider. He helped me by thrusting his hips, pushing in until he grazed the back of my throat. I gagged a bit but kept going.

"Pointer number two:" Butch said, "it's okay if you gag, just don't stop."

He coached me for a few more minutes before he said, "Okay, Patrick, I hope you've been paying attention. You're gonna do Tommy next. Hand me the flashlight."

Patrick did not shirk. He imitated me and gave me a few little licks on the tip before he took me into his mouth. It felt good, but not as good as when Butch had done it.

"Pointer number three:" Butch said, "it's called a blow job, but really, you need to suck, hard."

Patrick followed instructions and I groaned.

"Number four: when you're not sucking, swirl your tongue around the head of his dick inside your mouth."

I gasped.

"Number five: purse your lips really tight and bob up and down on his shaft."

I let out a high pitched bleat. Butch stopped us.

"You don't get to cum yet," he said. "Now you guys take turns on me until one of you gets it right and I have my cum. I'll hold the flashlight. Try to put together everything I've taught you tonight."

Patrick and I got on our knees in front of Butch. It was easier for us to stay in position if we each put an arm around the other guy's shoulder and the other arm around Butch's butt.

It was a sloppy several minutes. Sometimes Butch would let us compete for his dick, other times he told us which one should be sucking. When I wasn't sucking Butch's dick, I was sucking his balls. They were dripping wet from Patrick and I slobbering all over his dick.

Butch had his cum when Patrick and I improvised. We were both lollipopping him at the same time, licking him from top to bottom as fast as we could, our cheeks crowded together. Butch shuddered and dropped the flashlight. It went out. There in the dark, Butch held a handful of hair on each of us and humped our faces while we held our tongues out, touching each other.

He slumped finally and sat down. From where his voice came, I guessed he was sitting on his butt on the shower floor.

"That was a neat trick there at the end," Butch said. "You guys work well as a team. See if you can find the flashlight."

I found it, then found Butch's shoulder and worked my way down to his hand so I could give him the flashlight. I heard a switch slide a couple of times, then some rattling sounds.

"Dang it, the bulb's busted," Butch said.

"What do we do now?" Patrick said.

"You guys know about 69?" Butch said.

Butch explained the basic idea. A couple of minutes later, Butch had maneuvered Patrick and me into position. We were both laying on our sides on the shower floor, head to crotch.

"Don't start yet," Butch said. "I can't watch you guys with my eyes, but I can kind of watch by feel. And there's something else I wanna do. Don't move."

Patrick and I each gave each other playful licks and giggled. I was excited and nervous and horny.

Then the water from the shower head hit us. Even the cold water was tepid that time of year, so it wasn't shocking. Butch mixed in some hot water until it was about body temperature. I could feel him groping his way into position. He seemed to be kneeling on the floor on the other side of Patrick from me.

I felt one of his hands on my face as he found where I was ready to suck Patrick. I felt his other hand on my dick where Patrick was ready to suck me.

"Okay, go for it," he said. "The winner gets to give me my first birthday spanking."

It was interesting to give and get at the same time. And turned upside down to each other, our tongues were in a different position on our dicks. But the general idea was clear: give the other guy a cum with your mouth before he did the same for you.

We slurped and sucked wildly for the next several minutes, there in the spray of body-temperature water, with Butch's hands roaming all over us, seeing by feeling. He was not bashful where he put his hands, wanting to 'see' all the action.

It was a close thing, but I made Patrick cum before me. At least I thought so. It was that close.

When it was clear we were both done, Butch stood and turned off the water. I sat up on my butt on the floor. I think Patrick did also.

"I won!" Patrick said. "I had my cum first."

"Wait, hunh?" I said. "I thought it was who could make the other guy cum first."

"I guess I could have been more clear," Butch said.

"Maybe we could split your birthday spanking," Patrick said. "Six swats each?"

"How about you both get twelve," Butch said. "It's my fault you didn't know."

"I'm pretty sure you like getting spankings," I said.

"You think?" Patrick said, laughing.

Butch got the first two of his ten or more birthday spankings that day not long after midnight. He bent over and put his hands on his knees. Patrick and I settled on opposite sides and each administered a dozen smacks to his wet, bare butt with our wet, bare hands. Then one to grow on, of course.

I reached between his legs to confirm his boner. "Yep, he likes spankin's," I said.

We groped our way out of the showers and towelled off in the moonlight, then made our way back to the cabin.

I dreamed happy dreams about spanking a monkey.