Part 2 of this little story. More to come. As always, please give a little something to Nifty for providing this great place, and please drop me a line if you enjoy this story. You can get me at rwxxx13@yahoo.com

Chapter Two

“I still can't believe she did that,” Tony said, laughing. “Ice-pack on your balls. Classic, man.”

“I'd just die if a grown-up lady saw my junk,” Lucas opined and shuddered, sure his dick shrank a little just from the thought of it.

“I'd love it if Nurse Baker touched my balls,” Tony said. “I bet I'd blow a load all over her.”

“Gross,” Lucas frowned.

“Yeah, like you don't do it,” Tony grinned, miming jacking off and laughing when the brown-haired boy blushed.

The boys were dressed in swim trunks, Oliver in blue, Lucas in red, and Tony in green, which were all nearly knee length on them except for Tony, who wore an older pair which fit tightly and ended higher on his thighs. All the boys were shirtless and wore flip-flops. They all had towels over their slim shoulders. They had free swim time and Tony, the veteran of the group, currently enjoying his third year at Camp Hiawatha, said he knew of a secret swimming spot.

From the window of the clinic, Nurse Angela Baker let the blind fall back into place. She'd seen the three half-naked boys walking off into the woods, laughing with each other. She felt a gnawing hunger in her pussy at the sight. Little Oliver had apparently kept his silence, but there was a part of her that wished he'd blabbed to his friends and that they'd crept to her door looking for what she'd given the little blond boy. They were all good-looking boys. She wished she were going swimming with them. What a thing that would be.

Sighing, the young woman went to her desk and sat. Not a single camper had been to the clinic so far and she was bored. That was compounded by the fact that she couldn't get thoughts of Oliver and his adorable little cock out of her mind. She found her legs spreading, without quite meaning to do it, and then her hand was sliding up the inside of her thigh. She had to adjust her tight uniform a bit, but then she was able to touch herself.

Angela felt positively wicked, touching her pussy in broad daylight, knowing that someone could come through the door at any moment. Her fingers touched her bare, hairless pussy. She was wearing her usual white hose and garters, but she wore no panties that day. She'd had it in her mind as she dressed that perhaps Oliver would come pay her another visit, or maybe one of his little friends, or maybe all three of them at once. She hadn't wanted the complication of underwear, and imagined their faces when they saw she wasn't wearing any. With her mind full of images of pubescent cock, however, she worried that she was going to make a mess of her uniform.

She was jarred from those thoughts, and the sensation of her finger sliding gently into her gripping hole, when she heard footsteps on the wooden stairs outside her door. She hurriedly withdrew her finger and adjusted the hem of her uniform. She was rubbing her hands with disinfectant lotion when the door opened.

There was a voice, not a boy's voice, which said, “I don't wanna hear it, Jamie.”

Apparently the argument was ongoing, and Angela straightened in her chair as she recognized that the man speaking was Tyler, a nineteen-year-old counselor who ran one of the cabins for the older boys. She heard an indistinct voice say something, and then Tyler said, “Now.”

The man held the door for a boy, who slunk in with his head down and his hands thrust into the pockets of cut-off jeans, white fringe dancing around his thin thighs. The boy had a shaggy mop of dirty blond hair, and having heard the name Jamie she knew this must be Jamie Lee Waters, a fourteen-year-old who was at Camp Hiawatha for his second summer.

Tyler finally turned to face her after allowing the door to swing shut behind the boy. Tyler was a business major at the local university. He'd been working at Camp Hiawatha for two summers and had been a camper from thirteen to fifteen, before Angela's time. He was a nice enough looking guy, with wire-frame glasses. He was tall and gangly, a bit like young Jamie. He'd never tried to hit on her, which she appreciated, but he wasn't beyond a bit of playful flirting, which she also appreciated.

Tyler bent down and spoke softly to the boy, who never lifted his head, then he came to Angela's desk. She stood to greet him. “Jamie apparently has a bit of a heat rash,” Tyler confided in a soft tone. He glanced back at the boy and Angela followed his gaze. The fourteen-year-old was squirming uncomfortably and shifting from foot to foot. He was staring fixedly at the floor. In an even softer voice, Tyler concluded, “In a sensitive place.”

“Gotcha,” Angela said with a smile and a wink. In a normal tone she continued, saying, “I think I've got this, Tyler. Leave him with me. I'll send him along later.”

“Thanks, Angela,” the man replied, and he gave Jamie a squeeze on the shoulder and a word or two of encouragement before leaving.

Angela followed Tyler to the door. After watching him walk down the stairs she pulled the door closed. With her body blocking any view from the teen, she carefully clicked the deadbolt. Then she turned with a smile to address the boy, who was still staring at the floor.

“Come on,” she said, “it can't be that bad.”

“It just itches like crazy,” the boy allowed, still not meeting her eyes.

“Well, that's a fairly easy fix,” she assured him. “The hard part for you is likely what's next.” She walked over to the exam table and patted it to the sound of crinkling paper. The paper she'd gotten screwed on by Oliver had been discarded.

“Now,” she said, “where is this rash?”

Jamie didn't answer, just squirmed uncomfortably. Angela wasn't sure if it was because of the rash, or embarrassment.

“Please come over here,” she said, patting the table again. Reluctantly, the boy moved toward her. “Now,” she said as he reached her, “you're going to have to tell me where the rash is, Jamie.”

“On my belly,” the boy mumbled.

“On your belly,” she confirmed. “Anywhere else?”

The boy shrugged.

Angela sighed. “Okay, so we'll start with the belly, I guess. Please remove your shirt.”

Jamie gave her a quick peek through the bangs that were hanging in his eyes, then he reached down and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt. Like Oliver's, Jamie's Camp Hiawatha shirt was too tight for him, which she knew was likely a contributing factor in the heat rash. He peeled it up over his head, for a quick moment exposing his armpits, which Angela was thrilled to see were still hairless.

“There we go,” she said once the boy had removed his shirt. She took it from him and tossed it toward her desk. “Hmm,” she mused, examining his upper body. “That's a heat rash alright.”

The boy was covered in angry red bumps, as well as many small white blisters that resembled drops of sweat. Heat rash was caused when sweat glands were blocked, and the blisters, where sweat was trapped, would develop into the little red bumps which itched terribly if left untreated.

“You should have come in when this first started,” she scolded the boy.

“It didn't itch at first,” Jamie said softly.

“Well, I'm sure it's itching now.” Jamie nodded miserably. “Alright, let's see the rest.”

“Miss?” he asked.

Angela sighed again in frustration. “We both know that's not all of it. Now, are you going to take off your shorts, or am I?”

“I... I... yes, miss,” the boy stammered. Hands shaking a bit, he reached down and unbuttoned his denim shorts, then slid down the zipper. He hesitated, and she caught a glint of green eyes as he briefly caught her eyes again. Blushing deeply, he pushed down his shorts. The briefs were baby blue with a white waistband and two slanting white stripes framing the crotch. There was a panel of black on the left hip. They looked to be a size too small, and they hugged his little package.

Angela put a hand on the boy's stomach, lightly touching the little bumps which led downward into the top of the briefs. She couldn't help but compare him to Oliver. He was taller, of course. About five-foot-four compared to Oliver's four-eleven. Both were slender boys, but Jamie had a gangling quality to him, big feet and awkward limbs. His lower legs were covered in golden down. The bumps on his skin were more pronounced around the waistband of his briefs.

Reaching down, Angela pushed down the front of the boy's underwear a few inches, seeing more of the rash, as well as a few errant brown pubic hairs. Jamie's body stiffened in surprise and alarm. “Just the belly,” she said dryly, allowing the boy's briefs to snap back into place. “Okay, off with them.”

“Nurse... please,” the boy begged.

“Off,” she repeated in a tone of voice which brooked no argument. “Then hop up on the table.”

She turned then, much as she had with Oliver, to give the teen a modicum of privacy. She went to the sink and washed her hands. She didn't need to, she was just covering. What were the chances of seeing two naked boys in two days? she wondered. She felt a throbbing between her legs at the thought. Jamie seemed so shy, and that was turning her on immensely.

Grabbing some things from the medicine chest, she turned back to the boy, who was sitting naked on the table, his bony ankles crossed, his head down, face hidden by a curtain of shaggy hair, and both hands cupped protectively over his genitals. She walked up to him, and in what she hoped was a soothing tone, said, “Jamie, I know you're embarrassed, but I'm a nurse. Trust me when I say I've seen it all. Now lay back, honey, and put your arms to your sides.”

After some hesitation, the trembling stiffness in his body evidence of his embarrassment, if the burning cheeks weren't sufficient, he awkwardly turned and got his feet up on the table, then leaned back, knees raised protectively and still cupping his groin. He turned his head away from her, facing the wall, and then hesitated again before finally, slowly, lowering his hands.

Angela sighed and pushed the boy's knees down, until his legs were flat on the exam table. As she'd suspected, the prickly rash was especially deep along where his waistband had been. She could also see it peeking out in the creases of his thighs. Mostly though, her attention was on the boy's exposed penis and testicles. Another grower, she mused, noting the small, wrinkled penis. Unlike Oliver though, Jamie had a small, but full little bush of pubic hair, perhaps an inch high. The pubes were a light brown in color, but curly and wrapped around the base of his shriveled dick. Interestingly, he seemed to have no hair at all on his wrinkly scrotum, which was several shades darker than his penis. The penis itself seemed a bit larger than Oliver's, resting at around two inches, and a bit thicker as well.

Jamie once again had crossed his ankles. “Going to need these apart, young man,” Angela said, placing her hands on his knobby knees and gently prying them apart. Jamie helped spread them, and his balls dropped a bit lower.

“Especially bad here, hmm?” she asked, running a finger along the place where the waistband of his briefs had been.

“It itches like crazy,” the boy said, and with his head still turned away he brought up his left hand and scratched at the area she had just touched, making his little penis bounce.

Angela lightly smacked his hand. “Enough of that,” she scolded. “You're just making it worse.”

“But it itches,” he complained.

“I'll take care of that in just a moment. In the meantime, try to control yourself.”

Angela picked up a topical steroid cream and unscrewed the cap. It had a mild anesthetic, so should help with the itching. She reached for and slid a purple surgical glove onto her right hand, then squeezed a dollop onto her fingers. “Just relax now,” she said, and then she began to spread the lotion onto Jamie's belly. He flinched. She continued to rub it in, her fingers moving lower and lower on his body. She reached the waistband section and had to apply more cream.

“Isn't that nice?” she asked.

“I guess,” he allowed in his muffled voice.

“Turn up on your side,” she instructed, after she'd reached all she could from his current position. She slid a hand under his ass to help him, and he turned to face the wall. She admired his muscular young ass as she spread the cream around.

“A bit down here as well,” she said, and slid her fingers down into the crack of the boy's ass, which was actually free of any redness. She just wanted to touch him, and enjoyed the way he squirmed as she worked her fingers lower and lower. The boy flinched as she reached his little pucker, and she rubbed it several times, even sliding her fingers as far up along his taint as his closed thighs would permit.

“Okay, slide back,” she said and pulled gently on his hip. He rolled onto his back again, but still kept his face turned toward the wall. She thought perhaps his cock was a bit fuller.

Spreading the boy's legs again, which had closed when he came to rest again on his back, she applied more cream to her fingers. “This might tickle,” she warned. Then she slid her fingers into the crease of his right thigh. Jamie gasped as her fingers brushed against the side of his scrotum, and his little balls shifted inside their hairless sac. She probed deeper, her thumb riding alongside his teen nuts.

“It can get especially bad in creases like this,” she said. “It must itch horribly.”

“Uh-huh,” the boy said, his voice croaking.

“Under here, too, I'm guessing,” she said, smiling with amusement at his discomfort while she used her bare left hand to gently lift his testicles. Jamie let out a helpless groan. “I know it's uncomfortable,” she said soothingly while she used her right hand to spread the cream underneath his balls, then up along the crease of his left thigh.

She made a show of leaning down and examining him more closely. “Hmm, some here, too,” she said, applying more cream to her gloved fingers. Then she took the boy's balls in her hand and began to gently massage the cream into them.

That was apparently too much for the boy, as his little penis began to stretch, inching its way through his little pubic bush. “Just relax,” she said soothingly while continuing to massage his balls.

“Miss, please,” Jamie croaked hoarsely.

“It's okay, Jamie,” she said, thrilled at his unease and the power she had over him. “That's perfectly natural. Just relax.” She was anything but relaxed, however. She could feel her own tension growing as she watched the fourteen-year-old's cock grow harder and longer. Finally it reached its full length, and then it lifted upward, bouncing slightly with the movement of her hand and pulsing with his heartbeat.

The boy's cock was close to five inches long, and a bit over an inch thick. He was circumcised, and unlike Oliver's widely flared head, Jamie's glans was more bullet-shaped, with just a little bit of tissue remaining from his foreskin to mar the line of that streamlined shaft. She wondered if she dared touch it. Had she already pushed her luck with Oliver? Was going for two young cocks asking for trouble?