Date: Wed, 12 Dec 2018 18:19:27 +0000 (UTC) From: brad rent Subject: Wilson Goes to Camp, Chapter 19 attached This is a fictional story of one man's entry into orbit about his penis. It's called "Wilson Goes to Camp and will probably end up at about 30 chapters or so, even though I've only written 19 so far (sorry, this number keeps changing—this story is sort of writing itself!) I cum multiple times while writing each chapter! The pages are probably still a little sticky--sorry. I invite feedback at brad_rent@yahoo.com. Please make a contribution to Nifty.org to make sure these and other stories keep being published—and I get to keep cumming! Chapter 19- The Manor Before we went to the gym that morning, Clay told us that we were supposed to "save a cum-load" for the afternoon; he wouldn't tell us what exactly we'd be doing but that we were to gather back at our cabin after lunch and wait for him. During the morning wrestling match, where we helped `inspire' a few of the shyer campers to masturbate openly with us, most of cabin 5 had already shot one load today. However, based on our experience from day one, we were all anxious—and fully capable—of another round or two of ejaculatory bliss before the day was over! Sitting around on our bunks after lunch gave us another opportunity to ogle each other's bodies while languidly stroking our own penises in anticipation of the afternoon's events. I was again struck by the beauty of the naked bodies lounging around our cabin. I played a little game in my mind where I `created' the perfect 16-year-old, using bits and pieces of the various guys in cabin 5. Obviously, my `Frankenstein' would need to have Tristan's beautiful olive-mocha skin tone as well as Brandon's muscular physique. These attributes would have to hang on our tallest camper—I don't remember his name now, but his six-plus-foot frame would, of course, have Dennis's long, thick cock and fat, hairless balls. To complete the picture, Clay's wide-spread, boyish bubble butt and nearly hairless crack would round out the perfect masturbator from our cabin. Just as I was throbbing and stroking toward another super juicy orgasm, Clay entered as naked as the rest of us—but only half hard—followed by two older men, one dressed in gym shorts and the other in dress slacks; both wore bate-camp polos. I recognized Mr. Cooper right away and noticed immediately that he was semi-hard, with the glans of his perfect penis stretching out the fabric of his nylon shorts and threatening to peek out one leg hole. I also noticed for the first time that his hard nipples were straining against the fabric of his tight shirt. We only got to see him naked for a second or two after his welcome speech yesterday—and that was from pretty far away; after studying the dudes in my cabin for the past half hour, I wanted to see him naked too so I could check out his impressive body—and maybe shop his `parts' for my `Frankenstein' creation. Clay stepped forward and announced, "I think you'll all remember our camp director, Mr. Cooper... I'm going to ask him to introduce our other guest. "Greetings, campers," said FC in his polished English accent. "It's good to see you all again—and I do mean all of you," Titters over his intentional double entendre. "It's my pleasure to introduce Mr. Milton Ferguson. Everyone knows Mr. Ferguson as `Massey' around camp; how he came to have that nickname, I'll let him explain himself. Massey is the main benefactor and founder of bate camp. He is also the CEO of a couple of large corporations, including Ferguson Limited, a British company that specializes in providing world-wide entertainment and hotel venues, mainly." Everyone was focused on FC and his impressive body as he spoke from the front of the room, I took the opportunity to sneak a peek at our second visitor, Massey; I was struck initially with his rugged good looks. A fit, tall man in his 50s with a twinkle in his eye, a full head of dark hair and a handsome face, complete with a deep cleft in his chin and a thin moustache, he reminded me of Clark Gable. The tight polo shirt allowed a pretty good impression of his muscular physique as well. His pecs were high and tight; his thick, round shoulders were a walking testament to the hours he probably spent in a gym each week. His prominent nipples strained against the tight fabric of his shirt. He apparently didn't see me studying him while he methodically gazed around the room, studying the face and body of each camper in turn, making sure to pause while assessing the `whole man.' By that I mean he stared at each boy, slowly dropped his gaze to assess everyone's chest, torso, crotch and ass of us in turn. I saw a bulge growing in his trousers during his inspection tour; because those slacks were fairly baggy, the fact that I could see any details of his penis at all probably meant there was a fairly impressive boner stirring within; one probably unconstrained by underwear of any kind. I hoped we'd get to see it before the day was out. Continuing with his introduction, FC said, "In his latest venture, Massey's about to begin operating ocean-going cruises and opening exotic resorts in the South Pacific as well as Hawaii and the Philippines. Of particular interest to you all is that he has chartered specialty venues such as our camp facility here. He also owns and operates various adult, members-only country houses scattered around Europe that cater to an elite clientele of, shall we say, open-minded people with exotic prurient interests—and that brings me to the purpose for our visit here today. "One such members-only house you're all going to get to visit this afternoon is on the other side of this rather large property... it's his first and oldest such facility; I think you'll find it quite in line with your experiences here at bate camp—we're also very proud to have a facility of this caliber and reputation right here on our own grounds. It draws its membership from the wealthy `connoisseurs of sex' throughout Europe, as well as a few from Scandinavia and the Americas—even though there are now similar facilities on their own continents. This particular house, as I said, was Mr. Ferguson's first foray into this field; founded 20 years ago, it's called `Massey Manor' and I know you'll find it an exciting place to spend your afternoon. Hmm, I thought, exotic prurient interests... connoisseurs of sex... I wondered if that means its members come here to just watch or if they also take part in various sexual adventures! I also wondered if the juxtaposition of bate camp and Massey Manor on the same property meant we were part of the `draw' of this particular club and whether we'd just be observers or also participants today. Little did I know how prophetic—and how arousing—that observation was! I looked over at Tristan; I could tell from his raised eyebrows and throbbing penis that he was having the same thoughts as me. Many other boners in the group confirmed that most of us were getting a similar picture and anticipating the fun. Most of the cocks in the room were at full mast and being stroked... some even had their free hands caressing their neighbor's round ass. We were, after all, a very sharing group! "It's very nice to meet you all," chimed in Massey in a surprisingly non-British accent. "Hopefully before the end of the day, I'll know each of your names and will have learned more about each of your backgrounds... I've seen most of the interview tapes you made with FC here. Let me say that you are an impressive group of young men... when we combine your unique backgrounds with the results of yesterday's performance, it's no wonder you were the first group picked to visit the manor... not every cabin will be so lucky. I see most of you are excited about this afternoon's prospects, anyway." More titters as he gazed around at the feast of naked, hard flesh that surrounded him. Mr. Cooper added, "When Massey talks about the results of yesterday's performance, he's referring to your preference tests of yesterday afternoon... collectively and individually, most of you demonstrated specific interests and preferences for the sort of activities you'll observe—and participate in—over at the manor today. Additionally, we closely observed you all in your other encounters yesterday; we feel you're the cabin most ready to experience `Massey Manor' today. "I think I'm hearing you say that we're the cabin that produced the most sperm yesterday," asked Dan in his cockney accent. "True?" We all cracked up—even Massey and FC chuckled a bit. "Basically, I guess that's exactly what it boils down to," FC replied. "Maybe we can get you to produce even more today! Despite Dan's funny question and answer, I was wondering the same thing. I fully understood how they were able to see the results of our preference testing yesterday—the way it was explained by Travis, the stud that administered the test, our individual and collective results were submitted to various academic journals that present data on human sexuality. It wasn't surprising that these two had seen our results... what did surprise me was that they evidently were able to keep track of our individual and group orgasmic activity throughout the day! Did those bracelets that we all wore enable them to know when we were hard and how much sperm we produced!?! Ah, technology! Thinking back on our activities and discussions of yesterday, I smiled, wondering if they also knew that Sid liked to fuck animals. "You were going to tell us how you got the nickname `Massey,'" said Dennis. "Oh yes, well, that goes back to my younger days when I was a lad a bit younger than you all... my father owned a company—also called Ferguson Limited—that built farm equipment; when I was about 10, he merged his company with a Canadian firm; the company they formed was renamed `Massey-Ferguson'; everybody forgot my real first name and started calling me `Massey' after that. It just stuck, I guess; now, 40 years later, that's just my name; only my wife and family—and of course FC here, remember my actual first name. I resurrected the old Ferguson Limited name for my new company when I opened bate camp and Massey Manor 20 years ago. So both FC and Massey have wives... do they `play' at the manor or not? I wondered. "Did that answer your question, son?" Dennis nodded yes. "In that case, I'm going to turn you back over to your counselor; he'll brief you on what you'll be seeing today and pass out your outfits... let me explain. The manor is a private club; nudity is certainly allowed—and encouraged—inside the building; we've found, however, that outside the walls, certain factions, shall we say, watch from great distances through powerful binoculars for what they consider obscene or vulgar displays. They promptly report what they believe to be unlawful behavior to the authorities. I guess rumors had spread that we were violating English sex laws—we've actually been raided on occasion, but have never been found to violate any laws... mind you, what goes on inside the walls probably violates certain sensibilities, but no laws. However, while you're outside the house, we need you clothed in order to avoid further difficulties. You are all above the age of consent here in Britain, so we're not concerned about that aspect of any complaints; we just don't want it reported that someone saw a dozen `Adonises' get off a bus and prance up to our door naked and fully erect—and by erect, I don't mean just standing on your own two feet!" More titters. "The outfits your counselor will pass out are sufficient to keep us out of trouble until you're inside the house. Then you can feel free to strip down again to show off these beautiful bodies. After the two older men left, Clay made sure each of us donned our own footgear, then had us slip on nylon running shorts and bate camp t-shirts that he provided. As a nod to the `exotic prurient' nature of our visit, the liners in the nylon shorts had been slit open in front, allowing anyone that wished to push their genitals through it with only the thin black outer layer covering their loose cocks and balls. The outer fabric might not conceal a boner very well, but from a distance, no one would be able to determine our religion at least! If anyone did decide to stay `dressed' while in the house, the thin outer garment allowed for easy viewing and unfettered access to each barely concealed penis. "Whether you decide to strip or not inside the house, make sure you all wear your electronic bracelet at all times... it'll mark you as one of the visiting campers—I'll explain why that's important once we're on the bus—and it will also allow us to find you when it's time to go... we don't really have a set return time, but the level of activity in the manor will determine when it's time for us to head back. That sounded a bit cryptic, but I guess we'd find out what that meant later, too. Once we were all dressed, a quick once-over by Clay that we were adequately covered out the door we went. We got some stares from the other naked campers as we made our way across the campus; then through and out the front of the main camp building. We climbed onto a small bus out front; after a quick head count by Clay—who was wearing the same outfit as the rest of us—we were on our way. I plopped down in a seat near the back next to Tristan; almost as soon as we were seated, he lowered the elastic waistband of his shorts and tucked them under his fat nutsack, fully exposing his throbbing penis. He then slid a hand up my thigh and pulled my dick and tight balls out through my pant leg, where he could stroke my naked, throbbing boner. His strokes felt way better than my own—I've learned over the years that it's always felt better having someone else stroke you. Don't get me wrong—I love to masturbate my own penis but having someone else do it—especially while I enjoy stroking theirs as well—is way better. I grabbed his hot meat and stroked him at the same pace as his pumps on my own dick. The property must have been huge, as it took us about 15 minutes to drive around to the other side using the public roads. During the drive, Clay sat in the front seat of the bus and used a microphone to talk about the manor. "I see that some of you have pulled your penises free of the shorts and are already masturbating yourselves or your seat-mates—that's quite OK to have them out while we're on the bus... but as Massey told you earlier, you'll be required to put them away before getting off the bus and walking to the manor house. It's also ok if you're still hard and showing through the material, just so you're covered once we exit the bus. I don't think this will be your choice, but if you're uncomfortable getting naked after you're in the house, feel free to wear your kit the entire time we're there; you'll notice pretty quickly that there will be a mix of clothing worn by the members and staff, but most people are naked the entire time they're in the house. Don't be ashamed—and certainly don't tease those that want to remain clothed—I'll remind you all that most of you had never been completely naked—let alone boned up—in front of other people until you got to camp Sunday. Once you enter the manor, it will be your first `exposure' to girls, women and older men for many of you; this may make some of you a bit shy. That's why you've been offered the choice of remaining clothed. If you do take off the shorts and shirts, just make sure a staff member collects them; they'll set them aside so they're available for you to put on again when we leave. "Speaking of staff, the workers at Massey Manor distinguish themselves from the members by always dressing formally—of a sort... for the males, that means various combinations of black bow ties worn around the neck—and sometimes that's all they're wearing, depending on whatever sexual activity they're participating in. If they're in a situation that warrants a modicum of dignity, such as in the dining room, serving drinks throughout the property, or greeting new arrivals, they also wear black spandex trunks that actually conceal nothing, really—think Chippendales dancers and I think you'll get the idea. Last time I was here, the female staff wore various combinations of tiny `French maid' costumes. Sometimes that's just a collar, cuffs and nothing else; sometimes it's a black bikini top and/or bottom and sometimes it's a black one-piece; again, one that hides nothing but preserves some dignity, depending on the particular situation. The house is probably going to be crowded today... word has leaked that there's a bate camp group visiting today—that's a highlight of the summer season for the members, by the way; FC and Massey want you to know how much they appreciate our being willing to observe and participate as much or as little as you wish this afternoon. It'll be pretty obvious once we're inside that the membership appreciates the `eye candy' that cabin 5 will be providing today. "This is a great time to add another comment here specifically about Massey Manor. You may have heard of other sex clubs around the world—mostly in Europe—where they encourage what is generally known as `swinging'—primarily heterosexual partnering with various other couples or single men and women with an interest in heterosexual sex. While homosexual activity is tolerated by way of special `gay nights' or `girls nights out' at those clubs, their mainstream activity is heterosexual voyeurism and partnering. You'll all remember that here at bate camp, we don't believe human sexuality is either hetero- or homo-sexual—that we all fall somewhere along a spectrum of attraction to both sexes. This not-so-subtle belief is at the core of Massey's philosophy for all his clubs. It started here at bate camp for teens and their dads many years ago; Massey Manor is the adult embodiment of that philosophy. Bate camp is for guys your age; you could say that Massey Manor is the grownup version that includes women. In fact, a good percentage of our members are former bate campers from years past; they are usually accompanied by their current, sympathetic partners. Before you get the impression that all the members are dirty old men and their hag wives, I think you'll be surprised at the youthful vitality and vigorous sexual stamina that these slightly older people display... most are very fit and attractive... many also many bring their children—of legal age of course—and other guests that might be closer to your generation. "This focus on human sexuality—be it sex with people of either gender—has proved wildly popular as Mr. Ferguson develops and opens other clubs around the world. Simply put, the focus here at Massey Manor—and the thing that sets it apart from other sex clubs—is a central focus on the male penis. This isn't something that's actually advertised per se, but it doesn't take long for the membership to catch on that Massey clubs are places where men come to use their penis on, in or with other people—and watch others do the same. It is a subtle distinction that explains why you're all going to be so popular today. Your collective willingness to share your bodies with each other will make you fit right in here at the Manor today. Don't misunderstand—this is by no means a gay club—anything but! While everyone understands the unique focus on the `male members,' shall we say, many people—men and women—pay big bucks to belong to a club like this that recognizes the common interest in participating and watching penises being used and appreciated by people of all ages, races and genders. The wait list for membership is in the hundreds, I might add. "Let me also say that the members may be fully clothed or may be completely nude or anything in between. They know they're not to force you to do anything you don't consent to—by the way that's not the case with the staff. The staff is hired—and expected—to provide a service to all the members; they may be compelled to do just about anything a member asks them to. I think the job descriptions call this `erotic servitude,' and each and every one of them is hired fully aware of that requirement. In the dining room, as I mentioned, the staff generally remains covered while serving, but you may notice that the guests wear just about anything they wish—or nothing at all. You may wander freely throughout the facility today—in most areas, at least—watching or participating in anything and with anyone you wish. You have been afforded the status of `guest,' meaning that you can enjoy most of the privileges of the members. The only thing that will distinguish you from a guest is your wrist band... the staff members know that you're guests and will respect any request you make as long as it doesn't interfere with their duty to service the paying members. That said, I think I can guarantee that you will be very popular today and probably won't have much time to originate any activities yourselves... I'm pretty sure you'll be the center of attention no matter which area you settle in. Tristan and I rubbed pre-cum around the tips of each other's penis... we were both leaking pretty freely by now. There was excited chatter—and vigorous masturbating--happening all over the bus as Clay further described the house. I didn't hear the exact question, but from Clay's answer, someone near him up front must have asked him to describe the manor's layout. "I've been here two or three times—once as a camper and twice as a counselor... I've been in many but not all of the rooms over the years—and they change them up occasionally—but here's a few I remember. First, let me say that most of the areas have mirrored walls... at least they appear mirrored. Where you see a mirror, it's more than likely a one-way glass. Many guests like to watch themselves diddle, masturbate and play with others from in front of the `mirrors,' but the glass wall is set out from the edges of each room far enough to allow anyone to freely wander back and see but not be seen. Some guests choose to watch anonymously from behind the glass, either alone or in groups as that may be their particular fantasy; the one-way glass fully enables these voyeurs as well as those in front who like to watch themselves in `flagrante delecto.' Occasionally, `hidden-camera' type filming—with FC and Massey approval and warning to all the guests—is possible throughout the facility by way of the one-way glass... and oh, by the way, some of the hottest action takes place behind these one-way mirrors, where people have the illusion of privacy. "As I was saying," Clay continued talking while most of the cocks on the bus continued leaking, "the main floor lounge, dining room, veranda and other common areas have numerous seating areas separated by oriental or carved screens or large potted plants; each area provides for semi-discreet encounters by various groups interested in particular `adventures'... for example, I've seen full-on orgies of six or more couples in one seating area with everyone trading partners when the spirit moved. Creative fucking seems the norm in these sessions with all the participants watching each other in various combinations of men and women, on various pieces of furniture and in various orifices. I've also seen mixed masturbation—men and women pleasuring themselves in full view of other masturbators with or without pornography on the TV while other members strolled by; some pausing to participate; some merely watching. Usually, no touching of others is allowed—it's sort of a `showing off' party—but it will be pretty clear what the expectation is if you see one of these groups. Open masturbation, by the way, is one of the favorite pastimes in the mansion. Everyone seems to be either stroking themselves or the person next to them almost constantly. Expect to be enjoyed by many different people today—and `feel free' to enjoy others as well—pun intended! We all giggled at that visual. Thinking about freely handling anyone we wished caused my cock to give a lurch that Tristan noticed through his tight fist. He released me just in time to keep me from spraying goo all over the seatback. After the crisis passed, he resumed stroking my slimy, throbbing penis, and I his. "I've even seen a game of strip poker where the bets progress beyond simple articles of clothing—once a particularly poor player is naked, sex acts get put on the table as bets. If a person bets some sex act and loses, it happens right there in front of all the other players. For example, if a person, say, bets a blowjob and they lose—said blowjob ensues right there. It's also quite common for you to come across a `gang bang' in one area with someone—it may be a staff person or a club member; man or woman—tied up, blindfolded and open to whatever you or anyone, really, wishes to do to them. Another time they set up half of the dining room as a mock auction—people bid on having a particular staff person or other member perform some sex act in full view of everyone present. There was even a `staged' rape once, complete with screaming and struggles. It's not uncommon to see Bukakkes on both men and women; they're more common in the bar area off the veranda, where it's easier to clean up after, or in one of the upstairs bedrooms where no one seems to care how much sperm gets spewed. By the way, the upstairs bedrooms are places I love visiting... you'll find all the variations I've just described downstairs, but somehow people are more intense in the smaller rooms upstairs. Also each bedroom has a large en-suite bathroom; there's always a party in the huge shower or in the large spa tubs also located in each bathroom. I should add that none of the bedrooms or bathrooms have doors, inviting any and all to enter each space and enjoy the bodies there. I again had to slow Tristan's stroking pace on my distended penis. If I had let him continue, between my visions of the mansion and Tristan's expert manipulation of my cock and balls, I would have cum a bucket—and there we were with no cum rags on the bus! "If you do encounter a locked door," continued Clay, "it is more than likely a staff preparation area—such as the kitchen or pantry—or the director's office. The only area I've never been invited to is what they call the `special activities' wing. I've seen staff going and coming through the door to that area, but it's guarded and I've been asked to tell you that the guard posted there—be they male or female—is about the only person in the mansion required to be clothed at all times; they're absolutely not available for `erotic servitude' in any form. "I hope the cooks have all their clothes on," said Brandon, panting, pumping and near cumming just like I was. Seeing him stroke his thick, hard cock while thinking about what the cooks were wearing cracked us up. The crazed look in his eyes showed just how excited he was at the prospect of using his impressive penis this afternoon. Clay continued, "I don't really know what happens behind that door, but I can't imagine anything that could transpire that couldn't also happen in the rest of the facility. "Maybe that's the dungeon," offered Sid, our animal lover, "you know, where they torture and tie people up and stuff." "You mean where they keep the really sexy farm animals—like all the cute little goats, don't you?" asked Andy quickly before Clay could reply. We all laughed at that and Sid blushed... all the way to his hard, throbbing penis. Maybe Sid will get a chance to fuck a goat today, I thought. Clay regained control quickly by adding "If you venture down the stairs to the cellar, you'll find the more `base' activities... like S and M—some people like to be tied up and tortured, or like to tie up somebody else and diddle or torment them until they cum... or tease them until they're begging to cum, but deny them that release. This torture can include `tools', shall we say—clamps, bands, ropes, gags, dildos, candle wax—you name it; they're all there. Other times the torture is more subtle, like tickling, tit torment, caging, or like I said, cum denial. "I hope that gives you a brief glimpse of what's in the manor. We're just now coming to the gate, so hold the rest of your questions for now... I need to speak with the gate guard... and you guys stop teasing Sid! While Clay was off the bus, the excited chatter continued and the plethora of throbbing boners testified that, as a group, we were all anxious to use our penises to pleasure as many others as possible, but mostly ourselves. "I wonder if there is actually a zoo for Sid," someone yelled from the back of the bus. We all laughed again and enjoyed teasing. He didn't blush this time—I guess he was getting used to our teasing... maybe he was beginning to enjoy his reputation. Clay re-entered the bus with a handful of papers and pens; he told the driver we were ready to head for the house. The guard opened the huge wrought-iron gates; after we passed, they closed behind us. The road followed a long drive that wound its way through thick woods while Clay continued our orientation. "One final thought—each of your parents has given permission for you to be exposed to what happens at the manor... specifically, each of you has been `cleared'—by your parents at least—for sexual activity with men and women as you elect to participate. Again, consent is the rule here... no one can compel you to do anything you're not comfortable with—and that goes both ways. Just respect each other, the staff and the other members and you will have a great time today. "I'm passing out a generic non-disclosure agreement and asking you to sign it before you get off the bus... the Massey Manor membership bylaws require all guests to sign this form. It basically says that no photography is allowed unless approved by the management. It also says that if you recognize a celebrity or politician—or other family member, preacher or even your next door neighbor—absolutely no blabbing back at camp outside of your group is allowed; you may not divulge any of what you're about to experience here, even after you leave camp—except to each other, of course. I'm pretty sure that you'll be reliving what you'll encounter today for years with each other—but no one outside this circle, gents. I still chat from time to time with my bate-camp mates about what we witnessed—and took part in—here at the mansion; it always leads to a pretty hot bate session. Just at that moment, we emerged from the woods; there before us was a massive four-story sand-colored mansion that looked like a miniature—though not by much—version of Downton Abbey from the TV show, complete with a large reflecting pool and gardens surrounding the main house. Looking around the bus, everyone was bug-eyed and gob struck with their faces pressed against the windows. Filing off the bus, I noticed that most of the boners had subsided—all were stunned staring at the huge, ornate building and the immaculate grounds; at least for the moment, we forgot our penises. Everybody had tucked their genitals back into their shorts as we filed off the bus. We milled around open-mouthed and staring as Clay did another head count, collected the signed forms and marshalled us toward the massive double front door. To say the entry was grand was a gross understatement. This was a palace of such opulence as I've never encountered before or since. The huge double front doors opened onto a foyer that was lined with gilt frames, mirrors and expensive furnishings covered with museum-quality sculptures and art work. The room was complete with curved marble stairs and a crystal and gold chandelier as big as a car hanging from a 30-foot ceiling. I barely noticed any of the people milling around the entry, but soon became aware of an army of staff—at least I assumed they were staff since they looked exactly as Clay described. There were three men and four women there greeting us and offering to take our forms and `things' as soon as we entered. "Welcome to Massey Manor... we've been expecting you all and hope your journey was pleasant," said a 40-something `gentleman' stud standing before us—I guessed he was the butler. He probably had the same greeting for everyone through the door; one that made sense if you just drove for hours across the English countryside, but made little sense for our 15-minute bus ride. His impressive `otter' body was clad in nothing but a bow tie around his neck, rings in both nipples and a pair of black nylon trunks that barely contained an impressive coiled-up penis and pendulous ball-sack within. His long, black hair was pulled back and tied in a pony tail that hung half-way down his back. Tattoos—some of the first I'd seen—covered his massive shoulders and pecs. Little star shapes were tattooed around both of his pierced nipples. He continued, "I hope you will find your stay with us enjoyable; please don't hesitate to ask any one of us if there is anything you require," he said, gesturing to the other half dozen people similarly dressed. The four women ranged in age from late teens to the early 30s; all were stunning in their similar little bow ties, frilly cuffs at their wrists and see-through black teddies that hung down from their necks. The teddies, we all noticed, covered their upper chest, then gracefully draped straight down from their erect nipples, ending about their small, `innie' navels. The fringed bottom of the teddies nicely framed their exquisite asses—and shaved pussies—tightly encased in very brief, see-through bikini bottoms. Scha-wing!! It seems we all remembered our penises at about the same moment! Our boner discomfort was a source of mild amusement for the other two male staff—20-somethings sporting even heftier packages than the butler's in their very brief thongs that did little to hide their packages and, with the thin strap up their butt-cracks, didn't cover one iota of their spectacular firm bubble butts... with no tan lines, I might add. Some of the less inhibited among us—Dennis and Andy specifically—were completely nude in a flash, offering their flimsy garments to female members of the staff, who openly gazed at each of their distended boners and winked as they took the shorts and shirts from their hands. We all soon followed their lead; before long, all of us were naked, boned up and looking for the next adventure! "Aah, you're here," called FC from the stairs, "I see you've been properly greeted and are feeling comfortable enough to join us all in `the altogether' as they say." Both he and Massey stood on the curved staircase completely naked. Massey raised a glass of what looked like champagne in a mock toast while FC descended the stairs, impressive cock and balls swaying with each step. Massey was an absolute wet dream standing there with his well-muscled, `Greek-statue' body, huge throbbing erection and no tan line. A small vee of pubic hair indicated a level of genital grooming I hadn't expected of an older gentleman. Visually, it framed his thick, upstanding cock off beautifully; clearly he was circumcised—interesting for a Brit. After ogling his thick hairy chest, distended leathery nipples—they must have stuck out from his chest hair a good half inch—and fat, shaved nut-sack, I became aware that he had a beautiful, equally naked 40-something vixen standing arm-in-arm with just a small bow tie around her neck—aah, I thought, the help! Maybe she helped him shave down there, I wondered. Her blonde hair was pulled up and piled on her head and long, dangly earrings that sparkled in the light from the chandelier. Her apple-sized breasts had small-ish turned-up nipples, one of which was pierced with a gold stud. We couldn't see the other as she had that tit smashed against Massey's massive arm. Her cunt sported the same vee cut as Massey. Maybe they shave each other, I thought, causing a small lurch in my already throbbing penis. She smiled broadly and whispered something to Massey, obviously something about one or more of us that amused them both... I'm guessing it had something to do with the dozen or so instant erections on display in the foyer that couldn't wait to be used somewhere in the manor. "Please, please, don't stand on ceremony... let me show you the lounge... here, right this way." FC moved his champagne glass to his other hand cupped Clay's ass cheek, guiding him into the large room to the left of the entry. I followed closely behind and was again impressed by FC's tight ass, broad back and crisp speed-o tan lines. He was whispering something in Clay's ear that none of the rest of us could overhear, but as they whispered to each other, we had a chance to gaze into the stunning `lounge.' I was going to have to learn English, I thought—`lounge' was way more descriptive of this scene than `parlor' or `living room.' There were 20 or more people—most of them a bit older than us but just as naked as we were, scattered about the room—all holding drinks. They all looked up as FC introduced us. On closer inspection, I saw a few boys and girls our age sprinkled around the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced to the crowd, "I'm happy to introduce the first group of campers from this year's bate camp across the property... for those who haven't been here before, I wish you to know that each of these delicious boys has been vetted by our staff for their willingness and stamina as well as approved for play by their parents or guardians. I want to encourage each of you—including you young men as well," he said, turning to address us, "to enjoy your afternoon here at the mansion. We don't want anyone to go away less than fully satisfied today. Bon appetite! And with that, he gracefully moved off and wished us well; heading back into the foyer behind us. Massey and his stunning companion had come down the stairs; I noticed the beautiful naked vixen was nearly as tall as Massey—maybe it was the high heels she wore as she clicked along the tile floor as the three of them moved toward the back of the house—two manly, thick bobbing penises and three impressive sets of butt-cheeks moving in step as they walked away. I found myself wondering which orifices those beautiful penises would find themselves buried in over the next few minutes or hours. Just as they reached a door at the back, FC turned and made eye contact with Clay—who had hung back from the rest of us—and pointing to his watch, gave Clay the sign that whatever they had discussed was supposed to happen just then. Then, the three of them disappeared through the door. Clay nonchalantly sidled up beside me and whispered, "FC and Massey would like you, Dennis and Andy to join them in the `special activities' wing at the back of the house... I want you to know I'm extremely jealous; I have the burning `need to know' what happens back there; I expect a full briefing when you get back! "I don't think so," I replied, teasingly, "after all, you made me sign that paper saying I wouldn't tell!" Clay showed his chagrined face which brightened when he realized I was kidding. I hung back for a bit while Clay rounded up Dennis and Andy. While waiting, I watched as an attractive middle-aged couple approached Tristan and escorted him back to their group in the far corner of the large, open lounge. The woman took Tristan's arm and the man followed behind, openly admiring Tristan's beautiful, brown butt as he walked naked across the room. Before they got all the way there, her hand had slipped down to cup and caress one of his ass cheeks, feeling it undulate as he walked; she continued to rub it lightly as she introduced him around their equally naked group. Every person he was introduced to gave him an obvious once-over; each seemed pleased with the special `prize' their friends had selected from among us campers. The last glimpse I had of Tristan before he was swallowed up in the group of admirers was a taller man putting his arm around Tristan's shoulders, then sliding it down to the naked small of his back just north of his butt crack. Tristan glanced back over his shoulder and we made brief eye contact. The look we exchanged said it all—this was going to be one spectacular afternoon!