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by Macout Mann


The third session starts like all the others.

One new camper is Don Wimberley, a fifteen-year-old from Eastern Kentucky. He grew up on a horse farm and is an expert equestrian. He more than impresses the supervisor of the horse riding program when he goes Monday to qualify.

Hans Krueger had been a minor Olympian. He had never medaled. But he had always loved horses. Now retired, to be in charge of equestrian activities at Lookout is ideal. He gets to live at the camp year around. The six horses have to be taken care of. He was an expert in dressage, and he trains his mounts all year long. Not too many campers choose to do horseback riding, but now in Don he has an expert. His demonstration of the program for the first time will become an event with Don on the mount.

It is Wednesday evening when horseback is demonstrated. Hans tells the group, mostly ten to twelve year olds, that if they join the program they'll first learn how not to fall off a horse; but then, if they stay with it over the years, they and their mounts can not only walk...but jog...trot...canter...and yes, gallop. Don demonstrates each gait as Hans tells them about it.

"You'll not ever learn to jump at Lookout, but Don Wimberley, whose been demonstrating for us, can also show you what's that's like," Hans concludes. "I've set up a level one fence (only four feet high) and here he comes."

Don clears the fence with feet to spare. The campers are mostly very impressed.

"That was a pretty good jump," Justin Barber calls out. "I love to do that myself."

"Oh? You own a jumper?" Hans asked.

", but we're members of the Birmingham Equestrian Club. And I jump down there all the time."

Hans knows that there is no Birmingham Equestrian Club, but Don doesn't.

"Great," Don says. "Let's have a jumping contest."


Justin had been on a horse often enough that he can pass the qualifying test that Hans administers the next day. So Friday after supper the competition takes place. It is watched mostly by Cherokees and Mohicans, Justin's and Don's cabin mates. Don suggests that the fence be set at level three. Justin immediately agrees.

Don gallops to the fence and clears it easily; but when Justin approaches, his mount balks.

Justin could've easily been flung forward over the fence and seriously maimed, if not killed. Fortunately his right foot is not securely in its stirrup, so he is only thrown to the horse's left side, suffering some bad bruises.

"Damned horse didn't know what to do," he complains.

"You've got to signal what you want it to, dummy," Don chides.

You'd think that episode would make Justin more sober. But he continues to be the camp blowhard.

Eric, of course, is right about Daryl. After breakfast one day in the second week of the session, Daryl approaches him and says, "Eric, after everything I've said to the other guys, I can't come out to them. But take me out somewhere and fuck me. I can't stand it anymore."

"Don't think it's wrong anymore?" Eric leers.

"It's still wrong. But I need a dick."

"You know," Eric says, "I don't give a fuck about what may be right or wrong, and you shouldn't either."

Daryl reaches for Eric's package.

"Whoa, motherfucker. You know better than that. Not out here in the middle of everything?"

"Then take me some place," Daryl pleads.

They meander up a trail to one of the hidden spots that is safe. Immediately Daryl strips off Eric's cutoff and grabs his package. "Such a beautiful dick," he gasps. Then, "May god forgive me."

He laps up Eric's tool in an orgiastic spasm of wanton abandon. He is truly addicted to dick.

"God's the one that made you the way you are, dude," Eric sneers. "You oughta just accept yourself for what you are. You aint goanna change."

Eric had cum three times the night before, so he is able to hold out as long as he wants. He finally grabs Daryl's head and fucks the boy's face to climax.

"That ought to hold you for a while," Eric says. "We need to get back before we're missed. If you need your ass tapped, I'll take care of that later."

Daryl does need it and needs it often. Before the session is over, he stops begging for forgiveness and does accept himself for what he is. For Eric, sex with Daryl every day is a great way to end his last year as a camper.

The session progresses. It is hard to believe that school will start soon and that the camp will shut down until next summer. The last Skit Night arrives. The usual smattering of parents is present, including Justin Barber's folks.

Beginning with the ten and eleven year olds, the skits staged by most of the cabins are predictable mini-dramas that have punch lines to cap them off. It doesn't really matter that they've been seen over and over. Occasionally, there will be songs. The older boys' skits are sometimes more sophisticated. Winston has one in mind that hasn't been performed since he was twelve. To be really effective, it must be "new" to everybody in the audience.

The five fourteen-and-over cabins go in a different order each session. This time the Choctaws get to go last. When their turn comes, Winston calls Eric up and leads him to the center of the stage. "You stand here," he says. Eric happens to be the tallest boy in the group.

He continues to bring boys on stage, telling them where to stand, until twelve campers are distributed around the platform.

He then turns to the audience and says, "Now I need a volunteer." Pointing to Justin Barber, the session's biggest blowhard, he asks, "What about you? Will you volunteer?"

Justin of course agrees. Winston whispers instructions to him and takes him onstage, where he begins to run randomly in patterns among the boys standing there.

At this point Daryl, chosen because he has the highest voice of the group, calls out, "Winston, what's going on?"

"Oh, you don't know?

"This is the forest. It's Spring. And the sap is running."

Much laughter and applause to end the round of skits. Justin is not a happy camper.

Malcolm gives his farewell speech. Some campers, whose parents have come for the skits, leave with them. Eric and Daryl slip into the woods.

"This is the last time I'll ever get to fuck you," Eric says.

"There's tomorrow morning," Daryl responds.

"I'll be out on the first airport bus tomorrow morning. I'll have to make this a fuck to remember."

Eric presses his tongue into Daryl's crack and licks his hole, at the same time fondling his balls and little sausage.

"Oh, yes," Daryl whimpers.

It isn't long before Eric's prong replaces his tongue; and he begins to deliberately and repeatedly penetrate Daryl's ass, while he continues to play with the boy's package. His dick excites Daryl's prostate at the same time his hands rub his erect shaft, and Daryl shoots dollop after dollop of cream into Eric's palm at the same time that Eric assaults Daryl's colon faster and faster.

Eric licks up his companion's cum from his hand just as he fills Daryl with his own fuck juice.

"Oh god," Daryl cries, "that was something to remember."

Actually, Eric is also in the mood to be fucked himself, but that's something Daryl's not really into. Eric will have to seek relief later in Winston and Roger's room.

By Saturday night most of the campers have cleared out. All must be gone by noon Sunday. The place looks more forlorn by the hour.

Winston gets word that Malcolm and Chester want to see him at the house before he leaves. They ask him to have a seat on the living room sofa.

"We're sorry to have to tell you this, Winston," Chester begins, "but we've found your work as a senior counsellor to be unsatisfactory."

Winston doesn't know why he's been summoned, but he also knows that Chester is pulling his leg. "Well it's been fun anyway," he replies.

"Actually," Malcom says, "neither Chester nor I are getting any younger. We are thinking that by the time you finish college and become ineligible to be a counsellor, we will want to add another administrator to the staff, someone who can ultimately move into Chester's job. That will leave me free to retire and Chester free to take over.

"Would you be interested in being considered for the job? It would involve living here year round. Of course, each of us takes two weeks off each year. We keep an apartment in New Orleans to vacation in. Lots to get into down there."

"Would I!"

Chester moves over to sit next to Winston on the sofa. His hand finds its way to Winston's crotch.

"We're glad to hear that," Chester grins.


Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.

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