Date: Sun, 5 May 2002 13:05:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: 13greengrass <13greengrass@ziplip.com>
Subject: SUMMER CAMP ROMANCE

	Bruce ended up in my cabin by happenstance.  The luck of the draw.
Somewhere, in the main office of camp, the secretary or assistant director
arbitrarily assigned him, just a name, to me, just a counselor, just a cabin
number.  When I first saw him, my jaw dropped, he was so beautiful.  He had a
kittenish face with high cheekbones.  His complexion was sun-drenched dark,
contrasting with the bleached blonde hair that hung straight like strands of
silk just above his slightly angled, smiling dark eyes.  He wore an impossibly
bright orange tee shirt, and a pair of denim shorts that hung to his shins,
white socks bunched at the ankles, and new high-top sneakers, still clean and
perfect.  At first, he was just another beautiful boy at camp, really.  There
were so many that summer, as usual.  Even in my own cabin there were lovely
young things, all twelves, upon whom I cast my appreciative eyes.  At first,
nothing really distinguished Bruce from the others.  He was sitting with the
other boys, laughing and chatting while we waited to be excused from the dining
hall to go to our cabins.  He smiled easily, played with the other boys, joked,
obviously a central character already, popular and handsome.
	It was after I had led them to the cabin that I noticed something special.
Sitting on their beds, they all listened while I ran down the basic rules of the
cabin.  I caught a look from him, staring at me, suddenly soft, almost
vulnerable, strangely unsmiling yet attentive and tender.   I dismissed it as my
imagination, wishful thinking, but he seemed to be gazing at me.
	The cabin was set up as a large room, in which the bunks were arranged
against the walls.  There was a small room, the size of a large closet, in which
there was a single bed and dresser--the counselor's quarters.  I had hung a
blanket from the top of the open doorway, providing some privacy.  The boys were
not allowed inside without knocking first and receiving permission.  This I made
clear to them.
	The boys were expected down at the lake for a swim test and it afforded me
an opportunity to discreetly survey their bodies.  To me, boys are the loveliest
of all God's creations.  Even the word itself--"boy"--is my favorite in the
dictionary, loaded and endowed with all the most wonderful connotations and
images.  I always appreciated my charges from a distance, however, having to be
satisfied with fantasizing and masturbating to great elaboration on the chastely
affectionate touching and stroking that came with the job.   The boys in my
cabin were a diverse lot--tall, short, thin, chubby, pale, dark.  They were shy
around each other at first, using towels and blankets to hide their more private
parts as they changed.  That would change after living together for a day or
two.
	I spied on Bruce a beautifully toned body--slender but with small, visible
muscles, lovely-shaped legs and a well-proportioned torso.  He was sun-tanned
nearly everywhere.  It was obvious that he spent much of his time in nothing but
shorts.  I tried not to stare at his penis.  It hung like a ripe, tantalizing
fruit between his straight, sturdy legs.  It was a tad larger than most boys his
age, but by no means huge.  He was the only boy in the bunch who was not shy
about undressing in front of the others, and before long, everyone had also
abandoned their pretensions of modesty.
	When they were all suited up and preparing to leave the cabin, I took the
opportunity to touch Bruce.  I placed my hand flat on his left rib cage and ran
it down to his hip bone.  I still remember the marvelous smoothness.  Upon
contact, Bruce seemed to go into a trance, absent-mindedly gazing off into
nowhere as if concentrating on my hand.
	"Bruce, do you have a towel?" I asked.
	He didn't reply but he raised his arm slightly, as if inviting my hand to
traverse the same path again.  I accepted the invitation and he remained trance-
like.  "Bruce", I repeated.  "Do you have a towel?"
	After a few seconds, Bruce nodded, still staring off, but he didn't move.
He turned his eyes up toward me and smiled.  It was that moment, I believe, when
our relationship took the turn into something extraordinary.  There was
something in his eyes that announced this--soft and affectionate.  I thought, at
the time, that I was imagining it.  He looked as if he had a crush on me and I
stored the image away in my mind to insert into my fantasy that night.  Just a
look, but loaded with something more.
	On the way down to the beach, Bruce walked beside me, so close that his
shoulder would occasionally bump into my arm, just above the elbow.  He wore his
towel over one shoulder as he chatted to the other boys.  He gave me sly, side-
long glances from time to time, asking questions about the beach and camp and
the swim test.
	He did pretty well on his swim test but not well enough to gain the
privilege of swimming through the deep part of the lake to a couple of rafts
that floated there.  He didn't seem too concerned about it.  As he emerged from
the water, brown body glistening wet, dripping and shivering, hair pushed back
away from his face, I grabbed his towel and held it open for him.  Teeth
chattering, he stepped close to me and I draped the towel around his shoulders.
He leaned into me slightly and I enveloped him in my arms, suddenly searching
for something to say to make it all seem casual.
	"How's the water?" I asked.
	He shrugged as if he were thinking about something else, perhaps my arms
around him and the warmth of my body.  My imagination was running away with me,
I thought, but Bruce snuggled in closer, still shivering, and we stood like that
for awhile, watching the swimmers, talking to cabinmates returning from their
tests.  I was already wild for Bruce.  Standing with my arms around him made my
whole body buzz with excitement but I was certain that he didn't know as he
stood dripping.
	On the first day of every camp session, there is an opening campfire.  The
fire pit was located at the bottom of a small hill, lined with benches and logs
for sitting.  Bruce had been my shadow all day, always next to me, leaning
against me, even putting his arms around me.  At the fire circle, he sat on my
lap and I became immediately aware of how it might look to my co-workers.
	"Sit beside me, not on me," I said reluctantly.
	Bruce looked slightly disappointed and he sidled up next to me, our hips
touching.  He appeared to be a bit embarrassed.  I spoke up quickly, lowering my
mouth to his ear, my lips touching it slightly.
	"I'd love to have you on my lap," I whispered. "But then I'll have
everyone bidding for a turn."
	He smiled suddenly, looking up at me and nodding and shrugging at the same
time as if telling me that he understood.  I pulled him to me with my arm around
his shoulder and he melted into me, resting his head against my shoulder.  We
sat there in the darkness of dusk, the glow of the campfire on our faces.  At
one point, he put his hand on my knee, stroking it thoughtfully, his eyes again
trance-like.  It made me shiver.
	After the campfire, I took my boys back to the cabin.  As they made up
their beds and played and chattered, I lay on my bunk reading, relaxing, the
blanket pulled up so as not to appear unavailable on the first night.  It was
always the first night when the troubles seemed to float to the top.  In the
comforting warmth of the sun, the campers were usually pretty happy, but at
bedtime, homesickness, fear of the dark, and problems between the boys tended to
arise.   I had a pretty relaxed crew.  They all seemed to be getting along well-
-bragging and boasting and telling stories and jokes as they changed for bed.  I
was happy to have the quiet.
	I heard a soft knock on the frame of my door and looked up to see Bruce
standing there.  He was dressed in a large white tee shirt which hung to mid-
thigh, his legs bare beneath.  I gasped slightly to see him.  It was as if he
had stepped straight from one of my fantasies.  He looked apprehensive, slightly
embarrassed and shy.
	"Come in," I choked.
	He walked in and directly to my bed, sitting down beside me.  He fumbled
with his fingers in his lap, swinging one foot nervously, looking down at his
hands, biting his lip.
	"I'm kinda....," he started, but his voice trailed off.  He took a deep
breath but didn't speak.
	"Homesick?" I offered.
	He snorted, a small laugh, and shook his head.
	"What's so funny?" I asked.  "It's pretty common to be homesick on your
first night."
	"I'd never be homesick," he said flatly.  It was loaded with implication.
He didn't have the kind of home life that he would miss.  I touched him on the
back, rubbing it softly.
	"What then?"
	He smiled and blushed.  "I'm kinda...scared of the dark."
	I shrugged.  "That's common too,"  I said.  "Do you have a flashlight?"
	He shook his head.
	"You can borrow mine if you'd like," I said.  "You can sleep with it on."
	Bruce swallowed hard, glanced at me, then looked back at his hands.
	"I was thinkin'...maybe....um...."  He was building toward something but
he wasn't getting there easily.  He chuckled and blushed more deeply.  "I was
thinkin' I could....sleep...here."  He pointed to my bed but didn't look at me.
There was something in the way he was asking.  When a kid is scared and wanting
to sleep with me, they always sound innocent enough when they ask.  They're more
scared of not getting what they feel they need or being rebuked for being
scared.  Bruce sounded different--as if he were suggesting something more than
sleeping.  It was something in the way he didn't look at me, the tone of his
voice, the tiny smile that formed on his pouty lips.  I was convinced that my
imagination was running rampant.  The thought of laying close to this wonderful
boy was intoxicating.
	I pretended to think about it, then finally said, "Try it in your bed
first.  If you need to come in here, then you can, but if the other boys see you
coming in here, then I'll be sleeping with a different one every night."  I
found it hilarious that I would be pretending to complain about such a thing.
Bruce nodded.  I knew that he would sleep with me that night and so did he.  We
had simply established a protocol, a procedure which we had agreed to observe.
	I always play guitar for my kids at bedtime.  It is a wonderful way of
calming them and comforting them.  The sound of the strings and the softness of
my voice lull them to sleep.  I am the only counselor who does this and,
consequently, my campers are usually asleep early on, long before other cabins.
I sat on Jeffrey's bed, a rail-thin boy with large, brown eyes who looked a bit
like he was homesick, although he didn't talk about it.  He seemed comforted by
my presence and laid his head near my knee as he drifted off to sleep.  Bruce
watched me from his bed, resting on his elbow.  I could see his silhouette in
the near dark.
	"Bruce, lie down," I said.  I had asked them all to lie quietly in their
beds so they could fall asleep.  Bruce laid down, but moments later, he was up
again, watching me.  I asked him to lie down again but it only lasted for a
moment.  He was trying to keep himself awake.
	Soon the cabin was silent except for the soft breathing of sleeping boys.
Bruce was still resting on his elbow.  I stood and carried my guitar toward my
room.
"Lay down," I instructed again.  "Try to sleep."
	"I can't," he replied, but clearly he hadn't tried.
	"Scared?"
	He quickly shook his head, then just as quickly nodded, as if remembering
his plan.  I smirked in the darkness.
	"Can I come to your bed?" he asked.  His voice sounded like it flowed from
an X-rated movie, it was so suggestive and my mind was going crazy with
anticipation.  Again, I pretended to think about it.
	"Sure", I finally said.
	Bruce practically leapt from his bed and hurried into my room.  I went
into the adjoining bathroom and peed and brushed my teeth.  When I came into my
room, the blanket had been drawn from the door and inside, lying in my bed in
the dark, was Bruce, shining my flashlight up at the ceiling.  So much for being
afraid of the dark.  I stepped inside and began to undress.  I was very aware of
Bruce watching me.  I always slept in a pair of boxers and a tank tee shirt, and
as I removed my clothes, Bruce would "accidentally" let the flashlight shine on
me.  He kept the light near me so as to illuminate my body.  When I was finally
ready, I pulled the covers back and climbed in.  At first we lay next to each
other, shoulder to shoulder, the flashlight shining at the ceiling again.
	"Turn off the light," I whispered.
	He clicked it off and handed it to me.  I put it aside and lay back. It
was quiet and almost completely dark.  A single light shone from outside,
casting a few splashes of light into the room.  The bed was small and I was
thinking about what a horrible night sleep I was about to have, all for the sake
of lying next to this boy, when he turned and embraced me, his small arm over my
torso, his leg over me, his head looking to nestle into the nook of my arm.  I
raised my arm and put it around him, pulling him deliciously into me.  He
melted.  He fit so perfectly there against me.  I buried my nose in his hair and
took a deep breath.
	"Still scared?"  I asked.
	"No," he said softly, without hesitation.  I felt his fingers on my rib
cage, stroking slightly, exploring each rib.
	"Good," I said.  "Goodnight."
	"Goodnight", he murmured.
	He had had a big day, full of new experiences and stress and I wondered if
he would keep me awake with nervous chatter, but he fell asleep soon after, too
tired to keep himself awake any longer.  I had a horrible time getting to sleep,
but it was heavenly to hold Bruce so close, so intimately.

	I awoke in pretty nearly the same position.  My radio alarm clock was
playing a love song and I hummed along as I looked into the sleeping face of
Bruce.  He was beautiful when he slept, long eyelashes and hair askew.  I
carefully climbed from bed and Bruce stirred and rolled over, tumbling back into
deep sleep.  I always got up earlier than most so I could shower and be ready to
start the day by the time I had to wake the boys.  When I returned from my
shower, all the boys were still asleep except for Bruce, who was lying in my bed
rubbing his eyes and stretching luxuriously.  I could see for the first time
that under that big tee shirt he wore only a pair of briefs, which was now
swollen with a morning erection.  He seemed oblivious to my eyes there.
	"Where'd you go?" he asked.
	It was obvious where I'd gone as my hair was wet and my towel was around
my neck, but that isn't what the question meant.  It seemed to mean "why did you
leave without me?"
	"Had a shower," I said.
	He blinked and rolled over onto his side.  I could see that he was staring
at my chest.  "You're hairy," he said.  He sounded fascinated.
	"Yes."
	"Tomorrow, can you wake me up when you go take your shower?"
	"Why?" I asked, wondering if he was going to say what I thought he would
say.  He did.
	"So I can shower too."
	"You can shower with the others," I said dutifully.
	"No," he pouted.  He paused thoughtfully, then looked up at me.  "I'm too
shy."
	I realized that he was attempting to work me.  I smiled, happy with him.
"You weren't shy yesterday when you changed into your swim trunks."
	He smirked slightly, searching for a response. "Well.....um...that was
just changing my clothes.  I'm only shy in the shower."
	What a lame excuse, I thought, but so marvelous in its intention.  I sat
on the bed to pull on my socks and he curled around to place his head on my leg.
	"Pleeeease," he said in a high, soft voice, smiling broadly.
	I smiled back at him.  I'm sure it looked like a yes (because it was), but
I said:  "We'll see."
	All through the day, Bruce and I were inseparable.  He was hugely popular
with the other boys and if one of them sassed me or gave me a hard time, Bruce
was quick to support me, coaxing the cabinmate into agreement.  They all
followed him.  My job was never easier.  Meanwhile, Bruce and I continued our
intimacy, touching each other so much that it nearly became second nature.  He
would hold my hand or hang on my arm when we walked around camp.  He always sat
next to me, leaned into me, jumped on my back.  On the beach, he initiated a
wrestling game with me, laughing as I tossed him softly on the sand.  The other
boys joined in and pretty soon I was buried beneath all eight boys, in nothing
but wet swim trunks, laughing and shouting.
	Bruce and I had many conversations as well.  When I asked him about his
home life, he shrugged and looked a little sad.
	"My mom works all the time," he said.  "I hardly ever see her."
	"And your dad?" I asked gently, knowing that I was treading into a
potentially sensitive area.
	"He's in the army," the boy said.  "He's a captain."
	I concluded to myself that he wasn't telling the truth about his father,
but I didn't push it.  "So are you happy to be at camp?"  I asked.
	He shrugged.  "I wasn't at first," he replied.  He snaked his arm around
mine and smiled up at me.  "But now I am."
	This boy was working me completely and I was a willing victim.  He had me
entranced.  I tousled his hair and pulled him closer.
	That night, as bedtime rolled around, Bruce asked me again if he could
sleep with me.  I told him that he had to start in his bed and then, if he
needed to, he could come to mine.  He agreed easily and settled into his own bed
while I played guitar.  He lay flat the whole time and I found myself hoping
that he wasn't falling asleep--that he would find his way to my bed.  I chided
myself for this.  After the little sleep I had received the night before,
crowded in my bed, I would need the sleep tonight.  It would probably be all for
the best if I slept alone.  After the last song, the cabin was silent.  I stood
up and put my guitar away and headed for the bathroom, slightly disappointed
that Bruce appeared to be sleeping.  As I brushed my teeth and peed, I told
myself that it was best that Bruce and I not sleep together.  It was safer and
only natural that he would become more comfortable sleeping alone, etcetera,
etcetera.  It was all babble and I knew it deep down.  I wanted to sleep but I
wanted more to sleep with Bruce.
	On my way toward my room, I noticed Bruce's bed was empty and my heart
rose with hopefulness.  I pulled aside the blanket and stepped inside.  There he
was, flashlight in hand, making shadow figures on the ceiling with an
outstretched hand, wide awake and smiling.
	The nights tended to be a bit chilly, even in the summer, but this night
was unusually warm.  I was tired from lack of sleep and the activity of the day.
As I got undressed, Bruce shone the flashlight on my bare chest.
	"It's hot tonight," he said.
	"Sure is."
	"If I were you," he went on. "I'd sleep without my shirt on."
	Not all that subtle, but I loved the direction he was taking things.  "Oh,
really?"  I asked.  "I noticed you still have your tee shirt on."
	He sat up and shrugged, smiling as if he were trying to hide it.  "I'll
take it off then," he said, and he pulled the shirt up over his head.  I was
looking at him, sitting there in nothing but a pair of briefs, and feeling as if
I had inadvertently entered an agreement with him:  I would sleep without a
shirt if he would.  Again, I liked the direction he was going and it was a hot
night and it would be even hotter with two warm bodies in bed, etcetera,
etcetera, etcetera.
	So I climbed into bed with nothing but my boxers.  We immediately jockeyed
into our position, him nestled into the nook of my arm, leg over me.  The
sensation of our skin together was blissful.  He immediately ran his small
fingers through the hair on my chest as if he couldn't wait to touch it.
	"Why do you have so much hair?" he asked.
	I shrugged, not really having an answer. "Some people are hairy."
	"I hope I have hair like this when I get older," he said softly, a finger
lingering on my nipple.  I was tremendously happy, but hopelessly tired.  He
wanted to talk more but I interrupted him.
	"I'm too sleepy to talk tonight," I said.  "Goodnight."
	"G'night," said he, and we sank into a contented silence.
	Despite how exhausted I was, I couldn't sleep.  I lay with my eyes closed,
quite relaxed, but all I could think about was this nearly naked boy cuddled
against me, his warm breath on my neck, the smell of his hair in my nose.  My
hand was resting on his hip, on the elastic of his briefs.  His leg was resting
on my erection and I was aware of his own, poking me in the hip.  My head was
swimming with pleasure.  I didn't care if ever slept again.
	"Are you awake?" he whispered suddenly.
	"Hmmm?" I murmured.
	"Nothin'."
	We lay that way a while longer.  He thrust his hips forward, slowly and
subtly, pressing his boner into my hip.  I lay motionless, drifting between
bliss and sleep.  After a while, his voice came softly again.  "Are you awake?"
	"Yeah, why?" I asked.  If he did this all night, the answer would always
be "yes".
	"Nothin'," he replied.  I was beginning to wonder why he was asking.  His
hips were slowly grinding his little cock against me.  The thrusts were so
subtle that, had I been thinking about anything else, I may not have noticed.
His fingers found the hair in my armpit and he fingered it like a flower.
	"Are you awake?" he asked after another interval of silence.  This time, I
didn't answer, wanting to know why he was asking.  Was he afraid to be left
alone, awake in the dark?  The silence lingered pregnantly.  He raised his head
from my shoulder.
	"Are you awake?" he asked again, looking into my face in the dim light.
	I lay silent, eyes closed, unanswering.  He put a hand on my chest and
shook it gently.  "Stefan, are you awake?" he asked again.
	I was so sleepy that it wasn't hard to pretend that I was out cold.  I was
curious about what he would do next.  I felt him shift positions next to me,
then felt his hand go down beneath the sheet, lightly skimming down my torso.
He rested his hand on my lower abdomen and I felt butterflies beneath his hand.
Was he really going to go lower?  After a few moments, his hand inched southward
and came to rest on the waistband of my boxers.  My erection was straining
against my shorts.  After a few moments passed, he lifted his hand and I felt it
searching, prodding, until it found my cock.  He touched it tentatively at
first, then took a firm but gentle hold on it through the fabric.  I think I
must have made a small noise because he almost immediately let go of it and
seemed to wait quietly.  I remained silent and still and he went back to
touching me.  He pulled the sheet down and began to inch his fingers under the
waistband, slowly, until his hand found the head of my cock.  The contact was
exhilarating and I nearly stopped breathing.  His small fingers took hold of my
shaft and squeezed it tenderly.  I could hear him breathing, suddenly more
heavily.  My cock had never been harder, sizzling with electricity from his
talented fingers.  I straightened my legs reflexively and he stopped suddenly,
thinking I was awakening.  I lay still again, hoping he would continue.  After a
moment or two, he resumed his exploration, stroking, outlining my dick with his
soft fingers.  He lay his head down on my belly and continued to pull on my cock
and I began to feel my orgasm approaching.  I was amazed at how quickly it was
approaching.  My excitement was buzzing in my ears.  My breathing quickened and
I moaned.  He didn't stop now and before I knew it, I was spurting sperm onto my
belly, panting and gasping, grunting.
	At the first explosion, Bruce had let go of my cock, leaving me to spurt
and drain myself.  He must've thought that he broke something because he threw
himself down on his pillow and went into an immediate pretend sleep.  I reached
down and milked the last drops out and sat up.  I wiped my cock and belly off
with a bandanna and lay back down wordlessly.  Bruce lay silent next to me.  I
lay down and before long, drifted off to sleep for real.

	I awoke to Bruce clinging to me like I was a large teddy bear.  His breath
whispered through the hair on my chest.  I spoke his name softly and touched his
shoulder, stirring him.  He opened his eyes slowly and looked at me.  He looked
like a baby stirring.
	"Want a shower?" I asked.
	 He nodded.  At first, he seemed to have forgotten the incident the
previous night.  He stretched, all arms and legs, twisting on the bed, his elbow
in my face.  He yawned.  Then I think he remembered because he looked up at my
face very suddenly with an expression of concern.  I played ignorant.
	"Good morning!"  I said brightly, running my finger down his jawline.  He
looked uncertain at first, watching me get out of bed and pulling my towel
around my neck.  "How'd ya sleep?"
	"Good".  He answered as if he were trying to be neutral, trying to figure
out what I remembered and how I felt about it.  I had decided that I would not
mention it to him but would be sure to express nothing but positive feelings
toward him.  It wasn't hard because I was already growing increasingly fond of
him.
	We showered together.  He was quiet but attentive as the water cascaded
over our bodies.  He had chosen the shower nozzle next to mine and I caught him
staring at my cock several times as if he expected it to explode again at any
moment.  I nonchalantly washed myself and, to be honest, watched deliriously as
the soapy water rolled down his beautiful chest, down over his belly and thighs,
and down those glorious, straight legs.  We were eyeing each other but saying
nothing of it, acting as if we weren't.  I put shampoo on his head and washed
his hair as he stood covering his face to keep the shampoo from his eyes.  He
seemed unable to resist peeking from beneath his hands at my cock, which wobbled
and dangled inches from him as I lathered his hair.  He watched it so avidly
that he forgot about the soap suds and he got some in his eye.  He grimaced and
cursed in pain and I lovingly rinsed the soap suds from his upturned face.
	Throughout the day, Bruce was back to normal, teasing and laughing and
joking, ever the popular leader.  I watched him play soccer, shirtless with
white shorts, running backwards down the field, eyes focused on the ball.  He
moved like a graceful cat, lithe and agile, sweat pasting his hair against his
forehead, glistening on his chest and back.  I watched him swim and jump off the
dock (which wasn't allowed) and romp and play in the water.  He dunked other
boys and came up laughing when others dunked him.  I was falling in love with
him.  I avidly watched him, adoringly.
	Interestingly, I was noticing how often he was watching me.  Many times
while I was staring at him from afar, he would look at me, as if I had called to
him, and our eyes would meet and we would smile.  Quite often, when this
happened, he would get so embarrassed and nervous that he would seem to explode
with energy, showing off in the water or on the monkey bars or playing
basketball.  He loved my gaze and I loved to watch him. Many times, I would
catch him staring at me, watching me talk to other counselors, playing catch
with the football, or dealing with my campers, his cabinmates.
	At dinner, we filed into the dining room.  Bruce had asked if he could use
the bathroom moments before the dinner bell rang and came in later.  As he
approached the table, his mouth fell open for a moment and he paused in his
stride.  The place on either side of me was taken by other campers.  He had sat
next to me at every single meal, following at my side, nearly pushing other
campers out of the way to grab the spot next to me.  He looked immediately angry
but by the time he reached the table, he looked only disappointed.  He
reluctantly took a seat across from me.  I too felt the loss.  I wanted him next
to me but I couldn't push my other campers away.  There was an uneasy silence at
the table.  Only Bruce and I knew why and we couldn't really acknowledge it even
to each other.
	After some time passed, Bruce stood up and walked around the table to
whisper something into the ear of Michael, the boy beside me.  I couldn't hear
what he was saying, couldn't even imagine what it might be, but moments later,
Michael nodded with a bright look on his face and stood up, giving Bruce his
seat.  I looked at Bruce questioningly but he only smiled and someone began
talking to me before I had a chance to ask.  Bruce slid close to me on the
bench, comfortable and happy again, and I put my arm around his shoulders to let
him know the feeling was mutual.
	Later, when dessert was served, Bruce slid his shortcake over to Michael
with a knowing smile and Michael took it expectantly.  That had been the trade,
I realized, and I loved Bruce all the more, sacrificing his dessert for me.  He
looked at me and smiled broadly and I pushed my dessert to a spot on the table
between us and invited him to share.  He was so lovely and sweet and I couldn't
wait to hold him in my arms that night.
	He was in my bed again when I returned from the bathroom.  I was concerned
that he wouldn't after what had happened the night before, but he was there,
smiling in his big tee shirt and briefs, arms folded behind his head and the
flashlight stuck in his mouth, making his cheeks look like a luminescent
pumpkin.  I was so happy to see him there.
	Sliding into bed beside him, I took him into my arms, affectionately,
tenderly.  He surrendered, giggling when I tickled his ribs, wrapping his arms
around my neck without thinking, as if we were lovers.  I let myself kiss him on
the forehead.  It surprised me.  I hadn't planned to do it.  It just came out.
I looked at his face in the dark.  He had noticed, but he was just smiling as if
it was all right.  After some small talk, we settled in to sleep.
	I was thinking about the night before as we lay there.  I could easily
recall his fingers on my cock and the warm, tender way he brought me to orgasm.
It made me enormously horny.  I wished he would do it again.  Bruce had rolled
over onto his belly beside me and seemed to be sleeping.  His breathing was slow
and steady and deep.  I rolled on my side and stroked his back gently, just
wanting to touch him.  I thought about all the problems of falling in love with
Bruce, but I could sense that it was well beyond my control.  I thought about
dinner and his loving gesture and thought that soon, we would be able to talk
about our feelings for each other.  He was twelve and I wanted him to broach the
subject when he felt ready, yet I was dying to know how he felt.
	My hand strayed down his back and up under the tee shirt, traveling over
the smooth skin of his back, between his shoulder blades and over his shoulders.
I could see his bright white briefs in the dim light--the narrow hips, the
shapely legs.  I let my hand wander down his back and onto his bottom and the
soft, cotton underwear.  He lay still beneath my ministrations.  If he were
awake, he wasn't complaining.  I decided that it wouldn't be right to fondle
him, even after last night, but I just couldn't resist.  His stunning body lay
so close.  I chastised myself for my lack of self-control.  Then I eased my hand
down under the elastic waistband and over his wonderful ass.  It was soft and
firm and I felt the blood in my cock throb.  I nuzzled his neck with my nose as
I massaged his butt, pulling down the briefs, running a finger between the
cheeks, down, down, and down between his legs.  I was starting to feel guilty
for taking advantage of him while he was asleep when I felt his legs part
slightly to allow my finger access.  I proceeded on my journey until I found his
anus.  I spread his cheeks a bit and he spread his legs a bit more.  This subtle
cooperation enflamed me.  I was delirious with the notion that he was awake and
enjoying this.  I pushed his underwear down further and rolled him onto his
side.  He appeared to be sleeping, but I would have been surprised if he was.  I
felt the front of his underpants and found his cock very stiff, even throbbing.
I fingered it through the cloth, then carefully pulled the briefs down, taking
care to pull them out and down over his stiff little cock.  I pushed them down
his thighs and ran my hand over his naked ass and rubbed his hard prick.  I took
it between my fingers and pulled on it gently, then played with his little nuts.
I pulled my own raging cock from my boxers and pressed it against him, nestling
it between his ass cheeks.  He was so soft against my dick that I felt my juices
already rising and I began to pant.  I stuffed my fingers down between his legs,
searching again for his anus.  He spread his legs against the constraints of his
underpants so that I could more easily get to his hole.  I touched it and
fingered it softly, then wet my finger on my tongue and proceeded to apply the
spittle to his rectum.  As soon as my slippery finger spread the saliva on his
hole, I heard him groan low in his throat.  I massaged it with my fingertip and
he spread his legs even more, obviously awake now but saying nothing.  He was
breathing heavily as I began to hump his ass and finger his asshole.  His
obvious pleasure was overwhelming to me and my orgasm came speeding on like a
freight train.  Just as I shot my come all over his ass, I inserted the tip of
my finger into his anus, and he gasped, then purred and relaxed.  It was enough
to drain me, and rope after rope of sperm coated his buttocks.
	Immediately afterwards, I felt guilty, but he was back to pretending he
was asleep, and he lay still as I wiped the sperm from him and lovingly pulled
his underwear back up.  His cock was still hard.  I lay down beside him and
kissed him several times on the shoulder and neck, then cuddled in beside him to
go to sleep.

	I didn't know what to expect from him on the following morning.  I was
quite sure that he hadn't been asleep, but twelve year-olds can sleep through
anything and I knew that he may well have slept through the entire experience.
During our shower, he was his usual cheerful, light-hearted self, joking and
smiling and staring at my cock while I washed his hair.  He got soap in his eyes
again for the trouble, and I gently wiped it away.
	It was my day off.  I had told my campers that I had the next day off, but
it wasn't until the relief counselor arrived to take over that the reality sank
in.  Bruce was suddenly sad and upset.  His smile faded and he stared at me as
if I were walking off to be executed.  While I had a full twenty-four hours off,
from eight o'clock in the morning 'til eight the following morning, I would
nonetheless sleep in my bed that night since it would be harder to sleep
elsewhere and be back to work so early.  Besides, I wanted to be with Bruce more
than anything else.
	"I'll be back tonight," I told him.  "I might be late but I'll be here."
	He looked relieved to hear that I would be back to sleep with him but he
didn't look too happy about being without me for the entire day.  It was
touching.  It was also how I felt.  I would rather spend my day off watching
Bruce.
	"Do you have to go?" he asked.
	"I need some time to rest," I said.  "I wouldn't need to go if everyone
here was as wonderful as you."
	He flashed me one of his infectious smiles and he gave me a bear hug and
said that he would miss me.  He looked as if he had a stiff upper lip, deciding
to just make the best of it, comforted by the thought of seeing me tonight.  I
found myself feeling jealous of the relief counselor--jealous that he would be
spending time with my Bruce.  I secretly hoped that Bruce wouldn't like him.
	I spent my day off with two other counselors.  We drove to a nearby town
and wandered about, played some miniature golf, shopped, caught a movie, then
went bar hopping.  I thought about Bruce the entire time and ached under the
pressure to contain my thoughts.  I checked my clock numerous times in the day
and tried to imagine what he was doing--eating lunch, resting at rest period,
swimming....I was secretly miserable.  On my third Vodka Collins, I suggested to
my companions that we head back to camp early.  They looked at me like I was
crazy.  It was only nine thirty.  One joint and two drinks later, I made the
suggestion again.  Ten thirty was too early, they insisted, and all I could
think of was Bruce, lying in my bed, waiting for me to return.  Finally,
claiming that I was feeling sick, I convinced them to drop me off at camp so
they could go out for further fun.  I was quite stoned by now and stumbling
through the dark toward my cabin.  I walked in the door at 11:15 to
find Bruce snoring softly, sprawled in my bed, tee shirt splayed above his
delicious legs, white briefs nearly glowing in the dark.  I was so happy to see
him, and so stoned, that I knelt beside the bed and kissed him softly on the
cheek a few times.
	I exited my clothes with desperate speed.  I should have known when I
climbed into bed beside Bruce that I was way too fucked up to have good judgment
and show some restraint.  Perhaps it's why I climbed in so quickly.  I was
obsessively horny having thought about him all day long and I leaned over and
buried my nose in the nape of his neck.  He smelled honey sweet and I sighed as
if in relief.  As soon as I touched him, I burst like a dam.
	I lifted his big shirt a bit higher, revealing his bare back in the pale
moonlight.  He breathed steadily and deeply, still lost in sleep.  I kissed my
way down his back and toyed with the waistband of his underwear, sticking a
finger in and running it along the elastic.  I greedily breathed in the smell of
him.  Slowly, I pulled the underwear down over his buttocks, revealing his
slender, well-muscled ass.  I kissed each cheek.  I reached under him and probed
for his cock.  It was soft and tucked away beneath his cotton briefs.  They were
easy to drag down his thighs, down to his knees and beyond, over strong calves
and his arched feet.  He was naked under my gaze, under my roving fingers, which
played up and down him, over his back and hips, down his soft thighs.  I was
pretty sure he was still asleep. His breathing hadn't changed--slow, deep, and
steady.
	I knelt on the bed and walked down his body with my lips, tongue dragging
over his young, supple, unbelievably soft flesh.  I kissed and licked him down
over his back and to the top of the crack of his ass.  I let my mouth follow the
crevice, spreading his ass cheeks with my hands, squeezing and stroking them,
revealing the small hole to my searching tongue.  He was remarkably clean for
having run in the sun all day.  My tongue darted over his anus, then probed
deeper, actually penetrating the lovely lips of his hole.  The first time I
pushed, my tongue slid right in, he was so relaxed and asleep.  But I withdrew,
and when I pushed back in, the anus suddenly clamped down on my tongue and I
felt and heard Bruce's breathing stop.  I kept my tongue just inside him, moving
it nearly imperceptibly, and listened for the slumbering rhythmic breathing to
resume, but it didn't.  I wondered if he was awake.  I was too drunk and horny
to be afraid.  I massaged his ass a bit and wriggled my tongue a little. He was
resistant but not protesting.  His breathing was short and irregular, as if he
were awake and listening for something he thought he heard.  I ran my hands down
his legs then back up to his hips, pushing up to raise his ass, nudging his legs
apart.  He allowed me to do this.  He stayed in that position, affording me easy
access to his hole.  With his hips raised, I could reach beneath him and tug
gingerly on his ball sac, then reach up and fondle his cock.  I was thrilled to
find that he was erect.  He grunted when I touched it.  I pushed with my tongue
and it squeezed its way inside him, slowly and languidly, penetrating him.  I
heard him take a quick, deep breath, then groan.  I pumped my tongue in and out
of him, grinding my face between his cheeks.  His back was arched against the
bed, ass pushed up.  I laved his crack and hole, making wide sweeps with my flat
tongue that stroked him from scrotum to tailbone.  He moaned and I knew without
a doubt that he was awake.  The bed creaked beneath us
	I stuck a finger into my mouth quickly and tickled the bud.  He squirmed
under my probing, wriggling his hips as if inviting my finger.  He suddenly
thrust his ass toward me and I pushed my finger inside.  He gasped, then let out
his breath in a long sigh.  I probed deeper and was surprised to feel my finger
being pulled inside, down to my second knuckle, and with a gentle push, beyond.
My entire finger was inside him and when I wiggled it, Bruce groaned deep in his
throat, almost like a purr.  I finger fucked him slowly with one finger as I
pulled down and wriggled out of my boxers with my other hand.  I wanted to fuck
him, but that would be too much, too far to take him without his clear consent.
I returned to finger fucking him, slowly inserting a second finger, in and out.
Bruce seemed to find the second finger to be uncomfortable, for his groan became
clearly that of pain, and I had to proceed very slowly before they were slipping
in and out without serious resistance.  I reached down with my other hand to his
prick.  It was harder than ever, pressing into the sheet of the bed, a dab of
moisture on the tip.  He whimpered when I touched it and bucked his hips wildly,
pressing his cock into my hand.  I thought I was going to shoot my load without
touching myself.  My whole cock seemed to be taking a deep breath, preparing to
spew.  I thought I heard Bruce say something, through gritted teeth, but I
wasn't sure.  He heaved on the bed, his legs stiffened on either side of me, and
his penis spat out a small dab of wetness as it throbbed madly against my palm.
My fingers continued to fuck him meanwhile, slipping in the saliva lubrication.
His whole ass was wet with my spit.
	He lay spent on the bed and I held my fingers there.  From time to time, I
felt his sphincter squeeze my fingers.  His cock remained hard.
	I slowly withdrew my fingers.  I couldn't wait another moment.  My prick
was buzzing with anticipation.  I spat in my hand and rubbed my cock hastily.
The touch alone almost sent me over the edge.  I pressed my rampant cock into
the crevice of his ass and humped him, slipping across the silken skin, pressing
my pelvis into his hips, grinding.  He pushed back and I grabbed his half-hard
dick in my hand, tugging it tenderly.  He hissed through his teeth and I felt my
dick pulsing against him, then exploding, warm cum spurting onto his back and
buttocks.  I grunted and groaned, far too loudly to be safe.  My orgasm seemed
to last forever.
	I collapsed beside him.  I felt immediately guilty and I lay there
panting, catching my breath.  Bruce remained still, faking sleep.  I felt
remarkably sleepy.  I wiped the sperm from Bruce's back and ass with a swipe
from the tee shirt I had removed.  I dropped it somewhere.  My head began to
wander and I heard myself whispering, "I'm sorry" as I kissed Bruce's shoulder.
"I'm sorry."
	Bruce rolled over to face me, his eyes still closed in pretend sleep, and
he snaked his arms around my neck, snuggling his head under my chin, sinking his
naked body against mine.  I had a vague thought that I should dress us before I
passed out, but then I passed out.
	Later, I awoke, mouth dry, head still buzzing.  It was still dark.  My
clock read 3:17.  I looked down at me and Bruce in the distant light.  Our naked
bodies shone in the white light, the elegant curve to Bruce's hip, the rise and
fall of his chest.  I forced myself to get up and slip his underwear back up his
legs and into place.  I pulled the big tee shirt down and pulled a blanket over
him.  He looked so young, like a baby asleep, long curly lashes on his cheek.  I
got dressed and settled in beside him, pulling him to me.  My head hurt a bit,
but I was happy.

	I didn't really worry about Bruce's reaction until morning, when we both
awoke at the same time, eyes bleary and bodies stretching.  I wondered if he
would be mad or uncomfortable.  I wondered if I had crossed the line with him.
He sat up and climbed on top of me, smiling already, straddling my chest.
	"You're back," he grinned.  "How was it?"
	"How was what?"  I thought he was asking about the sex.
	"Your day off."  He climbed off of me and out of bed, reaching up to pull
his towel down from the nail on the wall.
	"It was okay."
	He stood watching me impatiently, wanting me to hurry up, get out of bed,
get to the shower.  I was distracted, trying to read his mind.  He cocked his
head and rolled his eyes.
	"C'mon," he said.
	I leapt out of bed.  My cock was jutting out in my boxers but I made no
attempt to cover it.  It seemed incongruous after the previous night.  Bruce
definitely noticed.  He looked down at it and smirked, then acted as if it
wasn't there, straining, pointing toward him.  He looked up at me with a knowing
smile and I followed him to the shower.
	I didn't think I could last long not saying something about what had
happened, especially when I was so sure that he had been awake.  He had seemed
to enjoy it but I worried about upsetting our friendship and the chemistry we
had.  As we stepped under the water, I stroked his shoulder carefully, and when
he looked at me, I asked, "Are we okay?"
	He shrugged as if we were, of course, but my concerned eyes held him,
probing uncertainly, worried.  He threw his arms around me, pressing my flaccid
cock against his sternum.  The water cascaded over us as we looked into each
other's eyes.  He was radiant.
	"We're okay."  The familiarity with which he touched me, naked and honest,
reassured me.  He knew what I was asking, and he was genuinely fine.  I felt
myself breathe in relief.  We parted, wanting to be careful in this less-than-
private place, and continued with our showers.
	Bruce and I didn't talk about what happened until much later in the day.
We were at swimming and Bruce had opted to not swim.  He sat on a bench on the
beach with his towel over his shoulders.  I thought this odd since I knew how
much he loved to swim.  The swimming instructor motioned him to come into the
water and Bruce held up his index finger.
	"Maybe in a bit," he called back.
	I was immediately worried.  I had been miserably waiting to see some sort
of fallout from what had happened, some sort of delayed reaction from him.  Was
he ill?  Upset?  Traumatized?  I sat next to him on the bench, looking out at
the swimmers but talking to him.
	"You okay?" I asked.  My throat was drying out on me I was so anxious.
	Bruce nodded.  "Yeah."
	"Listen, Bruce," I started.  It was obvious what I was going to talk about
and his face grew very serious.  "Are you okay about what happened last night?"
	Bruce looked thoughtful, then shrugged, then smiled.  "I'm cool," he said.
"Why?"
	"Well....it's just that....."  I didn't know where to go next.  "I
mean...I just..."
	"You didn't like it?" he asked.
	I was certain that I had misheard him.  "Me?"
	He nodded.  "I didn't really know what to do so I just...."--he lowered
his voice to a barely audible whisper.--"I just laid there."
	"I was really drunk," I said.  "I shouldn't have done that.  I'm sorry."
I was making myself miserable and my voice trembled.  Bruce looked utterly
confused.
	"Sorry for what?"
	"For....ya know....taking advantage of you like that...."
	"....You didn't."
	"No, I did," I insisted.  "You were sleeping and I shouldn't
have....violated your rights like that."
	"I liked it," Bruce said suddenly.
	I stopped breathing.  "Really?"
	"I came."
	"I know but...."
	"Well...." He rolled his eyes.  "That shoulda been a clue, ya know."
	"But...." I was about to launch into the fact that an orgasm does not
guarantee a good time, but that didn't seem to be true for Bruce.  "I still
shouldn't have done that while you were sleeping.  I feel like I betrayed you."
	Bruce snickered slightly, then nudged me with his shoulder.  "I did it to
you once," he said.  "You were asleep and I made you come."
	"Well, I know but...."
	"You know?"  he broke in.  "You were awake?"  He looked shocked and it was
my turn to laugh.
	"Of course," I said.
	Bruce shook his head slowly, amazed.  He turned to me suddenly.  "Did you
like it?"
	"I came."
	He smiled broadly.  The moment was suddenly alive with excitement and
sexuality.  "Did you feel like I betrayed you?" he asked.
	"No."  He was so beautiful.  I wanted to kiss him right then and there.
He shrugged as if it was all settled and leaned against me, bumping his head on
my shoulder.
	"Next time," he said.  "You'll have to do it when I'm awake."
	I didn't say anything because I was speechless and I didn't move because I
was getting hard.  I reached up and touched him on the chin and we smiled at
each other.
	"So you liked it?" I asked, now wanting to hear more.
	He looked a little embarrassed and he nodded and looked away.  "Every time
I think about it, I get a boner."  He smiled nervously.  "That's why I have to
wait to go swimming."
	"Me too," I snickered, and we both broke out laughing.
	I wanted the night to come sooner.  Bruce and I circled each other with an
intensity that was hard to believe wasn't noticeable to all those around us.
Things had changed all right.  Bruce continued to shadow me all day long,
sitting near me, leaning against me, holding my hand and arm when we walked, but
I noticed that he bristled slightly when another boy would demand my affections.
In fact, when Michael got hurt during soccer and came over to me on the
sidelines, Bruce watched him curl up on my lap, crying on my shoulder while I
held him like a baby.  I stroked his forehead and patted his back.  Bruce, I
could see, found it difficult to watch, but he didn't say anything until much
later when Michael, long recovered from his injury, remained on my lap, snuggled
against my chest.  Bruce jogged over during a break and glared at him, then at
me.
	"He's all right now," he told me, his voice dripping with innuendo.
	But Michael was enjoying it and he just buried his face deeper into my
chest.  I shrugged at Bruce as if to say "What choice do I have?  It's my job."
Bruce looked irritated, took a swig of water, and ran back onto the field.  I
watched him play, glancing over toward us several times.  His playing suffered
for the distraction until I urged Michael to go back to the game.
	Later he asked me, "Do you like Michael?"
	I knew what he meant.  "I like Michael, of course," I said.  "But I'm
crazy about you."
	His eyes sparkled and a smile crept across his face.  He curled up on my
lap just like Michael had done, face into my chest, and I tickled him until he
rolled away, laughing melodically, shirt falling up to expose his flat tummy.
	That night, the energy was palpable between us.  We were giddy with
excitement and I could hardly make it through the guitar playing time.  I sat on
Bruce's bed and he lay touching my hip with his hand, a subtle connection that I
found moving and romantic.  I sang every song to him.  Aaron, one of the boys,
was restless and kept rolling about on his bed.  I started to get up to go to
him and Bruce caught my wrist.
	"Where are you going?"  He didn't look amenable to the idea.
	"To sit on Aaron's bed," I said.  "It'll help him get to sleep faster."
	We exchanged smiles and Bruce pushed me away.  "Hurry up then," he said.
"Go!  Go!"
	Aaron fell asleep an interminable five minutes later.  I put my guitar
away and went to do my usual bathroom routine.  I was trembling with excitement.
I felt like an adolescent on his first date.  When I returned to my room, Bruce
was lying in my bed.  His briefs lay on the floor beside the bed and the big
white tee shirt was pulled down over his thighs.  I walked in and stood looking
at him, for the first time as a lover about to embrace him, as an open admirer
of his young, boy body.  He was self-conscious at first.  It showed in his face.
	"You're so beautiful." I whispered.  I shook my head, disbelieving.  "So
perfectly beautiful!"
	His smile came naturally, comfortably.  He reached down and pulled up his
tee shirt, exposing the exquisite and breathtaking expanse of naked body, tummy
rising and falling rapidly, excitedly, penis jutting straight up from his soft,
hairless groin.  He pulled the shirt up past his nipples and tucked it under his
chin, beaming proudly at me as I gazed worshipfully.  He watched me drop my
shorts, pull off my shirt, then lower my boxers until they fell bunched around
my ankles.  My cock was also hard and ready, and his young eyes fixed a wide
gaze at it as if hypnotized by it.  I crawled into bed and into his arms and my
head swam with bliss.  My body sang with euphoria.
	I began to touch his body, coursing down over jutting hip and sturdy
thighs but he wriggled free and took my hands in his.  "Let me touch you first,"
he said, nearly desperately, and he raised himself to his knees beside me.
	At first, the touching was tentative and awkward.  He ran his fingers
through the hair on my chest and passed his hands over me, touching me
everywhere, exploring every part of me with a sweeping touch.  His small fingers
played across my chest and belly, down to my cock.  At the touch of his fingers,
my cock twitched and I felt the energy shoot through my body.  He manipulated it
carefully, curiously, lifting it as if testing its weight, touching the head and
the shaft and the hair with great interest and care.  He held my balls in his
hands.  He squeezed and kneaded my cock, pulling on it the way, I guessed, he
did to himself.  I moaned softly.
	"That good?" he whispered.
	I moaned my approval and he continued to fondle it.  He leaned down with
his nose very close to it, hesitant it seemed, then puckered his lips and kissed
it on the underside.  I groaned less softly and, encouraged, he lovingly landed
kisses all over my cock, down onto my balls, holding, squeezing, rubbing his
soft cheek against it.  I felt my orgasm approaching, roaring from a distance,
and so I reached down and pulled him away from my cock.  "Now you," I said
softly, and I kissed him on the nose.
	Bruce lay back passively and I lifted his tee shirt up to his chin.  His
stunning body lay outstretched before me, nipples dark, the size of dimes,
slender, sleek hips, taut tummy and flat belly button.  I leaned over and
flicked his left nipple with my tongue.  He giggled ticklishly, but he raised
his arm invitingly.  I licked his armpit, smooth and sweet, and he chuckled and
half tried to protect it.  My tongue traveled down his chest, over, in and
around his belly button, down to his right hip.  I licked the hip bone
attentively, sucked on it, then licked my way down to the inside of his thigh.
I kissed and sucked him there, moving down to his knee, lifting his leg to kiss
down his shin and suck on his toes.  He giggled and purred and gave deep,
satisfied sighs.  I traveled back up the other leg, over the shapely muscles,
dirty knee, and soft inner thigh.  He proved to be highly sensitive there,
cooing deliriously as I licked my way up to his pelvis.  I fluttered my tongue
on his thighs and belly.  He made little noises, high in his throat, almost a
laugh, almost a whimper.  My tongue neared his twitching cock and finally,
darted out and licked straight up the underside to the very tip.  He jerked
involuntarily and gasped.
	"Oh!  Oh!"  He was ecstatic.  I pushed his legs apart and fluttered my
tongue on his cock and balls, teasing him.  He thrust his hips up at me.  I
fluttered some more and he reached down and pulled my head down into his crotch.
I dove in with utter abandon, slipping his little dick between my lips, over my
tongue, into my warm, wet, mouth.  I could engulf his cock and balls in my mouth
at the same time, my tongue laving them, my lips sucking.  Bruce writhed and
gasped on the bed.  My hands reached up and tweaked his nipples, stroked his
ribs, squeezed his buttocks, brushed against his anus.  Bruce's back arched and
he thrusted his hips toward the ceiling.  His legs tightened and straightened,
his toes dug into the bed, and he erupted in my mouth.  It was a small drop that
tasted salty and sweet, just like my boy.  He bucked his hips wildly and finally
fell flat on the bed, spent, twitching dick still in my mouth.
	Almost immediately, Bruce sat up, eyes wide, smiling.  "That was great!"
he boomed.
	"Sssssh!"
	"Oh my God!"  he whispered, laughing crazily but quietly.
	"Glad you liked it," I said, lying down beside him.
	Bruce threw his arms around me and hugged me.  It was a genuine hug,
intimate and comfortable and flowing with real affection.  He heaved a deep,
long sigh, nuzzling my neck.  "Wow!"  He was finally catching his breath.
	My hard cock throbbed against his hip.  I was still hot but couldn't
expect him to tend to me too.  He was a boy, around whom the world revolved, now
sated for the time being after his first blowjob.
	"Now your turn," he said suddenly, sitting up.  He knelt over my cock and
took hold of it.  His hand seemed so small around my raging cock.  He looked at
it doubtfully.  "This'll never fit."
	"Lick it and suck on the side," I instructed.  "Take as much as you can.
All lips and tongue, get it really wet, and watch your teeth."  I pointed to the
underside.  "Here's the hot spot.  It drives me wild."
	Bruce took to the task with abandon.  He licked eagerly, sucking, kissing
and, from time to time, opening wide and taking it all in.  He did well for a
beginner.  I looked down at his handsome boy face, young and sweet, with my hard
cock crammed into his mouth, eyes narrowed, even cross-eyed at times he was so
attentive.  He slurped noisily, hungrily.  He looked like he was having a
wonderful time.  With one hand on my balls and the other holding my cock
upright, he licked and slobbered and ran his tongue all over it, and finally, as
he ran his tongue up and down the underside, I grunted, groaned, and exploded
with a huge load, shooting out onto my belly.  Mid-way through the orgasm, Bruce
took a swipe at the ropes of cum with his tongue, licking and tasting it, then
taking another sample from the last of it, dripping from the source.  He smacked
his lips and smiled up at me.  I watched him with heavy eyelids, peaceful and
calm, and he stared at my cock and the sperm with curiosity.
	Bruce and I cleaned me up, him prattling questions about sperm and eggs
and men and women and babies.  He whispered them like secret spy codes in the
darkness and he settled into the nook of my arm.  He seemed quite satisfied with
himself and we lay there as if we were lounging on the beach at swim time or
resting in the shade at soccer--comfortable, easy with each other, connected.
He fell asleep late, right in the middle of a question.  I followed soon after.

	Our shower the next morning went out of control.  I don't know what made
me think I could touch him without us going too far.  I shampooed his hair with
a sensual touch that we hadn't known before.  His small head was so lovely in my
hands, the hair long and thick with shampoo.  I ran my hands over his face and
he, with eyes closed, reached out and put a hand on my hip to steady himself.
The lather rolled down onto his shoulders and I slipped my hands over him, down
onto his back.  I noticed his cock getting hard quickly as streams of white soap
coursed down over it.  He rubbed the bar of soap in his hands, mixing up a thick
lather, and ran his hands up my chest, stepping closer into my water, hands
sliding down over my ass, my thighs, up between my legs.  When he engulfed my
cock in his slippery hands, I knew we'd gone too far and I knew I wouldn't stop.
We would probably hear someone approaching, but we would still have cocks as
hard as bricks.
	He tugged my cock, grinning up at me with his eyes closed, the water
running over his face, washing the shampoo down his back and over his sleek ass.
My hand followed it, down into the crevice.  He lifted one leg slightly and
quickened his pace on my cock, his small fingers touching it everywhere, my
balls rising.  I fingered his hole with a slippery finger.  I pressed him up
against me to get in further, one digit, then two.  He put his arms around me,
squeezing my ass with his hands, rubbing my cock, slippery with soap, against
his wet chest.  He shimmied a bit with a little snicker, sliding my cock over
his chest and wiggling his ass onto my finger.  I groaned before I knew it.
	"Do you like that?" I asked him in a low voice.
	He wiggled his ass again.  "Yeah," he gasped slightly.  "Yeah."
	I moved my finger in and out, side to side, tickling his prostate.  He
laughed low in his throat.  "Ooooo!"  He squeezed me and rubbed his chest
against me.  "That'll make me shoot."
	"Me too."
	I shoved my finger to the hilt and he shuddered and gasped, dropping his
head back, the water falling down over his handsomeness, eyes closed serenely.
He looked like an angel.  I finger fucked him while he shimmied against my
outthrust cock. It glided over his nipples, his small, firm chest muscles, the
head bumping him under his chin.  My whole body felt electric with his passion,
his abandon.  I reached down to the front of him with my other hand and, with a
soapy hand, began to rub his stiff cock.  It was sticking out proudly, hard and
resilient, impossibly hard.  When I touched him, his knees buckled slightly and
as his body sunk, my finger buried itself deeper in his ass.  He hiccuped and
squealed, high but softly.  I felt his cock throb, pumping out a spot of sperm
onto my hand.  He seemed to stop breathing, leaning against me, face in my
chest, and I shot suddenly, as if my orgasm continued his, took over where his
left off.   Sperm splashed out onto his chin, then another splash onto his
collarbone, then another on his sternum.  I gasped to the end and looked down
into his face.  He was watching me heave in ecstasy, watching me tremble, eyes
scrunched tight, jaw slack, head jerking.  He smiled slowly, making me smile as
the last of my cum oozed onto his chest.
	The daringness of what we'd done struck me and I stepped away from him and
into the water.  "Shit," I said. "We have to be more careful."
	Bruce wasn't listening.  He was rubbing my sperm over his chest like soap,
his nipples glistening. He watched his hand smooth the goo, felt the texture
between his fingers.  He was studying it curiously.
	"You come a lot," he noted.
	"It says something about my partner," I replied.
	He didn't catch my meaning, giving me a questioning look.
	"You make me come a lot," I explained.  "You're just so perfect."
	He gave me wrinkled-nose smile, embarrassed but flattered.
	Our relationship then lurched ahead.  All day, I was conscious of how
obvious it was.  The looks we exchanged, the touches, the ease with which we
were together.  I felt as if everyone knew, everyone saw but didn't want to say
anything.  They were pretending that they didn't notice us, so shameless and
conspicuous we were.   Yet we couldn't help it.  In woodshop, he made a coaster,
a wooden base covered with a colorful rubber pad.  He used the woodburner to
write in the wood:  "I love you," with a heart and his name on the bottom.  When
he gave it to me, he did it with all the heart-rendering spirit of a young
suitor, offering a gift to his beloved.  He watched my face for a reaction.  I
was so touched that I reached out and touched his cheek softly, rubbing his
jawline for a moment without thinking of how it looked.  No one seemed to
notice.
	"I'll keep it forever," I said, and I hugged him warmly.
	All day I thought about making love to Bruce.  I watched him everywhere we
went.  I got to thinking about how sensitive his ass was, how he went crazy the
more I played with it, how readily it accepted my probing fingers.  I wondered
if Bruce wouldn't like to be fucked.  The thought of my cock inside him made me
too hard to stand around in public and I had to sit down with my hat in my lap.
Every time I was alone, in the bathroom or on my break, my mind seemed to burst
free and run rampant with fantasies about Bruce and me, making love on the
beach, in the boathouse, in the woods.  I would get so hard again that I had to
wait for it to subside before I could rejoin the group.
	I found a beautiful stone, shiny and round, near the lake.  It was
stunning in its colors and texture and all the boys in my cabin admired it when
they saw it.  With pliers, I meticulously shaped a strong wire around it and
hung it from a leather strap.  It was striking and that night when I climbed
into bed with Bruce, I presented it to him.  He hugged me and spontaneously
kissed me hard on the lips.  He looked surprised at his boldness, a little
embarrassed, but my reaction must have communicated my acceptance because he
chuckled and kissed me again, this time pulling me to him, his small, liquid
arms around my neck.  I urged his lips open with mine and darted my tongue
inside.  His lips softened.  His kiss opened up into a lovely flower.  His
tongue greeted mine.  Fast learner.
	I kissed him lightly several times until he began to imitate me.  I licked
his lips, he licked mine, I sucked on his tongue, and he sucked on mine.  He lay
on top of me the whole time in nothing but his big tee shirt, grinding his
pelvis into my belly, my cock head bumping his perineum, my hands squeezing and
rubbing and fondling his ass.  His whole body was so smooth and soft that I
wanted to touch him everywhere at once. My hands roamed over his thighs and hips
and back and shoulders, down again to his ass.  I ran a finger into the crevice
and he instantly parted his legs, breathing a little desperately, his lips
pressed against mine.  I probed deeper with one wet finger and before long,
Bruce was straddling my waist and I was poking a finger into his anus.  He was
growling into my ear, his hot breath crawling around my neck, his hair in my
face, the smell of him all around me.  He groaned and whinced when I inserted
the second finger.  I rolled him onto his back and knelt between his legs,
nibbling on his earlobe while I stuffed both fingers up his ass.  He spread his
legs happily, smiling up at me, arms around my neck, gasping and panting into my
ear.  In and out my fingers went, at first slowly, then faster.  I put my hands
behind his knees and pushed his legs up, spreading them wide, doubling him over
to expose his hole to my hungry mouth.  I licked and tongued him, licking up the
perineum, covering his balls with saliva, licking and sucking his dick into my
mouth.  He was groaning so loud that I had to stop to tell him to be quiet.
	"I can't help it," he gasped.
	"Well then I'll have to stop," I bluffed.
	"I'll help it."
	I inserted my fingers into his ass again and the ease with which they went
in indicated to me that he was ready for something bigger.  I moved forward
between his legs and touched my cock head to his anus.  He flinched at first and
looked surprised.  I rubbed the head of my cock against his hole, teasing it,
smiling down into his face.  I felt his legs relax again and he closed his eyes
passively with a smile on his angelic face.
	It was tough going at first.  He whinced in pain as I tried to enter him
and he hissed through his teeth.  I waited patiently, the tip of my cock propped
into his anus, then pushed softly again, pulling back , then pushing a bit
further.  He lay biting his lip, eyes shut tightly, panting with concentration.
I leaned far over him and we rubbed noses.
	"You okay?"
	"I thought this was supposed to feel good," he choked.
	"It does," I said.  "After you get used to it.  Should I stop?"
	"Do you want to?"
	I could've lied.  It would have spared him the pain.  But I heard myself
chuckle at the very notion.  "I've never been so excited in my life."
	He looked at me and kissed me, whinced again, then took a deep breath.
"Keep goin' then."
	"You sure?"
	He nodded and held onto me tightly, pulling my head down beside his,
pressing his legs back even further.  I pushed and felt my head disappear inside
him.  He was hot like a furnace.  I went in a bit further, and with a large,
slow exhalation, I felt his sphincter give way, gradually yielding to my
invading, persistent cock.  The feeling was sheer bliss.  My cock sank into him
until my pubic hair tickled his perineum.  We lay there for a moment, then I got
up on my knees, looking down at him, spread before me, his prick hard and
nodding, his face contorted into a grimace of pain.  I began to fuck him.
	At first, I thought that only I was enjoying it.  He seemed to be in
excruciating pain.  Then, he began to moan, loud at first until I covered his
mouth and told him to "Sssssh".  I was grunting and heaving as I fucked him
deeply.  The bed creaked and I felt his fingernails sink into my arms.  He
seemed to hiccup and cough and sneeze all at the same moment, and he reached
down to yank on his cock just as sperm shot out and onto his belly.  His head
was tossing from side to side and I heard him say, "Oh, God!  Fuck!" under his
breath but still too loud for the stillness of the night.
	It was too much for me to watch and my orgasm burst upon me.  Waves and
waves of pleasure surged through me as I shot my load into his ass.  I pulled my
cock out and shot more onto his cock and balls, then squeezed the last of it
onto the inside of his thigh.  I slumped over him, exhausted and weak, and
buried my nose into his collarbone, kissing his nipple tenderly.
	Bruce lowered his legs from my shoulders and looked inquisitively into my
face.
	"Was that good?"
	"Better than good," I said.  "Way above and beyond good and into heaven."
I kissed his forehead, his cheek, his earlobe, his jaw, his chin.  "What about
you?"
	"It hurt at first, but...." he shrugged and smirked.  "Then it was great!
Way above and beyond great and into...." He  paused and thought a moment.
"What's higher than heaven?"
	"Just you, boy," I sighed, and he spread his legs wide beneath me.
	"Do it some more," he whispered lustily.
	"When I get hard," I said.
	"Get hard then," he urged.  We giggled and he lifted his legs slightly.  I
ground my pelvis into his ass, still slippery from the sperm that oozed from it.
He wriggled his ass.  It was working.  I felt my cock begin to stir in the
crevice of his ass.
	I repositioned us with me beneath him, him straddling my hips.  He spit on
my cock and rubbed it until I was erect again.  So soon after my orgasm, I was
shocked by how hard I was.  He took my cock in his hand and guided the head to
his anus, lowering himself onto it.  He was still slippery and more eager than
ever and my cock went in with little problem.  Before long, I was all the way
inside him and he was grinding into my pelvis.  He was like a mad animal,
rutting, sweating.  I began to fuck him, the bed squeaking with every thrust,
softly like a cricket in the night.  I moved in and out with ease, my cock on
fire with excitement.  I grabbed his narrow hips and lifted him slightly, then
pressed him down, lifting, pressing, fucking him slowly.  Having just expended
my load, I was refueled and had a lot of time to screw before I came again.  We
settled into a long session of fucking.
	His cock wasn't hard at the start of it but was soon jutting out wildly as
my cock slid in and out of him.  We fucked for a long time and I sensed he was
getting sore as he was moving slower and whincing more.  He dropped his head
down onto me, pressing his face into my neck, resting his chest on me.  I had to
rise up on my heels to penetrate him and the boy moaned into my ear.  I grasped
his sleek hips in my hands.  I could feel the juices rising.  I was happy to
feel it coming.  I feared Bruce was tiring.  I was afraid it was starting to
hurt too much.
	When he heard my breathing quicken, heard me moan with rapid thrusts,
shaking and rocking his little body, he became excited again.  Inspired by my
obviously approaching orgasm, Bruce rose up on his straight arms and looked into
my face, smiling and watching.  Our eyes locked.  He looked like he was
vicariously experiencing orgasm by watching me, by taking me there.  He looked
happy, elated for me, pleased with himself, radiant in his giving, our sharing.
I shot my load into him with a hearty grunt and groan.  He clapped a hand over
my mouth and grinned into my face, eyes bright, gleaming.  I moaned into his
hand as another wave washed through me and into him.  He was giggling silently
and as the last of my cum drained from me, I too began to giggle, into his hand.
	"You're loud," he whispered hilariously.
	"So are you," I responded.
	"Not that loud."
	I laughed.  "Louder."
	My cock was still embedded in his ass.  It was already going soft.
Slowly, I withdrew from him and my cock lolled lazily onto my belly, sated and
peaceful.  I reached down and touched his anus tenderly.  It was gooey and
slippery with sperm.  "Are you okay?"
	"It's sorta sore."
	"I'm sorry," I said.  I really was.  I took my bandanna and began to wipe
him gently.
	"It's all right," he said.  "I like to watch you come."
	I smiled broadly.  "Good."  He whinced a bit when I wiped his asshole
clean and dry and my heart ached for him.  He was so giving, so generous, so
loving.  It was his first time being fucked and I had done it twice.  The second
round had been long and arduous, a slow-moving heaven for me.  When he was
clean, I pulled his underwear back onto him, pulled on my boxers, and pulled him
close to me under the covers.  It was late and he had to be exhausted as I was.
Our bodies melded together as one, like wax melting into wax.  I breathed in the
smell of him and sighed happily.
	"I love you, Bruce."  The words rolled out as if on their own.  I was a
little surprised at how easily they flowed.  Bruce squeezed my neck slightly.
	"Did you like the coaster I made you?" he asked.
	At first his question sounded obscure and disconnected, but then I
remembered the message on the coaster and realized that it was a reply.  It was
so perfect that I even dreamt about us, lying together, in love.

	Bruce was tired and sore the next morning.  He was difficult to stir from
his sleep but when I suggested he skip our shower and rest longer, he pushed
himself upright and forced open his eyes, determined to go with me.  He moved
slowly and yawned a dozen times before we even stepped into the shower.  He
stood, eyes fixed on the water running over the floor, over his toes, shoulders
hunched.  I offered to wash him and he accepted.  I ran my soapy hands over his
body and he hardly reacted at all.  His cock remained flaccid, his body stock
still under my ministrations, his eyes gazing emptily at the floor.  When I
washed between his ass cheeks, he grimaced in pain and I felt horrible, having
done this to him.  I kissed him on the ear and apologized and he smiled for the
first time that morning.
	"It's okay," he said bravely.
	"Maybe you're too small to..."
	"I liked it," he broke in firmly.   "I'm not too small.  I'm
just....tired."
	"You fell asleep late," I said.  "Maybe you could spend the day in the
infirmary, just to catch up on sleep."
	"I don't wanna."
	"Why not?"
	"I wanna sleep with you."  He pouted, his body stiffened into a stubborn,
unrelenting stance.
	I didn't push the matter but I watched him closely during breakfast.  He
looked sick.  His lovely eyes drooped, his skin looked pale.  I constantly
caught him staring dully off into space.  After breakfast, I pulled him aside
and insisted.
	"You have to go, just for the morning," I said.  "I don't want you to get
sick."
	"No," he stated, unwavering in his determination.
	"You're going and I'm not changing my mind."  I had to insist, for his
sake.  I worried a bit about the nurse spotting something that might reveal the
nature of the activities that kept Bruce up the previous night, but I was too
concerned about Bruce's health to not insist.  Bruce shook his head defiantly.
	"Only if you go too," he said.
	"You're going," I said back.  "I'm not."
	"But..."  His voice had skipped into a whine and I knew he was relenting.
	"But nothing," I said.  "I care too much about you to let you get sick."
	Bruce spent the morning in the infirmary.  I stopped by to check on him
twice and he was sound asleep, hair spread on his pillow, his lovely color back
in his face.  I stroked his cheek and left.
	I felt incomplete while we were separated.  The kids in my cabin hung on
me and played with me but I missed Bruce entirely.  Still, it was good to catch
up on my relationships with the other boys before it began to take its toll.
After lunch, while they played on the playground, I went up to see Bruce.  He
was awake and finishing his lunch in bed.  He was back to his chipper self,
smiling at me as I entered, leaping to his feet and hurling himself, airborne,
at me.  I caught him in my arms and squeezed him to me.
	"How do you feel?" I asked.
	"Great!"
	"Rested?"
	He smiled conspiratorially and touched his forehead to mine.  "Uh-huh," he
nodded.  "And I figured that now I'll be able to stay up later tonight."  He
raised his eyebrows up and down meaningfully, grinning from ear to ear.  I
couldn't help smiling, but I also worried that maybe he was prepared to do
anything for my attention, willing to comply to any of my whims and needs, and
that the sex had been largely for my benefit and enjoyment, not his.  He was
sacrificing his body for my love and affection, allowing me to utilize it in any
way I saw fit in exchange for love.  I waited and watched him pull clothes onto
his impeccable body.  He did it speedily, as if he were afraid I might leave
without him, and when he was done, he grabbed my hand and refused to let go.  We
left the infirmary and headed toward the playground.  He was glowing with
happiness and health.
	"Bruce," I said.  "I would be just as happy cuddling and talking with you
tonight.  You don't have to....ya know...we don't have to...."
	He looked at me, confused.  "You don't want to?"
	"I don't want to hurt you," I said.  "Ever."
	He squeezed my hand.  "You didn't."
	"Still," I said.  "We don't have to if you'd rather do something else."
	"Like what?"
	I didn't have answer at the ready.  I shrugged.  "Hang out," I said.
"Talk."
	He snorted in laughter.  "You're crazy."
	Somebody called his name from the playground and his cabin mates came
running to greet him.  They surrounded him like a hero returning from a great
conquest, rattling on about the exploits of the morning, inviting him to play on
the playground.  He ran off with them and they swarmed over the monkey bars like
an army of ants.
	I saw Bruce's temper flare later that day when, after dinner, an older boy
from another cabin was bullying Michael.  Michael was crying and cowering while
the older boy taunted him and slapped him in the back of the head.  I was about
to yell out to him, to tell him to stop.  I had taken a step toward them.  Bruce
appeared from nowhere, stepping brazenly between them, glaring into the face of
the older boy who was a good head taller than Bruce.  Bruce puffed his chest out
and rose slightly on his toes, like a cat trying to look bigger and more
intimidating.  The older boy didn't back down.
	There was an exchange of words that I couldn't hear, then the bigger boy
shoved Bruce hard, sending him back about four feet.  Bruce stepped up sideways,
on his toes, both fists balled, and struck with his right.  It landed square in
the middle of the older boys face.  Before the blood had a chance to gush from
his nose, Bruce landed another punch into the boy's stomach.  The fight was on.
The bigger boy charged, head down, knocking Bruce to the ground and the older
boy on top of him, fists flailing.  It all lasted only a few moments before I
and two other counselors reached them.  I grabbed Bruce, the others grabbed the
larger boy, whose tee shirt was already stained with blood.  He was, to my
surprise, crying and growling at the same time.  Bruce was simply furious,
cutting loose with a string of curse words that shocked a few of the more
innocent onlookers.  I spoke softly into Bruce's ear.
	"Calm down.  Now."  I was gentle but insistent and Bruce grew silent,
still breathing heavily, adrenaline still flowing.  After a few moments, I felt
his body relax and he watched the older boy being taken away to the nurse.
Bruce had a puffy eye that was getting bigger by the moment and a counselor
rushed away and returned with a bag of ice.
	Bruce emerged with a small bruise beneath his left eye and the utter
respect of his cabinmates, particularly little Michael, who regarded Bruce with
an adoring gaze while Bruce sat with the ice pack on his eye.  I had to admit
that I too was impressed by Bruce's bravery and loyalty, his championing for the
underdog, his disdain and intolerance for bullies and injustice.  I tried to
tell him that fighting was wrong but ended up saying that sometimes, a person
has to fight, and although he should've utilized staff intervention, he had
fought for a worthy cause.  He eyed me as if he knew that I was proud of him,
but he nodded solemnly and apologized.  The other boy, as it turned out, showed
up at evening activities with a slightly swollen nose, eye and cheekbone,
clearly the worse for wear, the defeated villain.
	Little Michael was talky that evening at bedtime, still excited about the
incident, worshipping Bruce from afar, tending to him like a servant. Bruce
humbly accepted the attention.  I could tell that it both pleased and
embarrassed him.  He kept telling Michael to forget about it but he beamed at
every retelling of the story that Michael offered.  Consequently, Michael didn't
fall asleep to the guitar.  When all others but Bruce were snoring softly,
Michael was still awake, asking me what would happen if the boy attacked him
tomorrow, and on and on.  Bruce impatiently told him to go to sleep, then lay
silently in his bed.  After about fifteen minutes of sitting on Michael's
bedside, stroking his back to calm and relax him, he was quiet but still awake.
Bruce watched him closely as if he could will him to sleep.
	I went to the bathroom and went through my routine and when I returned,
Bruce was peering through the darkness at Michael, who appeared to be asleep.
Bruce leapt silently to the floor and followed me into my room.  I put my
toothbrush away and went out to check on Michael.  He was breathing deeply, out
cold, and I rushed back to the room.
	I was prepared to spend a night with Bruce talking and cuddling, not
initiating any sex, not pushing my desires upon him.  Really I was.  I had
chastized myself for thinking otherwise and had my intentions under control.
However, when I entered my room, Bruce looked frantically at me.
	"Is he asleep?" he whispered.
	I nodded.  Bruce yanked down his briefs and kicked them off.  They flew
into the corner of the room.  He climbed into bed and motioned for me to hurry
up.  By the time I was naked, Bruce had lifted his legs and spread them wide, a
near panicked look on his face, flushed red with excitement.  He sucked on one
of his fingers and reached down between his legs, fingering his asshole.  I
lowered myself slowly upon him, my hard cock waving before me.
	He was already panting.  With his other arm, he pulled me down onto him.
	"Do it to me again," he whispered.
	I was surprised and enormously excited to hear him say it.  "Are you
sure?"
	"Hell yes."
	"I don't want to hurt you again, Bruce."  I was trying to remain
responsible about this but Bruce squeezed my cock and guided it to his hole.
	"I wanna," he insisted.
	"Bruce...."
	"Please!" he said suddenly.  "I've been waiting all day!"
	I couldn't resist his pleading.  I didn't want to resist.  He was eager
and spread as wide as he could, gasping before I had even really touched him.  I
licked a finger and circled his anus slowly.
	"Oh, yeah," he purred.  "Lick me first, okay?"  His eyes were suddenly
wide and excited, imploring me, pleading.  He didn't have to ask twice.
	I became terrifically excited, panting and moaning as I began to lick him
with wide strokes--his thighs and belly, his little balls in their silky sac,
his prick, small and firmly erect.  He squirmed on the bed as I held him by the
hips.  When my tongue invaded his asshole, he began to breathe faster, grunting
low in his throat.  I shoved my tongue in as far as it could go, pushing his
legs up until his knees touched his ears.  I ate him hungrily, sucking on the
lips of his anus, plunging my tongue in and out.  I inserted a finger slowly.
	"Oh, yeah!  Yeah!  Yeah!"  he gasped.  "Put it in now!"
	I inserted a second finger and he grunted as it went in.  I had to dilate
him slowly but he seemed too eager to wait.  "Put it in!" he pleaded.  "Hurry!"
	I fingered him with two fingers for a while, then positioned myself so
that my cock head came to rest on his pink bud.  His eyes were rolling into his
head and his tongue protruded slightly from between his pink lips.  He was
delirious with the moment, enveloped in passion.
	My cock slid in easily at first and didn't meet resistance until it was
better than half way in.  He grunted and grimaced, then looked up into my face.
"Fuck me!" he whispered.
	The words jolted me, coming from this little boy, so hungry and open and
willing.  I pulled out slightly, then pushed all the way in.  He moaned and
gritted his teeth.  When I was all the way in, I stopped and waited for him to
catch his breath.  He smiled up at me, eyes closed as if he were in a heavenly
dream, as if he were hovering somewhere near nirvana, paradise, contentment,
bliss.  I was so turned on by the sight of him, writhing there, his beautiful,
warm, smooth body doubled over underneath me, begging me to do to him what I so
desired.  I began to fuck him deeply, holding onto his small ankles with my
hands.  I watched my dick slide into him, through the slippery lips of his hole,
making him shiver with pleasure.   I fucked him long and hard before my orgasm
began to rise.  His cock throbbed.  I could see the moist tip, glistening in the
dim light.  I lowered my head to kiss him and his lips hungrily took mine in,
our tongues wrestling.  He wrapped his arms around my neck, all the way until
his armpits were on my shoulders, and then we shuddered together and cried out
into each other's mouths, as we exploded at the same time.  I felt his penis
throbbing and pumping out his load against my belly as my own cock spewed my cum
into him, twitching and tickling his prostate.  He groaned and squealed high in
his throat.  The noise flowed into my mouth, down into my throat.  I pumped the
contents of my balls into him, then collapsed on top of him, trying to catch my
breath.  Bruce started to giggle, overflowing with happiness and glee, and I
couldn't help chuckling myself to see him so elated, to feel so elated there
clutched to him.

	Bruce became insatiable, and as he became hungrier, our behavior became
riskier.  Our showers became quick jack off sessions, soaping each others' cocks
and pumping them wildly.  We did it silently beneath the jets of water,
listening carefully for footsteps.  It was stupidly dangerous.
	One time, after arriving at the beach for an all camp swim, Bruce
announced loudly that he had forgotten his swim trunks--it had slipped his mind,
he said, he hadn't realized while he was wrapping his towel around his waist
that those were his blue denim shorts he had on, not his swim trunks.  He pulled
on my hand and asked me if I could take him back to the cabin to change.  He had
an entirely somber expression on his face, chiding himself for his absent-
mindedness, apologizing to me for the inconvenience.  If I hadn't known better,
I would never have guessed that he had an ulterior motive.  I looked over at a
counselor who had been standing listening and before I could ask, he volunteered
to tend to the rest of my kids.  Bruce took my hand and we started up toward the
cabin.
	"We don't have much time, you know," I said.  "What are you thinking
about?"
	Bruce smiled up at me, then looked back at the path ahead of him.  "We'll
be real fast," he said confidently.  "I know what I wanna do already."
	"Care to share it with me?"
	Bruce looked up at me and stuck his tongue out, hard and pointed, and
waved the tip of it at me suggestively.  "You," he whispered conspiratorially.
	"Me?"  I didn't understand.
	He nodded vigorously.  "I'm gonna.....ya know...."  He rolled his eyes and
glanced around.  "I'm gonna do you."  He stuck his tongue out again past his
handsome grin.  I felt a shiver go down my spine.
	"You do?"
	He laughed and nodded.  "I like it and I have a few ideas I wanna try."
He suddenly sounded so scientific.  I was happy to be his guinea pig.
	Inside the cabin, Bruce quickly unsnapped and unzipped his shorts and
dropped them to his ankles.  His white briefs buldged at the front.  He stepped
out of the shorts and peeled off the briefs.  He was totally naked now and
reaching for my trunks.  He tugged at my hard dick through the fabric, then
pulled my trunks out and down.  My cock bounced to attention, pointing at him
like a loaded gun.  His eyes brightened at the sight of it and it turned me on
all the more.
	I sat down on my bed and he knelt between my legs, elbows on my knees.  He
took my cock in both hands and touched it all over, sending my whole body into
an electric frenzy.  I moaned in my throat.  He kissed the head gently and
smiled up at me, then darted his tongue out to swipe at the underside.  I heaved
a sigh that seemed to last forever and I heard him giggle, amused and excited at
my response.  I leaned back on my elbows and watched him lick me with a
fluttering tongue, around the tip, down the shaft, back up again to the head.
He was breathing heavily and I realized that while one of his hands were holding
onto my cock, pulling it to his mouth, the other hand was down below, tugging on
his own dick with fast, hurried strokes.  He mashed his wet lips on my cock and
sucked the side of it, sliding up and down, a new trick that felt delicious.  He
watched me through his bangs that hung down his forehead.  He made a tentative
attempt to get my cock into his mouth.  He seemed to know when it struck his
teeth because he pulled back slightly, managing to stuff about half of my hard
rod inside.  His cheeks puffed and he gagged a few times, face red with effort.
I groaned.
	"Oh, God, yeah!" I panted.
	He was eating it greedily, as if the feel of it in his mouth was
stimulating some mysterious gland on his tongue, driving him crazy with passion
and lust.  He bobbed his head up and down over me, my cock sliding past his
small, pink lips.  His tongue fluttered against the underside of it and drove me
wild.  I reached down and took his head in my hands, toying with his small ears,
following the bob, up and down, in and out, sliding, slipping in his lovely
mouth.  He was working furiously on his own cock at the same time.  I felt the
vibration of a moan course through my prick.  His little fingers fondled my
balls like they were precious eggs.  I was feeling my balls boil and I thrust my
hips up into his face without thinking.  To my surprise, Bruce groaned loudly
and pulled his head back just enough to keep from gagging.  I thrust again,
holding on to his head and, after a few attempts, managed to establish a fucking
rhythmn into his mouth, going only so deep so as not to choke him.  Bruce closed
his eyes and relaxed his mouth.  His body tensed up as he jacked off, back
straightening while his shoulders were hunched over my plunging penis.  My
juices were rising, suddenly flowing, about to pop.
	"Here I come," I warned.  I let go of his head and put my hands on his
shoulders, but he didn't remove his mouth from my cock.  "Here I come," I
grunted again.  The sperm shot out and into his mouth.  I thought he would be
surprised and spit it out, but he kept his head still, his lips sealed around my
shaft, as I filled his mouth.  I flowed and flowed.  He swallowed and a bit
oozed from the corner of his mouth.  His eyes were heavy-lidded and lost,
oblivious, as his arm flew below, and he grunted and jerked his whole body as he
reached his own climax.  While his twitching dick spewed his pearls on the floor
beneath my bed, the last of my load pumped into his mouth.  When he was empty,
he lay his head on my pelvis, my cock still in his mouth, as it slowly went limp
between his lips.  We stayed like that for several moments and I had to sit up
and reach down to lift him up and off my cock.  I pulled him up against me and
kissed his lips, dripping with my sperm.  He was smiling already, even chuckling
proudly to himself.
	"You are amazing!"  I said breathlessly.  "You're magical!  God-like!"   I
meant every word.  Bruce was more than I ever dreamed of.  "That was awesome!"
	He buried his face against my collarbone and curled up on my lap, his
half-hard penis dripping still, into a fetal position, warm like a quilt.  I
hugged him long and hard.  He sat up suddenly, looking into my face, still
grinning.
	"I made you cum," he said triumphantly.
	"It isn't the first time, you know," I replied.
	"Yeah but this time I did it all."  He was beaming with pride and I was
euphoric with love for him.
	"Yes," I said.  "I am a slave to you, boy.  A very happy slave."  I
tweaked his nipple and he giggled.  "Now we have to get back to the beach."