Date: Sun, 3 Dec 2006 16:09:53 -0600
From: spasm2 <spasm2@mailandnews.com>
Subject: Pauls Pants Episode 5c

Paul's Pants episode 5c, Into the woods

This is the third part of the school camping saga, sorry if the numbering
is getting confusing. Usual story; comments, requests, or insults to;
spasm2[at]mailandnews.com. The final episode is to follow.

	After supper that evening, and before the inexorable session of
uplifting songs and prayer began, our team leader stood up and tapping his
water glass to get our attention, announced; `Right you horrible lot, as
you know, tomorrow we're going to start our orienteering exercise. You've
all been divided into pairs, and as a team you will have to work together
to complete the task. Ok, this is how it's going to work; although it's not
a race, you have until Wednesday lunchtime to get back here. Each team will
be taken off and left somewhere in Cumbria, you'll have a map reference of
where you are, a reference for here, and a good mapping compass. It is up
to you to plan your route back, and to organise your trip. One of you will
be carrying a tent, and you'll have enough food to last the two days. Now,
any questions?'

	Inevitably there was an excited babble as all the boys started to
ask questions at the same time, I just listened, figuring that I'd find out
more that way. Finally, the flood of questions ground to a halt and we were
taken off into our prayer session.

	I didn't sleep well that night, the image of Paul's newly shaven
cock was uppermost in my mind, and if I hadn't blown my load all over him
already that morning I would have been waking up in sticky sheets. As it
was, I stayed stiff and hard for most of the night.

	It was something of a relief to be woken next day and realise that
at last our adventure was going to start. Although we had little experience
of camping, we had all practised erecting our two man tents the day before,
and had been lectured interminably about the necessity of travelling
light. Once I came to pick up the tent I began to realise why, these were
state of the art for the 1970's but compared to the modern pocket
handkerchiefs, there was still quite a bit of weight to them. We were not
to be among the first group to be taken off and dumped somewhere, and so I
had been able to sort my clothes out quite carefully. A discreet return
visit to the lost clothes bin had yielded a few more possible items,
including some camouflage patterned y fronts which I thought might prove
interesting.

	I had dressed carefully; loose shorts, a thick long sleeved shirt
and hiking boots, and for luck, I wore the skimpy blue nylon slip that Paul
had picked out for me, even though nylon probably wasn't that sensible for
walking in. However, I reckoned that there was a very good chance that I
wouldn't be keeping them on for very long.

	I hadn't seen Paul at all since breakfast; when he had slobbed in
wearing saggy old track suit bottoms and an old t shirt. `How's it
feeling?' I asked, when I finally got near to him.

	He stuck his hands in his pockets and hoiked his tracky bottoms
tight up against his crotch, even before he answered, it was evident that
he wasn't wearing any pants, and I could see the stiff outline of his erect
cock alongside his thigh. `Feels great, really sexy,' he whispered, mindful
of the room full of eavesdroppers, `a bit chilly though.'

	`You'll get used to it, and I'm sure we can think of a way to warm
you up.'

	`Yeah, I bet we can.'

	`Hadn't you better get ready? Or are you coming as you are?'

	`No, it's just the way my trousers hang,' he giggled, `I'm just off
to get ready now, I'll meet you in the car park in half an hour.'

	`Don't forget to bring a change of underwear,' I said, stating the
bleeding obvious.

	`Of course not, what do you take me for?' with that he bundled out
of the room.

	I already had my backpack ready, not that I had much room for stuff
with the tent to carry, but a change of clothes and some washing stuff
didn't take up much room, and of course I had my camera and a few pairs of
pants. Paul had to carry the food and stuff, on balance he was carrying a
lighter load, but then he was smaller and lighter than me. I carted my
stuff out to the car park; even though there was a light drizzle falling it
was still warm. I was glad I had a kagool, although I wasn't about to put
it on. There was a small group of boys waiting at the bus shelter; although
the centre's minibus was nowhere to be seen, presumably as it was still
returning from its previous mission. We stood about chatting amiably and to
no particular purpose for a few minutes, until I gradually realised that
the chatter was fading away, and their attention was focussing back over my
shoulder down the path towards the huts. The smirks on their faces might
have given it away, but anyway, when I turned round I was treated to the
spectacle of Paul in full-on hiking mode. From the top down; he had on his
dreadful woolly hat and somewhat dwarfed by his backpack; he was wearing a
full blown scouts uniform. It was obvious that he hadn't worn it for some
time, as the short blue shorts were rather tight, not to say verging on the
obscene. His crotch bulged quite impressively and rather obviously, and it
really was just as well that he wasn't too excited.

	`What?' he demanded aggressively, spotting the grins.

	`I didn't know you'd been a scout, Paul,' I interjected before
anyone else could speak, `you've got a lot of badges.'

	`Yeah, I'd given it up, but I reckon we'll survive, only thing is,
I'm a lousy cook.'

	`Not a problem, we've got sausages, bacon and bread, what can go
wrong,' I said. Fortunately, before anyone else could say anything, or we
could drift into double-entendres, the minibus rattled noisily up and our
teachers climbed out.

	`Good grief,' said the senior master looking Paul up and down, `I
had no idea you were so experienced. I shan't be worrying about the pair of
you then, you'll be coming in first I'm sure.'

	`Maybe, Sir,' I interrupted politely, `but we're neither of us
great navigators.'

	`Ah well, we shall see, right you lot, get your back packs into the
minibus and let's get on.'

	We threw our bags into the back of the minibus and bundled noisily
on, Paul and I grabbed a space together on the bench seat at the back, and
sat there, naked thighs pressing deliciously together. We were not the
first drop off, and as we bounced along the country lanes to our various
destinations I was very aware of a gradual stiffening in my groin. As it
turned out we were going to be the last to be left; `How are you feeling?'
I asked Paul, thinking he might be feeling a little nervous. Instead of
speaking, he took hold of my hand and placed it on his crotch. His cock was
rigid and hard under my hand, and I traced its length with my
fingers. Although his shorts were very tight, I was able to pull his shirt
out and with a little co-operation, undo the top button and slide my hand
down the front and into his pants. I couldn't tell what pants he had on,
although they felt smooth and sheer under my gently probing fingers, no
matter, no doubt all would be revealed in time.

        At the same moment, his hand slipped up the leg of my shorts and
caressed my already bulging prick. This was all very nice, but we were
nearing our destination, and Paul's shorts weren't capable of hiding
anything. As the minibus slowed down, and we were obviously about to stop,
I hissed; `pull your shirt out, that'll cover it up.'

	As we climbed out of the back seat, his erection was at least
partially concealed by his shirt tails; unfortunately, his dishevelled
state caught the attention of the senior master. `Oh good grief boy, half
an hour in the back of a bus and your clothes are falling off already, tuck
your shirt in for heavens sake and try to look decent.'

	`Yes sir,' he said meekly as he struggled into his back pack, he
turned away as he stuffed the shirt tails back down the front of his
shorts, and tried to keep behind me, as his stiffy was still very
prominent. I suppose in retrospect, the teacher must have been aware of
Paul's tumescence, and thought nothing of it, at that age we were all prone
to uncontrollable erections.

	`Ok, you two,' the master said, `off you go now, and we'll see you
in a day or so. Don't forget that if you have any problems; you have the
centre number, phone in and we'll come and pick you up.'

	`That's if there's any phones in the wilderness, of course.' I
muttered darkly. `Right,' I said to Paul, `saddle up, and let's get on our
way.' As the minibus roared noisily off down the track, we turned off the
road and headed into the tree plantation. `I think we should head for some
higher ground, work out where we are, and where we should be heading.'

	`Sounds good to me,' he answered, `if we go up this way, the ground
is rising, and we should be able to see a bit more.'

	`Yup, but before we go, I'd like to take your picture.' Paul turned
to face the camera, standing with one foot on a convenient boulder, and his
still bulging crotch thrust towards the camera. I took the shot, and then
as he sensuously ran his fingers over the rigid shaft of his erect penis I
took a few more. `Wow, you look so horny in that get-up,' I said, `we'll
have to get a few more pics later.'

	`Why d'you think I dressed up like this,' he replied, smiling
wickedly, `but for now I think we should press on.'

	It was a beautiful morning; the light drizzle had given way to
gentle sunshine and a blue sky, once we'd decided what direction we were
going in we walked for a couple of hours through the tree plantation. Apart
from the distant buzzing of chainsaws there was no sign of human life
anywhere. Eventually we came to some open ground and a steeply rising
track, `Let's go up to the top, and see what we can see,' I said, `it might
help us pick somewhere to stop for lunch.'

	`Ok,' Paul replied, `I could do with a cup of tea, and a rest.'

	We got up to the top a few minutes later; there was a convenient
and comfortable spot, sheltered from any breeze by a couple of large
boulders. We dumped our backpacks and I dug out the primus stove to make
tea. Paul, in the meantime was wandering about, admiring the view, so I
suppose was I as I admired his pert bottom. `The back of your shirt is very
wet,' I pointed out, `if you spread it out on one of these rocks, it'll get
dry soon enough.'

	Paul took the hint, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, `Mmm, that
feels better,' he said, enjoying the sun on his pale skin, `you should take
yours off too.' Once the stove was lit and the kettle on, I followed his
lead and pulled my shirt off and spread it on a rock next to his. Paul had
wandered off, and was standing right at the top of the mound looking out
towards the horizon. `Look,' he said, `you can see the lakes, do you know
which one is Coniston?'

	`Should be off towards the South-West,' I answered, `I'll get the
compass.' I went back over to our temporary encampment, and dug the compass
out of my backpack. I also grabbed my camera, thinking to take a few
pictures from our vantage point.

	`Blimey, you're keen,' Paul said when he saw the camera; `we've got
a couple of days, haven't we?'

	`Oh yeah, but I thought I'd get a shot of the view from up here.' I
busied myself framing a landscape, ignoring Paul for the time being. We
were on the tallest of a series of small hills, each one about half a mile
apart and projecting out of the tree plantation, forming an irregular and
diminishing line leading down towards the lake about four miles away. The
top of our hill was quite bare apart from an irregular scattering of
boulders; the others all sported some sort of scrubby vegetation.

        When I'd taken my picture, I turned round to find Paul sitting with
his back against a rock, knees up and legs spread wide. From my position I
could see the white trim of his pants showing below his abbreviated shorts,
as no doubt he intended. I snapped a quick shot, and then moved closer for
a better angle; he carefully undid the button on his shorts and leaned
back, gently caressing his bulging crotch, looking straight into the camera
lens as he did so. After I'd taken a few more pictures, he undid the zip a
couple of inches, enough to reveal the waistband of his pants, and smiling
enigmatically, he slipped a couple of fingers in and began to caress the
tip of his by now very obvious erection. `Wow, that's great,' I said, dry
mouthed, `keep it coming, nice and slow now.' Even as I spoke, the kettle
began to whistle, and nothing, not even sex, can keep an Englishman from
his tea. With a sigh of regret for an opportunity lost, I put my camera
down, and went to make the tea.

	When I came back with the mugs of tea, Paul had stood up, and was
staring moodily off into the distance. He hadn't bothered to do up his
shorts, and was absent mindedly caressing his groin, `You know they made us
carry a mirror in case we got lost?' he asked elliptically.

	`Yes, why?' I asked.

	`I thought I saw someone flashing a mirror at me from one of the
other hilltops, that's all.'

	`Show me where,' I urged, full of curiosity.

	`Next but one, beside that bendy looking tree, just caught it out
of the corner of my eye, but I could have sworn there were a couple of
mirrors.'

	I gazed off in the direction Paul had suggested, but couldn't see
anything, if someone had really been signalling to us they wouldn't just
have tried the once. All thoughts of dramatic mountain rescues faded from
my thoughts. `Can't see anything,' I said, `now that you've had your tea,
how about we take a few more pics?'

	`Sure,' he answered, `shall I lose the shorts now?'

	`Yeah, why not, they're dead sexy, but we can always come back to
them.'  Paul turned away from me, and slowly slipped the shorts down, he
was wearing a pair of white cotton seamless briefs, that I recognised as
having once been mine. As he turned back towards me it was very evident
that the soft fabric was struggling to contain his erection. At that moment
I noticed two flashes of light in my peripheral vision and realised at once
what they meant. `Don't look now,' I said, `but we've got an audience.'

	`What d'you mean?'

	`Those flashes you saw, they came from the front lenses of a pair
of field glasses, someone's watching us from the top of that hill.'

	`Oh, right, so some perve is wanking off over there.'

	`That's about the whole of it, do you want to move on?'

	`Do I hell, let's give him a bit of a show.' With that, Paul jumped
up onto a boulder, and turning sideways on to our voyeur, pulled down the
front of his pants and grabbed his cock. `There you go matey,' he said, to
no-one in particular, `get a load of that.' I took a couple of pictures as
he masturbated in a very exaggerated fashion, leaning back to show his
prick off to its best advantage. `It's about time you got your shorts off
too,' he added, `give him his money's worth.'

	I didn't need much encouragement, the idea of showing off our
bodies in front of a totally unknown stranger was very exciting as was the
whole idea of sex in the open air, and my cock had been craving attention
for some time now. As I slipped my shorts down, Paul's eyes widened with
approval when he saw that I was wearing the skimpy nylon pants he had
chosen for me. `Good choice,' he said, `now play along with me and we'll
give this geezer a morning he won't forget in a hurry.'

	`Ok,' I said, `what did you have in mind?'

	`We'll do a few more pics, then I'll take it from there.' I picked
up my camera, and Paul turned his back to me; leaning forwards he put one
leg up on a rock and with one hand on the ground he pulled his cock out
through the leg hole of his pants with the other. After a few swift
strokes, he impatiently pulled the fabric to one side, allowing his balls
to come into view. Playfully, he ran his fingers along his crack, paying
special attention to the now denuded pucker of his anus. He stood up, and
carelessly pulled his pants right off, throwing them at me. His shaven cock
looked very large against his pale skin as he walked towards me, taking the
camera from my hands; he carefully placed it on the ground before suddenly
grabbing my hair and pushing me down onto my knees. `Eat it,' he whispered,
thrusting his distended prick towards my face. I needed no more
encouragement and grabbed his hot erection with both hands before feeding
it into my willing mouth. Surprisingly, his cock was still quite dry, and I
spent a pleasurable few moments delicately lubricating it with my tongue
before I was able to pull back the foreskin and give some serious attention
to his glans.

	Paul lurched back, dragging me with him, until his back was against
the largest of the boulders, taking care to ensure that we were at the most
advantageous angle for our voyeur. He leaned back against the sun warmed
rock with a comfortable sigh, as I continued to suck noisily on his
engorged prick. Now that he was comparatively immobile, I was able to reach
down between my legs and, sticking my backside out and hauling my pants to
one side, free my own rather neglected erection. Once again, taking care
that our audience had the best possible view, I began to masturbate myself
in a steady rhythm, matching that to the pace with which I was blowing
Paul.

	We continued our duet for longer than might have been thought
strictly necessary if we were actually performing, and until my
ministrations were rewarded with a salty splash of pre-cum. At which point
Paul gently pulled his cock out of my mouth and raising me to my feet,
indicated that I should take his place, leaning against the rock. I
complied, and leaned back, slowly massaging my cock, its' tip now dripping
with pre-cum too. Paul took hold of my wrist, disengaging me from my
efforts; lifting up my prick and tucking it back into my pants. Dancing
away from me, he snatched up my camera, and took a couple of shots of me,
my skimpy briefs stretched to the limit and showing a spreading damp stain
from the tip of my cock. He raised an eyebrow and winked encouragement to
me; closing my eyes, I leaned back and began to stroke my cock through the
silky fabric. Even though I was in a bit of an erotic reverie, I remained
conscious of the camera clicking away, until finally, I didn't notice any
more, and drifted off into a world of my own. Somewhere along the line I
must have pulled my cock out of my pants again, because, when I eventually
surfaced; Paul wasn't there, and I found myself leaning against the
boulder, cock in hand, masturbating gently.

	`Hey, hey, where are you?' I asked plaintively, `you've left me
here on my own to entertain our watcher.'

	`With you in a second,' his voice came from somewhere behind
me. True to his word, I heard the sound of his naked feet padding on the
grass and a moment later he appeared again. All became clear; somehow he
had managed to cram his bulging genitals into the royal blue Speedos we had
found in the lost property basket. They were a testament to the expansive
capability of nylon and lycra; his rock hard cock extending stiffly off to
one side and his balls swelling out the material below.

	`Hmm,' I said thoughtfully, once I was fully able to speak, `I
think Sir might need to try a bigger size, let me check the fitting.' Paul
obediently stepped closer and stood facing me; legs apart, and a naughty
smile on his lips. I tucked my cock away again and knelt down on the warm
grass once more; slowly I ran a hand up his inner thigh, right up to the
nylon gusset. Tracing the line where fabric met flesh, I stroked his butt
through the soft material whilst at the same time pressing my face against
his hot cock. Even though the Speedos were under a lot of pressure, I
carefully forced my finger under the taut fabric at the gusset and tested
the tension. `I think Sir might well need to remove these soon, before he
loses a limb. I'll just see how they fit all round before I offer you my
final opinion.' I stood up and walked slowly round him; his cute bottom
looked particularly appealing in its tight confinement and I spent a
pleasurable moment gently running my fingers over his firm flesh.

        I had genuinely forgotten about our audience until Paul coughed and
said, `this feels great, but probably isn't very exciting to watch.'

        `Oh yeah,' I started. `I'd forgotten. Let me take a couple of pics
of you, and then we can get on.' I picked up my camera, noting that there
wasn't much film left and took a couple of photos of Paul gazing into the
camera, absently rubbing his cock. Setting it carefully to one side, I
returned to the matter in hand. Placing my hands on Paul's shoulders, I
gently rotated him so that he faced in the direction of our hidden
audience. Pressing my stiffy up against the slippery material covering his
cheeks, I reached round his slim hips with both hands and caressed his
bulging erection.

        `Mmm, that feels good,' he murmured.

        I tucked my thumbs into the waistband of his Speedos on either side
of his hips and gently tugged; in order to assess the situation.

        `You're going to have to do better than that,' he said, `they
weren't that easy to get on.' A bit more boldly, I pulled the waistband
free of his body, as soon as I did so, his naked prick sprang free from its
confinement and jutted proudly out over the confining trunks. `Oh, that's
much better,' he said.

        `I'd better check it out, make sure it's alright still,' I
replied. Without changing my position, I took hold of his hot cock and
wanked it firmly, at the same time grinding my own erection against his
butt. `That all seems to be ok,' I said, eventually, `perhaps we should
lose the Speedos though.' I took hold of the waistband once more, and
kneeling down behind him, I slowly but firmly pulled them down. As he
stepped clear of them, I couldn't help noticing that there were little
indented lines all round his body where the taut fabric had cut into his
flesh. `Ok, what shall we do now?' I asked, `I'm aching to come.'

        `Me too,' he answered, `there's just one more thing we can do for
our perve, then I think it'll be time for the grand finale.'

        `Oh yeah, what did you have in mind?' I said, my curiosity roused.

        `Actually, you gave me the idea when you shaved me. If we're a bit
careful about the angle we can make it look to him as though I'm fucking
you up the arse.'

        `Wow, that's cool,' I said, `that'll blow his stack, if he hasn't
blown it already.' Suiting action to my words, I shuffled round in front of
Paul facing roughly towards our voyeur, and went down on all fours,
sticking my butt up in the air. I felt him move up behind me, his hand
caressing my cloth covered bottom and reaching between my legs to give some
attention to my balls. By way of an overture, he pressed his hard cock into
my crack, rubbing its tip and the skimpy nylon against my anus. Even though
I knew we were faking it, this still felt fantastic and I groaned in
appreciation. Paul pulled my pants to one side, and continued to rub his
prick up and down my now naked crack.

        `Time we were rid of these I think,' he said thoughtfully, and
pulled my pants right down. Now he really went to work, his long shaft
smooth and hot against my butt and his hairless balls occasionally brushing
against my thighs. Finally, he put both hands on my hips to steady himself
and pretended to fuck me, his cock, for the record, slipping down between
my legs where I was able to grasp it and enjoy the sensation of him
thrusting into my fist. `We'd better stop,' he said breathlessly, `or I'm
going to come.'

        `Ok,' I answered, and flopped forward onto the grass. Propping
myself up on one elbow, I saw another double flash of light that suggested
our voyeur was still with us. `Let's finish this off and get on our
way. How about a sixty-nine? He hasn't seen that yet.'

        `Yeah, great idea, although we'll need to pull out so he can see us
come.'

        Paul stretched out on the warm grass, carefully positioning his
body so that the watcher would be able to get the best possible view of the
action. His erect cock stood tall and purple against his pale skin and
hairless groin. I was past caring about the camera by now and knelt down
beside him, taking the opportunity to run my hands over his cock before
straddling his body and delicately taking the tip between my lips. At the
same time, I felt him begin to do the same for me, his tongue and lips
exploring my glans enthusiastically. I pulled my head back, exposing the
maximum length of his prick to the voyeuristic gaze, before engulfing as
much as I could into my willing mouth. A few repetitions and I was
beginning to taste the pre-cum, a feeling of hot anticipation welling up
from my balls indicated that I was well on the way too. Reluctantly
disengaging, I spoke; `I'm nearly there, and I can see that you are too,
shall we?'

        Without speaking he nodded and sat up; propping himself against the
warm boulder again he spread his legs wide allowing both the best access
and the best view of the action. I sat down alongside him, and adopted a
similar position, our thighs pressing together reminiscent of our minibus
trip earlier that morning. We each reached down and grasped the others'
slippery cock, I favoured slow steady strokes occasionally teasing the
purple tip with my forefinger, Paul opting for a contrasting style
featuring more speed and a looser grip. Whatever the technique they were
both working, I could feel the pressure building up and I could see beads
of sweat breaking out on Paul's forehead. `Won't be long now,' I grunted,
Paul didn't speak, but nodded his agreement.

        Suddenly, before we tipped over the point of no return, Paul
whispered; `I've an idea,' let go of me, and, reaching off to one side he
grabbed the royal blue Speedos from where they had been abandoned
earlier. He held them loosely in his hand, and gently folded them and his
hand around my cock, before resuming his rhythmic stroking. The sensation
was fantastic, I knew I was going to come, and I knew it was going to be
big. As my orgasm inexorably welled up, I felt my body starting to spasm
(the clue is in the sig, folks!) and my hand, still clasping Paul's rampant
cock, began to judder.

        `Oh-oh, here it comes,' I managed to say, before the first gobbet
of spunk erupted from my cock. A brief moment later, Paul let go too and
our jizz spurted out together, towards the sky and roughly in the direction
of our (I hope) transfixed watcher.

        We flopped back against the rock, exhausted, our thighs and legs
spattered with our mingled sperm, a few last dribbles welling up from the
tips of our gradually deflating cocks. I gently stirred a finger in a
little puddle of our combined spunk, and anointed his forehead in our
customary fashion, a moment later, he did the same to me. I picked up the
rather soggy Speedos and used them to mop the spunk off us as best as I
could.

        `We'd better find a stream, and get properly cleaned up later,' I
said, practically.

        `Fancy a skinny dip,' he replied, grinning.

        `Of course. What shall I do with these?' I asked, waving the now
saturated Speedos at him.

        `Let's leave them for Mr Perve,' he answered with a giggle, `he'll
probably be up here sucking the juices out of them before we're over the
next hill.'

        `Ok, that's a horny idea,' I said, `I'll leave him a note too.' We
got up, and gradually got dressed. Paul's white pants were fine, he hadn't
kept them on for that long, my skimpy nylon numbers, on the other hand were
sodden with my juices too. `Shall I leave him these as well?' I asked,
waving my pants at him, `I'm not putting them back on like this.'

        `No way,' he said, `I picked those out for you, put something else
on.'
        I rummaged in my back pack and came up with a pair of red cotton
y-fronts, my still semi-erect penis swung loosely and less constrained in
them. Paul wandered over, still dressed only in his white pants, and gave
me a friendly squeeze. `We really had better get on,' I said, `plenty of
opportunities to play later, after all, we've got the whole night too.'
Before we left, I scribbled out a note for our watcher which read as
follows; hope you enjoyed our little show as much as we enjoyed performing
for you, who knows if you'll ever see us again, but if you do, don't give
the game away and you never know your luck, you might get a repeat
performance.

         I folded the spunk soaked Speedos neatly, and placed them on the
boulder, where they were clearly visible, I tucked the note under them
before we made our way down the hill and off towards the lake. Munching on
the sandwiches we'd brought with us, we made good speed toward the water
and the possibility of a new adventure.

        I knew from our map that we had about a thirty-five mile walk to
accomplish, a relatively simple task for two healthy boys, so I figured
that we had plenty of time to stop and play along the way. Once we found
our way down to the body of water that we had seen from our vantage point,
the water sparkling blue and inviting in the warm sunshine. We needed no
encouragement, and without bothering to look around for strangers, we threw
down our backpacks, pulled off our clothes, ran laughing and naked across
the sand and jumped straight into the water. In retrospect this might not
have been too clever, especially as the water was freezing cold. We whooped
and hollered and splashed about like little kids until the icy water was
too much for us and we fled back onto the bank. Throwing our naked bodies
down on the warm sand, we basked like seals at the waters edge, dozing in
the gentle sunlight.

        When we eventually decided it was time to move on, I dug out the
Ordnance survey map and our compass. Paul was rather put out to discover
that we had been skinny dipping in a reservoir rather than one of the
lakes, but cheered up when I pointed out that we would be traversing at
least one other lake before we got back to Coniston. I didn't feel any need
to point out that Arctic Char (a rare, cold loving fish) could be caught in
some of the lakes, as I had no wish to discourage his new-found enthusiasm
for nude bathing.

        The rest of the day was a simple slog; we walked on through the
relatively featureless plantation, pausing only to check the compass every
now and again. I hadn't any thoughts about where we were going to stop and
make camp for the night, in truth, although I was very turned on by the
idea, I was also slightly apprehensive. Up to this point I had never slept
with another person other than those times when you crawl into bed with
your parents, and I had certainly never slept with another boy. I was,
however, quite sure that I wanted to sleep out somewhere high up, so we
could see the stars (if it wasn't cloudy). There were a couple of likely
spots on our route, so I navigated for them, and eventually, by the time
the light was beginning to fail, we made camp on a high crag, overlooking
the lakes and the featureless sea of conifers that we had been trudging
through all day.

        Paul was in high spirits, and put the tent up while I got the
primus going and set about producing some hot food. It was a clear night,
and in the absence of any street lighting, the stars blazed down on
us. Even Paul, who was not a romantic boy, was moved by their beauty. Once
we had eaten, we took our mugs of tea and sat together, watching the skies.

        `I guess we should get to bed soon,' I said, `it's not like there's
anything else to do.'

        `Yeah,' he agreed, `I've laid out the sleeping bags, but I wondered
if you wanted to zip them together?'

        `Yes, let's, it's not as if we're unfamiliar with each others'
bodies now is it.'

        `True.'

        `I think we should undress out here, there's no room in the tent,
and there's plenty of light under the stars.' Paul didn't say anything, but
slowly got up, and began to remove his clothing. I looked on, transfixed,
as he stripped down to his white cotton pants; the cold starlight on his
pale body transformed him from a normal boy to some sort of exotic wood
spirit. I could feel the stirring in my crotch as I watched Paul pottering
about, gathering his discarded clothing into a bundle. Quickly, I stripped
off down to my y-fronts and made a neat pile of my clothes. Paul, in the
meantime had wandered away from the tent, and was standing, legs apart,
looking out over the dark woods. `What are you thinking?' I asked.

        `I was wondering if our Mr Perve was out there somewhere.'

        `Nah, he'll be tucked up in bed with Mrs Perve, dreaming about us,'
I said, to comfort him.

        `Yeah, and she won't be getting any tonight,' he giggled.

        `Well, if anyone comes near us tonight, we're going to hear it.'

        `There's just one thing,' he said slowly.

        `Yeah, what?' I asked.

        `I think my pubes are growing back already, have a feel.'

        I didn't need any more encouragement, and slipped my hand down the
front of his pants, it was true; there was a hint of stubble there. Just to
be on the safe side, I stroked his cock and moved on to cup his balls,
before exploring the area between his legs and up his crack. His cock
twitched in appreciation, and I could feel it beginning to grow as I
continued my investigation. `You're right,' I agreed, eventually, `oh well,
nothing we can do about it now, I'll just have to spruce you up in the
morning. Lucky I brought my razor with me.' We did our normal ablutions,
and as it was beginning to get chilly, we dived into the tent, bundling
into the joined up sleeping bags as though we'd done this a thousand
times. `Are you ok about this?' I asked Paul as we wriggled about in search
of a comfortable spot.

        `Ok about what?' he asked drowsily.

        `Us sleeping together like this, it doesn't feel just like having a
wank, seems a bit more grown up than that.'

        `Nah, it's just sex, we won't want to do it any more when we've
both got girlfriends. It's not as though it means anything. Anyway, I don't
know about you but I'm pooped, time we got some sleep.' With that he turned
his back on me. With a mental sigh I rolled over and prepared to sleep, I
had long ago realised that trying to unravel Paul's mental processes was a
futile task, he had convinced himself that what we were doing was in some
way heterosexual and that was that. I was very happy to go along for the
ride, whatever he thought he was doing.

        The combination of a lot of exercise, physical and sexual, and a
great deal of fresh air meant that I soon fell soundly asleep; I think Paul
passed out the moment he turned away. I may well have dreamed, but if I did
I have no recollection. I was rudely awoken by the sound of an RAF jet
practising low-level flying along the valley. During the night, Paul had
wrapped himself around me, and was lying with one arm over me and his hand
jammed down my pants loosely clasping my erect penis. Although he was still
sleeping, I could feel his early morning stiffy pressing against my
bottom. Paul might have convinced himself that it was just sex, but his
body seemed to be disagreeing with him.

	I lay still, enjoying the sensation of his warm body pressing up
against me, this was actually the first time I had spent the night with
somebody who was not a member of my family, and I liked it. Carefully, I
reached back and began to caress his erection through the soft material of
his pants. He moaned quietly, and rolled over slightly making it much
easier for me to get access. Although he was plainly still asleep, his grip
tightened on my cock and we held that position, gently masturbating each
other for some length of time. It was only my increasingly urgent need to
pee that forced me to get up, I reluctantly let go of him, and rolled away;
Paul murmured in protest and let go of me, still not showing any signs of
awakening yet.

        When I opened up the tent flap and poked my head out, the weather
wasn't looking too great; the trees were all wreathed in mist and there was
a light drizzle falling. It was still stupidly early, and so far all the
days had begun like this. Without bothering to put on any more clothes, I
strolled across the grass towards the edge of the crag, and pulling out my
still hard cock I sent a steaming yellow jet of piss arching into
space. Once I was done, I shook off the drips and made my way back to camp,
figuring that the sounds and smells of breakfast might awaken the
slumbering boy. I lit the primus stove and put the kettle on; tea would be
a good place to start.

        Down below our crag there was a small and energetic stream plunging
over the rocky ground, the evening before as we made camp I had spotted
where it widened into a suitable pool for our morning ablutions. I crawled
back into the tent and shook the recumbent Paul; `wake up, time to rise and
shine.' Paul grumbled and moaned, but eventually surfaced; he still had
remnants of his morning erection and looked ever so cute and young as he
rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His pants, creased and crumpled after a
nights sleep were bulging attractively, the fine fabric enhancing the
outline of his manhood.

        `Time we got washed up,' I said.

        `Is there any tea?' he asked.

        `Kettle's on, come on, by the time we've got cleaned up, it'll be
boiling.' I have to say that washing in an icy stream, when there's a fine
drizzle falling, and the sun hasn't yet managed to break through the
clouds; rates as an experience I wouldn't care to repeat that often. I
grant you it was invigorating, but don't believe all that bullshit about
bathing in mountain streams; we threw off our pants, jumped in the water,
shrieked and jumped straight out again. `Ouch,' I said, once I'd finally
got my breath back, `what's good for Prince Charles doesn't have to be good
for us. I don't know about you, but I'd rather sort out your stubble when
I'm not shivering with cold. So let's just wash up and have breakfast.'

        `Sounds good to me,' he answered, `I'm freezing my tits off here.
'
        We washed as best we could, and scampered naked back up to our
camp. The kettle was boiling cheerfully, a plume of steam drifting across
the campsite.

        `Look,' Paul said, pointing.

        `Where?' I answered, somewhat bewildered as I was making the tea.

        `We've had a visitor, look at the tent.'

        Hanging from the tent pole was a small package wrapped in brown
paper and tied up with string. There were no signs of anybody, or any
tracks from our visitor. I padded over to the tent and lifted the parcel
free.

        `What is it?' Paul asked, with the careless excitement of the
young.

        `I don't know, and I'm not sure how it got here either, pass me a
knife would you?' Inside the neatly wrapped package was a small folded
sheet of paper, and two small packets wrapped in tissue paper. The note,
for such it was, read as follows: Thanks for giving me such a good show,
boys. Here's are a couple of little presents for you, I look forward to
seeing you in action again. I'd love to see some of the pictures you take
some time; you're obviously having a great time. Best wishes, the perve. PS
I can lip read!

        `Wow,' Paul breathed, `he's been in the camp.'

        `Yeah, and he must be nearby now.' Strangely enough neither of us
felt at all threatened by the presence of our voyeur, indeed, I could see
Paul getting hard again and I felt strangely turned on as well.

        `What's he given us?' he urged.

        `Let's have a look,' I said and took up the packet. The first thing
that it contained was a box containing some rolls of film and a small
camera; I raised an eyebrow and then opened up the rest of the
package. Carefully wrapped up were two pairs of pants, not the sort of
items that were easily available to a teenage boy, these were made by HOM
of France out of some very sheer microfibre and were very minimal in
cut. One pair was white and the other a purple colour. Paul snatched them
out of my hands and stood up, his erection bobbing in front of my face.

        `I'll have the purple ones,' he said, and unfolded them,
preparatory to pulling them on. `Here,' he said, shocked, `they don't have
any back.' Indeed they didn't, they were what we now know as a g string,
with just a fine cord running down between the butt cheeks from the skinny
waistband. Paul pulled them on very carefully; the sheer fabric was very
stretched but able to contain his erect cock. He stepped away from me and
posed, thrusting his crotch out, before swivelling his hips to expose his
butt to my gaze; `What d'you think?'

        `Just take a look,' I answered, indicating my own firm erection,
`how do they feel? Chuck us mine over, would you?'

        `Almost as though I've nothing on, but better than that.'

        I stood up to put my pair on, they weren't exactly the same cut,
with a broader waistband, the fabric was very sheer and, as I discovered,
semi-transparent. Paul was right; they almost felt like you weren't wearing
anything at all. I stroked my erection through the soft material, it felt
wonderful. I could see that Paul was equally taken with the sensation as he
too was exploring his cock in their skimpy covering.

	`I think the camera is a big hint he'd like us to put on another
show,' I said, `I don't know about you, but I'm game, just not at the
moment, it's too cold. We should take some pics for him too, since he's
given us a few rolls of film.'

	`Yeah, let's, I reckon these are pulling pants, no girl will be
able to resist me if she finds out I'm wearing them.'

	`Ok, let's have breakfast, and then we can move out, we should make
it to the shore at Windermere by lunchtime, and we can find somewhere round
there to do it.'

	We carefully took off our new pants, sexy and fun though they
undoubtedly were, they were not really designed with hiking in mind. I sat
down and had a look at the new camera, unlike my SLR it was a compact,
designed for easy snapping, but with a built in flash and a power
winder. After I'd loaded a film I gave Paul the camouflage pattern y-fronts
to wear and for myself I went for the string mesh cotton pants that Paul
had modelled a couple of days before. I felt we owed it to our benefactor
not to dress until we needed to, and took some pictures as we pottered
around the camp, munching our bacon butties. I was sure he'd be watching us
from somewhere nearby.

	When we came to break camp, I wrote him a brief note; Thanks for
the presents, we'll see what we can do for you. We're heading for
Windermere and we'll try to find somewhere on the shore this lunchtime. I
took a stick, split the top with my penknife, and wedged the note into
place, jamming the stick into the ground where one of our tent-posts had
been. With that we shouldered our backpacks and made our way down off the
crag.

	As we tramped through the featureless pine plantation, my mind was
full of thoughts, curiously, in those innocent days, it never occurred to
us that we might be doing anything remotely foolish or dangerous. In these
paranoid times we would have been screaming `stranger danger' and running
for the police at the first opportunity. Instead, we both felt a benevolent
glow towards our unseen watcher. Paul had a penchant for risk and liked to
show off his body, I hadn't previously realised that exposing myself to an
audience could turn me on like it did, so I was busy planning our little
performance for that lunchtime.

	It took us about three hours to get to the lake; Windermere, for
those who don't know, is the largest of the English lakes, about 11 miles
long and varying in width from a quarter mile to a mile and a half, it is a
hub for water based activity, from sailing to water ski-ing. Our path had
brought us down to the waterside at the northern end, here we had seen our
first signs of human life as we had to cross the A591 road to get to our
destination. Where we ended up, the pine planting carried on close to the
waters edge, leaving a narrow strip of white sand before the water's
edge. Not, on the face of it, an ideal place for us, as the beach was
completely open and exposed to view from passing tourist steamers and
weekend sailors. What the hell though, we were both hot and sticky from our
long tramp, and the water was blue and inviting.

	`Shall we have a swim here?' I asked.

	`Yeah, I'm boiling,' Paul said. We dumped our stuff on the sand and
began to strip off, just as we'd got down to our pants another steamer came
round the nearby headland, its deck crowded with tourists. They waved to us
and pointed, Paul jumped up and down, waving back, his genitals bouncing in
the loose nylon of his y-fronts. I felt strangely uncomfortable, what we
had done the day before had been curiously intimate, a compact between the
three of us. Here we were on a bigger stage, under a big sky and we had no
control over who was watching.

	`I'm going to put my Speedos on,' I said to Paul, `there's too many
people watching.'

	`Ok,' he answered, `I'll put mine on too.' This was a bit of an
empty promise: there was nothing modest about Paul's Speedos as I have
already described. Rather than struggle with towels, we just dropped our
pants and hauled on our Speedos before charging down the beach and into the
water. The cold water was very refreshing after the heat of our walk, and
we were full of energy. `Let's swim out a bit,' Paul said, `see if there's
somewhere a bit less public.'

	We swam out for a couple of hundred yards, and looked back towards
the shore. We were in luck, there was a little inlet surrounded with
deciduous trees just half a mile further up the road. Not only that, but
the steeply rising ground behind it meant that one would have to be very
determined, or know the terrain, to overlook it. It was obvious to both of
us that our watcher fitted both these categories.

	`That might be the place,' I said to Paul, pointing it out, `shall
we head off that way?'

	`Ok,' he replied, and turned back towards the shore.

	As it was warm and sunny, we just put our hiking boots and
unbuttoned shirts back on, stuffing the rest of our clothes into our
backpacks and set off along the shoreline towards our destination. I lagged
back a little because I was enjoying the vision of Paul's bottom in his
pale gold Speedos, it twinkled at me, and I could feel myself getting
stiffer and stiffer as I walked along. When we found our inlet, it was
perfect, a little headland with trees curved round to protect a small sandy
beach littered with boulders. The only dampener was a small blue rowing
boat pulled up on the beach, oars neatly stowed inside. There was no other
evidence of human life, no tracks, or pathways out. It looked like it had
just been abandoned there.

	We unpacked the cooking stuff and put the kettle on, Paul had taken
off his shirt again and was lounging around on the sand in his gold
Speedos, he had obviously spotted my erection, but said nothing. Instead,
he adjusted his position so that his crotch was very prominent and idly
scratched where his pubes used to be.

	`Are you game for another picture session?' I asked.

	`Yeah, of course I am,' he replied, and I could see that he was
starting to swell at the thought of it. `I need a shave first, my stubble's
itching like mad.'

	`Really, let me see.' I made my way over to where Paul was lying,
and kneeling beside him, I took hold of the waistband of his Speedos and
carefully pulled them down, Paul obligingly arching his back to lift his
bottom off the sand. He was right, on close inspection there was already a
dark shadow where his pubes were growing back. I ran my hand over his skin,
the stubble was quite noticeable. `Lift your legs up,' I asked, and when
he'd done so, I was able to feel under his balls and, boldly parting his
cheeks, around his crack. `Hmm,' I said, `it's really only the pubes that
are growing back so fast, your balls and your crack are still really
smooth. So, a quick shave is all that's needed.'

	`Oh,' he said, sounding disappointed.

	`What?' I asked.

	`I liked the feeling when you shaved me, I was hoping you'd do it
all again.'

	`Of course I will,' I said, `but on a rock by a lake is probably
not the best place for it.' Paul stood up and stretched luxuriously in
front of me, his cock was only semi-hard, unlike mine, and I put out a hand
and gave it a friendly stroke. `Come on then, let's do it.' I had spotted a
large flat rock by the waterline, and indicated that he should lie down
while I fetched my razor and shaving cream. The water in the little inlet
was clear and warm, it was fed by a little stream, but was shallow enough
for the sun to keep the temperature up. Kneeling down in the water
alongside Paul, I splashed water over his groin, and rubbed a little cream
onto him. His cock responded to this attention by swelling, and after
carefully spreading the foam round his crotch I took hold of it with one
hand, keeping it out of the way of the razor in my other. I very carefully
shaved away the stubble, running my fingers through the foam to feel for
areas I might have missed, with my other soapy hand I was able to slowly
masturbate his now fully erect penis. Paul was lying there, his eyes
closed, and enjoying the attention. `Right,' I said, surreptitiously giving
my own aching erection a little attention of its own, `off you go and
rinse, and I'll see if you need another going over.'

	With a theatrical groan, Paul got up and waded into the pool until
the water reached his crotch, then he carefully rinsed the last of the
shaving foam off his groin before turning back to shore. As he made his way
back, I saw him stop, break into a smile, and start giggling. `What's so
funny,' I asked.

	Pointing at my crotch, he said, `you should have washed your hands,
I can see what you've been doing.' I looked down, the bulging front of my
black Speedos was covered in white shaving foam where I had absently been
pleasuring myself.

	I blushed, `Oops, you've caught me out. What can I say?'

	`Nothing,' he replied, `you'd better wash it off, it looks like
come.'

	`No it doesn't,' I replied, wading out to join him in the pool `you
know very well what come looks like.' I sat down in the shallow water to
soak my Speedos, and stood up again to rinse them.

	`Here, let me help you,' Paul said obligingly, and kneeling down in
the water he began to rub the foam free of my Speedos. `Hmm,' he said,
`you're horny,' as he gave special attention to my rigid cock.

	`Yeah, and if you carry on doing that, you're going to make me come
in my pants,' I said hoarsely.

	`So soon? Where's your staying power?'

	`Dunno, this really turns me on, don't know why. Although the first
time I ever spunked for real I was wearing black Speedos.'

	`Oh well,' he said, giving my bottom a pat, `now you know how I
felt when you were shaving me. You'll have to tell me the story some time,
you're all clean now, by the way.'

	`Let's save ourselves for the pics,' I said, regretfully, because I
really wanted to come. It had been quite an erotically charged morning, one
way and another. `The kettle's boiling, time we made lunch.' I sloshed
through the water, and up to our stuff, as I poured the boiling water into
our tea mugs Paul joined me, still naked.

	`You've not checked me for stubble,' he pouted, thrusting his still
erect prick towards my face.

	`So I haven't,' I replied, `I'll do it now, stand still, legs
apart.' I examined him in minute detail, both by eye and by hand, I seemed
to be getting the hang of this shaving lark, as his skin was smooth and
silky, with no nicks.

	`Mmm, that feels good,' he murmured, `shame you've no lotion.'

	`Sorry mate, didn't realise that your hair would grow back so
fast. Still, a little air and sunshine will have to do for now. Here's your
tea, by the way.'

	Looking around our little bay, I realised it had been used as a
campsite before; there was a ring of blackened stones where a fire had been
made, and the marks of a tent were plainly visible among the trees. Leaving
Paul sitting on the sand, legs splayed out to get the sun on his crotch, I
wandered off to gather some fire wood, as it had occurred to me that if we
lit a fire, then our audience would know where to find us. Like all boys we
liked playing with fire, and we soon had a good one crackling in the ring
of stones, the dry timber only gave off a little smoke, and that rose
straight up into the airless sky.

	Lounging naked by the fireplace, Paul looked at me and asked; `What
are we going to do then? We've got our fancy pants, but what's the story?'

	`I've given it a lot of thought,' I said, `and there is something
that we haven't done yet.'

	`Oh, yeah,' he said, looking worried, `you know I won't take it up
the arse.'

	`No, not that,' I said, `I meant that we haven't done any pics
together.'

	`There's a good reason for that, dumb-dumb,' he said, `someone has
to hold the camera.'

	`Ah well, that's where you're wrong,' I said cheerfully, `we can
wedge the new camera somewhere, and use my long cable release, then we can
do some close ups with my camera.'

	`Ok,' he said, brightening up, `let's get on then.'

	`What have you got to put on?' I asked.

	`I found a white t-shirt and some cream coloured canvas trousers in
the clothing box, what about you?'

	`Short sleeve shirt, tight black cotton drainpipes. I think we
should get dressed out of sight, that'll make it more sexy.'

	`Out of sight of where though?' he asked.

	`Good question, I reckon our pervy friend will be somewhere in that
headland overlooking the inlet, so we can get dressed in the trees. Here's
what I think we should do for a story; I'm the photographer, you're the
model, and we're doing an underwear shoot.'

	`No surprises so far,' he muttered sarcastically.

	`We do a couple of pairs of pants without your getting too excited,
then we get to the pulling pants and you get very turned on, as I do. You
notice that I'm getting horny and undress me and we get it on together.'

	`Sounds good to me.' Paul stood up and stretched, `what do you want
me to start in?'

	`If we start with the camouflage y-fronts, you can surprise me with
something new.'

 	Paul smiled, and pulled on the Y-fronts, `I think we should do this
like one of those beach fashion shoots,' he said.

	`What do you mean?' I asked, he was being creative, which was
unusual, but definitely to be encouraged.

	`Some pics on the sand, and posing among the rocks, then maybe some
wading in the water, lots of nice reflections and so on,' his voice trailed
away, he had never commented much on the images we created together. Maybe
it was because he lacked confidence or I was being too dominant. Suddenly I
felt awful and went over and put my arm round his skinny shoulders, `that's
great,' I said, giving him a hug, `just don't get too excited, remember the
sub-plot.'

	`Yeah,' he replied, brightening up.

	`Ok, let's take some pics then,' I said, giving him a friendly pat
on his nylon covered bottom, `just give me a minute to change into my
clothes, you could have a look round for our first location while I get
ready.' I grabbed my chosen costume and ducked behind some trees to change,
this was nothing to do with modesty, after all; what was to hide. I was
trying to create an air of mystery for our watcher, assuming of course that
he had managed to find us. I had already forgotten how sexy the g-string
made me feel, the combination of near nakedness and silky smooth
containment was very exciting, especially as my drainpipes were pretty
tight. I was already beginning to stiffen up, the lightweight cotton
unequal to the task of concealing my erection, more or less as I had
intended. I had loaded both cameras with film, my plan was to do a few
establishing pics of both of us, using the timer or the cable release, then
abandon that camera and just take pics with mine, before setting up a
location where Paul and I could perform together using the new camera and
its power winder to its full advantage.

 	When I emerged, Paul was sitting on a rock, knees tucked up and his
arms wrapped round them, `it's not fair,' he said grumpily.

	`What isn't?' I replied.

	`You said I shouldn't get hard, but whatever I think, I can't help
it.' He unfolded from his position and it was true; he was sporting a fine
stiffy, not a full-on hard on, but a `look at me I'm ready for action'
erection.

	`Don't worry,' I replied, `that looks really good, probably
wouldn't do for a fashion magazine, but this is fantasy after all.' I had
located my improvised tripod, and with the aid of a few rocks I had
securely wedged the new camera into place. My first pictures were to
establish the storyline, thereafter it would all be pics of Paul in various
locations. `Ok, come over here,' I ordered. Paul obediently walked over and
stood in front of me. My first pics were of me and him together, my
pointing out various locations and his responding to them. Then I took a
few pictures of me kneeling down and adjusting his pants; tweaking the fit,
smoothing the waistband, making sure that they were smooth and even across
his bottom. All the time ignoring the impressive bulge that was bowing out
the front of his pants. I finally stood up and took a couple of pics with
me lining up a shot with my camera, carefully angling my body so that my
own hard on would be visible too. `Right,' I said, `that's enough of that,
let's just do some pics of you now. Remember, no hands!'

	He laid down in the sand, legs up, knees apart, as if sunbathing. I
took a few pictures standing over him, including the classic shot with the
photographer's shadow in. Then I got down low next to him, poking my camera
lens between his legs to get a close up image of the taut nylon. The
tenting effect of his erection had pulled the fabric away from his crotch,
and there was a tantalising hint of his hairless balls visible in the
gap. `Ok, stretch, and then slowly roll over,' I asked from my near
horizontal position, `try not to kick the camera.' Paul slowly arched his
back, lifting his butt clear of the sand and I took several shots as he
thrust his crotch upwards, then he carefully rolled onto his side and then
onto his front, once again spreading his legs to give me a clear shot of
his butt and his balls. I brushed the fine sand off his bottom, maybe
spending a little longer on the task than I actually needed to. Once I was
satisfied that I had the pictures I wanted, I patted his bottom and said;
`We can move on now.'

	`Good,' he replied, getting up, `that was torture, it felt so horny
just lying still with the sun on my back, and your hand on my bum. What
shall we do now?'

	`I think we'll do the wading in the pool shot, and then we'll be
done with those pants.' I went down to the waterside and positioned myself
on the big rock that had previously served as our shaving station, Paul
waded out into the pool until the water came up to his thighs and posed for
me. The reflection of his erection made it seem even bigger, these were
definitely not the kind of underwear shots we knew from the catalogues.

	`Are you done now?' he called out.

	`I guess so, unless you have any ideas?' I replied.

	`How about this?' he said, and sat down in the water briefly. As he
arose from the water, his pants clung tightly to his body, the saturated
nylon revealing every contour of his rigid penis and, when he twirled
round, the twin globes of his butt too.

	`That's fantastic,' I said, suddenly dry mouthed, `do it again so I
can get the water dripping off your balls, then maybe a shot of you running
out of the water.' He obligingly did it again, and then came charging out
of the water and stood dripping in front of me.

	`What now?' he demanded.

	`Let's try your other pants,' I said, `I've run out of film and
need to reload. Unless you've got any bright ideas, of course.'

	`Actually, I did have an idea, but it's a bit kinky.'

	`Oh yes,' I said, suddenly interested.

	`It came to me while I was standing in the water, it felt like I'd
pissed myself, and I need a pee, so I thought it might be quite sexy if I
peed my pants.'

	`Hmm,' I said, `why not, we're covering all the bases here, and
what's another pair of wet pants. It won't show in the ones you've got on
now cos they're wet already, what else did you bring?'

	`I've got some more white cotton ones?'

	`They'll be good, off you go and put them on.' Paul scampered off,
and I reloaded my camera, he returned a few moments later wearing a very
small tight pair of white cotton pants. The modesty panel was gone, and his
cock was clearly visible, dressing off to the left and outlined under the
fabric.

	`Where shall we do it?' he asked, plainly excited. I too was quite
turned on, although I hadn't expected to be.

	`Not in the water, or the tea might taste a bit funny.' He giggled,
I could always make him laugh, `I know, you could be climbing on that big
rock over there, and suddenly you can't hold it in any more.'

	`Cool, let's do it, I'm busting.' Suiting action to his words, Paul
ran along the sand, and over to the pink sandstone boulder that I had
suggested. I took a couple of pics as he climbed up; his tightly confined
bottom sticking out as he ascended and giving me occasional flashes of his
balls as he moved his legs into a better position. When he had reached the
top, about five feet above me, he turned towards me; `Are you ready?
Because I can't hold it much longer.'

	`Yeah, I'm ready when you are.'

	He turned his whole body to face me; legs apart, with both hands
clutching at his dick as if trying to stop the inevitable. Suddenly, a
little spreading yellow stain appeared at the tip of his cock, with a look
of relief he rubbed at it. A moment later the stain began to spread, the
squirt turned into a jet and his pants started to fill up with pee. The
yellow stream gushed into his pants and began to cascade through the
saturated material, pouring down his legs and dripping off his balls. There
didn't seem to be an end to it, the poor boy must really have been
desperate. The stream of piss darkened the porous sandstone as it splashed
down over the rock face. Finally the flood slackened, and he stood there,
pants soaked and dripping, a look of relief and triumph on his face. He
squatted down, pulled the fabric to one side, allowing his cock to flop
out, and taking it in hand he shook off the last few drops of urine.

	`How was that?' he asked, `Sexy?'

	`Hmm, a bit full on, not really my thing, but definitely a bit of a
turn-on. I wonder what our Mr Perve made of it?'

	Paul tucked himself back into his pants and scrambled down off the
rock. `Oh well, at least I've tried it,' he said, sounding disappointed,
`I'd better rinse these out,' and headed back towards the inlet. I
followed, taking a few pictures of the aftermath, as he first washed
himself off wearing the pants, then took them off and swooshed them through
the water. His long and hairless cock unconfined at last, jiggling as he
worked. I spread his other wet pants on a sunny rock to dry, then when he
emerged with the others, I wrung them out and added them to the others.

	`I've run out of pants,' Paul said, standing naked next to me,
`should we do the main event now?'

	`Not yet, I've half a roll of film left in each camera, we should
do something else first, haven't you got anything?'

	`I know,' he said, `I brought something else from the lost clothes
box, I'll try that. Wait there.'

	I was intrigued, he was really being creative today, I rubbed
reflectively on my erection while I waited for him to return. When Paul
came back he wasn't wearing much at all, he had brought a transparent lime
green silk scarf, and improvised himself a form of covering by wrapping it
round his waist, passing an end through his legs and tying it at the
waist. It certainly didn't conceal very much; the sheer silk was very see
through in the direct sunlight.

	`That's really good,' I said, `we can do a few pics over here, then
move over into the rocks for a few close ups.' Once again, I took some
pictures using the cable release, as I adjusted Paul's scarf to my
satisfaction. I undid the strip of fabric that passed through his legs and
retied it, pulling the fine material into his crack rather than loose as he
had had it.

	Putting my hand up between his legs, I massaged his genitals
through the fine silk. `Mmm, that feels lovely,' Paul said, `does this mean
I'm allowed to be horny now?'

	`Yes, I reckon so,' I answered, feeling pretty horny myself.

	`Oh good,' he said. As I stood up he put his hand on my erection,
`I guess we'd better unleash this soon,' he smiled.

	`Yeah, in a minute, let's use up these films first.' We posed
together, Paul tracing the outline of my cock with a finger, and my hand
resting lightly on his scarcely confined tumescence, and I carried on
taking pics until the film ran out. `Ok, let's finish the other film,' I
said, leading him over to the rocky end of the shore, `I know, let's use
the rowing boat.'

	We went over to the boat, and I took some pictures of Paul bending
over the bows as if about to push it into the water. As he climbed in, he
started, and grabbed a piece of paper that neither of us had noticed. It
was another note from Mr Perve; congratulations boys, you've found another
one of my secret places, I hope you enjoy yourselves here as much as I have
done while watching you play. The boat is yours to use to cross the lake,
that should save you about four or five hours walking round the
shoreline. When you get to the other side, just leave it tied up in the
little marina. If you were going to leave me any photos, just leave the
film cans in the camp and I will find them, the camera is a gift from me.

	`What does he mean, another secret place?' I wondered out loud.

	`Who knows,' Paul replied, `but he's obviously on our side, and a
boat ride into the bargain!'

	`Yeah, that's good, we might yet be first back to the centre
tomorrow morning. Shall we carry on? I've only got a few shots left on this
roll.'

	`Ok, ` he said. He leaned back in the boat, hand resting gently on
his cock through the fine fabric, slowly he began to stroke it, running his
fingertips up and down his rigid column, all the time looking directly into
the camera lens. Gradually the scarf slipped from its insecure anchorage at
his waist, and his erection was free once more.

	`Try wrapping the silk round your hand, like you did for me with
the Speedos,' I urged, `it feels fabulous.'

	Paul obediently followed my instructions and wanked into the
scarf. `You're right,' he croaked, `it feels great.' I could see that he
was getting really turned on, the silk was beginning to darken with the
first few spots of pre-cum.

	`You'd better hold off,' I said, alarmed that he might actually
come, `I'm out of film.'

	With a look of regret, Paul left off his activities, and stripping
off his scarf/loincloth he jumped into the pool and splashed about for a
bit, presumably trying to lessen the risk of his actually coming. I busied
myself reloading the cameras and resetting the position of the compact, in
readiness for the main event. I had selected an area of the sandy shore
which was open and overlooked by the headland, and yet secluded from the
lake. There was also a large flat rock, conveniently placed inline with the
small trees, into which I managed to wedge the little camera. `Hadn't you
better go and get your clothes on?' I shouted to Paul, who was still
cavorting in the water.

	`Yeah, yeah,' he called back, `keep your hair on.' He splashed
noisily out of the pool and vanished into the trees again. When he
returned, he was wearing a very tight white t-shirt that showed every
developing muscle in his torso, this was tucked into a pair of cream
coloured canvas beach trousers, that fitted snugly at his waist. The legs
were cut more generously than my tight black drainpipes, and I could see
that his semi-erect cock had a little more freedom than mine. `What d'you
think?' he asked, anxious for approval.

	`I think Mr Perve will be creaming his kecks in a minute, if he
hasn't done already.' I replied.

	`Where shall we start?'

	Rather than talk him through, I steered him in front of the camera,
and picked up my SLR. I handed him the end of the cable release, saying;
`You can take a few with this, while I am photographing you. If you let me
know, I'll try and get into a good pose.'

	`Ok,' he said, nervously, Paul wasn't a confident photographer.

	`First off, I want you to give me a few poses, as you are, then
very gradually start to lose the clothes. This is all a big tease, and our
story line is that you are turning me on. Which, as you can see, you are
doing anyway.' This was familiar territory to Paul, although if he felt
anything like me, the location and the circumstances added hugely to the
eroticism. He stood sideways on to me, and slowly ran a hand over the front
of his trousers, where his burgeoning stiffy was beginning to show. I moved
in for a close up of the hand as he stroked his cock, and heard the click
of the other camera as I knelt down. `Let me see some arse now,' I
said. Obediently he twisted round, and bent forwards, pushing his bottom
towards the camera lens, he slowly slid his hands down his legs, until he
grasped his ankles and looked back at me through the triangle he had
created. I reached out and gently rubbed his groin from behind, his
erection was very hard now, and filling out his trouser leg. `Get a pic of
me touching you up,' I said, trying hard to concentrate. I waited until I
heard the click before I stood up and encouraged Paul to do the
same. Standing behind him, and pressing my own aching cock against his
butt, I slipped my hand down across the front of his trousers, following
the rigid outline of his prick along his thigh. He'd got the idea by now,
and I heard the camera rattle off a couple of shots.

	Resting my chin on Paul's shoulder, I reached round his hip, and
slowly unzipped his fly. Equally slowly, I slid my hand in through the
opening and felt the soft material of his pants. He leaned back against me
as I explored a little further down, just reaching the hot shaft of his
dick, `Ok, time for you to lie down I think,' I said, regretfully pulling
my hand free. Paul sank languorously to his knees, his fly gaping, I
snatched a picture before he settled back comfortably into the sand. `Let's
have a little more,' I asked, and Paul obliged by carefully unbuttoning the
top button, revealing the purple fabric of his g string. I knelt down again
beside him, to get the close up, as his hand stroked at his erection
through the canvas of his trousers. I placed my hand on top of his, and
together we slowly caressed his rigid cock. I had turned sideways on to
him, my own stiffy very apparent in my tight black drainpipes. In order to
relieve the pressure, I undid my top button, slid my zip down a little and
eased my dick into a more comfortable position. Paul, of course, chose to
take a picture at the moment when I had my hand in my pants.

	`I think you could lose the trousers now, but try not to show that
you're wearing a g string,' I could practically hear the cogs whirring as
he tried to work that one out, `Don't worry, I'll help you, just make sure
you get a few pics while I do it.' I added. I took hold of the waistband of
his trousers and, as he lifted his bottom off the ground, I carefully slid
them down. The fine fabric of his HOM pants was stretched taut by his
raging erection. I snapped a couple of shots of him as he lay there, still
wearing the tight white t shirt in contrast to the purple material of his
new pants. His arms stayed by his side, and his eyes were closed, until a
hand crept to his crotch and began to massage his cock as it distended the
material.

	I knelt down alongside him, and took a couple of very close-up
shots of his fingers sliding over his glans, there was already a spreading
dark spot of pre-cum beginning to show through. `Maybe the t-shirt should
go?' I asked, anxious to move things along a little, and more than a little
keen to get my own kit off. He sat up, and stripped the t-shirt off slowly,
as I clicked away.

	`It's about time you did something,' he added settling back into
the sand.

	`Yeah, you're right,' I agreed, `but it needs to look good.'

	Paul slipped his hand between my legs, and stroked my bum before
bringing it back through and slowly caressing my cock. He tugged patiently
at my zip, pulling it all the way down. The relief as my erection was no
longer trapped in the tight jeans was immense. There was no way he would be
able to get my drainpipes off from where he was, so I stood up next to him,
facing the camera, and wiggled my way out of them. As I bent over to push
the bunched up cotton over my ankles, I felt a hand on the naked skin of my
bottom, playfully he grabbed the string, and followed its route down my
crack, between my legs and out the front. I could hear the little camera
clicking away as he did this, and leaned back as he cupped my balls, his
fingers playing sensuously over my stiff cock.

	Facing the camera, I knelt down carefully, my knees either side of
Paul's pelvis, his erect penis pressing hard against mine, both still in
their respective g strings. Reaching down, I pulled his pants to one side,
releasing his erection into my hand. I slowly began to masturbate him, the
back of my hand rubbing along the length of my dick as I did so. Shuffling
down a little, I fed his penis into my pants, both our cocks stretching the
semi-transparent material to its limit. It felt wonderful, rubbing the two
hot cocks through the silky fabric, and judging by the quiet moans, Paul
thought so too.

	Without changing my position, I pulled my shirt over my head, and
leaned back to give the best possible shot to the camera. Abruptly I stood
up, getting a moan of protest for my pains; I grabbed up my camera as Paul
resumed his wanking duties. For the first time I turned my back towards the
other camera, exposing that I was wearing a g string, and I crouched down
for a close up; displaying my bottom to the onlooker. `Put your cock away,
and lift your bum off the sand,' I commanded. Paul followed these
instructions, and arched his back, propping his bottom clear of the ground
with his hands on his hips. I was able to take the close up shot that
revealed that he too was wearing a string. As he had both hands full, I
grabbed the cable release and took a couple of pics on the other
camera. `Roll over,' I asked, Paul obliged, and pushed his bottom in the
air, head cushioned on his forearms and his smooth white buttocks bisected
by the purple string. Unable to resist, I softly stroked his warm skin,
then, with a finger tip I traced up and down the line of the string; down
his crack, over his hairless anus and through his legs to the base of his
balls. I felt his body shudder with pleasure as I undertook my sexual
odyssey, we'd certainly come a long way since the early days, and come a
lot into the bargain!

	Once I felt I was done with Paul, and I was satisfied that we had
all the pictures we might want, I rested my hand on his butt and asked;
`What shall we do now? I've got a couple of ideas, but I thought you might
have some too. I'm going to have to reload with film in a few frames, so if
you wanted to cool off a bit before we take it to the bridge (I'm sorry,
I'd been listening to James Brown, I suspect the reference was wasted on
Paul), now's the time.'

	`Yeah, ok,' he said drowsily, lifting his head up, `I was well on
the way.'

	`Let's finish off these films then.' I offered him my hand, and he
slowly hauled himself to his feet. The stiff pole that was his prick was
distending the small triangle of stretchy fabric, in truth, nothing very
much was covered up by it, although when I looked down, I realised that I
was similarly exposed. I put my arm round Paul's waist and pulled his warm
body next to me, our twin erections in their contrasting fabrics clashed
pleasingly as we faced the camera. I put a hand down and firmly grasped his
cock, and getting the idea; he did the same to me and we slowly wanked each
other.

	This was the point where the film in the small camera ran out; Paul
flopped down on a rock while I reloaded, his erection still hot and
heavy. He seemed very tired, although when you consider how much exercise
and how much sex we'd had, this wasn't really surprising. I was buzzing; I
was discovering things about myself and how much I liked sex, no doubt I'd
pay the price for it later, but in the meantime, I was game for
anything. Once I'd done, I picked up my camera, which still had a few shots
left in it. I took a couple of pics of Paul resting on his rock, head in
his hands and that ever present erection jutting out from between his
legs. `Come on,' I said gently, and pulled him down to the pool, figuring
that the water would liven him up; `Let's see what happens to your pulling
pants when they get wet.'

	The answer, gentle reader was that they became a good deal
clingier, if that were possible, and mine were almost
transparent. Splashing out of the water for a moment, I set off the timer
on my camera, and rejoined Paul in he water, we posed for our picture with
our fingers touching the tips of each other's cocks. A finger on the other
hand touching our lips as if in mock surprise, completed the image, maybe
not one for the family album.

	`D'you remember when I took some pictures of you in the bath?' I
asked, fondling his cock through the sodden pants.

	`Yeah,' he giggled, `I slipped at the critical moment and came all
over you.'

	`We've never been that good at getting the cum shots, have we, but
anyway, what I thought was that we should do it again, but with the camera
set up.'

	`What d'you mean?'

	`I'd like you to come all over my face, and then I'll come all over
you.' I said.

	`Cool, I'd like that, specially if I can come first,' he said,
looking pleased and distinctly perkier.

	`but I really want to get a good shot,' I said insistently.

	`Yeah, yeah,' he said dismissively, `not a problem.'

	I grabbed him by the shoulders and wrestled him down into the
water, and we horsed around for a bit. `Wait a bit,' I said, when we
surfaced, `let's try something; stand still, legs slightly apart.'

	Paul did as I asked, standing up to his crotch in the pool, his
balls just being kissed by the lapping water. I submerged, and resurfaced
between his legs, facing towards him. Pausing for a moment to nuzzle into
his hot crotch, I lifted my hands up and supported him under the arms as I
stood up, Paul's legs either side of my head. There wasn't much of a chance
of my seeing the expression on Paul's face from where I was, as my view was
wholly occupied by his bulging genitals, but I heard him squeak with
surprise as I lifted him up, I was very glad that he was still a
lightweight. I reached round with one hand, and pulled his pants to one
side allowing his cock to flop out, I took the tip into my mouth, teasing
the glans with my tongue, he was already well lubricated and his pre-cum
flooded into my mouth. I walked slowly out of the water, and back up the
sand to where I had set up the camera and knelt down, depositing Paul
gently onto the sand.

	As he laid there, cock jutting from his pants, I stood over him,
and pulling my g string aside too, I gave my neglected cock a bit of
attention. Paul groped for the cable release and took a few shots as he
watched me wanking over him. `Umm,' he said tentatively, `there was one
thing I liked.'

	`Oh yes?' I said.

	`Could you rub your cock over my bum-hole again, it feels
great. I'm not having it up me, but I love the feeling it gives me when you
touch me there.'

	`I'm game,' I answered, `roll over then.'

	Once again he stuck his arse in the air, difference was he wanted
me to play with him this time. This time I pulled his pants right off, and
moved up close behind him, before I did what he'd asked me to do, I leaned
over and blew gently on his skin. As he wiggled in pleasure, I blew a
little more, directly onto the pink pucker of his anus. He moaned again,
and his groping hand reached back and grasped my cock firmly. Taking this
as encouragement, I leaned forward and started to lick his bottom,
carefully angling myself so that it would look like I was rimming him. I
delicately flicked my tongue around his virgin pucker, the ecstatic sounds
that Paul was making suggested that this might be a future source of
pleasure for him. Gently unclasping his hand from my cock, I stripped off
my pants and brought my throbbing cock to bear on his naked bottom.

	I was really turned on, and wasn't going to be able to do this for
very long, unless he wanted me to come in his bottom. Still, I was willing
to give it a go, and pressed the tip of my cock into his crack. The
combination of my spit, and the moistness of my cock provided plenty of
lubrication as I gently slipped it up and down, giving special attention to
his anus. I wasn't able to resist a little prod at him, just forcing my
glans in a tiny bit, but he pulled away, and I pretended that nothing had
happened.

	I was really close to coming, so I rolled him over, `Sit up,' I
said, and he propped himself up on his elbows. I took hold of my cock,
kneeling with my knees either side of his waist, his erection pressing
against my bottom. I wanked vigorously, until I could feel the pressure
building up, as I was about to come, I shuffled up a bit and aimed my cock
at Paul's face. I could hear the camera clicking as a great rope of spunk
jetted out of my cock and spattered into his face. Fortunately his eyes
were closed, as the next few gobbets of jizz covered his face and hair, he
opened his mouth, licking at the dribbles as they dripped down his
skin. Exhausted, I flopped back, the last few dribbles leaking from my cock
and over my thighs.

	Paul sat up, his erection firm and hot in his hand, `right, your
turn,' he said, suiting action to his words and starting to jerk over me. I
put up a hand and gave him a little assistance, until it was obvious that
he was close to coming. I groped for the cable release, and as he gasped;
`here it comes,' I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and pressed the
button. The feeling as his hot spunk spattered into my face was wonderful,
I too licked at the dribbles as they trickled over my face. I heard Paul
giggling; `If you could only see what you look like,' he spluttered.

	`I can see you,' I said, with dignity, `come here.' Paul shuffled
over, I wiped a handful of jizz off his face and licked it off my fingers,
`no need to anoint you, I've already done that and you to me.'

	`I'm pooped,' Paul said, yawning.

	`Let's have a kip then,' I answered. We curled up together where we
were and quickly dozed off in the warm sunshine. We slept for quite a
while, I think, neither of us had been wearing a watch during our
performance. We were rudely awakened by the onset of a sudden rain shower,
up to this point we had been lucky with the weather, but the Lakes are
notorious for the sheer quantity of rain that they produce. `Oh well,' I
said, `at least we're naked, can't get any wetter. Let's get cleaned up.'
We walked slowly down to the water, the gentle rain splashing on our
bodies. Gently, almost sacramentally, we washed each other down, cleaning
the slippery spunk off our bodies and faces.

	`We'd better get on,' I said, `we can row across and make camp on
the other side.' We dressed carefully, putting on the pants that we had
dried in the sun earlier. We had managed to take all six rolls of film that
our pervy friend had left for us. I popped them into their little cans and
addressed Paul; `What d'you think? Should we leave these for him?'

	`I think we should leave him some of them, although I'd really like
to see how they've come out.'

	`Ok, I'll leave him the ones from the new camera, and keep the ones
I took with mine.'

	`but then we won't have any with you in,' he said, looking
disappointed.

	`I'm always game to take some more,' I answered, smiling. `Come on,
let's get our stuff into the boat.' Before we left camp, I wrote another
note for our watcher; Hope you enjoyed watching our show as much as we
enjoyed doing it, here are some of the pictures we took. We've kept some of
them, so we won't forget the day. I tucked the note under the little pile
of film cans and placed it safely in a dry place, clearly visible to anyone
walking into the cove.

	As I rowed the boat out onto the lake, the rain had begun to
slacken off. I was able to scan the woody headland that overlooked our
cove, but our mysterious voyeur was a better woodsman and I couldn't see
anything of him, if indeed, he had ever been there. We crossed the lake in
about an hour, Paul pointed over my shoulder towards the jetty that
protected the marina we were to leave the boat at.

	Without being challenged, we tied the boat up, and headed inland,
by my reckoning we were only five or six miles from the centre, our boat
ride having saved us the same distance again. We walked for a couple of
miles before making camp in a clearing, we were both starving hungry after
our exertions and cooked up a big fry up to fill our bellies. After we were
done, the light was beginning to fail, and we couldn't think to do except
crawl into the tent. We no longer had no inhibitions about sleeping
together after the events of the day and snuggled up close in our sleeping
bags. Warmth, full stomachs and the comfort of sleeping spooned up against
a naked boy meant that we slept almost immediately.

	The next morning we were awake early, as the light penetrated the
canvas of our tent. We were still snuggled up together, and despite all our
efforts the day before; I had awoken with a raging hard on, a swift
investigation revealed that Paul too was similarly turgid. I didn't even
stop to think, but throwing back the sleeping bag, I went down on him,
slurping noisily on his cock. After a moment's surprise, Paul responded,
and turned round to join me in a sixty-nine. There was nothing subtle about
our sex; we were both responding to feelings that at our age we didn't have
full control of. We sucked urgently until I could feel the familiar
sensation of impending orgasm building up, I'd already had a taste of
Paul's pre-cum so I could safely assume that he wasn't far off either. With
perfect symmetry we shot our loads at more or less the same time.

	We swallowed and sat up, `Wow, that was good, I haven't come like
that for, hmm, at least eight hours,' I said.

	`Yeah, and we haven't got spunk all over the sleeping bags either,'
Paul replied, practically.

	`Go and put the kettle on, would you? I'm still aching after all
that rowing,' I flopped back onto the warm sleeping bag.

	Paul unzipped the tent flap and then reversed out into the feeble
early morning sunshine. A second later he shot back in, as if shot by a
catapult.

	`What's up?' I asked lazily.

	Paul was bright pink, `take a look,' he said.

	I crawled down the tent and stuck my head out through the flap,
there was nothing to see. `What?' I demanded.

	`Go a bit further,' he said.

	`Ok,' I crawled right out of the tent and stood up, right alongside
us, but set slightly back, was another tent, a primus stove already heating
a kettle outside it's flaps. Suddenly aware that I was naked and very
evidently post-coital, I dived back into the tent, crashing into Paul, who
was hastily pulling his pants on. `Ah, I see the problem.' I whispered,
blushing too, `put a shirt on, and we'll pretend we were going for a wash
if anybody asks.' I put my pants on, and grabbed my shirt. Sheepishly we
crawled out through the flap and I started to pump up the primus. There was
no sign of the occupants of the other tent, although the steam coming from
their kettle indicated that it would be whistling soon.

	There was to be no escape, as soon as the kettle boiled, the flaps
opened and the occupants crawled out. It was the small well endowed boy who
had been so interested in us, and a friend. He was still small and well
endowed, moreover, he too was dressed in white underpants and a t shirt, as
was his friend, how nice, all boys together and half way to naked.

	`Morning,' I said cheerfully, `didn't hear you pitch your tent last
night.'

	`No,' he giggled, `it was quite dark and we could hear you both
snoring, so we didn't try to wake you.'

	`Snoring?' I said.

	`Yeah, we could hear every sound from your tent, kept us up for
ages.'

	`Oh, I'm sorry,' I replied, `maybe you'll learn not to pitch your
tent quite so close next time.'

	`Maybe I will,' he said, smiling, `I think I've a lot to learn
about camping.'

	There's not a lot more to relate, we made breakfast, washed up, and
broke camp in an hour, three hours later the four of us walked into the
comparative civilisation of the outdoor centre. After dumping our stuff we
were congratulated on a model exercise by the teacher and headed for the
games room to chill out. I was still buzzing, we'd packed a whole lot into
our couple of days, and there was the additional complication of our little
hanger on, whose name was Ewan, I had now discovered. I had little doubt
that he'd heard everything, but what he made of it was a mystery to
me. When I unjammed his camera, I had been able to retrieve the film,
perhaps this would hold a clue. I would have to avail myself of the
darkroom at the earliest opportunity, and of course, I had a few films of
my own to develop too.

To be concluded....