Date: Wed, 2 Jan 2013 21:11:57 -0500
From: Bi Cruiser <bicruiser@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Matter for Confession - Chapter 4

A Matter for Confession – Chapter 4

The heavy scent of coffee brewing nearby awoke me from a deep sleep to an
unfamiliar place filled with disturbing noises which seemed to be coming
from the next room. It took only a few seconds for me to be reminded of
what happened to me during the night because of the itching burning pain on
my rectum. I remembered where I was and that the room next door was a
kitchen. I looked around the small room and the man was not there. The
light blanket that must have covered us during sleep was lying in a
crumpled pile at the foot of the bed. It must have been he who threw it
there and was making all of that racket.

I sat up and could feel the stiffness on the sheet beneath me and noticed
the large stain on the bed all around me. The memory of what happened came
flooding back which only served to amaze me that all of that massive stain
was expelled from within my bowels which were unable to retain the huge
volume of human sperm that had been forced inside.

I could feel the crust of his dried cum on my butt and the residual
dampness of the sperm trapped in my crack having been protected from the
drying air of the room by the defensive clenching I must have maintained
during sleep to prevent any further probing. Realizing the painful tension
of my sphincter, I tried to relax my straining which only served to
intensify the pain and my hole began to leak again. I scooted my but across
the sheet but was shocked upon looking back and seeing the bright red trail
that marked the path I took across the sheet. My God I was bleeding! I
needed to do something about it quickly. I needed to get to the bathroom.

I could hear him in the next room making breakfast, I think. The noises he
was making sounded like kitchen utensils and frying pans and things banging
about. I could hear the unmistakable sound of the coffee pot percolating on
the stove. Pop gurgle, Pop gurgle... which was accompanied by the sound and
beckoning smell of bacon frying on a pan.

Despite the comforting smells, I was filled with fear, more so than hunger
and didn't know what to do. I needed to get away from him before he killed
me with that big thing of his. If he ever tried to put it up my ass again,
I was sure that he would tear me apart and I would bleed to death. It was
so long that it would surely stab my heart. I didn't know how I got into
that mess. Yes I did! It was that daemon, the devil himself who got me
here.

I could feel the hot blood seeping from my hole and soaking the bed beneath
me. I wanted to dash to the bathroom to see if I could take care of it. I
really wanted to run out of the cabin and out of the camp but I was naked
and shoeless and wouldn't be able to get very far without being
caught. Also, I would die of embarrassment if the other boys and Robert
ever saw me in that state but I knew I had to chance it, maybe I could grab
some clothes on the way out. I was just about to bolt when Paul popped his
head into the doorway and cheerfully said, "Time to get up!"

My reaction was to retreat to the opposite corner of the room and huddle in
fear and shame, hiding my face. I had nowhere to go. He was blocking the
only path to freedom. I was trapped. I was doomed. I thought in seeing me
cower as I did, he would pounce on me like a puma on a hare.

I was wrong. He reacted much differently than I expected. He sprang alright
but not as a predator. Seeing all of the blood, he seemed more like a
protector by saying, "My God, Little Pup, I'm sorry! I would never in a
million years have intentionally hurt you like that in. Here, let me help
you!"

I was very confused but knew that I needed help and with his expressed
compassion, I was not about to turn away from his aid and, what seemed like
comfort.

He swept me up in his arms and hugged my nakedness close to his fully
clothed body. I welcomed the warm embrace but began to whimper, probably
more out of relief than fear but tears none the less. He carried me to the
bathroom and put me onto the toilet and then dampened a clean washcloth
with warm water and stepped to my side. He placed his large hand on the
back of my neck but unlike the last time he did that in the shower, he very
gently applied pressure indicating that I should bend over and he gently
applied the warm compress to my sore hole and held it there with mild
pressure causing my pain to quickly diminish but only while he kept up the
pressure. He gently stroked my back and neck with his free hand as if to
keep me calm but maybe also as an expression of his feelings for me. My
fear began to diminish and my infatuation was rekindled.

Paul rinsed the cloth occasionally and reapplied it several times until I
felt the pain lessen to the point I didn't need the compress anymore. He
cleaned me up and slathered my hole with some hemorrhoid ointment. The
grease was soothing and seemed to relieve most of my pain. In applying it,
he slipped a finger in me to push some of the unguent inside my rectum
where, I'm sure there was more damage. I was shocked that his thick finger
entered me so easily and without the slightest discomfort. He, on the other
hand, was apparently shocked at the amount of damage he had wrought by his
wanton assault on my most private aperture and profusely apologized.

"Pup," apparently a term of his endearment, "I'm so sorry I did that to
you. I'm use to boys who are able to take me. I didn't realize you were so
inexperienced. I would never have done it if I had known. You are so
beautiful and exciting that I just lost all control of myself," he said in
what sounded to me like contrite sincerity.

I was beginning to feel very close to him but couldn't understand how at
one moment you could feel absolute panic in fear of a person and in the
next, feel that you, well, love them. Yes, I was convinced that it was love
that I was feeling. My feeling for Paul before was not really about the man
but about the possibility of sex with the man. But, after what he had just
done for me, I felt for him like I did my mom and dad; only with sex heaped
on top of it. He clearly cared for me too. I think he loved me or he
wouldn't have done what he just did. Who the hell would?

He stood me up and asked if I was OK, which I was, and took a fresh clean
wash rag and wet it and this time lathered it up with soap and washed my
body from head to toe like he did the night before in the shower only
skipping my butt. He gently dried me off with a soft towel and walked me to
the front smaller bedroom where he helped me get dressed before we went
into the kitchen to salvage what he had prepared for breakfast.

At our private breakfast, we had a long and very personal conversation
where I felt he told me he loved me but without actually using those
words. He also told me that some of the boys there were "His friends"
meaning that they liked having sex with him. He wanted to know about Robert
since he was with us in the sacristy while I was being doused with Paul's
cum and never spilled the beans about it.

I told him all about Robert and all of the things he and I had done
together and also told him that he had become one of my best friends over
the past few months.

"Good! Maybe he would like to join us," he said as if he expected me to
make the necessary arrangements with Robert.

I had feelings for Robert; maybe not the kind I had for Paul but I
certainly didn't want anything bad to happen to him. I didn't want him to
have to go through what I had just experienced. He and I had something
special going. Even though there were some boys like Jimmy, my very best
friend that I was around more frequently, every time Robert and I got
together, sexual sparks would fly. Of all my friends that I fooled around
with, sex play with Robert was much more thrilling.

Sitting there across from Paul finishing up a cup of coffee, the first one
of my life, and contemplating if I should recruit Robert into our tryst, I
had worked up the courage to tell him what I thought.

"I like Robert... a lot... and I don't want what happened to me to happen
to him," I said in a calm and rather adult-like manner which surprised even
me and obviously Paul too.

He looked shocked at the suggestion and my lack of faith in his
intentions. After all, we were both motivated by the same desires.

"I promise that I will not hurt him or anyone else. Honestly, what happened
last night was an accident. I am not the sort of man who enjoys inflecting
pain on young boys," he said rather sheepishly but clearly calculated to
blunt any reluctance on my part to pull Robert in.

Suddenly, I felt empowered, no longer a kid's game, I was playing in the
big leagues. For whatever reason, Paul was taking direction from me like I
was an adult. I may have been young, but I was a kid no more.

I thought a little more about the way Paul answered me and realized that it
was an admission of his pedophilia, although I didn't know the term at that
time but understood that he like having sex with young boys. It was also
clear that even if he loved me, he would always be doing it with other boys
and if I wanted to do things with him, others would also be involved both
when I was there and when I was not. Part of me had no problem with it
since I had been having sex play with lots of boys myself, both one-on-one
and in groups for over a year by that time. But, another part of me felt
hurt. I seemed to have a need to have Paul to myself. A struggle was
developing within me that was making me very unhappy. I guess that my
hormones overpowered my emotions because the thought of sex with Robert was
irresistible, even if Paul would be taking part so I decided to do it.

That first full day with all the other boys was one of the most fun days of
my life. We swam. We learned to dive from both low and high boards on the
floating platform out from the sand beach. We learned how to use the canoes
stacked on special trailers parked adjacent to the beach. Two to a canoe,
we explored a mile or more of the shoreline and coves closest to the
camp. We brought box lunches and snacks with us that had been prepared for
us by the staff. We were gone all afternoon, returning just about at dinner
time.

Of course, Robert and I paired up for a canoe which gave me plenty of time
to entice him into joining us. I had no doubt that he would be eager to
join me in bed for a sexual romp but I had no idea what he would say about
having Paul with us. I knew he saw Paul's endowment and I knew he was very
aware, as was everyone else that I was staying alone with Paul in his cabin
but, since he never talked about any of it, I didn't know how he would
react to my invitation.

We steered up a wide tree covered creek, breaking from the other boys who
continued along the shoreline of the lake while we surveyed the banks of
the darkened tributary looking for a landing where we could lunch. We found
a secluded opening in the canopy which was covered in short grass and
bathed in bright sunlight, perfect for our midday banquet.

I had opened up to Robert about what happened to me, telling him in great
detail how I was nearly deflowered and the surprising compassion shown by
Paul when he realized my distress. I also mentioned Paul's interest in
having him joining us which surprisingly excited him since his paddling
became increasingly energetic. We were flying through the shallows like we
had a motor on the back of the canoe. It was with some force that we
landed; no need to get our feet wet with the canoe half way up the
embankment.

He was so stimulated that he decided to dine on me and not from the box
lunch. He dragged me down to the grass and stripped off my trunks so
quickly that I didn't have a chance to resist. Skipping the preliminaries
he went right to my cock with his mouth and sucked me to erection. I guess
I too was already stimulated because it didn't take very long for me to
empty my load into his mouth but this time my phantasy was of Paul filling
my bowels again rather than usual mental image his sperm filling my mouth.

I watched Robert as he finished me off and could see the repeated
contraction of the muscles at his throat as he swallowed each time his
mouth filled with my sperm. I knew he enjoyed swallowing cum as much as I
did. Even though he never mentioned anything about it, I could feel his
jealousy at me being the beneficiary of Paul's flood of sperm that day back
in the sacristy many weeks before. I remembered the way he looked at me as
I knelt there all covered in cum after Paul had left, struggling to swallow
the viscous remnants that clung tenaciously to my palate. My eyes locked
with his and I could see the envy in them. Normally, when we did that, our
unspoken communication was of respect, admiration, and what I would today
term as love but not at that moment. I just chalked it off as him liking
me.

As Robert took to his feet while I lay there on the grass recovering from
my climax, I happened to grab the sides of his swim trunks and pulled them
down around his knees to reveal the handsome boner he earned while blowing
me. I grabbed it and struggled to my knees to return his favor and worship
the most beautiful of all of the cocks I had the opportunity to see and
experience. If his was sculpted in marble, it would surpass the beauty of
Michelangelo's David. It was a work of God's art. Gently curved, the shaft
of significant girth usually assumed a 45 o angle to the vertical when
aroused. The large bulbous cap was sculpted with perfect and graceful
curves and shone like hand polished marble. Unlike marble, it was a warm
living thing evident by its throbbing and pulsing and the expulsion of
thick warm potent fluids that could only have been produced by the
handiwork of God himself.

I struggled to my knees, not once releasing his magnificent scepter; my
jerky movements stimulating it to its zenith. By the time I go up and
brought my face to it, it felt like marble under my grip. His crystal clear
fluid was already streaming down my forearm from the leaking slit at the
tip of his cock. I extended my tongue to capture the secretion at its
source and closed my lips around the very tip covering the oozing slit. I
accepted the slow trickle of his ooze into my mouth for a few seconds while
trying to stimulate its production by teasing his slit with my tongue. With
the realization that the flow was at its max, I commenced the ancient rite
of sodomy.

Unlike Paul's cock, I could actually get the head of this beauty into my
mouth, but only the head. I noticed that over time, I was able to get more
and more of it in my mouth. That was probably because my body was rapidly
growing and, being older, his probably wasn't anymore or maybe not as
rapidly. Regardless, I could get it deeper into my mouth to the point where
I was contemplating taking it into my throat. He was able to do it for me
but that wasn't much of a challenge considering my size at the time. I had
tried it before with one of our friends who had a long skinny cock but it
ended in disaster when I spewed my dinner after gagging on it.

One failed attempt does not remove the challenge. I still felt a compulsion
to try doing it again but the reality was that he was too big or my mouth
was too small at the time and I would have to postpone my attempt, at least
with Robert.

What I was doing to Robert was not profane sex. It was fervent worship of
his phallic icon. It was an expression of my devotion to God's most perfect
creation; the fountainhead of human creation. But, despite my care not to
over stimulate so as to prolong the exaltation, Robert's rapture began with
a shutter and a violent explosion of sperm into my mouth. I felt my soul
being reenergized by his searing libation. I swallowed and swallowed to
keep up with his forceful offering and it was all over much too soon as his
discharge stopped and erection diminished.

We both crumpled to the ground spent with exhaustion and laid next to each
other, each to our own thoughts. I was thinking about the differences
between my feelings for Robert and those for Paul. Robert was a friend of
mine who I liked but absolutely loved his cock. Paul, on the other hand had
an awesome cock that I liked but I had an emotional attachment to the
man. I thought it may be love but I didn't really know what love was. All I
knew was that I couldn't get Paul out of my thoughts.

I had no idea what Robert was thinking but he looked deep in
thought. Eventually, he raised himself to one elbow and looked at me and
asked, "What's it like to kiss a guy?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I know that my first experience with
kissing started out very slowly but soon raised me to a new plateau of
excitement. I had no previous experience kissing anybody but my parents,
aunts, and uncles. None of that, of course, was anything like what I did
with Paul.

Not knowing what to say, I leaned into him and pressed my lips to his and
tried to repeat what I learned from Paul. He abruptly pulled away from my
advances and sprung to his feet. I liked up to him feeling embarrassed at
my appurtenance and he looked back with a look of ire.

"I'm not a queer!" he said through tightly clenched teeth and turned away
from me and darted back down to the canoe.

I was equally insulted by his response. I wasn't a queer either. I liked
girls and planned to marry one someday. I wanted to have sex with one also
but I didn't know how to get one to do it with me. I thought about girls
when I jerked off... Well, I use to. I guess it's been awhile since I had
dreamt of a girl and that was because I had no idea of how to do it with
one.

Boys were easier. We were all horn-dogs and wanted the same thing. We just
wanted cum. One thing I learned was that some of us wanted to lose it and
some wanted to get it. Get it? Get it! My God, I was queer. I had been
thinking that all boys just did that kind of stuff. I was wrong. Only
queers played with other guys. Only queers took dicks in their
mouths... Only queers had feelings for other guys.

Shit! I really thought I fucked things up with Robert. I watched him
standing near the water's edge with his back to me and not talking for the
longest time. I endured the silence fearing I would lose him as a friend if
we got into it about this. I felt like crying not knowing what to do. It
was then I noticed that his shoulders were slightly shaking and he was
breathing kind of erratically. So, I ran down to him and touched his
shoulder without offering a word. With that, he turned to me with tears in
his eyes and a pained expression on his face.

Without a word spoken between us, we clasped each other in a tight embrace
as we both began to whimper, cry and then howl. Our chests heaved violently
in and out of sync until we reached a type of harmony in counterpoint. One
would gasp in sorrow and the other exhale in anguish the interchange
permitting us to hold each other extremely tight through the turmoil of
self-revelation that was tormenting our souls. We each were experiencing
the pain of recognizing and admitting our most private truths. There was
only one way to end this fettle and that was to acknowledge reality and we
did that by rejoining our lips. This time it was Robert who placed his lips
on mine and we melted into a pool of heated emotion. Unlike the sexual
stimulation I experienced with Paul, this one felt comfortable and warm. It
was a soothing kiss. It was what I imagined it would be like in kissing a
girl.

I was then confused more than ever. I thought I felt love for Paul but
Robert's kiss was the definition of love. He was communicating pure emotion
to me and not just erotic sex. I could feel his caring for me, his devotion
to me, and a sense of belonging that I didn't feel with Paul. My world was
again upside down. Who was it that I loved and why?

Eventually, the kiss broke but we continued the tight embrace while cheek
to cheek. Robert said something very softly into my ear but I couldn't
understand it and was too afraid to break the mood to ask him to repeat
it. He pulled his face back and told me that he would join Paul and me that
night if I wanted him to do it. .After what just happened, I wasn't sure if
I wanted him to be with Paul but I relented and said, "Yes."