Mackey Tales: The Lost Tribes of the West – Simon A. Mackey 25
This story is about sex between boys. It's a total fantasy. You've made it to Nifty/gay/young-friends, so you'd know by now and I won't repeat the usual warning yadayadayada.
What I do repeat, however: Please support Nifty because this is a wonderful, free archive and a treasure box.
The stories make you feel good, but a contribution to Nifty will make you feel even better:
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This is my follow-up on the tales of the Mackey clan as created by Jonas Henley and extended by Charles Well, Nick ea. Please have a look at the introduction for reference.
Special thanks to RNP for reviewing my story, and to Andrew Passey for letting me build on his characters and ideas from his `Village'-series.
Enjoy
Nils
The Scouts White Party Camp – part 7
"You heard my brother."
Jordan's heart skipped a beat. He had heard that indeed. He knew what Curtis meant with that: he just wasn't sure if it was a joke or if Mitchell really wanted that. But the way Mitchell turned towards him, only reminding him of his brother's words, made him sigh surrendering. He knew that this meant that there would be sex involved. Curtis's talk had made him hard and curious at the same time. The stress and anxiousness around the Choosing had disappeared but had made way for this new and exciting feeling that he had been experiencing so many times these last few months. He wasn't sure if he should answer the inexplicit call. Maybe he should not or better not. He was a boy and so was Mitchell. He was the sturdy of the two, but the coercive words echoed in his head: "You heard my brother."
Mitchell lying back, pulled his shirt up, revealing his bare belly above his shorts where the bulge was now impossible to miss, and then put one arm beneath his head, the other shielding his eyes from the light.
"Come on. You might as well since we're both hard," he said in a slightly amused tone.
Jordan hesitated. He wasn't used to Mitchell taking initiative in unchartered territories, but the way Mitchell instructed him made him believe that he must have had some more experience from his older brother. Finally, his curiosity won.
"Oh, well, all right." He reached forward, his brown fingers hesitantly touching the dick that pushed the fabric of Mitchell's shorts up.
Reaching up, he flicked open the top button of Mitchell's fly, then pulled the zipper down. The shaft was clearly visible under the white fabric of the boy's briefs. Mitchell then bucked a little with his ass to indicate Jordan to move ahead, and Jordan complied, now raising himself and pulling the shorts down with both hands, followed by the briefs, leaving Mitchell completely exposed his blond pubic hair and his swollen balls.
"You can touch it," Mitchell hoarsely encouraged him.
Jordan's brown fingers closed round the brownish-pink cock that twitched at the feeling of cool fingers, different fingers than it was used to.
Jordan gulped, said nothing, his eyes fixed on Mitchell's cock, on his moving fingers on the bulbous head that became slicker each time his fingers covered it, revealed it, and then slid across it again. Finally, he dared to grip the warm pole firmly and squeezed it, moved his hand up and down like he had done with his own dick.
"Tighter, faster, please."
"How? Like this?"
Jordan's hand was moving faster now: His long fingers pressuring the shaft as he stroked it up and down, up and down and again, up and down. Then, closing his hand all the way over the head, he started pulling it back and down, all the way far down the shaft.
"That's good. Keep going. Your hand's a bit dry though."
Jordan took his hand away from Mitchell's cock, sniffed it, and spat on it like he had done when slicking his own dick.
He resumed jerking the cock in hand, determined to do well. It was his first time ever feeling a dick other than his own, but he wanted to show Mitchell, and maybe even more Mitchell's absent big brother, that he was not afraid, that he was capable of doing the things that apparently other boys did too. He paused to adjust his own erection that pushed stiffly against the material of his striped briefs in his pants.
Jordan's hand resumed working the shaft, his eyes wide, taking in what Mitchell had revealed. His other hand tentatively brushed Mitchell's groin, then more boldly cupped his balls and lifted them from the space between his legs.
"That's it," sighed Mitchell. "Squeeze them, but not too hard."
Jordan was working the cock harder now. His other hand squeezed Mitchell's balls, played with his pubic hair, pushed gently into the crack between Mitchell's legs. The boy's body began to heave, to twist, to raise itself from the grass. He really was shading his eyes now, his breath shorter, beginning to gasp.
Jordan kept stroking the boy's cock, rubbing his palm over the head, spitting onto his hand again while his fingers were gripping the pink head and applying subtle pressures. His other hand was playing with Mitchell's balls, bringing them clear of his legs, and manipulating them gently.
Jordan pulled the dick back from Mitchell's body and then playfully let it spring back again. Sometimes his whole hand, sometimes his fingers, sometimes his fingertips were working the shaft, his other hand caressing the balls in the soft pouch, slipping between his legs, edging his legs farther apart.
Mitchell was groaning and cooing with pleasure, so when Jordan bowed a little closer towards the toy he was playing with, Mitchell reached out and, with little pressure, he guided Jordan's head lower, closer to the dick he was playing with.
Jordan knew this was the play Curtis was talking about. This was what lay ahead at the Choosing. That made him a little scared. What would it taste like? Should he even do this? But the warm hand on his head was unrelenting and the exposed knob was getting closer and closer to his mouth.
After he spat some saliva onto the purple head, he started stroking with his fingers tenderly the moist flesh.
And then Jordan did more: he slipped his mouth over Mitchell's cock and started sliding all the way down the shaft. He raised his head, instinctively applying pressure to the shaft on the upward stroke before sliding back down again. Up and down, faster and faster as if this wasn't the first time he sucked a dick, as if this wasn't the first time he'd ever touched a dick other than his own.
Without hesitation, Mitchell reached out to open Jordan's shorts. With one hand Jordan helped him, while his other hand was still playing with the cock that was wet from his mouth. When Mitchell had finished opening his shorts, he raised himself and pushed his shorts down, together with his striped briefs, and kicked them all off. Jordan then reached down at Mitchell's ankles and pulled off his briefs and shorts, his socks and shoes too, leaving him naked from the waist down.
Mitchell reached out for him. He grabbed the pulsing cock of the horny boy, a cock that was slightly bigger and a bit darker than his own.
While Jordan resumed sucking is friend's cock, Mitchell reached out with both hands and pulled him by the shoulders.
Jordan, not sure what to do, let himself be guided sideways until he was straddling Mitchell's chest, knees on either side.
Mitchell gripped his bottom, pink and round and glowing, and pulled him forward until the boy's cock pressed against his lips. His tongue flicked out across the glans; he sucked in the head, then took the full shaft and began to give the same kind of pleasurable sucking that Jordan had given him earlier.
Jordan looked down and saw his stiff pink hard-on sliding into Mitchell's mouth, his braised red lips around the swollen head of his cock, brushing the few dark pubic hairs he had. Mitchell's lips played around his swelling cock, as Jordan's beautiful dark eyes lazily drank in the way his cock was being swallowed. Jordan liked what he saw, loved what he saw and, he definitely wanted more.
In one gentle movement, Mitchell sucked the dick in as deeply as he could, and it felt...good.
It felt more than good, it felt wonderful, satisfying and natural — it just felt right.
He wrestled with the cock, holding it with both hands, first kissing the tip, then running his lips around the glans and then attempting to deep throat it. He sipped the clear fluid that ran down the shaft, and then pushed his nose into the hairy pubic area, playing with the balls.
Jordan couldn't get enough, and, all this time, there were wonderful sensations in his young cock as it went deeply into Mitchell's hot young mouth.
Jordan was leaning forward. At first he was passive, allowing himself to be gently sucked, but then he pushed forward, pulled back and pushed forward again. He was face-fucking Mitchell. He would not use these words but that's what he was doing. He began to rock back and forth, regulating the speed and depth that gave him the most pleasure. He loved this. He was on top, enjoying this new feeling. This was the fucking he had fantasized about when he had been masturbating: his dick moving in and out as if he was fucking a girl. He now knew exactly what Curtis meant when he emphasized that boys love to play with boys, whether they're gay or not. This was Mitchell's mouth he was fucking, not Mitchell's ass, but he was pretty sure that this would come next.
The boys were each in their own world concentrating on the new sensations: the sensitive spots, the overwhelming horny feelings that the taste of a warm dick in their mouths had ignited, the newness of this situation as they completely forgot the world around them. So much so, that they didn't even hear the footsteps coming closer to the barn.
"You can go now, Curtis, you've been a great help today, but I'll do the front stable myself. You can clean yourself up and go to your friends," Curtis's dad said, as he was walking with him side by side towards the edge of the barn, a shovel on his shoulder.
"Thanks dad," Curtis replied, "but I won't mind helping you with the stable if you...": he didn't finish his sentence, because when they turned around the corner, the two came abruptly to a halt in total silence.
On the grass, near the back end of the barn, less than 150 feet away, two boys, both wearing nothing but their t-shirts, one on top of the other, were intensely occupied with an activity that both spectators immediately recognized.
"Holy sh..." Curtis's dad whispered, not finishing the curse. They looked at each other, Dad shocked, Curtis with a devilish grin on his face, and then they looked back again at the scene enfolding before their eyes.
When Curtis's dad moved a little to step forward, Curtis quickly stretched out his arm, holding him back, and whispered,
"We have to let them be, Dad: it's better to let them have fun now on their own, then have them confronted with these things at the Choosing for the first time."
His dad nodded, and they both remained silent at their spot, taking it all in.
Mitchell struggled while receiving Jordan's dick in his mouth, which was almost in his throat. But strangely, he loved the feeling of this warm body part in his mouth, just like he had loved that feeling of a tongue on his own cock.
He reached behind the boy towering over him, stroked the warm soft buns, and found the crack separating the tender mounds. He placed his hand in the crack of Jordan's bottom and felt the heat, the moist spot deep down between the warm buns. Jordan groaned, then moaned as he felt a finger touching his very private spot, playing around a little, and then he uttered a tiny 'agh' when the top of Mitchell's middle finger went deeper into the crack, opening the little hole as the first digit disappeared in the darkness.
While Jordan pushed forward, he jammed his cock down Mitchell's throat again. When he moved back, he impaled himself deeper on Mitchell's finger, igniting a groan that could express pain or even joy. Both boys were now drenched in sweat; both boys were also in ecstasy.
Jordan then began panting, gasping for breath, driving even harder into Mitchell's willing mouth.
He was nearly there, almost there, almost there, almost...
There was a pressure building up inside him, a sweet pressure, an inevitable flood of orgasmic tension, a pleasure he had never known before.
As his legs were on either side of Mitchell, his private alley was exposed and unprotected but, when the fingers left his private space, it felt terribly vacant.
He then saw Mitchell spitting on his right-hand fingers and reaching behind him again, he felt the slick fingers pressing at his secret place, and through the cobwebs in his brain, his feelings swung between `it's wrong and it's bad but it's good and it's wonderful'. Jordan even edged his legs further open to give Mitchell more space, more room, more freedom to go on doing whatever it was that was giving him so much pleasure.
Jordan felt exposed as his now moist, secret place just popped open when Mitchell's finger slid inside him, to the first knuckle, to the second knuckle, to the hilt, the finger now sliding in and out, to the tip to the hilt, faster, sloppier, fucking him, finger-fucking him. He couldn't think clearly anymore. The feeling of the warm, wet mouth on his dick, the poking finger at this unexpected sensitive spot, this whole situation, the sex for the first time in his life, it was too much, and there was no thinking anymore, just instinct.
Jordan pushed his bottom downward wanting more, wanting it harder, faster, deeper and thicker. Now, Mitchell's head was bobbing on his prick, up and down, up and down, faster and faster, saliva running from the corners of his mouth, running down the sweet pink shaft that swelled and twitched in a hot young mouth. While he was focusing on the new, intriguing, arousing feeling that the finger in him was causing, it was happening, whatever it was, it was happening. The dam was bursting...
Well, it didn't: because Mitchell was gone. His finger was gone. His mouth was gone.
Jordan reached for it himself. He must finish, he must get there... but Mitchell removed his hand.
`Why can't he just leave me alone and let me finish this?' Jordan thought almost angrily, dizzy from the upcoming climax that was now so abruptly interrupted.
Mitchell smiled as he instinctively knew that Jordan was ripe, that he was ready to receive at his other opening what he had taken in with his first opening earlier.
He wrapped his arms around Jordan's neck, pulling him a little towards him, pushing him very gently on his shoulders, lowering him, down towards his crotch, where his now rock-hard cock was pointing up, waiting like a spear ready to be plunged into a body.
Mitchell took his hand to guide his impossibly hard, pre-cum slicked dick, all along the crack of the bigger, but now submissive boy. He had fantasized of what a pussy would feel like, and now his dickhead was about to have its first delights as it slowed the up and down movement to just circling around the tensed laxity of Jordan's recently massaged hole.
Mitchell had done a good job of getting it ready with his wet finger, so now he placed the head at the opening and put some more pressure on Jordan's shoulders, as every cell in his body screamed for the sensation of being swallowed completely by heat, moistness, and intimacy.
Jordan's head spun. Just seconds ago, he was on top, his dick in that warm mouth ready to shoot his boy cum, when the feeling of his orgasm was already clouding his head and, now, he felt himself being pushed down, gently, over the warm body beneath, until a warm, fleshy knob poked at his butt hole.
He instantly knew what was coming. His mind, still foggy from these horny feelings at the brink of maybe his best orgasm ever, didn't register everything clearly anymore, but was nevertheless signaling him. In a split second, he realized that this play was what the Choosing was all about, a dick in the butt, just what his ancestors had done, the same images yesterday when he had masturbated. He wanted to protest, he was on top, he should be doing that, but his horny desires directed him to move on at the same time. He shouldn't let this happen to him, but the feeling was so nice, Mitchell's mouth on his dick was so tempting, the finger, however strange it was at that spot, felt so good. He knew he shouldn't, but he knew he couldn't resist. He knew what was next and while his mind protested `NO!' his body surrendered.
The head went into the warm hole even smoother than either boy had thought it would, and Mitchell could not believe the grip that boy's hot ass had on his whole shaft as it continued to sink in deeper, ever so slowly, and ever so luxuriantly, in the just ample 12-year-old cheeks. He was almost afraid to breathe during the progress of the smooth stretched-out butt cheeks gliding over his disappearing hardness for fear that he might cum too soon.
For Jordan, it wasn't painful like he had first feared, but there was the unmistakable feeling of stretch in his backside, and feeling fuller than the last time he had been constipated. He felt Mitchell's strong hands grip him with a little pressure and increasing sense of confidence, and felt his friend pulling him back on the swollen dick. Jordan pressed his bottom against the warm pelvis and thighs of his friend, nailed to him, in effect by a hard peg that strangely didn't feel so bad. As a matter of fact, Jordan realized that being pressed down on the boy cock and being held there felt kinda hot.
From where they stood, Curtis and his dad had witnessed it all. When they first saw Jordan, the sturdier, more masculine boy on top of Mitchell shoving his dick into his mouth, they had looked at each other and without speaking they understood who was the top and who was the bottom, and Curtis noticed the disappointed look on his dad's face. Another Bottom in the family was clearly not what he had hoped for.
But they watched breathlessly how Mitchell almost tenderly embraced Jordan and with very little effort guided him lower and lower, until they witnessed how Mitchell took the boy's virginity as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
When Curtis glanced at his dad, he saw him smiling proudly.
They noticed Jordan starting to get into the fuck. He remained quite hard and was seemingly enjoying his fuck a lot.
There was no mistaking the moans, the pleasure grunts and the state of unbending hardness that brought Jordan's dick flat up against his stomach. There was even a quiet "Ungh..., yesss... "followed by a bit louder "Oh Gahd..., yeah, yeah...!" after Mitchell had sped up.
Mitchell himself was getting closer and making his thrusts more frantic, shorter, and much harder. Jordan's mind was gone, though his body was welling up and clamping down, increasing the pressure on the hard member delving deep in him.
Mitchell wrapped his arms around his friend whom he now impaled as deep as he could and he pulled him against him in a final orgasmic embrace.
The warmness of Mitchell's body, the massage deep inside his anus, the feeling over a strange, sensitive spot somewhere deep in him made Jordan as hard as he'd ever been. The orgasmic feeling that he'd reached minutes ago when his dick had plunged into Mitchell's hot mouth, a feeling that was so abruptly interrupted, was now back by this rocking on the warm and sweaty body of his panting friend, his dick pressed between their warm bellies slithering in the natural lubricant.
As he felt the last thrust of Mitchell's dick and the flood of teen boy juices filling his rectum, Jordan exploded on his own, shooting his clear cum between their bellies.
Both boys remained panting and occupying the same position on the grass for almost two full minutes after the last thrusts and shots until they slowly came back to their own senses.
After Mitchell slowly pulled out, and Jordan dropped on the grass next to him, his back turned to him, spent, he patted that delicious rump still offered beside him, taking in the full roundness and creaminess of it and wondering if he would ever look at a boy's ass the same again. Or was it just going to be this one that he would remain fascinated with. Remain? Come to think of it, this was the first time he could recall even looking at a boy's ass and thinking something of this magnitude. So would he now be throwing glances in the gym, wondering what was underneath those white briefs in the locker room? Would he be delighted when this was happening at the Choosing?
Mitchell lay quietly, eyes shielded. He had to take his arm away. He took it away. He opened his eyes, looking up at Jordan who was leaning over him. He was looking serious. Mitchell frowned and then smiled a little.
"If this is what the Choosing is about, I won't worry a second," Jordan said, "but you cannot tell anyone about this. I don't want anybody to know that you have corn holed me. Can I trust you?" and he rolled himself on his front on the grass, stretching, his light brown naked ass exposed to the sun, a little wet trail seeping down from the cleft.
Mitchell just looked at his friend and smiled.
"Sure, don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
He'd enjoyed this at least as much as Jordan. But he wasn't so sure this is something he wanted more of. With boys that is.
It was only when he got up that he noticed the two spectators at the far end of the barn. His dad and Curtis! What the f...! He thought, but before he could get up, he saw Curtis waving at him, making a thumps-up gesture and pulling his dad with him, discretely disappearing behind the corner before Jordan could notice.
***
One team after the other finally reached the destination at the lake for that night, and the Mackey boys were pleased that the leaders had chosen the cove between the Sugar Creek and Indian Point as the place to stay for the night. The boys loved the place, as it was more or less their private space at the lake, away from adult supervision. They had fun with the Bradley boys explaining the name Bare Butt Cove and the reputation, and soon most boys jumped into the water, some in their swim shorts, others dressed in accordance with the name of the cove, followed by the British scouts who still prudish kept their swim gear on.
"Last one in is a rotten egg!" Elliott yelled after he had dropped his backpack and had rapidly changed in his swim shorts, and the other boys quickly shed their socks, shoes and shirts as fast as possible.
With his head start, Elliott reached the water first. The cool lake water immediately engulfed him, filling his nose with the scent of lake water. He shot his head up above the water, and looked around to see next to him Brixton who was wiping water out of his eyes, and on the pebble beach, Edward preparing to jump in with Tobias. Elliott stared at Tobias's body, mesmerized. He was a muscular 15-year-old with a developed six-pack stretched from the bottom of his chest, and morphed into a V down into his shorts with his pecks standing out, and his arms bulging. The kid was fucking ripped. He caught a glimpse from Tobias who had clearly noticed that he was staring at him and he quickly dived under water and swam a couple of yards to resurface behind Edward.
"Watch out!" he heard Edward yell a little too late as he felt somebody knock him under water: it took him a second to realize what had happened, and then he figured it out as his face was under Tobias's ass underwater. They both got back to the surface and he punched him in the arm as he mocked being hurt. Brixton, David, Darrell and a few of the younger boys joined them and they all set out for a little roughhousing in the water.
Elliott felt a hand land on his ass underwater, fingers just on the edge of his crack, and he yelped when it squeezed really hard, smashing the malleable muscle of his left butt cheek. Everyone looked at him like he was crazy, Edward and Ralph being on his right, and Brixton and Tobias being on his left. It could have been any of the four, so he thrust out his hand to the left and grabbed the first ass he could find, and judging by the wide-eyed look, he'd say it was Tobias's. The feeling had him horned up like crazy, the soft mound of Tobias's ass felt so smooth, even through his swim shorts, trying his best to slip his fingers as close to his hole as possible. He squeezed hard, fingers digging into his ass, as he let out a yell similar to his.
That was a declaration of war.
Soon every few seconds someone would laugh or yell in surprise when their ass was grabbed, splashing each other and rough housing in a game of grab ass as it got chaotic. Soon they were just reaching out and trying to grab at each other, teaming up to pull down the swim shorts which they threw cheering onto the beach, once they bared another ass. Elliott happily joined the play, proud that he had still managed to keep his on while Tobias had already lost his shorts in the game, and he was grabbing each ass within his reach, pinching it fiercely. He reached out again, but instead of the smooth ass of Brixton, or the hard-chiseled naked ass of Tobias, he instead felt his hand grab someone's junk, felt the balls and slightly hard cock through the fabric, slipped a finger on the crotch, rubbed against the head. He left his hand there for a few seconds to see what would happen, too much water being splashed and too much movement happening for him to know whom he was groping, or for them to know he was the one doing it. The dick got hard quickly, and his hand was pulled away when he was tackled from behind. When he resurfaced and wiped the water from his eyes, he saw Nick looking at him with a devilish smile, raising his finger as to warn him not to do that again.
Elliott laughed and wondered why Nick was dressed in swim shorts, as he had expected Nick to be the first one to jump in naked. He dived under water as soon as Nick turned his back to him and swam towards him, and pulled his trunks down, leaving his butt bare just below the water surface, for everyone to see.
Nick wildly protested and tried to pull up his shorts, but Darrell joined Elliott in the fight and after some wild splashing, he triumphantly held up Nick's shorts and with a big swing, he threw them onto the pebble beach, close to where Arthur Richter sat.
Cursing, Nick stayed awhile below the waterline, but when he moved to the shore eventually, he couldn't hide his two red, blistered buns.
"What is that?" Arthur asked, pointing at the sore ass.
"Ehm, that's poison ivy, I fell into that," Nick replied, and quickly pulled his shorts up.
"Fell?" Arthur asked, "doesn't look like falling to me. I've had a poison ivy rash before, but it was never as bad as this."
Nick looked at the boy searchingly. "Why aren't you in the water?"
"Nâh, I prefer to stay here for a while. If I join the fight there, the odds are that I'll have a dick up my ass before the blink of an eye. I'm Blue, remember?"
Nick nodded. "You okay with being a Blue-brief boy?"
"Yeah, I'll survive. I don't like to be fucked but everyone is nice, so I'll live. What about you?"
"I'm not Blue anymore, thanks to these English guys, but, yeah, same for me, although I tried to weasel out."
"Huh?"
"Don't tell anyone, but this rash, it's poison ivy alright, but I rubbed it in deliberately to avoid being fucked. It itches like hell and even worse, it's all for nothing: I ain't a blue briefs boy anymore. Please don't tell anyone I did this."
Arthur looked at him for a second and then burst out into laughter, making Nick blush and trying to quiet him down a little.
Fortunately for Nick, no one was paying any attention, as the boys in the water might not have even heard the laugh, so the fight went on, even got wilder, and the wrestling continued until a leader on the pebble beach told them to be careful and knock it off.
The boys apologized and set back to swimming and floating in the Cove. At least two of them were harder than diamonds from the exchange. The soft material of Elliott's swim shorts was rubbing against his cock head, sending a shiver through his crotch every time he kicked his legs in the water.
While the other boys stepped out of the water, Tobias and Elliott stayed, floating a little, enjoying the cool fresh water. Without making a sound, Tobias dived under water and swam towards Elliot, and when he resurfaced, he grabbed him playfully and wrestled him under. Elliott grabbed him back and they wrestled their way through the fresh water. Elliott was surprisingly strong for a young boy as Tobias realized he was only a year younger than he was. Still, he was much bigger, so he should be able to hold Elliott. He got his arms around him, pinning him, holding him tight against him. They could barely stand on the rocky bottom, as Tobias pressed his belly and groin into the back of the younger boy, squeezing him forcefully and waiting for his grunt of submission. The grunt came, but it was more a grunt of passion, than of pain.
Elliott couldn't move. Something hot and hard was pushing against his butt. It took him a moment to work out what it was and another moment to realize he was hot and hard and pushing his butt back against the hardness he knew it to be the erection of the boy who was holding him.
Tobias's cock was stiff, hot and hard, protruding from his loins and fencing against Elliott's bubble butt. He kept Elliott tight for a while until he was sure that he had noticed his big cock in his crack. Elliott did notice and submitted to the fierce grip of the older boy, making no move of resistance anymore.
"You like this, don't you?"
Elliott sighed. Tobias's warm body against him in the cool water felt good, and his huge cock pressing in his cleft made his dick inflate.
"I'm not Blue anymore," he whispered, sounding almost disappointed.
"I know, but I thought you liked it," Tobias replied hopefully.
He indeed had enjoyed being Blue for this short period. It was strange: he was not gay, nevertheless he loved the feeling of a cock passing his sphincter, rubbing his prostate, and of all the boys who had fucked him, Tobias was especially nice to him.
"I do, but we can't do it here," he protested weakly.
Tobias grinned. He liked Elliott very much. Not just as a fuck toy, although popping his cherry and fucking the boy for a second time had been great, but there was something different about him. Despite the almost 1½ year age difference, it felt like a warm friendship. And the way Elliott reacted showed that he felt the same.
"We can try," Tobias whispered and then with his free hand, he pushed Elliott's swim shorts down and freed his own boner from its confinement, pushing it into the cleft between Elliott's white buns.
"Wait Tobias," Elliott protested softly, "you can't do that here."
"Nobody will notice, and besides, this is Bare Butt Cove," Tobias whispered back, softly moaning when he moved his sensitive knob up and down the crack.
"Lube," Elliott groaned, "we need lubricant."
"We can try with my precum," Tobias suggested, already too horny to think clearly.
He pushed his cock against the pucker in an attempt to enter, but Elliott stiffened.
"Auch...!," he protested, "that hurt. Please, not here."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Let's do it back in the meadow deeper in the Cove then," Tobias proposed while he stopped pushing and let his dick rest between the warm buns.
Elliott sighed surrendering and nodded in agreement.
Enjoying the situation, waiting for the next move, Tobias relaxed his grip on Elliott for only a brief moment: that was enough time for Elliott. He unexpectedly pushed Tobias backwards, and as he tumbled back, Elliott turned and swung his legs around Tobias's neck and held on, shouting a warrior's cry over his victory. Boys on the pebble shore looked up and smiled at the playing boys.
They were now in the shallow end but Tobias found it impossible to keep his feet as Elliott held on as tightly as he could.
Tobias coughed, spluttered, and laughed, which made him swallow even more water. He laughed until he felt Elliott's balls squashed against his chin as the boy locked his legs behind his neck, he also laughed until he realized Elliott's stiff cock was pushing against his lips and nose, he laughed until he realized his throat was crushed into his crack.
Right! He had younger brothers. He knew how to play rough. He took in a deep breath and deliberately let himself slide underwater taking Elliott with him. As they sank to the bottom, he twisted his legs around Elliott's waist in a scissors grip and held on. Elliott's legs relaxed and slid from his neck and shoulders. Tobias pressed home his advantage and pinned him to the bottom of the Creek while his head remained just above the surface, grinning triumphantly as he pulled in breath after breath, and let go off Elliott.
When he came up spluttering, Tobias reached out to support the boy and pulled him against him, this time not in a playful fight, but in a caring embrace. He loved the feeling of the warm flesh against his belly in the cool water and ever so softly humped the tender buns of the no longer protesting boy.
He pushed his raging boner into Elliot's crack again and whispered, "shall we...?"
While most boys played in the water, Simon sat at the shore, together with Hugh Bradley and Howard Miller. They were leisurely skipping stones over the water surface as they watched the boys frolic, and they started talking about the camp, the games they had played and the hike.
"My granddad told me last year about the rules your family set for all boys in your town, and I always wondered if these rules were ever changed, and how you change these rules," Simon asked, still thinking about the things that were happening back home.
"Well, there were hardly any changes since they were put up. My grandfather added only a few, like the formal relation edict, and some clarifications about the limits, but that's it, as far as I know," Hugh replied: "the majority of the rules are still the same as they were decades ago."
"And when you are in charge later, are you going to change these rules?"
"I don't know if I can. My great-granddad Horatio has set almost everything in stone when he started this. Currently my granddad, Lord Alan Bradley, is in charge, even worse, my dad is now Master of the Village Circle that is involved in any change. And although I might be the heir to the empire, it is not with unlimited powers, unfortunately, at least not for a long time," he sighed. "What about you?"
"I don't know exactly what my powers will be, maybe not unlimited either, but my dad and granddad own the Trust that has ownership of the land, the houses and the trading rights, and, by the way, they run the place: I guess it will be a bit more than you, at least, I hope so." He kept silent for a while, pensively playing with his blue wristband, the dreaded token of his position in the Mackey community.
"You want to change things then?"
"Oh, absolutely," Simon said, sounding almost eager, and he filled the two Bradley boys in. They were impressed by how Simon and his friend Tom were trying to get this free-fuck-fest eliminated, or at least reduced to normal proportions, and soon the three were exchanging ideas on how they would like to change their lives, and the lives of the other boys, now and in the future.
When the scoutmaster told the boys to get out of the water and prepare themselves for the hobo-meal cooking, Simon and Hugh had already discussed all the varieties for new or adjusted rules, ranging from complete abandoning the Choosing to setting up a new system like with volunteers or a lottery, adjustments like reciprocity, reducing the term and the eligible ages.
The leaders had arranged for canvas sails to cover as tents, and thin mattresses for the boys who hadn't brought their own inflatables, and they set the teams at work to build their shelter for the night.
Every team started a campfire in a stone fire ring at the pebble beach, between the water and the canvas shelters. They made a tripod and attached a Dutch oven to it, hanging over the fire.
Anthony surprised the boys by bringing a cooler full of hot dogs and cans of baked beans to cook, and Anthony added potatoes, onions, grinded meat and smoked bacon to put into a cast-iron pot, even flour and stuff for making bread.
After they had eaten their hot dogs and beans and scooped the tasty food from the Dutch ovens, they sat around the campfire, toasting marshmallows for dessert.
Dennis and the other assistant scoutmasters gave them the rundown for the next day's activities. First, they will hike back to the camp, and then they will spend the rest of the day working on their merit badges in tying knots, tracking, identifying plants, and stuff. They all groaned: working on merit badges was fun, but the whole afternoon?
The scoutmaster smiled when he heard the protests and said,
"Do I hear some protests? We can skip the merit badges if you prefer, but then you'll miss out on the most exciting part..."
The boys frowned and looked at him wonderingly.
"If you'd rather not work on the badges, it's okay, I'll cancel the Marksmanship merit badge training for you."
The Mackey scouts roared and hastened themselves to shout, "No, no, merit badges it is!" leaving the British boys bewildered. What was all this about? What is that Marksmanship merit badge that got the Mackey scouts so excited?
The scoutmaster noticed the confusion.
"I guess you don't know what Marksmanship is, do you?" and he explained that this was the old-fashioned name for what had been changed some ten years ago into Rifle and Shotgun Shooting, but the Mackey, traditionalists as they were, still used the old name. The British boys were perplexed. Shooting at a Boy scout camp? That was something unheard of. Shooting a gun back home in England was not allowed, even just having a gun was considered a criminal offence.
Julian Kerr, the English scoutmaster smiled and reassured the boys that it was okay. There would be extra staff to help, and everything done with firearms would be legal here. Now the English boys understood why the U.S. scouts were so excited and they also joined into the excitement enthusiastically.
That night, the boys were too tired for any fun. A first group was already snoring, and another one was trying to find sleeping spots in the pitch dark.
Dustin, Simon and David stayed awhile longer near the dimming fire, talking about the Choosing. Simon was reluctant to tell Dustin about what he knew from Tom and kept it to himself. He had had some discussions before with Dustin about the Choosing and after the chat with Hugh Bradley he was desperate to know the views of other boys so he asked Dustin and David what their opinion was about changing, the Choosing.
As before, Dustin had mixed feelings. Even though now he was on the receiving end of fucks, he was still thinking about the pleasures this tradition was offering him. He didn't dare to let his friend down by stating that he enjoyed the institution as he felt sorry for Simon who was a victim, but he didn't want it to stop either since he had been lucky to draw the long straw at the choosing of bottoms, apart from these last days, that is.
"To be honest," David said pensively, "this whole Bottom business sounds good when it is explained as a theory, but in real life, well, I'm not so sure."
"Have you changed your mind now that you're a bottom at this camp?" Dustin asked.
"No, not really, well, maybe a little, but I've had my reservations all along."
"But you've used Community Bottoms, haven't you?"
"Yeah, I have," David confessed, "and quite often, I must confess. You know, I don't know anyone who hasn't used a Bottom at least once. When you're 12 or 13 years old, this whole sex thing tends to take over, and, by the time you're 16, it is so much part of your daily ritual that you almost forget that you have a hand you could use instead."
Simon looked sideways at David, and their eyes crossed.
"I think you know the difference between horny boys who just want a better feeling on their dick than from their own hand and simply use a Bottom for this, and boys who just want getting to know their body and new feelings, as well as play with friends," David said addressing Simon.
Simon nodded.
Dustin stared into the flames, realizing that quite often he was one of those boys who just wanted some relief. With Simon, it was different, he was his friend, but he knew that even with Simon, sex started more as lust than as friendship.
David noticed the guilty look in Dustin's face when he saw him glancing at Simon.
"I think you're experiencing horny boys mostly now," David said to Dustin.
Dustin shivered a little. Having lived in Mackey-land all his life, he had taken traditions for granted, even the Choosing, but he knew he had been on the lucky side. The risk of being turned at a White Party was `all in the game' so, after the initial shock, he just coped with it, without really enjoying it, though. He knew exactly what David meant about the difference between horny boys and friends to play with. But wearing blue briefs only at camp meant just being a short-term fuck toy for the horny boys: and believe it, a fuck toy he had become.
"Now you know what it is like to be a Bottom. You've experienced it from both sides now. I guess that makes you value your friendship with Simon even more, doesn't it?"
Simon grinned at the `from both sides now' and was a little puzzled at what David meant with valuing their friendship.
"Yeah, I guess so," Dustin said meekly.
"Boys having sex together is much more common, even outside the Mackey land, than the adults make us believe," David continued, noticing the pensive look on both boys' faces. "And having `special' friendships is quite common too, like you have with Simon, or Tom has with Simon for that matter."
Simon's heart skipped a beat. What did he mean, was what he had with Tom so obvious?
David noticed Simon's shocked reaction and smiled reassuringly,
"It's always good to have dear friends, whether you have sex with them or not. And even with our tradition where Bottoms are plenty available, lots of boys still have their fun with friends."
"Do you have your fun with friends too?" Simon asked.
David sat silent for a minute and confirmed,
"Yep."
Before Dustin could ask him if that meant `have had a long time ago', or `still have', David continued,
"I've used a lot of Community Bottoms, many just for short-lived fun, just being horny. But I had my special friend too. Still have."
Simon and Dustin looked up at the boy who was so honestly disclosing his private life.
"Look around, and you'll notice it yourself. These two Brits, Hugh and Howard, they're not homos, they're `special friends' sharing intimacy. And did you notice Elliott and Tobias this afternoon, playing in the water? And did you notice the scoutmaster and Anthony?"
Simon nodded. He had noticed the closeness of these two as well, but thought nothing of it. But yeah, maybe there was more.
Simon was still chewing on David's revelation. At 17, was David still having sex with his friend? He suddenly remembered what Mr. Donald Ferguson had told him a couple of months ago when he was sitting in the diner of the Arcade just before closing time.
Mr. Ferguson had just finished cleaning up and had kicked the boys out of the Arcade to close it, and was sitting with him, a beer in hand. He couldn't remember exactly what brought it up, but quite quickly they had a chat about Bottoms and boys using them. It was Mr. Ferguson who had started talking about two gay boys, Wesley and Greg, who had frequented his arcade before, and soon he was telling some stories from the old days. Mr. Ferguson wasn't surprised or mad when he had asked him about his reputation and the somewhat `misty' tall tales that spread among the boys and some adults as well and, after he made Simon promise to keep this confidential, he even shared some of his most personal experiences from the time he was a Community Bottom and after.
What David had just said, matched with Mr. Ferguson's stories about special friendships that last way longer than just puberty, even up to the point that some married men had a `second marriage'.
Although tired from the hike, sleep didn't come too quickly as Simon was musing about all the things that had now stirred his young life quite a lot.
***
Breakfast wasn't just a quick thing the next morning. The sun was already quite warm, and a couple of scouts who were earning their merit badge for cooking sweated on baking bread over the fire. Several free boys played around in the water, while others lay lazily on their sleeping bags, saving energy for a day full of tiring events ahead, watching two boys losing their blue briefs in the process to fulfil their duty.
The trip from Bare Butt Cove back to camp was a bit shorter than the previous day and the boys were eager to return, knowing what awaited them that afternoon. The British boys were especially quite excited: this was a once in a lifetime chance to shoot with rifles, real guns!
It was early afternoon when the last teams arrived, and the boys took turns to freshen themselves up under the cold water of the showers, and while the scouts took their turn under the showerhead, the first trucks arrived, bringing the necessary support for the afternoon: over 50 scouts shooting rifles was something that needed extra support and organization.
The English boys stood agape when they saw the 5 pick-up trucks coming, each carrying two or three men, who jumped out and unloaded an astonishing number of firearms.
The scoutmaster welcomed the support: some former scouts, now young men in their twenties and thirties, a couple of dads as well.
"Hey John," the scoutmaster welcomed Mr. Havers when he planted a box of ammunition outside the building, "good to see ye. Great, you have the opportunity to assist us today. We definitely can use some professional help here."
"My pleasure," he answered, "you know I love to teach the young ones how to handle a gun. How's my boy, by the way?"
"He's doing great," the scoutmaster said, turning to look around to see if Harry was around somewhere. "There he is!" and he pointed in the direction of the fireplace where Harry stood with a couple of British scouts, wearing nothing but his t-shirt, flip-flops and blue briefs.
Mr. Havers looked surprised at first when he saw his son dressed like that, but with a broad, mischievous smile on his face he walked up to the boys and said,
"Howdy guys! Having fun this camp?"
The boys enthusiastically nodded, but Harry blushed deeply as his dad looked at him from head to toe and joked, "well, well, Harry, working on your special merit badge, I see," and pointed at the smallish blue briefs that barely covered his boyhood, exposing a few hairs.
"Oh please, dad," Harry moaned embarrassed, but he knew his dad wouldn't just stop until the humiliation was complete.
"Is he doing a good job, boys?" he asked, turning to the other boys who felt pity for Harry once they realized that it was his dad seeing him here in his blue briefs, obviously knowing what that meant. The boys awkwardly nodded and mumbled a little, but John laughed out loud and ruffled his boy's hair,
"Come on boys, don't be shy, nothing wrong here. I've been a scout at White Parties myself, been there, done that."
Harry rolled his eyes at his dad's remark. He wasn't sure what embarrassed him most: his dad seeing him wearing blue briefs knowing what that meant, or his dad's implicit suggestion that he'd been in the same position.
"Ehw, Dad," Harry protested at the remark, making a disgusted face, and some boys chuckled.
"Have fun boys," John said, and turned away to get ready for the program.
Keith Richter and Ryan Mackey greeted their dads, Ryan happily hopping around telling his dad about all the fun he had had, wisely leaving out the fact that he was wearing blue briefs under his shorts and was no virgin anymore, secretly hoping that this story about sending the white underwear back home was not true.
Mr. Mackey looked around to see his son Leroy but couldn't find him, and he continued to unload the truck, placing four huge rifles on the table.
"Get ready boys," one of the other Mackey men shouted, indicating the helpers and the scout leaders to begin with the preparations.
"Do you know where Leroy is?" Mr. Mackey asked David when he walked past him.
"I saw him heading to the tent a while ago, I think he's in there," David replied, pointing at the Mackey tent behind him.
"Okay, thanks, I'll have a look."
While the men prepared for the training, Darrell said,
"Before we start, I want to take a shower first, I was last in from the hike," and he waved his towel, turning towards the showers.
"I'll take one too," joined Simon, "I'll get a towel, be right back," he said as he turned and headed for the Mackey tent to get his stuff.
When Leroy's dad reached the tent, Jonathan Mackey came out with a blissful post-orgasmic smirk on his face, but when his father entered, he immediately saw his son just pulling up his blue briefs.
"What the hell does that mean?" he fulminated, "you are a Blue at a White Party?" Even before Leroy could explain that it was merely bad luck in a card game, and that it had nothing to do with punishment for misbehavior, his dad continued with a demeaning tone, "How could you sink so low?"
He had never expected his son to be wearing blue briefs. Blue boys as he remembered from his days at the scouts were boys who had broken troop rules or had been fucked by other boys. And now, his son, wearing blue briefs ? The only thing he was hoping for was that it was because of trespassing troop rules. The other option was too awful to think about.
Just before Simon entered the tent to get his towel, he heard the man saying,
"...no, I don't want any excuses. That will teach you, and I guess you even like this!"
From the back of the tent came a weak, protesting sound that was overpowered by the next outburst,
"And I hope that you get porked a lot by Simon, since you've cost me a loan this winter by how you treated that boy: now it's your turn to pay. My son a Blue, a fag," he spat, almost growling.
Just before Simon entered the tent, the angry dad turned away from his son and rushed out, leaving his boy trembling.
"Ah Simon," he said when he met him outside the entrance of the tent, "you're just in time: Leroy is inside, ready for you to fuck him good. It's okay with me to make his ass pay for what he did to you. No need to go easy on him. Enjoy the ride." He tapped Simon on the shoulder and he threw a last mean look over his shoulder at the devastated Leroy before he turned and left.
Simon and Leroy stood there without moving, speechlessly looking at each other. Never before had Simon seen Leroy, the bully, the loud-mouthed bragger, looking so pale and trembling, his shoulders lifelessly hanging down.
They stood there both not knowing what to do next, and then suddenly Leroy snapped. He dropped on his knees and started to cry, shaking, and bowed his head between his knees in shame.
Simon gulped. He had overheard what Leroy's dad had said, and although Leroy had been very mean to him, had mistreated him several times, acted as a bully to him and to so many other boys, after hearing what his dad said, he felt sorry for him. With such a dad as an example, no wonder that the boy turned into a bully.
He kneeled next to Leroy and whispered softly, "It's okay Leroy, I'm sorry I witnessed this, but I won't tell anyone, ever. I won't think less of you either."
The leaders called the boys to set the rules for the afternoon, and explained all about safety, how to behave around firearms, the earplugs for hearing protection they definitely would need. The boys politely listened to the unavoidable sermon about how hunting is related to the wise use of renewable wildlife resources, the kinds of wildlife that can be legally hunted in the state, and the main points of hunting laws in the state and some special laws on the use of guns and ammunition.
They divided the boys in five groups, each accompanied by a leader and two or three Mackey men, and then they went off to the riverside, near the bend where many years ago the Mackey had created a huge shooting range.
The first one and a half hour flew by, and when all the boys had their first exercises with the BB guns and pellet air rifles, and the .22 caliber rim fire rifles, they gathered to get some drinks and a snack.
While the boys stood chattering, red-cheeked from excitement, Simon saw Mr. Mackey and Mr. Havers and his son standing aside, near the waterfront. What he had overheard earlier, the mean and degrading words of Mr. Mackey regarding Leroy, just lay heavily on his heart and, in an impulse of justice, he decided to say something about it.
"Mr. Mackey, can I have a word with you, please?"
"Sure boy, go ahead."
"I mean, in private," Simon replied, a bit surprised that the man didn't have the sensitivity to understand that if he just had something to say, he wouldn't have asked for it.
But Mr. Mackey wouldn't have it and simply said, "you can tell me now".
Simon gulped. He was determined to tell Leroy's dad what he thought about his remarks when they met outside the tent earlier this afternoon, but he wasn't really prepared to do it in public, with another man and his son listening.
But the blunt remark triggered an angry reaction, and if this man was so insensitive, he could have it in his face, Simon thought.
"It's about what you said when we met in the tent," he began.
Now Mr. Mackey realized that this could be going the wrong way. He didn't care for private discussions with youngsters, but the serious look in Simon's face made him clear that the subject most likely would be this incident about his son earlier.
Simon was too upset by the man's blunt behavior that he didn't sense that Mr. Mackey was trying to move away from Harry Havers and his dad.
"What you've said is unacceptable, Mr. Mackey," he began, looking the man straight in the eyes, "I think it is very inappropriate to invite me to fuck Leroy good and wish me to enjoy the ride."
Harry and his dad stood perplexed, and Mr. Mackey turned pale first, then red with some upcoming anger, as he made an attempt to step away from the Havers,
"Well, come, let's talk over there."
But Simon didn't budge.
"And I couldn't help overhearing that you were talking to Leroy in the tent when I came in," he continued. "I think it's a bloody shame to call Leroy a fag because he has to wear blue briefs at a White Party, and tell him you're hoping that I will `pork him a lot', and suggesting that he even would like that."
The three stood dumbfounded, the Havers were shocked (although Harry did his best to hide a very proud grin) and Mr. Mackey alternating between anger and shame.
Simon just stood there, relieved that he'd said it, not caring for the reaction that might come.
Mr. Mackey was searching for words. Part of him wanted to smack the unabashed boy, part of him realized that eating the humble pie would be better: the Havers were a peculiar kind and could be very unpredictable, and this boy came from the influential family that could make or break him.
"Well, ehm..., yes..., you're right," he stuttered, "I'm sorry you had to hear that."
Simon looked at him and spat back, "It's not about me overhearing you; it's about what you said. That was wrong and hurtful for Leroy to no extent also."
"I'm sorry: I shouldn't have said what I said at all. I love Leroy, of course, but he's been a handful lately," but when he saw Simon raising his eyebrow and tilting his head meaningfully, he hastened to add, "but I know that's not an excuse to call him a fag because he wears blue briefs."
"There is no excuse for calling a boy a fag," Harry interjected, which earned him an angry look from his dad who clearly thought it inappropriate for his son to join the public reprimand.
But Mr. Mackey felt defeated and simply said, "true", and turned to Simon,
"You're right, Simon. I owe you my apologies," and he stretched his arm out to Simon. But Simon didn't take the hand, and for 5 very awkward seconds, Mr. Mackey stood there and said, "but even more I owe my apologies to Leroy. I'm a lousy dad."
This time Simon took that hand and shook it.
Mr. Mackey left quickly, and the three looked at each other.
"Wow," was the only thing Mr. Havers uttered, and with a smile, shaking his head he turned away leaving the two boys alone.
Eager to proceed with the shooting, the boys had wolfed down the snacks and drinks in a record time and were ready for the second half of the afternoon.
When the groups were already busy with shooting, Simon saw Mr. Mackey and Leroy coming from the far end of the range joining their teams again.
The next one and a half hour flew by as quickly as the first, and a disappointed `aahhhww' sounded when the scoutmaster blew the whistle to indicate that today's shooting fun was over.
Back at the camp, the boys helped packing the trucks, and worked hard to prepare the campfire to have dinner with the men who had helped to make this day such a great one.
Harry leaned over to Simon and said,
"Leroy must be working his ass off on a senior merit badge in sainthood all of a sudden," which set the boys off laughing. The other guys wanted to know what they were laughing at, but they just smiled and shrugged their shoulders.
"I hope that this will mean there will be one asshole less to vote for my little brother Gordon at the Choosing," Harry continued, and added sounding a little worried, "and now I know what it is to be a Bottom, I'll try to protect him as much as I can."
It was clear that both Leroy and his dad had learned an important lesson: Leroy about messing around with vulnerable people and who now had found out how it felt when he was the one at the receiving end, and his dad, a lesson about messing with an upset Simon Allan.
Simon was just happy that, in the end, things turned for the better between father and son.
***
The decision to release Hugo from his burden as Community Bottom raised some anger in Mackey land, and the public Council meeting today was quite tumultuous. Although most men understood the rationale, several men didn't agree with the solution, and even less with the fact that it was a Council decision with not all members present.
But Richard Alan refreshed their memories, reminding them that it was not without precedent as in 1925 Nathaniel Mackey, a Community Bottom from Charles Mackey's clan was discharged after one month, so the men agreed with ending Hugo's assignment.
What had followed were heated discussions, not only on the dismissal of Hugo without punishment, but even fiercer discussions on the proposed change of rules.
Some members wanted to punish Hugo as he spilled secrets, but others thought that they were to blame as well, not picking up the problems the boy had.
The Council prepared a set of possible changes to discuss and ultimately to propose to the Board.
Surprisingly, quite a few men actually supported the idea of getting rid of the Choosing altogether, not only men who had been Community Bottom themselves or one of their sons.
But in the end, there was no common ground on a proposal, so the Council decided to discuss the matter with the Board, and find a way to consult the boys involved as well.
Oliver Mackey, the new Master of the Ceremony for the upcoming Choosing had followed the discussions. He was disappointed to no extent. Finally, he had gotten this highly regarded position and, suddenly, the whole Choosing was disputed. That wasn't fair he thought, so he tried to persuade as many men as he could to support the Choosing as a valued tradition that should be kept forever. But deep in his heart, he feared that the Choosing would be cancelled.
***
Next episode:
The end of camp
What will happen with the Choosing?
To be continued...