Camp Lookout 12
This story is adult fiction with homoerotic episodes. If you are a minor or are likely to be offended, please read no further. If you are reading further, please consider a donation to nifty.org to help keep this service free and available to all.
Reminder: My stories are always total fiction. Yet some real events and some real places may be used to add reality.
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CAMP LOOKOUT
by Macout Mann
XII
The session continues without problems.
Liam Cunningham, the six weeks camper who was one-upped at the first Capture the Flag event, is up to his same shit the second time around, however. This time Eric decides to play. Liam's ass is about to be had for a second time.
Once again Liam appoints himself Captain of his team. This time he is a Shirt. Both the Choctaws and Mohicans are Skins, so Eric can involve Ben in his plan. In baseball, Ben can not only pitch and hit, he seems to run as fast as a ball can be thrown. He is never out at first.
Eric figures that Liam will not have learned his lesson, and will repeat his strategy from the first session. So he and several others hide in the woods near where Liam has stationed himself. Two or three younger Skins allow themselves to be captured. Then Ben appears and teases Liam by getting him to run around in circles trying to catch him. When Liam is hacked off enough, Ben races across the field, causing Liam to chase him away from where the flag is hidden.
In no time Eric and his cohorts find the flag and successfully carry it home. It is the shortest game in memory. And Eric gives most of the credit for the win to Ben.
"There's lots of time left before 'lights-out,'" Eric says, as leads Ben back into the woods. "I'll bet you've never messed around in the night air."
"I'd never fucked around after dark `til I came down here," Ben says.
Eric draws Ben close. His own cutoffs are already down around his feet. His chest pressed against Ben's naked back, he plants his hard dick against the denim covering Ben's ass and begins to feel up and down Ben's chest and gut. When he reaches Ben's waist, he undoes his cutoffs.
"Don't you love the cool breeze on your bod?" he asks.
"Yeah. That's great. Back home I'll have to go out some night and find me a john that wants to do this."
"My dick's getting chilled by the night air. It needs a warm blanket." Eric teases.
"Sure it does. Stuff me, motherfucker."
While Ben is with Eric, two other Mohicans are sitting together on the riverbank. Fritz Kruger is fifteen, from near Demopolis, Alabama. His family has farmed a two section plantation since before the Civil War. John Poole is the fourteen-year-old son of a lawyer in Greenville, South Carolina.
"They say it was Ben that lured that guy away, so they could get the flag," John says.
"Yeah. You know...he's from Philadelphia. I wish I was from someplace like that. Nothing ever happens on the farm. The only time I even get to see a girl--a white girl--is at church or at school. And the girls at school all seem to have boyfriends in town.
"I don't know what it'd be like in a big city, but I know I'd be doing something besides beating my meat. That's all I do back home. You jack off a lot?"
John doesn't know what to say. "Uh...yeah. Like...I guess everybody does, don't they? Nothing to be ashamed of." he finally answers.
"And hell," Fritz continues, "at camp you can't even find a place to beat off."
"I heard that."
"I gotta cum. You mind if play with myself?"
"What if somebody sees you?"
"It's dark. Nobody's goanna."
Fritz opens his fly, pulls out his hard dick, and starts to seek the relief he needs. Watching, John soon does the inevitable. He pulls out his tool and follows suit.
"You do me and I'll do you," Fritz says.
First time for everything?
Malcolm receives a letter from Mason Harriman. He plans to fly to Atlanta this Saturday. He'll rent a car and drive to the camp via I75 and GA140. He doesn't want to arrive until Ben has left. Malcolm calls and tells him Ben will be leaving first thing after breakfast, so he has nothing to worry about.
"So I guess we'll have to be celibate, while he's here," Chester says.
"Not unless you're as loud as you usually are," Malcolm answers.
Friday Malcolm summons Ben to his office. Ben is sure he's fucked up somehow. Maybe they've found out he's been fucking around.
"Ben," Malcolm begins, "I've been watching you."
"Oh shit," Ben thinks to himself.
"I think you've really enjoyed being here, and I know camp has helped you in lots of ways," Malcolm continues.
"Yes, sir." Ben lightens up a little bit.
"We've been wondering if you would like to come back next year."
"Oh yes, sir." Ben can't believe his ears.
"You won't be on the same program you were this year," Malcolm explains. "You would have to arrange your own transportation--bus, I suppose, instead of plane--but you wouldn't be charged anything when you got here."
"I could do that. I've got a way to make some extra money."
"That's good. And we could put you in the Choctaw Cabin."
"Oh? Is that something special?"
"Well, if your friends haven't told you, you'll find out in good time."
Tentative arrangements are made.
That night after skits Eric, Ben, Russel, and Noah get together for one last time.
"Mr. Partridge told me I could be in the Choctaw Cabin next year like there was something special about that.," Ben says
.
The others laugh. "You haven't noticed that the three of us are all in Choctaw?" Eric asks.
"Yes, but..." Then he gets it. "Son of a bitch! You mean all the Choctaws mess around?"
"You got it," Russel laughs.
The very idea makes Ben's dick spring to attention, and Noah wastes no time in going down on him. Soon been reciprocates. They lay in the grass in a sixty-nine. The other two boys do the same. Soon Eric suggests they change partners.
"I gotta have some Noah ass for the last time," he says.
"Well I need me a Florida boy for the last time," Ben responds.
No preliminaries as Eric and Ben both mount the objects of their lustful desires. They pound away, and Russel and Noah have the thrill of being screwed without mercy.
"You guys are fucking animals," Russel laughs.
"And aint it great?" Ben responds. "I can't wait for next year."
Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.