Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/camping/canvas-hell/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between young-adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
I felt his lips, his teeth, his tongue. His arms around my back. His amazing strength and immeasurable tenderness. His unquenchable desire to be everything for everyone and the terrible knowledge that he would fail. The bristly hair beneath his shirt and the bulge of his muscles. His broad, broad back and thick neck. His essential and inescapable goodness, bravery, resignation, determination. His... Karlness. I pulled back and looked at him. His eye stayed closed and I reached up tenderly to wipe away the wetness on his strong cheeks. "So, what was kissing like, Karl?"
Canvas Hell 19: The 'L' Word
By Bear Pup
T/T; self-discovery; - Wednesday evening, Thursday
Karl didn't open his eyes, just sat and let the tears leak out. Without warning, he literally collapsed into me, nearly taking us both off the log. He started, I dunno, blubbering. He'd sob and speak at the same time. "God, Patrick! How. How can you. How can ANYONE stand that? How can, how could, how can you DO that? How could you STOP? It hurts, Patrick. O, GOD, it hurts so mu-u-u-u-ch!" The words stopped and the sobs intensified. I clung to him, completely at a loss. It hurt? How? It would honestly be many years before I truly understood what had happened to Karl that afternoon. I let him cry it out, broken words and phrases in the key of soul-ripping pain sprinkled throughout.
With an abruptness that made me yelp, Karl was on his feet and walking -- fast -- back toward camp. Perhaps a hundred yards later, he dropped onto a rock like he'd been shot and used his tee-shirt to wipe his face. Karl's pain actually hurt me more that I could express. On the other hand, I was a 17-year-old boy who was just awakening to his desires. Karl's fur-covered stomach and chest made my innards quiver.
I put my hand on his shoulder and he jumped then began to shake, never looking at me as he put back on the tough, unflappable mask he normally showed everyone... everyone but me and Jim. When he stood back up, no one other than the denizens of Camp Canvas Hell (and, I suspect, Dr Eaglas) could guess what was under that mask or what it was costing him to wear it right now.
I was shocked speechless. I had seen Karl weep before, and had seen him break down, and I'd seen him come back tender but tough. Watching the transition, though, was awful in the Biblical sense: It inspired awe, dread, wonder, fear and humility in one writhing, gut-wrenching package. I stumbled more than once as I thought of the strength and the control that took, and what else must be hidden ever-more-deeply inside my stoic friend.
We walked through Camp Sin and Karl looked like he did every single day. I expect that I looked like a complete mess. Jim, freshly showered, was waiting for us in the shadowed coolness of Tent Canvas Hell. Karl gave him a shoulder hug and asked about what he was missing since he dropped Wilderness Survival. Jim could sense something was off, seriously off, but chattered away in a voice only slightly dimmed by his own worry. I watched the two interact. It was clear that Jim's voice acted like a tonic. The near-invisible stress in Jim's frame drained slowly until he really was as calm as his mask appeared.
That took us to Dinner. We were halfway through our second week and I guess some sort of Chef Stockholm Syndrome had taken hold. As this far remove, the food was certainly as vile as it had been, but a tiny uptick in quality was all it took for us to actually eat the entrée, something vaguely beef-ish with a hash-brown casserole, while we talked.
We finished a little early and made it to Cabin 4 in time to chat with Orson and Willie for a while before the singing started. Both Leaders were clearly on edge, deeply regretting their brilliant idea for Do-Re-Mi. Too late to change, they took us through the song itself. This actually sucked a little less than Fa... Fa... Fa... all evening long, but sort of in the way that tonight's Beef Whatever sucked less than the Pepper Chihuahua for a few days before.
We made it back to Tent Canvas Hell a little earlier than normal for us, giving us (uh oh), more time to talk. Jim, ever the model of tact and subtlety, asked Karl, "So what did you two do with your free period? Did you get Patrick to kiss you?"
As I tried to sinking through the canvas flor of the tent, I saw Karl nod, look down and start to catch his breath in short gasps, then tumble forward and grab Jim around the waist. Jim's hand went to Karl's upper back and his eyes went to me.
Have you ever gotten A Look that both announced and confirmed that you were the world's most insensitive heel? I actually was relieved when Jim's scowling face mouthed, 'GO AWAY!' I was outside in a flash, blindly walking toward... wherever was not in the direction of Tent Canvas Hell. I could just barely hear Jim's murmuring voice before I finally got completely out of earshot.
I was surprised to find light glowing from the eave-height windows of Dr Eaglas' office. I knocked so softly I wasn't sure I could hear it, much less the doctor, but his soft voice responded, "Come in."
I opened the door and he actually smiled at me. "It's good to see you Patrick. I was hoping you would stop by at some point. I was just finishing up some paperwork. It's beautiful night; why don't we sit outside?"
He grabbed a small, green-leather pouch identical to the one I'd always envisioned being passed as the gates of the ruined Isengard. We sat side by side on the bench. I was surprised when he began to fill, tamp and light a beautiful burled-wood pipe. I watched, mesmerised, as the blue smoke curled in the moonlit air, Dr Eaglas suddenly becoming a young and vibrant Gandalf.
"I'm guessing that the last two days were... a bit full?"
I squirmed, but realised that I really, really needed to talk to someone about, well, everything. And Dr Eaglas was the perfect listener. And the darkness helped a lot.
It took probably forty minutes to get out a stumbling, blushing, mortified and desperate description of the two kisses, Jim on the shelf of rock and Karl on the log. Of the utterly-incompatible responses of each of my friends, of the guilt and fear I felt. Of the confusion and worry that I had done something equally-terrible to each of them. Of the absolutely certainty that I was responsible for Karl's intense pain and that I would, eventually, do the same thing to Jim. I finally ran out of words and was shocked to find that I hadn't been weeping.
The doctor's hand gripped my shoulder and squeezed. He locked my gaze and simple stared at me for the longest time as the heady and wondrous scent of his pipe enveloped me.
"That was a lot, son, a lot to deal with and a lot to say. I'm really proud that you could talk about it, and that you can still be such a great friend to those two men." I looked for signs of sarcasm or derision, but there were none.
As usual, he simply read my mind and his voice, at least, smiled. "Yes, I actually do mean that. I am absolutely confident that you have not hurt Jim in any way, and I'm not entirely sure that you are capable of hurting him on purpose, so put that aside for a minute.
"As strong as Karl is, and he's a damn strong young man, this may come as a shock. I think that you unnerved him."
My jaw dropped and I started to shake my head. The bear of a man's hand still gripped my shoulder.
"No, Patrick, not in a bad way and not in the way you think. Um, has Karl talk about when he was a kid?"
"The way his Dad was killed? Yeah." Now I did start to tear up.
"Patrick, I think you may be the first man to really give Karl, well, love, in a very long time."
I was gobsmacked and mortified. Love? Dr Eaglas just laughed.
"Yes, son, the dreaded 'L-word'. This has nothing to do with sex or even sexuality, Patrick; it has to do with how two humans interact and care for each other. Knowing you and knowing what you just told me, I'm betting that you put everything in that kiss, lowered all your walls and thought of nothing but Karl for those few moments. How wonderful and special he was and how you wanted to show him that? Is that close to being right?"
I looked down and nodded.
"I haven't talked to Karl about what I'm going to say, or even touched on these particular topics; If we had, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation. And what I'm going to say is not about Karl or even Patrick, it's about how human beings work. You with me on this, son?" I just nodded, not looking up.
"Sometimes a man forces himself to be tough and strong for others. He wants to protect everyone from everything, and doesn't much worry about himself in the process. The earlier he starts and the longer it goes, the more walls he builds to keep himself safe just so he can ensure the safety of those he loves.
"When such a man finds another person, man or woman, who suddenly focuses on nothing but him for the first time -- caring and thinking and concentrating on nothing else in the universe for that instant -- it can change his world. That kind of attention and care, well, it makes a guy think about himself. It holds up a mirror to him, in a way, a mirror reflecting who he really is as seen from eyes other than his own. It forces him to realise that someone thinks he is good and special and valuable; forces him to see that same good in himself, something that most men bury and deny.
"Which is the second factor. The more 'good' that the man has buried behind those walls, the harder it is when those walls get breached. Every time that he has been the strong one when he wanted, needed to be the one being protected... every such moment comes crashing back all at once. Because for the first time in a long time, he knows that others are there to do the protecting, the sheltering, the caring.
"So here is the problem, son. All of that is boiling inside the one guy, but what about the man or woman who wanted nothing to but show him how much he was loved?"
"He-- um, or she would feel like upset, cuz instead of feeling good h-- she'd have made the guy feel really bad?"
"Half right, son. That person would feel bad because he or she thought they'd hurt the man, when in fact they'd given him an incredible, rare and wonderful gift."
Eaglas held me as I tried not to cry, and nearly succeeded. He said a lot of stuff to me that night, none of it I recall but all of it made my world a better place. I finally left and he headed to his own cabin. Tent Canvas Hell was quiet and dark when I arrived. I was half-relieved and half-sad, but I found they were both sitting, talking in the gloom. I crawled in and stripped to my undies, as they both had in preparation for bed.
Surprisingly, Karl was the one who spoke. He moved half to me and said, "Thank you, Patrick."
I was floored. Even with all that Dr Eaglas had said, the idea that Karl, that ANYONE, would thank me for making him cry was... astounding.
"Y-Y-You don't h-hate me?"
He smiled, "Maybe a little, but not that way. You're still too tall and too smart."
Jim, having let three whole sentences go by without speaking up (a personal best) finally could take no more. "God! You two are so stupid. I'm going to bed before my head explodes." With that, he dove into the sleep-sack while Karl and I chuckled. I put my hand on Karl's shoulder over Jim's wriggling form. Karl tensed a little then returned the gesture. In the gloom, we could just make out each other's smiles as we said goodnight.
The morning broke windy with scuttling clouds. There seemed little tension, and the brisk day seeming to whisk away the stress. Jim seemed pleased but subdued. Karl seemed... looser, more confident than before; still strong and tough, but less... guarded, perhaps? I still felt a little like I was walking on eggshells, but nothing compared to the previous day.
We were early the Hygiene Hut and early to breakfast as well. The Stockholm Syndrome food thing apparently had its limits as the three of us looked at the runny powdered eggs and the tragically-limp hash browns, then made a mad rush on the cereal and fruit options.
I saw something I hadn't before. Land was loading up his and Sea's coffee with milk and sugar, something I'd never considered. I took my magic milk glass and doctored it like I'd seen. The resulting caramel-coloured sludge was pretty good! Karl tried it and made a face, "It still tastes like crap, just sweet crap. No thanks."
Woodworking saw the final forms begin take shape. You could make out the horse I was carving and Karl's was very obviously a dog of some sort. Jim's was still a mystery; three oblong shapes with ridges even as we finished for the day. When the triangle rang, Karl was off with his compass and accountments, Jim and I to Free Period.
The last few FPs had been the most life-altering things I'd ever endued, and I looked forward with what can only be called eager trepidation. I let Jim pick the destination, and we ended up in Tent Canvas Hell.
"Let's just, um, sit and read? Is that, um, okay, Patrick?"
I doubt my smile could have been larger. I pulled out Jonathan Livingston Seagull again, and saw Jim extract a very different but equally-slim paperback. 'Childhood's End' by Arthur C Clarke. We sat with knees touching, occasionally jostling each other and both smiling with a calm ecstasy, until Karl came back. I tensed, expecting some sort of Look, but Karl was bubbly as usual after his Orientation & Cartography. Today was the first time they'd made their own map and Karl was jazzed.
Jim and I just smiled through lunch as Karl showed us his map of the camp. I had to admit, it was pretty cool how he could get things in the right places with just angles and distances, and was fulsome with my praise. Karl basked, and Jim beamed at me.
Archery went better today. It was the first day with actual more-or-less arrows. They were stubby things, but they flew like actual arrows. Karl's strong grip was matched with Jim's incredible aim and they acquitted themselves well. I... didn't completely suck. That's the best I can say, but my tent-mates' success buoyed me.
We changed for Swimming in Tent Canvas Hell, and I was surprised that Karl was not even slightly shy about being seen naked, and Jim took full advantage. I just... couldn't. I did get a long, salivating look at his amazing and furry ass, but looked away when he started to turn. Why? No idea. Jim was smiling and riding high down to the dock, so I knew he liked what he'd seen; Karl was one big grinning blush, so I was guessing he liked that Jim had liked what he had to show.
Lifeguarding today was nerve-wracking. It was the first time that we would be tasked (alongside the experienced lifeguards) with watching over the swimmers. Sea went through our ranks ruthlessly. Anyone who had the wrong count was yelled at before swimming a lap and going back to work. Worse, the buddy had to swim it too, since each pair was supposed to be communicating as a team. Frankly, we got lucky. I had the right answer once and Karl the other time.
Sea had one surprise up his sleeve. In addition to The Count for everyone, each pair had a quarter of the swimming area in which they were responsible for saving anyone in trouble. Sea had a Leader as a Designated Victim who tried to drown in each quadrant at some point. Karl spotted him like an eagle when the older boy started to fake-struggle and yelled in his deep and penetrating voice, "MAN DOWN!" I nearly crapped my trunks.
By the time that Karl was nearing the Designated Victim, I had a pole with a crook in one hand and a coiled rope in the other. Karl chose to tow the DV to the dock, and I sprinted to the end and had the crook snagged into the float's tether as soon as it was in range. Karl swam well outside the DV's reach, then helped me get the Leader onto the dock, me pulling and Karl pushing. Of the four groups, we were the only ones to get full marks, largely from Karl's quick spot and my decision to have two extraction methods ready.
We didn't get a trophy, but something far more valuable. At the end of the lesson, Sea used us as an example in explaining where others had missed opportunities. We were flying by the time the triangle rang to close the afternoon session.
Showers were not full, but I finally worked up the guts to actually look around me, taking cautious stock of the physiques of my fellow swimmers. As luck would have it, Karl was never turned toward me when I looked, but a couple of the Leaders would fuel jacking session for years to come. One in particular was tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped and beautifully proportioned. His ass had dimples that nearly made me gasp, and his cock and balls were intriguingly dark and mysterious. I can still close my eyes and see a clump of suds rolling slowly down his left ass-cheek and dripping onto the floor of the shower; all these years later, it still makes my dick twitch.
Dinner was bad, but not exceptionally so. Something to do with pork chops, but no one could really see any meat-like particles so we ate the soup. We decided it was better not to ask what was supposed be in the creamy chowder. This was followed with another hour of Fa. Fa. Fa. It was not exactly... relaxing so we were all a bit on edge when we finally got back to Tent Canvas Hell. We stripped down and snuggled into the sleep sacks and... completely failed to sleep.
It had been four days and several life-altering kisses since Jim and I... you know, in the bole of that giant beech tree. I was about to explode. I tried to lay in every position possible, but each one either crushed my rock-hard dick or made it tease unbearably against my underwear or the sleep-sack itself. I was minutes away from trying to sneak out and take care of things when Karl's deep voice broke an hour's tossed-and-turned silence.
"None of us can sleep. We all know why. What do we do about it?"
Jim's voice was strained and high, "I don't know, but I'm dying."
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Karl & Greg: 21 chapters .../incest/karl-and-greg/ Canvas Hell: 19 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 10 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 11 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Off the Magic Carpet: 5 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/ Lake Desolation: 4 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/