The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in any state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
Following, pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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^o^ Concluding remarks ~ reading this story could make you stiff or gooey, so I would suggest not reading it at work... just sayin'! :)
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Giv2GeT 02
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
^o^
Ed suggested the men use their time wisely to prepare. With only three days to set up, so plans would fall into place once the client set foot on the property, was moot in whether a counselor would swim or sunk with their success in rehabilitation.
Entering the cabin he and his client would share', Declan took a swig of beer, noting not much had changed over the seasons, except the gathering of dust. After a successful two years, with commencement and completion of his third, the cabin he used over the past 8 years had been claimed' by him.
A fast eyeing up of the facility, looking up at the chains hanging down from a rafter, he had to make comment, "Uh, oh," seeing a leak in the roof, which had left the chains rusty. It would not throw a downer into his plans, using leather cuffs as an intermediary between metal and flesh, but if the heavens were to burst open... "Then again," he smiles, Declan pictures in his mind the rain, seeping through the roofing, down the chains, it might be just what he needed to revive his `boy'!
He finally agrees, "Nah," and writes it down on his tally sheet, `patch hole in roof.'
As he has done the past year, the year before that and before that, and so on and so forth, Declan kept a tally of what he did to a client and how much endurance a particular client could take and other statistics, which only sometimes proved valuable, because every client was different. Planning from year to year, the statistics didn't match up to every individual.
Dropping his bottle in a refuse container, Declan chills out, falling into the bed he's occupied year after year. "A little squeaky," inconveniences his hearing, which would keep him awake. Thinking on it, it never really bothered him that much, falling asleep to the lullaby of a boy moaning or so damn tired after working ass with his slick 8c.
Such thinking made Declan fall prey to slipping a hand into his pants, right under the thick leather belt and under the elastic of his boxer shorts.
A few hot ones flooded his mind, but none more than the boy last year. Could be expertise, each year seemed to get better. Or, he often rationalized, with experience it was himself who was better at turning a boy around.
Often what happened, which could be with any counselor, a client would `act' like his life was turned around, just to fare well with the counselor.
Declan beat that con, not letting up on a client until the last day under his jurisdiction, which was a period of 3 or 7 weeks, depending on how long the client was paid up for. The 4th or 8th week was used as recovery, though last year, Declan's client was in need of some extra time, time which amounted to 10 days, costing the camp owners overtime, not for Declan, but costs to keep on a doctor, a nurse and a security person.
Ed figured, hitting him with docking pay would be the only place which mattered to Declan, knowing he was a habitual gambler, but never play the casinos.
However, at camp, Declan's only bets were placed on whether he could rehabilitate a client, one which, right now, gazes over to the hanging chains and reliving it both in mind and feeling his cock grow over the sensation of remembering his client hanging there, behind him with a leather strap... well...
Declan only took guys on who were there for 8 weeks, because he said he had to slowly work a guy. His only tools for doing so were in the two big black bags he brought to camp and what he carried in his pants.
Right now, he was thinking about the tool in his pants, having had to open his belt buckle, unzip and finish out what he started, making his cannon grow into a mighty weapon. Thinking about whipping last year's client, he whacked off, trading the leather strap in for his cock, causing pain to satisfy his own pleasure, like right now, biting a lip and groaning out loud as a spike of cream shoots up in the air, then successions of less fortitude, streaming down the sides of his 8-inch stack.
"Oh man," he judges on last years fucks, "this has got to surpass last year's hot shots!"
As with keeping tally of all the ways he liked to turn a client's life around, using a heavy leather strap on the back, chest, stomach, stretching out balls and pounding the sacs with a thin, leather whip, gut punching or having some general fun with a client's balls, he also kept track of how many times he fuckt a guy, made him suck and whether the victim took his cum up the ass or down the throat. Of course, he was more into ass than throat, but there was nothing like forcing his cock in and out of a guy's mouth to prime his pistol!
Only gripe Declan had about getting off now and after the client arrives, he had to clean up the gooey puddle around his cock. And he was stickler for that too, making sure his hairy pubes were sucked clean of the warm creme.
"Declan!" he heard from outside call him.
Knowing the voice, one of his fellow counselors, Declan gets up, calls out, "What do you want, Dwight? You caught me at kind of an inconvenient time?"
"Oh really?" Dwight yells in through the screen door, knowing protocol, taboo to enter another man's cabin unless welcomed.
However, standing, Declan's hand was the proponent for keeping all the liquid stuff from slowly dribbling down his legs. Of this, he gets an idea, "C'mon in Dwight!"
Ed had his own list of counselors at Camp Rufghup, like a pyramid of values, at the top were those who were strongest in ideals and getting the job done.
Even though Declan's client went out through the infirmary, the guy learned a lot about respect, though it seemed. What happened afterwards, the owners of Camp Rufghup had words with Ed, regarding the harsh treatment. Of course, the owners also did not want Declan fired, but `talked to', because the same thing could happen to the owners, which happened to Declan, Declan leaving the camp with unhealthy complaints. Sometimes it did not matter that the clients or counselors had to sign release papers. One thing going for Ed, if a lawsuit was served, it never went the course and so far, since the beginning, the camp has never experienced a legal payout.
Fortunately, Ed stepped in and whatever magic he used, which usually meant lying, he assured parties of concern, it would be taken care of. Well, such was the case with Declan's client, last year, Ed promising Declan wouldn't work another year at Camp Rufghup. However, nothing ever trickled back to Declan.
Eventually, Ed did speak with Declan, giving him a little slap on the wrist, telling him to tone it down, but Declan figured it was clear and free to use the same techniques as last season, changing it up a little, to make the camp director `happy'.
Right now, having invited Dwight in, one of the counselors `low' on Ed's pyramid, he had no problem dictating, "Get on your knees, okay?"
Dwight was a sucker for a cock and just because the cum had oozed around Declan's soft shaft, didn't matter to Dwight, "Yeah, sure," and because it's not the first time he's tasted Declan, "you know how I love your creme!"
By the time he had asked and gotten Dwight on his knees, the creme had flowed down around his balls, making the shaved orbs glisten, "Yeah and get the balls too!"
What could have been a five minute cleanup, turned in several tens of minutes, Dwight going beyond the call of duty, as Declan knew he would. For every year since Declan came on board, his prep time would be filled with Dwight's visits to his cabin, Declan making his own judgement call, as with now, Dwight sucking each of his balls, "And everyone thinks you're a total waste of human energy, Dwight, my boy. If they only knew how good you are on your knees!" he laughs.
Unlike clients placed under his care and decision, Declan treated Dwight with much, much more kindness.
In appreciation for the kindness shed by Declan, Dwight was okay with granting pretty much any wish uttered by Declan, as long as it did not interfere with his office duties. Because if he did manipulate any of the paperwork and Ed found out... it just would not be a pretty scene.
But now, on his knees working Declan's balls, the slick slime scrubbed off each by his tongue, Dwight looks up to Declan, who had taken to holding on to the two dangling chains, "Done!"
"That's what you think, boy," Declan turns around, bends over and splits his ass.
"Mm-m-m," Dwight replies, licking his already creamy lips.
"This might be your only chance to fuck me boy, so get that tongue busy inside me!"
Not the first time he's worked Declan's ass, relieving the hands parting cheeks, licking the fibers of ginger hair, tasting musky, working his tongue deep, until he has to curl it to get the tip in the small puncture.
"Oh damn!" Declan calls out. Never a fail, he reaches back, grabs Dwight's head and pulls him in further.
Unlike Declan's clients, Dwight has the right to back out if he feels faint from lack of breathing air, "Dammit, Declan, you almost smothered me!"
He doesn't know why, but this is the only guy at camp he allowed talking to him in a derogatory tone. The only counselors, Declan would tell off, making what they said into a joke. However, with Dwight, he would rationalize things in a way of, "Sorry bout that? Let me know when you recover."
Almost, like pronto, Dwight says, "All recovered! Where do you want me next?"
Grabbing Dwights nips up in his fingers and thumbs, Declan says, "Got some new toys, if you want to help me break them in?"
The feeling, shooting from Dwight's nips to his crotch, how could he not, "Would be cool?" he like, begged for it.
Sort of a drama was pulled off, Declan having asked in the past, before doing anything he please, walking over to one of his big, black duffles, dumping it out.
Walking over, it was Dwight's assessment, "Wowwie Declan, looks like you've got some cool stuff here!"
Glancing at Dwight, at first he was a bit taken aback by being called by his name, rather than sir', but this here wasn't the real' guy he would eventually wind up with, "Why don't you pick out some toys to try out?"
Every year, for about four years now, since Dwight and Declan made the connection, it's been the same prelude to a drama, Dwight squatting down, grazing over the packages of newly purchased toys, "You got some collection here, Declan?"
Laughing, it was really a hint, Declan saying, "Pick out a toy for every part of your bod!"
"Nice clamps," Dwight says of the neatly packaged nip toys, "holding them in his hand."
"Give them here," Declan says, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Tossing them over, Dwight asks, "Are they light or heavy tension?"
"Depends on the guy," Declan replies. "For yourself, I'd say light tension, then press the limits?"
Then, pushing the packages of other nip toys with his hand, cbt toys, a loose ball stretcher, two or three packages of curled up whips, a few different kinds of floggers... "Sandpaper?" Dwight questions.
"Yeah," Declan says, "thought it would be cool sanding down those erasers, once I got them to stand up nice and perky!"
"You think of everything, don't you, Dec?" Dwight says, tossing him the package of different grades sand paper.
Reaching over, Declan grabs up a package, filling his hand with one of the floggers, "Tried this one out before I bought it. Gives a nice sting without breaking the skin, if handled properly."
Sliding it out of the bag, he gives Dwight some `puppylove' taps of the fronds against his back.
"Feels kind of good," Dwight replies, looking at Declan.
Withdrawing it, standing, Declan says, "I'd sure like to make you feel `good', Dwight!"
There, the drama had played out, Dwight rising up from the squat, his dangling balls drawing up into his package, "How do you want me?"
"You know how much it turns me on when you tell me how you want me to be, Dwight."
Any other guy, they'd take Declan's orders, doing as they were told, most of the time, which at first threw Dwight for a loop, but accepting it, "Want me on my knees, bent over, ass spread?"
"Think again, Dwight!" Declan actually cracked a little smile, knowing it was meant as a joke!
"These!" Dwight bends over and picks up two leather cuffs, kept together by a plastic fastener, because they were sold as a pair.
"I think the ankle cuffs are in the other bag, if you want to dump it out?" and to edge Dwight on, "Sure would be sweet working you eagle-spread!"
On the same plane, Dwight hurried to dump the other duffle out, stopping for the occasional hot toy, XL, XXL and XXXL butt plugs, nasty looking croc clips and, "What are these for?" he holds up two dowel sticks, going for a third.
Looking around, Declan says, "I don't have the set up ready for them. I'll let you know when I do."
"At least don't leave me in suspense and tell me which part of the male anatomy they are used on?"
"Fair enough," Declan thought, always up for the element of surprise, "a dowel stick for each nip and use on the navel."
Fair game, Declan didn't hint on how they were used, again admiring the 3-pack set of buttplugs.
Dwight asks, "How do you know if these are good quality?"
"I don't. Won't know until I've tried them out," Declan says, proud of himself, "but they were on the BOGO sale and I didn't know what to pick out, so chose them. Always good to have an extra set on hand."
"Question though, what's BOGO mean?" Dwight asks.
"Buy One Get One, at some discount. In this case I had my eye on a big, fat buttplug, almost the size of a man's leg and had the choice of a multi-pack of buttplugs, offered at half off."
"Where was this? Online?"
"Yeah," Declan says, "at The TooLBoX'."
"Oh yeah. They have really good quality merchandise," Dwight replies.
"Oh really? And what strikes you, as something you might buy for yourself, Dwight?" It tickled Declan's balls, to know!
"Everything!" Dwight laughs.
So, at first standing, holding his hands together, Declan attached the leather cuffs to each wrist. An option, either the arms could paired up overhead, or the chains could be drawn apart, attached to pulleys, Declan's victim's arms moved upward and out to the sides. Corresponding chains and links, legs could be stretched outwards from cock and balls, leaving them dangling precariously. Even though he had already shot his load, lost some residue over Dwight tonguing his balls clean and tongue-tickling his ass, thinking about the outlay of torture-toys, he had regained momentum.
"Y'know, Dec," Dwight says, after cuffs were affixed to the each wrist, half of Dwight's bod conforming to the shape of an `X', "would be a shame to just break in that new flogger?"
"Would it be now?" Declan replies, putting the finishing touches on Dwight's left ankle, not immune to the cock and two sacs hanging in the breeze.
"You know my weaknesses!" Dwight play up his roleplaying `sir' from the year before, the year before that, and so on and so on.
Then, lifting himself up, from being on one knee, Declan observes Dwight as if a Van Gogh painting, "Mm-uh, don't you look nice and `savory'," thoughts run through the 27-year old master's head, eyes trained on the low hangers.
"Well, what're you waiting for, Dec?!" Dwight defies.
Regardless of each of their desires, Ed has to bust in, whether it was cool or not to do so, "What the fuck is this, Declan?"
"What do you mean, `what the fuck is this?', Ed, when you know Dwight and me play around a little before camp gets in full swing?"
Not immune to Dwight's hot, husky bod hanging there and all the pleasure spots fully exposed, Ed was thinking `what a waste', but says without explanation, "Cut Dwight down and go find someone else to try your new toys out on, Declan. We've got some business to take care of."
"But we `always'..." Declan starts to protest, especially since he has Dwight all decked out in bracelets, roaring and ready to go...
"Are you going up against me, Declan?"
He could almost feel spit on his face, Ed standing in close perimeter, Declan backing down, for now, "Yeah, okay." Even though his cock was all psyched up for another go around, very few things in life would keep him from doing what got him off. There were rumors of Ed getting out of the business after this summer. He figured if he was `nice enough', his name could be up for the position as director for next season.
Ed was the reason he was bending on one knee again, unshackling Dwight's ankles. He had already thought about Dwight being gullible, willing to take abuse and that maybe next year, make Dwight his `kept man', to play with on the side.
"Dwight?"
"Yeah, Ed?"
"Meet me at the barn, when you get the bracelets off?"
While dressing back in pants and camp shirt, Dwight shot his mouth off, "Sure would like to try out that multi-pack sometime, Declan?"
Putting his own pants on, stuffing himself back in, barely, Declan replies, "I'm sure we'll have a chance, Dwight. I'm looking forward to it."
Every since four years ago, each year since, Dwight has sensed Declan maybe `falling for him', even though such a handsome man, muscled, he asked himself why a guy of his hotness would like a cub, "Cool!"
After Dwight leaves, Declan feeds arms into his shirt, buttons them up, whistling. Already he thought he would journey over to the new guy's cabin, Avery Taylor and see how he's doing?!
`The Barn' was one of the recreational spots on the camp grounds.
As required by law, the camp had to employ a counselor, who, once a week held a group therapy session with all clients, without the counselors, only Ed in attendance.
In order for a person to assume a position as counselor, they had to understand just what transpired at Camp Rufghup. Ed personally interviewed would-be staff members and chose Duke Johnson, 32-year old graduate and veteran staff on the faculty of Hickory Falls Community College, has a masters in psychology from Coushatta University, author of the book, `Taking The Bull By The Horns', a how-to book on dealing with gay situations in a straight society, and road trips around the country, the UK and a few European locales.
It was today, Ed was meeting Duke, for the second time, among the haylofts, introducing him to the meeting place and any counselors who happened by.
Reaching the barn door, after having met Duke at his office, Ed opens the massive entrance, sliding it to the side, "I hope you like your accommodations, Duke?"
"Modest, but it's not like I'm used to living in a 7-room house, either," Duke replies, with a slight chuckle of humor.
"I doubt this will rival your meeting places wherever you spoke on your road trip, but it suits our means here," Ed says, leading Duke inside, flicking some switches, which light simple incandescent fixtures, hanging by cords, shells of metal above each to reflect the light downwards.
"I've always loved the smell of fresh hay," Duke replies, stealing a piece of straw from a bale, sucking on it.
"I'd be careful what you put in your mouth. You never know if a cow pissed on it?" Ed laughs his ass off.
Still, it was kind of gross, Duke immediately pulling the straw out, chucking it on the barn floor, "Ewe!"
Right on with the scenario, as he sees it, Ed tells him, "Well, not much other than the itinerary I've handed you in the handbook, Dr. Johnson, other than we don't go for formal furnishings, other than akin to a barn. Bales of hay are seats for prospective members of the group you will be meeting with."
Opening the handbook, which he had rolled up in one hand, Duke opens it to a certain page, "I would like to go over, on page 69, what you mean by `corporal punishment'?"
Turning around, reaching an arm up, placing it against a wooden post, crossing a leg over the other, in a relaxed pose, Ed replies, "You do know it by definition, Dr. Johnson?"
"I am informed of the `correctional process'."
"Which I sense you are for it, or indifferent," Ed poses to him, "or else you would not be here?"
"I am here to analyze the results of your methods, not to criticize how you achieve the desired result, not that I approve or disapprove," Johnson says.
"As long as you look at it from that perspective, things should run along smoothly and to give you a firsthand impression of how things go around here at Camp Rufghup, I am teaming you up with a client by the name of Leon Lloyd Justice. I think he prefers to be called `LL'."
"LL? How unusual," Duke quips.
"Yes. Your trainer will be Thomas Achille, who comes highly recommended, a proficient model in the art of discipline. I am sure you will learn a thing or two from him."
"That is why I'm here," Duke replies, "not only to counsel, but to learn. Possibly what I draw from here I will use in my next book!"
Stepping up to Duke, Ed warns, "I hope you know the rules, regarding being discreet, Dr. Johnson?"
"Oh yes. I mean, I would not name names, only dwell on the ideas involved. If anyone wants to know my sources, I can always call them confidential," Duke says.
"Very well, but also I want to remind you, the man in charge of you and LL', is' the man in charge. What he says, goes, or else you pay the penalty?"
It wasn't exactly what Duke Johnson was hoping for, aside from the experience of working at a correctional facility, such as Camp Rufghup. Though, even though with the wide promotion of his book, it never really sold enough to cover the publishing costs. Debuting, based on his reputation, at #97 on the bestseller's list, it turned right around, jumped off!
Duke had no choice but to take the position, with being dropped by his publisher and having to take a loss on the royalties, unready for a lengthy lawsuit. Of course, he wasn't sharing much of this with his employers, hoping his credibility hadn't been tarnished already, out here in the boondockies.
"When is it again the clients show up?"
"Well, for the rest of the camp, a week, but where you are concerned, Mr. Justice will be showing up this afternoon. I'd suggest getting rested up and settled in, because as soon as Thomas Achille meets up with two," Ed smiles, "the fun starts!"
Ed walking towards the door, Duke tells him, "I can hardly wait."
It's not that Duke was opposed to sharing in the disciplining', rather more or less asked' for it, out of need to redeem himself, perhaps through another publisher, another publication, but was a damn good writer and just because he had one lousy book, he wasn't about to bail out this easy. No, Duke was driven, for at least once in his life, to have the success he deserves!
Walking out of the barn, glancing about the surroundings, rustic setting, old wooded building enclosed by trees...
Spotting a circle, surround by stones, a wooden pole driven into the ground, he immediately thinks it's there to run electrical wires to, but investigation shows there are only two huge, metal rings, attached to each side of the pole.
Imagination running wild, Duke walks over to it, steps over the very short rock wall, into the center, bellies up to the post and reaches above his head. It took stepping on the toes of his feet to reach and in doing so, his shirt tore out of the anchor of his belt, feeling bare flesh against the rough wood. With holding on, his stomach, right above his navel, touching, which his bellyhole had been quite a pleasure spot to him, he held the position, because to disconnect would mean cutting off the sensations he was feeling below the belt!
Unbeknownst to him, looking over a sprig of pine, Declan, in his search for a playmate, had one hand holding the bushy branch down, the other hand down his pants, holding the timber springing up from his pubic bush and stroked to the tune of Duke, stripped, tied and ready for the lash, which provoked Declan to comment to himself, "Now, wouldn't that be sweet!" He didn't say it, but thunk it, after the sweet whipping, further warming up that ass!
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Probably one of the most rationale, down to earth counselors, Joseph Walsh, started out his working life as a student teacher for social studies. An inner city school, very early on, he put his teenaged kickboxing skills to work, when `almost' mugged, walking back to his apartment.
Unintentional witnesses, after some of the students from his class were bystanders, word soon spread, `don't mess with Mr. Walsh!'
It's how `Mr. Walsh' has played it up all his life. When times dictated dictatorship, it is the personality Joseph assumed. With sex, it could go in many directions, depending on how he read a man, or intentions set forth once the foreplay got in gear.
When he walked through the door of his cabin yesterday, first thing Joseph attended to was dropping 4 bags of clothing and other accessories near the area which resembled sleeping quarters. Walking over to the side of the nearest bed, narrow twin sized, he bent over, reached his arms fully out to the head and foot of the cot, picked it up and using the fulcrum of his knees, raised it slightly, but pushed it over next to the other one. Reaching into one of his bags, Joseph retrieved two lengths of ropes. Lying fully on both, he reached down between the wall and head of the bed and with one length of rope, ties the feet of the separate beds together. Doing a pushup, Joseph pushes himself off the side of the bed.
In doing so, he laughs at what has occurred, laughing, "Never fails!"
Whether some other guy, or himself, as what has happened, he doesn't allow his shirt to fall down just yet, holding it up, admiring his worked abs, a hand planing over his stomach in a circular motion, feeling up the ripples, joking to himself, "I sure hope Eddie likes the taste of manfur!"
Sometimes Joseph psyched himself out, thinking how hot it would be to have a tongue recognize each indentation of his sixpack, but more important was a guy's inner-mind GPS, finding his way `south'!
Thinking too hard on it, when he bent down at the foot of the bed to tie the other rope, uniting the two cots as one, his pants really stretched!
Standing, he rubbed himself, but Joseph was far too horny for the guy in the portfolio handed him. The gym picture of Eddie had really done it for him. In the past 4 seasons at Camp Rufghup, every portfolio picture had been a headshot. Lucking out this year, full bod shot, shirtless, it was a sight to behold and Joseph was making the most of his anticipation.
It had been a long journey, from the school he held the position of crisis counselor. Instead of jetting into the local strip, Joseph decided on a road trip. As a result of driving 3 1/2 hours, he was a little beat, but mostly because the air conditioning in his truck quit the last leg of the trip.
Without even unbuttoning his khaki shirt, Joseph took it off, overhead. As he had felt a few minutes ago, the hairy abs, they were a bit more ripe and sweaty, matching his head of hair and every place else on his bod. It didn't take much for him to head towards the shower. Dropping his pants, he scooped them up with a kick, folding them nicely and placing in a cubby. There were no dressers, nor armoires, but square cutouts to place clothing, or a tall opening with a bar across for hanging up stuff.
From there, in the raw, it didn't take much to coax Joseph towards the shower.
Today was almost a carbon copy of yesterday, except joining the beds together. However, reporting back to his cabin, coupled with the heat of approaching noon, he went right at stripping down and with a towel over his shoulder, headed right into the shower area. As the heated water streamed down, Joseph snapped his fingers, having forgotten to take a bar of soap. He didn't care. First hot, he cooled down after rubbing his hands all over himself, making sure his cramped up crotch was squeaky clean. Of course, as his mind lost control, he slowly made himself very hard.
"Having fun?"
Turning around, Joseph was caught. However, it being a familiar face, he left his hand in place, replying, "Didn't your elders ever teach you to knock?"
Ed Farley, standing there, a shoulder to the side of the doorless entryway, says, "If I stood there long enough, I'd probably get hard myself and then... who could predict what would happen, Joseph?" Ed glances down at the hand wrapped around the sopping wet cock.
"Drop your pants, Ed, and I'll show you how things could end up?"
"Sorry, but you know the rules, `no fraternizing with other personnel'?"
"Is that your rule or directly from the manual, Ed?"
All around there were all kinds of enticement, and all around there was plenty of it, to remain in the position he was in, Ed Farley had to overlook comments such as this, producing a sheet of paper, "I have some additional comments, an addendum to your file on Eddie Raleigh."
Slowly starting to build up the momentum, Joseph requests, "My hands are wet. Why don't you read it to me?"
Setting his own rules, about participation, or not, it didn't hurt Ed's pride to stand there and what better way than what Joseph proposes, "Very well. It says here, according to Eddie's psychologist, he was sexually abused as a child by an uncle," eyes up Joseph almost fully erect, cock parallel to the floor, "bullied from junior high school, into high school," bites his lip for a second Ed continues, "physically bullied by a senior, then when the student graduated, the abuse' was passed down' to succeeding tormentors. Deceived into going on a senior trip, Eddie was used not only by schoolmates, but also hired out to motel employees and guests. Sad, huh?" Ed presented, but not sad he stood there watching Joseph buck his hips!
"Just... a minute, Ed!"
Good thing Joseph called time out, Ed not wanting to go back on his principles, but feeling the need to work his hard shaft, even though he kept it under wraps.
"Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" Joseph squinted his eyes, still stroking as white goo shot out, trickling down into the drain.
All Ed could think to himself is, `What a waste of energy!' he smiles. With things winding down, Ed asks, "Are you quite finished, Joseph?"
"Give me a second to collect myself," which had two-fold meanings, catching his breath and making sure his pubes still weren't all gooey!
"I'll wait," Ed replies, though when he got back to his own cabin, he knew he would have to clean his own pubes and wash out his soiled briefs!
Shutting the water off, jets running dry, Joseph announces, "I'm done!"
"You're such a tease!" Ed says, watching Joseph pull a towel from the rack, but place it around his neck and not around his hips!
"Just in case you change your mind, Ed... I mean I'm up for another volley!"
"No thanks."
At which point, Joseph uses the towel to dry off, placing a foot on the top railing of the bottom of the bed, to make sure everything in the fold of his legs is quite parched.
To this, Ed says, "Interested in hearing the rest of Eddie's transcript?"
"Sure," Joseph places his elevated foot on the floor.
It's not that Joseph was uncaring about Ed telling him about Eddie, due to his failure to carry on a happy social life, as college followed, the personality conflicts, discovery of sado-maso tendencies and eventual assault on a student, mistook for standing up for himself, which by matter of circumstances, Eddie was spotted throwing a retaliatory punch, "I've seen it over and over again Ed."
"Good," Ed replies, "then I know I have the right person matched up with Eddie!"
"I'm used to working with high school students, Ed, not a 25-year old?" Joseph rants.
Handing Joseph the paper, Ed gleefully says, "I'm glad we're on the same page, Joseph. I'm sure you'll figure something out," and he was gone.
It wasn't the first time Joseph had read a student profile which included, he reads it out loud, "Sado-maso tendencies."
He wasn't a psychologist, though had college courses to back up his position of counselor at a high school. Quite a few times a session might include the exact terminology, or something resembling the need to give or get pain.
The one thing which did not fit into all this, was Eddie's physical state. Placing the page into the folder given him at the meeting, Joseph shuffles through the batch, unearthing the picture he first lay eyes on, "Hm-m-m," he rubs his scruffy chin, holding it up, leaving the folder positioned on a table.
Joseph knew what it took, first hand experience, to mold a bod into a vision of perfection. When it came breaking down muscle and rebuilding it, discipline in keeping up with it was moot. Glistening in the rectangular picture, longer from top to Eddie's feet, Joseph knew what it took to work up a sweat like Eddie wore. He comments to himself, "He's no slacker, that's for sure!"
One thing which mattered in all of this `camp thing' to Joseph, was initial attitude. It could tell a lot about how things were going to lean, either compatibility or friction in their camp relationship. Right now, he was thinking on how cool it would be to have, rather than grueling discipline sessions regarding an unruly camper, more compatible, in many ways.
Then the horrors set in, "What if..." he was about to end this sweet dream, "Dammit, I sure hope he isn't..."
Left unsaid, Joseph pondered, staring into the eyes of the dude in the photograph, cruising down his bod again. This time, fingers ran down the middle of Eddie's chest, as if he were standing there in person, over the abs and as if Joseph were targeting the area, drew a circle around an area of Eddie's gym shorts, zeroing on objects of Eddie's anatomy. Finally, Joseph, inadvertently allowing his own `objects' overrule his mind, lays down on one of the conjoined bunks, and already half there, raises his shaft to full staff with his free hand.
By the time Joseph had freed up his pent up emotions, Eddie's beautiful photograph was a little crumbled, reason being, in the throes of coming, Joseph had taken it, fallen into a stupor over the beauty of Eddie's muscled bod and with the foto faced down, pictured in his mind Eddie lying on top of him, their bods mashed together.
Then came a knock at his door, prompting to Joseph to opinion, "Looks like some people have manners," immediately followed by, "Oh shit!" he jumps out of bed and with haste, looks around the room for something to `wipe' himself on.
With no need for the foto, he does what he used to as a teenager, hearing someone coming up to his room, stashes `Eddie' under his pillow.
When he got to the screen door, even though Camp Rufghup was an all-male facility, Joseph held his old, musty pair of briefs over what he could.
It was an old screen on the door, showing signs of weathering, dirt and grime collecting on every little square of screen fabric, impairing vision from both sides, Joseph not saying anything, just looking for signs of visitors.
Suddenly, he hears, "Hi, Joseph, Ed asked me to bring Leon Lloyd around and introduce to everyone. Are you decent?"
Decent?' Hardly, but why would it ever stop Joseph, in the right environment'?
Opening the door, he already knew the face of Thomas Achille, the other, he assumed was the camper Ed was talking up, coming in this afternoon. But it wasn't even past noon time, greeting, "Tommy, what's up?"
Thomas hadn't been called `Tommy' since college days. Not even as a kid was he called by that name, "Um, this is Leon Lloyd Justice."
Regardless of being a camper or not, suddenly so smitten by Leon Lloyd's incredibly handsome looks, he extends a hand, leading up the three wooden steps, pulling the camper up them, "Nice meet you, your honor!"
Even though Leon Lloyd had his share of jokes, about his surname, a lifetime full of callings, including `Justice of the peace', he accepts it admirably, laughing, he had his own set of responses, his favorite, "Why thank you, pedestrian!"
Yanking the camper's hand, pulling Leon Lloyd inside, Joseph thought deeply on what was said. He knew what a pedestrian was, but how it was used... `Look it up later!'
Door slamming shut, Thomas yells down, from the bottom of the 3 tiers of steps and the mucky screen door, "Can I come in too?"
All ready to say okay, Leon Lloyd cuts Joseph off, "Sure you can," pulling on the screen door, holding it for Thomas.
Walking in, the first thing to strike Thomas in the face, was Joseph standing there, briefs over his pubes, cemented in place by a hand, but with failure, ballsacs handing down, "Um, nice briefs, Joseph," he sends a message, "uh, like you're losing something, there?"
It made him look! Too late he realizes it, exactly as Tommy had described, his low-hangers, hanging low, "Yeah, excuse me. I just got out of the shower. Give me a minute."
They were all men, but Joseph felt it necessary to turn his back on them, bend his hairy ass over, step into his used briefs and bring them up to his thighs.
Leon Lloyd just stood there, enjoying the performance.
On Thomas' mind, because he had been there, done that, hundreds of times either having a guy come on his chest, stomach, pubes or stood behind and jerked a guy off, knew how wet' pubes looked. Yeah, he knew, right before he stepped into Joseph's lodgings, he had been very busy!'
Turning back around, everything really packed into his briefs, Joseph says, "Give me a minute while I throw on something?"
With a smirk on his face, and because he was the mentor for a large core of employees, Leon Lloyd strategizes, "How about we just even up the score?"
From Thomas or Joseph's perspective, this could have been constituted as the beginnings of a threeway interface between the three.
However, it was not Leon Lloyd's intentions, to show off how big his cock and balls were, or his ability to put them to use, but to mock Joseph's build with his own sixpack abs and lean, contoured shape of his bod, stripping off his golf shirt, "I guess you spend about as much time in the gym as I do, huh?"
`Dammit!' Thomas' balls were already churning!
With the ability to handle things as they come, Joseph says, "Maybe even more!" he laughs, following through on feeding his legs into his pants.
Seeing maybe he touched a wrong nerve, Leon Lloyd backs down a little, "By the looks of those big guns, I would say so!"
Hmm, reverse psychology,' Joseph thought, but sensed something more, walking over to the invited guest', placing the back of his hand against the southern portion of hairy abs, "Not too bad yourself!"
Not so hasty in wanting to get with the sex, even though he knew it would pan out to be a hot encounter, as Leon Lloyd set out for himself before he reached Camp Rufghup, that he would most likely be surrounded by hot guys, some of them being gay, already had it in his mind to override his thoughts and those of others, with the reasons for being there, hooks his index finger and like lifting something diseased off of himself, winds it around Joseph's index finger, craning it off his stomach, "Perhaps a man of your physical structure," still engaging fingers, "wouldn't mind taking on some warrior events this afternoon, with my trainer and I?" Turning to Thomas, Leon Lloyd asks, "If it's all right with you, Tom?"
Tom', Tommy', it all was good. Thomas knew about this stuff, having been cast as a supporting character in several porn films, whereas he hung around' on an x' frame, dangling as a prop for some other poor guy, getting his nuts knocked around or ass paved red.
However, he was supposed to be a trainer for a Warrior event, conjuring up all his acting experience, walking over to Joseph, giving him a fake, macho tap of a fake fist against his stomach, "If he can take it!" Though it made Thomas think twice, after the faux gut-punch, feeling up, not tender, flabby fat, but taut muscle!
"Why not? What else am I going to do with all this free time on my hands?" Joseph cheerfully replies.
Proud of himself, Thomas felt like he passed first base in his attempts to impersonate a camp physical ed trainer, who could act tough, dictate orders and command responses from others, reflecting his high and almighty authority, "Great. Ready?"
"Now?" Joseph says.
Being cute, but also with intentions of pulling Joseph's ripcord, Leon Lloyd says, "Unless Joseph needs some more of his beauty-sleep!"
In his job, as CEO of a company, Leon Lloyd had to be on his toes. Observant as Thomas could be, yeah, they both noticed the wet pubes, but for Leon Lloyd `s recollection, also the wrinkled spread on the bed, plus some object sticking out from under the corner of the pillow. With detective-like skills, Leon Lloyd knew he and Thomas had happened on more than Joseph coming out of the shower. If he had, his whole bod would be moist and not just trimmed pubes!
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Copyright 2013 T. Chase McPhee
`Giv2GeT', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.