[chgf] [2001-12-25] Change of Focus [mc]
Change of Focus, by Rajah Dodger <rdodger@hotmail.com>,
Copyright (c) 2001. All rights reserved, except that electronic
not-for-profit reproduction rights only are explicitly granted
with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note
must remain attached.
Word Count: 8353
"There once was a girl from Nantucket / whose clit was so
big she could..."
"Nawww..." Jack said, and viciously crumpled the piece of
notepaper before flinging it across his dorm room. "I'm never
going to pass this flippin' writing course!"
His roommate, a one-time scholarship student now in his
sixth year and third major, intercepted the paper missile and
unfolded it. He shook his head sadly. "That's pretty weak, even
for you."
"Tell me something I don't know, Einstein. How did you
manage to get through this course anyway, Ken? I thought you
hated writing."
"I do, man. Can't stand it." A light gleamed hidden in the
other man's eye. "Maybe that's your problem -- you're too
focused on the task and the mechanics. You know the story of the
Foo bird?"
Jack winced and rolled his eyes. "I don't want to hear
this..." he warned, but to no avail as his roommate began. "The
Foo bird lives in the far reaches of the island of Madagascar,
and is the only known example of a species intent on its own
extinction. This happens because the Foo bird believes that
something is trying to climb into its bottom, and in a single-
minded attempt to find the intruder the Foo bird flies faster and
faster in ever-diminishing concentric circles until it vanishes
into its own anus."
At this point Jack attempted to smother his roommate with a
pillow.
Some minutes later, when tempers had cooled, Ken picked up
the conversation as if nothing untoward had happened. "Your main
problem is that you're too focused. When you're looking at the
crankshaft, you can't get the feel of driving the car. You need
to relax your brain and come around the back side of the idea in
creative writing. Think like an artist, not like the next
partner at Dewey, Cheatem and Howe."
Jack shook his head and flopped back onto his bunk. "You're
going from making no sense to nonsense. What do you mean, come
around the back side of the idea? And anyway, I'm nothing if not
relaxed after spending the weekend with Sherry -- I don't think I
have a stiff bone in my entire body." Sherry was Jack's
girlfriend, a fox from one of the better sororities who had taken
a liking to Jack and seemed intent on working her way through the
entire Kama Sutra with him.
Ken nodded sagely. "Exactly my point. You're using up all
your 'chi' on that girl." He leered, "Not that I'd turn her down
for a minute, my friend. You've got good taste there. But you
need creative energy for creative writing, and she's leaving you
drained not only physically but psychically. It's no wonder you
can't get anything down on paper." He belched, which undercut
his effort to sound professorial.
Jack shook his head in bewildered disagreement. "You're
saying I have to give up my sex life just to pass a stupid class?
Man, with advice like that it's no wonder I'm your eighth
roommate in less than six years."
Ken sighed, "Oh, you youngsters... I never said you had to
give up Sherry. You just have to find a way to recharge your
batteries, and keep your brain from focusing so much on the ugly
mechanics of writing. Now I happen to know of an approach that
might work, if you're really interested. But it would require
you giving up one of your precious weekends with that lithe sex
goddess."
"Hell," Jack responded, "if you can guarantee me getting
through this class I'd even set you up with Sherry for the
weekend."
Ken chuckled. "Don't go writing any checks you don't want
to cash..."
*****
A couple of days later, Jack was kicking back in the student
commons, sipping at his beer and watching the Cubs, when a woman
came up to him. "Hi," she said breathlessly, "You're Jack
Falken, aren't you? I'm your new tutor, Christine, Christine
Keeler, but everyone just calls me Chris."
Jack looked up without anything clicking other than his
hormones. She was tall, brunette, with a nicely-filled midriff-
baring blouse over low-slung denim jeans. Intelligent, too, as
she apparently recognized the blank look in his eyes and
continued without waiting for him to respond. "Your application
to the creative energy weekend seminar was conditionally
accepted, and I'm to be your initial tutor, at least until you've
gotten through the orientation and have your feet firmly on the
ground."
"Conditional?" Jack didn't remember anything about a
seminar, unless this was the thing Ken had been talking about.
And he wasn't sure about that word "conditional". Meanwhile,
Chris was bubbling along at full speed. "Anyway, I need to do an
in-person assessment of your suitability to our program and your
willingness to work. Can you arrange to meet me for dinner
tonight or tomorrow night?"
She paused, which gave Jack a chance to try and catch his
breath. All this was going too fast, but after all, he did have
to pass that class, and for a tutor she was certainly easy on the
eyes. He was supposed to go out to the movies with Sherry this
coming weekend, but she probably wouldn't be upset over one
cancellation.
*****
They met the next evening at a dark little Italian
restaurant not far from the campus. Jack put more effort than
usual into his appearance, which made him slightly late getting
to dinner. Chris was already seated, and he hid his
disappointment at finding her in a simple and demure blue dress.
Their dinner conversation touched on his career goals, classes,
extracurricular interests, and why he thought he had difficulty
writing. Several times during dinner Jack tried to find out more
about Chris, but each time she deftly turned the inquiry back to
him. As Jack was finishing the last of his veal, he commented
that he didn't seem to have problems in his other classes,
subjects like accounting, history and pre-law. It was only in
the "creative" writing tasks that he ran into a blank wall. That
brought a smile to Chris's face. "That's quite good," she said
encouragingly, "when you recognize that yourself it usually means
we can unlock your creative juices -- with some hard work and a
bit of a mental realignment."
Chris put her napkin down and rose gracefully from her
chair. "Let's skip dessert, shall we? I think you're going to
be a good candidate for the seminar, and I've got all the
paperwork back at my place. I've got to run to the little girl's
room -- when I get back, why don't you just follow me and we'll
get you all set for the weekend." She brushed his arm as she
rose; her fingers felt cool against his wrist, and he felt an odd
thrill run up his arm. Jack flagged the waiter for the check,
and by the time Chris came back to the table he was ready to
leave.
Outside in the parking lot, Jack discovered that her dress
was by no means as demure as it had appeared with her seated.
The skirt hung teasingly well above the knee, and he almost
tripped over the curb for not watching his own step. She drove a
sleek-looking Lexus, and he followed her into an unfamiliar and
disreputable part of town. The neighborhood gave Jack had some
concerns about safety, as well as being able to find his way
back. But when he locked his car and followed her into her
apartment his concerns vanished. The apartment was upscale and
classy, and Chris pointed him to the couch and coffee table while
she went to get something for them to drink.
Jack sat down and started to look at the densely filled
papers, distracted momentarily by the sight of Chris's long legs
as she headed for the kitchen. She returned with two glasses,
and they toasted to education, then to writing, then to creative
energy. Chris sat next to him on the couch, her leg pressed
against his, and helped him wade through the legalese in the
first stack of papers. Another round of drinks, and this time
when she sat down her skirt rode up to show a tantalizing glimpse
of thighs and shadows. Another round of papers, an another round
of drinks later, Jack was congratulating himself on determining
that his tutor wasn't wearing a bra, and he was more focused on
trying to figure out whether she was wearing panties than on
reading the papers she handed him.
Finally the last of the papers was signed and countersigned.
"Good boy!" she purred, and hugged Jack tightly. A flush of
warmth suffused his body, and he missed what she said as she
stood up. Her finger caught him under the chin. "Woolgathering,
were we? I thought we might celebrate our new relationship
properly!" Jack wobbled to his feet, suppressing a yawn, and
followed her toward the back reaches of the apartment.
*****
"Well, well, well... the sleeper awakes!" That was Ken's
voice. Why was he hearing Ken's voice?
Jack opened his eyes. He was in his own bed. He shook his
head experimentally; nothing fell out and he didn't have a
headache. Last night's events were just too fuzzy to recall in
any detail. "What time did I get in, anyway," he asked his
roommate.
Ken laughed. "Four in the morning, my friend, and I had to
threaten you with violence to keep you from singing Barry Manilow
songs for more than thirty seconds."
Ken directed Jack's attention to a large manila envelope on
the breakfast table, which turned out to hold Jack's instructions
for the weekend. The list was short: meet the group Friday at
4pm by the campus store, bring toiletries, necessary medications,
comfortable footwear, loose fitting sweatpants, necessary
underwear and three shirts. He looked a second time, then
checked in the envelope as a thought occurred to him. No, there
wasn't anything mentioned about money. Come to think of it, from
what little Jack could recall of the previous evening the topic
of payment had never come up. He asked Ken, who mumbled
something about arts groups and literacy grants.
There was one strange item in the instructions.
Participants were directed to wear clothing designed for comfort,
and they specifically barred briefs for men and athletic bras or
pantyhose for women. Jack bristled at the restriction; he liked
the way briefs showed off his assets. Oh well, a little shopping
trip wouldn't hurt him.
Thinking about briefs brought the previous night back to
Jack's mind. His tutor had not, as it turned out, been wearing
panties. A sudden rush of blood into his groin reminded him he
needed to call Sherry. He rearranged his shorts and reached for
the phone. She wasn't terribly put out about his canceling their
weekend movie, although she expressed some surprise at his
reason. "A writing seminar? Jack, it's unlike you to be so...
studious." She emphasized the "oo" sound in "studious", holding
it long enough for Jack to picture the way her lips were pursed
as she giggled and hung up.
Was Ken staring at him? He turned around suspiciously, but
his roommate was merely sitting in his chair, smiling faintly,
headphones over his ears and a thick book opened in his lap. The
lack of sleep, Jack thought, must be playing tricks on him.
Anyway, between the confused images of last night and his
conversation with Sherry, he needed a cold shower.
*****
Friday afternoon found Jack standing nervously by the
bookstore, his gear in a backpack (including the newly purchased
boxer shorts). By the time 4pm rolled around, there were a half
dozen students gathered, two other men and three women, none of
them anxious to break the common silence. At the stroke of four
an SUV arrived with Chris driving and an athletic-looking man in
the front passenger seat. She introduced him as Greg, another
tutor, and they quickly got everyone into the vehicle with the
guys in the back seat and the girls in the middle. They started
off, the radio playing some foreign sounding music mixed with
white noise and fading oddly in and out.
Jack dozed for a good deal of the drive, as did his fellow
passengers. They left the city behind and entered an area with
tall trees as the afternoon gave way to dusk. When the van
finally came to a halt, everyone piled out to stretch their legs,
and Jack realized he had no idea where they were. Trees, bushes,
an open area with a large grill and several long tables were
visible nearby. At one side was a wooden cabin of recent
construction, and the sound of a river echoed in the air.
"Pretty," said one of the girls. "Pretty bleak" grumbled one of
the guys. Chris and Greg wasted no time in chivvying them into a
line outside the wooden cabin for "check-in and team assignment".
There were already a number of people in the line, evidently from
the three other vans parked nearby.
Inside the cabin, when it was Jack's turn, he was greeted by
an older couple who introduced themselves as Carl and Maria
Weber, "sort of den parents at Camp Get-in-Touch". They went
through his bag, checked his newly-bought boxer shorts, and
confiscated his CD player and dress belt, telling him he would
get those back at the end of the session. They also asked him a
few questions to corroborate a medical form that he didn't
remember filling out. Finally, both welcomed Jack to the seminar
and expressed their hope that he would find the experience
insightful and mind-opening. Carl shook his hand, and Maria gave
him a very thorough welcoming hug before they sent him out of the
cabin.
Conversation was scant among the group as they waited for
everyone to get through check-in. What little talk there was
revealed that they spanned the range from freshman to senior, and
all had coursework problems of one sort or another. Eventually
the last of their group came through the cabin, and Chris and
Greg joined them holding clipboards. Chris spoke up, "Okay gang,
I've got Jack, Martha and Tom, and Greg will have Sally, Nate and
Shavonne. My group follow me and we'll get you set up in our
cabin."
The brunette set out into the woods, and Jack and his new
cabinmates followed uncertainly while eying each other
speculatively. Martha was a statuesque redhead who radiated
confidence and took the walk with long hip-rolling strides. Jack
found himself wondering what she could possibly need from the
seminar. Tom, on the other hand, was a thin bookish type with
glasses and looked the type to need help at most everything.
Their cabin, when they arrived, was a low-slung affair with an
undecorated wood floor and spare furniture, the only note of
comfort being the four large beds, two against opposite walls.
"Where's the bathroom," whined Tom. Chris waved a hand toward
the cabin door. "Those are outside; you'll get that in the main
camp tour and orientation. We'll go there in a few minutes, but
right now just grab a bed and put your things on it." Tom slunk
across to the farthest bed on the right, muttering under his
breath about privacy. Jack took a bed on the left wall to avoid
Tom, and Martha took the bed nearest the door, sitting down and
bouncing experimentally. "Nice mattress," was her only comment.
Chris seemed to find the appraisal humorous. "By the time you
get to bed, you'll appreciate it. Okay, folks, it's a short
weekend and you've all got a lot to do. Let's go!"
The camp extended much farther than the greeting area
promised. The grounds included a swimming pool, frontage on the
river, a well-groomed soccer field, several camp-simple restrooms
(which Tom gratefully availed himself of), and a roomy
combination meeting hall and covered dining area. There they
found some thirty other students gathered, and everyone found
seats while the Webers and the counselors took the front table.
Carl Weber came to the podium. "Welcome, folks. We're glad
you could join us for this weekend retreat. All of you are
having problems in focus, one way or another, and we're going to
give you some tools to help you accomplish what you want in life.
Or at least in school." He chuckled at that, and his audience
did likewise.
"You've all had the camp tour and gotten your cabin
assignments, so we'll have a hike and some warm-up exercises
before dinner. The Romans had a saying, "mens sana in corpore
sano", a sound mind in a sound body, and we adhere to that
philosophy here. During the weekend you'll probably experience a
number of activities that are new to you, from breathing
exercises to different ways to experience your surroundings. Pay
attention to your counselors, and feel free to ask questions, but
remember that this can only work for you if you're prepared to
have an open mind and work hard. Remember, we're all here for
the same thing -- to help you be all you can!"
And with that the meeting was dismissed. The groups
separated in various directions through the woods to the various
clearings scattered around the grounds. Chris quickly rounded up
her group, and Greg's group joined them for what turned into a
strenuous five-mile hike through the woods. Even Martha looked
winded by the time they returned to the camp. They followed
their leaders to the meeting hall, where dinner was already
waiting. The food was spare but tasty, heavy on the vegetables
and fiber, surprisingly filling, and apparently the seminar was
to be meat-free.
After dinner the groups retired to their various cabins.
Chris gave them all ten minutes to bask in the after-effects of
their meal, and then had the three cabinmates sit on the floor in
the middle of the cabin. "This is an introduction to
meditation," she told them as she slid a CD into a small stereo.
Muted sounds of sitar and tabla echoed in the room. Chris
circled around and between them, slipping a soft blindfold around
each student's head. Jack smiled as she put his on; he could
tell she was wearing that same perfume from when he had met her
over dinner. The next half hour was a somewhat fuzzy lesson in
floating, focusing, hearing the music and not hearing the music.
"Meditation," Chris said at one point, "is about focusing and
losing focus simultaneously. It's like the old joke about being
told not to think about an elephant. The only way to succeed is
to allow the elephant into you so that you can get past it." At
least half of this was gobbledygook to Jack, but he was trying to
keep an open mind.
"I'm going to give each of you a focus phrase now. The next
time you do meditation practice, I want you to repeat your phrase
until the words lose their meaning and just surround you with
sound. Tom, you're 'Scent of Green Papaya'. Martha, you're
'Sliding on Silk'. Jack, you're 'Hot Apple Pie'. Now I want
each of you to repeat your phrase, and keep on until you forget
I'm here."
This, thought Jack, is just plain silly. Still and all, he
went along with the gag, and a strange thing happened. First, he
did forget about Chris and the other students; it began to seem
as if he were alone, floating in the universe, a babble of
meaningless syllables echoing in his head. Then, as sudden and
sharp as a flashbulb, he saw meaning everywhere. He could
picture the Earth and planets orbiting the Sun. He saw the
beauty in the whorls of his fingerprints. He understood women.
The tax code made sense... well, almost. He felt a touch on the
back of his neck, and sensed a familiar perfume. Somehow, he
realized, Chris knew that he'd gotten it. He felt oddly proud at
the accomplishment, as a student praised by his teacher.
After a time, Chris went around the room removing the
blindfolds. Jack and the other two each stood up and shook their
heads to regain their bearings. A low gong sounded in the camp,
and Chris nodded her head. "Time to get ready for bed; we've got
lights-out and one last exercise, then you'll be up early in the
morning!" Somewhat subdued by their own individual experiences,
the three roommates quietly went through their things, hiked to
the restroom facility for tooth brushing and other needs, and
returned to the cabin. Tom had taken his pajamas and changed in
the restroom since there wasn't any private area in the cabin.
Jack, on the other hand, planned to sleep in his sweatpants and
shower in the morning.
And then there was Martha. She stood up by her bed and
turned her back to the others, then smoothly pulled off her t-
shirt showing a broad expanse of evenly tanned bra-less backside.
Bending over the bed, she slid her panties down her long legs and
waited just long enough to make it obvious that she knew everyone
was looking at her before pulling a thin nightgown over her head.
Jack clucked his tongue admiringly then rolled over and was
asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, or at least so it
seemed, something cold and wet woke Jack by running along his
spine. "Ice cube?" he grumbled in the dark. "Good boy," came
the melodic sound of Chris's voice, "let's see how we're all
doing!" A moment later, Jack heard Tom whine "Ow... emery board?
And why on my ear?" There was silence for a long while.
Suddenly a piercing shriek tore through the cabin from the
direction of Martha's bed. Chris could be heard in the echoes,
quietly commenting "Yes, but what did it *feel* like?" Martha's
response was low, intense, and unintelligible to the two men.
Chris continued to make the rounds of the room with odd
items pressed to unexpected places, occasioning puzzlement from
Jack and at least one embarrassed squeal from Tom. Finally, she
pronounced herself satisfied with the results and told them to go
back to sleep.
Jack slept, but not well. His dreams were mostly unformed
and unsettling. The cabin seemed too warm, even after he finally
gave in to necessity and stripped down to bare skin on the
sheets. Images of apple pies floated in his head, and the
sensation of riding a horse. Toward morning, though, things took
a turn for the better. He found himself in a glade near the
camp, and Chris was sitting next to him. She moved into his
arms, his head spinning with her perfume. Holding his head with
both hands, she kissed him deeply; her tongue seemed impossibly
long, teasing along the roof of his mouth and pressing against
the back of his throat. Meanwhile her fingers were dancing along
the back of his neck, little pleasurable jolts of electricity
hopping down his spine and centering in his groin. Then suddenly
she was no longer in his lap, but sitting behind him with her
legs wrapped around his and her nipples hard little points in his
back. Her fingernails were teasing his own rudimentary nipples;
he wanted to move but her legs held his down. Someone gave him a
glass of milk, and he drank as fast as he could but it still
spilled, running down his chest...
*****
Morning came far too soon. Jack's nose was stuffy, and he
had a horrid case of morning mouth, complete with thick tongue.
The outdoor air didn't seem to be agreeing with him. Worse, when
he got out of bed his gut gave one premonitory twinge and he
realized he desperately needed to get to the bathroom. He
streaked for the cabin door, forgetting his lack of clothes, and
made barefoot tracks through the dew-covered grass until he got
to the facility. He said a silent prayer of thanks at finding it
vacant, and took only enough time to lock the door behind him
before leaping the last few feet to the toilet.
About ten minutes later, he pressed the flush lever one last
time and staggered to the sink to wash his haggard face.
Something at dinner must have violently disagreed with him.
Worse, his bottom was throbbing; the attack must have triggered a
case of hemorrhoids. Just what he needed to start the day.
After he cleaned up the bathroom, he walked, bowlegged and
suddenly aware of his nudity, back to the cabin. The other
students were gone to breakfast, but Chris was still there. She
took a look at his face and asked with concern, "Jack, what
happened?" Despite his embarrassment he gave her the whole
story. With a no-nonsense tone in her voice, she gave him
directions to see the nurse. "And don't worry, I'll let your
morning session instructor know you'll be a bit late."
Jack put on a clean pair of boxers and sweat pants, and
headed across the campsite.
The nurse turned out to be Maria, the woman who ran the
campsite with her husband. She listened to Jack with a soothing
and sympathetic manner, and then asked him politely to bend over
the exam table and drop his pants. He did so, with the usual
unsettled feeling a man has when hearing the snap of latex gloves
behind him. Her touch was surprisingly delicate as she applied a
cream to the irritated area. Next she put a cool hand in the
middle of his back, murmured "please stay as still as possible,"
and slid a finger fully inside him. Jack quickly developed an
erection. Every time Maria moved her finger, Jack felt another
pulse of blood run through his swollen cock. The examination
continued until he finally had to close his eyes and surrender to
the inevitable; his ass bit down tightly on Maria's finger as his
balls spasmed and squirted their sticky load between his belly
and the table. He could feel his face flush hot with
embarrassment, but Maria merely waited for his bottom to unclench
before continuing.
Finally, she withdrew her finger and Jack heard the telltale
'snick' of the latex glove popping off her hand. "That must have
been a bad one this morning," she said with some empathy, "You
need to put this ointment on three times a day for a couple of
days and you'll be fine. I'll get you started." Jack felt her
slide the glob of cream between his cheeks and work it inside the
tight ring of his sphincter. It burned a little, but that passed
quickly and turned into a more general warmth, hard to ignore but
not unpleasant.
He stood there, getting used to the sensation, as Maria went
to the washbasin to clean herself up, then returned and handed
Jack a damp washcloth and the tube of ointment. "I'm sure you'd
like a little privacy to clean up," she said, smiling. Jack
nodded thankfully, waiting until the door was closed to stand up
and clean the drying semen off his stomach and cock. He got
dressed, took the ointment, and went quickly out of the exam room
and back to camp.
*****
His morning class was yoga and aerobics, and he found the
group stretching in a dell near the river. In the absence of
formal exercise clothes, everyone had stripped down to either
underwear or nothing at all. Jack joined them in a series of
deep knee bends; he was distracted by the effect those had on his
medicated bottom until he got into the spirit of the workout.
After a while he had worked up a sweat to match his fellow
students, and the instructor led them to the river for floating
exercises. This consisted of floating on your back and trying to
stay in one place relative to the riverbank using the least
amount of energy. Jack found it surprisingly easy. In fact, he
almost fell asleep twice during the practice.
Next on the schedule was lunch. Jack would have liked a
shower first, but the instructor had thoughtfully brought towels
so nobody had to get their clothes wet. In the dining area, Jack
decided to take the prudent course and restrict himself to soup.
Conversation today was much quieter than it had been the previous
evening. Everyone seemed to be only halfway attentive to the
meal, as if their attention was distracted by something inside
that only they could see.
The afternoon class was creative imagery in another meadow.
The students were mixed from different cabins, and his partners
in this exercise were a thin blonde named Becky, an athletic-
looking Hispanic who answered to Orlando, and a well-padded
redhead who called herself "Jade, as in Jewelry". Carl, the
camp's den father, was their instructor and he quickly got the
session under way.
"I want you all to sit or lie down comfortably, and cover
your eyes with these handkerchiefs," he explained, "then we'll do
some free association." Jack folded his legs Indian-fashion
while the others found their own preferred position. When all of
them were ready, Carl called out "Fruit!" Becky came up with
"Pineapple", Jack said "Banana" for no particular reason, and
Orlando added "Melons". Jack looked from Orlando to Jade, and
decided the other guy's mind wasn't completely on the task at
hand. Jade's response was "Mango", and next Carl prompted with
"Vegetable" which drew suggestions of Broccoli, Cucumber, Carrot
and Squash. Several more exchanges in this mode followed,
leaving Jack completely bemused as to what they could be
accomplishing.
After what seemed like a short time, but turned out to be
nearly an hour, Carl pronounced himself satisfied and sent the
students off for a quick break. Jack took the opportunity to
apply the second dose of the ointment that Maria had given him.
He shifted his feet restlessly as the cream sent the same burst
of heat through his insides, then went off to continue his day.
The last afternoon session was led by Chris, who led Jack and a
dozen others hiking through the camp and into the woods, finally
arriving in a softly grass-cushioned bower. "Sensory awareness,"
she said as everyone got comfortable, "is about feeling, not
about intellect. Everyone please remove your clothes and find a
place to lie down. Don't worry," she chuckled seeing some
anxious looks, "we run a bug-free campsite here."
There was a rush of bustling activity, collisions and
apologies until everybody got settled. "Feel the grass beneath
you, not just as a carpet, but as individual blades, each with
its own edge against your skin. Find the places where the ground
still has the damp coolness of dew. Let your arms and hands
float by your side; let your mind relax while the sensations come
in."
Jack was having a hard time following the instructions. For
one thing, his head was on a hard spot in the ground. For
another, despite what Chris had said he was sure he felt
something crawling up his balls. He wriggled to try and dislodge
whatever it was, but succeeded only in moving himself so that his
asscheeks were snuggled up against a tree root. He didn't want
to be the only one complaining, though, so he did his best to
relax. The afternoon sun and breeze were certainly comforting,
and after a bit he found that he could indeed pick out individual
blades of grass against his back and legs. He could even tell
which of his chest hairs was being stirred by the wind. His eyes
lidded over, and he let the warmth of the sun cover him like a
blanket. Stray puffs of air played tag from his head to his
toes, and back up between his legs. The grass beneath him
shifted and twitched like a living rug.
The next thing he knew, Chris was chucking him under the
chin. "Hey there," she said smiling, "I don't think sleeping
qualifies as awareness!" Jack looked around and saw the other
students already up, around and mostly dressed. He blushed and
pulled himself quickly to his feet as the group got ready to head
back to main camp for the evening. Chris explained that they'd
have a bit of time to clean up before dinner, and that after
dinner there would be a full camp meeting for demonstrations and
awards.
As the group hiked back, Jack wondered what kind of awards
could be given out. He hadn't seen anything in his classes that
resembled a test. He eventually gave it up as a waste of energy,
and joined in the lines for the cleanup facilities.
Dinner was -- no surprise -- pasta and vegetables. Jack
wondered if there was supposed to be a connection between
avoiding meat and being creative. After the meal, Carl and Maria
gave a brief speech about the weekend being successful and
reminded the cabin leaders that the recognition ceremony would
start promptly in an hour. When they got back to the cabin, Jack
was tired and took a quick nap. His other cabin companions
likewise seemed to want to reserve their energy. Only Chris
seemed excited, watching them with an "I know a secret" look on
her face.
*****
The haunting, bone-chilling sound of an oboe playing an
Eastern melody floats through the air. Chris gathered up her
charges and accompanied them through the dusky twilight across
the campgrounds to an open-air amphitheatre. Jack and the others
took up places on the hillside and waited to see what the big
build-up was about, while Chris headed elsewhere. Down at the
base of the hill was a small table with two chairs, some papers
and trophies, a pitcher of water, a basket of fruit, a boom box,
a standing microphone, a video camera, and an upright wooden
frame resembling a reinforced doorframe.
There wasn't much time to wonder about that, however, as
Carl and Maria entered the field of view, followed by Chris, Greg
and the other cabin leaders. They were all wearing something
like academic gowns, and would have fit in well at a college
ceremony. Carl stepped to the microphone and began the
proceedings, thanking everyone for their hard work and
participation. After that, Maria took the stage and flipped a
switch on the boom box. As the odd melodies echoed off the
surrounding trees, she announced recognition of seminar
participants for such obviously gag prizes as most return visits
to the salad bar, fastest 100-meter sprint to the restroom (Jack
was very glad not to find himself the winner there), and longest
time balancing on one foot.
After the "winners" had come down, claimed their
certificates, and headed back up the hill, Carl once again took
over the mike. "Every time we run this seminar, some of our
attendees surprise both us and themselves by demonstrating great
talents in a few specialized areas. You were all accepted here
with two things in mind; what we could do for you, and what you
could do for others. We're all very proud that three of you have
earned the unanimous recognition of our teaching staff for
outstanding achievement in both areas of focus. Would someone
escort Orlando out here?"
At this point the Hispanic from Jack's free association
exercise came out, accompanied by a petite counselor from one of
the other cabins, both of them in the academic gowns. As the
music played, the counselor unzipped the front of her gown
showing that she was nude beneath. She turned to Orlando and
stood between him and the audience to remove his gown, then
stepped aside. A soft gasp came from the gathered crowd.
Orlando's body had been oiled until it gleamed in the soft
lights, and he sported a massive cock in full rampant erection.
A few of the observers whistled in appreciation. The counselor
ran her hand under his balls and up the shaft; her hand could
barely wrap around the head.
Maria pulled a chair up, and she and the counselor guided
Orlando into the chair with his legs spread on either side. With
barely a trace of hesitance, the counselor climbed up into his
lap. Orlando held his cock in place while the other girl
positioned herself, and finally, she began inching downward. The
music faded, and for moments the only sounds were the chirping of
crickets and the audible panting of the counselor.
Finally, and not without murmurs of disbelief from the
audience, the small woman was fully impaled, her bottom resting
between the bigger man's legs. With unexpected grace, Orlando
now stood up, his passenger wrapping her legs around his back as
she held onto him. Standing in front of the audience, he sank
quickly to his knees, drawing a muffled squeak from his
passenger, then rose back up. He repeated the calisthenics, each
time with more alacrity, as his passenger writhed against him and
bucked up and down. Finally she shrieked out in erotic ecstasy
and dug her nails across his back leaving long red trails. As
she did so, Orlando stood up straight and tall, and the muscles
of his legs went taut and starkly outlined. His ass clenched
visibly, and the girl atop him gave out one last choked gasp
before collapsing limply in his arms.
Maria and the other counselor came out again, and each held
the still-shaking girl by shoulder and hip, sliding her off the
big man as his cock popped free, shining with their mingled
juices and only half-soft. There was some soft applause and a
few whistles from the audience.
As the first group left the center area, Greg from the other
cabin led a nude and blindfolded Martha into view. Jack blinked
twice; the change in Martha from the woman who had blithely shown
off her nude body in his cabin was striking. This Martha's body
had been oiled in the same way that Orlando's had, and showed in
its entire ripe splendor from the strong calf muscles to the
proudly erect nipples. Greg fastened her wrists to cuffs at the
upper corners of the doorframe, and her ankles to matching ones
at the base.
As Greg left, another counselor came out from the shadows.
This woman was dressed in the academic gown, and carried a small
bag with her. She reached out to pinch one brown-tipped nipple,
drawing a long sigh from Martha. Smiling, the woman began
pinching Martha's nipples and rolling the ball of her thumb
against them. Martha responded by arching her back and pressing
her breasts forward to the teasing hands.
The other woman stepped back, drawing a pout from her bound
target, and knelt to pull a small nine-tailed cat from her bag.
She moved around behind Martha, and all watching were able to
tell when the little implement made its first impact. Martha's
mouth opened wide, but no sound came forth. For some minutes, the
woman alternately stroked and whipped the leather implement
across Martha's backside as Martha's face showed both the
anticipation and the impact.
Finally, the woman dropped the cat and stood behind Martha,
sliding her arms around the hanging girl on either side. She
moved her hands sinuously down across bare belly to the girl's
inner thighs, pulling her legs apart as a spotlight came into
focus. Martha's pudenda were obscenely swollen, dark red,
visibly dripping. The woman waved a hand and two of the
counselors came over to release Martha from the frame. They laid
her down, feet toward the audience, legs splayed widely. The
woman squatted over Martha's face and lowered herself down
slowly, balancing on one hand while her other hand pinched and
tugged at Martha's nipples.
The air of quiet intensity in the audience was palpable.
All eyes were on the two women, one rubbing her cunt hard against
the other's face, the other lying spread-eagled, hips hunching
fervently upward into empty air. The woman on Martha's face
came, crying out into the night as her body stiffened. When her
eyes opened again, she dramatically licked her index finger,
reached outward, and flicked Martha's clit just once. The
reaction was explosive; Martha nearly threw the other woman off
her face as she bucked and writhed in the throes of a massive
orgasm.
Eventually Martha collapsed, limp and sweat-slick, and the
other counselors came from either side to assist her out of
sight.
Now, Carl and Maria took center stage again to announce the
presentation of the session's special recognition, the camper who
made the most unexpected progress. Heads in the audience could
be seen turning this way and that, wondering who this unknown
person was. Jack had the same thought, when Chris showed up and
took him by the hand. Shocked, Jack followed her without
hesitation. She led him silently down through the audience to
the center of the glade, and stripped him of his clothing, all
the time stroking his shoulders and settling him as she would a
nervous filly. "Close your eyes, Jack, and float with me..."
His eyes closed, then opened again unfocused. His muscles
relaxed, and he stood calmly as the unknowing center of
attention. "Feel the Earth Mother enter into you," Chris
prompted, and his cock jerked by steps to its full glory. Her
scent surrounded him, and in his mind he was back in those hazy
dreams. Chris spoke, her words taking on the singsong quality of
ritual, and her hand slipped down between his bottom cheeks. The
rush of blood to his phallus made his knees half-buckle, so that
Chris and another counselor had to help him stand upright.
As they held him in place, Carl joined them and with quiet
dignity slipped his robe from his shoulders. For a man his age,
he was in excellent shape. Carl lay down on the ground between
Jack's feet, and Chris and the other counselor held the dazed man
by the arms and sides easing him downward until he made contact
with the older man's upright cock.
Jack felt the touch at his bottom, and he spread his legs in
an unconscious but well-trained reaction, his anus widening and
snapping against the entering tip. Jack hunched down, his mouth
gaping open, and worked his way further by fractions of an inch,
bobbing and twisting like an Indian fakir until he was seated in
the older man's lap, his bottom filled and his breath coming in
quick panting gasps.
Jack's mind floated in an erotic haze, Chris's perfume still
deep in his mind, the feel of her finger exploring his bottom as
he parted his legs further. A warm breath passed over his lips,
and once more he was in the lust-fevered dream as that long
erotic kiss pinned him in place, her tongue probing the reaches
of his palate...
The watching audience could not know that Jack was yearning
for his lover's tongue; what they saw was Orlando, his cock still
gleaming from his earlier encounter, placing the tip at Jack's
lips. Jack reached lovingly around the Hispanic man's upper legs
to caress the other man's ass, pulling his cock inside Jack's
mouth. Jack's body moved in a hundred different directions, and
the two other men followed his lead in a dance with only one
possible conclusion, a mutual explosion from above and below,
matched by the thick slow spurting of semen from Jack's untouched
cock as the audience burst into spontaneous applause.
Maria, Chris and a few other counselors joined the three men
on the stage as the audience left by ones, twos and threes to
their cabins. In only a brief time, the glade was once again
empty save for the indentations in the grass and a musky scent
permeating the air.
***
Jack was in the glade again, only he knew now that he was
dreaming. Still, it was a pleasant dream and he had no desire to
wake up. He was swimming, and the water around him was alive.
It kissed his skin as he moved through it, it grabbed and dragged
at his cock, it suckled at his toes.
Chris's perfume washed over him, and he felt her cool hands
once again slide down his back and into the space between his
rear cheeks. Her fingers applied cream to his stretched hole,
and he lifted his ass up to spread his knees automatically. A
puff of warm breath teased the proffered entrance, but his
instructor had other activities in mind. She cupped his rapidly
filling shaft in her hand, and helped him turn over onto his
back. As Jack lay there, half awake and half in the erotic dream
that had consumed him, Chris straddled his hips and slid onto his
cock then rode him slowly for what seemed like an hour.
Eventually they both came, and she collapsed on top of him with
her full breasts bouncing against his chest.
*****
Sunday morning started with the shrill trumpet sound of
Reveille echoing through the camp. Chris zipped through the
cabin slapping the tired students on their respective rumps.
"Time to get up, kids. Polar bear swim, then we hit the running
path!" Thankfully she was only kidding about the morning swim,
but five minutes later they were joining the other campers in a
20-minute jog around the camp, beside the river, and finally to
the meal hall.
Jack was still tired; he'd been too sleepy last night to
remember much of the recognition ceremony, and he still seemed to
have cobwebs across his brain. The morning exercise helped a
lot. Jack looked around as he munched on his pancakes, and
noticed that the hall seemed less crowded than the previous day.
He looked more carefully, and sure enough there were fewer people
than he remembered. For one, his cabinmate Martha wasn't there.
Before he could give the matter much thought, though, Carl
ascended to the podium for a going-away speech. Certificates of
attendance, duly marked as "suitable for framing", were handed
out, and in short order the stragglers finished their food and
were chivvied off to their cabins for pack-up and checkout.
As Jack waited in line for the van to take him back to
school, he kept having the oddest sensation that people were
looking at him. Yet whenever he turned around, everyone was
engaged in normal conversation. He shook his head; anxiety about
his writing class must be creeping back in. Shortly afterward,
Chris and Greg drove up and took their passengers back on the
road. Just as on the way out, the odd music was playing on the
stereo, and Jack took the opportunity to catch up on his sleep.
For some reason he felt dog-tired this morning.
When he finally got back to his own room, ensconced in
familiar surroundings, Jack booted his computer and took a shot
at the writing assignment. To his great surprise, he zipped
through it in no time and with hardly any effort. Three pages
later, he had a printout that was undoubtedly the best writing of
his college career. He whistled softly, and decided to give
Sherry a call to celebrate. Before he could do that, though, the
back bedroom door opened and Ken came out. "Hey, roomie," he
boomed out, "how did the weekend go?" Jack couldn't restrain
himself; he showed Ken the printout and gushed about how amazing
the weekend was. "And the oddest thing is that I would have
sworn all weekend that we weren't doing anything to help my
writing. I tell you, Ken, I owe you a big one for this!"
Ken's response was a muted chuckle, and the enigmatic
comment, "I think I've already been paid." He reached out and
stroked a spot behind Jack's left ear, and whispered something
only half-intelligible. The change in Jack was both sudden and
subtle; his face became more placid, his nostrils flared and his
breathing deepened. Ken smiled, and this time it was the smile
of the predator. He unbuckled his belt and slid his pants and
briefs to the floor. "Here you go, Jack, do your thing!" Jack
smiled like a baby looking at candy, and massaged Ken's balls and
rising cock. Pursing his lips, he moved his face forward
smoothly to take Ken's length easily while his free hand worked
its way between Ken's asscheeks. It was only a few minutes
before Ken pumped a load into Jack's willing mouth, filling it
until thick strands leaked out one corner and down onto Jack's
knee.
The sound of slow applause broke the subsequent tableau.
"Damn," said Sherry, "I swear the boy's a natural." Ken grinned
at her nude form, his cock popping free from Jack's mouth.
Sherry had obviously been masturbating furiously while watching
the two men; her vulva was swollen and dark red, and her nipples
were standing out like firm erasers. "He's good, all right," Ken
agreed, "would you like to try out the other end?"
"No thanks," Sherry said as she closed the distance between
them. "I'm sure he's trained as well as your other roommates
ended up. Right now I need cock and I need it bad, so you'd
better not have given him everything!" She paused, and turned
toward Jack who was kneeling quietly in the middle of the room,
his eyes unfocused. "Go do your homework, sweet Jack, and we'll
talk about your trip later." Sherry grabbed Ken by his cock and
practically dragged him back into the bedroom, slamming the door
behind them.
The sound seemed to rouse Jack, who got up from the floor as
if nothing untoward had happened. He went over to his computer
and started writing. The sounds from the back bedroom percolated
through to him, and he paused to reflect on what a lucky guy he
was. It sounded like Ken was finally getting lucky too. Maybe
he would set his roommate up with Sherry; that would be a nice
thing to do, kind of like paying Ken back for helping Jack pass
his writing course.
Life was good.
///// Completed 12-25-2001 by Rajah Dodger
rdodger@hotmail.com
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\