Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Summer Camp
Summary: A camper flirts with his counselor, leading to blow jobs in the
wee hours and found memories years later.  100% fiction, of course, and
don't read if you are not of legal age.
Codes: Mm, gay, oral.
   By A.Muller
   The sound of the dinner bell echoed around the valley and reached the
campers' ears.  They had been working hard for an hour, preparing the fire
circle for tomorrow night's weekly ceremony under the stars.  They looked
at me, and I nodded.  "Go ahead," I said, and they headed toward the dining
hall, some running, some jogging, a few just walking.
   There were no bullies or meanies in the group, just a dozen 12- and
13-year-olds enjoying an idyllic summer outdoors as hormones reshaped their
bodies, turning them from boys into young, virile men.
   One camper lagged well behind the group.  He was usually a bit shy, and
I didn't know him as well as I knew many of the other campers.  "What's the
matter, Tim?" I asked.  He didn't say a word, and continued walking slowly
up the trail.  As I approached closer to him, to ask my question again, he
looked over his shoulder at me and started walking quite fast.  I increased
my own pace with the intend of catching up to him.
   The other campers were at the trail's end.  As they exited the trail,
they bunched together and -- chattering among themselves -- headed up a
small hill toward the dining hall.  Timothy, however, was veering off the
trail and heading toward a shed where we counselors kept some of the camp's
gear.  He looked over his shoulder, smiled, and broke into a jog.
   "Hey, Tim, where are you going," I called out, and jogged to catch him.
He broke into a run, still looking over his shoulder from time to time.  I
began running as well.  It was a chase that ended as quickly as it began
when Tim simply quit running and lay down at the shed door.  His feet were
in the grass, his head and torso stretched out on the shed's concrete pad,
his face half hidden by his hands.
   I lightly brushed his head with my hand, to check if he was OK.  He
peeked at me through his fingers, mysteriously smiling all the time.  He
was, I decided, almost certainly flirting with me.  Humm.
   So far camp had followed the usual script: We counselors pried our eyes
open at 6 in the morning, shepherded the kids throughout the morning,
afternoon, and evening, and after getting them to bed at 8 o'clock or so,
then played cards for an hour or two, or just chewed the fat, before
heading to bed.  One day a week we got the afternoon and evening off.
   The hours were long, the pay lousy, but the work was fun -- and usually
not dangerous.  But a flirting camper spelled D-A-N-G-E-R in flashing neon.
You can go to prison for a long, long time for sex with a minor under your
supervision.  But hey, I was 18 and felt invincible.  And I was very, very
horny.
   Tim and I remained at the shed for only a minute, with my gently
stroking his head, and his lying there like a cat.  I could almost hear him
purring.  "Time to go," I said, and we stood up.
   I was still wary.  I was pretty sure that Tim was flirting with me, but
what if I was wrong?  "If you ever --," I said in a quiet voice, letting
the sentence die an unnatural death.  Tim fielded the virtual ball
flawlessly.  He looked up at me, smiled, and said simply, "OK." And then we
walked toward the dining hall, with Tim a half step ahead of me.
   For the next couple of days, nothing further happened.  Camp was drawing
to a close, and I figured, upon reflection, that even if Tim had been
flirting, nothing was going to come of it.  I was wrong, delightfully
wrong. About 2 a.m.  on the third day, I was awakened by a hand brushing my
face, and then by Tim's quietly slipping under the covers of my narrow camp
bed.  I reached out and stroked his shoulders and face and hair and back,
and he did the same, and we kissed, gingerly at first, then harder and
harder, and passionately.
   My tent, while private, was one of six arranged in a circle, and the
rest were four-person tents occupied by campers.  Tim and I needed to go
somewhere where we could make some joyous noise, and I just happened to
have a key to the dining hall that I had conveniently neglected to return
to the camp office a few days earlier.  "Let's go," I whispered in Tim's
ear.  Silently, we headed toward the dining hall.
   Once inside, I pulled out one of the mats that the youngest campers used
when taking their afternoon naps.  Then I grabbed Tim, and we resumed our
kissing and stroking, only this time my hands wandered down his torso and
under his p.j.  waistband.  His dick, like mine, was eager with
anticipation.  He moaned and lifted his butt, not in a fucking motion but
rather to indicate that he wanted his p.j.  bottom removed.  Happily I did
so, and began tickling his balls and cock.  He moaned some more, and lifted
his ass off the mat.  I took the hint and began slowly stroking his cock.
He moaned some more and kissed me hard on the lips, sliding his tongue deep
into my mouth.
   When he pulled away he whispered urgently: "Do something.  Please do
something!"
   I smiled, kissed him again, and lowered my head to the tip of his dick,
and began kissing and sucking it while working my right hand over his
balls. I began pumping his dick with both my lips and my hand.  His balls
tensed and, in just seconds, he began shooting off into my mouth.  I don't
particularly like the taste of cum, and I find swallowing cum difficult
indeed, but I wasn't going to waste any of Tim's love juices.  So I
swallowed and then moved my head back up to his, and kissed him, hard.
   "Your turn," I said.
   Tim swiveled on the mat and lowered his head to my dick.  He kissed it
tenderly, running his tongue from my balls to my cock's head, and gently
swirled his tongue around the head and then probed the entrance.  He
scooted down the mat, so that he was between my legs, and then began
licking the underside of my cock near the head but never at the head.  The
effect was electric.  My cock swelled, and my balls tightened, but Tim had
one hand on my balls, and each time they tightened, he slowed his licking
and moved away from the head.
   This continued for several minutes.  Then, when my ball sack began to
tighten one more time, Tim let nature takes it course.  He increased the
pace of his licking and, as the feeling of inevitability arose in my groin,
Tim moved his mouth over the top of my dick and clamped down.  I fired into
his mouth again and again, as if I would never stop.  Tim gagged and
swallowed, but I kept cumming.  The weeks of horny camp life had filled my
pump to the brim, and it was all cumming out.  In the dim light I could see
my cum drip out of his mouth.
   "Thank you!  You're amazing" I whispered.
   "My pleasure," Tim replied.  "I've been wanted to suck you from the
minute I met you.  I've only sucked off my friend Bobby before, but I think
I know what I'm doing."
   "And how!" I said.
   We lay there, stroking each other's bodies for perhaps ten minutes
before getting up, replacing the mat, and heading back to the tents.
   I wish I could say that Tim and I sucked and fucked every night till the
end of camp, but it was not to be.  There was simply too much going on at
camp for us to get together again.  However, on the last day of camp, Tim
made a point of introducing me to his mom.  "Here's the counselor I've been
telling you about," he told her as he made the introductions.
   "You have a wonderful son," I told her.  "It was a pleasure to know
him."
   "The pleasure was all mine," Tim said while giving me a big hug.  I
hugged him back, and gave his ass a little squeeze.
   That was the last time I ever saw Tim, as he and his mom climbed into
their car and drove away, but I'll always savor the minutes we got together
and found bliss on a nap mat in the camp dining room.  A fitting place it
was, I think, to eat our fill of cum.
   THE END
   
  
Summer Camp