If the following story is real in any way, I offer my sincere pity to the participants and urge them to seek counseling.  The following work is a piece of fiction in a world without diseases, where people are free to care about each other, and to destroy each other.

The following text should not be read by anyone who isn't ready for it, and I will take no responsibility for anyone catching you with it.  It may be freely passed around so long as this entire introduction is kept intact, and that it does not appear, in any fashion or method, on a site that takes money for membership or benefits.  I retain full rights to any other form of publication, and it may not appear in any compilation or other printed form, aside from a single copy for the reader to enjoy at their leisure.

The story contains graphic sexual encounters between adults and children; or at least what the law recognizes as being children.  All participants are of what any objective scientist would consider to be of an 'adult' grouping, IE they have all reached sexual maturity.

It deals with the darkest of human actions, that of rape, of manipulation, of greed and the journeys through a world that can be at times cold and uncaring, but can be adjusted by the actions of others into a better place.  In other words, it is a fantasy.  The author neither condones nor encourages such activities; and reading this story in certain locations is against the law.

I was inspired to write this story from reading a few news stories, and from reading some of the vast collection of erotica on http://www.asstr.org  If they could go to such lengths to create, maintain and expand such an archive, I could do my bit and add to the pile.  If you liked this story, the best way you can demonstrate it is by donating to asstr.org.  Your applause is nice, put your money where your hands are.

If you have any comments, post them onto the alt.sex.stories.d board, or wait until I have a comment form up on asstr.org (pending approval, of course.)  Address the comments to me, I’ll be looking.

FastCat

**> The following story is (c) 2004 by Fastcat, all rights are reserved.  Reposting is permitted so long as the above notice is included. **<

The Village in the Wooded Glen
Written by FastCat
Version 1.0
February 2004


**> Part 2: History Lesson <**

The town was so small that many questioned if a school was needed at all.  The owner of the buildings (incidentally the town mayor and head of the school board) was one of the most enthusiastic supporters, followed quickly by just about every parent in town.  If you had kids, you wanted a school.  If you didn't, you hated the idea.

The parents won out, mostly because they were the only ones who bothered to vote.  A second war almost broke out when a church suggested that the town pay a fee per student and they'd handle the education..  The letter from the ACLU, hopeful that they could create a court fight, drew the steam out of the brief movement.

Three teachers were hired, two for primary education, one for secondary education.  I taught just about every kid in town who was under the age of 19 and over the age of nine. All of them were in a single room - what used to be an unmentionables store.  The budget was so minimal, and parental involvement so scattered, that we still had the dressing rooms.

The first quarter of each day was set aside for reading, mostly to give me a chance to handle the never ending grant request writing.  The city paid for the rent, my salary, and some of the bills.  Everything else came from grants or donations; a cardboard box would be considered a pretty hefty donation some days.

In all, there were about twelve students in the class room.  Two 'seniors', a boy and a girl, aged 18 were hoping to be our first graduating class.  Four more filled out the 16-17 range, equally divided between boy and girl.  Of the remaining six, three 10-11 year old boys made up half of it, with two twelve year old girls, and one fourteen year old girl who would become the bane of my existence.

Sarah Parker was her name, daughter of the mayor, and the token rebel for the whole town.  Small towns are hard on kids, I hear, especially when you're virtually the only one from a particular age group.  The six older ones swapped each other’s partners pretty regularly, one dating another exclusively for a month or so at a time, then breakups would re-align the pack.  The younger boys were still in the 'girls are yuck' stage and the two twelve year olds were too tomboyish for Sarah's tastes as hang out partners.  She was also one of my laziest students.  

Grading was pretty easy; show up at class, give a good try at the work, turn in something for homework, you were pretty much assured an A.  Giving out poor grades would be a quick way for me to lose my job, of course.  Sarah just didn't want to do much.

So it was with some annoyance that I told her to stay after when the kids were gathering up their papers to go home.  I had to give her the bad news that she would have the pleasure of the first F in a subject for the new school.  In history of all subjects.

The others filed out of the storefront and scattered to junker vehicles or bikes, depending upon age.  I sat down and explained to Sarah that she was failing history, mostly because she'd never open the hard fought for book and just read it.

She shocked me when she shook her head and said bluntly, "Nope, I'm not failing.  You're going to give me all A's this year, or you're going to jail."

I chuckled; there was no possibility she was right.  At least the college teaching courses I took never mentioned a failing student causing the teacher to go to jail, and while one doesn't ordinarily want to annoy the spawn of the most powerful man in town, even he knew that his hellion daughter wasn't worth the fight.

"And just how would this happen," I asked her.  I had the vague hope that perhaps she'd come up with some creative reason that would up her civics scores from the dismal D land it was residing in.

She shifted in her seat, a finger tracing marks that in some places might be considered graffiti on her desk.  "Because you're going to get charged with rape if you fail me."

"Rape?" I asked, rather puzzled.  I hadn't dated anyone in town for so long some were whispering among the back fences and over horrible coffee that I might be gay.

She nodded her head.  "Yup, of a student."

I thought over the older girls in the class, not one of whom I had so much as hugged in all the time of teaching and just shook my head.  "I haven't done a thing, why do you imagine Debbie, Theresa or Andi would say I tried to rape them?"  A thought crossed my mind, "None of them are pregnant, are they?"  Perhaps one might try to protect a boyfriend by claiming their expanding bellies came from the teacher.

"No, silly," she replied, licking her lips and exposing her much gossiped about tongue stud.  "Of raping me.  All the kids know that you're seeing me alone right now, and if you insist on giving me a poor grade, I'm going to tell everyone that you raped me."

I blanched, and tried to deny the situation.  "Who would believe such a claim?" I asked.  

She smiled and pulled out a newspaper clipping about a teacher who was just arrested for engaging in behavior that shouldn't happen with a student.  "They all read the papers, they know these types of things happen.  And when I show everyone the blood soaked panties I had to wear home after you raped me, you'd be lucky if you lived long enough to be arrested, much less being convicted when the judge comes around."

"Why are you doing this," I demanded.  "All you have to do to improve your grade is open the damn book, read every once in a while, and get some of the questions right on the tests.  A couple homework papers coming back would be nice too.  Why make these outrageous threats?"

She leaned back in her chair, showing off her second outrageous piercing, a small ring peaking out from her belly button.  "Why not?" she replied.  "I fully intend upon it coming true, you know.  None of the older guys want to take a second look at me, not when they're screwing out by the woods with their sluts, and the other boys in the school still haven't figured out that their dicks can be used for anything other than pissing their names in snow banks.  I wanna get fucked, and I picked you to do it.  You gotta choice, you can give me a poor grade and get arrested for raping me, or you can give me good grades and actually get your fingers on the goods as a bonus."

I was about as pale as a ghost, considering her threat.  The non-dating gossip would be used against me by the social mongers in town - obvious signs that I was raping the children.  The other kids would probably helpfully parrot that I had held this girl back to 'talk' to her, clear evidence of when the 'rape' happened.  "No," I said, trying to deny that this was even happening.

"Yes," she snidely replied.  "I told my dad this morning that I'd be spending time over at your place for tutoring every day after school which he was more than happy to accept; gives him time to screw around with his secretary without me walking in and seeing something inappropriate."

"Why me," I asked for the second time, not understanding anything at all.  I wouldn't even be able to tell someone my name at the moment.

"Why not," she replied.  "I read the story in the paper, thought about it, and realized you were the perfect answer.  You're an Indian, so everyone would already believe you'd rape a white woman, and chicken shit enough to make it a child to boot.  I have no choices as to boyfriends, and it's partly your fault - if you got arrested, they'd likely close the school, and I'd have some boys to choose from when we get bussed to another place.  Since I'll have to break my cherry to prove you've raped me, I won't have to worry about the family doctor spilling the beans that I'm sleeping around.  If I do sleep with you, you can take me out of town to see a doctor, or I can pretend that it broke while I was riding my bike."

I had to admit, later, that I shamed the entire male race with my whiny voice, "This isn't fair!"

"Yup, you got it Tonto," she replied snidely.  "Just think of it, though - you get to fuck the mayor's daughter.  And what's more, you get to find out what a stud sliding across your dick feels like.  I want to do it all, as much as I can get done.  There isn't anything about my body I'd deny you, any request I wouldn't do to you.  You want a blow job while driving?  My head will be bobbing in your lap.  The only thing I'll refuse is your refusal."

It was funny, her language was making me angry.  "Where did you learn about all this junk?" I snapped at her.

She laughed and reached for her book bag, opening it up and tossing a much thumbed through Variations onto her desk.  "My father's impression as to what sex education materials should be, I think.  You shouldn't have shuffled off the task of going through donated books to me."

Fuck.  "You know," I said, trying another tack, "the stories in those magazines are fake.  People don't do those types of things."

She laughed, "What, proper people like my father?  You know that is bullshit. Now, why don't you gather up your papers and let's get out of here..  You got some beer at home?  Seems to me that you could use one; me too for that matter."

I tried a final attempt to defend my honor, to turn the course away from this, this..  This insanity.  "I could call your bluff."

She shrugged, reached into her book bag again, and pulled out a hairbrush.  She showed the tapered handle to me, lifted her short skirt and pulled the white panties to the side and spread her legs.  "One way or another, I'm breaking my cherry today.  Wouldn't you rather it be your cock than this brush?  Tell me that you're going to fuck me, or I'll break it right now and run outside screaming about your attack.  I bet no one will bother to check the sewer for the condom you used to cover up your dirty deed..  Think they'll shoot you and then hang you, or hang you first, then use you for target practice?"

"Put that away," I started to say, and was cut off.

"I'm gonna count to three, and before I finish, you're gonna swear you're going to fuck me, or I break it," she snarled, pushing the brush towards her slit.  A part of my mind was wondering if the brush would even fit into her small space as she said one, and it wasn't until two that I figured out that she was fucking serious.

"I'll do it," I said, defeated.

"That won't do," she nearly yelled.  "Swear it, say it, tell me what you're gonna do, or I swear I'll shove this thing in so hard that I'll be scared for life."

"I said I'd do it," I replied, my voice whiney.

"Say it, say you swear you're going to take me to your place and fuck me.  Say you swear you're going to take my cherry today.  Say it now!"

"I..  I swear I'm going to fuck you, bitch" I snarled.  I don't think I hated anyone more than her at that moment, which was a huge mistake.  Hate and love are so close to each other in emotions, I didn't realize until later how completely she won.

She smiled, bent over, and tucked the brush away.  "I don't mind being your bitch" she said quietly, "just so long as I get what I want.  But if you try to trick me, it'll be just a moment before I find some way of getting you killed or worse.  Otherwise, I'm yours to do as you please with."

*>

The drive to my trailer was a quiet one, my mind still trying to figure out some way of escaping, my heart halfway up my throat.  We waved to the sheriff who was ticketing one of the highway travelers in the town's speed trap.  He's a pretty happy go lucky guy, but I wouldn't put my life expectancy at more than a minute in the scenario that this girl outlined.

I felt like every person in town watched us walk up the steps to the double wide, sure that someone was about to descend upon me and call me a rapist.  A child molester.  No such luck.  I went to the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers, my actions mechanical enough to qualify me as being artificial intelligence, I didn't even think about how wrong it was to hand her one of them.

I popped the top, slumped down into what used to be a rather comfortable chair, and contemplated what the hell I had gotten myself trapped into.  Maybe I might had been able to deflect her accusation if I had just picked up the phone and called 911, in the first instant after she made the threat.

Yeah, right, nice fantasy.  I looked over to my new beer buddy and took her in.  Yeah, my dick had gotten hard a couple times when she posed in class in some of her more outrageous outfits, and I swear on the second day that she had come to school without panties, giving me snap looks at her crotch.

Someone else, I might have been able to talk out of this course, but I already knew Sarah to be one of the most bullheaded people in town.  She'd argue the result of a math question, even if it was shown on a calculator, if she had a different idea.

And well, she was sort of cute.  The punkish outfit she favored was not to my tastes, it was about as far from what I'd consider sexy as something could get.  Her ugly lipstick and too much makeup, and colors in her hair disgusted me.  "Go wash your face," I snapped towards her.  "Get rid of that crap, or I'll call the police and admit my crime, damn it."

She had been drinking her beer, considering the taste of the brew I preferred, when I had made my demands.  She looked over towards me, and I could see a moment of rebellion in her eyes and then she shrugged, stood up and set the beer on the table.  "Sure; I'll change anything you want, except what you've sworn to do."  I listened to the boots leave the room and pondered getting out my gun and shooting myself.

I was finishing her beer by the time she returned. She was completely naked, the hideous makeup gone, the hair darkened from recent washing.  Her new formed breasts coned out and the nipples slightly tilted upward, her sparse bush was enough to identify her womanhood, and that was just about it. Her legs were smooth, her arms smooth..  The belly ring was still there, as well as a line of tanning across her middle, but she had somewhat regained an air of innocence.

And damn it, she was sort of good looking.  Well, no, she was good looking, if you just ignored what she had done to me in the classroom.  Had she made an honest offer right then and there, I could easily have accepted such a gift.  Instead, I was the one who was being forced in the matter, and I fucking hated the idea of being raped.

"Turn around," I snapped.  She did, and her tight rump was heart shaped..  Delicious looking, in fact.  And that ticked me off even more.  I hated myself when I decided that screw this, I was going to use her like a dime hooker.  A true slam, bam, thank you ma'am.  All my anger was going into making it as horrible of an experience as I could make it, on the vague hope that she'll so hate the act that she'll never ask for it again, nor want to continue the relationship.

"Go fucking lay down on the bed, spread your legs.  Might want to figure out how to loosen yourself up, because I'm going to go in there and just fuck you like the bitch that you are," I said, throwing the can hard into the trash and fetching another out of the fridge.  I didn't even look to see if she followed my instructions, and my groin awoke at the thought of some pussy.

The beer really helped.  It gave me a bit of a detachment to my anger, so that a peace loving Indian could beat the crap out of a child and then discard her like flushing a rubber down the drain.  "You better have a condom ready, bitch," I yelled after her.  "I ain't going to find you a baby killer if you get pregnant; if you thought this thing out so far as to do this to me, then you can accept the consequences of what happens."

Damn it, I was pissed, quickly becoming horny, and well, just about out of my beer.

*>

I looked over at the camp leader and shrugged my shoulders.  "I could claim it was the beer that did it, or that perhaps it was what she deserved.  I violated that girl so roughly, and I just didn't care.  I slammed through her maidenhead, rammed my cock home repeatedly until I spilled into her womb.  She didn't offer a rubber, and even if she had, I'm not sure I would have bothered.  Probably was better for her that she didn't; I caused enough damage as it was bareback.

"I even went out afterwards and got her a beer, telling her that she can either drink it, or use the coolness to drop the swelling a bit.  I doubt I gave her much more than ten minutes before I told her to get her fucking ass out of my house.  I went through whatever alcohol I had on hand, a deep binge.  I was half drunk still when I showed up late the next day to school; and anyone could have smelled the brewery from a half block away.

"The students didn't seem to care or notice, and Sarah..  Sarah was wearing a flower patterned sun dress, and sandals, and she turned in her first history homework of the year.  Gone was the radical hair colors, the dark makeup.

"The day didn't last long, and I'm sure I was a horrible teacher that day, but no one complained.  I was a bit surprised when Sarah was standing next to my car after I locked up.  She noted that her tutoring was everyday after school, and she didn't say anything else once I had opened her door.

"We went back into the double wide and I didn't touch a bit of booze that night.  I had tried to soothe her soreness with my tongue, but it just hurt too much, and after a time, I just broke down crying.  I felt her mouth on me, the stud running along the bottom vein, and the tears streamed.  Her mouth was so soft and gentle aside from that stud, and I probably had the best blowjob of my life.

"She left me there, crying, not a trace of my seed anywhere except down her throat, and I cried late into the night.  Finally, exhausted, I fell asleep, waking only when the sheriff tapped at my door with a jolly reminder that there were students waiting for their teacher at school."

I fell silent for a time, letting the words hang in the air, and he just sipped at his drink, looking at me.  After a bit, he finally said, "I assume things got much better."

I nodded.  "By the time the summer came around, I was feeling sorry that I wouldn't have the excuse to spend so much time with Sarah.  She came up with a solution, convincing her father to propose the first summer school.  Sarah was one of a couple students, and the half days left us with long afternoon hours to enjoy each other’s company."

He looked over towards the screen, and the still flashing pictures of the children I was accused of molesting.  "What about them?" he asked.

"Sarah," I replied, as if that explained everything.  "She had heard that one of the boys had finally gotten some hair around his dick, and arranged for him to catch me and Sarah in one of our more energetic fuck sessions.  I bet Sarah's jaw dropped to the ground when it turned out he was a fag, and I took wicked enjoyment sucking off his first load, and letting him enjoy the drool from my cock.  He was the only other one out of the class that I had sex with, the rest of the accusers were forced into making up stories.

"David was just, well, something different, and half of my enjoyment with him was that it made Sarah jealous.  A week before everything fell apart, she had finally gotten him to fuck her.  I just about fell off the bed laughing when he just shrugged and said that next time, he'd just as much like to fuck her butt instead.  He liked that kind of thing, humping my ass as I piled into Sarah.  Gotta admit I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected myself.

"Sarah decided that she'd had enough of sharing me with him, and convinced him to approach one of the other boys in class.  That boy told his father that David was a fag, and when confronted with David's father and the other boy's father, David came up with an explanation that I was fucking students in class.

"It was twisted; it was as if Sarah's threat had come true.  Most of the students were forced by their parents to come up with all sorts of stories, including group orgies. The sheriff decided to hold me in a cell and bar anyone from coming to the jail without his permission. The lone deputy still found the opportunity to have me slip in the shower a few times, the last time with enough force to give me a concussion.

"The deputy was dismissed, and the sheriff oversaw my recovery.  By that time, the town was truly turning into a tempest, with nightly protests in front of the jail, and not a few random shots at windows.  One night, the sheriff tossed me a six pack, and he settled down with some of his own.  That was when I spilled everything that had happened.

"He listened quietly to the whole story, got up, and left me for a while. I was twisting my sheets into a noose when he returned, David and Sarah beside him.  Both confirmed everything, with the additional information that Sarah was now pregnant.

"The sheriff left Sarah in the jail with me and went about the town, visiting families in their homes, and spread his tale.  David and Sarah had been experimenting, and Sarah noticed that her periods had ended.  David was afraid he was a father, and decided to try to pretend to be gay to cover his tracks.  Everything else seemed to cascade off of that, with stories becoming exaggerated.  Sarah's father took it the worst, since David's father was hardly worth a dime.

"The sheriff came back around sunrise along with a judge and some papers.  Sarah was to become my wife, and the wedding present would be a dropping of all charges.  I do's were exchanged, and we were told to get the hell out of town.  That's where my daughter came from; she was born just under nine months to the day of when I had raped her mother so violently.  Sarah had smiled so beautifully when I had put our daughter to her teat for her first feeding.  I'm not sure why Sarah walked out into the path of a semi on our daughter's first birthday, but it was a scramble to get on for a while.  I really wish she had left a note behind...

"A judge girlfriend expunged the record of what happened a couple years ago, and she helps out watching her..  She's doing that now.  Well, I suppose I'd best go pack.  Thanks for just listening, and I'll get out of your sight before you throw up."  I was up and out of the chair and halfway to the door before he spoke.

"You're not fired, your resignation is not accepted," he said.  I turned and looked at him, and his eyes looked to the floor boards.  "You don't recognize me, do you?" he asked the polished wood.  

I looked at him again, my mind searching.  "I don't think so," I said, and his head turned up to look at me, and I saw it in the eyes.  "David?" I asked, shocked.  I hadn't seen him in over ten years - he had matured well.  He also had to be the youngest camp director in history.

He nodded, and walked over to his bed, and for a moment, my mind flashed to the times I enjoyed his near hairless cock, pumping the short watery bursts of cum into my mouth.  He reached into the bedside table and returned with a yellowed envelope.  "I never knew the full story until you just told me," he said, passing over the letter.  "She wrote me, once, well after you two had left town.  I am surprised that it was forwarded to me; my family had basically disowned me after the story broke.  Turned out to be the best thing that could have happened; I got a scholarship to a good school and went on to finish college by the time I turned twenty.  This will be my second summer here."

My eyes were tearing up as he spoke, focused on the return address.  My address.  Our address.  Sarah's name was on the first line.  Sarah Fastcat, the woman I had come to love.  "Much of what was in there I didn't understand," he continued into the silence.  "I do now.  She loved you, hated herself, for what happened.  I guess she assumed I would know how to contact you; I had figured that you two split up soon after you left.  It wasn't until they contacted me as part of the background check...  Well, it was somewhat easy to connect the dots, being one of the participants."

I just held the letter, tears dropping onto the aged paper.  He continued talking.  "I convinced them that anything we could do to help you and your daughter, we should do.  I didn't explain why, at first.  When details started coming back, I read them the letter over the phone, and filled in what they didn't know.  It was decided then that they'd hire you in an instant."

I looked up at David, unsure of how I felt, tears still sliding down my face.  Recounting the story had taken a lot out of me, I was numbed by all the shocks.  He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.  "I'll give you a ride back, I've a feeling that you'd like to read that alone.  If you try to commit suicide, I'll never forgive you for what happened; one loss was enough out of that disaster."

*>

The songbirds awoke me the next morning, memories of the past night were hazy.  I hadn't drank anything; the events were intoxicating enough.  I slid the letter back into the envelope, and tucked it away in a drawer.  Oddly I wondered if I should ever show it to my daughter..

After addressing the pressing needs of morning, I returned and noticed that there were new messages waiting for me. A polite thank you note for the use of the sauna/shower and hot tub from some happy councilors, a voice mail from my friend letting me know that everything was alright back at home, noting that I could call the next evening.  Ugh, I had forgotten in all that had happened, but promised myself that such a chore would not be forsaken again.

The smell of food entered the tent before David, who held a plate of breakfast and a smile.  "I wasn't sure that we'd find you among the living," he said, setting the plate down.  "Feeling any better this morning?"

"Well enough, I suppose," I replied, picking up the plate and digging in.  What does someone say to an adult that was molested as a child?

The adult, it appears, had some ideas.  "I enjoyed it," he said.  "Better than any lover I had since then, male or female."  Was it the robotic staff that was reading my mind, or the young man?  I mumbled a reply and shoveled some eggs into my mouth, still unsure what to say.

"There are some things we need to talk about," he continued.  "Some truths that need to be exposed; after you hear them, if you decide to leave, nothing will be said, and you'll have your payment for the whole summer as severance."  I looked up at that; aside from David, I had no homosexual experience and really wasn't attracted to mature members of my sex.  Yeah, for guilt, I might entertain...  David's words cut me off mid-thought.

"I'm going to be blunt and to the point," he began.  "While your crafts are nice window-dressing, the reason why you're here is because of your past.  It is rather awkward to say, but some of our campers have some rather interesting thoughts as to what the summer experience should be like, and they'll be staying here with you.  Boys who want to be molested, girls who want a 'real man' to welcome them into womanhood.  We had one last year who was bound and determined to leave camp with a baby in her womb, and tried damn hard to accomplish it."

What can someone say to such a thing?  I just stared at him, my fork halfway to my mouth.

He went on.  "We accommodate the needs of our campers here, to the best of our abilities.  One of our staff last year handled a lot of our issues, however he had a bit of a run in with the law after posting pictures of our campers online.  Thankfully, the investigation didn't go further than a shocked reaction from our camp.  Some parents were quite distressed that he would not be available this year; and we went scrambling to discover another, umm, special councilor for those particular campers.  You're it.

"We'll provide profiles of likes and dislikes; you'll be happy to find out, perhaps, that most like to limit most of their activities to oral or hand stimulation.  Some of the girls would faint at the idea of fucking a large dick whereas they would think nothing of the same spurting into their mouths.  We'll limit it so that you have no more than three visitors at a time, and that they will be compatible with each other.  The staff are almost miracle workers when it comes to such things and are rarely wrong.

"Should something go wrong, however, we'll provide whatever resources are needed to, well, run beyond the reach of the law.  The previous special councilor is enjoying a nice villa under a new name; the parents provided the financial means and expertise." 
I blinked.  I set down the fork.  My mouth formed various shapes and my throat let out a few odd noises.  David waited for me to get myself under control.  Eventually, I said, "You're fucking nuts."

"Really," he replied blandly.  "You're not my type anymore, so my nuts and where they fuck are none of your business."

I grimaced; he always was a smartass.  "You're telling me that I'm being set up as the resident child molester?"  He nodded, a bit of a sparkle of humor in his eye.  "That is insane."

"Well, you've a bit of experience, don't seem to have much trouble handling the issue, if the past is to be the judge.  You can't tell me that you haven't re-created the events we shared in your mind since then; I know you too well for that.  Sharing this palace with a few Davids shouldn't be something beyond your ability."

I looked about the lodge, considering it for a moment.  A couple horny boys...  "Look," I said, snapping out of a quickly forming pleasant fantasy, "people just don't do this."

"You did," he pointed out in a reasonable tone.  "I understand your hesitation, but these boys and girls are seeking out companionship with an adult like yourself. You're not chasing some innocent child, they are looking forward to spending time with you."

"And you know this because some computer tells you so?" I asked, goading him a bit.

"That and seeing the results of their 'matches.' Last year's crop was an eye opener.  They'll spend just their evenings with you, you'll drop them off at breakfast, and return to get them at dinner.  They'll spend the day with people their age, and their nights in your arms."  David looked about and chuckled, "in your arms in a very lovely setting.  I might reconsider testing how much things are different with my growing up, especially for time in your shower and hot tub."

The village, I realized then and there, was a fuck farm for kids.  It explained the bed arrangements and the apparent forgotten issues of privacy.  It was set up in such a way that a child could be seduced very easily; naked in an expansive shower, some booze while enjoying a hot tub under the stars, a semi private bathroom where body parts could be shown, a sleeping area in the round so that undressing would have to be done in front of others.  "Unfuckingbelievable," I stated, simply.

"Aww," replied David.  "Really, if I closed my eyes and just remembered what I was like, what you were like, I'm sure that it could be managed..."

"Smartass," I repeated.  "These kids really want this to happen?"

He nodded and sighed, deciding to find a seat.  "Yes, they do.  It's likely because of their upbringing; rich idle kids..  What would you have done when you were ten and had access to the internet on an unlimited basis?"

"Look at porn 24/7."

He laughed and nodded, "Not to mention downloading films and watching them.  They skip the rubbing and dreaming about the flat boobs on the model from the ripped page in Playboy and are watching guys shoot their loads across their partners.  Gay films seem to be out in numbers, so odds are more likely than not that the first film they'll download will be of that fashion.  I suspect that if child pornography was more available, they'd be more inclined to experiment among their own age group."

Huh.  Interesting theory.  Likely bullshit, but interesting theory none the less.  "And if there are any problems?"

"There won't be, but as I said, you're covered no matter what."

I didn't know what to say.  Hell, since Sarah died, I hadn't seen a naked child aside from my daughter.  "I'm not sure I'd be able to do it, well, right."

He shrugged, stood up, reached over into a drawer, and pulled out a remote.  A click and an LCD display popped up.  "I said he was a photographer; he also enjoyed videos as well.  Think of them as educational materials.  If you're here for lunch, I'll not bring up the topic again."

I didn't leave the village area for the rest of the day and the following afternoon.  I think I had exhausted the supply of lubricants; the images were powerful and moving.  My balls were hurting from being beyond empty.

*>

The corporate types came and went, their teams fully built.  Summer camp began and my little girl who I had not seen for more than a month finally arrived.  The staff had arranged that we'd have some time together, and the first day we were together almost constantly.  I showed her the village, which she loved, and after dinner we sat around the fire until late in the night.  She shared the living lodge with me that evening, and the next morning we had breakfast delivered.

It was a lot of fun, and it sort of made up for my long absence.  I wasn't even with her, not by a long shot, but she knew where I was, I knew where she was, and all was good again.

I drove her over to the chowhouse to meet up with her group at lunch time and was very glad that I had purchased a new wardrobe for her time at camp upon seeing her cabin mates.  The whole lot looked to be spoiled brats, to be honest, and it was the first time I really had second thoughts about being there.

Back at my lodge, there was a blinking light, letting me know I had yet another message.  It was a text mail that was simply from 'Staff' which let me know that a schedule adjustment had been made, and that I had my first guest to pick up at the dinner hour.  Attached was a full outline, describing the boy.

Thomas Mails was age 11, five foot three, 98 pounds.  Son of a movie producer, the boy had appeared in several commercials.  Blond hair that would likely go brown after the summer, brown eyes, roundish face made more round by the fashion of the week haircut. The profile went on to explain who had raised him, a letter to the camp about dietary concerns, medical information.  What it didn't explain was, well, what I was supposed to do with him.

A half hour later, another e-mail popped up from David saying a mistake had occured and that I didn't have a guest; seconds later a Staff memo appeared countering David's e-mail.  And then shortly after an e-mail from David saying that he'd be right over. 

I waited with some amusement for him to arrive, and his 'car' skidded to a halt minutes later outside the living lodge.  He entered and looked flush from either anger or excitement, I wasn't sure which.

"Hey David, need a cold one?" I offered and he agreed quickly.  I tossed him a bottle from my new stock and he pulled off the cap before I could toss him the church key.  Pretty amazing for tops that weren't twist off. "What's wrong?" I asked as I opened mine in the more conventional manner.

"I don't know why Staff has assigned the boy to you," he began, and then proceeded to guzzle half the beer, wiping the overage from his face with the back of his hand.  "You weren't supposed to have anyone for a couple weeks, to give you and your daughter some time together, plus to give you time to adjust to the camp."

Computer rebels?  Interesting.  "Perhaps Staff identified some reason for the change?"  I got up and went to the heater control, to insure that the radiant pipes hadn't frozen in the last few minutes, because I suddenly felt cold.  The temp indicator showed a comfortable 80.

"We specifically went through the list of guests to make sure that there wasn't anyone who needed your attention," he remarked, burping loudly after he finished the bottle.  "Mind if I get myself another?"

I nodded, distracted by wondering about the sudden change.  He poured himself a half hand of scotch and took a healthy gulp.  "Staff seems insistent about the matter, notifying others that I'm trying to block their assignments.  Before I had finished my e-mail to you, I had Deborah on the phone to me."

"Has this ever happened before," I wondered.

"Once," he admitted.  "Staff assigned a whole group to your predecessor, instead of the usual few.  We had gotten notification the next day that several parents of the members of the group had died in a plane accident.  They needed personal attention; not quite the usual, but more than the woman who was originally assigned could have handled.  We guess that the Staff connected the names off of a news report and made the switch at the last moment."

"His parents are fine, I take it?"

"Very, and conservative to boot," he replied, getting towards the bottom of the glass rather quickly.  He set it aside.  "I don't know what is going on, but I'd suggest just, well, taking it easy."

I nervously laughed.  "Yeah, David, I'll take it easy.  You do realize that I have no idea what exactly it is that I'm supposed to do, I mean, to go about all this.  I didn't seek you out, or Sarah for that matter."

He nodded, his color having returned.  "I wouldn't worry too much," he said and then frowned, "or I wouldn't have until now.  Your first few guests were repeat visitors.. We figured they'd, uhh, show you the ropes."

"How conservative?" I asked.

"Very," he replied with a sigh.  "Most of his productions are Christian music videos, Christmas and Easter specials, that sort of thing."  He glanced around and then stood up abruptly.  "I guess that you'll be picking him up after dinner; remember that he likes being called Thomas, not Tom or Tommy."

After David left, I sat there for a while, just wondering what it was that I was getting into for not the first time.  I was still sitting there, not having gotten very far, when the dinner hour arrived.  I drove over, ate my meal with other staff members, then went to the appointed table to pick up Thomas.

The rest of his group were larger and more assured boys, and I wondered again at the Staff decision.  The 'special' treatment of staying with me likely would cause the boy grief when he was returned the next morning.  A poor mix to begin with, made worse.  What was Staff thinking in their little electron brains?

Introductions were made; the group leader was already aware of where the boy would be staying, and took a moment to inquire as to if his reservation for the following Saturday evening was still good to go.  I distractedly nodded and collected the boy for the trip back.  He was rather quiet, didn't ask why he was sleeping somewhere else, or say much of anything.  Polite questions about his first day were met with one syllable replies.

We got to the car and I made a decision, calling after him as he went to the passenger side.  "You're going the wrong way," I said, tossing him the keys.  He came out of his shell for a moment with a smile, looking at the keys and then popped right back in with a mumbled remark that he didn't know how to drive.  "I'll give some advice, but don't listen to me too closely; it's my third car in the last couple weeks, the others are smashed up all over the place."

He laughed at the thought and started for the driver's side as I got into the passenger seat.  He hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out where to put the key, and I took the moment to explain the controls to him. "She gets up a good head of steam if you floor it, but otherwise moves a bit faster than someone can walk.  No doors, so if you screw up, we can dive for safety before you smash it up.  Go ahead, fire up the electrons and let's go."

He two footed it at first, attempting to give both of us whiplash.  Once his left foot was away from the brake peddle, he started off at a crawl.  I told him he was doing fine, and to follow the signs on the path to the village.  I was sort of babbling, I think, filling in the void of his concentration on driving.  But at least his responses were more than a single word.

We made it to the lodge, and I told him to unload his bag inside; one of the many invisibles had delivered it while we were gone.  I returned to find him sticking his pajamas into a drawer and suggested he just leave them out.  "Better than digging for them in a bit anyway when it was time to change after the shower."  He nodded and left them out, putting them on one of the smaller couches.

His first real sentence was a good question: "Where's the beds?"  I showed him how the couches unfolded into low beds, and he decided to take some time deciding on just which one he wanted.  He moved his clothes from one cabinet to another to complete the adjustment.

What to do now, I wondered.  I decided on taking him on a tour of the village, showing him some of the beadwork I was working on, how the fire ring outside was controlled, the bathrooms (which he took the opportunity of without bothering to use the curtain), the tub with the stars which he really liked, and then the shower.

The rainfall of water and steam interested him the most and he asked if he could use it.  Being that the invisibles had delivered a couple robes and some towels to the showers, I didn't see any reason to object and told him yes.  He began stripping putting his clothes away into the waterproof lockers, and I started following his example, abet more slowly.  I wasn't sure how he'd react to it, but it didn't seem to bother him and soon we were both naked.

I took the opportunity to look him over.  He had a dusting of dark hair at his groin, some speckles of the same under his arms.  I caught him out of the corner of my eye checking me out as well; something I would have done at his age as well.  Both of us were rather retracted, cock and balls, before the steam and water warmed us.  I got half hard when he started soaping up from the dispenser.

That was, truth be told, one of the downfalls of the shower.  Since water was virtually everywhere, one couldn't really get soaped up fully.  And concentrating on that fact kept myself calm.  And it worked for a few minutes, until he asked for some help getting his back scrubbed.

I puddled some soap into my hand and started to try to get it on his back, the water kept washing it away just about as fast as I applied it.  He asked, after I kept trying, if there was a pause button on the shower.  "I guess," I said.  "Just push the shower button, that'll turn it off."  I had always just went from shower to dry, but he had a good idea.  Perhaps I won't have to continue using the basin in the bathroom to actually scrub my hair.

He hit the button and returned, presenting his backside for scrubbing.  I applied some more soap to my hand and then started rubbing it in, turning it more into a massage as he made small noises of pleasure.  He had very clean shoulders by the time he moved forward, with a small sigh.  "I'll wash off then do you," he said.  My half hardness returned; the last two words interested my cock, especially coming from someone with a soapy backside.

The steam rebillowed as the water started raining down again, and I was happy that it somewhat covered me.  But all too quickly he had shed the soap and was shutting off the shower again to handle my back.  As his hands brought the slightly cold soap onto my back, I marveled at their dexterity and strength.  He really worked my back over, and I leaned forward a bit to lower my shoulders to get similar attention.  My soapy rump contacted his groin, but his fingers didn't stop.  He instead moved closer to reach my shoulders, and started rubbing in the soap.

His hardness as he slipped into my crack surprised me, but I made no movement to discourage it.  My own dick had gotten instantly hard as well, and I made some purring noises has he bounced on the balls of his feet, reaching the tops of the shoulders, grinding himself against my rump.

A minute or so of this, and then he moved off, pushing the button to start the shower again.  I hadn't noticed before, but he was uncircumcised, something that I had never really seen before in real life.  The skin was long at the end, making almost a cone atop his penis, making the whole length maybe four inches.  It was the right scale to his body.  The balls weren't, it looked like he had a pair of golf balls slung under his dick, and when he was pushing the button, I watched in amazement as they rolled in the sack.

I thanked him for the scrub down, not covering up my own hardness, and he cheerfully said welcome.  We both quieted down, physically, as the steam and rain did their work, and it was with some regret that I went over to the panel to dry out the pair of waterlogged prunes we were swiftly becoming.  The currents of hot air started running around the lodge, drying the skin in just a couple minutes.  I didn't feel like staying in until my hair was dry, and he was looking a bit bored himself.

I tossed him a robe and a towel; not that the towel was really needed.  He donned the robe and loosely crossed the ties, I did the same, and we wandered out.

"Can we use the hot tub now?" he asked, looking longingly at the lodge.  I chuckled and said sure, but I'd have to stop by the bathroom first, if he wanted to run ahead.  "I could use a piss too," he admitted, grinning at his own language.  I didn't bother to try to correct him.  We urinated into separate toilets and met back at the basin, washing our hands and then went over to the tub.

When we got inside, I tossed my robe up on to the hook by the flap and asked if he wanted something to drink.  I knew I did.  He gave me a sheepish grin and said he wanted a rum and coke and I admit I just gaped at him.  "If you got it," he amended, before climbing up and into the water, giving me a nice show in the process.

"A bit young for such drinks, don't you think?" I asked him, curious as to his response.

"Old enough," he replied, leaning back in the water, "to know that it quiets me down.  If you'd rather just make it a coke, that's fine, just don't complain when I'm bouncing on the bed in a few hours."

I chuckled and said that perhaps some bottled water would do better and he made a sour face.  I shrugged and fixed him the rum and coke with just a brief splash of booze, giving myself one as well.  Hadn't had one in a while.  I lifted a leg and sat on the edge of the tub, offering his glass over to him.  He took it, gulped a sip, and then put it in the cup holder, sighing.  I took a sip as well, and then set mine next to his, and finished moving into the tub.

After a couple minutes of soaking in the heat, he asked if I could turn on those stars and something to listen to, and I readily agreed, always happy to show off the creations of others, or as I like to think of it, my domain.  I hung over the edge and fiddled with the controls, then returned to the water, taking another sip of my drink.  Damn, the rum must have sunk to the bottom, as it was more mild than my first sip.

Thomas was making good headway into his drink, and the music started to swell.  Robbie Robertson really made the stars dance well, if I say so myself.  I sucked through some more coke, swirling my glass to try to get the rum to move back upwards.  He finished off his cup with a smacking of lips.  I chuckled as he suggested that he get his own refill, and I took a healthy slug of my drink.  Damn, next time I'm adding more booze to mine, I thought to myself as I got out and refreshed mine, and fixed him a more mild one than the first.  Kids throwing up was one thing I didn't want to even come close to imagining.

I got back in, passed over his, and took a sip of mine.  Ahh, much better, can taste the rum now.  We chatted for a few minutes about his day and the player swayed into the one track on the album I really didn't like.  He asked me if we could skip this song, and I agreed.  I heard loud sipping noises and a 'ahh' as he dipped some more into his mostly coke.  Music fixed, I returned to the tub.

We both tried to reach for the cups at the same time and got tangled up a bit, mine spilling over the edge onto the floor.  I sighed, thinking that there was some conspiracy to keep me from my booze and crawled out of the hot water. The stones were set up much the same as the shower, and the water dripping off of me was enough to wash the stickiness away.  I decided to try another drink and proceeded to make myself a grasshopper.

Thomas perked up at the strange green beverage and he started bugging me for a sip.  At least he was making his drink last a bit longer this time, though he was more than half way through it.  I relented and let him have a sip and his mouth made an O of surprise.  They really are yummy.  "No, you can't have one," I said, to forestall the upcoming request.

He denied that he was interested.  "It's nice, but that after the cokes would knock me on my back."  Huh.  Well, he's a shrimp, so perhaps that splash and a half of rum was really a lot for him.

"So," I asked, settling back into the water, "where did you pick up on rum and coke at your age?"

He finished off what was left of his glass and leaned back onto the headrest.  "From my dad..  He'd have me make them for him all the time, and sometimes he'd let me have one.  Wow, I'm feelin' kind of dizzy."

"Sorry, squirt," I said.  "I didn't think I put all that much in your drinks."

He laughed, a little too hard, and slipped under the water.  Coming back up for air, he was still laughing.  "You didn't," he replied, sticking his tongue out at me.

Ahh shit.  "You switched drinks on me," I said and he nodded a bit longer than needed.  "Why," I asked, puzzled.

"'cause you wouldn't let me have enough to get relaxed," he replied, his words slightly slurred.  "And I needed to be relaxed."  Ahh hell, I wonder if anyone ever got fired for getting a kid drunk and then I realized what my position was, and considered if anyone would even think a second on the matter.

"You're going to have a mother of a headache in the morning," I muttered, half hoping that it taught him a lesson and he started giggling.

"Nuh-uh," he replied.  "The hot tub will boil some of it out of me, and I'm gonna drink lots of water to make sure I don't de-high-drate.  Plus you're gonna give me a couple aspirins or something to get ahead of the game," he insisted.

"Had hangovers before?" I asked, rather curious and starting to become amused.  He was a friendly drunk.

He nodded, "Southern Comfort," he said with a grimace, and I gave one myself.  Evil hangovers from that stuff.

"Starting on that stuff a bit early, aren't you?" I asked with a bit of a chuckle.

He shrugged his shoulders with exaggeration.  "Nahh, I don't do it much..  Bad for you, stunts your growth, don'tsha know."  I chuckled at that.  "'sides, I kinda like you, and I got scared that you were mad at me when I was washin' your backsides, until I saw ya when I went to push da button.  You gotta nice sized one," he observed.

"Yours is nothing to be ashamed of," I admitted between sips.

"Ya think?" he asked, splashing around a bit as he tried to stand up on the slippery seat.  His hard cock came out of the water, drops falling off of the skin flap hanging off the end.  He leaned up against the edge and stared down at his member, a hand reaching out to pull back on the skin to expose the purple-red head.  "I like your look better," he decided, sliding the skin back and forth.  "Seems cleaner.. Err, smootherer."  He grinned sheepishly at his invented words, and his hand was still masturbating himself.

I set down my glass and slid up to sit on the edge as well, my own penis having awoken at his display.  "I donno," I said, reaching down to move it around a bit.  "Some skin at the end would be nice sometimes, make underwear more comfortable on hot days." 

He shrugged and reached over with his other hand to run along the top side of my dick.  "Yer really hard," he observed, his other hand still rhythmically moving up and down.  "I can feel your heartbeat," he noted with some mild surprise.

"Easier to feel such things on another person," I observed.  I looked over at the hand that was moving faster.  "I don't think that the camp would appreciate you jacking off into the tub."

He laughed.  "Well, tissues would be messy..  Wet and all," he replied.  "So either get a towel, or open your mouth."

Now that was a bit more unexpected and I chalked it up to the booze talking.  But, well, I was really curious as to the boy's flavor, and ten years was a long time ago.  And wasn't that why I was here at camp anyways?  I moved off the edge and floated to between his legs, opening my mouth like a target.  His grin grew, and his hand started moving a bit quicker.  A drop of something I hoped wasn't water formed at the end, and I licked it off with the tip of my tongue.  He breathed in sharp at the touch, his hips shoved forward, and the first taste of the boy's pre-cum was instantly replaced by hard spurts of his watery cum. It was accompanied by more than a few heavy grunts.

It also tasted wonderful.

He slipped back into the water, and tossed a leg over me, hugging me chest to chest.  I felt a couple more shudders as aftershocks came and went and finally he dragged out a deep breath.  A rum soaked deep breath. "Thank you," he said into my shoulder, and I just rubbed his back.  His butt was right up against my own hard on, and even though he just shot off, his cock was still hard against my belly.

"You're welcome," I replied warmly.  Damn this one will turn out to be a handful, I was sure.

A few minutes passed, me just hugging, him just hugging, both of us hard as rocks.  After a bit, he started to wiggle a bit, and I suggested that if he was able to walk, we'd better retire to the sleeping lodge.  He nodded and crawled off of me, got up on the edge, and swung over onto the rocks.  I followed with a bit more coordination.  His eyes locked on my bobbing hard on and his mouth opened slightly.  I just went and put on my robe, offering his to him.  That, and the covering of my body, seemed to bring him back to the moment.

"I wanna sit by the fire pit for a while," he said.

And I want to go haul you into my bed and see if I can make you bounce off the ceiling, I thought, but instead noted that he couldn't sit out there by himself.  He laughed and said 'course not, and that he wanted to sit there with me.  So we ended up going out into the cool night, flipping the switch, and enjoying music and fire beneath the dark sky.  I really did love the glade; without being outright private, it was private.  I could have dozens of kids dancing around naked and no one would be the wiser unless they happened by.

So I didn't react poorly when his small hand went exploring my body, hand rubbing from neck down to groin, tracing veins on my cock, running along my piss slit, cupping my heavy balls.  He did all this while staring into the flames, and then he started talking.

**> End of Part Two <**
