Camp Lookout 2

This story is adult fiction with homoerotic episodes. If you are a minor or are likely to be offended, please read no further. If you are reading further, please consider a donation to nifty.org to help keep this service free and available to all.

Comments and criticisms are encouraged. Please write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com.

CAMP LOOKOUT

by Macout Mann

II

Some boys are driven to camp by their parents, even from hundreds of miles away. They'll start arriving about nine, check in at the administration building, meet their counsellors and kiss their folks goodbye before being escorted to their cabins.

Some campers arrive by air. Most at Birmingham, some at Chattanooga. Chartered busses will bring these to the camp late Saturday afternoon. Kids that fly are all scheduled to arrive on Saturday, because that's when more flights are scheduled.

Most kids come by Greyhound and arrive at Ft. Payne. Each schedule is met by the camp bus, a school-bus type conveyance painted white with "Camp Lookout" in small letters on each side. So six times on Saturday and six times on Sunday ten to fifty kids are dumped at the administration building to be processed.

By sundown Sunday all hundred and eighty campers will have arrived.

All weekend returning campers renew friendships and acquaintances. Older boys at camp for the first time get their bearings and are sized up by their fellows. Some manage to make friendships straight away. Counsellors in the younger boys' cabins are prepared for chronic cases of homesickness for the first couple of nights. An occasional twelve or thirteen year old away from home for the first time may also become homesick, but older teens are almost always able to cover up their feelings.

At Sunday Supper, Malcolm officially opens the session. He welcomes everybody and assures them that their counsellors are there to take care of any problems they may have, and that he and Mr. Huff are always there to help. He stresses that not everybody is an Olympic athlete, and that everyone is expected to help the less proficient become more so. That teasing and bullying will not be tolerated. And that he knows that each camper will have a session crammed with fun.

Back in their cabins counsellors are expected to do their own welcoming bit, remind everybody what the rules are, and indoctrinate the newbies.

Choctaws and Chickasaws almost never have newbies. This year Winston does have one, Chuck, who applied with the stipulation that he be in the same cabin (Choctaw) as his best friend. Malcolm made inquiries and determined that the applicant did meet the requirements to become a Choctaw. Winston has already meet privately with him and his friend to make sure they both understand the rules. So Winston's official meeting with his charges is short and sweet.

He summarizes what his campers already know, then adds, "I know all of you, except Chuck here, have qualified in the individual sports you participate in. If you want to upgrade your qualifications, tomorrow morning is the time to do it. I'll be tied up at the lake doing the swimming tests; so if any of you have any problems, get with Chester. He'll see things get worked out. And let me remind you sixteen-year-olds: We have three Water Safety Instructors on staff. If any of you want to get your senior lifesaving badge, we'll set up a class so you can do that.

"And let me remind all of you: We don't give a shit what you do here in the cabin as long as you're quiet about it and as long as each of you is comfortable with what you are doing; but no fun and games outside the cabin and no public nudity anywhere in the camp. Is that perfectly clear?"

There is a chorus of yesses.

"O.K. Let's all hit the sack."

In the counsellors' room Winston and Chester are joined by Eric Cranston. Eric is sixteen, one of three boys at camp who are signed up for the full twelve weeks.

Eric says the reason his folks let him stay the full time is that at camp he can't embarrass them. If he were to stay in Tucson, he'd be sure to get into trouble. The first two years he came for a four week session. He loved summers in the Appalachians away from the heat of the desert, and when he was twelve convinced his parents to let him come for six weeks. The following year his father discovered him and a neighbor sucking each other. So ever since then he has flown to Atlanta, then back to Birmingham, taken the charter to camp and spent the full twelve weeks on Lookout Mountain. Since becoming a Choctaw he has had the pleasure of having sex with over fifty guys and sometimes both counsellors each summer.

He's strikingly handsome, a blond Anglo from Arizona, about 5'11" with a high forehead, square jaw, and t-shaped bod. He wastes no time in giving both older guys the relief they need, then slips back into the darkened barracks-like bunk room. He knows that there will be at least one of the seventeen remaining boys that will not yet have a partner for the night, so he will easily get the relief he needs in his mouth or ass.

Mark Tidwell is fourteen. Small for his age. This is his second year at camp, so he was not surprised to be "the last one chosen." His only experience has been with his brother who has just finished his freshman year at Georgia Tech.

When Eric crawls into his bunk with him, Mark can barely see who it is by the glow of the three watt nightlight over by the john. He is truly shocked.

"Eric Cranston?" he whispers.

"Yeah, kid. Who're you?"

"Mark. Mark Tidwell."

Eric pulls the younger boy close to his naked body and guides Mark's hand to his raging hardon. "You ever been fucked, Mark?" he asks.

"N...no, just sucking and being sucked."

"Well, I'll let one of the boys with a smaller dick take your cherry. Don't want to hurt you too much. But I need to get off. Bad.

"Eat me, boy!"

Mark does as he is told. Eric was big, but no bigger than Mark's brother. He takes Eric's dong into his willing mouth and feels it plunge all the way into his throat.

"That's the way!" Eric whispers. "Suck that motherfucker good!"

Eric laughs to himself, wondering why everyone is whispering, when the sounds of sex can be heard all around them. "Well, Winston did say to be quiet about it," he thinks.

Mark takes the whole length of Eric's pole, using his tongue on each plunge to enhance the pleasure he is giving the older boy. "Oh yeah, suck me, baby," Eric moans. "I aint cum all day."

Mark speeds up his ministrations. He feels Eric's shaft twitch. He takes a massive load down his fourteen-year-old throat, as Eric fights the urge to yell out.

"Oh, that was so good," Eric pants. "After that, I gotta do you."

Eric takes Mark's four and a half inches into his mouth. He hadn't intended to do anything but get blowed, but he sucks for all he's worth and in no time tastes the younger boy's hot cum.

They cuddle.

"Eric," Mark whispers just before he falls asleep, "I want it to be you that pops my cherry."

"I just love virgin ass," the older boy responds. "Maybe tomorrow."

Meanwhile, across the compound at the Seminole Cabin, a sleepless twelve-year-old is in its counsellors' room in an earnest conversation with the junior counsellor, Ron Baxter.

"I'm going home tomorrow."

"You can do that. But why did you come in the first place?"

"All my friends were going to camps. I thought it'd be cool."

"So now you're here you miss being home and you don't think it's cool."

"I dunno. I just want to go home."

"Man, I've been where you are. But tomorrow morning, the sun's goanna be shining, and the lake's goanna look like a fun place to be, and some guy you've never noticed is goanna seem like somebody you want to know. And it's all goanna seem different.

"But you can still leave, if you wanna."

Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.