The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in any state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
Following, pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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^o^ Concluding remarks ~ reading this story could make you stiff or gooey, so I would suggest not reading it at work... just sayin'! :)
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Giv2GeT 01
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"So, you're really serious about paying out all that money to sleep away at a Boy Scout Camp for a month, LL?"
"I am. That is, if you ever give me a chance to finish signing these contracts and getting them in the mail, `Sy!'"
"Well!" LL's business partner gasps out in disgust, that `he' should ever be the focal point of being a thorn in someone's side!
"Get over it, Sy," the 30-year old CEO caps his pen, "and I hope you have some serious thought to how you're going to run the company for a month, without me?" he rustles all the papers together and slips them in an envelope.
"Piece of cake," Sy replies.
LL hasn't a doubt Sy can run the show. Graduating from high school the same year, going their separate ways, a year later Sy had transferred to the college LL was in the process of achieving a business degree. Rooming together, it was like day and night. Whereas LL was a nitpicking, clean person, Sy was a slob.
"Piece of cake? Like you mean how you kept our apartment clean for 4 years, Sy?"
"Okay, so I was a little sloppy. Trust me, I've changed," Sy assures him.
"Oh you mean you broke down and gave the college guy who lives on your block some simple tasks to do, like vacuuming, dusting, taking out your laundry and..."
"How did you find out about that?" Sy squints his eyes.
"When I stopped to pick up the contracts you left in your door, which wasn't there by the way, this angel of a darling opens the door and personally `hands' me the contracts."
"So?"
"What a talkative person!" LL exclaims, laughing.
"I suppose he told you everything?"
"Oh, little tidbitty stuff, like how much easier it is earning money for sex, rather than performing physical duties?"
Sy got a little hot under the collar, "Like... what else?"
"Things I don't think your girlfriend would be happy knowing, though I'm sure she already knows how small a peahole your ass is. At least Jose thought so!"
"Okay, so Jose fucks me. Just don't mention it to anyone else!" Sy replies, confident it will go no further.
"Sure, no problem, Sy, as long as you pay me to keep my mouth shut!"
"What tha fuck? What ever happened to us being `brothers', bro?"
"I'm just pulling your chain, though when I get back you're going to have to interview for a new housekeeper. I stole yours!"
They could never get mad at each other, Sy resorting to scrunching up his face and sticking his tongue out, lying, "Wait till you get that tiny little stick up your ass... you'll be sorry!"
After Sy left, it made LL smile, thinking of Sy's little lie about something so big! It more or less sealed the deal, LL thinking about how nice it will be, creating the position of secretary to the CEO, himself, having Jose available at beck and call. Of course, doing the laundry would be optional.
Falling into a dreamlike state, his phone rings. Picking it up, on the other end is the security guard down in the lobby, alerting him to his taxi waiting.
Scurrying about, LL grabs the last of his luggage, a small satchel, the rest of it down in the lobby.
Elevator dropping 5 floors, LL makes his exit, entering the glassy lobby.
"Have everything all packed, Mr. Justice."
"Awesome! Thanks, Bryan," he greets the security guard, walking right past his little station.
"Have a nice time... we won't miss you!" Bryan chuckles!
Such was their relationship, LL sticks up his middle finger, walking by. Once out of the sliding glass doors, he looks upon the van ordered up, the name painted on the side making him exclaim, "Camp Rufghup here I come!"
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A month ago, the staff at Camp Rufghup had sat down and as they have done for the past several seasons, which occurred every summer for either the 4 week or 8 week session.
As a board of a corporation would meet, they sat at a long table. However, instead of a find mahogany finish, two tables were butted end to end as they meet in the camp mess hall.
At the head of the table sat the camp director, Edward Farley, better known as plain ole `Ed'. Age thirty-six, he stood at 6' tall, average build, leaning towards the description of a cub. Auburn hair, it covered his chest, then zipped down and fanned out over his stomach.
Since it was hot as hell that last week of June, the others had followed Ed's lead and as they entered the mess hall which lacked air-conditioning, began stripping off their shirts as well. Some even found it more comfortable unfastening, unzipping the top of their pants, once they got seated.
Getting down to business, because as they all knew, Ed Farley could be as tame as a turtle, but going against him would be a grave error. Not that he was really a violent man, but powerful within the structure of the camp, a wave of his arm or a slight bend in his finger, could expel a member of the staff. It's one person you didn't go up against, `Ed Farley'.
Starting right out with business at hand, Ed says, "Now it's not that this has not happened before, someone slipping through the screening process, but we have 2 clients which do not fit in the mold of Camp Rufghup."
They were all rough types, but Declan Rodgers stood out as someone, to look at him, he could kill you with the daggers in his eyes, "Fuck it, as long as you don't assign them to me!"
This was an anniversary year for him, the big 10, having attended Camp Rufghup as a client, sent there for rehabilitation. Now, at 27-years old, he knew all the ins and outs of the camp, including rules and how to treat the client, depending on the itinerary. Right now he commanded attention, sitting there with his arms up and behind his head, touching his shoulders, flexing his swimmer's build of a bod, stretching every muscle of that auburn-colored chest.
Ed's attention was on Dwight Diggles. Longer than Declan as far as employees longevity goes, at 38-years old, he's been connected with Camp Rufghup since its inception. Originally, Dwight's father owned the land the camp is built on. Included in the deal was a swap out for an access road, running through the property Dwight's father did not annex with the original contract. In return, the condition set forth, his son would be hired once the camp was up and running. With no college education, only a few courses in psychology at an online university, Dwight managed to sell himself as a valuable employee.
However, he did on occasion make an error in judgement, like this year, accidentally thinking a client, looking for an environment which could boost his warrior training, sought out Camp Rufghup, Ed says, "Not to mention any names..."
Even though Ed ceased his eye contact with Dwight, everyone looked in his direction. They knew!
"Oh c'mon guys," Dwight tried mending things.
Declan, in his rough voice, which was not acting, belches, "I better not get some old fucker. I want a nice young boy and..."
Even though he held their attention now, making Dwight a little nervous, Ed, who could rise above any of their attitudes, puts Declan in his place, "Are you threatening Dwight, Declan?"
He backed down a little, but just a little, admitting, "No. I'm just saying."
"Besides," Ed gets up, walks around the table, past Orrin, Pete, Nick and Ivan, stands right behind Declan's chair, "those two little problem clients have been taken care of..."
As he said it, placing both hands on Declan's shoulder, an act to calm the man, who never loses control, nonetheless, since the muscled counselor had unwoven his hands from behind his head, Ed figured it would be a good gesture for everyone, to know he was still the focal point of rule at Camp Rufghup.
Right now, no one around the table was in command of the situation, after hearing the door back loudly, smash against the wall and a voice bellowing out, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything? Had trouble getting a taxi from the airport," he walks in, carrying two parcels of suitcases under each arms, hands holding the balance.
Pete Frye says to his peers, "I guess Santy Claus decided not to wait till Christmas to bring my present!"
Still eyes on the 6' stranger, 27-year old Avery Taylor says, "He was left in your stocking by mistake, `Fireman'!"
He meant Peter. Peter got his name from liking to `play with fire', which so far he's never gotten burned.
None of them made a move, Ed loosening his grip on Declan's shoulders and placing his hand out in front of him, "You must be Thomas Achille?"
"Tom," Thomas accepted the handshake.
"Drop your gear here and come and join us. We're about to get started," Ed invites Thomas over to the table.
Many eyes were on Thomas. The closer he got, the more some felt their balls throb.
"Guys, this is Thomas Achille, who will be paired up with one of those little `errs'," Ed again makes contact with Dwight.
Not everyone in the room got along with everyone else, Orrin Masters speaking up, "Why don't we discipline him like any other bender of the law?"
Dwight, with Ed there, wasn't afraid to react with negativity, "Why don't you go fuck yourself, Orrin!"
Orrin just smiled. In his own mind he figured it was only a matter of time, before the agreement between Dwight's daddy ran out and Camp Rufghup would be an independent entity. Giving Dwight the finger, sitting back and smiling was enough revenge.
In the mean time, Ed had already began talking up Thomas Achille, and as first order of business, "Thomas comes to us highly recommended..." he goes over the credentials presented to him by Thomas former employer, which, unknown to Ed, Thomas had paid the person to fudge all the details.
A year ago, the tall Greek had been laid off from his job, low man on the totem pole over at the porn studio. In order to not have his bank account run on empty, Thomas chose to take any job, with decent pay, as his next line of work.
As Ed was now spewing out for his staff members benefit, again referred to that `error', "...And as we have a client attending Camp Rufghup, with intentions of attending instruction and agility for his next Warrior event, Thomas, who is well equipped with expertise, will be working with," he leans over to refresh his memory on the client, "a Mr. Leon Lloyd Justice."
Right off, knowing what they do, vs. warrior training, "Warrior training?" Orrin laughs his ass off, "Why, you don't know the fun you'll be missing!"
Nick Scorpos, a veteran at Camp Rufghup, very well knew what Orrin meant as `fun', saying, "How many times did your boy report to the infirmary last season, Orrin?"
"Shut the fuck up and mind your own business, Scorp?"
Ed cuts them both off, "Both of ya's shut tha fuck up or I'll take you out back!"
He wasn't a big, bold, hulk of a man, but he wielded the scepter of power in his hand and they knew their jobs hung in the balance of doing the right thing. Sure, they had their freedom, but also a huge responsibility.
After he sat down, the only seat left, wooden chair at the other end of the doubled picnic sized table, Thomas stood up, which made a disturbing creek, apologizing, "Sorry," he starts unbuttoning his shirt, "it is a little warm in here, if you don't mind?"
No. None of them minded one bit. It would be worth stopping the world turn, watching Thomas open a path between his shirt and peel it off behind his shoulders.
"Yummy!" Billy Greer softly responds to the unveiling of the Greek's bod, dark brown hair from the base of the neck, running down along the peclines as it's cut off, a thick trail cutting the taut abs in half, and then without allowing his navel to stop it's progression, the trail runs right down and stops dead at the belt.
Normally, the 26-year old cowboy liked to lie there and have someone tongue-worship his worked bod. Then again, when faced with a man with such lush bod hair, he could only lick his lips, wondering how it all tasted. One drawback, kind of a `fetish' he called it, he liked licking out a shallow navel, not one which looked like a deep tunnel. Still, he smiled, cocking one eye, snickering at all that hot fur going to waste.
"All hands on deck!" Ed joked, but meant for business to reconvene.
Those who were fiddlin' with their privates knew who they were, bringing their hands back to their pencils and criteria.
The only thing not included on their sheets were their assigned `clients'. It sounded like a very important person, like how business would pass through hands of the wealthy, but for those entering the camp gates, for them it would be no picnic.
"Declan," Ed tosses a picture down the middle of the table, with a sheet paper-clipped to it, "your assignment will be Zack Black. To sum it up; rich kid, unruly, into drugs, alcohol and partying, arrested twice this year. Parents have no clue how to handle him. Your job is to turn him around."
Looking at Zack, Declan smiles. First thing to hit him is the face, one showing attitude. Secondly, the pose, in a barn with a cowboy hat on, the shirt is parted down the middle, which provokes him to say, "Looks like a goddam porn star!"
They all laugh, which at first startles Thomas. Figuring he better join in, he laughs at Declan's joke!
Ed keeps informing, "Apparently," he reads some sketchy details, "Zack is not responding to parental control and rather than send him off to some correctional facility, his father is footing the bill for his rehabilitation."
Still smiling, especially after reading he's not getting some `older' client, like Thomas is, but a 19-year old, he says, "No problem in breaking this one!"
Nick, who really can be considered Ed's right hand man, cautions, "Just act civilized?"
Declan coolly replies, "No less than anyone else sitting at this table!" he laughs.
It's true. Some of the other counselors at the table could not make comment the way Nick does....
"Ivan, your assignment is 21-year old Gregg Harmon, former soldier..."
"Hot diggity!" Ivan calls out, a little of his Russian accent showing through.
"Can we get through this without anymore disturbances or we'll be here all afternoon?" Ed complains.
However, Ivan did have something moot to be riled up about. There in the picture was Gregg, shirtless, but carrying some army gear and his helmet. Some nice dark brown fur, fanning out over his chest, a stripe down the middle, it was also the chiseled abs which helped Ivan start develop a hardon, just by looking.
"As you can see from the dossier, returning home, he has," Ed rushes it, "not been welcomed, after coming out, which results in a fist fight and because the Harmon family is loaded, the incident goes without charges being pressed, under condition Gregg seeks help."
"And the help he shall get," Ivan sits back, folding his hands on the table, as if he had eaten a 10-course dinner.
"Moving along.."
Moving along, Ed pairs up 20-year old Scott Tanner with Guy Weck. Like the others, he's had a family falling out, a family well endowed with money, the involvement of drugs and alcohol and an over-bearing father, which can bring the worst out in a person.
He's seen it over and over, but there are also other cases, like 19-year old Michael Gooding, who just can't get along with his step-father, because it's not his real father. Divorce can make a kid crazy, when one parent stays and the other has to move on. Michael who adores his bio father, was distraught over the divorce decree, when he was awarded to his fucked-up mother. Kind of a shy guy, he didn't act that way whenever a confrontation arose with his step-father. The last straw came when Michael, not a vicious person by nature, told his step-father if he ever touched him again he would kill him!
"So, Nick, you have your work cut out for you."
Looking at the picture, with his Texan accent, Nick says, "He don't look like no killer!"
Amazing, Nick thought, looking over Michael's picture. No less handsome than the most sought after Hollywood actor, he loved the look of the sagging camo pants, shoestring tied. "Must've been on the way to school," Nick says, even though Michael didn't have a shirt on, but did sport a back pack.
After looking at Michael's picture, over Nick's arm, Peter Frye asks, "Got a hot one for me?" he giggles.
He was next in line, Ed having arranged the pile right before the meeting started, "You're gonna love this one, Pete, Chad Perry, who has a list of infractions as long as my arm. Apparently, the 21-year old has been `asked' to leave two different colleges on account of his lewd acts in the dorms, has been accused of bullying fellow students and one professor and..."
"That's enough for me to go on. I'll figure out the rest for myself!"
The only picture they could secure was not a family one, but of Chad with two other dorm buddies, hanging out nude. It was reported they were nude, but could not be verified because the picture was cut off right at the top of Chad's pubes. A hand to his mouth shows him guzzling a silver flask of alcohol, probably whiskey, his breath often smelling of it, as was reported by the parents.
"Again, like the others, there is total lack of respect where the family is concerned."
It didn't phase Peter any, looking at Chad's bod. One of his favorite activities was keeping his boy free of hair. He smiled thinking of Chad's initial reaction when he buzzcuts off all those curly locks. Of the massive chest and stomach hair, he knows how a man feels when the trail down the middle disappears, like part of his manhood is taken from him. Too, he's not into the convenient, drugstore method of using shaving cream and razors. He prefers the more entertaining method, hot wax and tearing it off!
"Billy, Giuseppe Malta's family decided to evade the law when their 22-year old decided to get rich quick and steal off the top of their restaurant's receipts and pocket the money for himself. It says here," Ed tried to get the gist of it, "Seppe," he stutters, "I guess they call him Seppe, also allows his friends to dine for free. Even with strict discipline," Ed reads it plain and quick, "they cannot control him. End of story," he tosses Seppe's picture and itinerary down the middle of the table.
Poor Thomas. At the other end of the table, he couldn't see the hot shots sailing by!
Rushing through the rest, Gabe Lowe, a 38-year old man, who also is friends with the sheriff of his town, opted out of jail time, or even having the paperwork filed, for physically and sexually abusing his teenaged son. "His friend-the-sheriff is hoping we can do something to help him. I'm assigning Vincenzo to his case."
"I object!" Vincenzo jumps out of his seat.
Standing to meet the Italian's height, Ed folds his arms across his middle, "Like the fuck I care? Sit down, Vincenzo!"
"It's not fair. Why don't I have young ward?"
"What's the matter Vincenzo? Don't like your job anymore?"
Vincenzo sat. He had to out of fear of losing the best job he has ever worked. Where else could someone cross the threshhold of reality vs. fantasy and live it out?
However, age can be a deceiver, as he looks at the picture of Gabe, "Keeps in shape," he says, looking at the slight sixpack, the apparent shaved-to-perfection treasure trail and gap between bellyhole and chest, a light covering pec to pec. He was a little disappointed over the fact Gabe was looking down, but he wondered if it was out of shame or maybe he was checking out his own big cock?
Right on down the table, Avery Taylor was matched up with Richard Smith, with no qualms whatsoever.
"Fuckin' hot!" the 27-year old counselor remarks.
It must've been a gym picture, Richard standing in front of some bleachers. His shirt was stripped and hanging around his neck. A light covering of bod hair extended down to his pubes. Yeah, his pubes, because apparently Richard wasn't wearing any briefs, nor a belt. The button of his jeans was unfastened and sagged, so the dark brown, bushy pubes could be seen. He was also nicely built!
Ross Soper was teamed up with Jeff Laird. Not much on his itinerary sheet, Jeff's only offense seemed to be his tough-guy attitude.
Uncomplaining when he looked upon Jeff's picture, taken near some boating activity, the 6' 22-year old was mostly smooth, except for the chiseled treasure trail. Ross was already conjuring up some quality activities in order to help Jeff turn his life around!
Joseph Walsh was the oldest of the counselors and though he hasn't had many years at the camp under his belt, he has had several different experiences helping teens. Eddie Raleigh would be a challenge for him, because Eddie is not a teenager, but 25-years old. Joseph's technique involves the integration of leather and psychology. He is also drawn to Eddie's picture. Not crazy about the long locks, wet stringy, an obvious result of the picture of Eddie working out with boxing gloves, he admires the great shape he keeps himself in. Chiseled sixpack and solid pecs, the other thing that catches his interest is what's showing when the jock pants are pulled in a certain way!
This was one case Ed could not work his way around. He owed a friend. The friend's brother, who worked at a boy's school, a history teacher, was about to lose his job if he didn't turn his attitude around.
He informs Arch Geller, "I know you're training Wayne, Arch, and would love to have a younger subject to work with, but..."
Already Arch and Wayne Haskill are conferring over the candidate in the picture, Wayne being the catalyst, softly telling Arch, "Mm-mm, hot bear!"
True to Wayne's assumption, there stands Ben Harris, a bold chest sporting a mass of hair, two hot pink, perky nips showing through, and taut stomach, with a deep bellyhole. The photo is kind of weird, because it looks like Ben is winking through his glasses, like he's sending a sexual message!
Then, coming around in full circle, Ed returns to, "And all of you can look at this as `punishment' for Dwight..."
Dwight looks up with a frowned face.
"I could have bestowed this man on any one of you and," joking, "I expect everyone of you to lick my feet tonight," Ed laughs, "Dwight will be working on one our cases which have slipped through our strict interview protocol, 52-year old Cyril Bouchiere, who's only desire is to feed his masochistic appetite.
The rest might have been repulsed by the salt and pepper man, stripped from the waist up, arms above his head and wrists chained, but the biggest fail' was Dwight looking at the picture, trying to figure out the face underneath the leather cap. Reading further, as the others gathered themselves up, compared notes and headed towards the counter of cold beer, Dwight could only hold the paper, his other hand occupied as he read, Into almost anything, but especially: whipping, cbt, tt, fisting, bondage, discipline, rough sex - not in any special order!'
Surprised by Ed's voice, Dwight looks up, "I didn't want to mention it to the group, but I thought him too fucking hot `not' accept his application. Let me know if you need any help controlling him!"
He knew what Ed's wink meant.
Suddenly he had an urgent desire to get back to his cabin!
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Copyright 2013 T. Chase McPhee
`Giv2GeT', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.