Dear Nifty...the story that follows is additional data from my journals of some adventures at Graduation from High School with some of my friends. We graduated on a Thursday night so many years ago...and left the next morning for a week end Memorial Day camp out.
THE GRADUATION CANOEING & CAMPING TRIP By Dr. Ben Ezra Jacobson, PHD, - Literature
I was reading in some of my old journals the other day in which I recorded the events of graduation from high school. My class was about three hundred students and we were all chomping at the bit to wrap it up and to get on with life. There were a lot of parties here, there and yonder...but I went camping and canoeing with my best friend Greg Whitacre and our mutual friends, Jim and Joe Baynebridge, a pair of red haired twin hotties, with whom we had been long time companions.
We started planning this graduation trip several months before the eventful day. It was suggested that it might be prudent to stay close to home over traveling many hundreds of miles to an exotic destination. We settled on an Illinois river spelled Embarrass and pronounced "M-bra"...and planned on camping at a small state park below the dam called FOXRIDGE. The canoe trip down the river would be about twenty or so miles. The river was still, with an ever so slight current. It was popular with the University students near by for floating on inner tubes from the old iron bridge upstream down to the lake below.
On the Friday morning after graduation...while many of our friends were getting home from being out all night... having hangovers, and having their pants pockets full of girls underwear...we were rising with the sun and packing our cars for the short trip to the iron bridge over the Embarrass River. We would leave one car there and the other at our destination. With a canoe on each car top and the trunk full of camping gear, fishing gear and food for the four day adventure...we loaded and left. Our parents would check on us a couple of times during the duration and finding us all well and contented...would have a picnic supper with us and then return to their homes...leaving us to enjoy our celebration.
At the state park, we set up a large dome tent...suitable for four and then drove back to the Iron bridge...a distance of about ten miles as the crow flies but with the curves of the river back and forth...would be a water destination of nearly twenty miles. By nine o'clock on that Friday morning...we were unloading the two canoes and putting in a cooler of soda pop, some snacks in water tight containers in case we should capsize, life preservers for the four of us, four paddles and an extra in each canoe in case one should break, insect repellent, and sunglasses...and shoved off at half past the hour. The water was a brownish green until we got into the current and then it looked and smelled better. The morning seemed so quiet on the water as the blades of the canoe paddles dipped into the water. The stroke of the paddle made little whirl pools around each dip. Old trees leaned out, over the water and every so often, we would see rock ledges along the river side. There were quiet a few summer camps along the river and we would see boat docks with fishing boats tied up to them. It was unusual to see a power boat because of stumps in the river. We referred to them as "deadheads" and tried to be careful not to run upon one. When we did, the stump was usually soft and the canoe would glide over it if the people paddling would lean to port or starboard side. At some points, the channel was shallow and we cold feel the sandy bottom of the river with our paddles.
At one point in the river, we had to make a decision to turn to the right and take a short cut through the Lanman's slough or continue southward and go around a small island called Dockiack. We opted for the latter and rounded the little island and saw no indication of campers nor wildlife. My friend Greg suggested that we might camp on the island sometime...but it was not a clean island like those we had inhabited at White Sands Lake in northern Wisconsin...but was more of dried mud footing that was often wet. It would have been a perfect habitat for snakes and other river creatures. I cringed as we paddled past. It took about an hour to reach the local lake where we paddled around the perimeter rather than directly across the lake. If one capsized...it was always nicer to be close to shore.
We could hear the roar of the spill way ahead and exited at the boat ramp, carrying our canoes up the ramp and setting them on the grass at the top. Here we rested for a few minutes and then proceeded to carry or portage our canoes to the area below the spillway...a distance of about two hundred yards. When we laid the canoes on the grassy area below the spill way...we rested again a few minutes and stopped to talk with some of the fishermen.
"Hi, are you catching much this morning," Greg asked of a local.
"A few small cats and a snapper," he replied. In a large ice chest full of water...he raised the lid and showed us a huge snapping turtle.
"Ugh," said Joe Baynebridge, "what you going to do with him?'
"Ahhh, he'll make great turtle soup," the fisherman replied, with the sound of pride in his voice. "Ain't you ever had turtle soup boy?"
"No sir, I can not say that I have," Joe replied.
"Only thing that tastes better is a little pussy," the fisherman replied and everyone around him laughed. Joe laughed too, to show that he was a good sport. Later in camp he would recall that the thought was revolting to him.
We put our things back into the canoes and pushed off, heading down stream. After paddling about a mile...we came upon some college guys floating on inner tubes down the river. Below the spill way...the current had picked up a little speed but now, it was meandering slowly in the lazy summer sun. Their were five college guys laying across the tubes, their bare legs and chests obviously beginning to sun burn a little. In their laps, each had a portion of what had once been a six pack of beer. They sang songs, and laughed at each other, made cat calls to the rock ledges and were much engaged in enjoying themselves to the max.
One of the floaters called to us, "Where you dudes headed?
" We are going to canoe to the state park and camp there. Do you know how far it is," we asked...knowing exactly how far it was.
"Oh about 30 miles I would say," one of the college guys said, "you will not make it by dark."
"Our map says it is about six miles," Jim Baynebridge said.
"Map's wrong," said the blond haired guy from his inner tube. "I've floated this river many times...and the park is a long way away. You will have to camp along the river before dark."
"Well, maybe so," I responded. "Where did you start from," I asked?
"Just below the spill way," the dark haired floater said.
"At the boat ramp," I asked?
"No, we couldn't put in there," he answered back.
"How come," I asked again.
"Cause we are all naked...and the lake patrol would not have allowed us on the water that way," he responded, as he raised his mid section out of the water.
"Damn," exclaimed Greg, "You've been floating naked all that time down the river?"
"Sure enough," another floater said, "and we are going to stay that way all the way to the end."
"Where you getting out," Greg asked.
"No idea," the blond floater said again.
"And do you have anyone meeting you with a car and clothing when you finish your float," I asked.
"Damned if I know," said the dark haired floater...and they all burst out laughing and started to sing the old beer song...Ninety Nine bottles of beer on the wall, Ninety Nine bottles of beer..."
Jim and Joe were whispering together about the conversation. "What can we do to help them, Ben?"
"I don't know...they might not even let us help them," I responded. "What do you think we should do...or not do?"
"Well. We can't just leave them naked on the river bank...can we," Jim asked staring back at them.
" I don't know...do you want to take them into camp with us...nine in our tent would be too crowded...besides, we don't know them," Joe shot back at us. " I'm for leaving them to their own devises."
"Ben, we can't just leave them and let them get themselves into trouble. Ask them if they will let us help," Greg replied.
"Maybe we could drive them back to the college," he said?
"I don't know...it just seems awfully risky to me," I countered.
"Well, ask them...anyway," he responded.
Against my better judgment, I turned back toward the floaters and asked
" Could we give you a ride back to the university or somewhere?"
"You could, but I don't know where we live," one floater replied...and again they all laughed. "Or we could stay at your camp and when it gets dark, we could show you how college men like to fuck young high school boys...all night."
That was the deciding factor. We laughed and went along with their joke, but increased our paddle stroke and was soon out of ear shot from the floaters. They were still laughing when we last saw them.
Greg who was not known for practical judgment, turned in his seat at the bow of my canoe and said..."we could have had a mess to deal with, had we stuck around. Still, I would not have minded playing around with a couple of them."
We laughed. Good old Greg, always seeing the more adventuresome spirit.
We came to very shallow place in the river called "Walker's ford" and there we beached the canoes, and carried them up the dirt pathway into the state park. My wrist watch said 5:00 PM. My stomach was getting empty...and all I could think about was building a fire in the camp fire pit and grilling some burgers on the grate. After securing the canoes with some chains and a padlock to a tree in camp...we lit the charcoal fire in the grate...and two of us drove to the shower house to clean up. On our return, the other two did the same. We added some hickory logs that we had purchased at the state park wood yard...and settled in to preparing an evening meal.
The fire was going nicely and we had a good bed of coals in the bottom. The park had built grates out of a metal that looked a lot like half inch concrete rebar...on which we added a smaller grate with quarter inch divisions. There is little as frustrating as being hungry and to have the burgers fall through the grate into the coals and burn up. We had placed aluminum foil wrapped baking potatoes into the coals a half hour earlier...and now we added foil wrapped ears of corn and some green peppers and onions wrapped in a second foil pouch. By the time the burgers were done...we took burger buns toasted lightly on the grill, the onion and pepper combos, mustard, and Velveeta Cheese to the burgers in the buns and had a great feast. As soon as the food was on the table, we set a large metal bucket on the fire to boil, for dish water. The supper was relaxing and a lot of fun. The clean up didn't take too long and it was good to
hang the dish towel on a section of clothes line, to dry over night. We sat around the fire and reminisced about our days activities. One day was gone...but what a day it had been. We had paddled around twenty miles but did not feel too worse for wear. The sun had just gone down and as we fed the fire, sticks...and laughed about our adventures...a slow moving car came around the bend of our camp with it's bright lights on. We wondered how inconsiderate a person could be to drive with bright lights shining in the faces of the campers. We heard someone from the car say, "There they are."
Two college guys got out of the car and approached our camp. We all recognized the two and thought...here is the beginning of some trouble...but to our surprise...the conversation was much different.
Both of the fellows looked to be about twenty years of age. One approached us and said, "Hi...I am glad we found you. We wanted to apologize for our buddy's crude remarks back on the river. He was just having some fun at your expense...Steve and I did not think that you may have known that. We are really sorry if he shook you up. He's a nice guy...but sometimes he says some pretty stupid things."
I walked forward a little bit and answered back, "That's OK, we knew he was just B.S.-ing us for joke."
"That's right," Steve said, "He is like that, but he really doesn't mean anything bad...he just likes the sound of his own voice." We all laughed. "I told Preston that we should try to find you guys and apologize. We were afraid that you would think that he was threatening you. He's really not like that at all when he is sober."
"That's right," said Preston... "He's a really descent person when he hasn't had anything to drink."
"We weren't concerned in the least," I lied. "Think no more about it."
"You guys are ok," Preston said again, "Do you mind if we enjoy your fire for a few minutes before we return to town?"
"Not at all," I said...looking around to make sure the other three were not hiding behind a tree, preparing to spring upon us.
"So what happened to the other three," Greg asked?
"We drove them back to the university. They were too drunk to complain. We all came out to the river together in Preston's Studebaker. After we got them back to the dorm, we decided to try to find you guys...to make sure you knew that there was no meanness intended," Steve volunteered.
Jim spoke up, "We have already had supper...but would you like a Coke or Pepsi?"
"That's the best we can do," Joe added, "none of us drink anything other than soda or tea."
"That would be great," Steve replied back. "Preston and I do not drink very often...only when we are out with the other guys. They didn't notice that we ditched most of the beer that they gave us. Guess it is kind of stupid to put on a front, but we like the activities...but not the conditions after they get liquored up."
"Well, you don't have to worry about appearances with us," I said. "What you see is what you get."
Preston smiled, "Actually, Steve and I already figured that out. It is not cool for college men to hang out with perspective freshies...but we thought you guys seemed really cool...and we sort of wanted to hang out with you...if you did not mind too much."
"We don't mind at all," Greg spoke up. "You are safe with us...scout's honor.
"Greg..." Jim snapped at him.
"Are you guys all scouts then," Steve asked?
"Yep, all of us...three Eagles and one almost an Eagle," Greg shot back.
"So are we...well, Preston is and I missed it by two merit badges," Steve replied. "Guess it is too late now."
"Not so," Greg added... "not until you become twenty one...you should finish it out."
"I know you're right...and maybe I will," Steve answered back.
Joe Baynebridge got up and started mixing up a Dutch oven dessert. He took a couple of cans of cherry pie filling and some Bisquick flour and stirred it together and set it into the coals...placing more coals on the lipped lid.
"In a little bit...we will have some dessert," he said. "Jim, did you remember the whipped crème topping?"
"Sure did, but I had planned on using it for something else," he said, grinning from ear to ear. We all laughed.
Steve looked at Preston, and smiled. "We don't know what you are talking about...but we like it for other things too." Again we all laughed. Here we all were, two seventeen year old graduates, two eighteen year old graduates, a nineteen and a twenty year old college student...coming together on the same wave length.
Greg looked at me...and raised his eyebrows. I shrugged my shoulders and smiled back.
"Do you guys have your camping gear with you," Greg asked?
"No", Preston remarked back. "I haven't had any camping gear since I came on campus."
"I have a sleeping bag and an air mattress...back in the dorm," Steve added. "We hadn't planned on camping...just floating."
"Would you like to stay with us, here...tonight," Greg continued. "We could open the sleeping bags and throw sheets over us...and if you do not mind being six men in a five man tent...your are welcome to stay.
"Oh, we should probably stay at the dorm tonight," Preston said.
But by the time we polished off the cobbler and had another round of Cokes and Pepsi's it was getting close to mid night and the gates to the campground had been locked for a half hour. That ended the discussion on their leaving. As the fire died down to just embers...we pushed the ashes onto the remain coals and headed to the tent.
The tent was shaped like an oval dome. We put our clothing and personal effects at the small ends with our sleeping bags open in the middle. Since we had four bags...we left them closed and took a couple of large old faded sheets to throw over us. The window flaps were open so the breeze could come through. It was always warm with four of us in a five man tent...but with six...it would be warmers...and the night did not propose getting much cooler than about sixty five degrees.
Greg was the first one into the tent and sat on the end bag taking off his shoes and clothes. He stripped down naked. Jim and Joe were next...and they too stripped naked. Preston and Steve came into the tent next and when they saw the first two naked...they peeled off their tee shirts and swimming trunks and joined the others in nakedness. I was last and secured the screen door, and took off my clothing.
Joe Baynebridge looked our guest over and commented that they were hung about as well as the rest of us. The truth was...they were hung about like the Baynebridge twins...but were much better endowed than either Greg or myself. In the tent, with six naked guys...we all knew there would not be much sleeping this night.
The college guys, to show that they were friendly...felt us all up and sucked us, and massaged our backs and fronts. Jim and Joe were a little hesitant...having only played with each other and with Greg and myself...but when Steve and Preston rolled them over onto their stomachs and rubbed down their shoulders, back, butts and legs...they were soon relaxed and trusting. Greg and I sort laid side by side and played with each other as we watched the college guys relax and stimulate the twins. Preston got Joe Baynebridge up on his hands and knees and rimmed his sphincter until Joe was whimpering in erotic bliss. Steve was doing the same to Jim Baynebridge. They took a generous helping of lube and applied it to the affected area and then treated them both to a slow entry and some slow movement...pushing in and then pulling back until both of them were thrusting back for deeper penetration. I had brought some old towels from the
camping box at home and threw each one, one to put underneath of themselves. Joe was the first to ejaculate with out being touched on the outside...and Jim followed shortly there after. Flipping them both over on their backs, reinserting their penis's into their sphincters...Preston stroked Joe with more lube until he fired again. Jim however was not getting a second orgasm until Steve went down on him with his mouth and in a short time...triggered a second orgasm with an ejaculation into Steve's mouth...which he swallowed.
They looked at us. Greg and I were so interested in how our canoeing buddies were doing...that we had not culminated yet.
Joe Baynebridge reminded us, "You guys know the rules...no one sleeps until everyone has got off."
Preston and Joe came over where Greg lay next to me. "Get up on your hands and knees, Greg," Joe instructed. Preston got behind Greg...lubed him up and started pushing his dick slowly into Greg's sphincter. Joe got underneath, laying on his back, started sucking Greg's dick and tickling his balls slowly with his finger nails. Greg was getting hot fast. He gyrated and moaned in pleasure. It only took a few minutes and Greg announces, " I am going to cum."
Preston started thrusting with all he had...his dick squashing Greg's prostate gland. Joe pulled Greg's dick out of his mouth and started stroking it and rubbing his balls with lubricant. It is hard to keep a slippery dick from pulsating. Jim scrambled to his knees and put his hand over Joe's mouth because he knew he was going to scream uncontrollably at the point of ejaculation and orgasm...and true to form...as the electrically satisfying of a thousand needles of eroticism pulsate through Joe's body...he ejaculated...seven, eight, nine large shots of cum. Steve who was watching the event from underneath, pulled back as the white sticky liquid just shot everywhere.
" My gosh," he exclaimed, "he'd drown anyone who was sucking him from underneath."
We all laughed.
My turn came next and I had four working on me at the same time. It was very intense and extremely satisfying. It did not take me as long as it did for Greg because having watched the others...I was ready to go. Maybe I lasted two and a half minutes. With every drop of semen sucked out of my body...I was suddenly ready for sleep.
After the sex games were over...we all lay down on the sleeping bags and covered with the sheets...drifted quickly into slumber. Greg was behind me and Steve in front of me...I was surrounded by testosterone. With Greg's dick near the the crack of my ass, and Preston's big dick pointed towards me...I went to sleep in utter contentment. Several times in the night...Greg scooted closer and I could feel him feel for my sphincter and put his hardware on the it's surface and press against me with out going in. Preston also, during the night reached over and fondled me and I did the same back to him. It was a great night.
Saturday Morning
I woke up laying on my right side facing Greg. He was turned with his feet at my head and his head at my feet...well relatively so...because he had just popped my dick into his mouth and was making slow, wet strokes on it. His dick was facing my face...and as I took a hold of it, he pushed forward and stuck it into my mouth. There is nothing like a little 69-ing to get one hot fast. As I went up and down on his rod...I felt Preston smear lube on my sphincter and start the process of inserting. Last night...it had taken him a while to work it in because he was so big. This morning after applying a little lube...he gave one good shove and it went in always up to the pubic hair. He must have been thinking of it all night because in just a few moments...he was shooting his load into me. It did not take Greg long to give me his load...which I spit into the same towel that had been a cum catcher last night. He continued to
work on me...and I wanted to cum...but something was just not right.
"Get up on your hands and knees, Ben," Preston had directed. As soon as I did...he lubed his longest finger and inserted and started massaging my prostate gland. The penis and prostate must be first cousins...because as soon as he started pressing on it...and Greg was jerking me with lube...I had a mega orgasm and ejaculation...that made me weak in the legs for a few minutes afterward.
Steve seemed too tired to want to repeat... this morning...and when he told us that he was too done in...the Baynebridge twins seemed relieved...because they had got each other off a good hour before.
After breakfast...our college chums put their things back into the old Studebaker and waving good bye...left the park as soon as the gate to the campground was open. It had been a peculiar day yesterday...and last night had been very intense orgasmic... with all of us having extreme pleasure in the site of our most exquisite reasoning...our dicks. Now it was time to start our day...and all I could think about was how nice a good nights sleep would be.
Jim and Joe talked to each other about taking a hike. There was a seven miler that skirted part of the park. They packed some lunch into a back pack and several bottles of water and started off. Greg and I went back into the tent and took all of our clothing off and curled up next to each other under the sheet and went soundly to sleep. There is something nice about sleeping naked with a buddy and being so close that you or he...has your dick between the others legs. I kissed him on the cheek, threw my arm over his waist and went promptly back to sleep.
Mean time, Joe and Jim hiked a couple of miles and found a log pavilion...open on all sides with a fire place at the end. It sat on a hill side and had a narrow stairway of stone going up the side to a promontory over looking the river below. There were two picnic tables made of logs, end to end. A plaque over the fire place stated that the pavilion had been built in the 1930's by the CCC boys during the Great Depression of 1929 to 1941. There was a nice breeze and rain had washed the table tops clean...despite being under the shake shingle roof. Joe and Jim ate part of their lunch and drank some of their water...and sat on the table tops and reflected about the night before.
"It was kind of fun last night, but I would have enjoyed it just as much if Steve and Preston had not found us," Joe said.
"Yeah...I know what you mean. It is kind of fun to dick around with college guys...but I would not have been unhappy if it had just been the two of us," Jim replied.
Jim swiveled around and lay down on the table top and put his head in Joe's lap...as he stared down at the river. Joe, as he was want to do...ran his fingers through his brothers hair and then rested his hand on Jim's shoulder. They sat in that attitude for about twenty minutes. Finally Jim sat up, took another swig of his water. He put his arm around his brother's shoulder an leaned his head against the other shoulder.
"I am ready to hike a bit further," Joe said, "How about you..?"
"Yep, me too," Jim replied...and giving his brother a kiss on the cheek, jumped off the table and slung the back pack onto his shoulders.
They started back down the stone steps and at the bottom step, turned back onto the trail and headed south.
The sun was hitting high noon and my wrist watch said two minutes until twelve. I sat up and threw the sheet back, away from me. Greg was still asleep, laying so peacefully next to me...sporting a rock firm hard on. I reached over and took a hold of it. It could not have been more erect. I leaned over and kissed it right on the tip. As I did so...he hunched and popped it into my mouth. I sucked it just enough to make it slick...and with the help of some sun tan screen...stroked it with the lotion. It only took a few strokes and he erupted with thick white semen oozing out the head and running over the sides. Greg always was such a heavy cummer. He arched his back in a cat like stretch...and said thanks and that he needed that. I don't know how he needed it considering he had now ejaculated at least a half dozen times since we set up camp.
"I am going to slip into last nights clothes and go grab a shower at the shower house," I said. "Do you want to go with me/"
"No," he replied... " I want another 40 winks. You go ahead and I will go when you get back."
"Ok Buddy...but don't sleep so much that you can not sleep tonight," I offered.
"Ok," he responded. I knew that he was going to go back to sleep.
With yesterday's blue jeans on and a white tee shirt on my shoulders...I slipped my feet into my tennis shoes with no socks, grabbed my towel and shaving kit and walked over to the shower house.
The shower house had communal showers. There were two young guys taking a shower with their dad...and another younger guy who looked like he was about my age. I stepped out of my clothes, hung my towel on the towel rack and with my soap and razor...stepped under the shower head to wet myself down. Shaving in the shower is something I learned from the Baynebridge twins...to save time. The two boys and their dad dried off and dressed...then left so the other young dude and I were standing under the water at opposite ends of the shower room.
"Do you always shave in the shower," he asked..?
"Just started doing it...to save time. Learned that from a couple of friends," I answered back.
"Aren't you afraid of cutting yourself without a mirror," he asked?
"Yeah...but after you nick yourself a few times, you get more careful," I responded.
" I shave in the sink with the mirror because I do not like to nick myself," he returned with a big grin. "Sometimes I have to have help."
"Help," I asked, "you look pretty capable to me," I fired back at him.
"Oh I am, but for swim team, we have to shave all of our body hair for less drag...and there are places I can not see nor reach," he answered again with a grin.
"oh...Oh, I get it...yeah, that could be a problem. How do you manage that, I asked him.
" I have a man-scaping buddy. We shave each other," he offered, "Have you ever tried to shave your own ass or balls...it's a dangerous proposition."
" I have not," I answered, with a laugh. Once I took the scissors and cut my pubic hair real short to keep the sweat from PE making me have a lot of body odor. Pubic hair holds the moisture, as you know...which makes for more bacteria, and more bacteria makes more odor."
"Right" he said, "and that is another plus for keeping the body shaved."
"Don't you hate it though when it starts to grow back, and itches like a son-of-a-bitch," I exclaimed.
"Well, that is another reason for keeping the shaving up, You don't get pubic stubble and it doesn't itch," he replied. Guys like you who have straight pubes instead of curly ones...might profit from having it groomed shorter."
"What color and texture is your pubic hair when it comes in," I asked...knowing that it was probably tacky and presumptuous...but he did not seem to mind the discussion at all.
"Black like yours, but curly. No girl wants to give a blow job with perspiration soaked pubic hair," he suggested.
"Right," I bluffed, " I know what you mean. I'm Ben Ezra Jacobson."
"David Dorset...Dave to my friends," he answered back.
He watched me shower and shampoo my hair. I wondered what he was thinking. Straight guys do not usually watch another man shower...but he watched me intently as he chattered away.
"Dave," I asked, "how long does it take to manscape your whole body."
"About 30 minutes if you do the balls and ass too...and I always use one of these disposable plastic razors," he said...holding up the dark blue razor.
"Would you like to have some help with the back," I asked, expecting him to decline and maybe give a rebuke.
"Sure he said," handing me the razor and the bar of soap.
I lathered up his back and his butt and shaved the hair, rinsing the razor free of black hair. Sensing my uneasiness about how to shave his balls, he laid down on the bench at the other end of the shower and pulled the scrotum tight with his hand.
"This is the hairy part...pardon the pun...but if you do not hold the sac tight, you will nick the skin," he instructed.
I put my hand around his scrotum, pinched it tight and very carefully shave his balls and the area at the base to his rectum. With my hand manipulating his balls...I notice his penis was stiffening until it was at full mast.
"Sorry about that," he replied... "that always happens. It will go down in a couple of minutes."
"Do you want it to go down," I asked.
"Well, who doesn't enjoy getting a hard on...but that usually means that you need to do something about it...and a public shower is not a good place to jack yourself off," he answered back with a sheepish, embarrassed gesture.
"There's no one here but the two of us," I said, "whose going to know or care?"
I took a handful of soap and worked up a lather in my hand and then slid it over his shaft and stroked it a couple of times. He pulled away. Thanks Ben, but no thanks. I-I-I-I'm, ah, straight and can't do that sort of thing.
"Sorry Dave," I apologized... "does your girl friend get you off?'
"No," he stammered, " I am not seeing anyone right now."
"I see...than there is no one to get mad at you for having an orgasm and ejaculation in the shower...is there?"
"No, but if I do this...I might get to wanting to do it again...and everyone would find out and I'd be branded as queer.
"Dave...who is going to know it besides you and me...and I would be branded too if I said anything," I reasoned.
Again I took more soap and stroked his dick. This time he did not pull away. I could tell by his breathing that he not only was enjoying it...but that he was beginning to relax from his self condemnation. I took the bar of soap and swished it in the crack of his ass and began to play with his orifice. He leaned a little forward to give me a better access. I applied another round of soap...and pushed my finger in a little. When he did not protest...I pushed it deeper and felt his prostate gland which felt like a hard walnut. This guy had not been off in a long time to have a prostate that large and that hard. I began to massage it...and turned him in the shower spray just a little...and put his dick in my mouth and sucked up and down on it.
"I can't do this Ben...I can't do this," he said, but he did not pull away. He began to shake and made these erotic and pleasure laden moans. "Stop Ben, I am going to cum."
I did not stop...but increased the pressure and the stroke. He shook harder as he ejaculated, spurt after spurt all over my chest and shoulder. I pushed harder on his prostate...and he shot a big load that was tinged with a trace of blood. He groaned again...almost a moan...and then collapsed into my arms.
I caught him and kept him from hitting the shower floor as the cascading water washed all traces of our sexual encounter down the drain. The door to the shower house opened...and two young men came in, in sports clothing. Seeing my distress at trying to keep Dave from hitting the cement floor...one grabbed his shoulders and the other his feet and laid him on the bench outside the shower stall.
"What happened to David," one said...looking squarely at me, as I stood naked before him and dripping with water.
"I was taking a shower at my end of the shower room," I stated, "and he started acting peculiar and somewhat incoherent. He acted like he was going to black out and I ran over and grabbed him so he would not hit his head on the concrete floor."
"He's a champion swimmer at our college in Utah," the other one said, " but he has had these black outs before."
"Really, " I asked, " you mean he has fainted in the shower before?"
"Yeah, several times. We think he might be hypoglycemic or something."
"He's a college student then," I inquired.
"Yeah, he just came back from a church mission to Brazil and enrolled in school and the swimming team...and now has had this seizure of sorts again." they replied.
"He was a missionary," I asked again.
They looked at me like I must be hard of hearing and slow.
"Yeah, a return missionary...and a good one for sure...but troubled in some way...kind of like ghosts from his past," the other one said.
As David started regaining consciousness, they helped him dry off, and dress. With their arms around him for support, he turned to me and said, "Thanks Ben for talking with me and for helping me...I guess you kept me from hitting my head on the concrete. I'd like to see you again sometime, to talk further...if you are willing. Thanks for coming to my rescue."
As they helped David out of the shower house...I rinsed off in the shower again and thought... "of all the rotten luck...to sexually assault a return missionary..of all people.
I rinsed off, dried, and dressed and returned to camp. Greg was sitting at the picnic table having a snack and wondering where I had been.
"He must have been damn good to keep you in the shower for this long, Ben," Greg teased.
"Greg...you will never believe what has happened. I feel terrible. I may have just messed up a guys life forever," I snapped back at him...and went into the tent to think.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
With the setting of the Saturday sun, the air cooled for a more comfortable evening. Then, an ever so slight breeze made the camp fire feel welcome. As Greg and the Baynebridge Twins sat around the fire talking about our day...a shadowy figure approached the fire. I had not discussed the meeting of David Dorset with my cronies so when he walked into the light of our fire, I stood up.
"Hi Ben," he said in a calm still voice. " I wonder if you would have time to talk to me a bit..?"
"Sure Dave...let me introduce you to my camping partners...Greg Whitacre, Joe Baynebridge and Jim Baynebridge," I responded... David Dorset."
They all said hello back to him and gave him a friendly wave.
"Ben, could we walk down the road to the campground gate, for a bit of a one to one conversation?
"Sure," I said and got up, walked around the fire pit...and headed to the road with him.
I expected some wise crack remarks from my camping buddies...but no such comments were made. With my flash light in hand, I strolled beside him towards the gate.
"What's up Dave," I asked?
He chuckled and then looked me straight in the face. " I have some explaining to do, Ben.
"Dave...you owe me no such explanations," I responded.
"Oh, but I do. You see, my friends told me that they had told you that I was a return missionary from my church...and sexual escapades outside of marriage are forbidden. What happened today could cost me my membership in my church," he stated.
"Are you going to tell them," I asked?
"We are supposed to," he answered back.
"Well, Dave...it was not your fault...it was mine. You told me `no' several times and I thought you were just playing hard to get. You were not the one who did anything wrong...it was me," I tried to reassure him.
"Your too kind Ben...but I could have pulled away or forcibly stopped you...but I didn't. I didn't want to."
"Then how is it wrong," I asked?
"Because the church by laws and doctrine says no sexual activities between other people out side of the bonds of lawful marriage...and for guys with guys...none," he responded.
"David...if I can give you my thoughts on this...if you are certain and committed to a life of celibacy until marriage...then I would suggest that you use today as a bench mark, and not get involved in this kind of activity again. You can say no' and mean it. If we had not allowed the conversation to go to manscaping' our interaction would never have happened," I stated emphatically.
"I know," he responded. I did not want it to happen...but, I did want it to happen. I wanted to experience interaction with another man," he answered back.
"Weren't you involved then with the other friend who helps you manscape each other," I asked.
"Well yes," he answered, " but we just jerked off together...we didn't do oral or anal. I wanted to experience it once with some one...and when you came into the shower room...I wanted to experience it with you."
I laughed, "David...this is confusing. You do but you don't? You're caught between your desires and your church setting parameters which you are expected to follow."
"It has torn me up pretty bad this evening. I don't want God to be mad at me, he responded.
"Forgive me," I said..."but isn't God suppose to be all forgiving and loving?"
"Yes," he responded, "but non marital sexual expression is almost always the line that we can not cross."
"Then my friend," I replied back to him, " it might profit you to make a list of the positives and negatives of your emotions and make a decision which side of the line you are going to dance. If you choose the church...you will free yourself from guilt and self condemnation. Isn't the purpose of religiosity to change and conform to that which is suppose to be spiritually elevating. If you choose the sexual path...then embrace it and do the best you can to love and be loved."
Dave laughed, "Are you going to study to be a psychiatrist someday?"
"Maybe," I smiled, "but what I am saying to you seems more like common old fashioned `horse sense'."
"So you are saying to me...make up my mind what I want...and then start today working toward it?"
"Right," I responded... "what do you want Dave?"
"The best of both," he answered back.
"My friend...that is not possible for people like you," I said, looking him in the eyes.
"I know," he said with a strained voice. He leaned forward and hugged me. His body felt warm...and he smelled good...like the most manly cologne that one could imagine. He continued to hold me close...pressing the side of his face next to mine.
"Dave...this is not a good idea," I said...and pulled away. "You have a task before you. You're going to have to decide where you go from today...this could cloud your thinking and complicate matters."
"I know Ben, but just let me hold you close for a couple of minutes. No sex, just an embrace that is more than a split second," he pleaded. His eyes showed no malice. I put my arms around him and held him close. If this continued very long...I was going to want him as bad as he seemed to want me.
A couple of minutes passed...quickly. "Thanks," he said and kissed me on the side of the cheek...then stepped back. "We had better head back."
Although it was dark along the path, I had to smile. He was attempting to conform to that which he believed was the correct thing to do. I wished him well. He was one of thousands I am sure with strong religious over tones that struggle with what they want and feel within and what the doctrines of their respective churches dictate. As we approached the camp ground again..he placed his hand on my shoulder and again thanked me for talking to him about his emotion. I responded by telling him that I wished him well...and that I would always remember our conversation. He shook my hand...looking around to see if anyone was watching...and determining that we were not being observed...leaned forward and kissed me on the lips...gave me a big grin and a pat on the shoulder...then turned and walked away.
"Ben...what was that all about," Greg asked with Jim and Joe looking on.
"Oh, just a guy I was talking to earlier about religion. His church is too strict for my gentile blood. I doubt that we will see anything out of him again," I joked.
" I sure hope those missionary guys don't show up at my door," Greg said.
We all laughed. I wondered what they would say if they knew the whole story...but it seemed best to keep that part of the day to myself.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Sunday was another nice day. There were open air church services in the camp ground which we attended with the other campers. We hiked a few more trails and played some cards and chess in the afternoon. The day passed fast and before we knew it...it was dusk and the campfires were stoked around the camp. Today was Memorial Day. Some of the campers had left to return to their homes...but Monday was officially another holiday since Memorial Day came on Sunday...so we would stay tonight and go home tomorrow afternoon.
We discussed going down to the river where the water was about waist deep and wading and swimming...but we never got to it. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day to go swimming. We went to our tent about mid-night...and the others went to sleep fairly fast...but sleep evaded me. I lay on one side and then on the other...but could not get comfortable. Finally I got up and went back to the fire ring and placed a few small logs on the fire. The embers blazed up casting anew light on the camp site and the woods next to the area where the car was parked. For a moment...I thought I saw someone standing behind the car. I rubbed my eyes and then looked again. There he was again. What should I do? On the spur of the moment, I got up and walked to the edge of the parking area...and there stood David Dorset.
"Dave," I said... "Is there anything wrong..?"
"No," he replied and turned and walked about twenty feet away. I followed him and again said, "you're out late...are you sure there is nothing wrong?"
"Nothing wrong, Ben." Again he walked another 20 feet and stopped and turned back towards me again. I walked towards him again. He repeated this action until I was standing next to his tent. He opened the tent flap and shined his flash light inside...showing that the tent was completely empty except for his personal gear. Then he walked in, and held open the flap for me to follow. I stepped in and he turned out the flash light. The tent became dark. He reached out for me and put his arms around my waist as he had done before...and leaned his head on my shoulder. Against my better judgment, I placed my arms around his neck...leaning them on his shoulders...and stood silent...waiting for him to make the next move.
"Ben, how old are you," he surprised me by asking?
"I'll be eighteen in July," I responded.
" Ben...I am twenty-two years old. Am I too old for a friendship with you?"
"Not at all...what does age have to do with friendship," I asked?
"Well, you remember our earlier conversation," he asked?
"Yes," I responded, "of course."
"Well, right now...if I made love to you...I would be breaking the law because you are not yet eighteen," he answered back.
"That's right Dave," I replied, "but why would I do that...when I was the one who made advances to you. You do not trust easily, do you?"
"I have always been afraid Ben...of everything. But I want to be friends with you...and to share ourselves with each other."
"But you only met me yesterday...how do you know you would want to be friends with me...other than I gratified your sexual needs. I might be a complete jerk...and you would not want to see or speak to me again," I suggested.
" I feel something beautiful when I am around you. I know that sounds stupid...but you don't fly off the handle when someone differs with you and you speak with logic and kindness. Forgive me...but those are not the characteristics of some crazy person," Dave expounded. " I want to be friends with you...and see you...a lot. I want to see you now..."
I laughed and replied, "well you are not going to see much of me now in the dark."
"I want to see you now...but not with my eyes," and with that he kissed me on the lips and started to unbuckle my jeans and pull my tee shirt over my head.
I helped him pull my shirt over my head and stepped out of my jeans which left me naked. He quickly stepped out of his tee shirt and shorts and both of resumed our stance in each others embrace. He leaned forward and kissed me again. I returned the gesture. Then he held me tight again for a few minutes...and then dropped to his knees. He took my penis which was quickly loosing it's flaccid stance and run his tongue under the main seam and around over the top and then the head. This guy was not a novice.
"Dave...you have done this before," I stated. "You are not new to this type of action...are you?"
"No," he responded. I had a buddy when I was fourteen and we experimented with each other.
"Much," I asked.
"Yes," he answered.
"But why all this pretense of being a stranger to sexual exploration with another guy when you played around as a kid," I asked.
" Because it was sin, and I wanted to forget it."
"But didn't you have fun with your buddy and enjoy it," I asked.
"Yes," he said, " I enjoyed it too much...and that was the sin."
"Dave...there is hardly anyone who has not experimented a little bit with a friend of the same gender. Instead of regretting those intense loving feelings, why not embrace them and remember them for the good times and good memories they invoke," I pontificated.
"Because they were...," he broke off.
" Because they were sinful," I said...with a bit of frustration in my voice.
"Ben...I need your help. I want to experiment with you and I want you to show me everything you know. I want to hear it, feel it, taste it...I want to know the whole thing," he said with a certain insecure tone in his voice.
I held him close again, and then knelt down on my hands and knees and played with is endowment. He lay down next to me and I talked him through the proper way to enjoy 69-ing...with me underneath, sucking up and playing with his sphincter. He was getting hot and how much more of the sixty-nine position he could endure...was uncertain.
"Ben, I want to role over on my stomach and have you insert and hump me."
"Are you sure, you want to do this," I asked?
"Yes, ...here's the lube."
I used the lube to stretch his sphincter to minimize the discomfort of the first time he was entered. When he was able to stand three fingers in the orifice...I inserted my penis into his awaiting hole. He clamped down with his sphincter muscles as I pushed in and pulled back. I had drained his prostate earlier...and hoped that this would not cause undue pain. Instead, he embraced the motion. Then I had him turn over, and I re-inserted and started stroking his cock with the lube. He got to the ejaculatory edge very quickly. As his breathing increased...so did the sensitivity on his dick...and with one deep breath...he fired, shooting streams of semen into the air and all over his chest. It was only a few seconds later that I was in the middle of an ejaculation and I pulled out and shot it on his chest so that he could feel the large splatters of my semen on his body. We froze in that position for a few more seconds. He
had a role of paper towels in the corner which he retrieved so that we could clean ourselves up.
After the hour of stimulation in which we had entreated each other. He asked me to stay the rest of the night. I had not told my tent partners where I was going since they were all asleep. I figured they would think that something came up in the night :-). Snuggling next to Dave with a sheet over us...we talked about sex and religion for another hour before dropping off into a profound sleep.
When we awakened the next morning...we repeated the night's before pleasurable interactions...only extending it by an additional half hour or so. I kissed him before opening the tent flap...and finding no one aware of my presence there...hurried off to the shower house to grab a quick shower. When I got back to camp...my tent buddies were all grinning from ear to ear...but not a one asked me where I had been or with whom I had spent the night.
Monday Morning:
We packed up shortly after the noon day lunch and returned home...each to our own. We pledged to get together as much as we could for more camping trips that summer. We had kicked off the summer season with a lot of energy and fun. That summer was mild all three months. Moderate temperatures...just right for swimming and a lot of sunshine and punctuated periodically with enough rain to keep the parks green and attractive. It was a great summer. I recorded almost every day in my journals because I sensed that someday I would want to remember the great times we had when we were young. I can not emphasize enough the advantage of recording one's daily activities for sometime in the future. Our minds simply do not remember the finite details of the years that are past.
We continued to camp together and our friendships have endured over the years. Greg Whitacre and the Baynebridge boys all live with in a 200 mile radius of me...and I hear from them frequently. We have had reunions to camp and fish and go on float trips. David Dorset...despite his deep seated desires for male relationships did modify his behavior patterns...or as he likes to state it..."repented of his sins," and married. He and his family live in the west and he writes at Christmas time that he continues to be vastly happy. I can not dispute that...just hope that he is indeed as happy as he says he is.
I cherish the memory of all the good times we shared in our youth. Enduring friendship and the love we shared for one another has been the crowning joy of our mature years.
Ben Ezra Jacobson