HERE TO HELP BY MOORE
CHAPTER SEVEN
The staff of Camp Walden Pond was already hard at work preparing for the boys' arrival when I showed up with a hardon that needed immediate attention. Two days without sex was a long stretch for me. I'd fucked three sweet young cunts during the drive from school to the camp in Maine, and helped one sixtyish, grey haired queer guy who approached me in a rest-stop men's room while I was about to take a much needed piss. A memorable experience worth relating, but that was two days ago which did nothing at all for my present condition.
"Take care of it for you, sonny?" My rest-stop buddy boldly asked as I unzipped in front of a grungy urinal and hauled out my sweaty dick. The smell of my crotch was pretty rank after five hours in a hot car. I pretended not to hear him and went about my business, suspecting a small-town sting that would cost me some big bucks or a night in jail to settle. My suspicions eased though when he got down on his knees and rested his chin on the scum encrusted edge of the urinal and breathed in my funk. No cop or con artist would go that far...or say what he said next to entrap someone in a compromising situation.
"Please, son, let grandpa suck your dick."
Still cautious, queer cops do exist, but loathe to turn down the offer of a legitimate and much needed blow job, I turned slightly to give him a better view of my dick and said in a stern tone of voice, "I'm not your son and your not my grandpa. Lose the clothes, cocksucker, if you want to swing on your master's meat."
The obedient old faggot followed my orders perfectly. "Please, master, sir," he said contritely, staring at my dick while stroking his own fair sized erection. "Please let me suck your cock."
The sad looking old queer knew all the words and the submissive, pleading, begging tone in his voice was about right for a lowlife, cum eating cocksucker. He was balls naked to be sure, and kneeling before me like a devoted slave, unsmiling yet seemingly confident as he waited for my answer. All sufficient reasons to help any faggot with my dick, but something important was lacking with this particular faggot. It took me a moment to figure it out, to realize that he had not once referred to himself as a fag.
Humiliation was the missing element in this spry old queer who'd probably been sucking cocks and swallowing sperm for half a century or more. The staggering number of blow jobs he'd given over the years, the gallons of cum ejaculated in his mouth was anybody's guess. There was nothing I could say that he hadn't heard before, little I could say to strip this fag of his confidence; remind him of his inferiority and bring a smile back to his face.
Self-inflicted verbal humiliation was the only way to help this old fag regain his place at the bottom of the sexual food chain. "Why?" I asked him bluntly, hoping a few simple questions would help him to figure it out as well. "Why are you naked, old man, sniffing my crotch and why do you want to suck my cock?"
"I need a dick in me bad, need to suck a dick and eat cum."
"But why?"
"Because," he stammered, brow furrowed in thought as he struggled to find the long forgotten words. Something clicked in his mind because the bright dawn of awareness suddenly lit up his face.
"Because I'm a faggot!" He said with the enthusiasm of a kid who had found a long lost toy. "A cock sucking, ball licking, ass kissing faggot with a scum bag for a mouth. It's been a very long time since anybody asked me why I suck dick. So long that I'd almost forgotten that I am a fag. I feel so ashamed again, like the queer schoolboy I once was, grovelling naked on the dirt floor in the boy's outhouse, playing with my boner and begging to suck dick. I remember it all now, the sheer excitement and the total humiliation I felt as a young faggot cocksucker when that very first hard dick passed between my lips. And I also remember the laughter of all the boys in school watching me suck dick that day while waiting for a turn to cum in my cocksucker mouth."
I needed a blow job pretty bad by now, but I made the old fag wait on his knees for my dick just to humiliate him a little bit more and to show the old queer who was boss. I teased him with the pearl of precum that had formed on the tip, smearing it across his quivering lips. "You like, cocksucker?"
"So, so good," he sighed happily. "Please let me service you, master, and please feel free to cum in my cocksucker mouth."
"Balls first, faggot," I demanded, spreading my legs. "And I'll cum where I damn well please. Do a thorough job on my sweaty nuts and I might feed you my sperm."
His tongue work was excellent, actively probing every crease and crevice of my crotch. I almost lost my load prematurely when the amazing old queer took out his dentures and took both of my balls in his hot mouth. The feeling was incredible, but a blow job from a toothless cocksucker would be a new experience for me...not one to be missed. I let him bathe my balls for another minute and then, since I'm always here to help, I allowed the old but rejuvenated faggot to suck my dick.
The degrading expression "pussy mouth" took on a whole new meaning as the toothless old faggot gave me great head. After five minutes of sucking I gave the toothless cocksucker his well deserved reward, and gave him a urine chaser to wash all my thick cream down.
The memory of the old queer and his pussy mouth kept me going for a while, the road sign for Camp Walden Pond reminded me of all the queers I would help this summer.
I left my car in the staff parking lot and adjusted my hardon before wandering the camp grounds in search of a queer staff member to give me head. There were many new faces this year, none obviously gay, and not a single faggot returning from last summer's crew. I headed for the camp office to find uncle Warren, disappointed that my blow job would have to wait until the campers arrived tomorrow.
Once we got the boys out of their clothes and into the program there'd be no lack of experienced, young and naked cocksuckers eager to blow me; pussy boys as well who needed to be fucked. And there would be a number of curious, would-be queer boys who needed my help with their budding homosexuality. Most of the multi-talented boys who come to Camp Walden Pond are already committed faggots. Those that aren't queers will be, or at the very least bi-curious by summer's end, heading back to school with memories of blow jobs given and received.
Nudity and gay sex happens every summer at this exclusive boy's camp that used to be a family nudist colony. The camp-wide commitment to spend the entire summer totally naked is irrevocable. All clothing is carefully collected and locked away. Towels, bed linens, anything that a penis-shy young boy might use to cover his naked body is stored away for the summer under the watchful eyes of Warren and Irving.
Uncle Warren and Irving are homosexuals, have been since they met and fell in love in the sixth grade and they don't need my help in the least. In fact, Irving laughed so hard when I once referred to him as gay that I thought he'd hurt himself.
"Gay, shmay," he said, holding his side. "We're old fags, Warren and me, fags from a time when gay meant happy. You know what makes me happy, boychick? No, I'll tell you a few things about this old faggot. Dick makes me happy. Your uncle's uncut dick in my cocksucker mouth or in my pussy ass makes me happy. And as I get older, looking at pretty boys, young boys...naked boys with smooth bodies and gorgeous little cocks just waiting to be sucked makes me very happy. Why do you think we run this camp?"
I found them both in the office, sharing Joel Rosenbaum, the former homophobic, football playing hunk and surprise winner of last summer's Camp Fag title. His hair was much longer than I remembered, and heavily streaked with the colorful highlights that are so popular with the queers back at school. The diamond studs in his earlobes were quite modest in size, unlike the large, heavy rings that pierced each of his distended nipples and the thick, leather dog collar that encircled his neck. Any doubts about what Joel had become, about what team he played for now were dispelled by the word FAGGOT tattooed on his hairless chest.
Irving was sucking Joel's cock and Warren had his face buried in Joel's butt. His mouth was wide open, needy and inviting, so I joined in the fun and offered Joel my sweaty dick with the three words every faggot loves to hear. "Blow me, cocksucker."
He kissed the head and licked the shaft, then swallowed me slowly an inch at a time until his nose disappeared in my wiry bush of pubic hair. Joel's cocksucking skill was extraordinary; his double tongue studs hit all the right places on my cock. I came, creamed his pussy-like mouth with gushers of warm sperm much sooner than I would have liked.
The mini homo orgy continued while I watched. Warren and Irving teamed up to double dick their fellow queer. "Oh, god, fuck me," Joel cried out as he readily took both dicks up his ass. "Fuck me hard and deep I love it. Fill my boy pussy with cock and cum."
I left the three faggots to their homosexual pleasures, thinking that I would help a lot of queers this summer. Not Joel, who clearly didn't need my help. Not Joel, who found his queer calling last summer and was a shoo-in to repeat this summer as Camp Fag.