Nudist Camp Vacation

Nudist Camp Vacation Chapter 2

He buried his face in my neck as my erection slowly rose between his legs. He must have felt me lifting his balls with my growing wood, because as soon as it touched his perineum, he shifted his legs and captured me there between his thighs. I gave an involuntary gasp. As he started to hump against me, the action also served to stimulate my erection and what little was left of my resolve vaporized. With his hot body and hard erection pressed so suddenly against me, together with his musky scent, his fast breathing and stimulation of the temporary center of my existence, my senses overloaded.

I now know that "the heat of the moment" equates well with "temporary insanity." For those few moments I completely lost all control. Common sense? What's that? Go to jail? Okay! My humanity took a holiday and the animal in me took over. I wanted only one thing: complete and immediate sexual gratification. My only thought was what was happening between my legs, or rather, what was happening to me between Tim's legs.

With my eyes still closed, I dropped my arms to his back, grasping him in desperation and caressing his silky skin and rippling muscles. Involuntarily I humped back, in fluid response to his movements. A moment later I could feel his body shake, and his dick pulsed. When I felt him shooting between our bellies, that was all I needed. I gently bit into his supple, satin shoulder and experienced my own explosion. It was like an atomic blast. I shot a crooked trail that started at the bedspread and extended thickly to the carpet behind him. Only then did I realize that I was whimpering like a hungry puppy.

I was tingling all over as if I had suddenly been beestung all over. We were both gasping for breath. I had him in a death grip, and didn't want to let go.

He felt so good. He didn't seem to want to let go, either. I felt him kissing my neck. Slowly, he moved, still gripping me with his thighs. I was still rock hard as I slowly opened my eyes. He pulled back slightly with a surprised look on his face. Then he leaned in to me and planted those swollen red lips against mine and sucked. I felt his tongue in my mouth so I jousted with it. His breathing had almost returned to normal, but suddenly increased again. My panting was matching his.

He finally came up for air, and then pulled back, pulling off of my still raging hardon and stretching thick strands of our juices between us. Ignoring the web we were spinning, he looked into my eyes with fear and said, "Alan, I'm sorry! It . . . it was an accident, honest! I didn't mean to . . ." Then he looked down at my erection and his eyes got big.

"Oh, shit! Oh, shit! That's huge!" he said pointing at my dick.

I looked where he was pointing and just as he lunged toward it to grab it, my senses returned in a flood.

Why is it that our good, common sense always returns at the most inopportune times? I suddenly realized what had just happened between this youngster and me. I panicked. I think I screamed and ran. Mr. Lame-o ran straight to the toilet, slammed the door and hid. As if he couldn't have seen where I'd gone.

Tim had to have seen the look of terror that must have crossed my face, because an instant later I heard a soft knock on the door and heard his voice, barely above a whisper. "Alan? Are you alright?"

No, I wasn't alright. I just raped a child. I was going to prison for the rest of my miserable life. I was picturing myself in an orange jumpsuit with some huge bear of a man with an evil sneer on his face slowly unzipping my long zipper and calling me "Baby." My heart pounded, but not in a good way. I was frozen with fear. I couldn't catch my breath. I was hyperventilating in a panic attack. At least that's what I think it was. I had never had one before.

There was another soft knock on the door. A desperate voice quivered and cracked demanding, "Alan? Alan, are you all right?"

Finally, I gathered myself together and realized I had run to the bathroom like a frightened schoolgirl. I breathed deeply a couple of times, then said through the door, "I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute." I needed time to figure out what to say. Then another panic set in. What if this was his first time?

What a wonderful memory that would be. A grown man spills his seed between your legs, then runs to the bathroom in a panic. How wonderful. I used toilet paper to wipe Tim's precious fluids from my hairy stomach. In another situation I would have tasted it. I'll bet it's sweet. Just as sweet as him. Oh, God, I'm gonna die!

I flushed the toilet and opened the door. Tim was standing as close to the door as he could and still allow it to open. His calf eyes were as wide as saucers. He reminded me of one of those beautiful children in the paintings with those huge soulful eyes. I wanted to smother him with kisses. My first contact with a willing lover in almost three years and I scared the crap out of him. What a dork. But I'm into damage control, now. I just had sex . . . or rather, did "something" (whatever it was) sexual with a child. Oh, God, I'm gonna die!

"You're pale. Come sit down," he said with forced calm as he reached for me, probably to steady me.

Since we were both starkers, I really couldn't stand to have him touch me. I was still in turmoil about whether to run screaming away, throw him out, or make mad passionate love to him. His touch could only make me once again lose my resolve. I wanted him desperately. About that there was no question. Did I love him? I had only just met him and yet . . . .

As he reached for me, I stepped back. He quickly withdrew his hand.

I cleared my throat and quivered, "Let's go sit down. We need to talk." He followed me to the living room. I sat in a stuffed chair and motioned for him to sit on the couch. "This will be safe," I thought to myself. Silly me. I had hoped he would obey my subtle gesture. He didn't. He stood looking at me with a very hurt expression on his face. Standing only two or three feet from me, he almost cried as he whispered, "Alan, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I just . . . I wanted to . . . It's just that . . ."

That look of anguish in his calf eyes was cutting right through me. I was about to throw everything out the window, baby, bathwater and all. "Do you want something to drink?" I asked as I got up and started to walk to the refrigerator. Could I be more of an emotional cripple? He was right behind me.

His breath on my neck was making my hair (and other things) rise. When I stopped, he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around. Tears were running down his cheeks. My heart broke and the pieces melted. So much for trying to be strong. I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. Bad choice! His switchblade pecker poked mine, and my pelvis jumped back before I could release him. Damn!

"Tim, we can't do this!" I begged.

He looked at me puzzled as he wiped his tears. "Why not? Don't you like me?"

Oh, God! I wanted to pick him up and carry him to the back of the motor home, lay him on the bed and show him exactly how much I liked him. I took on a compassionate, patient tone.

"Tim, it's not that. I do like you. It's just that you're so young! You should be meeting people your own age!"

He sniffed and wiped new tears from his eyes. "But I don't like people my own age. They're all so . . . immature. All my friends are older than me. Both of them. It just seems like everyone wants the same thing! I can't help it if I look the way I do. I want someone . . . someone who turns me on!" Then he said something that made me stagger. "When I first saw you, I thought you might be different. Then you ran away from me and I knew you were. You're so drop dead gorgeous! You're the man of my dreams!"

My jaw dropped. I had never thought of myself as desirable or even attractive. Especially not to someone so young. "Tim, that's very flattering, but you can't just go around telling people things like that. Someone could take advantage of you. You're just too young!"

He looked at me as if I had just told him I was a woman, then he got a smirk on his face. "You think I'm a child, don't you? You think I'm underage!"

"Well, aren't you?"

He started to chuckle, then laugh as he wiped the rest of his tears away. It was a relieved kind of laugh. At least he wasn't crying any more. Stupid me actually caught on pretty fast. I was proud of myself for once. I had completely misjudged his age and in the process made a complete mess of it. For that I was not proud.

"Alright, then, how old are you?"

He was smirking and chuckling as he stepped toward me. I stepped back, but not as quickly as he approached. Then he had me in a bear hug again, and that switchblade of his stabbed me again. That thing must be like a yo-yo . . . a switchblade yoyo. It had already been up and down so many times I lost count. It seemed to like me, though. I finally put my arms around him. When I did, he planted those luscious lips on mine and seemed to try to glue them all together.

I needed air. I pulled back from the kiss and said, "We still need to talk." I led him by the hand to the couch, and this time I sat there. He finally sat. He sat with his thigh entirely too hard against mine, but my dick liked it. Traitorous appendage! I moved slightly away from him, but he followed me. When I moved again, he got the hint that I was uncomfortable and he stayed put. His eyes seemed to be riveted to mine, expectantly.

"Alright, now, I want you to tell me: How old are you?" I figured a direct question would warrant a direct answer. Silly me.

He sniggered. Yes, he actually sniggered. I used to think only the English sniggered, but here I was sitting next to an American born Greek god who was sniggering.

"How old do you think I am?"

"I'm obviously a poor judge, so how about you just tell me?" At least he stopped sniggering. "I'm nineteen," he said, simply and seriously.

I looked at him carefully. "Not possible."

"Well I'm not carrying any I.D. as you can see, so I can't prove it. You'll just have to take my word for it." Then he reached for my persistently traitorous appendage. I swear, you can't have any secrets when you're nude.

I grabbed his hand before he touched me. "Tim! It's not that I'm not attracted to you. God knows I'd be a fool not to be. In fact you can see for yourself that I'm attracted to you!" indicating my crotch. It occurred to me that I knew nothing about Tim other than his name, he was absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous and my dick wanted him badly. I just needed to be sure that my other brain would want him, too. "It's just that this is happening too fast! I don't even know you, and you don't know me."

"Okay, then. My name is Timothy Smith, my folks own this camp, I grew up here, I graduated high school a year early at the head of my class, I just graduated from college also a year early, and I haven't been able to find a job, yet. Your turn."

In spite of his rapid-fire offering, something clicked. My photographic memory zipped back to the desk I had left just a week before. I had unexpectedly received a package of my favorite chocolates. When I opened it, I found that it had been opened already and there was a cover letter and resume inside. The name at the top of both the letter and resume was Timothy J. Smith. The last thing I did before leaving the office was to glance through the resume and eat two dark chocolate covered cherries. High school summa cum laude, graduated from The University of Texas at Austin in three years with a degree in . . . computer science? Yes. Perfect fit for my company. I saw myself putting the resume in my briefcase and my briefcase was in the knee space of my computer desk next to the bed not twenty feet away in the motor home.

My second biggest weakness is dark chocolate covered cherries with liquid centers. Somehow, he got it right. My first biggest weakness he had just discovered. Did he know who I was? How could he? But he knew about the chocolate. Could he know I'm gay? Well, of course he knows I'M gay, but does he know Geoffrey Stewart is gay? My photo hadn't been published in years, but could he have recognized me? Finally, is he stalking me? Guys like him don't need to stalk. They're usually the stalkees. Could it be he really doesn't know who I am? I guess I'll just have to watch his reaction. Difficult assignment. NOT! All this occurred to me in an instant. I took a deep breath and watched him carefully. "I'm 48 years old." He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "That means I'm almost old enough to be your grandfather!"

"Maybe a very young grandfather!" he protested.

"Maybe, but Tim, I'm way too old for you!"

"I'll be the judge of that! Continue, please." There was a cold edge to his voice. He's serious! He's really serious! Okay, so now I know he's nuts. I'll just go through the motions and see where this goes, but I don't hold much hope.

"Alright," I sighed. "I own my own business, I lost my husband to a head-on car crash almost three years ago, I'm still on depression medication and this is my first vacation on my own in twenty-five years." I'm surprised I got it all out that easily. But, I thought, that ought to scare him off.

His brow wrinkled, his eyes clouded and he choked,

"I'm sorry! I'm so terribly sorry! You've got to be devastated! How long were you together?"

The sincerity of his sympathy got through my defenses. I choked, "Twenty-two years, but I'd rather not talk about it right now." I cleared my throat. I had to change the subject. "Tell me about your interests."

He took a deep breath and looked at me with concern. Relaxing his expression somewhat, he said, "I got my degree in computer science." Bingo! It's the same Tim Smith! "I've always been interested in computers and computer games, so it seemed logical to get into computers. I've even written a couple of simple games. I'm getting better at the graphics, too. I finally got a decompiler, but I had to modify it, and I've been able to learn from some of the games I've got. The thing is, the code on all the popular games is just too simple. Anyone can crack them. I've been working on writing some security into the programs so no one can break their code and copy them. I think I'm on to something, but I'm at a point where I need some help. I've sent a resume to a company that I read was working on program security, but I haven't heard back, yet."

He sighed. His eyes were glazing over as he spoke. He definitely had a passion. But, I don't think he knew it was me he addressed that package to.

"Sorry. Mom says I get too carried away when I start talking about computers. Do you know anything about computers?" I wasn't about to tell him the complete truth. The reason he was trying to get a job with my company is that my company's a consultant of sorts in the field of computers. One of my subsidiaries is "Ubergeeks." We go around to individuals and small businesses and do trouble shooting for their computers and networks. But what interests Tim most is that we have a new division that works with the computer games industry, and has just begun to dabble in program security. There was a small news article published recently in one of the gaming rags. He must have caught it. His interests and abilities would be perfectly suited for my company. I must remember to call back to the office and get Bill to call Tim in for an interview. I'm already sold. Yeah, so, I'm a lecherous old man!

"Yes, I know some," I understated, hoping God would forgive my deception. "I have a degree in electrical engineering, and I'm interested in computer games, too. I have something you might be interested in. I have a couple of games that haven't been released yet."

"Yeah, I know, you can get betas online."

"Not these. These are among the most popular. These haven't been released as betas. These are test programs."

"How did you get your hands on them?"

Uh, oh. Think fast. "Uh, this salesman that comes to the office knows I'm into computer games and he got them for me." They're really a result of our consulting to test their safety and to see if we can add some security to them. Only the people at Playstation and S2I (my company) have copies of them.

"Oh. Sweet!" He bought it. Big relief. At least I think he bought it. All of his reactions indicated his innocence, but something told me I didn't want to reveal myself. At least not just yet.

Tim's excitement could not be contained. He almost jumped like a pogo stick. (See, I am old!) I turned on the 42" plasma TV and my PS-2. I plugged in the game and waited till it started to load. Tim's eyes bugged out. It was version 5 of the most popular game available. Version 4 had only just been released for sale. This version was exponentially more exciting.

Over the next three hours Tim was at least distracted from his apparent interest in me. When I finally saw that it was getting to be early afternoon, I asked Tim if someone would be missing him.

Looking distractedly out the window he said, "Yeah, Mom will be expecting me for supper, later." He looked at me with those delicious calf eyes. His eyelashes almost touch his thin eyebrows. Yes, I'm panting.

"Would you like to join us? We always eat in the Dining Room, and there's always plenty. Besides, my little brother always behaves better when there's company." He had a sly smirk on his face. Just blow in my ear and I'll follow you anywhere. I cleared my throat. My heat was rising again and my control was still on the brink of disaster. "Maybe some other time. Right now, I need to do some work. Don't look at me like that! The owner of a business never completely goes on vacation! Why don't you come back later, and we'll play another game. COMPUTER game!" He kept working this look in his eyes. I communicated quite well with just his eyes. Yes, my dick was dripping. Good thing I'm sitting on a towel. Hope it's not TOO obvious! No, I guess he isn't all that young. I chuckled at him.

"Thanks for letting me play this game with you. It's way kewl! I've never seen anything completely like it." He hesitated a moment. "Do you suppose I can get a copy?"

"Well, I don't know. Maybe."

"Thanks!"

"I didn't say I'd make you a copy!" "Yeah, but you didn't say `no,' either!"

I gave him a sly smile. "We'll see," I said, knowing full well I'd make him a copy.

We stood and he started to approach me. "No, Tim," I said quietly as I put my hands up to stop him. "I've got some thinking to do."

He looked at me sadly. "Okay. I understand." He looked dejected and left with a sad air.

Boy, did I have some thinking to do! I wanted him.

I wanted him too much. But do I dare do anything about it? He's a potential employee and I've always been painfully circumspect about interoffice romances. But, this could be seen as sexual harassment, even before the fact. Even if he didn't know who I am, I know who he is. Damn!

I got out my briefcase and dug out Tim's letter and resume. He's one smart kid. I scanned it to a PDF file and emailed it to Bill, the head of my program security division. Then I called him on my cell phone. I told him to read my email and encouraged him to interview Tim. He asked why I was so interested in him.

I told him only that Tim's resume was excellent and that his method of getting my attention was innovative. It was the truth, but not the entire truth.

Maybe it was the tone of my voice, but I think Bill suspected my personal interest. Since Bill had been a classmate of mine in college, he was also a friend. A good friend. Even though he's happily married and has several kids, he and his wife had been concerned about me ever since my loss and had even tried to set me up with some carefully selected men. It was a nice gesture, but not an entirely welcome one. I had assured them I'd find someone when the time was right.

A couple of hours later, about five o'clock, I had just finished reading and answering a week's worth of email and was enjoying a glass of wine while dinner was cooking when I heard a rap on the door. I looked out to see Tim and a younger, less developed, naked copy of himself. The boy was stunning! If he stood still for too long, he could easily be mistaken for a well crafted statue. I'm sure I'll never get completely used to all this nakedness when the bodies are so strikingly beautiful! My heart skipped a beat (I'm gonna have to get that checked) and I opened the door.

Tim entered, quickly followed by his little, wideeyed shadow. "This is Stevey, my little brother. Stevey, this is Alan." Then he looked at me with a sly smirk. "Stevey's thirteen."

Smart ass! I could tell at a glance Tim's charge was underage. I gave Tim a look like "Duh!" and he ducked his head. I stuck my hand out to Stevey and he shook it. He was not quite a head shorter than Tim and only slightly smaller in the manhood department. He was growing what was obviously a fresh growth of pubic hair and his slightly musky body odor betrayed his raging hormones.

"Call me Steve. I'm getting too old to be called Stevey anymore." He shot a disgusted look at his brother.

Tim ruffled his hair and Stevey howled, "Doooooon't!"

I laughed and said, "Okay, Steve. You want something to drink? Coke?"

"Yeah, thanks. How about orange? You got any orange?"

"No, but I've got root beer."

"Yeah, that's okay. Thanks." "Tim? You want anything?" "How about a beer?" he said with a smirk. Regular comedian.

"I think you know better than that!"

"Okay, how about a bottle of water?" He smiled and flashed those teeth. I could feel myself swelling slightly. Damn! I'll be dripping again!

"You got it." I turned quickly and took some slow, deep breaths.

While I was getting the drinks and topping off my glass of wine, I turned off the fire under the spaghetti sauce I was cooking. That would have to wait till later. "What're you guys up to tonight?"

"I thought maybe you wouldn't mind it if I brought Stevey over to see your games."

I told Tim to turn everything on, but I put on a different game I'd been given. I thought this one was better, and I had two others that were even better than that. I always saved the best for last.