Date: Sun, 5 May 2002 13:05:33 -0700 (PDT) From: 13greengrass <> Subject: SUMMER CAMP ROMANCE Bruce ended up in my cabin by happenstance. The luck of the draw. Somewhere, in the main office of camp, the secretary or assistant director arbitrarily assigned him, just a name, to me, just a counselor, just a cabin number. When I first saw him, my jaw dropped, he was so beautiful. He had a kittenish face with high cheekbones. His complexion was sun-drenched dark, contrasting with the bleached blonde hair that hung straight like strands of silk just above his slightly angled, smiling dark eyes. He wore an impossibly bright orange tee shirt, and a pair of denim shorts that hung to his shins, white socks bunched at the ankles, and new high-top sneakers, still clean and perfect. At first, he was just another beautiful boy at camp, really. There were so many that summer, as usual. Even in my own cabin there were lovely young things, all twelves, upon whom I cast my appreciative eyes. At first, nothing really distinguished Bruce from the others. He was sitting with the other boys, laughing and chatting while we waited to be excused from the dining hall to go to our cabins. He smiled easily, played with the other boys, joked, obviously a central character already, popular and handsome. It was after I had led them to the cabin that I noticed something special. Sitting on their beds, they all listened while I ran down the basic rules of the cabin. I caught a look from him, staring at me, suddenly soft, almost vulnerable, strangely unsmiling yet attentive and tender. I dismissed it as my imagination, wishful thinking, but he seemed to be gazing at me. The cabin was set up as a large room, in which the bunks were arranged against the walls. There was a small room, the size of a large closet, in which there was a single bed and dresser--the counselor's quarters. I had hung a blanket from the top of the open doorway, providing some privacy. The boys were not allowed inside without knocking first and receiving permission. This I made clear to them. The boys were expected down at the lake for a swim test and it afforded me an opportunity to discreetly survey their bodies. To me, boys are the loveliest of all God's creations. Even the word itself--"boy"--is my favorite in the dictionary, loaded and endowed with all the most wonderful connotations and images. I always appreciated my charges from a distance, however, having to be satisfied with fantasizing and masturbating to great elaboration on the chastely affectionate touching and stroking that came with the job. The boys in my cabin were a diverse lot--tall, short, thin, chubby, pale, dark. They were shy around each other at first, using towels and blankets to hide their more private parts as they changed. That would change after living together for a day or two. I spied on Bruce a beautifully toned body--slender but with small, visible muscles, lovely-shaped legs and a well-proportioned torso. He was sun-tanned nearly everywhere. It was obvious that he spent much of his time in nothing but shorts. I tried not to stare at his penis. It hung like a ripe, tantalizing fruit between his straight, sturdy legs. It was a tad larger than most boys his age, but by no means huge. He was the only boy in the bunch who was not shy about undressing in front of the others, and before long, everyone had also abandoned their pretensions of modesty. When they were all suited up and preparing to leave the cabin, I took the opportunity to touch Bruce. I placed my hand flat on his left rib cage and ran it down to his hip bone. I still remember the marvelous smoothness. Upon contact, Bruce seemed to go into a trance, absent-mindedly gazing off into nowhere as if concentrating on my hand. "Bruce, do you have a towel?" I asked. He didn't reply but he raised his arm slightly, as if inviting my hand to traverse the same path again. I accepted the invitation and he remained trance- like. "Bruce", I repeated. "Do you have a towel?" After a few seconds, Bruce nodded, still staring off, but he didn't move. He turned his eyes up toward me and smiled. It was that moment, I believe, when our relationship took the turn into something extraordinary. There was something in his eyes that announced this--soft and affectionate. I thought, at the time, that I was imagining it. He looked as if he had a crush on me and I stored the image away in my mind to insert into my fantasy that night. Just a look, but loaded with something more. On the way down to the beach, Bruce walked beside me, so close that his shoulder would occasionally bump into my arm, just above the elbow. He wore his towel over one shoulder as he chatted to the other boys. He gave me sly, side- long glances from time to time, asking questions about the beach and camp and the swim test. He did pretty well on his swim test but not well enough to gain the privilege of swimming through the deep part of the lake to a couple of rafts that floated there. He didn't seem too concerned about it. As he emerged from the water, brown body glistening wet, dripping and shivering, hair pushed back away from his face, I grabbed his towel and held it open for him. Teeth chattering, he stepped close to me and I draped the towel around his shoulders. He leaned into me slightly and I enveloped him in my arms, suddenly searching for something to say to make it all seem casual. "How's the water?" I asked. He shrugged as if he were thinking about something else, perhaps my arms around him and the warmth of my body. My imagination was running away with me, I thought, but Bruce snuggled in closer, still shivering, and we stood like that for awhile, watching the swimmers, talking to cabinmates returning from their tests. I was already wild for Bruce. Standing with my arms around him made my whole body buzz with excitement but I was certain that he didn't know as he stood dripping. On the first day of every camp session, there is an opening campfire. The fire pit was located at the bottom of a small hill, lined with benches and logs for sitting. Bruce had been my shadow all day, always next to me, leaning against me, even putting his arms around me. At the fire circle, he sat on my lap and I became immediately aware of how it might look to my co-workers. "Sit beside me, not on me," I said reluctantly. Bruce looked slightly disappointed and he sidled up next to me, our hips touching. He appeared to be a bit embarrassed. I spoke up quickly, lowering my mouth to his ear, my lips touching it slightly. "I'd love to have you on my lap," I whispered. "But then I'll have everyone bidding for a turn." He smiled suddenly, looking up at me and nodding and shrugging at the same time as if telling me that he understood. I pulled him to me with my arm around his shoulder and he melted into me, resting his head against my shoulder. We sat there in the darkness of dusk, the glow of the campfire on our faces. At one point, he put his hand on my knee, stroking it thoughtfully, his eyes again trance-like. It made me shiver. After the campfire, I took my boys back to the cabin. As they made up their beds and played and chattered, I lay on my bunk reading, relaxing, the blanket pulled up so as not to appear unavailable on the first night. It was always the first night when the troubles seemed to float to the top. In the comforting warmth of the sun, the campers were usually pretty happy, but at bedtime, homesickness, fear of the dark, and problems between the boys tended to arise. I had a pretty relaxed crew. They all seemed to be getting along well- -bragging and boasting and telling stories and jokes as they changed for bed. I was happy to have the quiet. I heard a soft knock on the frame of my door and looked up to see Bruce standing there. He was dressed in a large white tee shirt which hung to mid- thigh, his legs bare beneath. I gasped slightly to see him. It was as if he had stepped straight from one of my fantasies. He looked apprehensive, slightly embarrassed and shy. "Come in," I choked. He walked in and directly to my bed, sitting down beside me. He fumbled with his fingers in his lap, swinging one foot nervously, looking down at his hands, biting his lip. "I'm kinda....," he started, but his voice trailed off. He took a deep breath but didn't speak. "Homesick?" I offered. He snorted, a small laugh, and shook his head. "What's so funny?" I asked. "It's pretty common to be homesick on your first night." "I'd never be homesick," he said flatly. It was loaded with implication. He didn't have the kind of home life that he would miss. I touched him on the back, rubbing it softly. "What then?" He smiled and blushed. "I'm kinda...scared of the dark." I shrugged. "That's common too," I said. "Do you have a flashlight?" He shook his head. "You can borrow mine if you'd like," I said. "You can sleep with it on." Bruce swallowed hard, glanced at me, then looked back at his hands. "I was thinkin'" He was building toward something but he wasn't getting there easily. He chuckled and blushed more deeply. "I was thinkin' I" He pointed to my bed but didn't look at me. There was something in the way he was asking. When a kid is scared and wanting to sleep with me, they always sound innocent enough when they ask. They're more scared of not getting what they feel they need or being rebuked for being scared. Bruce sounded different--as if he were suggesting something more than sleeping. It was something in the way he didn't look at me, the tone of his voice, the tiny smile that formed on his pouty lips. I was convinced that my imagination was running rampant. The thought of laying close to this wonderful boy was intoxicating. I pretended to think about it, then finally said, "Try it in your bed first. If you need to come in here, then you can, but if the other boys see you coming in here, then I'll be sleeping with a different one every night." I found it hilarious that I would be pretending to complain about such a thing. Bruce nodded. I knew that he would sleep with me that night and so did he. We had simply established a protocol, a procedure which we had agreed to observe. I always play guitar for my kids at bedtime. It is a wonderful way of calming them and comforting them. The sound of the strings and the softness of my voice lull them to sleep. I am the only counselor who does this and, consequently, my campers are usually asleep early on, long before other cabins. I sat on Jeffrey's bed, a rail-thin boy with large, brown eyes who looked a bit like he was homesick, although he didn't talk about it. He seemed comforted by my presence and laid his head near my knee as he drifted off to sleep. Bruce watched me from his bed, resting on his elbow. I could see his silhouette in the near dark. "Bruce, lie down," I said. I had asked them all to lie quietly in their beds so they could fall asleep. Bruce laid down, but moments later, he was up again, watching me. I asked him to lie down again but it only lasted for a moment. He was trying to keep himself awake. Soon the cabin was silent except for the soft breathing of sleeping boys. Bruce was still resting on his elbow. I stood and carried my guitar toward my room. "Lay down," I instructed again. "Try to sleep." "I can't," he replied, but clearly he hadn't tried. "Scared?" He quickly shook his head, then just as quickly nodded, as if remembering his plan. I smirked in the darkness. "Can I come to your bed?" he asked. His voice sounded like it flowed from an X-rated movie, it was so suggestive and my mind was going crazy with anticipation. Again, I pretended to think about it. "Sure", I finally said. Bruce practically leapt from his bed and hurried into my room. I went into the adjoining bathroom and peed and brushed my teeth. When I came into my room, the blanket had been drawn from the door and inside, lying in my bed in the dark, was Bruce, shining my flashlight up at the ceiling. So much for being afraid of the dark. I stepped inside and began to undress. I was very aware of Bruce watching me. I always slept in a pair of boxers and a tank tee shirt, and as I removed my clothes, Bruce would "accidentally" let the flashlight shine on me. He kept the light near me so as to illuminate my body. When I was finally ready, I pulled the covers back and climbed in. At first we lay next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, the flashlight shining at the ceiling again. "Turn off the light," I whispered. He clicked it off and handed it to me. I put it aside and lay back. It was quiet and almost completely dark. A single light shone from outside, casting a few splashes of light into the room. The bed was small and I was thinking about what a horrible night sleep I was about to have, all for the sake of lying next to this boy, when he turned and embraced me, his small arm over my torso, his leg over me, his head looking to nestle into the nook of my arm. I raised my arm and put it around him, pulling him deliciously into me. He melted. He fit so perfectly there against me. I buried my nose in his hair and took a deep breath. "Still scared?" I asked. "No," he said softly, without hesitation. I felt his fingers on my rib cage, stroking slightly, exploring each rib. "Good," I said. "Goodnight." "Goodnight", he murmured. He had had a big day, full of new experiences and stress and I wondered if he would keep me awake with nervous chatter, but he fell asleep soon after, too tired to keep himself awake any longer. I had a horrible time getting to sleep, but it was heavenly to hold Bruce so close, so intimately. I awoke in pretty nearly the same position. My radio alarm clock was playing a love song and I hummed along as I looked into the sleeping face of Bruce. He was beautiful when he slept, long eyelashes and hair askew. I carefully climbed from bed and Bruce stirred and rolled over, tumbling back into deep sleep. I always got up earlier than most so I could shower and be ready to start the day by the time I had to wake the boys. When I returned from my shower, all the boys were still asleep except for Bruce, who was lying in my bed rubbing his eyes and stretching luxuriously. I could see for the first time that under that big tee shirt he wore only a pair of briefs, which was now swollen with a morning erection. He seemed oblivious to my eyes there. "Where'd you go?" he asked. It was obvious where I'd gone as my hair was wet and my towel was around my neck, but that isn't what the question meant. It seemed to mean "why did you leave without me?" "Had a shower," I said. He blinked and rolled over onto his side. I could see that he was staring at my chest. "You're hairy," he said. He sounded fascinated. "Yes." "Tomorrow, can you wake me up when you go take your shower?" "Why?" I asked, wondering if he was going to say what I thought he would say. He did. "So I can shower too." "You can shower with the others," I said dutifully. "No," he pouted. He paused thoughtfully, then looked up at me. "I'm too shy." I realized that he was attempting to work me. I smiled, happy with him. "You weren't shy yesterday when you changed into your swim trunks." He smirked slightly, searching for a response. " was just changing my clothes. I'm only shy in the shower." What a lame excuse, I thought, but so marvelous in its intention. I sat on the bed to pull on my socks and he curled around to place his head on my leg. "Pleeeease," he said in a high, soft voice, smiling broadly. I smiled back at him. I'm sure it looked like a yes (because it was), but I said: "We'll see." All through the day, Bruce and I were inseparable. He was hugely popular with the other boys and if one of them sassed me or gave me a hard time, Bruce was quick to support me, coaxing the cabinmate into agreement. They all followed him. My job was never easier. Meanwhile, Bruce and I continued our intimacy, touching each other so much that it nearly became second nature. He would hold my hand or hang on my arm when we walked around camp. He always sat next to me, leaned into me, jumped on my back. On the beach, he initiated a wrestling game with me, laughing as I tossed him softly on the sand. The other boys joined in and pretty soon I was buried beneath all eight boys, in nothing but wet swim trunks, laughing and shouting. Bruce and I had many conversations as well. When I asked him about his home life, he shrugged and looked a little sad. "My mom works all the time," he said. "I hardly ever see her." "And your dad?" I asked gently, knowing that I was treading into a potentially sensitive area. "He's in the army," the boy said. "He's a captain." I concluded to myself that he wasn't telling the truth about his father, but I didn't push it. "So are you happy to be at camp?" I asked. He shrugged. "I wasn't at first," he replied. He snaked his arm around mine and smiled up at me. "But now I am." This boy was working me completely and I was a willing victim. He had me entranced. I tousled his hair and pulled him closer. That night, as bedtime rolled around, Bruce asked me again if he could sleep with me. I told him that he had to start in his bed and then, if he needed to, he could come to mine. He agreed easily and settled into his own bed while I played guitar. He lay flat the whole time and I found myself hoping that he wasn't falling asleep--that he would find his way to my bed. I chided myself for this. After the little sleep I had received the night before, crowded in my bed, I would need the sleep tonight. It would probably be all for the best if I slept alone. After the last song, the cabin was silent. I stood up and put my guitar away and headed for the bathroom, slightly disappointed that Bruce appeared to be sleeping. As I brushed my teeth and peed, I told myself that it was best that Bruce and I not sleep together. It was safer and only natural that he would become more comfortable sleeping alone, etcetera, etcetera. It was all babble and I knew it deep down. I wanted to sleep but I wanted more to sleep with Bruce. On my way toward my room, I noticed Bruce's bed was empty and my heart rose with hopefulness. I pulled aside the blanket and stepped inside. There he was, flashlight in hand, making shadow figures on the ceiling with an outstretched hand, wide awake and smiling. The nights tended to be a bit chilly, even in the summer, but this night was unusually warm. I was tired from lack of sleep and the activity of the day. As I got undressed, Bruce shone the flashlight on my bare chest. "It's hot tonight," he said. "Sure is." "If I were you," he went on. "I'd sleep without my shirt on." Not all that subtle, but I loved the direction he was taking things. "Oh, really?" I asked. "I noticed you still have your tee shirt on." He sat up and shrugged, smiling as if he were trying to hide it. "I'll take it off then," he said, and he pulled the shirt up over his head. I was looking at him, sitting there in nothing but a pair of briefs, and feeling as if I had inadvertently entered an agreement with him: I would sleep without a shirt if he would. Again, I liked the direction he was going and it was a hot night and it would be even hotter with two warm bodies in bed, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. So I climbed into bed with nothing but my boxers. We immediately jockeyed into our position, him nestled into the nook of my arm, leg over me. The sensation of our skin together was blissful. He immediately ran his small fingers through the hair on my chest as if he couldn't wait to touch it. "Why do you have so much hair?" he asked. I shrugged, not really having an answer. "Some people are hairy." "I hope I have hair like this when I get older," he said softly, a finger lingering on my nipple. I was tremendously happy, but hopelessly tired. He wanted to talk more but I interrupted him. "I'm too sleepy to talk tonight," I said. "Goodnight." "G'night," said he, and we sank into a contented silence. Despite how exhausted I was, I couldn't sleep. I lay with my eyes closed, quite relaxed, but all I could think about was this nearly naked boy cuddled against me, his warm breath on my neck, the smell of his hair in my nose. My hand was resting on his hip, on the elastic of his briefs. His leg was resting on my erection and I was aware of his own, poking me in the hip. My head was swimming with pleasure. I didn't care if ever slept again. "Are you awake?" he whispered suddenly. "Hmmm?" I murmured. "Nothin'." We lay that way a while longer. He thrust his hips forward, slowly and subtly, pressing his boner into my hip. I lay motionless, drifting between bliss and sleep. After a while, his voice came softly again. "Are you awake?" "Yeah, why?" I asked. If he did this all night, the answer would always be "yes". "Nothin'," he replied. I was beginning to wonder why he was asking. His hips were slowly grinding his little cock against me. The thrusts were so subtle that, had I been thinking about anything else, I may not have noticed. His fingers found the hair in my armpit and he fingered it like a flower. "Are you awake?" he asked after another interval of silence. This time, I didn't answer, wanting to know why he was asking. Was he afraid to be left alone, awake in the dark? The silence lingered pregnantly. He raised his head from my shoulder. "Are you awake?" he asked again, looking into my face in the dim light. I lay silent, eyes closed, unanswering. He put a hand on my chest and shook it gently. "Stefan, are you awake?" he asked again. I was so sleepy that it wasn't hard to pretend that I was out cold. I was curious about what he would do next. I felt him shift positions next to me, then felt his hand go down beneath the sheet, lightly skimming down my torso. He rested his hand on my lower abdomen and I felt butterflies beneath his hand. Was he really going to go lower? After a few moments, his hand inched southward and came to rest on the waistband of my boxers. My erection was straining against my shorts. After a few moments passed, he lifted his hand and I felt it searching, prodding, until it found my cock. He touched it tentatively at first, then took a firm but gentle hold on it through the fabric. I think I must have made a small noise because he almost immediately let go of it and seemed to wait quietly. I remained silent and still and he went back to touching me. He pulled the sheet down and began to inch his fingers under the waistband, slowly, until his hand found the head of my cock. The contact was exhilarating and I nearly stopped breathing. His small fingers took hold of my shaft and squeezed it tenderly. I could hear him breathing, suddenly more heavily. My cock had never been harder, sizzling with electricity from his talented fingers. I straightened my legs reflexively and he stopped suddenly, thinking I was awakening. I lay still again, hoping he would continue. After a moment or two, he resumed his exploration, stroking, outlining my dick with his soft fingers. He lay his head down on my belly and continued to pull on my cock and I began to feel my orgasm approaching. I was amazed at how quickly it was approaching. My excitement was buzzing in my ears. My breathing quickened and I moaned. He didn't stop now and before I knew it, I was spurting sperm onto my belly, panting and gasping, grunting. At the first explosion, Bruce had let go of my cock, leaving me to spurt and drain myself. He must've thought that he broke something because he threw himself down on his pillow and went into an immediate pretend sleep. I reached down and milked the last drops out and sat up. I wiped my cock and belly off with a bandanna and lay back down wordlessly. Bruce lay silent next to me. I lay down and before long, drifted off to sleep for real. I awoke to Bruce clinging to me like I was a large teddy bear. His breath whispered through the hair on my chest. I spoke his name softly and touched his shoulder, stirring him. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at me. He looked like a baby stirring. "Want a shower?" I asked. He nodded. At first, he seemed to have forgotten the incident the previous night. He stretched, all arms and legs, twisting on the bed, his elbow in my face. He yawned. Then I think he remembered because he looked up at my face very suddenly with an expression of concern. I played ignorant. "Good morning!" I said brightly, running my finger down his jawline. He looked uncertain at first, watching me get out of bed and pulling my towel around my neck. "How'd ya sleep?" "Good". He answered as if he were trying to be neutral, trying to figure out what I remembered and how I felt about it. I had decided that I would not mention it to him but would be sure to express nothing but positive feelings toward him. It wasn't hard because I was already growing increasingly fond of him. We showered together. He was quiet but attentive as the water cascaded over our bodies. He had chosen the shower nozzle next to mine and I caught him staring at my cock several times as if he expected it to explode again at any moment. I nonchalantly washed myself and, to be honest, watched deliriously as the soapy water rolled down his beautiful chest, down over his belly and thighs, and down those glorious, straight legs. We were eyeing each other but saying nothing of it, acting as if we weren't. I put shampoo on his head and washed his hair as he stood covering his face to keep the shampoo from his eyes. He seemed unable to resist peeking from beneath his hands at my cock, which wobbled and dangled inches from him as I lathered his hair. He watched it so avidly that he forgot about the soap suds and he got some in his eye. He grimaced and cursed in pain and I lovingly rinsed the soap suds from his upturned face. Throughout the day, Bruce was back to normal, teasing and laughing and joking, ever the popular leader. I watched him play soccer, shirtless with white shorts, running backwards down the field, eyes focused on the ball. He moved like a graceful cat, lithe and agile, sweat pasting his hair against his forehead, glistening on his chest and back. I watched him swim and jump off the dock (which wasn't allowed) and romp and play in the water. He dunked other boys and came up laughing when others dunked him. I was falling in love with him. I avidly watched him, adoringly. Interestingly, I was noticing how often he was watching me. Many times while I was staring at him from afar, he would look at me, as if I had called to him, and our eyes would meet and we would smile. Quite often, when this happened, he would get so embarrassed and nervous that he would seem to explode with energy, showing off in the water or on the monkey bars or playing basketball. He loved my gaze and I loved to watch him. Many times, I would catch him staring at me, watching me talk to other counselors, playing catch with the football, or dealing with my campers, his cabinmates. At dinner, we filed into the dining room. Bruce had asked if he could use the bathroom moments before the dinner bell rang and came in later. As he approached the table, his mouth fell open for a moment and he paused in his stride. The place on either side of me was taken by other campers. He had sat next to me at every single meal, following at my side, nearly pushing other campers out of the way to grab the spot next to me. He looked immediately angry but by the time he reached the table, he looked only disappointed. He reluctantly took a seat across from me. I too felt the loss. I wanted him next to me but I couldn't push my other campers away. There was an uneasy silence at the table. Only Bruce and I knew why and we couldn't really acknowledge it even to each other. After some time passed, Bruce stood up and walked around the table to whisper something into the ear of Michael, the boy beside me. I couldn't hear what he was saying, couldn't even imagine what it might be, but moments later, Michael nodded with a bright look on his face and stood up, giving Bruce his seat. I looked at Bruce questioningly but he only smiled and someone began talking to me before I had a chance to ask. Bruce slid close to me on the bench, comfortable and happy again, and I put my arm around his shoulders to let him know the feeling was mutual. Later, when dessert was served, Bruce slid his shortcake over to Michael with a knowing smile and Michael took it expectantly. That had been the trade, I realized, and I loved Bruce all the more, sacrificing his dessert for me. He looked at me and smiled broadly and I pushed my dessert to a spot on the table between us and invited him to share. He was so lovely and sweet and I couldn't wait to hold him in my arms that night. He was in my bed again when I returned from the bathroom. I was concerned that he wouldn't after what had happened the night before, but he was there, smiling in his big tee shirt and briefs, arms folded behind his head and the flashlight stuck in his mouth, making his cheeks look like a luminescent pumpkin. I was so happy to see him there. Sliding into bed beside him, I took him into my arms, affectionately, tenderly. He surrendered, giggling when I tickled his ribs, wrapping his arms around my neck without thinking, as if we were lovers. I let myself kiss him on the forehead. It surprised me. I hadn't planned to do it. It just came out. I looked at his face in the dark. He had noticed, but he was just smiling as if it was all right. After some small talk, we settled in to sleep. I was thinking about the night before as we lay there. I could easily recall his fingers on my cock and the warm, tender way he brought me to orgasm. It made me enormously horny. I wished he would do it again. Bruce had rolled over onto his belly beside me and seemed to be sleeping. His breathing was slow and steady and deep. I rolled on my side and stroked his back gently, just wanting to touch him. I thought about all the problems of falling in love with Bruce, but I could sense that it was well beyond my control. I thought about dinner and his loving gesture and thought that soon, we would be able to talk about our feelings for each other. He was twelve and I wanted him to broach the subject when he felt ready, yet I was dying to know how he felt. My hand strayed down his back and up under the tee shirt, traveling over the smooth skin of his back, between his shoulder blades and over his shoulders. I could see his bright white briefs in the dim light--the narrow hips, the shapely legs. I let my hand wander down his back and onto his bottom and the soft, cotton underwear. He lay still beneath my ministrations. If he were awake, he wasn't complaining. I decided that it wouldn't be right to fondle him, even after last night, but I just couldn't resist. His stunning body lay so close. I chastised myself for my lack of self-control. Then I eased my hand down under the elastic waistband and over his wonderful ass. It was soft and firm and I felt the blood in my cock throb. I nuzzled his neck with my nose as I massaged his butt, pulling down the briefs, running a finger between the cheeks, down, down, and down between his legs. I was starting to feel guilty for taking advantage of him while he was asleep when I felt his legs part slightly to allow my finger access. I proceeded on my journey until I found his anus. I spread his cheeks a bit and he spread his legs a bit more. This subtle cooperation enflamed me. I was delirious with the notion that he was awake and enjoying this. I pushed his underwear down further and rolled him onto his side. He appeared to be sleeping, but I would have been surprised if he was. I felt the front of his underpants and found his cock very stiff, even throbbing. I fingered it through the cloth, then carefully pulled the briefs down, taking care to pull them out and down over his stiff little cock. I pushed them down his thighs and ran my hand over his naked ass and rubbed his hard prick. I took it between my fingers and pulled on it gently, then played with his little nuts. I pulled my own raging cock from my boxers and pressed it against him, nestling it between his ass cheeks. He was so soft against my dick that I felt my juices already rising and I began to pant. I stuffed my fingers down between his legs, searching again for his anus. He spread his legs against the constraints of his underpants so that I could more easily get to his hole. I touched it and fingered it softly, then wet my finger on my tongue and proceeded to apply the spittle to his rectum. As soon as my slippery finger spread the saliva on his hole, I heard him groan low in his throat. I massaged it with my fingertip and he spread his legs even more, obviously awake now but saying nothing. He was breathing heavily as I began to hump his ass and finger his asshole. His obvious pleasure was overwhelming to me and my orgasm came speeding on like a freight train. Just as I shot my come all over his ass, I inserted the tip of my finger into his anus, and he gasped, then purred and relaxed. It was enough to drain me, and rope after rope of sperm coated his buttocks. Immediately afterwards, I felt guilty, but he was back to pretending he was asleep, and he lay still as I wiped the sperm from him and lovingly pulled his underwear back up. His cock was still hard. I lay down beside him and kissed him several times on the shoulder and neck, then cuddled in beside him to go to sleep. I didn't know what to expect from him on the following morning. I was quite sure that he hadn't been asleep, but twelve year-olds can sleep through anything and I knew that he may well have slept through the entire experience. During our shower, he was his usual cheerful, light-hearted self, joking and smiling and staring at my cock while I washed his hair. He got soap in his eyes again for the trouble, and I gently wiped it away. It was my day off. I had told my campers that I had the next day off, but it wasn't until the relief counselor arrived to take over that the reality sank in. Bruce was suddenly sad and upset. His smile faded and he stared at me as if I were walking off to be executed. While I had a full twenty-four hours off, from eight o'clock in the morning 'til eight the following morning, I would nonetheless sleep in my bed that night since it would be harder to sleep elsewhere and be back to work so early. Besides, I wanted to be with Bruce more than anything else. "I'll be back tonight," I told him. "I might be late but I'll be here." He looked relieved to hear that I would be back to sleep with him but he didn't look too happy about being without me for the entire day. It was touching. It was also how I felt. I would rather spend my day off watching Bruce. "Do you have to go?" he asked. "I need some time to rest," I said. "I wouldn't need to go if everyone here was as wonderful as you." He flashed me one of his infectious smiles and he gave me a bear hug and said that he would miss me. He looked as if he had a stiff upper lip, deciding to just make the best of it, comforted by the thought of seeing me tonight. I found myself feeling jealous of the relief counselor--jealous that he would be spending time with my Bruce. I secretly hoped that Bruce wouldn't like him. I spent my day off with two other counselors. We drove to a nearby town and wandered about, played some miniature golf, shopped, caught a movie, then went bar hopping. I thought about Bruce the entire time and ached under the pressure to contain my thoughts. I checked my clock numerous times in the day and tried to imagine what he was doing--eating lunch, resting at rest period, swimming....I was secretly miserable. On my third Vodka Collins, I suggested to my companions that we head back to camp early. They looked at me like I was crazy. It was only nine thirty. One joint and two drinks later, I made the suggestion again. Ten thirty was too early, they insisted, and all I could think of was Bruce, lying in my bed, waiting for me to return. Finally, claiming that I was feeling sick, I convinced them to drop me off at camp so they could go out for further fun. I was quite stoned by now and stumbling through the dark toward my cabin. I walked in the door at 11:15 to find Bruce snoring softly, sprawled in my bed, tee shirt splayed above his delicious legs, white briefs nearly glowing in the dark. I was so happy to see him, and so stoned, that I knelt beside the bed and kissed him softly on the cheek a few times. I exited my clothes with desperate speed. I should have known when I climbed into bed beside Bruce that I was way too fucked up to have good judgment and show some restraint. Perhaps it's why I climbed in so quickly. I was obsessively horny having thought about him all day long and I leaned over and buried my nose in the nape of his neck. He smelled honey sweet and I sighed as if in relief. As soon as I touched him, I burst like a dam. I lifted his big shirt a bit higher, revealing his bare back in the pale moonlight. He breathed steadily and deeply, still lost in sleep. I kissed my way down his back and toyed with the waistband of his underwear, sticking a finger in and running it along the elastic. I greedily breathed in the smell of him. Slowly, I pulled the underwear down over his buttocks, revealing his slender, well-muscled ass. I kissed each cheek. I reached under him and probed for his cock. It was soft and tucked away beneath his cotton briefs. They were easy to drag down his thighs, down to his knees and beyond, over strong calves and his arched feet. He was naked under my gaze, under my roving fingers, which played up and down him, over his back and hips, down his soft thighs. I was pretty sure he was still asleep. His breathing hadn't changed--slow, deep, and steady. I knelt on the bed and walked down his body with my lips, tongue dragging over his young, supple, unbelievably soft flesh. I kissed and licked him down over his back and to the top of the crack of his ass. I let my mouth follow the crevice, spreading his ass cheeks with my hands, squeezing and stroking them, revealing the small hole to my searching tongue. He was remarkably clean for having run in the sun all day. My tongue darted over his anus, then probed deeper, actually penetrating the lovely lips of his hole. The first time I pushed, my tongue slid right in, he was so relaxed and asleep. But I withdrew, and when I pushed back in, the anus suddenly clamped down on my tongue and I felt and heard Bruce's breathing stop. I kept my tongue just inside him, moving it nearly imperceptibly, and listened for the slumbering rhythmic breathing to resume, but it didn't. I wondered if he was awake. I was too drunk and horny to be afraid. I massaged his ass a bit and wriggled my tongue a little. He was resistant but not protesting. His breathing was short and irregular, as if he were awake and listening for something he thought he heard. I ran my hands down his legs then back up to his hips, pushing up to raise his ass, nudging his legs apart. He allowed me to do this. He stayed in that position, affording me easy access to his hole. With his hips raised, I could reach beneath him and tug gingerly on his ball sac, then reach up and fondle his cock. I was thrilled to find that he was erect. He grunted when I touched it. I pushed with my tongue and it squeezed its way inside him, slowly and languidly, penetrating him. I heard him take a quick, deep breath, then groan. I pumped my tongue in and out of him, grinding my face between his cheeks. His back was arched against the bed, ass pushed up. I laved his crack and hole, making wide sweeps with my flat tongue that stroked him from scrotum to tailbone. He moaned and I knew without a doubt that he was awake. The bed creaked beneath us I stuck a finger into my mouth quickly and tickled the bud. He squirmed under my probing, wriggling his hips as if inviting my finger. He suddenly thrust his ass toward me and I pushed my finger inside. He gasped, then let out his breath in a long sigh. I probed deeper and was surprised to feel my finger being pulled inside, down to my second knuckle, and with a gentle push, beyond. My entire finger was inside him and when I wiggled it, Bruce groaned deep in his throat, almost like a purr. I finger fucked him slowly with one finger as I pulled down and wriggled out of my boxers with my other hand. I wanted to fuck him, but that would be too much, too far to take him without his clear consent. I returned to finger fucking him, slowly inserting a second finger, in and out. Bruce seemed to find the second finger to be uncomfortable, for his groan became clearly that of pain, and I had to proceed very slowly before they were slipping in and out without serious resistance. I reached down with my other hand to his prick. It was harder than ever, pressing into the sheet of the bed, a dab of moisture on the tip. He whimpered when I touched it and bucked his hips wildly, pressing his cock into my hand. I thought I was going to shoot my load without touching myself. My whole cock seemed to be taking a deep breath, preparing to spew. I thought I heard Bruce say something, through gritted teeth, but I wasn't sure. He heaved on the bed, his legs stiffened on either side of me, and his penis spat out a small dab of wetness as it throbbed madly against my palm. My fingers continued to fuck him meanwhile, slipping in the saliva lubrication. His whole ass was wet with my spit. He lay spent on the bed and I held my fingers there. From time to time, I felt his sphincter squeeze my fingers. His cock remained hard. I slowly withdrew my fingers. I couldn't wait another moment. My prick was buzzing with anticipation. I spat in my hand and rubbed my cock hastily. The touch alone almost sent me over the edge. I pressed my rampant cock into the crevice of his ass and humped him, slipping across the silken skin, pressing my pelvis into his hips, grinding. He pushed back and I grabbed his half-hard dick in my hand, tugging it tenderly. He hissed through his teeth and I felt my dick pulsing against him, then exploding, warm cum spurting onto his back and buttocks. I grunted and groaned, far too loudly to be safe. My orgasm seemed to last forever. I collapsed beside him. I felt immediately guilty and I lay there panting, catching my breath. Bruce remained still, faking sleep. I felt remarkably sleepy. I wiped the sperm from Bruce's back and ass with a swipe from the tee shirt I had removed. I dropped it somewhere. My head began to wander and I heard myself whispering, "I'm sorry" as I kissed Bruce's shoulder. "I'm sorry." Bruce rolled over to face me, his eyes still closed in pretend sleep, and he snaked his arms around my neck, snuggling his head under my chin, sinking his naked body against mine. I had a vague thought that I should dress us before I passed out, but then I passed out. Later, I awoke, mouth dry, head still buzzing. It was still dark. My clock read 3:17. I looked down at me and Bruce in the distant light. Our naked bodies shone in the white light, the elegant curve to Bruce's hip, the rise and fall of his chest. I forced myself to get up and slip his underwear back up his legs and into place. I pulled the big tee shirt down and pulled a blanket over him. He looked so young, like a baby asleep, long curly lashes on his cheek. I got dressed and settled in beside him, pulling him to me. My head hurt a bit, but I was happy. I didn't really worry about Bruce's reaction until morning, when we both awoke at the same time, eyes bleary and bodies stretching. I wondered if he would be mad or uncomfortable. I wondered if I had crossed the line with him. He sat up and climbed on top of me, smiling already, straddling my chest. "You're back," he grinned. "How was it?" "How was what?" I thought he was asking about the sex. "Your day off." He climbed off of me and out of bed, reaching up to pull his towel down from the nail on the wall. "It was okay." He stood watching me impatiently, wanting me to hurry up, get out of bed, get to the shower. I was distracted, trying to read his mind. He cocked his head and rolled his eyes. "C'mon," he said. I leapt out of bed. My cock was jutting out in my boxers but I made no attempt to cover it. It seemed incongruous after the previous night. Bruce definitely noticed. He looked down at it and smirked, then acted as if it wasn't there, straining, pointing toward him. He looked up at me with a knowing smile and I followed him to the shower. I didn't think I could last long not saying something about what had happened, especially when I was so sure that he had been awake. He had seemed to enjoy it but I worried about upsetting our friendship and the chemistry we had. As we stepped under the water, I stroked his shoulder carefully, and when he looked at me, I asked, "Are we okay?" He shrugged as if we were, of course, but my concerned eyes held him, probing uncertainly, worried. He threw his arms around me, pressing my flaccid cock against his sternum. The water cascaded over us as we looked into each other's eyes. He was radiant. "We're okay." The familiarity with which he touched me, naked and honest, reassured me. He knew what I was asking, and he was genuinely fine. I felt myself breathe in relief. We parted, wanting to be careful in this less-than- private place, and continued with our showers. Bruce and I didn't talk about what happened until much later in the day. We were at swimming and Bruce had opted to not swim. He sat on a bench on the beach with his towel over his shoulders. I thought this odd since I knew how much he loved to swim. The swimming instructor motioned him to come into the water and Bruce held up his index finger. "Maybe in a bit," he called back. I was immediately worried. I had been miserably waiting to see some sort of fallout from what had happened, some sort of delayed reaction from him. Was he ill? Upset? Traumatized? I sat next to him on the bench, looking out at the swimmers but talking to him. "You okay?" I asked. My throat was drying out on me I was so anxious. Bruce nodded. "Yeah." "Listen, Bruce," I started. It was obvious what I was going to talk about and his face grew very serious. "Are you okay about what happened last night?" Bruce looked thoughtful, then shrugged, then smiled. "I'm cool," he said. "Why?" "'s just that....." I didn't know where to go next. "I mean...I just..." "You didn't like it?" he asked. I was certain that I had misheard him. "Me?" He nodded. "I didn't really know what to do so I just...."--he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper.--"I just laid there." "I was really drunk," I said. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." I was making myself miserable and my voice trembled. Bruce looked utterly confused. "Sorry for what?" "For....ya know....taking advantage of you like that...." "....You didn't." "No, I did," I insisted. "You were sleeping and I shouldn't have....violated your rights like that." "I liked it," Bruce said suddenly. I stopped breathing. "Really?" "I came." "I know but...." "Well...." He rolled his eyes. "That shoulda been a clue, ya know." "But...." I was about to launch into the fact that an orgasm does not guarantee a good time, but that didn't seem to be true for Bruce. "I still shouldn't have done that while you were sleeping. I feel like I betrayed you." Bruce snickered slightly, then nudged me with his shoulder. "I did it to you once," he said. "You were asleep and I made you come." "Well, I know but...." "You know?" he broke in. "You were awake?" He looked shocked and it was my turn to laugh. "Of course," I said. Bruce shook his head slowly, amazed. He turned to me suddenly. "Did you like it?" "I came." He smiled broadly. The moment was suddenly alive with excitement and sexuality. "Did you feel like I betrayed you?" he asked. "No." He was so beautiful. I wanted to kiss him right then and there. He shrugged as if it was all settled and leaned against me, bumping his head on my shoulder. "Next time," he said. "You'll have to do it when I'm awake." I didn't say anything because I was speechless and I didn't move because I was getting hard. I reached up and touched him on the chin and we smiled at each other. "So you liked it?" I asked, now wanting to hear more. He looked a little embarrassed and he nodded and looked away. "Every time I think about it, I get a boner." He smiled nervously. "That's why I have to wait to go swimming." "Me too," I snickered, and we both broke out laughing. I wanted the night to come sooner. Bruce and I circled each other with an intensity that was hard to believe wasn't noticeable to all those around us. Things had changed all right. Bruce continued to shadow me all day long, sitting near me, leaning against me, holding my hand and arm when we walked, but I noticed that he bristled slightly when another boy would demand my affections. In fact, when Michael got hurt during soccer and came over to me on the sidelines, Bruce watched him curl up on my lap, crying on my shoulder while I held him like a baby. I stroked his forehead and patted his back. Bruce, I could see, found it difficult to watch, but he didn't say anything until much later when Michael, long recovered from his injury, remained on my lap, snuggled against my chest. Bruce jogged over during a break and glared at him, then at me. "He's all right now," he told me, his voice dripping with innuendo. But Michael was enjoying it and he just buried his face deeper into my chest. I shrugged at Bruce as if to say "What choice do I have? It's my job." Bruce looked irritated, took a swig of water, and ran back onto the field. I watched him play, glancing over toward us several times. His playing suffered for the distraction until I urged Michael to go back to the game. Later he asked me, "Do you like Michael?" I knew what he meant. "I like Michael, of course," I said. "But I'm crazy about you." His eyes sparkled and a smile crept across his face. He curled up on my lap just like Michael had done, face into my chest, and I tickled him until he rolled away, laughing melodically, shirt falling up to expose his flat tummy. That night, the energy was palpable between us. We were giddy with excitement and I could hardly make it through the guitar playing time. I sat on Bruce's bed and he lay touching my hip with his hand, a subtle connection that I found moving and romantic. I sang every song to him. Aaron, one of the boys, was restless and kept rolling about on his bed. I started to get up to go to him and Bruce caught my wrist. "Where are you going?" He didn't look amenable to the idea. "To sit on Aaron's bed," I said. "It'll help him get to sleep faster." We exchanged smiles and Bruce pushed me away. "Hurry up then," he said. "Go! Go!" Aaron fell asleep an interminable five minutes later. I put my guitar away and went to do my usual bathroom routine. I was trembling with excitement. I felt like an adolescent on his first date. When I returned to my room, Bruce was lying in my bed. His briefs lay on the floor beside the bed and the big white tee shirt was pulled down over his thighs. I walked in and stood looking at him, for the first time as a lover about to embrace him, as an open admirer of his young, boy body. He was self-conscious at first. It showed in his face. "You're so beautiful." I whispered. I shook my head, disbelieving. "So perfectly beautiful!" His smile came naturally, comfortably. He reached down and pulled up his tee shirt, exposing the exquisite and breathtaking expanse of naked body, tummy rising and falling rapidly, excitedly, penis jutting straight up from his soft, hairless groin. He pulled the shirt up past his nipples and tucked it under his chin, beaming proudly at me as I gazed worshipfully. He watched me drop my shorts, pull off my shirt, then lower my boxers until they fell bunched around my ankles. My cock was also hard and ready, and his young eyes fixed a wide gaze at it as if hypnotized by it. I crawled into bed and into his arms and my head swam with bliss. My body sang with euphoria. I began to touch his body, coursing down over jutting hip and sturdy thighs but he wriggled free and took my hands in his. "Let me touch you first," he said, nearly desperately, and he raised himself to his knees beside me. At first, the touching was tentative and awkward. He ran his fingers through the hair on my chest and passed his hands over me, touching me everywhere, exploring every part of me with a sweeping touch. His small fingers played across my chest and belly, down to my cock. At the touch of his fingers, my cock twitched and I felt the energy shoot through my body. He manipulated it carefully, curiously, lifting it as if testing its weight, touching the head and the shaft and the hair with great interest and care. He held my balls in his hands. He squeezed and kneaded my cock, pulling on it the way, I guessed, he did to himself. I moaned softly. "That good?" he whispered. I moaned my approval and he continued to fondle it. He leaned down with his nose very close to it, hesitant it seemed, then puckered his lips and kissed it on the underside. I groaned less softly and, encouraged, he lovingly landed kisses all over my cock, down onto my balls, holding, squeezing, rubbing his soft cheek against it. I felt my orgasm approaching, roaring from a distance, and so I reached down and pulled him away from my cock. "Now you," I said softly, and I kissed him on the nose. Bruce lay back passively and I lifted his tee shirt up to his chin. His stunning body lay outstretched before me, nipples dark, the size of dimes, slender, sleek hips, taut tummy and flat belly button. I leaned over and flicked his left nipple with my tongue. He giggled ticklishly, but he raised his arm invitingly. I licked his armpit, smooth and sweet, and he chuckled and half tried to protect it. My tongue traveled down his chest, over, in and around his belly button, down to his right hip. I licked the hip bone attentively, sucked on it, then licked my way down to the inside of his thigh. I kissed and sucked him there, moving down to his knee, lifting his leg to kiss down his shin and suck on his toes. He giggled and purred and gave deep, satisfied sighs. I traveled back up the other leg, over the shapely muscles, dirty knee, and soft inner thigh. He proved to be highly sensitive there, cooing deliriously as I licked my way up to his pelvis. I fluttered my tongue on his thighs and belly. He made little noises, high in his throat, almost a laugh, almost a whimper. My tongue neared his twitching cock and finally, darted out and licked straight up the underside to the very tip. He jerked involuntarily and gasped. "Oh! Oh!" He was ecstatic. I pushed his legs apart and fluttered my tongue on his cock and balls, teasing him. He thrust his hips up at me. I fluttered some more and he reached down and pulled my head down into his crotch. I dove in with utter abandon, slipping his little dick between my lips, over my tongue, into my warm, wet, mouth. I could engulf his cock and balls in my mouth at the same time, my tongue laving them, my lips sucking. Bruce writhed and gasped on the bed. My hands reached up and tweaked his nipples, stroked his ribs, squeezed his buttocks, brushed against his anus. Bruce's back arched and he thrusted his hips toward the ceiling. His legs tightened and straightened, his toes dug into the bed, and he erupted in my mouth. It was a small drop that tasted salty and sweet, just like my boy. He bucked his hips wildly and finally fell flat on the bed, spent, twitching dick still in my mouth. Almost immediately, Bruce sat up, eyes wide, smiling. "That was great!" he boomed. "Sssssh!" "Oh my God!" he whispered, laughing crazily but quietly. "Glad you liked it," I said, lying down beside him. Bruce threw his arms around me and hugged me. It was a genuine hug, intimate and comfortable and flowing with real affection. He heaved a deep, long sigh, nuzzling my neck. "Wow!" He was finally catching his breath. My hard cock throbbed against his hip. I was still hot but couldn't expect him to tend to me too. He was a boy, around whom the world revolved, now sated for the time being after his first blowjob. "Now your turn," he said suddenly, sitting up. He knelt over my cock and took hold of it. His hand seemed so small around my raging cock. He looked at it doubtfully. "This'll never fit." "Lick it and suck on the side," I instructed. "Take as much as you can. All lips and tongue, get it really wet, and watch your teeth." I pointed to the underside. "Here's the hot spot. It drives me wild." Bruce took to the task with abandon. He licked eagerly, sucking, kissing and, from time to time, opening wide and taking it all in. He did well for a beginner. I looked down at his handsome boy face, young and sweet, with my hard cock crammed into his mouth, eyes narrowed, even cross-eyed at times he was so attentive. He slurped noisily, hungrily. He looked like he was having a wonderful time. With one hand on my balls and the other holding my cock upright, he licked and slobbered and ran his tongue all over it, and finally, as he ran his tongue up and down the underside, I grunted, groaned, and exploded with a huge load, shooting out onto my belly. Mid-way through the orgasm, Bruce took a swipe at the ropes of cum with his tongue, licking and tasting it, then taking another sample from the last of it, dripping from the source. He smacked his lips and smiled up at me. I watched him with heavy eyelids, peaceful and calm, and he stared at my cock and the sperm with curiosity. Bruce and I cleaned me up, him prattling questions about sperm and eggs and men and women and babies. He whispered them like secret spy codes in the darkness and he settled into the nook of my arm. He seemed quite satisfied with himself and we lay there as if we were lounging on the beach at swim time or resting in the shade at soccer--comfortable, easy with each other, connected. He fell asleep late, right in the middle of a question. I followed soon after. Our shower the next morning went out of control. I don't know what made me think I could touch him without us going too far. I shampooed his hair with a sensual touch that we hadn't known before. His small head was so lovely in my hands, the hair long and thick with shampoo. I ran my hands over his face and he, with eyes closed, reached out and put a hand on my hip to steady himself. The lather rolled down onto his shoulders and I slipped my hands over him, down onto his back. I noticed his cock getting hard quickly as streams of white soap coursed down over it. He rubbed the bar of soap in his hands, mixing up a thick lather, and ran his hands up my chest, stepping closer into my water, hands sliding down over my ass, my thighs, up between my legs. When he engulfed my cock in his slippery hands, I knew we'd gone too far and I knew I wouldn't stop. We would probably hear someone approaching, but we would still have cocks as hard as bricks. He tugged my cock, grinning up at me with his eyes closed, the water running over his face, washing the shampoo down his back and over his sleek ass. My hand followed it, down into the crevice. He lifted one leg slightly and quickened his pace on my cock, his small fingers touching it everywhere, my balls rising. I fingered his hole with a slippery finger. I pressed him up against me to get in further, one digit, then two. He put his arms around me, squeezing my ass with his hands, rubbing my cock, slippery with soap, against his wet chest. He shimmied a bit with a little snicker, sliding my cock over his chest and wiggling his ass onto my finger. I groaned before I knew it. "Do you like that?" I asked him in a low voice. He wiggled his ass again. "Yeah," he gasped slightly. "Yeah." I moved my finger in and out, side to side, tickling his prostate. He laughed low in his throat. "Ooooo!" He squeezed me and rubbed his chest against me. "That'll make me shoot." "Me too." I shoved my finger to the hilt and he shuddered and gasped, dropping his head back, the water falling down over his handsomeness, eyes closed serenely. He looked like an angel. I finger fucked him while he shimmied against my outthrust cock. It glided over his nipples, his small, firm chest muscles, the head bumping him under his chin. My whole body felt electric with his passion, his abandon. I reached down to the front of him with my other hand and, with a soapy hand, began to rub his stiff cock. It was sticking out proudly, hard and resilient, impossibly hard. When I touched him, his knees buckled slightly and as his body sunk, my finger buried itself deeper in his ass. He hiccuped and squealed, high but softly. I felt his cock throb, pumping out a spot of sperm onto my hand. He seemed to stop breathing, leaning against me, face in my chest, and I shot suddenly, as if my orgasm continued his, took over where his left off. Sperm splashed out onto his chin, then another splash onto his collarbone, then another on his sternum. I gasped to the end and looked down into his face. He was watching me heave in ecstasy, watching me tremble, eyes scrunched tight, jaw slack, head jerking. He smiled slowly, making me smile as the last of my cum oozed onto his chest. The daringness of what we'd done struck me and I stepped away from him and into the water. "Shit," I said. "We have to be more careful." Bruce wasn't listening. He was rubbing my sperm over his chest like soap, his nipples glistening. He watched his hand smooth the goo, felt the texture between his fingers. He was studying it curiously. "You come a lot," he noted. "It says something about my partner," I replied. He didn't catch my meaning, giving me a questioning look. "You make me come a lot," I explained. "You're just so perfect." He gave me wrinkled-nose smile, embarrassed but flattered. Our relationship then lurched ahead. All day, I was conscious of how obvious it was. The looks we exchanged, the touches, the ease with which we were together. I felt as if everyone knew, everyone saw but didn't want to say anything. They were pretending that they didn't notice us, so shameless and conspicuous we were. Yet we couldn't help it. In woodshop, he made a coaster, a wooden base covered with a colorful rubber pad. He used the woodburner to write in the wood: "I love you," with a heart and his name on the bottom. When he gave it to me, he did it with all the heart-rendering spirit of a young suitor, offering a gift to his beloved. He watched my face for a reaction. I was so touched that I reached out and touched his cheek softly, rubbing his jawline for a moment without thinking of how it looked. No one seemed to notice. "I'll keep it forever," I said, and I hugged him warmly. All day I thought about making love to Bruce. I watched him everywhere we went. I got to thinking about how sensitive his ass was, how he went crazy the more I played with it, how readily it accepted my probing fingers. I wondered if Bruce wouldn't like to be fucked. The thought of my cock inside him made me too hard to stand around in public and I had to sit down with my hat in my lap. Every time I was alone, in the bathroom or on my break, my mind seemed to burst free and run rampant with fantasies about Bruce and me, making love on the beach, in the boathouse, in the woods. I would get so hard again that I had to wait for it to subside before I could rejoin the group. I found a beautiful stone, shiny and round, near the lake. It was stunning in its colors and texture and all the boys in my cabin admired it when they saw it. With pliers, I meticulously shaped a strong wire around it and hung it from a leather strap. It was striking and that night when I climbed into bed with Bruce, I presented it to him. He hugged me and spontaneously kissed me hard on the lips. He looked surprised at his boldness, a little embarrassed, but my reaction must have communicated my acceptance because he chuckled and kissed me again, this time pulling me to him, his small, liquid arms around my neck. I urged his lips open with mine and darted my tongue inside. His lips softened. His kiss opened up into a lovely flower. His tongue greeted mine. Fast learner. I kissed him lightly several times until he began to imitate me. I licked his lips, he licked mine, I sucked on his tongue, and he sucked on mine. He lay on top of me the whole time in nothing but his big tee shirt, grinding his pelvis into my belly, my cock head bumping his perineum, my hands squeezing and rubbing and fondling his ass. His whole body was so smooth and soft that I wanted to touch him everywhere at once. My hands roamed over his thighs and hips and back and shoulders, down again to his ass. I ran a finger into the crevice and he instantly parted his legs, breathing a little desperately, his lips pressed against mine. I probed deeper with one wet finger and before long, Bruce was straddling my waist and I was poking a finger into his anus. He was growling into my ear, his hot breath crawling around my neck, his hair in my face, the smell of him all around me. He groaned and whinced when I inserted the second finger. I rolled him onto his back and knelt between his legs, nibbling on his earlobe while I stuffed both fingers up his ass. He spread his legs happily, smiling up at me, arms around my neck, gasping and panting into my ear. In and out my fingers went, at first slowly, then faster. I put my hands behind his knees and pushed his legs up, spreading them wide, doubling him over to expose his hole to my hungry mouth. I licked and tongued him, licking up the perineum, covering his balls with saliva, licking and sucking his dick into my mouth. He was groaning so loud that I had to stop to tell him to be quiet. "I can't help it," he gasped. "Well then I'll have to stop," I bluffed. "I'll help it." I inserted my fingers into his ass again and the ease with which they went in indicated to me that he was ready for something bigger. I moved forward between his legs and touched my cock head to his anus. He flinched at first and looked surprised. I rubbed the head of my cock against his hole, teasing it, smiling down into his face. I felt his legs relax again and he closed his eyes passively with a smile on his angelic face. It was tough going at first. He whinced in pain as I tried to enter him and he hissed through his teeth. I waited patiently, the tip of my cock propped into his anus, then pushed softly again, pulling back , then pushing a bit further. He lay biting his lip, eyes shut tightly, panting with concentration. I leaned far over him and we rubbed noses. "You okay?" "I thought this was supposed to feel good," he choked. "It does," I said. "After you get used to it. Should I stop?" "Do you want to?" I could've lied. It would have spared him the pain. But I heard myself chuckle at the very notion. "I've never been so excited in my life." He looked at me and kissed me, whinced again, then took a deep breath. "Keep goin' then." "You sure?" He nodded and held onto me tightly, pulling my head down beside his, pressing his legs back even further. I pushed and felt my head disappear inside him. He was hot like a furnace. I went in a bit further, and with a large, slow exhalation, I felt his sphincter give way, gradually yielding to my invading, persistent cock. The feeling was sheer bliss. My cock sank into him until my pubic hair tickled his perineum. We lay there for a moment, then I got up on my knees, looking down at him, spread before me, his prick hard and nodding, his face contorted into a grimace of pain. I began to fuck him. At first, I thought that only I was enjoying it. He seemed to be in excruciating pain. Then, he began to moan, loud at first until I covered his mouth and told him to "Sssssh". I was grunting and heaving as I fucked him deeply. The bed creaked and I felt his fingernails sink into my arms. He seemed to hiccup and cough and sneeze all at the same moment, and he reached down to yank on his cock just as sperm shot out and onto his belly. His head was tossing from side to side and I heard him say, "Oh, God! Fuck!" under his breath but still too loud for the stillness of the night. It was too much for me to watch and my orgasm burst upon me. Waves and waves of pleasure surged through me as I shot my load into his ass. I pulled my cock out and shot more onto his cock and balls, then squeezed the last of it onto the inside of his thigh. I slumped over him, exhausted and weak, and buried my nose into his collarbone, kissing his nipple tenderly. Bruce lowered his legs from my shoulders and looked inquisitively into my face. "Was that good?" "Better than good," I said. "Way above and beyond good and into heaven." I kissed his forehead, his cheek, his earlobe, his jaw, his chin. "What about you?" "It hurt at first, but...." he shrugged and smirked. "Then it was great! Way above and beyond great and into...." He paused and thought a moment. "What's higher than heaven?" "Just you, boy," I sighed, and he spread his legs wide beneath me. "Do it some more," he whispered lustily. "When I get hard," I said. "Get hard then," he urged. We giggled and he lifted his legs slightly. I ground my pelvis into his ass, still slippery from the sperm that oozed from it. He wriggled his ass. It was working. I felt my cock begin to stir in the crevice of his ass. I repositioned us with me beneath him, him straddling my hips. He spit on my cock and rubbed it until I was erect again. So soon after my orgasm, I was shocked by how hard I was. He took my cock in his hand and guided the head to his anus, lowering himself onto it. He was still slippery and more eager than ever and my cock went in with little problem. Before long, I was all the way inside him and he was grinding into my pelvis. He was like a mad animal, rutting, sweating. I began to fuck him, the bed squeaking with every thrust, softly like a cricket in the night. I moved in and out with ease, my cock on fire with excitement. I grabbed his narrow hips and lifted him slightly, then pressed him down, lifting, pressing, fucking him slowly. Having just expended my load, I was refueled and had a lot of time to screw before I came again. We settled into a long session of fucking. His cock wasn't hard at the start of it but was soon jutting out wildly as my cock slid in and out of him. We fucked for a long time and I sensed he was getting sore as he was moving slower and whincing more. He dropped his head down onto me, pressing his face into my neck, resting his chest on me. I had to rise up on my heels to penetrate him and the boy moaned into my ear. I grasped his sleek hips in my hands. I could feel the juices rising. I was happy to feel it coming. I feared Bruce was tiring. I was afraid it was starting to hurt too much. When he heard my breathing quicken, heard me moan with rapid thrusts, shaking and rocking his little body, he became excited again. Inspired by my obviously approaching orgasm, Bruce rose up on his straight arms and looked into my face, smiling and watching. Our eyes locked. He looked like he was vicariously experiencing orgasm by watching me, by taking me there. He looked happy, elated for me, pleased with himself, radiant in his giving, our sharing. I shot my load into him with a hearty grunt and groan. He clapped a hand over my mouth and grinned into my face, eyes bright, gleaming. I moaned into his hand as another wave washed through me and into him. He was giggling silently and as the last of my cum drained from me, I too began to giggle, into his hand. "You're loud," he whispered hilariously. "So are you," I responded. "Not that loud." I laughed. "Louder." My cock was still embedded in his ass. It was already going soft. Slowly, I withdrew from him and my cock lolled lazily onto my belly, sated and peaceful. I reached down and touched his anus tenderly. It was gooey and slippery with sperm. "Are you okay?" "It's sorta sore." "I'm sorry," I said. I really was. I took my bandanna and began to wipe him gently. "It's all right," he said. "I like to watch you come." I smiled broadly. "Good." He whinced a bit when I wiped his asshole clean and dry and my heart ached for him. He was so giving, so generous, so loving. It was his first time being fucked and I had done it twice. The second round had been long and arduous, a slow-moving heaven for me. When he was clean, I pulled his underwear back onto him, pulled on my boxers, and pulled him close to me under the covers. It was late and he had to be exhausted as I was. Our bodies melded together as one, like wax melting into wax. I breathed in the smell of him and sighed happily. "I love you, Bruce." The words rolled out as if on their own. I was a little surprised at how easily they flowed. Bruce squeezed my neck slightly. "Did you like the coaster I made you?" he asked. At first his question sounded obscure and disconnected, but then I remembered the message on the coaster and realized that it was a reply. It was so perfect that I even dreamt about us, lying together, in love. Bruce was tired and sore the next morning. He was difficult to stir from his sleep but when I suggested he skip our shower and rest longer, he pushed himself upright and forced open his eyes, determined to go with me. He moved slowly and yawned a dozen times before we even stepped into the shower. He stood, eyes fixed on the water running over the floor, over his toes, shoulders hunched. I offered to wash him and he accepted. I ran my soapy hands over his body and he hardly reacted at all. His cock remained flaccid, his body stock still under my ministrations, his eyes gazing emptily at the floor. When I washed between his ass cheeks, he grimaced in pain and I felt horrible, having done this to him. I kissed him on the ear and apologized and he smiled for the first time that morning. "It's okay," he said bravely. "Maybe you're too small to..." "I liked it," he broke in firmly. "I'm not too small. I'm just....tired." "You fell asleep late," I said. "Maybe you could spend the day in the infirmary, just to catch up on sleep." "I don't wanna." "Why not?" "I wanna sleep with you." He pouted, his body stiffened into a stubborn, unrelenting stance. I didn't push the matter but I watched him closely during breakfast. He looked sick. His lovely eyes drooped, his skin looked pale. I constantly caught him staring dully off into space. After breakfast, I pulled him aside and insisted. "You have to go, just for the morning," I said. "I don't want you to get sick." "No," he stated, unwavering in his determination. "You're going and I'm not changing my mind." I had to insist, for his sake. I worried a bit about the nurse spotting something that might reveal the nature of the activities that kept Bruce up the previous night, but I was too concerned about Bruce's health to not insist. Bruce shook his head defiantly. "Only if you go too," he said. "You're going," I said back. "I'm not." "But..." His voice had skipped into a whine and I knew he was relenting. "But nothing," I said. "I care too much about you to let you get sick." Bruce spent the morning in the infirmary. I stopped by to check on him twice and he was sound asleep, hair spread on his pillow, his lovely color back in his face. I stroked his cheek and left. I felt incomplete while we were separated. The kids in my cabin hung on me and played with me but I missed Bruce entirely. Still, it was good to catch up on my relationships with the other boys before it began to take its toll. After lunch, while they played on the playground, I went up to see Bruce. He was awake and finishing his lunch in bed. He was back to his chipper self, smiling at me as I entered, leaping to his feet and hurling himself, airborne, at me. I caught him in my arms and squeezed him to me. "How do you feel?" I asked. "Great!" "Rested?" He smiled conspiratorially and touched his forehead to mine. "Uh-huh," he nodded. "And I figured that now I'll be able to stay up later tonight." He raised his eyebrows up and down meaningfully, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn't help smiling, but I also worried that maybe he was prepared to do anything for my attention, willing to comply to any of my whims and needs, and that the sex had been largely for my benefit and enjoyment, not his. He was sacrificing his body for my love and affection, allowing me to utilize it in any way I saw fit in exchange for love. I waited and watched him pull clothes onto his impeccable body. He did it speedily, as if he were afraid I might leave without him, and when he was done, he grabbed my hand and refused to let go. We left the infirmary and headed toward the playground. He was glowing with happiness and health. "Bruce," I said. "I would be just as happy cuddling and talking with you tonight. You don't have to....ya know...we don't have to...." He looked at me, confused. "You don't want to?" "I don't want to hurt you," I said. "Ever." He squeezed my hand. "You didn't." "Still," I said. "We don't have to if you'd rather do something else." "Like what?" I didn't have answer at the ready. I shrugged. "Hang out," I said. "Talk." He snorted in laughter. "You're crazy." Somebody called his name from the playground and his cabin mates came running to greet him. They surrounded him like a hero returning from a great conquest, rattling on about the exploits of the morning, inviting him to play on the playground. He ran off with them and they swarmed over the monkey bars like an army of ants. I saw Bruce's temper flare later that day when, after dinner, an older boy from another cabin was bullying Michael. Michael was crying and cowering while the older boy taunted him and slapped him in the back of the head. I was about to yell out to him, to tell him to stop. I had taken a step toward them. Bruce appeared from nowhere, stepping brazenly between them, glaring into the face of the older boy who was a good head taller than Bruce. Bruce puffed his chest out and rose slightly on his toes, like a cat trying to look bigger and more intimidating. The older boy didn't back down. There was an exchange of words that I couldn't hear, then the bigger boy shoved Bruce hard, sending him back about four feet. Bruce stepped up sideways, on his toes, both fists balled, and struck with his right. It landed square in the middle of the older boys face. Before the blood had a chance to gush from his nose, Bruce landed another punch into the boy's stomach. The fight was on. The bigger boy charged, head down, knocking Bruce to the ground and the older boy on top of him, fists flailing. It all lasted only a few moments before I and two other counselors reached them. I grabbed Bruce, the others grabbed the larger boy, whose tee shirt was already stained with blood. He was, to my surprise, crying and growling at the same time. Bruce was simply furious, cutting loose with a string of curse words that shocked a few of the more innocent onlookers. I spoke softly into Bruce's ear. "Calm down. Now." I was gentle but insistent and Bruce grew silent, still breathing heavily, adrenaline still flowing. After a few moments, I felt his body relax and he watched the older boy being taken away to the nurse. Bruce had a puffy eye that was getting bigger by the moment and a counselor rushed away and returned with a bag of ice. Bruce emerged with a small bruise beneath his left eye and the utter respect of his cabinmates, particularly little Michael, who regarded Bruce with an adoring gaze while Bruce sat with the ice pack on his eye. I had to admit that I too was impressed by Bruce's bravery and loyalty, his championing for the underdog, his disdain and intolerance for bullies and injustice. I tried to tell him that fighting was wrong but ended up saying that sometimes, a person has to fight, and although he should've utilized staff intervention, he had fought for a worthy cause. He eyed me as if he knew that I was proud of him, but he nodded solemnly and apologized. The other boy, as it turned out, showed up at evening activities with a slightly swollen nose, eye and cheekbone, clearly the worse for wear, the defeated villain. Little Michael was talky that evening at bedtime, still excited about the incident, worshipping Bruce from afar, tending to him like a servant. Bruce humbly accepted the attention. I could tell that it both pleased and embarrassed him. He kept telling Michael to forget about it but he beamed at every retelling of the story that Michael offered. Consequently, Michael didn't fall asleep to the guitar. When all others but Bruce were snoring softly, Michael was still awake, asking me what would happen if the boy attacked him tomorrow, and on and on. Bruce impatiently told him to go to sleep, then lay silently in his bed. After about fifteen minutes of sitting on Michael's bedside, stroking his back to calm and relax him, he was quiet but still awake. Bruce watched him closely as if he could will him to sleep. I went to the bathroom and went through my routine and when I returned, Bruce was peering through the darkness at Michael, who appeared to be asleep. Bruce leapt silently to the floor and followed me into my room. I put my toothbrush away and went out to check on Michael. He was breathing deeply, out cold, and I rushed back to the room. I was prepared to spend a night with Bruce talking and cuddling, not initiating any sex, not pushing my desires upon him. Really I was. I had chastized myself for thinking otherwise and had my intentions under control. However, when I entered my room, Bruce looked frantically at me. "Is he asleep?" he whispered. I nodded. Bruce yanked down his briefs and kicked them off. They flew into the corner of the room. He climbed into bed and motioned for me to hurry up. By the time I was naked, Bruce had lifted his legs and spread them wide, a near panicked look on his face, flushed red with excitement. He sucked on one of his fingers and reached down between his legs, fingering his asshole. I lowered myself slowly upon him, my hard cock waving before me. He was already panting. With his other arm, he pulled me down onto him. "Do it to me again," he whispered. I was surprised and enormously excited to hear him say it. "Are you sure?" "Hell yes." "I don't want to hurt you again, Bruce." I was trying to remain responsible about this but Bruce squeezed my cock and guided it to his hole. "I wanna," he insisted. "Bruce...." "Please!" he said suddenly. "I've been waiting all day!" I couldn't resist his pleading. I didn't want to resist. He was eager and spread as wide as he could, gasping before I had even really touched him. I licked a finger and circled his anus slowly. "Oh, yeah," he purred. "Lick me first, okay?" His eyes were suddenly wide and excited, imploring me, pleading. He didn't have to ask twice. I became terrifically excited, panting and moaning as I began to lick him with wide strokes--his thighs and belly, his little balls in their silky sac, his prick, small and firmly erect. He squirmed on the bed as I held him by the hips. When my tongue invaded his asshole, he began to breathe faster, grunting low in his throat. I shoved my tongue in as far as it could go, pushing his legs up until his knees touched his ears. I ate him hungrily, sucking on the lips of his anus, plunging my tongue in and out. I inserted a finger slowly. "Oh, yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" he gasped. "Put it in now!" I inserted a second finger and he grunted as it went in. I had to dilate him slowly but he seemed too eager to wait. "Put it in!" he pleaded. "Hurry!" I fingered him with two fingers for a while, then positioned myself so that my cock head came to rest on his pink bud. His eyes were rolling into his head and his tongue protruded slightly from between his pink lips. He was delirious with the moment, enveloped in passion. My cock slid in easily at first and didn't meet resistance until it was better than half way in. He grunted and grimaced, then looked up into my face. "Fuck me!" he whispered. The words jolted me, coming from this little boy, so hungry and open and willing. I pulled out slightly, then pushed all the way in. He moaned and gritted his teeth. When I was all the way in, I stopped and waited for him to catch his breath. He smiled up at me, eyes closed as if he were in a heavenly dream, as if he were hovering somewhere near nirvana, paradise, contentment, bliss. I was so turned on by the sight of him, writhing there, his beautiful, warm, smooth body doubled over underneath me, begging me to do to him what I so desired. I began to fuck him deeply, holding onto his small ankles with my hands. I watched my dick slide into him, through the slippery lips of his hole, making him shiver with pleasure. I fucked him long and hard before my orgasm began to rise. His cock throbbed. I could see the moist tip, glistening in the dim light. I lowered my head to kiss him and his lips hungrily took mine in, our tongues wrestling. He wrapped his arms around my neck, all the way until his armpits were on my shoulders, and then we shuddered together and cried out into each other's mouths, as we exploded at the same time. I felt his penis throbbing and pumping out his load against my belly as my own cock spewed my cum into him, twitching and tickling his prostate. He groaned and squealed high in his throat. The noise flowed into my mouth, down into my throat. I pumped the contents of my balls into him, then collapsed on top of him, trying to catch my breath. Bruce started to giggle, overflowing with happiness and glee, and I couldn't help chuckling myself to see him so elated, to feel so elated there clutched to him. Bruce became insatiable, and as he became hungrier, our behavior became riskier. Our showers became quick jack off sessions, soaping each others' cocks and pumping them wildly. We did it silently beneath the jets of water, listening carefully for footsteps. It was stupidly dangerous. One time, after arriving at the beach for an all camp swim, Bruce announced loudly that he had forgotten his swim trunks--it had slipped his mind, he said, he hadn't realized while he was wrapping his towel around his waist that those were his blue denim shorts he had on, not his swim trunks. He pulled on my hand and asked me if I could take him back to the cabin to change. He had an entirely somber expression on his face, chiding himself for his absent- mindedness, apologizing to me for the inconvenience. If I hadn't known better, I would never have guessed that he had an ulterior motive. I looked over at a counselor who had been standing listening and before I could ask, he volunteered to tend to the rest of my kids. Bruce took my hand and we started up toward the cabin. "We don't have much time, you know," I said. "What are you thinking about?" Bruce smiled up at me, then looked back at the path ahead of him. "We'll be real fast," he said confidently. "I know what I wanna do already." "Care to share it with me?" Bruce looked up at me and stuck his tongue out, hard and pointed, and waved the tip of it at me suggestively. "You," he whispered conspiratorially. "Me?" I didn't understand. He nodded vigorously. "I'm gonna.....ya know...." He rolled his eyes and glanced around. "I'm gonna do you." He stuck his tongue out again past his handsome grin. I felt a shiver go down my spine. "You do?" He laughed and nodded. "I like it and I have a few ideas I wanna try." He suddenly sounded so scientific. I was happy to be his guinea pig. Inside the cabin, Bruce quickly unsnapped and unzipped his shorts and dropped them to his ankles. His white briefs buldged at the front. He stepped out of the shorts and peeled off the briefs. He was totally naked now and reaching for my trunks. He tugged at my hard dick through the fabric, then pulled my trunks out and down. My cock bounced to attention, pointing at him like a loaded gun. His eyes brightened at the sight of it and it turned me on all the more. I sat down on my bed and he knelt between my legs, elbows on my knees. He took my cock in both hands and touched it all over, sending my whole body into an electric frenzy. I moaned in my throat. He kissed the head gently and smiled up at me, then darted his tongue out to swipe at the underside. I heaved a sigh that seemed to last forever and I heard him giggle, amused and excited at my response. I leaned back on my elbows and watched him lick me with a fluttering tongue, around the tip, down the shaft, back up again to the head. He was breathing heavily and I realized that while one of his hands were holding onto my cock, pulling it to his mouth, the other hand was down below, tugging on his own dick with fast, hurried strokes. He mashed his wet lips on my cock and sucked the side of it, sliding up and down, a new trick that felt delicious. He watched me through his bangs that hung down his forehead. He made a tentative attempt to get my cock into his mouth. He seemed to know when it struck his teeth because he pulled back slightly, managing to stuff about half of my hard rod inside. His cheeks puffed and he gagged a few times, face red with effort. I groaned. "Oh, God, yeah!" I panted. He was eating it greedily, as if the feel of it in his mouth was stimulating some mysterious gland on his tongue, driving him crazy with passion and lust. He bobbed his head up and down over me, my cock sliding past his small, pink lips. His tongue fluttered against the underside of it and drove me wild. I reached down and took his head in my hands, toying with his small ears, following the bob, up and down, in and out, sliding, slipping in his lovely mouth. He was working furiously on his own cock at the same time. I felt the vibration of a moan course through my prick. His little fingers fondled my balls like they were precious eggs. I was feeling my balls boil and I thrust my hips up into his face without thinking. To my surprise, Bruce groaned loudly and pulled his head back just enough to keep from gagging. I thrust again, holding on to his head and, after a few attempts, managed to establish a fucking rhythmn into his mouth, going only so deep so as not to choke him. Bruce closed his eyes and relaxed his mouth. His body tensed up as he jacked off, back straightening while his shoulders were hunched over my plunging penis. My juices were rising, suddenly flowing, about to pop. "Here I come," I warned. I let go of his head and put my hands on his shoulders, but he didn't remove his mouth from my cock. "Here I come," I grunted again. The sperm shot out and into his mouth. I thought he would be surprised and spit it out, but he kept his head still, his lips sealed around my shaft, as I filled his mouth. I flowed and flowed. He swallowed and a bit oozed from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were heavy-lidded and lost, oblivious, as his arm flew below, and he grunted and jerked his whole body as he reached his own climax. While his twitching dick spewed his pearls on the floor beneath my bed, the last of my load pumped into his mouth. When he was empty, he lay his head on my pelvis, my cock still in his mouth, as it slowly went limp between his lips. We stayed like that for several moments and I had to sit up and reach down to lift him up and off my cock. I pulled him up against me and kissed his lips, dripping with my sperm. He was smiling already, even chuckling proudly to himself. "You are amazing!" I said breathlessly. "You're magical! God-like!" I meant every word. Bruce was more than I ever dreamed of. "That was awesome!" He buried his face against my collarbone and curled up on my lap, his half-hard penis dripping still, into a fetal position, warm like a quilt. I hugged him long and hard. He sat up suddenly, looking into my face, still grinning. "I made you cum," he said triumphantly. "It isn't the first time, you know," I replied. "Yeah but this time I did it all." He was beaming with pride and I was euphoric with love for him. "Yes," I said. "I am a slave to you, boy. A very happy slave." I tweaked his nipple and he giggled. "Now we have to get back to the beach."