Date: Wed, 19 Feb 2003 06:52:19 -0800 (PST)
From: rodger pepper <backinthehayloftagain@yahoo.com>
Subject: Chesapeake Bay 3

If you are under 18, you should not read this. If reading stories of a
sexual nature are illegal where you are, then don't goddam read this. Get
out and vote!

This story is true, and is from a moment in my life where I was developing
my sexual identity. I am a straight adult, but I was a voraciosly bi
youth. It was all very natural, and I'm not in the least bit ashamed or
unhappy about it. I hadn't really thought about it much since then, until
the past six months, when writing about it on Literotica, The Kristen
Archives, and Nifty, brought it roaring back to my senses. I can taste the
moment, feel it, smell it all over again, just by writing. This, in itself,
is a new experience, and I'm really enjoying it.

If you like the story, feel free to e-mail me, at
backinthehayloftagain@yahoo.com Getting feedback is cool, especially from
those with similar experiences! Don't be shy!

***NOTE*** Writing about my origins as a sexual being does not mean that I
wish to relive them in real life.  If you are under 18 or like to pretend
that you are, please do NOT e-mail me.***Note Further*** While I respect
the aforementioned erotica sites for their total free speech stance, I
protest the acceptance of stories that include any form of non consent or
violence, or any adult to minor contact.  I hope that total free speech
includes my protests.



TIME: The Mid 1970s

PLACE: A Summer Camp On The Chesapeake Bay


When Glen walked in, it was clear that the three of us

had just finished a total suck fest. The bunks were pushed together and we
were on them together, still naked, all twisted all over each other with
our hands on each other's poles and our faces laying across legs

or mid sections.

It was also perfectly natural and normal for Glen to walk in, being that
this bunk room over the kitchen was his for the summer. I was just
surprised that we didn't hear him until he opened the door. The radio was
playing, but it was playing loud music quietly!

Paul and Jerry froze. They knew that Glen and I had been jerk buddies, but
they had no idea how much time we'd spent 69ing already that summer, so
when Glen looked at us with a huge smile and said "Cool!" in a boisterous,
friendly guy way, and I answered back "Hey", with a big grin, they were
relieved, to put it mildly! Then I froze........

Looming out of the shadows of the doorway came 'Capt'n' Mike, assistant
director of the whole summer camp. Mike basically ran the camp and, at 22,
was older, wiser, tougher, faster and more worldly than all of us. He was a
nice guy, and we all liked him, but he was definately part of the grown up
world, and we were still kids compared to him. He had a beautiful
girlfriend who drove a brand new Triumph convertible, who visited him from
Baltimore every week, and it was common knowledge that they were to get
some undisturbed time together during those visits.

"Cheeezus, you guys", Mike said with a big, disarmingly friendly smile,
then told us to just go ahead and head back to our cabins, and added, in a
resposible tone, that we shouldn't really be up here in the first place. We
scrambled to get back into our shorts and t-shirts and sneakers, and tore
passed them

and down the stairs. Halfway across the playing fields I started to howl
with laughter, and the other two did, too. Then Paul and Jerry headed to
their cabin and I headed to mine.

When I got there, I half opened the door and told the Counselor In Charge
that I still had some putting away

to help with over at the kitchen. Everyone was nearly asleep, and he
mumbled some sort of OK, so I dashed back to the scene of the crime. There
was no moon, and I ran like I was in the 100 yard dash.

When I got to the mess hall, I darted around back and quietly opened the
gate into Glen's little enclosed yard, looked up, and saw his inner door
shut. This was

a first, and now I HAD to have a look.

The kitchen bunk house had been built in the early 60s, in a rustic style,
over the flat roofed kitchen that dated from the 50s. There was a nearly 3
foot wide ledge outside the door and windows on 2 sides, and I slid up the
stairs, still smiling and more than a little short of breath, and carefully
knelt out onto

the ledge along the window side and peeked in through the screen and the
slatted wooden interior shutters.

Glen was sitting on the end of the single bunk, feet on the floor, and Mike
was standing in front of him.  Both of them were plenty naked, and so close
to me that I could have reached out and touched either of them. I was so
excited my chest was completely constricted. Glen, a friendly, muscular kid
with a comically tough edge, straight like me, and like Paul, and like
Jerry, and like Mike, I guess (?!), was holding Mike's dick like he had
just caught it while applauding. It was absolutely slathered in vegetable
shortening from the kitchen, so much that it looked like icing, and Glen's

open, extended hands were sliding up and down along the sides of it.

They were talking, quietly, and the tone and cadence sounded like one shy
kid trying to talk another shy kid into asking a pretty girl to dance. Say
it, Mike said. Can't we just do it, Glen asked? You have to say it, Mike
said, friendly but firm. Fuck me, Mike said, looking up sheepishly. Say the
whole thing, or I can't, Mike said back, grinning a giant grin. It was a
bizarre exchange... not aggressive, sort of funny, in an endearing way, if
that makes any sense.

My eyes were huge, and I had my dick out and was stretching it. I could
clearly see where all this was going, and I had never seen two guys screw
before, and

certainly not two straight guys, one of whom I knew pretty well. This was
the 70s, and vid porn didn't exist yet, and we'd never seen ANY guy-guy
porn, anywhere.

Glen's palms were still moving up and down and up and down. His dick was so
much more fully grown up than mine or Jerry's or Paul's or even Glen's, and
Glen had

the biggest I'd ever seen up until now. Please fuck me in my ass, Mike
said, not in a heavy or tough way, more of a whisper, smiling. Please fuck
me in the ass, Glen said, looking up, looking sheepish, but still smiling
that huge smile he got when we messed around.

He rolled back and threw his legs up in the air, letting go of the lathered
dick and rubbing the goo on

his own dick, and reaching further down to massage it into his ass. Mike
put Glen's feet on his shoulders, and poked his dick against the opening of
Glen's butt.

This was all just beyond my nose, and I had never seen

such a thing, though I was certainly no stranger to dick play. Mike started
to roll his hips, but he didn't seem to go in at all, just rolled them with
the

head of his dick against Glen's asshole. Glen started to move in a matching
rythm, and then it almost seemed

like Mike just fell forward. His dick slid in up to the hilt and they both
let out a sort of gasp, and didn't move for what seemed like a full minute
or more.

Then Glen started to roll his hips up, just slightly, then did it again,
then again. Without pulling out at all, Mike started to match his rolls,
then, slowly, I started to see space between them and see his incredible
dick, out, then in, then out, then in.  Then they picked up the pace and it
became a little more forceful, with a little flesh slapping as they met. I
could smell it... not shit but sex, fucking, sweat and shortening and balls
and butts. The slamming was fanning the scent right into my nostrils.


Glen was sliding both hands all over his own dick and balls, over and
over. He was letting go with the most incredible MMMMMPHS!, and smiling
like a dog getting his belly rubbed. On the down slap he started to say
Fuck as he exhaled, over and over. This seemed to push Mike and he started
to really slam and dig forward, raising on his toes, leg muscles all
tensed.  I was on my knees, with my face against the screen, jerking my
pole like carzy.

Glen let go with sounds that I was afraid would be heard by the goddam
cabins, though they were way too far away, and shot across his chest and
some over his shoulder. I shot against the wall below the window, and Mike
went rigid and started to buck and blast into

Glen's ass. The bunk bed was all over the place.

They collapsed onto the bunk, and after a minute, Mike

said with an exhausted grin, You got me to love doin' this... I just LOVE
it! What the hell?!

Glen just groaned a long groan. I just smiled and backed down the stairs
and headed for my cabin.

It was fun to watch, but you wouldn't put one of those goddam things into
my poop chute, no way!