Date: Fri, 23 Nov 2012 05:29:10 -0800 (PST) From: Joe Hunter <hunterjoe45@yahoo.com> Subject: Football Team Pack Trip All the usual disclaimers apply: +This story is a work of fiction. If you think it is real, you have a very active imagination. +Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do so. +Scenes of sexual activity between an adult male and young boys are represented. Do not read further if this offends you. +Please do not imitate the actions portrayed herein - the author cannot accept responsibility for any actions promoted by this story. If you would like to get in touch, please e-mail me at: hunterjoe45@yahoo.com To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with contributions and keep the Archive online. Check the Nifty home page for ways to make contributions. Without this Archive those of us who write for you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks and a "Tip of the Hat" to my friend Karl, who gave me ideas for this story and helped edit the draft. Thank you Karl! Support Nifty! Joe ____________________________ FOOTBALL TEAM PACK TRIP (copyright 2012, Joe Hunter) "Come on, Aaron! You gotta' show us!" Silvery moonlight gleams on Brick's half-naked young body as he grins at the other boy huddled, covered up in the sleeping bag. "No, I don't. I got my pants off. That's enough." "Uh-uh. You gotta' show us." Brick turns to me in appeal. "Coach, don't he gotta' show us?" The full moon shining on our meadow campsite is bright enough to show Brick's streaked blond hair and mischievous grin. Shirtless, he is kneeling up in his sleeping bag, the little swells of muscle and bone in his small whipcord lean body etched by the moon's silvery light. A perfect sculpted image. Nearby, Aaron is shirtless, too, but he is huddled shyly down in his sleeping bag. "He gotta show us, Coach!" another boy says. This one and two others are also in sleeping bags, but their shirts are on. A sixth boy, Seth, is in my sleeping bag with me. Like Brick and Aaron, his shirt is off and the moonlight glistens on his smooth hairless body. Beneath a fold of the sleeping bag my arm is around his slim waist and I give him a hug before answering Brick. "It's up to you guys to make the rules. Seems to me that in strip poker, when you lose, you gotta' strip and show it." Little Brick's grin widens. "Let's see it, Aaron! You gotta' show us!" But Aaron is squirming with embarrassment. "I don't wanna'!" "He got a boner," the second boy tells Brick with a grin. "He don't want us to see it. Aaron, you gotta' hard-on, don't ya." "No I don't!" But this gets drowned out by the giggling laughter of the others. "Aaron got a boner... Aaron got a boner..." chants the second boy. "You wouldn't wanna show it, if you had one," Aaron whines. "Who wouldn't?" Brick looks around with a defiant grin. "I don't care. I got one now. I'll show it." This declaration silences the group, and they all look at him. Brick is smaller and younger, but the best athlete by far. Despite his lack of size, he is first-string quarterback and the acknowledged leader. Now they watch as he fumbles around inside his sleeping bag, gets up on his knees to show that he is naked, and then thrusts hips forward to display a small rigidly hard boy stick jutting from his hairless groin. "Come on, Aaron," he tells the other boy. "Now you." Hesitantly Aaron gets to his knees, holding the folds of his sleeping bag around himself. After a shy look at the other boys he lets the folds drop, revealing a smooth young body, not as graceful and sharply defined as Brick's, but strong and well formed. Sticking out from his smooth crotch is a stiff boy pole, longer and thicker than Brick's, jutting upward in a slight curve. "There. See? I said I had my pants off." Aaron tells the others this in a tone of injured innocence, then looks to me for approval. I nod and smile at him. "I believed you, Aaron." The strip game goes on for some time, with occasional referrals to me as referee, and it turns out they are all hard beneath their clothes, every boy grinning as he uncovers himself. Brick, who knows how well-built he is and loves to show it off, remains naked. He keeps getting up on his knees to display the hard little boner thrust out in jutting rigidity from his groin. They are all at an age where the changes occurring in their growing bodies fascinate them, so the game would probably have continued until dawn in different variations if exhaustion from a full day of hiking and swimming had not overwhelmed them at last. As they finally quiet down in their sleeping bags I tell them some stories and soon a few are asleep. But the moon's light still glistens on the open eyes of Brick and Aaron when I say, "You guys need to get some rest." "C'mon, Coach," Brick pleads. "Tell us some more." "Next time. Now it's time for you to sleep." Aaron raises his head. "You're gonna' be right here, ain't you, Coach?" "Right here," I assure him. "If you need anything, you just wake me up. It's OK." "Coach ain't gonna' let nothin' happened to us," Brick says confidently. I smile at him. "Go to sleep now. We got a big day tomorrow." Snuggled next to me in my sleeping bag, Seth has been naked ever since he first got in, only pretending to remove his clothes in the strip poker game. Not quite a year older than Brick, taller, Seth is a quiet shy boy, very much a follower and not a leader. After waiting a moment to be sure everyone else is settled, he helps me remove my pants so I can be naked with him. Then he comes into my arms, smooth warmth pressing to mine. Seth loves to be held like this, content to lie for hours with my arms around him, listening to stories or just talking about drawing and reading, things he likes to do. He loves sports, too - soccer and football his favorites - although I know that Seth's slender willowy body is never going to be sturdy enough for Middle School football. In the future, soccer will be where he competes. Once I am sure we are concealed by the folds of the sleeping bag, I press my lips to Seth's pale blonde hair, breathing in its scent. He lets it grow long in the back, its strands silky, like gossamer; still smelling of the mountain pine that surrounded us when we lay that afternoon by the top of the waterfall, high above the pool where the others were swimming. It is fall, the seasons are changing, but this Indian Summer day has been warm enough so that, after the hike into our mountain camp site, the boys spent most of the afternoon naked in the sunshine, splashing and playing tag in the water, or diving off the rock ledges on the cliff overhang. As Seth hugs me I slide a palm up and down the hollow of his spine, remembering him perched on a boulder beside the pool, his slim body sylphlike, delicate, with a dancer's elegant grace. He is very different from Brick, whose compact defined leanness has the spectacular beauty of sculpted perfection. Swimming naked in the rocky pool, Brick could have been a model for the young Paris, still an undiscovered herd boy, sunning himself nude amid Priam's flocks, all unknowing of the doom awaiting both him and Troy. In our sleeping bag, Seth's feet tangle with mine, and then the boy pushes a hand down between us to take hold of my stiff erection. It is a signal that he wants me to do the same, and as I move my hand onto his rigid boner I feel a tingle of anticipation pass through the lad. Seth is more developed then Brick; more developed than any of the other boys. His stiff boy rod is nearly adult size, yet his groin is still completely smooth, just like all the rest of his silky body. I rub him, enjoying the thick feel of his shaft, so hard it is quivering with his heartbeats. The boy makes the tiniest of sounds, a little catch of his breath, and rubs me as well, sliding his fingertips up over my blunt tip. We keep stroking each other, careful not to betray what we are doing by too much movement, until with a soft moan Seth quivers, jerking a little, the throbs pulsating in his jutting rock-hard shaft. He lifts his face to mine, wanting to be kissed, and gently I press my lips to closed eyelids, nose, a cheek, molded chin. The boy's sensitive features... his blond locks and long curving lashes framing expressive eyes... all combine to give Seth a look of ethereal beauty, made even lovelier by the artless grace of his slim body. He is a golden boy. Old enough to love and be loved... trembling now in his eagerness for me as our lips touch... opening his mouth so I can thrust in my tongue... Just a few hours before, Seth was clinging to me, writhing, crying out with passion as we twisted together in the sunlit clearing amid the pines, high above the pool. I can tell he wants me again now, but that must wait until the daylight brings another opportunity for us to be alone. Here, with the others present, we must remain quiet. Seth loves me with all his soul, and is very proud that I love him in return. But in his boy's way he would rather die than have the others know. After a long slow kiss, in which he squirms his hips to rub his throbbing shaft against my hip, he turns over slowly, careful to make as little noise as possible. When he stretches out on his side, butt nestled in my groin, I stroke him, rubbing a palm over the smooth sweep of his tummy, his slim chest. Finally my palm caresses down his flank to the hollow of taut lean waist. The boy is all silky warmth... glossy... delicate... young body without flaw. His heated flesh smells of the coconut oil I spread on him that afternoon to make him glisten in the Sun. Reaching back Seth takes hold of my jutting rod, pushing the blunt tip between the mounds of his butt, where it slides easily onto the rim of his puckered opening. Squirming a little, he adjusts himself, thrusts back to take me in... his breaths catching in a tiny sound, "Ahh..." as my blunt tip enters him. Careful to make almost no noise, I put an arm around his slim waist. Pulling him toward me, my full length slips up into the boy almost without effort. His ring is stretched by the forcing done to him by an older cousin when he was eight and nine. At first, although he wanted to give himself to me, Seth was frightened of being hurt again. With patient tenderness I showed him how it could be very different. Since then, fears overcome, Seth's boyish passion has blossomed like an opening flower. Now he wants my fullness in him at every opportunity chance presents us -- opportunities that never come as often as either of us wants. It is primarily for him that I have arranged this football team camping trip. Seth tenses, then releases his breath in a soft, nearly inaudible sigh of pleasure as the full thickness of my shaft fills him. Beneath the arm I hold around his waist I feel the bulge of my tip deep in his lower belly. The boy writhes, accommodating to the impaling fullness. I glide my free hand across a glossy smooth swell of hip to Seth's hairless groin, where his straining boyhood juts hard and quivering. As I begin to rub, the boy's head pulls back and he shudders in ecstasy, feet twisting as sensation floods his slim form. Always, when he spends the night, Seth wants to be held like this, safely encircled in my arms, my fullness up in him, my hands caressing his smooth silky warmth. As my fingers move in slow steady rhythm on his shaft, the boy tenses again and again, throbs pulsing in the rigid boner. At last I hear him start to pant, then he arches, pulsations rippling through his loins. With a tiny cry, which he cannot suppress, Seth jerks, powerful contractions throbbing in his straining shaft, spurts of boy cream shooting into my palm. I spread the slippery warmth over Seth's smooth hard tummy while he catches his breath, head pulled back against my chest. Gradually his breathing slows and he squirms, pushing himself down on my thrusting rod as far as he can. Then as I pet him, stroking my hands on the satiny sheen of flanks and chest, the boy drops off into sleep. Very slowly, careful not to disturb him, I pull back a fold of the sleeping bag so I can peer out. The moon is sliding off toward the mountain peaks in the west, but there is still enough of its silvery light to see the huddled forms of the other boys in their sleeping bags. The night is so still I can hear the sound of one of them muttering and then turning over in some dream. From where Brick and Aaron are lying close together comes the sibilant hiss of whispering. Someday Brick will come to me. I am sure of it. It is in his eyes, just as I saw it in Seth's. Perhaps it will not be during football season. But sometime soon the phone will ring... or there will be a knock at the door... or I will hear the swish of bike tires on my driveway... and it will be him, smiling that special smile, blond hair aflame with light, wearing one of the baggy open sided muscle shirts he likes so much because they show off his lean defined body. I will greet him with a smile of my own, understanding why he has come, and we will go on to the closeness I know he wants... Someday it will happen. But that someday is still in the future -- it will come to pass in its own good time. For now it is the boy in my arms who needs me. Seth stirs and I kiss his hair, soothing him. Soon I know I will fall asleep, and have a vivid dream, and release into him. Then he will want to snuggle close and be held all through the rest of the night. Tomorrow, when the sun is high, and the rest of the boys are playing a hide and seek adventure game, we will sneak off the way we did today and I will pleasure the lad in all the ways he wants... amid the scent of pine... the mountain peaks around us, standing like sentinels against the sky. Peering out from the sleeping bag I look up at the stars wheeling majestically in the heavens. Boyhood is fleeting! Sunlit days fly by all too quickly -- there and then gone, never to be again. But Seth and I, we will take advantage of every single day that is given to us, laying them up in the storehouse of memory to play back like old movies in the winters that will come. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you'd like to comment, my e-mail address is: hunterjoe45@yahoo.com I will try to answer all serious mailings. My on-line access is very limited. Rants and ravings will not get consideration. To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with contributions and keep the Archive online. Check the Nifty home page for ways to make contributions. Without this Archive those of us who write for you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out. So far I have two other football stories you might like: "Fall Football" and "Little Quarterback." You can find links to all my stories on Nifty under my name, Joe Hunter, listed under the J's (for Joe) in the Prolific Authors List. To get that list click the Authors tab at the top of the Nifty home page and then select 'Prolific Authors'. I hope you will read and enjoy! All the Best. Joe