Date: 23 Sep 1998 05:27:37 -0700
From: poondu@members.gayweb.com
Subject: Another Boy Learning to Swim

Another Boy Learning to Swim 
by Thole <poondu@members.gayweb.com>

This one was not my favourite shape or quality--camp nor boy. The 
land was too close to the highway, you could see through the fence 
the cars speeding by though their occupants could not see us watching 
them through the woods. The place is wooded, hilly, a couple of 
streams, gravel roads, and most interesting, has a different rule 
regarding nudity and towels: nudity is optional, but towels are not 
required. The result of this is that most of the kids stayed nude 
here while in many other camps kids wear shorts because it is easier 
than dragging around a towel to sit on. The place is crowded though 
the surrounding wood has some fair hiking and riding trails albeit 
some parts of the trails are in view of the local road or the 
interstate. 

In was in one such place I met this boy. I'd seen him around the 
pool, but not in it, and in the playground, riding his bike. A 
smallish boy, close cropped hair, wore glasses, shorts, sneakers. 
There were a few other kids, all younger, more often in the pool, so 
he seemed to be pretty much alone but also aloof. He was just about 
the only one of his set with anything on.

I explored around the first day, rode my bike on the trails, looked 
at the wells, played chicken along the edge of the roads, watched the 
kids, sunned at the pool. This particular boy never came into the 
pool, at least I never saw him there and the pool rules require kids 
to swim with a buddy and an adult must be present. On Saturday I 
started out to walk the trails, barefoot as is my wont and of course 
here at this camp bare assed as well. It occured to me that it is a 
lot safer to spend money on membership to such a place as this than 
it is to risk it in the porn market. Then it occured to me that I'm 
not interested in porn anyhow, most of that stuff is perverse anyhow. 
But a love of boys in all their glory--how can that be anything but 
right and beautiful and best in real life. 

The boy was laying on his back, along a log over a slough, his legs 
hanging down on either side, one arm shielding his eyes from the 
shaft of brilliant sunlight, his other arm helping his hand with the 
erection that nine year-olds find so fascinating. The roar of traffic 
not two hundred feet away covered my approach. Anyone walking along 
the breakdown lane could have espied this lovely sight but tho I 
could see the faces of passengers in the cars going past they were 
all going too fast to see the boy even if they were to be looking 
down along the stream. 

When I was close enough for him to hear me over the traffic a 
snapping twig alerted him and he sat up abruptly, nearly falling into 
the stream. He was not wearing his glasses and I guess for him the 
forest was a blur of green and shadows--he could not see me. --Are 
you a deer, he asked? I'm not afraid, he said. 

Now I could see his bike, shorts and glasses piled on the rack, in 
the woods at the end of the log as he started to inch his way towards 
them so I stepped out of the shadows and sat on the end of the log, 
in his way, where he could see me. --You're the visitor guy, he said, 
I seen you watching me on the swings. 

May I sit and chat with you, I asked? --Don't look at me now please, 
he begged as he tried to grip the log with his slender thighs and 
cover his crotch with both hands, look the other way. 

But you are so beautiful, why must I look away? --Do you really think 
I'm beautiful? Well, if you prefer I could say handsome since you are 
a boy but you are more like an angel and angels are beautiful. --But 
I'm naked, he said. And all the more beautiful because of it, I said. 

I turned back to him and worked my way out til our knees touched. 
give me your hands, I said, and he did and I held them away on each 
side of us. You have nothing to be ashamed of my dear little angel, 
your hardon only adds to your beauty. Stand up and let me look at all 
of you. 

He stood on the log while I held his hand. His balance was good and 
he turned around slowly just inches away. We worked our way back off 
the log towards his bike but when he went to don his shorts I asked 
if he would stay naked, to keep me company, to show everyone he was 
no longer afraid. Let's go to the pool I suggested. --I can't swim, 
he interrupted. I'll teach you how, I said, I'll hold you up and help 
you. 

I held him up in the water with one hand under his crotch, cupping 
the essence of his boyhood, as he practiced the crawl and gained 
confidence with kicking. I held him close to my chest, one hand under 
his shoulders, the other under his bum, and as he floated on his back 
I thumbed his crack. Relax I said, let your arms hang down, and his 
hand brushed against my cock and he gave it a quick squeeze. 

By evening he could swim tolerably well, good enough to join in the 
games of the other kids tomorrow. But in the meantime? --You've 
really helped me a lot, he said. I can swim now and I'm not afraid or 
ashamed to be naked now. What can I do to repay you? 

Let me count the ways, I thought... 

                                   -30-