Date: 13 Dec 1998 08:18:15 -0800
From: poondu@members.gayweb.com
Subject: The Havens

The Havens
by Thole <poondu@members.gayweb.com>

When I'd finally arrived the night before it was dark after long 
delays in traffic construction and tortuous serpentine narrow 
secondary roads with a profound lack of signs. The GPS was most 
remarkable in finding the front gate of this camp which in the end 
had a large welcoming sign. Upon completing the registration process 
the rather portly gentleman who'd buzzed me in and now stood behind 
the counter directed me to a slender youth draped against the chill 
night in a long pull-over. I could see by the way his garment clung 
to his lean frame that he had nothing on under it but beyond that I 
was not attracted to him and this I think he sensed; but in any case 
he was friendly and attractive--if only he'd been ten years younger. 
The young man mounted an electric cart and led me off between rows of 
closely arranged permanent trailers and prefabs to find my site for 
the next three days. 

After helping me park and get connected to the services he said by 
way of good bye that he hoped I would not mind, that he would send my 
boy around in the morning, it was already too late, the kid was 
asleep. Before I had a chance to formulate a question he was gone. 

In the morning I was up with the sun--which is not saying as much now 
in September as it was back in June and July. It was a cool dawn, the 
warm sun streamed in through the east windows but the heat was on 
anyhow. I made coffee and went to sit outside. No boy appeared but 
eventually this same youth, nude this time, bicycled up the rise. His 
cock bouncing from side to side across the horn of his saddle was 
certainly exciting him and as he dismounted under my awning he 
swatted at his tumescence saying --down boy, down. And immediately it 
subsided. 

--I saw last night that you had a bike, he said, so I thought I'd 
come round that way, instead of with a golf cart, and take you for a 
bit of a show around. The boy who is supposed to be here is proving a 
bit recalcitrant. 

Tony led me back the way we'd come last night to a place where 
several kids were playing on a wooden junglegym and swings. They were 
in various states of dress, between 4 and 6 years, but for one who 
looked 10 or 12, red haired, blue shorts. Freckles accented the light 
tan of his shoulders and thighs. We stopped our bikes on the road 
above the play yard and a couple of the younger boys waved and called 
out to Tony. His elbow touched mine as he said: --What do you think? 
Pick one. 

The red-head, I answered, I'd like to see if he has an all over tan.

Good choice, Tony said, that's the lad who's supposed to be with you. 
Its his turn to be the guest-boy. 

I asked him what that meant and Tony explained that the office of 
guest-boy was a chore-responsibility-privlege that rotated among the 
10-12 year-old members. This weekend was the big volley ball 
tournament at White Wolf camp and all the other older kids were there 
to serve on the youth team. Kevin, that's the red-head's name, is one 
of the better players and so he is particularly unhappy to have 
pulled guest-boy duty this weekend. 

Kevin! I hollered, come here. 

The boy snapped round at the sound of a strange voice calling his 
name and Tony waved him to come up to us. The boy shrugged to his 
playmates and walked up the rise, his bare feet shushing through the 
first of the fallen autumn leaves. Tony introduced us and reminded 
the lad of his responsibility. The boy looked at me with firey green 
eyes that said if I hadn't called ahead for reservations there'd have 
been no guests this weekend and he'd have been away instead of 
standing here being angry about it. 

Tony broke the ice by getting off his bike--it was a fine rugged 
machine, as electric blue as the boys shorts--and offering it to 
Kevin: --Here Kevin, I'll trade; your shorts for my bike, just for 
the weekend, eh, and you can show our guest around. The boy's anger 
dissipated with a broad smile as he quickly kicked his shorts to the 
ground and then flipped them with one violet painted toe up to Tony 
who put them upside down on his head like a chieftain's headdress. 

--This guy's got a really cool van, he said to Kevin, you're really 
gonna have a good time. 

The newly naked lad biked off with me; his all-over tan just as I'd 
hoped. We rode side by side on the gravel roads and he pointed out 
all the features of The Havens. --The showers ain't so great 'cept 
for the one at the pool. You can't really get together under them cos 
someone's always gotta hold the water on. 

Was that a hint I wondered to myself as I told him I could fix that. 
I already had when I took a shower last night. There was just a 
shower wall across from the van. Not even a full blown toilet, just a 
wall, and enough of a box to hold the water heater. Hot and Cold taps 
graced the wooden wall but the shower head had been replaced by one 
of those kitchen sink spray nozzle hoses. A water conservation 
measure Tony had said earlier. Later I'll show you how, I said in 
response to Kevin's question, perhaps I can get you to wash my back. 

--I'll wash yours if you'll wash mine, he said, as long as I don't 
have to hold the water on at the same time. 

I asked what this guest thing was all about and he went off with a 
long story of his last turn when the guest he had to wait on was 
some fat old man who only wanted to drink beer and lay in the sun 
like some blubbery, smelly elephant seal. At night all he wanted to do 
was watch some stupid movies and drink beer and pee. 

Usually, he said, the guest-boy shows the new arrival to his site and 
helps him set up and then takes him around the camp and shows him 
where all the things are. Then he's on call if the guest wants 
anything. Anything? I asked. --Ya, this green eye'd devil smiled, 
like taking out the garbage, or getting a bag of ice, or guiding him 
on the nature trail, or anything else he wants; some of the older 
kids even do massages and things. Do you do massages? I asked. He 
said he hadn't learnt how yet so I said I'd be happy to teach him. 

--Cool! he said. 

Fancy that you should mention elephant seals, I said. I've just come 
from where they live and have lots of show&tell stuff you can look at 
and I have a couple of videos you might find pretty exciting. 

--Cool! he said again. 

We spent the rest of the morning riding around the camp, through 
mowed fields and trails, racing sometimes and then other times 
stopping to rest in the grass. I took a few opportunities to show him 
some massaging techniques--feet and calves, shoulders and neck. He 
would occasionally try to hide the erection of his otherwise short 
penis and I would coach him to let it be. Along the way I learnt that 
the reason why most of the kids at this camp, and probably at the 
others as well, wear shorts most of the time outside the pool is that 
its better than having to drag a towell around all the time. And the 
reason why there's hardly any kids over 13 is that most of them have 
hard-ons all the time and they get embarrassed. Too bad people are so 
hung up about germs and sanitation that kids have to carry towells; 
or for that matter, that anyone has to have a towell around all the 
time. 

Back at the van we had a late lunch and I laid him out on the picnic 
table outside and demonstrated more massaging. After a nap we went to 
the pool and then a walk along some of the nature trails we'd ridden 
earlier. All too soon it seemed the afternoon was getting chilly as 
the shadows lengthened. Back at the van again he helped me cook 
supper and we ate together. He was mine to do with as I would as long 
as he wanted to stay with me so we were making the best of it. 

After he'd done the dishes I put on _For A Lost Soldier_ and with 
that playing in the background I got out all my show and tell stuff 
and took him on a tour around the world. When the movie was moving 
into the end game I got out the body lotion and we took turns working 
over each other and nibbling on popcorn. Kevin thought it pretty 
funny when the Canadian soldier pulled the young boy into the shower 
with him then he got pretty serious when the man told the boy he 
thought the boy was something special --Do you think I'm special? he 
asked, looking up at me as I worked on the insides of his thighs. 

He was sitting astride my bum, his lotioned hands massaging my 
shoulders when the soldier leaned over his special friend and the boy 
squinted as if in pain and bit on the man's finger. --What are they 
doing, Kevin asked as he leaned over me, his heaving chest sliding in 
the lotion on my back. --What's the soldier doing to him? 

But then in a moment of rapturous discovery, in that event we know of 
as "A-Ha!", he figured it out for himself. 

Later, as he lay beside me, he asked if what he'd done was ok and if 
he had to let me do it to him and did it really hurt the boy. 

And could he do it again.

                                   -30-