Date: Sat, 23 Jun 2007 10:47:58 -0400
From: figleyw@hotmail.com
Subject: Summer Games chapter 01

This fictional story contains sexual acts between boys and men. If this is
not to your tastes, and/or is illegal in your area please do not read any
further.
It was written in the late 1970's.

CHAPTER 1

	Troy Reed stepped out of the shower and pulled his towel from the rack.
Without bothering to dry himself, the tall, blond youth wrapped the terry
cloth towel about his middle and opened the bathroom door. He glanced up and
down the hall. All was clear on the second-floor hall of the Happy Harbor
rooming house.

	The lad took three long steps, and a moment later the half-nude boy was
safely in his room. He ran a comb through his straight hair, allowing it to
fall aimlessly over his scalp and forehead. He tossed the comb on his chest
of drawers and stretched out on the bed, eyes closed and arms folded behind
his head.

	He let out a sigh as a cool ocean breeze swept in through the open window.
His smooth, full chest rose and fell, and his big, brown tits stiffened as
the cool air moved over his damp body. The boy felt his cock stir under the
towel. A smile began to grow on his handsome face. "To beat it or not to
beat it, that is the question."

	The young cock began to lengthen.

	"Come on, Cock, let me rest. It's not easy being a lifeguard-sitting in the
hot sun all day and watching all the young studs surfing and swimming and
horsing around on the sand."

	His cock was at full staff now, its huge outline very visible under the
towel, running up his belly and reaching for his navel. Troy was about to
remove the restraining cloth when the phone rang. He reached for the
instrument on the small night table. "Hello?"

	No answer, but Troy could hear someone breathing into the mouthpiece at the
other end. "Hello?" he repeated, louder.

	"Teach me how to jerk off." The voice was that of a young boy. It sounded
hushed and strained.

	"Who the hell is this?" Troy asked, his own voice hushed as if he were
suddenly part of a conspiracy.

	There was a slight pause. "Teach me how to jerk off," the young voice
repeated. Troy was beginning to get turned on.

	"How old are you?" he asked, continuing to speak in a low voice which added
to the erotic conversation.

	"Thirteen," came the answer.

	"You ever beat your meat before?"

	"No. Teach me how. Please," the young boy pleaded.

	"Where are you?" Troy wanted to know.

	"Home. Alone."

	"Is your cock out?"

	"Well, take your pants down."

	A moment later, "Is your cock hanging free now?"

	"No," the kid responded. "I got my Jockeys on."

	The picture of the young boy standing at the telephone in his Jockey
shorts, with his pants around his ankles, flashed through Troy's head, and
his own cock began to throb.

	"Well, pull them down, buddy."

	"Okay, Troy, my cock is hanging free now." The fact that the boy used his
name did not go unnoticed by the blond lifeguard, but Troy was too sexed up
to question the kid and try to find out who he was.

	"You got any bush hair?"

	"Sure, Troy. It started growing last winter."

	"Well, run your fingers through it," Troy told him.

	The boy giggled. "It feels good."

	"Sure it does," Troy responded. "Now play with your balls."

	"You mean just feel 'em?" the kid asked.

	"Roll them around in your hand and give 'em a good squeeze."

	"Man," the voice said, "that's boss. It's making my cock stiff as a ball
bat."

	"That's how it should be, buddy. Now fist your tool."

	"I got it Troy. My fist is wrapped around my prong."

	"You got any skin?" Troy wanted to know.

	"No. You got skin, Troy?"

	"Yeah," Troy told him. "I never had it tipped."

	"I'll bet you got a big cock, Troy," the boy said, not trying to hide the
hero worship he felt for the lifeguard.

	"About seven inches," Troy told him. "How big is your joy stick?"

	"I've got almost six inches."

	"Not bad for a thirteen-year-old. Are you whacking off?"

	"Yeah, Troy. I'm beating it while I'm talking to you. Are you whacking
yours?"

	"No, but I will be in a minute." And, true to his word, the blond youth
removed the towel from his middle and quickly fisted his big cock. The head
was half capped, but the boy quickly skinned it back until the big, mushroom
cockhead was in full view.

	"I just skinned it back, buddy, and now I'm pumping with you."

	"Good, Troy. I'm really whacking hard. It makes my balls bounce around."

	"What a hot fuck," Troy panted, his fist flying up and down his long shaft.

	"I'm almost there, Troy," the kid moaned. "I'm almost there."

	"Me too, buddy. Me too."

	Troy heard a loud groan, and then a long hum on the other end of the phone.
A second later his own cock exploded, sending a long stream of hot jism into
the air, followed by three or four jet sprays of the white liquid. The
lifeguard grunted and moaned as the released fluid sent wave after wave of
delightful thrills gushing through his body.

	"You made it too, eh, Troy?" the kid panted into the phone.

	Troy squeezed his cock until the last bubble of cum juice dribbled out of
his prick and ran over the fleshy cockhead. "Yeah. I made it too."

	Click.

	Troy put down the phone and used his bath towel to wipe the spunk off his
belly and chest.

	"Shit," he said aloud. "Now I'm a phone freak. Wait till Bob hears about
this."

	As soon as all the lights in the cabin were out, counselor Bob Willis began
to undress. The night was still and the only sound which filtered through
the plywood walls of the cabin was the constant chorus of crickets. Inside
the dark room, the hushed whispers and heavy breathing of twelve boys going
off to sleep gradually died down, giving complete victory to the singing
insects.

	His blue jeans and T-shirt were off in a flash, and Bob stood in his
Jockeys, giving the dark cabin a quick once-over before stretching out on
his cot. The dark-haired boy's hand moved over his smooth chest and made its
way to the elastic band of his shorts. His balls began to tingle in
expectation of the familiar caress.

	I wonder how Troy is making out at Shore Town? His fingers moved under the
elastic and traced the thin line of hair that ran from his belly button to
the thick forest of his bush below. Shame Troy and I couldn't get summer
jobs together. If he was here now... The stud's cock reared up to meet its
master's hand, and like a good animal it was rewarded with a few, quick pats
on the head.

	Skinless wonder. Bob smiled into the dark night as Troy's pet name for
Bob's cock came into his mind. Bob's fist began to work under the crotch of
his Jockeys.

	Where the fuck am I gonna shoot this load? Last night, his first night at
Camp Monmouth, he had tossed himself off in the latrine before going to bed.
In fact, he had walked around with a hard-on for two hours before he was
finally able to release his load.

	The condition was brought about from watching his twelve wards shower
before bedtime. Shit those studs, thirteen and fourteen years old, are
really built. Bob was amazed. Most of them had pieces of meat as big as his
own cock. Twelve hanging cocks attached to slim, handsome bodies, all
horsing around under the showers, had given the counselor a boner which
would not go down until he whacked it off, sending his sperm flying into the
urinal like a white stream of piss.

	The day before, the counselors had done nothing but joke about peter tracks
on the bed sheets. Willis was sure they would get up a peter track
inspecting team, and he was damn sure not going to spend the rest of the
summer being the buff of all the jerk-off jokes which would spread around
the camp.

	The tall boy pulled the sheet off his body and got out of bed. As quietly
as possible he moved toward the screen door of the cabin.

	WHAM!

	Bob almost shit as he collided with another warm body.

	"Sorry about that, sir."

	"Who the hell is it?"

	"Me, sir."

	"Who the fuck is me?"

	"Reynolds. Tim Reynolds, sir."

	Bob's eyes began to make out the figure of the blond, crew cut lad who was
one of his wards.

	"What the fuck are you doing out of bed, Reynolds?" Bob asked, covering his
boner with both hands, although he was sure the kid couldn't see much in the
dark.

	"Going to the piss-house, sir," the kid whispered back.

	"Reynolds, you should piss before you go to bed."

	"I did, sir."

	"And you have to piss again... after a half-hour?"

	"Well... to tell you the truth, sir, one of the buggers in here stole my
rubbers and..."

	"Your rubbers?" Bob was amazed.

	"Yes, sir. My jack-off rubbers."

	"You mean you use rubbers to shoot your load into?"

	"Darn right I do. Last year at this horny place I got caught with peter
tracks on my sheets, and was razed for two solid months."

	"You think most of these kids use rubbers for their jack-offs?" Bob wanted
to know.

	"If they're smart they do," the stud responded. "Hot shit," Bob whispered.
"And you're on your way to toss yourself off in the piss-house?"

	"That's right, sir."

	"One thing I can say about you, Reynolds. You're a truthful son of a
bitch."

	"Ain't no law says you can't whack off."

	"Sure as hell ain't, Reynolds."

	There was a brief silence as the young lad and the kid stood poised by the
screen door. The moon had come up, and by its white light the youths were
outlined standing, facing each other, in their Jockeys, their chests rising
and falling as they sucked in the cool mountain air.

	"Were you gonna piss, sir?" Reynolds asked, his voice an octave lower than
it had been a moment ago.

	It was going to be a long summer, and Bob decided, at that very second,
that he was not going to spend it living like a monk.

	He took hold of the kid's hand and guided it to the fly of his Jockey
shorts. Reynolds was not only truthful, he was also not the least bit shy.
He gave his counselor's ramrod a long squeeze and let out a low whistle.

	"Does that feel like it wants to piss?"

	"No, sir," Reynolds exclaimed.

	Bob tossed his arm over the boy's shoulder. "Come on, buddy. Let's go."

	The latrine was housed in the next cabin. There was a row of six urinals
opposite six toilets, separated by walls but no doors, and to the left, one
huge shower room with twelve sprays. Only night-lights lit the room-bright
enough to see by, but dim enough not to jar the erotic mood of the two
studs.

	The boys stood side by side at two end urinals. The kid began to fumble
with the fly of his shorts. "Pull 'em down," Bob ordered.

	Without looking at Bob, the kid pulled his shorts down below his cock and
with two fingers he held the erect tool at its base, giving the counselor a
full view of his equipment. The blond kid had a master weapon. The neatly
circumcised rod was long and thick, with a slight upward curve and a fleshy
piss-hole which now looked directly up at Bob Willis.

	The kid began to fist his joystick as he looked directly at Bob's extended
crotch. The older boy pulled his shorts down, over his hips, and allowed the
kid an unobstructed view of his cock and balls.

	The kid's fist began to move faster, and his left hand began to play with
his balls. Willis started pulling his own big cock, teasing it with long and
slow strokes as his free hand reached over and toyed with Tim's ass.

	"Feel good, buddy?" Bob asked.

	"Shit yeah," the kid answered.

	"You don't mind my hand on your ass, do you?"

	The boy shook his head. "It feels good."

	Encouraged, Bob's hand began to probe until his middle finger found the
kid's back door.

	"You wanna fuck me?"

	"Think you can take it?" Bob wanted to know, pointing his seven inches at
the kid.

	Timmy grinned. "Are you kidding, man? I've been ass-fucking for almost a
year now."

	"I didn't know we had an advanced group at Camp Monmouth," Bob responded,
now prodding the kid's A-hole with his finger.

	"You ain't seen nothing yet, Mr. Willis. The summer has just started." With
this the kid bent over and took Bob's cock in his mouth. He tongued it as if
it were a lollipop, and lavished it with all the saliva he could muster up.

	The kid was a real pro. First he worked the cock deep into his throat, and
then his lips encircled the rim as his tongue gave the cockhead a wild bath.
"Easy, you little cocksucker, I'll pop off," Bob moaned, urging the boy's
lips off his cock. "You wanna bend over?"

	"Sit on the toilet and keep your legs close together," the kid told him.
Bob obeyed willingly, and a drop of cum juice bubbled out of his piss-hole
as Tim, facing the seated boy, straddled his legs, spread his ass-buns wide
and began to lower himself atop the veined pole.

	The boy's A-hole made contact with the cockhead. "Slide down on it, you
little bugger," Bob hissed, taking hold of the kid's waist.

	"That's just what I had in mind," the boy responded, pushing his ass down
on the slippery prong. The tight passage engulfed Bob's cockhead, and a
shiver of joy shot through the sitting boy's body as his fuck-mate began to
press his weight on the eager tool, shoving down until it was half buried up
the sucking hole.

	"Shit, you're gonna split me in two," the kid moaned. Bob, holding the kid
firmly at the hips, pushed downward and sent his entire cock flying up the
warm A-hole.

	Tim let out a groan, his head falling forward on his fucker's shoulders as
the base of his ass settled on Bob's big balls.

	"You all right?" Bob panted.

	"Crazy man, crazy," the kid told him.

	"Well, start riding it, cowboy."

	Tim's feet were planted firmly on the ground, and his hands clung to Bob's
shoulders. He began to raise and lower himself on the slippery pole which so
delightfully impaled him.

	Bob could hardly contain himself. He wiggled his ass on the toilet seat and
ground his hips upward to meet the boy's downward stroke. "What a wild fuck!
Come on, you little bastard, take it-take it all!"

	"What the fuck you think I'm doing?"

	"I bet you could take my fuckin' balls up your hole, too," Bob grunted.

	The kid rode up and down on the quivering cock, letting it clear out of his
ass, except for the head, and then sinking down on the tool till Bob's balls
ached under the fucker's weight. The kid's cock and balls lay on Bob's
belly, and now the older boy began to toy with the thick piece of meat.

	"Can you suck it?" Tim urged.

	Bob tried to get his head down between their two bodies, but couldn't reach
it. "I can't make it," he panted. "Come on, you little bugger, fuck."

	The kid moved like a piston. "Fuck, Bob. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he shouted.
Bob's hips moved faster as the kid quickened his fuck strokes. "I'm coming,
baby. I'm coming," Bob moaned.

	"Let it fly. Cream me. Cream me."

	Willis let out a small yell as his spunk erupted up the kid's ass. Jet
after jet it came out, filling the fucker's A-hole until it spilled out and
covered Bob's balls. "How sweet. How sweet." Bob groaned, grabbing hold of
the boy and covering his chest with wet kisses.

	"Jack me off. Quick, jack me off," Tim cried.

	His half-limp rod was still buried in the kid as Bob took hold of the young
cock and began to work it over. The boy squeezed his asshole over the limp
cock inside him, and pumped his hips against Bob's fast-moving fist.

	"I'm there. Oh, shit, I'm there," the kid sobbed as his head fell back and
his bursting prong sprayed Bob's face and chest with cum juice.

	The boy fell on Bob and they stuck together with the kid's sticky spunk.

	Shit. Bob thought. Wait until Troy hears about this.

(continued)