Date: Tue, 26 Jun 2007 10:09:59 -0400 (EDT)
From: Herb Cat <herb_cat@lycos.com>
Subject: Ten-Year Olds at Camp Pt 1

Copyright 2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without
the author's permission.

Please note: this story depicts oral and anal sex between male adults and
male minors. If this offends you or is illegal to publish in your
jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further.

The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments
about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank
you.

-----

Wesley Derrick was busy playing with Gino and Bobby in the park outside
their projects. Typical ten-year olds, they loved clambering over the
monkey bars and chasing each other in a game of tag. Wes was so happy
school was finally out for the summer and he could spend the days
playing.

"Hey, Wes, the big kids just left the court. Let's go shoot some hoops."
Gino and Bobby were already running over to grab a basketball. Wesley,
one of the few caucasians in the park, got along great with everybody,
but his best pals were Gino, the "Italian Stallion," and Bobby, the
"Black Bomber." Their nickname for Wes was the "White Wonder," like
Wonder Bread.

"Wait, what time is it?" Wesley suddenly remembered his promise. "Shit,
Guys, I gotta get home. Mom said she and Dad had a surprise for me. It's
almost four. I promised her I wouldn't be late. Bye. See you tomorrow."
Wesley was a good kid. Sure they were living in the projects and didn't
have much money for fancy things, but Wesley's parents had taught him
respect, both for them and for himself. As he rode the elevator up to the
tenth floor, he wondered what the big surprise would be. He ran to his
door and fished out the key that hung around his neck. "Hi, Mom, I'm
home, what's..."

Wesley stopped suddenly in his tracks. There were his parents sitting on
the sofa, but there were also two men sitting in the living room chairs.
The visitors stood up.

"Mr. Taylor, Dr. Ortiz, this is Wesley. You see, you didn't have to worry
about him being late. He's a very good obedient boy. He won't give you
any trouble." Then turning to her son, she told him to shake hands with
the nice men.

Wesley sat down between his parents on the sofa. The men looked nice
enough. Especially Taylor, who kept smiling at him. He must have been
around 30, a white man with nice dark hair and a well-toned body, from
what Wesley could tell, somewhat like Coach Peters, his PE teacher. The
Doctor was older, but of course to a ten-year old, all grown-ups looked
old. He was hispanic with a sprinkling of gray hair and a belly that
protruded just enough to prove he didn't work out as regularly as Taylor.
But his face was warm and paternal.

"Is these men the surprise, Mom?"

Dr. Ortiz answered the question with a question of his own. "Young man,
would you like to go to camp for a couple weeks?" Wesley's jaw dropped,
then he looked at his Dad who was smiling, and then his Mom.

"Really?"

"These men have been telling us about their camp, Son," Mr. Derrick said.
"This is an album of pictures. It looks like a place where you would have
lots of fun." Wesley was still in shock as he began lazily turning the
pages. He saw lots of boys swimming, and eating, and playing ball, and
riding horses, and sitting around campfires. The boys, different races,
all seemed to be about his age. He saw older men in the pictures, too.
Not teenaged counselors, but men like Taylor and the Doctor.

"But, uh, Ma, when I asked about camp before, you said it was too
expensive." Gino had gone to a sleepaway camp the previous summer, which
made Wesley jealous. He didn't know Gino's dad was a runner for the
Mafia, and sometimes came into a windfall, which was quickly spent. But
at least Gino had a father who cared for him and his two brothers.
Bobby's dad was nowhere around. His mom was raising four kids by herself.

"Well, yes, it is expensive. But these men think you deserve a special
treat, so they are willing to pay your way." Wesley looked up from the
album at the men. They were smiling broadly.

"So, what do you say, Wesley Derrick? Do you want to come to camp with us
next week?"

"Wow! That sounds super!" Wesley jumped up and ran to the men to shake
their hands, but Taylor grabbed him and gave him a big bear hug instead.

"That's the kind of enthusiasm we like to see at Camp."

Dr. Ortiz also hugged him and asked whether he wanted to be called Wesley
or Wes. Of course, he preferred Wes. "Now, there's just one thing," Ortiz
said turning to Wes's parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Derrick, I told you before,
we need to give the boy a health examination. Routine. Just for our
records, you know. Wesley, oops sorry, Wes, would you mind if we go into
the bathroom and let me look you over?" Wesley eagerly took the Doctor's
hand and pulled him to the bathroom. He would do anything to make this
dream come true. "Mr. Taylor, why don't you fill out his health history
while we're in here." As the Doctor closed the bathroom door behind him,
Wesley could hear the other man asking his parents about his shots, and
allergies, and operations, and illnesses. Wesley was in very good health.
At school, he had an excellent attendance record.

Alone with the lad, the Doctor smiled and sat down on the toilet. He took
his stethoscope out of his pocket and began listening to Wesley's heart
and lungs. He talked softly and patiently, not like the people at the
clinic. He had Wesley remove his sweaty T shirt and examined his chest
and shoulders, his backbone and arms. Then he told Wesley to take off his
shoes. The floor tiles were cold but the Doctor sat the boy on his lap
and gently fingered all his toes and massaged his feet. He asked what
sports he liked, and told him he had a fine body and would probably excel
in any sport. Then he considerately opened Wesley's T on the floor, so
when he stood up again, his feet wouldn't get chilled.

"We're almost done, Wes. I just need to examine the rest of your body."
Wesley stood still and let the kind man undo his belt buckle and open his
zipper. He slipped out of his shorts and then willingly let the man pull
his briefs down his legs and off. Then the Doctor put on a pair of latex
gloves. Wesley felt no discomfort as the gentle man ran his hands over
his ten-year old ass, then gently spread his cheeks apart. But when he
felt a latex finger pressed against his hole, he shuddered slightly.
"That's ok, Son. I'm not going to hurt you." The man gave Wesley a kiss
on the top of his head. "I will never hurt you." His hands then caressed
the lad's tiny penis and scrotum. Wesley immediately sprang wood and his
face turned red. "Yes, I see that is in good health. Excellent. You don't
need to be embarrassed about your erections, Son. They are perfectly
natural." The Doctor gently pulled his foreskin back and examined the
helmet. What he did next surprised Wesley. So unlik! e those guys at the
clinic. This old medical man bent over and gently kissed the end of the
boy's penis. "There, now, all done." He popped off the gloves and
discarded them in the trash. "I found nothing wrong with your body. You
are fit to go to camp." He high-fived the youngster and helped him put
his clothes back on, but in so doing made a note of his shoe size and
waist size. Then he wrapped his warm arm around the boy's shoulder and
walked back into the living room.

Mr. Taylor had finished the health form and was now answering the
parents' questions. Mrs. Derrick looked a little concerned when the
bathroom door opened, but seeing her son's broad grin put her mind at
ease. She decided maybe they were doing the right thing after all. Her
husband had not shared her misgivings. From that time last month when
Taylor introduced himself in the McDonalds mens room, Mr. Derrick saw it
only as a win-win situation for all.

.oOo.

"You got a good looking boy there, Mister." Mr. Derrick was of course
surprised when the then stranger spoke to him. Guys just didn't do that
in mens rooms. "I'm on the board of directors of a camp for boys just
like him. Oh, there won't be any fee. In fact, you can end up coming out
ahead. Here's my card. Think about it and give me a ring." That was all
he said before walking out of the mens room.

Living in the projects, Mr. Derrick was wary of con artists with schemes.
But, there were several things about this proposition that piqued his
interest. First, Taylor didn't act like a con artist; he didnâ^À^Ùt press
the issue. Second, and most important, he remembered how his son envied
the Italian Stallion's camp experience the previous summer. And finally,
there was that odd remark about coming out ahead. What did that mean?

So, after a few days, Derrick called the number on the card and agreed to
meet him when he finished his shift at the plant. He climbed into the
white van and sat beside Taylor. He had talked to Gino's father about
camps and so was prepared with a list of questions. The first was about
the counselors.

"Well, we don't hire counselors, Mr. Derrick. The camp is run by men who
love young boys and like to play with them. The men come from all over
the country just to spend quality time with boys like your son, -- you
said his name was Wesley? There is a one-to-one ratio, one man to one
boy, so we don't need to hire any staff. The men themselves have skills.
One is a chef, one is a horse trainer, several are trained lifeguards, we
have our own doctor. Believe me, you won't find this kind of expertise in
any other camp."

"Well, why exactly do you want to do this for my son?" Derrick was not
really suspicious, but just curious.

"Two reasons. Frankly, your boy is just as cute as a button. That day at
McDonalds, I saw his smile could light up a room! He will be a ray of
sunshine at the camp. Second, I noticed how well behaved he was. He was
all boy, of course, but he was obedient and polite. You have a very fine
son."

By now several red flags were being raised in Derrick's mind. "They like
to play with them." "cute as a button." Derrick had a feeling he knew
what this was about, yet it didn't concern him. When he was Wesley's age,
(he in fact, looked a lot like Wesley), he was in a Scout troop in New
Jersey. A few of the boys, like Derrick, were particular favorites of the
scoutmasters. They got special treatment and in return granted the men
certain favors. They went on special camping trips where they slept in
the men's tents and learned the pleasures of man-boy sex. Later, as a
man, Derrick knew some considered this child abuse, and if he was
inclined he could have ratted them out, but in all honesty he enjoyed the
way these men treated him. Now he saw maybe his son could have a similar
experience.

"You mentioned something about coming out ahead. What did you mean by
that?"

"Yes. You see, we would consider it a privilege if you allow us to borrow
Wesley for these two weeks. We are willing to pay for that privilege. We
know the boy must mean a lot to you and your wife. We hope you would
consider a thousand dollars appropriate compensation."

"Hush money," Derrick thought to himself. And yes, he could certainly use
the money. However, he immediately knew this would be Wesley's money. He
would be earning it in ways he would not know until he got there. So
Derrick decided then and there it would go into a college fund for the
boy.

Without elaborating too much, Derrick explained the plan to his wife
later. She didn't fully understand all the implications, but she wanted
to see her boy happy. So they called Taylor and arranged the meeting with
him and the Doctor.

.oOo.

It was early Saturday morning and Wes and his parents were already
waiting by the building's front door for the van to arrive at the
projects. Bobby and Gino (and Gino's dog) were there also to wish their
friend goodbye. Gino didn't understand why the White Wonder had no
backpack. He had a long list of stuff he had to bring to his camp. But
they had been assured everything Wes needed would be provided. His
clothes, his gear, even his toothbrush. If he had a special teddy or
something, he could bring it, but Wes didn't.

Wes's dad kept talking to his son about the importance of doing whatever
the men asked. That he might not understand everything; some things might
surprise him; but as long as he wasn't being hurt, he should play along.
That he would find it would be fun. Wes didn't know what the hell he was
talking about, but he absorbed all the advice anyway.

When the van pulled up, Taylor was in the driver's seat. Dr. Ortiz was
sitting behind him, next to a little chicano. Both men were wearing
matching green T's, khaki shorts (beltless, with elasticized waistbands)
and white Adidas. Wes kissed his parents, high-fived his friends and
climbed aboard. As the van pulled away, Ortiz was sitting between the two
boys, an arm around each one. They drove around the city and picked up
three more boys. The kids, two in the back seat, and three sitting with
Ortiz, were typically rambunctious, and quickly became good friends.
Ortiz would tickle one or another, and the whole crew would set off
giggling! As they pulled out of the city, the boys began to calm down as
they stared wide-eyed at trees, and fields, and open traffic-free roads.

After a while, a new restlessness set in, as one after another of the
boys announced he had to pee. They had left the fast food alley long
before, and were now driving through nothing but countryside. So Taylor
pulled over by a grove of trees and announced a rest stop. The boys
clambered out and set to work watering the trees, as the two men watched
with great satisfaction.

Back in the van, the Doctor took over the driving, and Taylor was now
seated ass to ass with the boys, Wes on his left, two on his right, and
two behind.

"OK, boys, from now on it's not Dr. Ortiz. I'm just Doc, OK? Everyone at
camp calls me Doc. And your big friend back there is Chris, OK? No more
Mr. Taylor." Sure enough, now the boys noticed Chris's name was printed
on his T shirt, and Wes remembered seeing Doc's name on his.

-----

Young Wes is on his way to camp. What will it be like? I bet you have a
few ideas.

Every Nifty author loves to get mail from his readers. Please write and
tell me how you like this story.
Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.