Date: Wed, 23 Nov 2005 20:17:25 -0600
From: Chris Pe <dr_chris_p@hotmail.com>
Subject: What a trip , part 8

It started out cool but out here where there is no humidity, it just takes a
sunny day to warm things up.  I started putting several layers on when I
walked out of the house, it was a few degrees above freezing.  I was heading
out to get my pre-Thanksgiving haircut, some staples for the exterior
Christmas lights, and to check on my camper boys out at the ranch.  By the
time I got to the ranch that afternoon, I was down to a t-shirt and jeans.
It had warmed up to over 75.

I and the mothers had been convinced to let four boys camp out at the ranch.
  They didn't want to sleep in either of the two camper trailers still left
out there, but I left them open as well as the old ranch house, which was
also stocked with a few camping necessities,  like microwave popcorn,
marshmallows, poptarts, and packets of sugar-free Kool-Aid (Chris' mom
thinks the boys get too much sugar).  Over the years we have built up a
really nice fire-ring and seating area.  The droughts took their toll on
some of the huge oak trees at the edge of the property and I took a chainsaw
to them and ended up with some nice soft logs to sit on.  So Lance, Chip,
Chris, and Cartoosh (at least that is what I think his name is) camped out
under the stars, around a warm fire, roasting marshmallows, chugging
Kool-aid, and telling campfire stories.

I drove out to the ranch, got out and walked down to the campfire.  The camp
was abandoned but there was a mess of opened sleeping bags, snack wrappers,
and jackets.  The fire was all but out, just the last coals smoldering.  I
listened carefully and when I heard them, I knew exactly where they had
gone.  There's a pumpjack, an oil well, at the bottom of the hill on the
other side of the pasture.  It would appear that they ran out of all the fun
they could have around a campfire and sought amusement from heavy equipment.

I could hear them laughing and shouting as I approached.  I got to the top
of the hill and I could see a naked body sitting on top of the working
pumpjack.  Its not that fast of a ride but the naked boy has his hand in the
air, the other holding on like it was tucked away in the rigging on top of a
saddle bronc.  I stopped at the top and saw possibly the whitest butt I have
ever seen on a live person.  My first thought was that I was worried about
where the deer hunters were.  It was open season on whitetail deer.  I
recognized Chris from his blond hair, not from that white butt, as he
climbed the ladder up to the top of the pumpjack.

I jumped a little when I heard a noise below me.  It was Lance, standing by
the piles of clothes and holding a cell phone out in front of him.  It was
one with the camera built in and he was framing the pumpjack with Chip and
Chris crawling around naked.  I laughed and Lance looked up at me.  As I
slid down the hill he turned and smiled at me.  He not only was naked, he
had a rock hard boner sticking up at about 45 degrees, he couldn't have been
any harder.  And he wasn't trying to hide it from me or the others.  Lance
was happily showing me the set of pics he took with Chris' camera.  None of
them were particularly sexual but they all showed the other boys naked and
playing on or around the pumpjack.

I noticed that Lance wasn't in a single one, as he was the photographer.  I
told him that he ought to get a pic of `that'.    When he asked what, I
pointed to his boner.  He bent over and looked for something on the ground
worthy of a picture.  I tapped his boner the next time and made sure he knew
what I was talking about.  It got a giggle out of him and then a little more
sinister laugh when I said that he needed a picture of himself for Chris to
see.  He held the camera down and took a shot of his boner.

We walked on down to the pumpjack, laughing and talking.  Chris had moved
out to the end of the pumpjack with Chip and I was looking for Cartoosh.  I
still think that name sounds like an automobile's ass.  He was there, he was
behind the little shack associated with the well.  He saw me coming and was
shy enough that he went to hide.  He did appear when Lance called him out.
Cartoosh has a very dark complexion, his family coming from the Middle East.
  I really hadn't noticed it when he traveled with us to the East Coast last
summer, but the boy is uncircumcised.   I noticed when he finally removed
his hands from in front of his crotch.  If you could count foreskin when
measuring a dick, he probably had a six inch dick, four of it being the
foreskin.  His ball sac was almost black.  He looked so gangly and awkward,
he had to be in a growth spurt that makes a boy look that way.

Chris is an extremely handsome boy.  I remember him standing out among all
the scouts.  He has a shock of blond hair that insists of standing off his
head in the front.  He may use a little gel, but even while playing in the
pool or pond, his hair would stand up almost straight in the front.  His
blues eyes are truly piercing, you have to look at his eyes but then they
are also hard to maintain looking at them.  He has a strong body that is
just now developing into a young man's physique.  I thought that my boys and
Chip had a great tan but Chris had them beat.  Here in the middle of
November, the boy was truly golden brown, all but that white butt.  His
back, chest and arms were dark tan, his legs told the story of wearing
football pants, and shorts, and a swimsuit.

I let them climb around and ride for a while more before I had them gather
up and head back.  I took a clothed Chris and Cartoosh back to their homes
and hauled Chip back with us.  Chip's bubble butt wasn't quite as white but
he did have a grease mark on each cheek from riding that pumpjack.  I
learned years ago, that anything to do with the oil patch will get you dirty
and oily.  The boys took a shower and I gathered their clothes, they just
reeked of campfire smoke, boy sweat, and oil.  They stayed in the shower so
long that I'm sure they ran out of hot water, which I needed to wash the
transferred oily racing stripes from Chip's underwear.  I really should have
just put him in another pair of Lance's and avoided some of the stress on
the boy for going home with ruined clothes.

I really doubt if anyone in his family or his maid would ever take count of
how many pairs of underwear he has or if a pair was soiled by playing around
in the patch.  A couple of weeks ago, I had a little bit of a look inside
his house and it provided a little bit of a look inside his life.

I got to participate in another boy scout campout.  It was the first one for
Lance.  He has been convinced to join his brother and Chip.  A year ago, he
scoffed at anything the scouts did and thought it was totally queer.  He has
made several friends in the troop as well as being able to more than
tolerate his older brother.  He and Chip have bonded and are building a
great strong relationship.  Part of my responsibility on the campout was to
drive, I think they just use me for my big Ford.  I went over to pick Chip
up, been to his house many times, even inside but never to his room.

His mother met me and she is a pleasant woman.  She is always made up, hair
and face perfect, and clothes that look like she is trying to sell you a
house.  Yet there is always a chill in the air when she is around.  If I
cared, I would be a little put out by the way she treats me, like a servant,
or at least somebody working for her.  Her home is as immaculate as she is.
  The front hall is always discretely decorated with the season.  Its really
nothing more than a large display of flowers on the table in the middle of
the hall and a couple of small splays on either side.  The living room gives
me the chills.  There are magazines, Food and Wine, Conde Nast Traveler, and
Architectural Digest, and not one of them is an inch out of line in the
display on the coffee table.  The furniture is very light colored with
accent pieces that match the season, and not a spot or stain anywhere.

Since I have gained an instant family, my home has taken a beating.  I'm not
the neatest person in the world, but I couldn't spill, streak, break, stain,
or wear things out like my boys, their friends, and their mother.  I bet if
you walked through the house right now, you would find three socks on the
floor, three, not two or four.   You might find a pair of old underwear, a
half eaten slice of last week's pizza, and chairs all out of place.  It does
feel warm and lived in.

Chip's mother instructed me to go retrieve Chip's things from his room.  I
was there to get his sleeping bag, backpack, and other camping necessities.
And Chip.  I went to his room, I stepped in and then back out, I was sure I
had the guest room.  I looked into the next room, even colder.  I checked
back into the first bedroom and it looked like the living room.  There were
only a few things out on the dressers and desk.  The school books were
there, stacked neatly, with paper and pens.  A laptop nearby and flowers!  A
full fledged flower arrangement, full of fall colors.  I thought that this
was insane.  No boy should ever have to live like this.  I had to get out of
there, quickly.  I opened the closet as instructed, found the gear stacked
and ready to go.  Chip's closet was so organized and neat.  It was regular
kids stuff but I imagine that it would pass any drill instructor's
inspection.

I knew Chip lacked affection in his life.  This was just an affirmation of
that.  I know his mother does care for him, at least making sure he has
things he wants and behaving like a proper young man.  I guess this is what
she thought living with money was all about.  Chip's father was a powerful
business man in town.  He actually does a lot of business out of town, which
causes more stress in Chip.  He definitely has money, but to tell you the
truth, I know its not all that much more than I have.  His companies have
quite a bit more assets but I know those are still in debt.  I know he will
go weeks without even seeing Chip.  I've never been real fond of the man,
dating back to when we were in school.  He is a couple of years younger than
me but we would cross paths a few times over the years.  One word always
seems to pop up when I think of the man, acrid.

After packing away Chip's gear, I waited in the kitchen with his mother.  As
I drank my ice tea, we talked.  She was very thankful for the opportunity to
have Chip experience the camping trip, and the camaraderie with the boys.
She also spoke of the good that I and the other Scout Masters do to helping
build his character.  I saw a little of her façade melt away as she spoke of
Chip.  I think she understands a little more about the coldness of his
house, his life, and his relationship with his parents. It might have gotten
deeper in the analysis had not Chip walked in.  I said my goodbyes to the
lady as he went in to change clothes.  I excused myself and said I was going
to go check to make sure I got everything that he wanted or needed to be
packed.  I walked in, and he had changed, but there wasn't a sock on the
floor, it was all back in place.  And he was in a hurry to get out of there.

There have been several times that I have seen Chip get edgy or nervous when
things are out of place.  When we went to Dallas in the camper, Chip put his
things in the closets, drawers and cabinets.  I lived out of my duffle bag,
Jason lived out of his bag and the pile that built up on his bed.  Lance,
well, I'm not sure he changed clothes, brushed his hair, or needed anything
in his bag.

It was also tough on Chip after he realized he had left his jacket in the
closet.  He has others very appropriate to the weather but it was not where
is should have been.  It bothered him until we could go out and get it.  It
turned out to be a good little trip there, but that is another story.

Since last Friday, Chip has spent all but two nights here.  Either sleeping
in Lance's or Jason's room, depending on who is the friendliest that night.
I didn't even know he was here Monday night, he stayed over watching the
pitiful game on MNF.  He is still here tonight.  He is trying to wrangle an
invite.  I wouldn't mind at all, in fact I hate the thought of him returning
to that cold house.  Even though its still in the 60's tonight, I bet its
frigid in that house.

When I talk to him, or spend time with him, it is so easy for me to forget
those conditions and just enjoy the moment.  It is so easy to return the
affection and love that he gives.  I wonder if can even try at his house.
It seems that he lacks so much at home that some love and caring so quickly
warms him.