Date: Wed, 27 Oct 2010 23:39:17 -0600
From: lucmilne@telus.net
Subject: CAMPING FUN WITH THE SATURDAY CLUB

Copyright 2010 by Luc Milne.  <lucmilne@telus.net> All rights reserved.
One copy may be downloaded for personal use.

CAMPING FUN WITH THE SATURDAY CLUB

About three times a year, in the early and late summer and in the fall, The
Saturday Club has a camping weekend on a big piece of wooded property owned
by one of the members.  There's a cleared area where the tents can be put
up, with a well and pump for water, several picnic tables, and many hiking
trails wandering through the 600 acres.  It's about an hour out of the city
in the foothills, so getting there is easy and we don't have to waste a lot
of "play time" driving out on Friday afternoons and coming back on Sunday
evenings.  These camping weekends serve a special purpose for the club
which is a group of men who like the company and the use of older teen
boys.  The camp outs are to examine prospective new members, trying to
determine how well they would fit in with the club and whether their tastes
are in line with ours. Usually we limit the potential new members at these
weekends to two, or at the most three, and only seven or eight regular club
members are chosen to do the vetting.  The competition to be chosen for
"evaluator" on a weekend camp is fierce because it provides a chance to try
out some new boyflesh (all of the applicants for membership must bring a
boy of their own) and to introduce new men to pleasures they may only have
dreamed of.  The evaluators are accompanied by their boys (sons, nephews,
students, athletes they coach, or even street boys picked up for the
occasion.)  Some guys bring two or three boytoys, so there is plenty of
teen meat to around.

The club owns some canvas wall tents big enough for several men and boys to
move around in, since a lot of group play goes on during the nights, and a
few two-man tents for guys who like to take a special kid for private use.
Each member brings any pleasure equipment he'll need, like ropes and cuffs
and gags, tit clamps, dildos and whips.  I take care of laying in the food
and drink and everybody shares the cost.

Sharing is the key word for these weekends: it's not just the cost we
share: all the succulent boyflesh is open to free and almost unlimited use
by every member and every evaluator gets a chance to test the prospective
new members' boys. Each new member candidate is also expected to show what
he can do and how imaginatively and willingly he can do it.  We all believe
that teenage boys are a natural resource which should be available to
all. And getting new meat, both men and boys, is important to the continued
liveliness and pleasure of the club as a whole.

Last weekend's evaluation camp was especially memorable because we were
trying out a prospective new member named John Grant who is a financial
advisor at one of the big banks His son Rory is in his junior year of high
school - an "untouched" piece of teenmeat discovered by a coach at his
school who is a member of our club. He patrols the shower and locker rooms
of the school looking for "talent".  The main attraction of Rory was his
spectacular cock which hangs almost seven inches in its normal state but,
according to the coach, rises to a titanic ten inches in the shower when
the kid soaps it up.  It's not necessary for a boy to have a monster cock
to be included in Saturday Club fun but we always like to have a few
members who can supply big-dicked boys for those of us who enjoy "quantity"
along with "quality".  It didn't hurt that Rory was also, according to
reports, a good looking kid with a smooth, lean body.

Ed, the coach who spotted Rory in his naked splendour, called in the boy's
father, John Grant, for a late afternoon parent-teacher conference, to see
if there was a possibilty he might be a likely candidate for our sort of
interests.  Ed made sure that he was just coming out of the coach's shower
room off his office when Grant arrived, so the man could get a look at Ed's
big veiney cock swinging between his heavy thighs, still shiny and
tumescent from its long soapy massage under the warm spray.  Ed told me he
took his time drying off in front of the man while he introduced himself
and apologized for not being dressed.  He said that Grant could hardly look
him in the eye because his gaze was firmly fixed on the coach's meat the
whole time.  It was only when Ed turned away and slipped on a fresh
jockstrap that covered his package, while at the same time pushing his
meaty butt cheeks up into even more succulent mounds, that the man was able
to pull himself together, although the coach said he could see a promising
swell down the guy's trouser leg.

At that point Ed had arranged for one of his "special boys" to come into
the office with a limp, saying that he thought he had a sprain and could
use an ace bandage on his ankle.  The kid was also wearing nothing but a
jock, and since he was one of the boys the coach regularly brought to
Saturday Club sessions, he knew what was going on and what he was supposed
to do.

While the coach continued to ask questions of Grant about his son Rory's
studies and about any athletic ambitions he might have, he also put the kid
up on the massage table and began wrapping his ankle.  The boy moaned and
pretended to feel a lot of pain, so Ed asked Grant to come up beside the
lad and steady him by putting his arms around his chest and holding him
tight.  It soon became clear from the sheen of sweat that broke out on John
Grant's forehead that the experience was getting to him.

As Ed worked on the ankle the boy began to kick out with his other leg,
still squirming against Grant's hold on him: Ed said "Put your hand on the
kid's thigh, John, and press down.  Keep him quiet."  The fact that John
Grant chose to put his hand on the upper thigh, as near as he could get to
the boy's crotch was enough to make Ed suspect that John Grant had
potential for membership in the Saturday Club.  But just to make sure, as
he finished wrapping the ankle, he said sharply to the boy, "Stop acting
like a baby, you little pussy.  Be a man, a little pain never hurt
anybody. Besides, we can tell you're getting off on it, aren't you?"  He
reached for the kid's bulging jockpouch, pulled it to one side and hauled
out the boy's hard cock, shiny with precum, and throbbing so that it
bounced up and down in the air as it arched above his nuts.

"Look at this pussy's boymeat, John, isn't that the tastiest thing you've
ever seen?  Go on, feel it.  Let's make this little slut blow his wad for
us."  John Grant hesitated, seeming to struggle with his conscience, so Ed
grasped the hand that was still pressing down on the boy's thigh and guided
it to the boycock, wrapping it around the hot tube.

Grant didn't take his hand away, but he didn't do anything with it either:
he seemed frozen.  "Go on, milk it a little, John.  Jerk it like you do for
that big dicked son of yours.  Surely you taught Rory how to jack off when
he got old enough."  But, according to Ed, that was a "bridge too far" with
John Grant.  He dropped the hot boymeat and stepped back, stammering a
protest.  "No, no, I never...I never did that...ever..."  Ed could see the
big wet spot on the man's trouser leg and knew enough from that to be
pretty certain John Grant was Saturday Club material.  So he apologized to
the man and said he'd be in touch with him again.  Once Grant was gone, Ed
said he took the ace bandage off the kid's ankle, wrapped it around the
boy's wrists behind his back, pushed him down on the table and sucked two
sweet loads out of his cock without stopping to let the him rest between
climaxes, before sending the slut to the showers.  He said that sucking the
second load out of the teencock, super sensitive from the first shoot, was
great because the bitch stuggled and yelled and bucked so much that his
cock kept pushing its way past Ed's gag ring and fucking his throat.

On the Monday before the camping weekend I called John Grant at his office
and told him I had been referred to him by a coach at his son's school.  I
said we were wondering if he would like to come with Rory for a weekend in
the woods with a group of men who enjoyed doing things with their boys -
purely "social" I assured him.  I explained that Ed had felt he might like
our little club which was useful for making contacts, and that it helped
the boys make new friends as well.  He was a little hesitant at first, but
finally agreed that he and Rory would like to come.  I told him what to
bring in the way of clothes and sleeping bags and said I would pick them up
at his house on Friday afternoon about five o'clock for the one hour drive
to the property.

On Friday I arrived at Grant's house in an upscale suburb and they climbed
into my Subaru SUV, John Grant in the front with me and Rory in the back,
sitting between my two sons, Jess and Sam.  They didn't know him because
they go to a private school, but they are his age - Jess is a junior and
Sam a sophomore.  I've been playing with them for years and they are
well-trained so they knew what they were supposed to do.  While I kept John
engaged in chit chat in the front seat, my sons quizzzed Rory about his
school and his friends and the music he liked and the sports he played.
They were squeezed in a bit tight in the seat and they made sure that their
bodies were in close contact on either side, with the arm of Jess around
his back and the hand of Sam resting casually on his thigh.  I knew that
eventually Jess would move one hand onto Rory's chest and feel up his pecs,
when they talked about weight training in PE classes and that Sam's hand
would slowly move up into Rory's nicely packed basket when they asked him
about the girls he dated.  I watched Rory's face in the rearview mirror and
could see him getting red and bothered, looking nervously at the back of
his father's head, but I was pleased to see that he didn't try to fend off
the attentions my two boys were giving him.  At one point John Grant turned
around in his seat and said "How are you doing Rory?  You guys seem to be
getting along pretty well."  He saw that Sam was mauling Rory's crotch like
a baker kneading a big mound of dough, and turned back again to face front,
clearing his throat and staring firmly at the road ahead.

By the time we had turned in at the property gates and driven the half mile
into the to the campsite, he had his hands clasped in his own crotch,
attempting to hide whatever was going on down there.  When we got out of
the car, I was pleased to see that my sons stayed right beside Rory, Jess
with his arm around the kid's shoulders and Sam with his hand firmly
cupping one of Rory's beatiful butt cheeks.  The crotch of Rory's jeans was
tantalizingly full.

The other men and their boys were already there along with the second
candidate for club membership we were evaluating that weekend.  His name
was Cal, and he had been pestering one of the members for months to let him
join.  The member was a colleague of his in the real estate office where
they worked and had revealed more about the club's activities to Cal than
he should have.  Calvin Strunk or "Just call me Cal" was unmarried, without
kids, and tended to hang around the bus station toilets trying to pick up
boys who arrived from their small towns for their adventures in the big
city.  He wasn't quite our type of guy but we learned that he had a nephew,
Alex, who was a sexy piece of teen flesh, and that Cal was willing to bring
him as his "date" for the weekend.  So we invited him.

The tents had been set up, the fire pit had a blaze going, and food was
being set out on the two picnic tables.  To one side there was a circle of
camp chairs where we sat for about half an hour drinking beer or wine with
our boys sitting on the ground between our legs, leaning their heads back
against our widespread cotches.  In cases, like mine, where the member had
brought a couple of boys, the other kid stood behind and massaged our
shoulders, pressing firmly up against the backs of the chairs.  For the
eight evaluator members and the two membership candidates there were
fifteen boys in all to enjoy and use.

I should explain that we start these evaluation weekend camps at a fairly
low key, so that we don't frighten away the new guys and their teens.  We
show them how casual we are about body contact with the kids, and watch to
see if they follow suit naturally.  In Cal's case he pulled his nephew,
Alex, down forcefully and practically manhandled the boy between his hammy
thighs.  But John Grant was a little more reserved: he had Rory sit to one
side of his chair and just contented himself with letting his hand play
over the boy's head and onto his neck.  Of course we can't go on in this
"touchy-feely" way forever: someone has to break the ice, and last weekend
that was a member called Tom: he said to his boy (his sixteen year old
nephew, Kelly) "I feel like munching on some hot nuts with my beer, kid.
Strip down and let me at 'em."  The boy, who was experienced with the club,
stood, pushed down his jeans and jockeys and moved to the side of his
uncle's chair, holding his swelling penis up against his firm stomach so
that his ripe boynuts bulged out, round and juicy, just right for nibbling
on.  Tom swigged some beer from his can, then leaned down and took one of
the nuts in his fingers, pressing it into his lips like a big gum ball.  He
rolled it around in his cheeks and we could see that he was biting down
lightly on the nut, "cracking" it a little.  Kelly shivered and whimpered,
but didn't draw away.  From the cocklips of the prick he was still pressing
against his stomach we could see a drop of clear boyhoney start to form.
Tom let the teen-nut pop out of his mouth and moved up to lick at the
honey, then dropped down to the nuts again, this time cramming both of them
into his face so his cheeks swelled out like a greedy chipmunk.  More
rolling and munching sent Kelly into a complete body shudder, and he began
to whine like a puppy.  Around the circle of chairs a couple of other
members had pulled their boys to their feet, opened the kids' pants and
were eating their own boynut treats, so that a chorus of moans and whimpers
began to fill the clearing.

The two candidates for membership, John and Cal, stared at the scene, as if
they had stumbled into some strange world where everything they had ever
dreamed of was coming true.  Neither of them made the slightest move to go
away.  Their boys, Rory and Alex, were also transfixed, and a little
afraid, I think, that the nutbusters might start in on them next.

But before that could happen, I stood up and said, "I think we'd better
eat, guys.  We don't want to spoil our appetites with the cocktail nuts, do
we."  So, laughing and joking we moved to the picnic tables.  At first the
men and the boys sat down together and ate the usual camp fare: sandwiches
and grilled hamburgers, potato chips, potato salad, and cole slaw.
Conversation was general and the men joked with the boys about their hair
and their clothes and their bodies, while the kids slyly got in digs about
the "old guys" and their weird ways.  Gradually with bellies filled,
thoughts turned to other kinds of food. Two of the tables were cleared and
the boys were stripped completely, then five of them were laid across each
table so that the each club member sitting on either side had a nice
plateful of "boy-meat-and-balls" to dig into.  Because we wanted to save
Rory and Alex for dessert, we left them in their underwear and tied them to
posts embedded in the ground at the ends of the tables where they had a
good view of the feasting.  Cal and John were invited to join us, though,
and to follow our lead in the second meal of the evening.

We have found that this kind of "food sexplay" is non-threatenting and fun
for the new guys and their boys and helps to ease them into the more
rigourous games to come. We like to start the "teen buffet" with hotdogs or
"boy sausage on a bun": each man is given a warm hotdog bun which he
"butters" with the precum he squeezes from his kid's sausage, then lays the
prickmeat between the two sides of the bun and starts to eat his way
through the bread to the juicy tube of flesh inside.  Naturally the chewing
of the bread sometimes brings a guy's teeth into contact with the meat
inside it, so there are plenty of squeals to let us know the boys are
experiencing their eaters' hunger very vividly.  By the time the bread is
gone, most of the guys continue with a ravenous sucking on the big boy
wieners, until they finally get their reward of creamy teengrease straight
from the gasping cumlips of the abused cockheads.  A couple of guys like
pickles with their hotdogs and they will take tiny gherkins and stick them
down into the boy's cumholes, then nibble them out: as they get closer to
the tender cumlips, they nip at the sensitive morsels as they pull and chew
out the last of the pickles from the holes.  The yelling that occurs during
this cumlip chewing session has to be muffled, so we call up the extra
boys, the extra lads not needed for the feasting, to come up and stuff
their cocks down the yellers' throats.

Last weekend I watched Rory very carefully during this stage of the meal
and was pleased that his jockey shorts were bursting with tumid teen cock
and throbbing teen balls. We were also monitoring Cal and John, to see how
they took to their sausages on a bun: Cal was so greedy with his kid that
we had to pull him off before he finished, afraid that he would do the
boycock permanent damage.  He had a kind of glazed look as we pried his
mouth from the lad's penis, as if he didn't realize that he was just
sucking on a teen sausage, not actually cannibalizing the boy.  John, was a
more careful eater: he took a long time on the bun and then when he got
down to the sausage inside, he tended to lick at it rather than suck on it.
But at least he went along with the scene, even though I don't think he
ever got his boy to shoot.  Our experiened teens need more than a light
licking to make them pop for us.

As dusk began to fall and the shadows of the trees stretched across the
clearing, it was time for the finale of the our first night's meal: the
double "dessert" courses, when the two prospective new boys would be milked
by the members for the first time.  The taking of "new cum" is always
special and the reactions of the prospective candidate members are
important as a sign of how whether they are going to be able to share their
boys' meat in the Saturday Club way.  First it was Alex's turn: we untied
him from his pole and pulled down his boxer shorts to reveal a delectable
virgin cock and balls, the penis not long but thick and plump, uncut, with
a plum shaped head glistening with precum, and the round testicles tight
and firm in their smooth pouch.  The kid's a blonde and he had a silky
trapezoid of blond pubic hair which was shaved off the next morning so that
he was completely lickable.  His pecs were slightly developed and his tits
were big and ripe, begging to be suckled.  We got him up on the table on
his hands and knees and made his Uncle Cal put his hands on the white
bubble butt cheeks and pull them apart so we could all finger his rosebud
and tongue it lightly to feel the ridges of his pucker.  While we examined
his ass, the boy's cock began to harden and drool strings of honey, so we
turned him over on his back and tied him down spread-eagle using cuffs and
chains that are permanently attached to the table corners.  I took hold of
his cock and squeezed it hard so the meatus swelled up even plumper, then
told Cal to take the first lick of his contribution to the club's stock of
teenmeat.  After that Cal had to stand by and just watch while we enjoyed
our first dessert course.

This was the "boy sundae" event, a treat at all of the friday night camp
meals.  We bring out from town a supply of chocolate and caramel syrup,
spray cans of whipped cream, jars of maraschino cherries and cans of salted
peanuts.  I know it's a cliche, and that it's messy, eating sundaes off a
boy's body, but that doesn't make it any the less fun and tasty.  We
decorate his crotch with a circle of cream, then spoon chocolate syrup over
his nuts, and dribble it on his cock head; a salted peanut is inserted in
his cumhole, with more nuts beside him in a bowl to replace the ones
nibbled out. On his pecs we dribble caramel syrup and put a dollop of cream
and a cherry on each tit.  The same treatment is given his belly button,
and little dribbles chocolate and caramel syrup are traced across his whole
body and across his face for those who like to "suck-face" with their
teens.  But then, when the boy sundae is ready for eating, I tell the men
to stand back and I say to the boys who are watching "Come and get it,
kids.  It's your treat!"  At that the boys (there were 13 of them not
counting Alex and Rory) descended on the sundae boy and gobbled up the
sweet decorations on Alex's body like starving piglets crowding around a
sow's titties.  The smacking sounds of tongues and lips sucking up the
cream and syrup and cherries was very stimulating: many of the men took
their cocks in hand and jerked them lazily as they watched their boys
ravage Alex's body.  We kept adding cream and syrup when areas began to be
cleaned, and that would set off even more ravenous pigging out by the lads
who pushed at each other to get at the best bits: the tits and the cockhead
and the nuts.syrupy balls.

After a while I signalled to the men and they moved up behind the boys, and
reached around their bodies as they hunched over the table eating at Alex's
flesh. They slowly jacked their hard teen cocks, gently squeezed their
balls, and fingered their ass puckers.  They kept bringing the eaters to
the edge of climax then backing off, causing the kids to eat with even more
frenzy.  Finally we saw Alex's body stiffen and arch up, ready to shoot his
own creamy syrup.  I moved quickly forward and yanked the kid who was at
that moment sucking Alex off the the kid's cock, then pulled John Grant to
the table, saying, "Go ahead John, do the honours, eat this slut's first
club cum."  A little push of his head toward the crotch was enough to make
him sink his open lips onto the quivering meat, which at that very moment
erupted into his mouth, filling it with chocolate flavoured boy semen.
John Grant groaned, and buried his face as far into the boy's pubes as it
would go, desperate to get every drop of teencum out of that pulsing tube.
Alex's load was prodigious. It was more than John could swallow. We could
see strings of it spill out of his lips and run down onto the boy's nuts.
I took pity on Cal and brought him forward as well.  "Go on Cal, clean up
the slut's nuts.  You deserve some of the good stuff, yourself.  And thanks
for bringing us such a tasty boy."  Finally I said to the boys who were
still licking at Alex's tits and face, "That's it boys, dessert's
finished. Back off."  A couple of us pulled John and Cal off the kid's
crotch, and we uncuffed him, helped the groggy boy up, and instructed the
other boys to take him to the pump and wash him off with the fresh well
water.

We now turned to Rory who was staring at the scene with a glazed look.  We
untied him from the pole and led him to the other picnic table which was
still clean.  Some of the men lighted the tiki torches stuck in the ground
around the tables, so that the gathering darkness was lit with a flickering
primitive glow.  We got Rory up on the table on his back and pulled down
his white jockey shorts, releasing the marvel of teen flesh beneath.  His
penis was still only half tumescent, and it flopped back against his
stomach reaching all the way to his belly button, but leaking precum in
it's semi-swollen state, which puddled in the depression of the navel: many
of the members would want to dip their tongues in that small honeypot.
Rory's cock was fat and heavy, like a weighty leather cudgel, probably
eight to nine inches in girth, and uncut with a thick foreskin that looked
as if it could take a lot of pulling and chewing by hungry club members.  I
slowly skinned the skin back from his meatus to reveal a classic helmet
shaped glans with a long cumslit and prominent cumlips: it wouldn't take
much reaming and vacu-pumping to make that hole wide enough for tongue
probing and to swell up those little cumlips fat enough to nibble on.  The
erector muscle down the underside of the shaft was as thick as man's finger
and looked more than capable of keeping the penis lifted and arched in its
fully distended state, which was gradually developing.  The shaft stretched
slowly but inexorably up the boy's stomach, the meatus moving past the
belly button by another inch.  Rory's pubic hair was dark, but not heavy,
and we would leave it on him: this wasn't a boy to be shaved clean like
some doll: this was a unique piece of teen meat that needed to be left in
its natural condition.  The nuts were the size and shape of duck eggs and
hung in their long sack, almost resting on the table beneath the spread
thighs.  Few of the members would be able to get those babies in their
mouths at the same time, but many would try.  Just as few would be able to
deep throat that slab of teen meat so that their gag rings could milk out
its goodness, but everyone would have a go at it.

We cuffed Rory's arms and legs to the table and prepared for the finale of
the meal: something beyond a "boy sundae"; more of a "Teen Cum Surprise" -
the sort of thing that french chefs used to bring on at the very end of the
meal as the "piece de resistance" - a showpiece so special it defied common
or conventional dishes.  The "surprise" aspect of this "dish" was that
everyone present had to help in its presentation before the elite diners
got to eat it.  All the 14 other boys, including Alex, were called back
from the pump where they were still washing down the sundae boy and the men
brought each of them to the edge of the table and jerked off the hard
boycocks vigourously so that the lads shot their loads within minutes onto
the body of the magnificent Rory.  Then each of the men including John and
Cal crowded around the table and jerked his own swollen cock off onto the
teen body until it was decorated with twenty-four copious loads of man and
boy sperm.  We gently used our fingers to spread the semen evenly over the
lean, muscled body, including his face, his legs, and his feet, so that
every inch was covered with a light sheen of cum, reflecting the flickering
light of the torches.  I told the boys to stand back away from the table,
then looked around at the 10 men licking their lips as they looked own at
the cum-frosted body.  "Gentlemen" I said, "let's eat!"

I was too involved in licking and biting on my own area of Rory's torso to
be able to describe exactly what happened next, but I am sure that from a
distance it looked like savages feasting on the thrashing and groaning body
of their captured prey.  Eventually every man got his turn at the
magnificent cock with its massive meatus, and every man got his moment with
the rolling balls and the cum-flavoured tits.  And every man got to lick
the bits of semen from the boy's handsome face, probing down into his sperm
-painted lips with their tongues, giving him a taste of the jism that
coated him.  One of the men had brought a bottle of fine cognac with him to
the weekend and he dribbled a thin stream of the heady golden liquid over
the boyflesh when the semen began to disappear, giving us a new impetus to
lick and slurp at the shiny skin.  The more we slurped at the cognac-soaked
boy the more we lost our control and there was a danger of doing damage to
the kid if we kept on too long, especially if we worked harder and harder
with our lips and our teeth at the cock head and the balls.  But before
that could happen Rory at last gave up his treasure in a heaving, endless
gush - enough to feed each of us a good mouthful, and we worshipped in turn
at the streaming cumlips like pilgrims at a shrine.  His semen tasted of
vanilla and brown sugar and ginger: it was as thick and creamy as a warm
custard sauce: one taste made you want to eat it forever.  Licking the cum
off Rory Grant's cockhead helped you understand just what "cum addiction"
was all about!

When, at last, the boy slumped back, drained and shuddering, his meat
beginning to lose its full heft, but still wetly tumescent and suckable, we
withdrew one by one, grabbing our own boys by the balls and dragging them
into our various tents where we fucked their mouths and assholes until we,
like Rory, had no more cum to give them.  After that we got down between
our boys' legs and sucked out another nightcap of teen cum before falling
asleep with our heads in their crotches and their meat still in our
mouths. In my case I suckled Jess all night and Jess suckled me as my
younger son Sam slept beside us. I presume that John and Cal did the same
with Rory and Alex since in the morning we found them entwined in their
respective bed rolls.  Cal had sucked so many further loads out of his
nephew's candy cock that the boy didn't wake up until late morning.  John
was sleeping on his side with Rory spooned behind him, that magnificent
dick pressed up against his father's ass.

So that was the first night of the "evaluation" camp, and very promising it
was.

On Saturday morning, after taking a dip in the creek nearby, then lazing
around the camp, and at about eleven o'clock eating a good breakfast, we
gathered around the two picnic tables for a "Workshop" session.  One of the
features of these weekends, and of other Saturday Club meetings as well, is
the "educational" hour when various members with specialized tastes and
skills teach the other men how to increase their pleasure when they use the
boys.  On this weekend Ed Barton, the high school coach who had recruited
John and his son Rory, gave a great demonstration and 'hands-on" practicum
in penis whipping.

Taking a whip to a teenager's meat can be very stimulating, for both the
man and the boy, but it's got to be done with skill and control, to keep
the emotions from getting out of hand.  Ed, who is single and has no boy of
his own, had brought one of his "special boys", chosen from the continually
renewed array of tempting boyflesh in his locker room at the school, as the
"sample" whipping cock that he would demonstrate on.  He also brought a
full supply of different kinds of whips so the men could get experience
with a range of pleasure toys.  Ed put his kid, named Zack, on one of the
tables, tied down in the standard spread-eagle position, and casually
jacked the boy's long, slender cockmeat as he talked, until it started to
swell up. Then he let it flop back against the kid's stomach, just as
Rory's meat had lolled on his stomach the night before.  He explained that
it's always important to tie the boy down when you first begin his whipping
experience so he won't move around too much when you work on his meat.  But
he added, "After a year or so of regular cock discipline, you'll find the
slut doesn't need the cuffs any more - he'll just lay back and accept his
fate."

He explained why he had chosen Zack as his boy for the weekend: "For
teencock whipping I like a boy with a long, juicy piece of meat.  It
doesn't matter if he's cut or uncut, but, for my tastes, he's got to be
large enough to make me feel that he should be punished, just to make it
clear to him that no kid should have a cock that size."  He took Zack's
meat into his hand again and jerked it a little more.  "Now this boy is
cut, and as you can see, he has a fat, mushroom meatus that swells up and
out so that it's wider than his cock shaft, which is relatively slender.
That gives me a good target for certain types of whip, making it easier to
work over the cumlips with the tip of a quirt or carriage whip.  After I
get through with them, Zack's cumlips are going to be all red and puffy,
just right for sucking on, aren't they kid?"  He gave the boy's cockhead a
hard squeeze and Zack hissed, quickly anwering "Yes, Sir."

Letting go of the boy's cock, Ed looked around his audience who were
waiting expectantly for the lesson to begin.  He said, "Now we're going to
need four boys with nice fat cocks as practice material for you guys who
want a little hands-on training.  Any of you men want to volunteer your
boys?"

I said, "Take my Sam; he's hung big and he needs a little attitude
adjustment these days." This was true: Sam is a cocky kid who thinks his
big dick gives him special privileges to lord it over the other boys,
including his older brother Jess.

Ed laughed and said "Good for you - bring the slut over to the other table
and lay him down across it so his legs hang off one side and his head the
other, and spread his thighs before you tie him down, so we've got good
access to the cock and balls."  As I was doing that, Ed got three other men
to volunteer their kids for the practicum in teencock whipping, and soon
the second picnic table was decorated with four teenagers lying across it,
arranged alternately so that two men could stand on one side of the table
working at the meat, and two on the other.  When Ed called for the four
whippers, who would follow his example as they played wirh the teencocks
that were starting to grow with anticipation of the torture to come, I
stepped forward, and brought John Grant along with me, forcing him to
volunteer as one of the four.  He tried to back away, but I said "Don't be
a pussy, John, let us see if you're one of us. You and Rory have a great
future with the club if you just get with the programme."  So he took his
place on one side of the table next to Sam and me in front of the crotch of
a fifteen year old street kid with huge menacing meat. He'd had been
brought by one of the members who's a Judge at the Juvenile Court and has
access to a lot of hot young cock.  Very quickly two other members stepped
forward to take their places at the crotches of the two boys on the other
side of the table.

Ed began his lesson: "I usually start with a riding crop, one with a rough
sort of sandpaper surface on the slapping tip."  He reached down into the
big case he had beside him and pulled out several crops.  "Tom, would you
give one of these to each of the whippers?"  While Tom passed out the
crops. Ed instructed us to make sure that our kid's meat was jacked up to
at least a semihard state and that it was lying against the boy's stomach
so the erector muscle on the underneath of the shaft was accessible.  When
we had our riding crops in hand, he continued the demonstration.  "I start
at his balls and snap his cock shaft smartly with the crop, making the big
erector muscle pulse and swell up with the sharp blows. Like this...hear
that?...I like the sound of the crop smacking the boymeat and the little
grunts he makes while I work up and down the length several times.  Go on,
try it on your kids."

The sound of sharp snaps followed by moans and grunts from the boys, made
the onlookers, both the boys and the men, move in closer to watch the
action.  My Sam was glaring at me as I flicked his erector muscle with the
crop, but his dick rose and fell with every snap.  Next to me, John Grant
was just lightly tapping the street kid's heavy shaft with the crop, not
even hard enough for the boy to feel it.  Ed called out, "Hey John, you'll
have to do better than that: this isn't a tickle fest, it's a cockwhipping.
Put some wrist action into it."  I put my hand around John's wrist and gave
it a kind of twist which in turn made the tip of the riding crop snap
sharply on the boy's meat.  The punk yelped and his cock reared up
briefly. This seemed to galvanize John and he began to work at his "lesson"
a little more eagerly.

Ed continued. "Next, I rub the rough surface of the tip right on the head
of his cock, rasping against his cocklips, which in your own boy at home
would become permanently swollen, with continual punishment over a period
of time.  Again, as you can hear, the reaction of the boy is part of the
pleasure: rubbing the cocktip always gives rise to that sort of smothered
moan you're hearing from my slut now.  That makes my own cock start to leak
precum.  And you can see that the boy's cock sap is starting to ooze out as
well.  And when that precum starts to ooze, start tapping the whole meatus
with quick liitle flicks, maybe fifty times, getting harder and sharper as
you go."  Zack's groans rose to a high pitched keening. "Music to my ears,
kid" laughed Ed, "music to my ears."

We all began to rub the rough crop tips across the cumholes of our boys'
cocks, and were rewarded with a chorus of little squeals and heavy
panting. Then the tapping at the cockheads loosed a serenade of boy howls
My own cock started leaking so much precum, I ordered my Jess to come
forward and kneel at my crotch to lick me as I worked.  Around the circle
of watchers some of the other members also pushed boys to their knees and
plugged their mouth holes with rising manmeat.

Finally, Ed said, "But let's move on."  He brought some other objects out
of his case and gave them to Tom to distribute.  "Next I take the ten inch
leather slapper, like the ones you've got now, and crack it against the
kid's throbbing shaft about a dozen times."  He began to count as he
slapped the length of meat soundly...but by the count of "eight" the boy
Zack began to buck and his cock tried to stand up straight against the
slaps, so Ed backed off saying "If he starts to get too hot, I slap his
balls a couple of times, just to bring him down...like that.  See, that
makes the cock calm down a little.  I like a whipping boy's cock to be
semi-malleable, because the sound of leather hitting a swollen, but
medium-hard, still limber boy sausage is very stimulating. You can carry on
working the shaft and cooling him down with ball slaps as long as you like.
Eventually, as you see, the slut's cocklips will drool dick jelly into a
puddle on his stomach.  Now, a few fairly vicious slaps on the head of the
dick completes the slapper fun and gives him something to sing about."  He
mercilessly beat Zack's moist glans with the slapper about a dozen times,
putting the palm of his hand over the kid's mouth to muffle his yelps.  "Go
on, men, use your slappers on your whipbitches."

What followed was a symphony of slaps and yells, accompanied by a chorus of
encouragement from the onlookers.  "Beat the little fucker!...Make him
squeal!...Do it again...Slap his balls hard!...Whip the slut!"  Not that we
four whippers needed any prodding!

After a bit, Ed's voice broke into our rising whip lust, making calming us
down.  He said, "Now we take a little intermission from the cock whipping
to snack on the hot meat.  I'm going to take the precum from his stomach
and his meatus and coat the shaft with it, then lick it off in long rough
slurps...like this...up and down the pole with my tongue...again and
again...You see how his meat swells and rears up like it has a mind of its
own?  If the kid starts breathing too heavily while I'm snacking on his
juicy sausage, then I take my thumb and forefinger, like this, and flick
his tender cumslit to bring him down, because I'm not ready for him to give
up the milk yet."

We followed his instructions, and took a "snack break" on our kids'
steaming tubes, then played the "fingerflick" game on their cumlips: except
for John Grant. who was pigging out so mindlessly on his boy's cockhoney
that it was clear the kid was going to shoot, so I had to jerk his head off
the glans he was mouthing so roughly and flick the kid's cumslit myself, to
cool him off.  Still, I took it as a good sign that John was beginning to
loose his inhibitions.

After our precum snacks the training continued through the last stage of
the whipping discipline.  Ed showed us how to use the nine inch penis whips
with the square leather thongs.  We dragged the thongs across the meat
slowly several times and gave the shaft a couple of light brushes, just to
give the pussies a hint of what was to come.  Then Ed showed us how to
rotate our wrists swiftly and bring the thongs down on the meat, rotating
continually so that the leather tips zipped and cracked against the
reddening flesh without mercy.  He guided our arms to keep us from being so
forceful we might break the skin.  The splay of the thongs and the rotation
of the wrist meant that the tips struck against the balls and the cocklips
at the same time that they were whisking the shaft into a glowing,
quivering rod.  Then when the bitches started whimpering and humping up
with their torsos, actually trying to meet the blows of the penis flails,
Ed told us that the reward was near: he said "Grab the boy's cock with your
fist around base of his cock, holding it up vertical to his crotch so that
the thongs start to whack directly on the tip of his dick."  When we did
this we found that the thongs brushed the cumlips and dragged across the
meatus, catching on the coronal rim of the cockhead, picking up beads of
precum oil, which was by then bubbling up from the cumhole, and flicking
the spicy stuff up into our faces.

When the first spurt of white cream appeared at my boy Sam's cumslit, I got
my mouth down on him and suctioned out the niagara of hot boy froth, while
he writhed and yelped, feeding my cumhunger until there was nothing left in
his heaving balls to give me. I swallowed him to the root, and ground my
teeth lightly on the base of his shaft, squeezing out the final squirts.
Then, just to make sure there was no more juice in him, Ed showed me how to
give Sam's whip-red, tooth-marked semi-hard cock several more swipes with
the flail.  That produced a last drizzle of cum, which was the tastiest of
the whole load.

Needless to say the same scene was played out in the crotches of the other
three whipping boy's and Zack's as well.  And around the circle of watchers
there was plenty of hard thrusting into gulping young throats with mancream
welling up and spilling out of the sucking mouths.  Some of the guys pulled
their suckerboys to their feet and tongue-fucked into their lips avidly,
eating their own cum out of the kids' mouths and licking their own daddy
semen off the flushed faces.

After Ed had licked the last of Zack's cum from the red swollen cockhead,
he said in closing, "If you're lucky enough to have a big-dicked boy,
you've got to keep reminding him who's boss and make him believe that he
deserves all the punishment that you want to dish out to his meat.  You'll
find that the cum from a big well-whipped boycock is spicier and heavier,
and more delicious than any other teen cream you eat."

As a finish, he grabbed Zack by his balls and pulled down on them squeezing
hard, making the boy moan.  "WHAT ARE YOU, SLUT?" he yelled.

"I'm a freak, Sir, I know I don't deserve to have such an ugly monster
dick," the boy gasped.

"AND WHAT ELSE?" Ed shouted, giving the balls another vicious twist.

"And...and...THANK YOU, SIR, THANK YOU FOR WHIPPING MY DICK AND SUCKING OUT
MY FREAK CUM!"

Ed smiled and gave Zack's cock a little caress and a pat, as if it were a
pet that had done well.  Then he turned and acknowledged the applause of
his audience.

Clearly Ed had trained Zack very well.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet time for the boys and the men, who
needed to store up their strength for the night's festivities.  The kids
swam in the creek or slept under the trees and the men napped in their
tents or wandered out into the woods.  We did observe, though, one of the
rituals of the weekend Saturday Club camping trips.  That is the
"Suck'n'Fuck Ramble."  Three or four of the boys who hadn't had much use
yet were taken out onto the main hiking trail through the woods and tied to
slender birch trees or bent over fallen tree trunks as "comfort stations"
for the guys who wanted to take an easy ramble through the woods as their
afternoon activity.  Moving easily down the wide trail in twos or threes,
the men stop at each of the boy comfort stations and take a quick drink of
teen cum, engage in some light ass fucking, or feed their daddy meat into
the warm boy mouths, not bothering to shoot - just keeping the boys in
practice for the evening to come.

We don't eat much on the Saturday evening, because every man and boy takes
his magic "blue pill" about six o'clock and, as we all know, the sex pills
work better on an empty stomach.  The pills are provided by the club out of
the members' dues and are freely available during the orgy nights: the boys
usually need another two pills later to keep going, hard and potent, all
night long.  Strangely enough the men don't seem to need so much stimulant,
but of course they aren't being relentlessly milked and forced to fuck hole
after hole for hours at a stretch.  They can take time out and just walk
around the various tents watching the action or sit in their chairs around
the fire listening to the sounds of debauchery echoing around the clearing
while their juices begin to build up again in their nuts.  And let's face
it, you don't always have to be rock hard to suck a kid's cock or sit on
his his stiff dick.

After the pills are passed out, we have the "Drawing" to set up the "Abuse
Rosters" for the new boys.  Each of the member evaluators gets at least an
hour with each of the new boys, partly to check their suitability for our
sort of fun and partly to see how the prospective new members react when
their boys are put through their paces.  There's a sack for each boy with
slips of paper numbered 1 to 8 in each.  Every man draws a slip from each
bag and that indicates his turn in the "roster".  Members are allowed to
trade slips if they draw the same number from each bag or if they want to
spread out their playtimes over a longer period.  Obviously number 1 is the
most desireable position and number 8 the least.  Getting to use a kid
who's still fresh and inexperienced in the depravities of the club is a
great treat.  But there's also plenty of fun to be had even in eighth place
with a boy so corrupted by the lascivious games that have been played with
his body during the night that you can do almost anything you want with
him.

Last weekend the major interest was in the "Rory Abuse Roster", but there
was plenty of interest in the Alex roster as well.  Each boy was placed on
his own in one of the big tents, along with his father, or bringer - John
and Cal - who were required to sit in a camp chair and watch the
proceedings without taking part unless they were specifically invited.
While the new boys are being initiated in the large tents, the other tents
in the clearing are the scene of a constantly changing carnival of sex
games with the other boys.

Cal Strunk turned out to be a disaster as a potential club member.  He was
pushy, trying to join in the scenes in Alex's tent even though not invited,
and he grumbled constantly about his nephew being "spoiled" by all the
"overuse".  This was partly because Alex's virginal appearance made many
members want to push him as far as they could toward corruption.  Cal
physically shoved one member out of the tent when the man told Alex that he
was going to piss in him mouth (something we don't encourage, but allow on
special occasions).  Finally, not being able to stand watching anymore, Cal
left the tent and tried to crawl into other tents and interrupt or join
"programmes already in progress" as they say on TV.

John Grant, on the other hand, was a model applicant: he watched all the
action attentively and willingly helped when needed.  When one of our
members with a "monster cock" (even bigger than Rory's) was fucking the boy
on his back, John, at the member's invitatio held the kid's ankles over his
shoulders to open up his asshole to the monster cock's invasion.  John
knelt, I was told, so that his own pendulous balls and long limber dick
brushed across Rory''s face as the lad bucked against the shocking invasion
of his ass.  And at one point when John stuffed his balls into the junior
stud's mouth to smother his yells, he was heard to mumble, "Shit up and
take it, you little pussy."

When it was my turn to sample the many delights of Rory Grant (I was number
4 on the roster) I was ready and primed.  I'd spent about 45 minutes
earlier face fucking Alex's pretty mug until I was ready to feed him, then
pulled out and made him beg me for the milk, which I eventually shot into
the palm of my hand and forced him to lick up like a cat lapping milk from
a saucer.  Then I pushed his face into my crotch and let him clean me until
my whole crotch was gleaming with spermy boyspit.

Waiting for my turn on the Rory's teen beef, I sat on the ground outside
his tent, listening to the guy with the number before mine have his fun.
Fortunately this was Tom, the member who loves ball play.  He spent his
whole hour torturing and nutcracking Rory's two handfuls of teenballs, so
when I entered the tent, the kid's prize cock wasn't too sucked out to be
immediately useful, although his testicles were red and ripe, swinging
heavily in their sack.  Tom is such a nut freak he doesn't even care if the
kid cums while he chows down on his nuts: he just likes to hear the boys
squeal.  (I should add the Tom has full dentures, so that he can take his
teeth out when he works on a boy's nuts and gum him until the victim almost
passes out!)

I knew exactly how I wanted to spend my time with Rory, or rather with
Rory's cock, since it wasn't the whole boy I was interested in that night,
just a very prominent appendage he was lucky enough to possess.  I greeted
John, who had been sitting in his chair watching Tom work over the duck
eggs between his son's legs for almost an hour, and I asked him to help me
untie the lad from the tent pole in the centre of floor where Tom had
secured him to keep him from trying to get away from his talented fingers,
his squeezing fists, and his gnawing gums.

I told Rory to lie down on the orgy mats we that spread on the floor of the
big tents, with his legs together and his arms stretched out to his sides.
Luckily Tom hadn't popped the kid's nut, so his meat was still turgid - a
good sign that he had responded well to hard use and didn't "shrink up" as
some kids do when they're first used roughly.  It was a simple matter for
me to grease up his teenpole with some of my special flavoured lube and
straddle his stomach on my knees so that I could position my cock-hungry
asshole directly over the meat tent pole standing stiff and tall from his
crotch.  I reached around, took hold of the slick warm cylinder, and
brought it to my ass pucker, then slowly sank down onto it, inch by inch
until the giobes of my butt rested against his upper thighs.  I let the
warm poker marinate in my ass juices for a while, humming deep in my
throat, with my head back and my eyes closed, savouring the feeling of
absolute fullness inside me, anticipating the ride to come.  Then I began
to move up and down slowly - first just an inch or two up and back down,
then after a while, three inches up and down, then four and five inches,
until my ass channel was so alive and raging with desire that I finally
lifted myself almost all the way off the ten inch ram-meat and plunged back
down on it, again and again, riding it, letting my crotch circle and buck
and rock on it in a gathering frenzy of fuck fever.  I reached for one of
Rory's hands and wrapped it around my own cock.

I ordered, "Jerk me, kid...beat my meat while I ride your horse dick...oh,
God, yes, yes...jerk me harder...work me Rory...get with the rhythm...up
and down...follow my fuck beat..."

Eventually the full ten-inch up and down movement wasn't enough.  I had to
have more.  I lifted my body up so far the cock head popped through my
assring and slipped out entirely, but I immediately sat back down on the
thing, letting it force its way through the sphincter ring, as if I were
raping myself on this boy's pony dick.  At intervals I would take a little
rest in my ride, letting my ass sink down full bore on the pole, and just
let the fullness deep in me send its waves of warmth through my whole body.
I milked the base of the big boy sausage with my ass ring, and used my
fingers to pinch his big nipples hard, so that he arched up into me with
the pain.  Then, gathering strength again, I started riding hard, finally
reaching a full, wild gallup with my head tossing back and forth and my
hands slapping blindly at his pecs and his shoulders, goading him on,
making him thrust up desperately to meet my downward plunges and draw back
on my upward moves, his meatus popping out of my hole, then punching
ruthlessly back in, like a small fist, jamming into my stomach.  When he
began to wimper and hyperventilate, I knew the climax was near, so I rose
up just enough to position his cockhead right inside my ass ring muscle,
which I fluttered around the ridge of his glans until a spate of warm
boysemen flooded my hole, the big erector muscle throbbing against my
asspucker again and again.  I could feel the thick cream leaking out and
running down my inner thighs.  When the gushing stopped, I opened my eyes
and looked at the kid's father, who was staring, mesmerized by the scene.
I panted "Get over here, Dad, and eat your son's cum out of my asshole.  I
guarantee it'll be like nothing you've very tasted before."

He was slow to get out of the chair and move around behind me, but I could
sense that he wasn't going to pass up this chance of a completely new
experience.  Rory's cockhead was still inside my ass ring, but the rest of
his massive shaft was visible, still quaking, covered with the overflow
streams of cum.  "Get down and lick the jism off his dick shaft first,
John, then I'll let you felch the really good stuff out of my hole."

I could feel his forehead against my ass crack as he moved his face in to
lick at the cum-slick rod: then I could feel the hair of his head brush
against my ass cheeks as he tongued down the long tube to lick up the sperm
puddling on his son's balls.  The sensation was so exciting, I lifted up
further, so Rory's big meatus popped wetly out of my puckerhole and I said
"Okay John, time for the main course.  Get your fucking face in my ass and
eat it."

The licking was a little tentative at first, but as he tasted the exotic
combo of cinnamon flavoured lube, musky ass juice, and sweet boysperm he
ate with a "cumming" appetite, forcing his tongue through my sphincter to
tickle the satiny inner skin beyond, teasing out every drop of the nectar.

Rory still had his fist wrapped around my own cock, but he had stopped
jerking me long ago. as he approached his own climax.  Now, with his
father's tongue eating his boy's cum from my ass, I knew I had to shoot off
too. I pushed forward so my cock was inches from the boy's lips - his
father following me with his tongue on my pucker all the time - and with a
few quick pulls, I brought off my own eruption which sprayed across the
boy's lips.  It was another good sign for his future with the club that
Rory, the moment he felt the first spurt semen on his mouth, raised his
head and swallowed the spuming cock, eagerly sucking at the milk like a
hungry calf.

I think the guy who followed me on the "Rory Abuse Roster" that night may
have had to work pretty hard to get any more juice from the kid - or maybe
he was an ass man and was happy just to pork the boy's butt for an hour.
It didn't matter: I'd had my fun and was content.  I was considerate
enough, though, to feed the boy another little blue plll before I left, so
that within the hour he would be hard and raring to go for several hours
more.  Before I left the tent I pulled John Grant's face from between his
son's legs where he was still licking up the "leavings", and put him back
in his observer's chair, reminding him that he could only take part in the
fun if he was invited by the member using the lad.

For the remaining hours of the night I mostly laid on my back in the middle
of the clearing, looking up at the stars, and drinking in the sounds that
echoed around me.  There's something magical about listening to one of your
friends rough milking son in the tent next to you, and another guy felching
the cum out of your other son's butt with lip-smacking slurps in the tent
beyond.  A cock-hardening chorus of voices washed over me: "Please
Sir... please...don't do it again..." a kid pleaded, his voice cracking
under the strain of having tit clamps tugged off nipples.  "Oh,
God...there...yes, right there...right on the tip..." another young voice
begged, over the buzz of an industrial-sized vibrator pressing against his
cumlips. The weary groan of a kid being milked for the sixth time...the
high squeal when the candle wax dripped onto young nuts...The astonished
gasp when the second cock forced its way into a tight teen asshole...the
indescribable noise from a ball-gagged boy getting his cock and balls
chewed on..these were the delicious sounds of the Saturday Club camping
orgy. And there were the men's voices too: strict, gravelly, and
urgent..."wider, bitch"..."on your knees, pussy".. in one tent a man
shouted "again!...again!...again!...keep on bitch...eat me!"..and in
another a crooning voice said "that's it baby...that's the way to make
daddy feel good...just a little deeper baby...you can do it."

The morning after the camp orgy many of the sleeping bags were so caked
with cum they had to be burned.

The late breakfast scene on Sunday morning was hushed, with everyone moving
in slow motion, the men like athletes who'd run the marathon, and the boys
like zombies staggering mindlessly.  Gradually the tempo livened up, almost
to normal: some of the boys took a last dip in the creek.  The men sat
around the dying embers of the fire, drinking coffee, reliving in their
conversation the night's high points. Every man heard from the others how
well his boy had performed, and possible games for the future were
suggested.

I could tell from the way the members treated Cal that he was never going
to be asked to join the Saturday Club: it would be Ed's job to call him and
tell him early in the week.  But the comments about Alex made it clear that
he would be added to our "extra boy" list and that members would call him
from time to time to join our regular Saturday sessions.  About John Grant
and Rory there was clearly unanimous approval.  And I knew that soon I
would be giving him a formal invitation to join our group.  Rory promised
to be a very big attraction.

On the ride back to town the three boys dozed off in the back seat, their
bodies entangled in the easy intimacy of young guys who share very dark and
very lewd secrets.  I gave John some pointers about how to handle the
situation with Rory at home, which promised not to be too difficult since
John's wife has her own international executive placement agency and
travels for weeks at a time.

Tomorrow I've invited the two of them to my house, for a swim and a
barbecue.  I'm divorced, with my wife getting the condo in Maui and me
getting the two boys, so my place is the Saturday Club playhouse, and I can
have men and their boytoys in any time I feel like it.  I've also asked Ed
to bring another of his special boys, one conditioned to flogging while
tied to the St. Andrews cross in my sound-proofed games room.  After the
show, we'll turn him over to Rory, Jess, and Sam to play with while we old
guys sit and watch. At the end of the evening I'll tell John that he and
Rory have been accepted as welcome members of The Saturday Club.

[End]