Date: Sun, 8 Jan 2017 15:48:32 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Canvas Hell: Canvas Hell 5

Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/camping/canvas-hell) for
warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved.
Includes sex between young-adult men. Go away if any of that is against
your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like,
but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty
**TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

Suddenly the tent flap pulled back and Karl stepped inside. I saw his eyes
go to my forehead (still wet with streak of cum), my tee shirt still
hitching behind me, my chest glinting wetly, the bandana I'd been staring
at. When he got to the bandana, very much not where he'd left it, I knew I
was so busted. Wide eyed disbelief flooded Karl's face as he realised (a) I
knew he'd just jacked off; (b) I'd touched his cum rag maybe even his
*cum*; (c) I had wanked too; and {insert cartoon eye-pop here} (d) I might
have spooged knowing all of the above. FUCK!

*****
Canvas Hell 5: The Woods at Night
By Bear Pup

T/T; self-discovery; angst; healing; first touch; wanking


Karl caught his heel on the tip bar as he tried to escape the tent, falling
and recovering quickly. He left at a pace that left little doubt of his
physical power and speed. I collapsed back on my bunk and started to remove
all I could of the 'white Brylcreem' from my forelock. After days of
emotional turmoil and an epic orgasm, I just didn't have the energy to
figure out what to do about/for/with Karl. I used my canteen to rinse out
his quite-soaked bandana, squeezed it dry and flapped it about for a bit
before folding it and leaving it on Karl's pack. I tidied the rest of the
tent, picking up the flotsam and jetsam that teen boys inevitably
generate. The triangle called us to supper and I trudged to the mess hall.

Jim was there, bright and energetic as a puppy. He was chattering away
about what he and Karl had done in wilderness survival and what they would
'get' to do over the next four week. I let his piping voice wash over me. I
was not frowning or surly, just... numb. Jim finally wound down enough to
notice.

"What's wrong, Patrick?"

"I... Well... It's nothing, Jim. {Inventing wildly} Just down over the
nasty food we have to eat." Jim set off on that topic for a few minutes and
came to a screeching halt.

"You're lying. Why? What happened?" His honest concern was obvious.

"I fucked up, Jim." My dropping of the F-Bomb brought Jim up short and I
knew I had to give more. I whispered, "Karl, um, Karl got back earlier than
I expected and caught me, um, you know..." UBSL (universal boy sign
language) substituted for actual words.

"Oooooh."

A conversational hiatus ensued until Jim broke it with, "So what? He said
he did it. You said EVERYONE does it. You saw it b, be, being, you know,
done to me. So what?"

Before I could even imagine a response, Karl sat his tray down next to
Jim. He ate without looking up. Jim stared from me to him and back like a
Wimbledon spectator and just as mute, obviously waiting for the tension to
break but feeling (I'm guessing) too young to do it. About halfway through
what could charitably be called stew, Karl stopped and looked at me.

"Why?"

I stared for a minute, then looked around. "Can we do this someplace else?"

Karl shrugged and grabbed his tray; Jim and I followed. I don't really know
why, but I walked to the amazing place that I'd found on my first
afternoon, the tiny dell with a cascade. The 20 minutes gave me time to
think, but I had nothing. We sat on some rocks off to the side.

Jim stared in wonder. "Whoa." It really was beautiful. The late-afternoon
light caused the air to glow. Bees glided from flower to flower. Ferns
rustled in a sensual and ineffable manner. The spring burbled and the water
flashed reflected highlights as it leapt from stone to stone. "This is
amazing! How did you FIND this, Patrick?"

"WHY?" Karl's harsh voice cut across Jim's wonderment.

"I don't know Karl," I saw him start to inflate, "no, Karl, that the real
truth. I ran to the tent planning to, you know... and the smell of, well
{Karl blushed; my eyes went straight to my shoes and never left them},
your, you know, session hit me. I imagined Sherry and even Darlene,
but... thoughts kept interrupting me..."

"What thoughts?" Jim was fascinated and puzzled; I ignored him.

"Then I saw that bandana."

"What bandana?"

"Shut up, Jim. Please. Let me get this out.

"That bandana that you used to catch or clean up your, um, your stuff. I
didn't know, HONEST! I saw it lying there and picked it up and felt your,
well, wet stuff. And the scent hit me. I don't know, Karl. I DON'T KNOW
why. I just made me, made, made me lose it."

By this point, the tears were dripping onto my shoes.

"But... why?"

Karl was genuinely confused and perplexed.

"I don't KNOW, Karl. I, I, I just, I don't know!"

The last thing I expected was a calm and confident voice from Jim.

"Well, of course, you doofus! People are animals! Smells are how animal
mark their territory and announce their readiness to mate. Karl, they told
us all about that today. Bear and foxes and shit? They scent-mark because,
what did the guy say? Nothing makes a stronger impact than smell. How could
any guy NOT get excited by, you know, another guy's, um, well, stuff? Why
is that weird?"

"Because we're both guys!" I found myself whispering. "I'm not a lady bear
or a vixen or a... a girl. I'm a GUY! I should never have, ha, have been
in, interesting in the smell of a, a guy." Yes, I was pouring tears by
then.

"Well, now that's just crap." Jim, the satguru was back. "I don't know what
smells make guys, you know, ready. How do YOU know? Maybe you would have
even been hornier if it had been a girl's, um... Sorry, do girls have, you
know, cum?"

To this day, I can't tell you want flipped my switch from disgust to
hilarity, but I whooped with laughter. I fell off my rock and realised that
Karl was trying desperately not to laugh. Jim was red with indignation,
sputtering.

"WELL?!? DO THEY?"

Gales of mirth greeted the question, to the point that even Jim was
laughing. When we recovered, Jim's quiet and serious voice whispered
conspiratorially, "I mean, do they?"

I looked and realised he was desperate to know. It was an important
question for him. "Jim, I don't know. I know they orgasm {his eyes popped}
but I don't know if they, well, if anything, well, you know, comes out."

Karl's whopping laughter broke us up again. I recovered first. When the
hiccoughing subsided, I looked as Karl and said, "Karl, I don't know
why. But..." I steeled myself and then simply let it out, fear and worry
loaded into each syllable. "But I never came like that Karl."

His eyes, like Ginny Greenteeth's, wide and frozen, were my universe. I
went on, "I don't care if you both hate me. I don't care what it means. It
was the best, you know, that I ever imagined. I dream of things. I wake
up... sticky." I hung my head like I was incapable of looking at anything
other than the leaf mould. "I never dreamed that it would be THAT
good. That... beyond. That... GOD, I don't even have words! I'm sorry, but
I don't care, Karl. It was the best thing that ever happened to me."

A preternatural silence enveloped the glen. Not even the bees inhaled. My
eyes flicked for a few nanoseconds to each of the faces, trying and failing
to pretend that I didn't care. Both looked like the image of a shocked
victim after a tornado, interviewed on TV news. If someone broke out with,
"It sounded jest lahk a train," it would not have shocked me. It was again
Jim's wise-beyond-years voice that shattered the spell.

"Then it's stupid and seriously messed up to pretend, don't you think?"

Jim's gaze went from Karl to me, back and back, weaving a fabric. Neither
of us moved, looked or reacted. I don't care what you think and I don't
care if it made me a wuss or a pussy or a baby; I lost it and escaped,
weeping and running through the game trails of the island. I was not an
outdoorsman or tracker, but I instinctually knew that nothing, no one,
nobody could follow as I twisted and jinked through the forest. I ended in
the hollow of a giant, ancient tree. Grief, tears and all of my dreams of a
future poured out of my rolled-to-a-ball self and into the leaf mould in
the boll of that beech.

I jumped as if shocked. "So, what do we DO, Karl?" Jim's voice was rife
with fear, awe and concern.

I heard someone, Karl? come toward me and my sobs simply redoubled. The
thought of him seeing me here, like this, after knowing, knowing THAT, left
me mindless. All I knew was grief and fear and need.

"We help him, Jim. Like he helped y, you. Like he help, helped m, m, me."

I felt a feather's touch on my shoulder and hadn't the strength to even
react. Everything I had was poured into my tears. My fears. The jeers I
expected. I was, to put a Shakespearian tone to it, undone and unmanned.

I sensed Karl sink to the ground behind me. Moments later, Jim, crouched to
my front.

I screamed in despair when Karl's arm reached round me, and almost died
when Jim's tentatively embraced me from the front. I was enfolded
in... in... in caring?  Maybe in compassions? May, maybe in... love?

I cried myself dry as they held me. Rocking and murmuring. I was destroyed,
despairing, desperate. I pulled and struggled at times but neither loosened
his grip. I occasionally paused, unable to cry any more, and both continued
to tell me they cared and that it would get better. The sobs receded. I
finally regained some sense of myself, and unutterable shame washed through
me.

With renewed energy, I pushed them off and glared. "You don't have to
pretend. You don't have to do this. I'm going to the Major and going
home. I do', don't want, want you to do this, I want, want to..." I broke
and cried, "I want to go HOME!" The passion in my voice rung in the tiny
clearing.

"Are you actually brain damaged?" Jim's voice. It was like ice-water down
my spine. "You didn't care when I told you I, I well, I liked it! You
didn't care when Karl said that he, he, he did... that to kids. Do you
SERIOUSLY thing we'd give a, a FUCK that you blew a load in your own
private TENT to the amazing smell of another guy's ORGASM?

"Seriously, Karl, I think he may actually be too stupid to live. It's
probably best to leave him here to be eaten by, by, whatever eats kids out
here. Creeping barbed wire? One Eyed Jack? Let's go back to the tent and
you show me what he smelt, thinking about sexy guys getting the rocks off a
few inches away. Excuse me if I shoot a load after you leave. God almighty!
Patrick may really be too dumb to save."

The, I don't know, the outrageous unfairness of that broke through my sobs.

"You little FUCK! You're like, NINE! You have no IDEA what it's like! You
can't, can't, can't IMAGINE..."

Both of them had hands to their faces. I was so mad, so worked up, that it
took me several spittle-slinging splutters to realise that they were on the
knife's edge of hysterical laughter and that they'd done this on purpose.

"You, you, you fucking FUCKS!" Admittedly not the best or most grammatical,
witty or cutting of comebacks, but I was reeling. Those two fucking FUCKS
dissolved in laughter. I sat hiccoughing until I suddenly saw it from their
perspective and dissolved in my own mirth.

It was odd. All three of us went from gut-knotting laughter to utter
sobriety at the same instant. Jim, again, spoke first, voice quiet and
tentative, "Are we okay now? Can we be friends again?"

"We never weren't friends," I whispered, "and what you just did for me,
both of you, is greater than anything anyone ever gave me." I looked at
Karl, his face serious, curious, perplexed.

"The three of us saved each other, you know?" Karl's voice held a sort of
reverence. "I was eaten away inside, like a disease or something. I really
did want to die. Patrick made it better. When you were attacked by those
three, Jim, you were shredded. I don't know I'd ever seen anyone so lost
and alone as you were that morning. Patrick knew exactly what to do, and
made it better. When we got back from the boat, though, telling you what
I'd done and you forgiving me, that healed me. Without you AND Patrick, I'd
be so damaged I don't know if I could really live. I think it was the same
for you, Jim, and then it took both of us to heal Patrick."

It was by far the longest speech I'd ever heard from Karl. Frankly, it was
the longest speech from any of us since we got to Camp Sin that didn't
involve screams, sob and self-hatred.

Jim moved forward. Karl I stood frozen, but Jim came again to the
rescue. He grabbed the two of us and pulled us into a three-way
hug. "Karl's right," he said in a small but confident voice, "we are each
other's heroes."

We hugged and breathed together for a few minutes; no thought of sex
(shocking for healthy teen boys), no thoughts at all (NOT shocking for teen
boys), more lost in the comfort of knowing that someone cared.

Sometime later, Karl broke the silence, "Um, guys, I don't know if either
of you noticed, but it's kinda starting to get dark?"

All our heads snapped up and looked around in surprise. Yeah, we were well
on the way to twilight. There was light high in the trees but little else.

Both of them turned to me. "Which way back to camp?"

"Well, I was running away and crying like a little girl. I have no
clue. Which way did I go when I left the dell?" Identical looks of complete
confusion stared back at me. Oooookay.

"Well, at least you two are in Wilderness Survival."

Jim look positively alarmed now. "They only talked about what we were GONNA
learn, they didn't teach us!?!"

Karl smiled and put his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Patrick was just
kidding." Karl bug-eyed at me as a cue.

"Oh? OH! Yeah, just kidding. We'll be fine. Let me think for a minute."

I doubt paintings get stared at as intently; I was the sole object of their
attention as they waited for my brilliant and stunning plan for returning
to camp. AH-HAH! It finally struck me.

"Nope. I've got nothing," the look of panic was too much and I laughed. Jim
weakly punched me in the side; Karl not-so-weekly punched a charley-horse
into my bicep. "OW!"

"Okay. Good news bad news. Bad news is, I admit, that we have no frigging
clue where we are. The upside is that we are on a tiny little spit of land
with water on both sides. One is a lake thing and the other is a river. If
we get to the river, we can just, I don't know, throw in some leaves. The
camp is near the upstream end. We go there."

Pretending to be far more confident than I felt, I struck out and the two
fell into step behind me. It took forever and we never did find lake or
river -- game trails vanished in brambles or turned back on themselves;
tiny streams had deceptive that voices bounced off rocks so where we
thought the bank stood was actually the stream; Each of us tripped several
times, always managing to drag one or both others into a tangled mess. Jim
was quite obviously scared and I could tell Karl was getting nervous. For
some inexplicable reason, with light completely gone and the moon just
rising, darkness felt comforting and safe to me; I gained confidence as
quickly as they shed it.

We rounded a set of large stones when everything suddenly clicked. This was
the spot where that beautiful deer and I had startled each other so badly
on that first afternoon. I knew exactly where we were and how to get back
now. In fact, we'd very soon reach the point we could see the fire rings
and hear the roughhousing. The little clearing brightened a bit with
moonlight... and relief.

Okay, in retrospect, what I did was stupid, mean and selfish. In my own
defence, I had been on an emotional roller-coaster and was, in fact, a
teenaged boy (for which stupid, mean and selfish are synonyms). A devilish
smile crept across my face as I plotted the perfect setup. A few minutes
into the forest, I suddenly came to a stop and gasped.

"Shh! Did you guys hear that?" Woods at night are never silent. Breezes
tickled leaves, small animals scurried about the business of eating without
being eaten and things naturally shift. But together, all those tiny noises
are far more silent and spooky than an actual absence of sound. Jim and
Karl froze, nothing moving but their huge, white-edged eyes and heaving
chests.

"THERE!" I shout-whispered. "Be real quiet for a minute and don't move." Is
there anything worse than telling someone NOT to move? You go instantly
from frozen stillness to a state where every muscle and nerve itches to
run. I carefully worked around them and saw their horrified gaze follow me;
my smile widened to evil glee.

I took a few steps back along the trail we'd just followed. I had timed it
so that we had just passed a kink in the little game trail so I was almost
immediately swallowed by the dark forest when I rounded the tree trunk. I
paused and counted to ten, silently turning.

I put on my best 'about to be eaten' face, leapt back around the tree and
screamed, "RUUUUUUUUN!"

It was a Scooby-Doo cartoon. Jim and Karl levitated several feet straight
up and their legs were already pumping furiously before they hit the
ground. Okay, I may be evil, but I'm not so thoughtless that I would let
them run further into the forest. I had made sure that the 'run straight
ahead like a madman' option would put all of us back in the middle of
camp. I kept adding sound affects like, "OH MY GOD!!!" and "NOOOOOOOO!" as
I followed. I can tell you a couple of things: Karl can move as quick as a
snake but has no real endurance; Jim, on the other hand, was a fucking
antelope leaping from rock to branch to path.

He easily outdistanced me and Karl. Jim hit the back wall of the admin
building like a bullet. He spun, backed against the structure and seemed to
be trying to claw his way backwards into the siding. Karl collapsed next to
him and I stood with arms on knees desperately trying to regain my breath.

"Wh, wh, what was it?"

I heaved and panted, perhaps a bit more theatrically than actually
necessary. Jim and Karl were fixated on my face, flicking glances to the
woods but desperate for me to tell them what murderous nightmare was
chasing us.

"S... S... Sk...."

"WHAT?" they cried in unison, Karl was now erect and he and Jim were
clinging to each other in abject terror.

"S... S..." I let my own eyes go wide with horror. "Squirrel!"

And then I lost it. It took them a minute to realise that I'd pranked them,
and pranked them hard. They suddenly melted like wax and dribbled to the
ground, gasping in ragged breaths. Relief quickly (and justifiably) turned
to outrage and they started slapping and smacking every part of me they
could reach. I was laughing so hard that I couldn't fight them
off. Suddenly, though, Jim, always the one with his head in the game,
became my worst person nightmare: The Inescapable Tickler.

I would have howled but was already breathless with mirth. Karl quickly
realised what was happening and gleefully joined in the tickle-attack. Each
shallow breath not devoted to a squeal was a plea for mercy. Mercy? Yeah,
not even I thought I deserved mercy. I begged in rising panic until I
recognised what was about to happen. I hadn't done it since I was twelve
and Uncle Dave pinned and tickled me until I peed.

Karl's hand, having slipped off an assault my ever-so-sensitive knees,
happened to be in my crotch right when it started. "Jim! Stop! I mean it."
Karl pulled Jim off me but it was too late. I was in full flow and still
giggling insanely from the tickle-aftershocks.

Jim was appalled at what he'd done when I finally came down from the tickle
high and looked at the huge, spreading wetness at my crotch. He started to
stutter a near-crying apology. "Jim. JIM!" I hollered. "I deserved
that. Plus, I expect after what I did to you, you'll both find a little
yellow in your own undies. I mortified, but I'm not hurt." My face was
glowing scarlet to the point we didn't really need the flashlight we'd all
be desperate for before. Karl was laughing quietly and had his arm around
each of us as we walked.

Between my assurance and Karl warm strength, we got Jim calm and smiling
again. As we reached the Hygiene Hut, Karl leaned over and said, "Why don't
you head to your cabin, sport? Quiet. I think we're out way later than we
should be. If you miss bed-call, you'll get in trouble. I'll help Patrick
since we're in the same tent and they don't check us til last."

Jim apologised again, made us swear solemn oaths that we would meet him for
breakfast, then set off at a trot. Karl was right. The fire-rings were dim
and there were no shouts and laughter indicative of boys playing. We were
after lights-out, probably by quite a bit.

Karl and I went into the Hygiene Hut and I stripped my pants and undies and
realised that even my tee shirt was wet with piss. I handed them blushingly
to Karl who busied himself rinsing them out under a tap. Evidently the
showers were only heated when it was legal to use them and the water was
frigid as I rinsed off, trying not to wail at the cold. I emerged shivering
and Karl helped me dry off, each of us with a tiny towel in each hand.

Karl was intent on his task and certainly not thinking. I felt his hand
drag one towel up my crack and another up my junk. I sucked in a breath and
prayed that he didn't notice that my cold-shrinkage was not just gone, but
now strongly counteracted. I stepped away a little, pretending to finish my
armpits. An accidental (I swear) glance showed me that Karl was boned, and
boned up hard.

It struck us at the same time and our heads swivelled to when my clothes
laid dripping. He'd rinsed out my clothes, which was great. But it meant
that I had to choose between sopping wet pants (do you *know* how hard it
is to get into wet jeans?) or a towel the size of a handkerchief. It was
probably forty yards to the tent. Karl saw the look of abject horror on my
face as it went slightly more red than a setting sun. "W-w-w-what am I
g'gonna DO?"

"I got this."

Karl stepped quickly outside and was gone for no more than a second. "There
is no one, I promise. Not a single person anywhere. The other guys are in
their tents or cabins and the adults and leaders are making rounds far away
from here. It's forty yards to the tent. I'll take the wet clothes so you
can run faster. Get to the tent. Get the flaps down. I'm right behind
you. My head was bobbing up and down like a demented dashboard
ornament. His plan, ANY plan, was better than I could come up with in my
mortified, cold and desperate mind.

He stepped out again and held the door for a moment. "GO!" he
whisper-shouted.

There is a spooky legend told around campfires about a ghost, pale white
and glowing red, that moves like lightening through camps on an unknowable
and sinister mission. I am the cause of that legend. Even if someone was
there to see, the only impression would have been a blurred streak,
ghost-white to about five feet and fire-red from there up.

When Karl got the tent several years (seconds) later, I was sitting on the
cot whispering, "didanyonesee?didanyonesee?" like a gerbil with a mantra.

"No, Patrick, no one. It's okay, Patrick. You're fine. I'm the only... only
one who saw." Karl was next to me, arm around my shoulder trying to calm
me. Why the *fuck* was I so unnerved by a simple naked run? Was it because
somebody might see? That didn't 'feel' right. Was it because Karl might
see? Also not 'right'. Suddenly I noticed the vocal catch when Karl had
said, ' the only... only one' and it struck me. It's because I was
terrified that Karl would see *and not care*.

I turned to look at Karl. Since it was just off a full moon, the tent was
fairly well lit. His eyes were wide and he was starting at me in a mixture
of fear and hope. I took his arm from my shoulders.

"I cheated, Karl. I got to smell and feel your, um, stuff but you
didn't. It's not fair." His eyes widened more.

"You mean, you, you mean I can..."

I nodded.

"Do you want me to go outside or, or, or can I'I'I w-watch?"

A sexual energy ran through me like nothing I'd imagined, a shiver and a
gasp and a desire rolled into one whole-body sensation. "Please?"

He seemed disappointed and leaned toward to flaps.

"NO!" His head snapped around. "I mean, please, will {gulp} will
you... watch? Please, Karl?"

He moved to his cot but was shaking like a leaf. I don't think I'd ever
done anything that brave or stupid in my life, before or since. I saw
Karl's eyes fixate on my hand as it moved to my aching hard dick. My eyes
never left his face, basking in (and terrified by) the hunger I saw there.

I laid back and began to stroke, gently, softly. I watched the changing
expressions as Karl went from hunger to fear to lust to need to fascination
and a dozen other emotions. I was going to go so slow. I was going to make
this last sooooo long just to keep his face like that.

If you buy that for a nanosecond, you were never a horny teen. I got about
two slow strokes in when Karl sucked in a shuddering gasp. My hand began to
fly as I flogged my dick with the kind of need normally only seen in people
dying of thirst. Up and down, dragging my hand from glans to balls,
whipping it frantically. Subtlety and pace and technique could come later
in life; right now I needed to seed before my body, mind and soul
imploded. My grand plan to stretch this out lasted until Karl again drew in
another ragged gasp and I fucking erupted, my head back, neck stretched,
back tight, ass clenched, a cum volcano spewing molten lava across the
land.

Rope after rope, pulse after pulse. Karl was as transfixed as I was. It
kept coming as I kept cumming. I stayed silent (I never made much noise
when I came, but that night I hadn't the breath to spare for more and a
squeak). I finally tapered off and noticed that Karl had a massive and
spreading wet spot in his pants where his hand had unconsciously scritched
and scratched himself through the fabric to his own orgasm.

His eyes found mind. I could see his lips trembling, pouty and flushed. He
swallowed over and over again, as if trying to control himself. He reached
a hand, shaking like palsy, to the head of his own cot and grabbed the
bandana that started this whole thing. He leant forward to wipe at my
chest. When his hand touched me, we both let out low "OH!"
groan/moan/gasp. He went to pull away. To this day I don't know where this
came from (the guts, the strength, the willpower) but I grabbed his wrist
and held it in place.

<eof>

Where should Karl and Patrick go next? Many of your ideas and suggestions
helped get them to this point, so let me know.