Date: Mon, 20 May 2013 20:18:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ben Ezra Jacobson <ben_ezra_jacobson@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Graduation Canoeing Trip

Dear Nifty...the story that follows is additional data from my journals of
some adventures at Graduation from High School with some of my friends.  We
graduated on a Thursday night so many years ago...and left the next morning
for a week end Memorial Day camp out.


THE GRADUATION CANOEING & CAMPING TRIP
By Dr. Ben Ezra Jacobson, PHD, - Literature


     I was reading in some of my old journals the other day in which I
recorded the events of graduation from high school.  My class was about
three hundred students and we were all chomping at the bit to wrap it up
and to get on with life.  There were a lot of parties here, there and
yonder...but I went camping and canoeing with my best friend Greg Whitacre
and our mutual friends, Jim and Joe Baynebridge, a pair of red haired twin
hotties, with whom we had been long time companions.

     We started planning this graduation trip several months before the
eventful day.  It was suggested that it might be prudent to stay close to
home over traveling many hundreds of miles to an exotic destination.  We
settled on an Illinois river spelled Embarrass and pronounced "M-bra"...and
planned on camping at a small state park below the dam called FOXRIDGE.
The canoe trip down the river would be about twenty or so miles.  The river
was still, with an ever so slight current.  It was popular with the
University students near by for floating on inner tubes from the old iron
bridge upstream down to the lake below.

     On the Friday morning after graduation...while many of our friends
were getting home from being out all night... having hangovers, and having
their pants pockets full of girls underwear...we were rising with the sun
and packing our cars for the short trip to the iron bridge over the
Embarrass River.  We would leave one car there and the other at our
destination.  With a canoe on each car top and the trunk full of camping
gear, fishing gear and food for the four day adventure...we loaded and
left.  Our parents would check on us a couple of times during the duration
and finding us all well and contented...would have a picnic supper with us
and then return to their homes...leaving us to enjoy our celebration.

     At the state park, we set up a large dome tent...suitable for four and
then drove back to the Iron bridge...a distance of about ten miles as the
crow flies but with the curves of the river back and forth...would be a
water destination of nearly twenty miles.  By nine o'clock on that Friday
morning...we were unloading the two canoes and putting in a cooler of soda
pop, some snacks in water tight containers in case we should capsize, life
preservers for the four of us, four paddles and an extra in each canoe in
case one should break, insect repellent, and sunglasses...and shoved off at
half past the hour.  The water was a brownish green until we got into the
current and then it looked and smelled better.  The morning seemed so quiet
on the water as the blades of the canoe paddles dipped into the water.  The
stroke of the paddle made little whirl pools around each dip.  Old trees
leaned out, over the water and every so often, we would see rock ledges
along the river side.  There were quiet a few summer camps along the river
and we would see boat docks with fishing boats tied up to them.  It was
unusual to see a power boat because of stumps in the river.  We referred to
them as "deadheads" and tried to be careful not to run upon one.  When we
did, the stump was usually soft and the canoe would glide over it if the
people paddling would lean to port or starboard side.  At some points, the
channel was shallow and we cold feel the sandy bottom of the river with our
paddles.

     At one point in the river, we had to make a decision to turn to the
right and take a short cut through the Lanman's slough or continue
southward and go around a small island called Dockiack.  We opted for the
latter and rounded the little island and saw no indication of campers nor
wildlife.  My friend Greg suggested that we might camp on the island
sometime...but it was not a clean island like those we had inhabited at
White Sands Lake in northern Wisconsin...but was more of dried mud footing
that was often wet.  It would have been a perfect habitat for snakes and
other river creatures.  I cringed as we paddled past.  It took about an
hour to reach the local lake where we paddled around the perimeter rather
than directly across the lake.  If one capsized...it was always nicer to be
close to shore.

     We could hear the roar of the spill way ahead and exited at the boat
ramp, carrying our canoes up the ramp and setting them on the grass at the
top.  Here we rested for a few minutes and then proceeded to carry or
portage our canoes to the area below the spillway...a distance of about two
hundred yards.  When we laid the canoes on the grassy area below the spill
way...we rested again a few minutes and stopped to talk with some of the
fishermen.

     "Hi, are you catching much this morning," Greg asked of a local.

     "A few small cats and a snapper," he replied.  In a large ice chest
full of water...he raised the lid and showed us a huge snapping turtle.

     "Ugh," said Joe Baynebridge, "what you going to do with him?'

     "Ahhh, he'll make great turtle soup," the fisherman replied, with the
sound of pride in his voice. "Ain't you ever had turtle soup boy?"

     "No sir, I can not say that I have," Joe replied.

     "Only thing that tastes better is a little pussy," the fisherman
replied and everyone around him laughed.  Joe laughed too, to show that he
was a good sport.  Later in camp he would recall that the thought was
revolting to him.

     We put our things back into the canoes and pushed off, heading down
stream.  After paddling about a mile...we came upon some college guys
floating on inner tubes down the river.  Below the spill way...the current
had picked up a little speed but now, it was meandering slowly in the lazy
summer sun.  Their were five college guys laying across the tubes, their
bare legs and chests obviously beginning to sun burn a little.  In their
laps, each had a portion of what had once been a six pack of beer.  They
sang songs, and laughed at each other, made cat calls to the rock ledges
and were much engaged in enjoying themselves to the max.

     One of the floaters called to us, "Where you dudes headed?

     " We are going to canoe to the state park and camp there.  Do you know
how far it is," we asked...knowing exactly how far it was.

     "Oh about 30 miles I would say," one of the college guys said, "you
will not make it by dark."

     "Our map says it is about six miles," Jim Baynebridge said.

     "Map's wrong," said the blond haired guy from his inner tube.  "I've
floated this river many times...and the park is a long way away.  You will
have to camp along the river before dark."

     "Well, maybe so," I responded.  "Where did you start from," I asked?

     "Just below the spill way," the dark haired floater said.

     "At the boat ramp," I asked?

     "No, we couldn't put in there," he answered back.

      "How come," I asked again.

     "Cause we are all naked...and the lake patrol would not have allowed
us on the water that way," he responded, as he raised his mid section out
of the water.

     "Damn," exclaimed Greg, "You've been floating naked all that time down
the river?"

     "Sure enough," another floater said, "and we are going to stay that
way all the way to the end."

     "Where you getting out," Greg asked.

      "No idea," the blond floater said again.

      "And do you have anyone meeting you with a car and clothing when you
finish your float," I asked.

     "Damned if I know," said the dark haired floater...and they all burst
out laughing and started to sing the old beer song...Ninety Nine bottles of
beer on the wall, Ninety Nine bottles of beer..."

     Jim and Joe were whispering together about the conversation.  "What
can we do to help them, Ben?"

      "I don't know...they might not even let us help them," I responded.
"What do you think we should do...or not do?"

     "Well. We can't just leave them naked on the river bank...can we," Jim
asked staring back at them.

     " I don't know...do you want to take them into camp with us...nine in
our tent would be too crowded...besides, we don't know them," Joe shot back
at us.  " I'm for leaving them to their own devises."

     "Ben, we can't just leave them and let them get themselves into
trouble.  Ask them if they will let us help," Greg replied.

     "Maybe we could drive them back to the college," he said?

     "I don't know...it just seems awfully risky to me," I countered.

      "Well, ask them...anyway," he responded.
     Against my better judgment, I turned back toward the floaters and
asked

" Could we give you a ride back to the university or somewhere?"

     "You could, but I don't know where we live," one floater replied...and
again they all laughed.  "Or we could stay at your camp and when it gets
dark, we could show you how college men like to fuck young high school
boys...all night."

     That was the deciding factor.  We laughed and went along with their
joke, but increased our paddle stroke and was soon out of ear shot from the
floaters.  They were still laughing when we last saw them.

     Greg who was not known for practical judgment, turned in his seat at
the bow of my canoe and said..."we could have had a mess to deal with, had
we stuck around.  Still, I would not have minded playing around with a
couple of them."

     We laughed.  Good old Greg, always seeing the more adventuresome
spirit.

We came to very shallow place in the river called "Walker's ford" and there
we beached the canoes, and carried them up the dirt pathway into the state
park.  My wrist watch said 5:00 PM.  My stomach was getting empty...and all
I could think about was building a fire in the camp fire pit and grilling
some burgers on the grate.  After securing the canoes with some chains and
a padlock to a tree in camp...we lit the charcoal fire in the grate...and
two of us drove to the shower house to clean up.  On our return, the other
two did the same.  We added some hickory logs that we had purchased at the
state park wood yard...and settled in to preparing an evening meal.

     The fire was going nicely and we had a good bed of coals in the
bottom.  The park had built grates out of a metal that looked a lot like
half inch concrete rebar...on which we added a smaller grate with quarter
inch divisions.  There is little as frustrating as being hungry and to have
the burgers fall through the grate into the coals and burn up.  We had
placed aluminum foil wrapped baking potatoes into the coals a half hour
earlier...and now we added foil wrapped ears of corn and some green peppers
and onions wrapped in a second foil pouch.  By the time the burgers were
done...we took burger buns toasted lightly on the grill, the onion and
pepper combos, mustard, and Velveeta Cheese to the burgers in the buns and
had a great feast.  As soon as the food was on the table, we set a large
metal bucket on the fire to boil, for dish water.  The supper was relaxing
and a lot of fun.  The clean up didn't take too long and it was good to
 hang the dish towel on a section of clothes line, to dry over night.  We
sat around the fire and reminisced about our days activities.  One day was
gone...but what a day it had been.  We had paddled around twenty miles but
did not feel too worse for wear.  The sun had just gone down and as we fed
the fire, sticks...and laughed about our adventures...a slow moving car
came around the bend of our camp with it's bright lights on.  We wondered
how inconsiderate a person could be to drive with bright lights shining in
the faces of the campers.  We heard someone from the car say, "There they
are."

     Two college guys got out of the car and approached our camp.  We all
recognized the two and thought...here is the beginning of some
trouble...but to our surprise...the conversation was much different.

     Both of the fellows looked to be about twenty years of age.  One
approached us and said, "Hi...I am glad we found you.  We wanted to
apologize for our buddy's crude remarks back on the river.  He was just
having some fun at your expense...Steve and I did not think that you may
have known that.  We are really sorry if he shook you up.  He's a nice
guy...but sometimes he says some pretty stupid things."

     I walked forward a little bit and answered back, "That's OK, we knew
he was just B.S.-ing us for joke."

     "That's right," Steve said, "He is like that, but he really doesn't
mean anything bad...he just likes the sound of his own voice."  We all
laughed.  "I told Preston that we should try to find you guys and
apologize.  We were afraid that you would think that he was threatening
you.  He's really not like that at all when he is sober."

     "That's right," said Preston... "He's a really descent person when he
hasn't had anything to drink."

     "We weren't concerned in the least," I lied.  "Think no more about
it."

     "You guys are ok," Preston said again, "Do you mind if we enjoy your
fire for a few minutes before we return to town?"

     "Not at all," I said...looking around to make sure the other three
were not hiding behind a tree, preparing to spring upon us.

  "So what happened to the other three," Greg asked?

     "We drove them back to the university.  They were too drunk to
complain.  We all came out to the river together in Preston's Studebaker.
After we got them back to the dorm, we decided to try to find you guys...to
make sure you knew that there was no meanness intended," Steve volunteered.

     Jim spoke up, "We have already had supper...but would you like a Coke
or Pepsi?"

     "That's the best we can do," Joe added, "none of us drink anything
other than soda or tea."

      "That would be great," Steve replied back.  "Preston and I do not
drink very often...only when we are out with the other guys.  They didn't
notice that we ditched most of the beer that they gave us.  Guess it is
kind of stupid to put on a front, but we like the activities...but not the
conditions after they get liquored up."

     "Well, you don't have to worry about appearances with us," I said.
"What you see is what you get."

     Preston smiled, "Actually, Steve and I already figured that out.  It
is not cool for college men to hang out with perspective freshies...but we
thought you guys seemed really cool...and we sort of wanted to hang out
with you...if you did not mind too much."

     "We don't mind at all," Greg spoke up.  "You are safe with
us...scout's honor.

     "Greg..." Jim snapped at him.

     "Are you guys all scouts then," Steve asked?

     "Yep, all of us...three Eagles and one almost an Eagle," Greg shot
back.

     "So are we...well, Preston is and I missed it by two merit badges,"
Steve replied.  "Guess it is too late now."

     "Not so," Greg added... "not until you become twenty one...you should
finish it out."


     "I know you're right...and maybe I will," Steve answered back.

     Joe Baynebridge got up and started mixing up a Dutch oven dessert.  He
took a couple of cans of cherry pie filling and some Bisquick flour and
stirred it together and set it into the coals...placing more coals on the
lipped lid.

     "In a little bit...we will have some dessert," he said.  "Jim, did you
remember the whipped crème topping?"

     "Sure did, but I had planned on using it for something else," he said,
grinning from ear to ear.  We all laughed.

     Steve looked at Preston, and smiled.  "We don't know what you are
talking about...but we like it for other things too."  Again we all
laughed.  Here we all were, two seventeen year old graduates, two eighteen
year old graduates, a nineteen and a twenty year old college
student...coming together on the same wave length.

     Greg looked at me...and raised his eyebrows.  I shrugged my shoulders
and smiled back.

     "Do you guys have your camping gear with you," Greg asked?

     "No", Preston remarked back.  "I haven't had any camping gear since I
came on campus."

     "I have a sleeping bag and an air mattress...back in the dorm," Steve
added.  "We hadn't planned on camping...just floating."

     "Would you like to stay with us, here...tonight," Greg continued.  "We
could open the sleeping bags and throw sheets over us...and if you do not
mind being six men in a five man tent...your are welcome to stay.

     "Oh, we should probably stay at the dorm tonight," Preston said.

     But by the time we polished off the cobbler and had another round of
Cokes and Pepsi's it was getting close to mid night and the gates to the
campground had been locked for a half hour.  That ended the discussion on
their leaving.  As the fire died down to just embers...we pushed the ashes
onto the remain coals and headed to the tent.

     The tent was shaped like an oval dome.  We put our clothing and
personal effects at the small ends with our sleeping bags open in the
middle.  Since we had four bags...we left them closed and took a couple of
large old faded sheets to throw over us.  The window flaps were open so the
breeze could come through.  It was always warm with four of us in a five
man tent...but with six...it would be warmers...and the night did not
propose getting much cooler than about sixty five degrees.

     Greg was the first one into the tent and sat on the end bag taking off
his shoes and clothes.  He stripped down naked.  Jim and Joe were
next...and they too stripped naked.  Preston and Steve came into the tent
next and when they saw the first two naked...they peeled off their tee
shirts and swimming trunks and joined the others in nakedness.  I was last
and secured the screen door, and took off my clothing.

     Joe Baynebridge looked our guest over and commented that they were
hung about as well as the rest of us.  The truth was...they were hung about
like the Baynebridge twins...but were much better endowed than either Greg
or myself.  In the tent, with six naked guys...we all knew there would not
be much sleeping this night.

     The college guys, to show that they were friendly...felt us all up and
sucked us, and massaged our backs and fronts.  Jim and Joe were a little
hesitant...having only played with each other and with Greg and
myself...but when Steve and Preston rolled them over onto their stomachs
and rubbed down their shoulders, back, butts and legs...they were soon
relaxed and trusting.  Greg and I sort laid side by side and played with
each other as we watched the college guys relax and stimulate the twins.
Preston got Joe Baynebridge up on his hands and knees and rimmed his
sphincter until Joe was whimpering in erotic bliss.  Steve was doing the
same to Jim Baynebridge.  They took a generous helping of lube and applied
it to the affected area and then treated them both to a slow entry and some
slow movement...pushing in and then pulling back until both of them were
thrusting back for deeper penetration.  I had brought some old towels from
the
 camping box at home and threw each one, one to put underneath of
themselves.  Joe was the first to ejaculate with out being touched on the
outside...and Jim followed shortly there after.  Flipping them both over on
their backs, reinserting their penis's into their sphincters...Preston
stroked Joe with more lube until he fired again.  Jim however was not
getting a second orgasm until Steve went down on him with his mouth and in
a short time...triggered a second orgasm with an ejaculation into Steve's
mouth...which he swallowed.

     They looked at us.  Greg and I were so interested in how our canoeing
buddies were doing...that we had not culminated yet.

     Joe Baynebridge reminded us, "You guys know the rules...no one sleeps
until everyone has got off."

     Preston and Joe came over where Greg lay next to me.  "Get up on your
hands and knees, Greg," Joe instructed.  Preston got behind Greg...lubed
him up and started pushing his dick slowly into Greg's sphincter.  Joe got
underneath, laying on his back, started sucking Greg's dick and tickling
his balls slowly with his finger nails.  Greg was getting hot fast.  He
gyrated and moaned in pleasure.  It only took a few minutes and Greg
announces, " I am going to cum."

     Preston started thrusting with all he had...his dick squashing Greg's
prostate gland.  Joe pulled Greg's dick out of his mouth and started
stroking it and rubbing his balls with lubricant.  It is hard to keep a
slippery dick from pulsating.  Jim scrambled to his knees and put his hand
over Joe's mouth because he knew he was going to scream uncontrollably at
the point of ejaculation and orgasm...and true to form...as the
electrically satisfying of a thousand needles of eroticism pulsate through
Joe's body...he ejaculated...seven, eight, nine large shots of cum.  Steve
who was watching the event from underneath, pulled back as the white sticky
liquid just shot everywhere.

     " My gosh," he exclaimed, "he'd drown anyone who was sucking him from
underneath."

     We all laughed.

     My turn came next and I had four working on me at the same time.  It
was very intense and extremely satisfying.  It did not take me as long as
it did for Greg because having watched the others...I was ready to go.
Maybe I lasted two and a half minutes.  With every drop of semen sucked out
of my body...I was suddenly ready for sleep.

     After the sex games were over...we all lay down on the sleeping bags
and covered with the sheets...drifted quickly into slumber.  Greg was
behind me and Steve in front of me...I was surrounded by testosterone.
With Greg's dick near the the crack of my ass, and Preston's big dick
pointed towards me...I went to sleep in utter contentment.  Several times
in the night...Greg scooted closer and I could feel him feel for my
sphincter and put his hardware on the it's surface and press against me
with out going in.  Preston also, during the night reached over and fondled
me and I did the same back to him.  It was a great night.

Saturday Morning

     I woke up laying on my right side facing Greg.  He was turned with his
feet at my head and his head at my feet...well relatively so...because he
had just popped my dick into his mouth and was making slow, wet strokes on
it.  His dick was facing my face...and as I took a hold of it, he pushed
forward and stuck it into my mouth.  There is nothing like a little 69-ing
to get one hot fast.  As I went up and down on his rod...I felt Preston
smear lube on my sphincter and start the process of inserting.  Last
night...it had taken him a while to work it in because he was so big.  This
morning after applying a little lube...he gave one good shove and it went
in always up to the pubic hair.  He must have been thinking of it all night
because in just a few moments...he was shooting his load into me.  It did
not take Greg long to give me his load...which I spit into the same towel
that had been a cum catcher last night.  He continued to
 work on me...and I wanted to cum...but something was just not right.

     "Get up on your hands and knees, Ben," Preston had directed.  As soon
as I did...he lubed his longest finger and inserted and started massaging
my prostate gland.  The penis and prostate must be first cousins...because
as soon as he started pressing on it...and Greg was jerking me with
lube...I had a mega orgasm and ejaculation...that made me weak in the legs
for a few minutes afterward.

     Steve seemed too tired to want to repeat... this morning...and when he
told us that he was too done in...the Baynebridge twins seemed
relieved...because they had got each other off a good hour before.

     After breakfast...our college chums put their things back into the old
Studebaker and waving good bye...left the park as soon as the gate to the
campground was open.  It had been a peculiar day yesterday...and last night
had been very intense orgasmic... with all of us having extreme pleasure in
the site of our most exquisite reasoning...our dicks.  Now it was time to
start our day...and all I could think about was how nice a good nights
sleep would be.


      Jim and Joe talked to each other about taking a hike.  There was a
seven miler that skirted part of the park.  They packed some lunch into a
back pack and several bottles of water and started off.  Greg and I went
back into the tent and took all of our clothing off and curled up next to
each other under the sheet and went soundly to sleep.  There is something
nice about sleeping naked with a buddy and being so close that you or
he...has your dick between the others legs.  I kissed him on the cheek,
threw my arm over his waist and went promptly back to sleep.

     Mean time, Joe and Jim hiked a couple of miles and found a log
pavilion...open on all sides with a fire place at the end.  It sat on a
hill side and had a narrow stairway of stone going up the side to a
promontory over looking the river below.  There were two picnic tables made
of logs, end to end.  A plaque over the fire place stated that the pavilion
had been built in the 1930's by the CCC boys during the Great Depression of
1929 to 1941.  There was a nice breeze and rain had washed the table tops
clean...despite being under the shake shingle roof.  Joe and Jim ate part
of their lunch and drank some of their water...and sat on the table tops
and reflected about the night before.

     "It was kind of fun last night, but I would have enjoyed it just as
much if Steve and Preston had not found us," Joe said.

     "Yeah...I know what you mean.  It is kind of fun to dick around with
college guys...but I would not have been unhappy if it had just been the
two of us," Jim replied.

     Jim swiveled around and lay down on the table top and put his head in
Joe's lap...as he stared down at the river.  Joe, as he was want to
do...ran his fingers through his brothers hair and then rested his hand on
Jim's shoulder.  They sat in that attitude for about twenty minutes.
Finally Jim sat up, took another swig of his water.  He put his arm around
his brother's shoulder an leaned his head against the other shoulder.

     "I am ready to hike a bit further," Joe said, "How about you..?"

     "Yep, me too," Jim replied...and giving his brother a kiss on the
cheek, jumped off the table and slung the back pack onto his shoulders.

     They started back down the stone steps and at the bottom step, turned
back onto the trail and headed south.

     The sun was hitting high noon and my wrist watch said two minutes
until twelve.  I sat up and threw the sheet back, away from me.  Greg was
still asleep, laying so peacefully next to me...sporting a rock firm hard
on.  I reached over and took a hold of it.  It could not have been more
erect.  I leaned over and kissed it right on the tip.  As I did so...he
hunched and popped it into my mouth.  I sucked it just enough to make it
slick...and with the help of some sun tan screen...stroked it with the
lotion.  It only took a few strokes and he erupted with thick white semen
oozing out the head and running over the sides.  Greg always was such a
heavy cummer.  He arched his back in a cat like stretch...and said thanks
and that he needed that.  I don't know how he needed it considering he had
now ejaculated at least a half dozen times since we set up camp.

     "I am going to slip into last nights clothes and go grab a shower at
the shower house," I said.  "Do you want to go with me/"

     "No," he replied... " I want another 40 winks.  You go ahead and I
will go when you get back."

     "Ok Buddy...but don't sleep so much that you can not sleep tonight," I
offered.

     "Ok," he responded.  I knew that he was going to go back to sleep.

     With yesterday's blue jeans on and a white tee shirt on my
shoulders...I slipped my feet into my tennis shoes with no socks, grabbed
my towel and shaving kit and walked over to the shower house.

     The shower house had communal showers.  There were two young guys
taking a shower with their dad...and another younger guy who looked like he
was about my age.  I stepped out of my clothes, hung my towel on the towel
rack and with my soap and razor...stepped under the shower head to wet
myself down.  Shaving in the shower is something I learned from the
Baynebridge twins...to save time.  The two boys and their dad dried off and
dressed...then left so the other young dude and I were standing under the
water at opposite ends of the shower room.

     "Do you always shave in the shower," he asked..?

      "Just started doing it...to save time.  Learned that from a couple of
friends," I answered back.


      "Aren't you afraid of cutting yourself without a mirror," he asked?

     "Yeah...but after you nick yourself a few times, you get more
careful," I responded.

     " I shave in the sink with the mirror because I do not like to nick
myself," he returned with a big grin.  "Sometimes I have to have help."

     "Help," I asked, "you look pretty capable to me," I fired back at him.

     "Oh I am, but for swim team, we have to shave all of our body hair for
less drag...and there are places I can not see nor reach," he answered
again with a grin.

     "oh...Oh, I get it...yeah, that could be a problem.  How do you manage
that, I asked him.

     " I have a man-scaping buddy.  We shave each other," he offered, "Have
you ever tried to shave your own ass or balls...it's a dangerous
proposition."

     " I have not," I answered, with a laugh.  Once I took the scissors and
cut my pubic hair real short to keep the sweat from PE making me have a lot
of body odor.  Pubic hair holds the moisture, as you know...which makes for
more bacteria, and more bacteria makes more odor."

     "Right" he said, "and that is another plus for keeping the body
shaved."

     "Don't you hate it though when it starts to grow back, and itches like
a son-of-a-bitch," I exclaimed.

     "Well, that is another reason for keeping the shaving up, You don't
get pubic stubble and it doesn't itch," he replied.  Guys like you who have
straight pubes instead of curly ones...might profit from having it groomed
shorter."

     "What color and texture is your pubic hair when it comes in," I
asked...knowing that it was probably tacky and presumptuous...but he did
not seem to mind the discussion at all.

     "Black like yours, but curly.  No girl wants to give a blow job with
perspiration soaked pubic hair," he suggested.


      "Right," I bluffed, " I know what you mean.  I'm Ben Ezra Jacobson."

     "David Dorset...Dave to my friends," he answered back.

     He watched me shower and shampoo my hair.  I wondered what he was
thinking.  Straight guys do not usually watch another man shower...but he
watched me intently as he chattered away.

     "Dave," I asked, "how long does it take to manscape your whole body."

     "About 30 minutes if you do the balls and ass too...and I always use
one of these disposable plastic razors," he said...holding up the dark blue
razor.

     "Would you like to have some help with the back," I asked, expecting
him to decline and maybe give a rebuke.

     "Sure he said," handing me the razor and the bar of soap.

     I lathered up his back and his butt and shaved the hair, rinsing the
razor free of black hair.  Sensing my uneasiness about how to shave his
balls, he laid down on the bench at the other end of the shower and pulled
the scrotum tight with his hand.

     "This is the hairy part...pardon the pun...but if you do not hold the
sac tight, you will nick the skin," he instructed.

      I put my hand around his scrotum, pinched it tight and very carefully
shave his balls and the area at the base to his rectum.  With my hand
manipulating his balls...I notice his penis was stiffening until it was at
full mast.

     "Sorry about that," he replied... "that always happens.  It will go
down in a couple of minutes."

     "Do you want it to go down," I asked.

     "Well, who doesn't enjoy getting a hard on...but that usually means
that you need to do something about it...and a public shower is not a good
place to jack yourself off," he answered back with a sheepish, embarrassed
gesture.

  "There's no one here but the two of us," I said, "whose going to know or
care?"

     I took a handful of soap and worked up a lather in my hand and then
slid it over his shaft and stroked it a couple of times.  He pulled away.
Thanks Ben, but no thanks.  I-I-I-I'm, ah, straight and can't do that sort
of thing.

     "Sorry Dave," I apologized... "does your girl friend get you off?'

     "No," he stammered, " I am not seeing anyone right now."

     "I see...than there is no one to get mad at you for having an orgasm
and ejaculation in the shower...is there?"

     "No, but if I do this...I might get to wanting to do it again...and
everyone would find out and I'd be branded as queer.

      "Dave...who is going to know it besides you and me...and I would be
branded too if I said anything," I reasoned.

     Again I took more soap and stroked his dick.  This time he did not
pull away.  I could tell by his breathing that he not only was enjoying
it...but that he was beginning to relax from his self condemnation.  I took
the bar of soap and swished it in the crack of his ass and began to play
with his orifice.  He leaned a little forward to give me a better access.
I applied another round of soap...and pushed my finger in a little.  When
he did not protest...I pushed it deeper and felt his prostate gland which
felt like a hard walnut.  This guy had not been off in a long time to have
a prostate that large and that hard.  I began to massage it...and turned
him in the shower spray just a little...and put his dick in my mouth and
sucked up and down on it.

     "I can't do this Ben...I can't do this," he said, but he did not pull
away.  He began to shake and made these erotic and pleasure laden moans.
"Stop Ben, I am going to cum."

     I did not stop...but increased the pressure and the stroke.  He shook
harder as he ejaculated, spurt after spurt all over my chest and shoulder.
I pushed harder on his prostate...and he shot a big load that was tinged
with a trace of blood.  He groaned again...almost a moan...and then
collapsed into my arms.

     I caught him and kept him from hitting the shower floor as the
cascading water washed all traces of our sexual encounter down the drain.
The door to the shower house opened...and two young men came in, in sports
clothing.  Seeing my distress at trying to keep Dave from hitting the
cement floor...one grabbed his shoulders and the other his feet and laid
him on the bench outside the shower stall.

     "What happened to David," one said...looking squarely at me, as I
stood naked before him and dripping with water.

      "I was taking a shower at my end of the shower room," I stated, "and
he started acting peculiar and somewhat incoherent.  He acted like he was
going to black out and I ran over and grabbed him so he would not hit his
head on the concrete floor."

     "He's a champion swimmer at our college in Utah," the other one said,
" but he has had these black outs before."

     "Really, " I asked, " you mean he has fainted in the shower before?"

      "Yeah, several times.  We think he might be hypoglycemic or
something."

      "He's a college student then," I inquired.

      "Yeah, he just came back from a church mission to Brazil and enrolled
in school and the swimming team...and now has had this seizure of sorts
again." they replied.

      "He was a missionary," I asked again.

      They looked at me like I must be hard of hearing and slow.

      "Yeah, a return missionary...and a good one for sure...but troubled
in some way...kind of like ghosts from his past," the other one said.

      As David started regaining consciousness, they helped him dry off,
and dress.  With their arms around him for support, he turned to me and
said, "Thanks Ben for talking with me and for helping me...I guess you kept
me from hitting my head on the concrete.  I'd like to see you again
sometime, to talk further...if you are willing.  Thanks for coming to my
rescue."

     As they helped David out of the shower house...I rinsed off in the
shower again and thought... "of all the rotten luck...to sexually assault a
return missionary..of all people.

     I rinsed off, dried, and dressed and returned to camp.  Greg was
sitting at the picnic table having a snack and wondering where I had been.

     "He must have been damn good to keep you in the shower for this long,
Ben," Greg teased.

     "Greg...you will never believe what has happened.  I feel terrible.  I
may have just messed up a guys life forever," I snapped back at him...and
went into the tent to think.

                                 .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


     With the setting of the Saturday sun, the air cooled for a more
comfortable evening.  Then, an ever so slight breeze made the camp fire
feel welcome.  As Greg and the Baynebridge Twins sat around the fire
talking about our day...a shadowy figure approached the fire.  I had not
discussed the meeting of David Dorset with my cronies so when he walked
into the light of our fire, I stood up.

     "Hi Ben," he said in a calm still voice.  " I wonder if you would have
time to talk to me a bit..?"

     "Sure Dave...let me introduce you to my camping partners...Greg
Whitacre, Joe Baynebridge and Jim Baynebridge," I responded... David
Dorset."

     They all said hello back to him and gave him a friendly wave.

     "Ben, could we walk down the road to the campground gate, for a bit of
a one to one conversation?

     "Sure," I said and got up, walked around the fire pit...and headed to
the road with him.

     I expected some wise crack remarks from my camping buddies...but no
such comments were made.  With my flash light in hand, I strolled beside
him towards the gate.

     "What's up Dave," I asked?

     He chuckled and then looked me straight in the face.  " I have some
explaining to do, Ben.

     "Dave...you owe me no such explanations," I responded.

     "Oh, but I do.  You see, my friends told me that they had told you
that I was a return missionary from my church...and sexual escapades
outside of marriage are forbidden.  What happened today could cost me my
membership in my church," he stated.

     "Are you going to tell them," I asked?

     "We are supposed to," he answered back.

     "Well, Dave...it was not your fault...it was mine.  You told me `no'
several times and I thought you were just playing hard to get.  You were
not the one who did anything wrong...it was me," I tried to reassure him.

     "Your too kind Ben...but I could have pulled away or forcibly stopped
you...but I didn't.  I didn't want to."

     "Then how is it wrong," I asked?

      "Because the church by laws and doctrine says no sexual activities
between other people out side of the bonds of lawful marriage...and for
guys with guys...none," he responded.

     "David...if I can give you my thoughts on this...if you are certain
and committed to a life of celibacy until marriage...then I would suggest
that you use today as a bench mark, and not get involved in this kind of
activity again.  You can say `no' and mean it.  If we had not allowed the
conversation to go to `manscaping' our interaction would never have
happened," I stated emphatically.

     "I know," he responded.  I did not want it to happen...but, I did want
it to happen.  I wanted to experience interaction with another man," he
answered back.

     "Weren't you involved then with the other friend who helps you
manscape each other," I asked.


     "Well yes," he answered, " but we just jerked off together...we didn't
do oral or anal.  I wanted to experience it once with some one...and when
you came into the shower room...I wanted to experience it with you."

     I laughed, "David...this is confusing.  You do but you don't?  You're
caught between your desires and your church setting parameters which you
are expected to follow."

     "It has torn me up pretty bad this evening.  I don't want God to be
mad at me, he responded.

     "Forgive me," I said..."but isn't God suppose to be all forgiving and
loving?"

     "Yes," he responded, "but non marital sexual expression is almost
always the line that we can not cross."

     "Then my friend," I replied back to him, " it might profit you to make
a list of the positives and negatives of your emotions and make a decision
which side of the line you are going to dance.  If you choose the
church...you will free yourself from guilt and self condemnation.  Isn't
the purpose of religiosity to change and conform to that which is suppose
to be spiritually elevating.  If you choose the sexual path...then embrace
it and do the best you can to love and be loved."

     Dave laughed, "Are you going to study to be a psychiatrist someday?"

     "Maybe," I smiled, "but what I am saying to you seems more like common
old fashioned `horse sense'."

     "So you are saying to me...make up my mind what I want...and then
start today working toward it?"

     "Right," I responded... "what do you want Dave?"

     "The best of both," he answered back.

     "My friend...that is not possible for people like you," I said,
looking him in the eyes.


     "I know," he said with a strained voice.  He leaned forward and hugged
me.  His body felt warm...and he smelled good...like the most manly cologne
that one could imagine.  He continued to hold me close...pressing the side
of his face next to mine.

     "Dave...this is not a good idea," I said...and pulled away.  "You have
a task before you.  You're going to have to decide where you go from
today...this could cloud your thinking and complicate matters."

     "I know Ben, but just let me hold you close for a couple of minutes.
No sex, just an embrace that is more than a split second," he pleaded.  His
eyes showed no malice.  I put my arms around him and held him close.  If
this continued very long...I was going to want him as bad as he seemed to
want me.

     A couple of minutes passed...quickly.  "Thanks," he said and kissed me
on the side of the cheek...then stepped back.  "We had better head back."

     Although it was dark along the path, I had to smile.  He was
attempting to conform to that which he believed was the correct thing to
do.  I wished him well.  He was one of thousands I am sure with strong
religious over tones that struggle with what they want and feel within and
what the doctrines of their respective churches dictate.  As we approached
the camp ground again..he placed his hand on my shoulder and again thanked
me for talking to him about his emotion.  I responded by telling him that I
wished him well...and that I would always remember our conversation.  He
shook my hand...looking around to see if anyone was watching...and
determining that we were not being observed...leaned forward and kissed me
on the lips...gave me a big grin and a pat on the shoulder...then turned
and walked away.

     "Ben...what was that all about," Greg asked with Jim and Joe looking
on.

     "Oh, just a guy I was talking to earlier about religion.  His church
is too strict for my gentile blood.  I doubt that we will see anything out
of him again," I joked.

     " I sure hope those missionary guys don't show up at my door," Greg
said.

     We all laughed.  I wondered what they would say if they knew the whole
story...but it seemed best to keep that part of the day to myself.

                                      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

     Sunday was another nice day.  There were open air church services in
the camp ground which we attended with the other campers.  We hiked a few
more trails and played some cards and chess in the afternoon.  The day
passed fast and before we knew it...it was dusk and the campfires were
stoked around the camp.  Today was Memorial Day.  Some of the campers had
left to return to their homes...but Monday was officially another holiday
since Memorial Day came on Sunday...so we would stay tonight and go home
tomorrow afternoon.

     We discussed going down to the river where the water was about waist
deep and wading and swimming...but we never got to it.  Perhaps tomorrow
would be a better day to go swimming.  We went to our tent about
mid-night...and the others went to sleep fairly fast...but sleep evaded me.
I lay on one side and then on the other...but could not get comfortable.
Finally I got up and went back to the fire ring and placed a few small logs
on the fire.  The embers blazed up casting anew light on the camp site and
the woods next to the area where the car was parked.  For a moment...I
thought I saw someone standing behind the car.  I rubbed my eyes and then
looked again.  There he was again.  What should I do?  On the spur of the
moment, I got up and walked to the edge of the parking area...and there
stood David Dorset.

      "Dave," I said... "Is there anything wrong..?"

      "No," he replied and turned and walked about twenty feet away.  I
followed him and again said, "you're out late...are you sure there is
nothing wrong?"

      "Nothing wrong, Ben."  Again he walked another 20 feet and stopped
and turned back towards me again.  I walked towards him again.  He repeated
this action until I was standing next to his tent.  He opened the tent flap
and shined his flash light inside...showing that the tent was completely
empty except for his personal gear.  Then he walked in, and held open the
flap for me to follow.  I stepped in and he turned out the flash light.
The tent became dark.  He reached out for me and put his arms around my
waist as he had done before...and leaned his head on my shoulder.  Against
my better judgment, I placed my arms around his neck...leaning them on his
shoulders...and stood silent...waiting for him to make the next move.

     "Ben, how old are you," he surprised me by asking?

     "I'll be eighteen in July," I responded.

     " Ben...I am twenty-two years old.  Am I too old for a friendship with
you?"

     "Not at all...what does age have to do with friendship," I asked?

     "Well, you remember our earlier conversation," he asked?

     "Yes," I responded, "of course."

      "Well, right now...if I made love to you...I would be breaking the
law because you are not yet eighteen," he answered back.

     "That's right Dave," I replied, "but why would I do that...when I was
the one who made advances to you.  You do not trust easily, do you?"

     "I have always been afraid Ben...of everything.  But I want to be
friends with you...and to share ourselves with each other."

      "But you only met me yesterday...how do you know you would want to be
friends with me...other than I gratified your sexual needs.  I might be a
complete jerk...and you would not want to see or speak to me again," I
suggested.

     " I feel something beautiful when I am around you.  I know that sounds
stupid...but you don't fly off the handle when someone differs with you and
you speak with logic and kindness.  Forgive me...but those are not the
characteristics of some crazy person," Dave expounded.  " I want to be
friends with you...and see you...a lot.  I want to see you now..."

     I laughed and replied, "well you are not going to see much of me now
in the dark."

      "I want to see you now...but not with my eyes," and with that he
kissed me on the lips and started to unbuckle my jeans and pull my tee
shirt over my head.

     I helped him pull my shirt over my head and stepped out of my jeans
which left me naked.  He quickly stepped out of his tee shirt and shorts
and both of resumed our stance in each others embrace.  He leaned forward
and kissed me again.  I returned the gesture.  Then he held me tight again
for a few minutes...and then dropped to his knees.  He took my penis which
was quickly loosing it's flaccid stance and run his tongue under the main
seam and around over the top and then the head.  This guy was not a novice.

     "Dave...you have done this before," I stated.  "You are not new to
this type of action...are you?"

     "No," he responded.  I had a buddy when I was fourteen and we
experimented with each other.

      "Much," I asked.

      "Yes," he answered.

      "But why all this pretense of being a stranger to sexual exploration
with another guy when you played around as a kid," I asked.

      " Because it was sin, and I wanted to forget it."

      "But didn't you have fun with your buddy and enjoy it," I asked.

     "Yes," he said, " I enjoyed it too much...and that was the sin."

     "Dave...there is hardly anyone who has not experimented a little bit
with a friend of the same gender.  Instead of regretting those intense
loving feelings, why not embrace them and remember them for the good times
and good memories they invoke," I pontificated.

       "Because they were...," he broke off.

       " Because they were sinful," I said...with a bit of frustration in
my voice.

     "Ben...I need your help.  I want to experiment with you and I want you
to show me everything you know.  I want to hear it, feel it, taste it...I
want to know the whole thing," he said with a certain insecure tone in his
voice.
     I held him close again, and then knelt down on my hands and knees and
played with is endowment.  He lay down next to me and I talked him through
the proper way to enjoy 69-ing...with me underneath, sucking up and playing
with his sphincter.  He was getting hot and how much more of the sixty-nine
position he could endure...was uncertain.

     "Ben, I want to role over on my stomach and have you insert and hump
me."

     "Are you sure, you want to do this," I asked?

     "Yes, ...here's the lube."

     I used the lube to stretch his sphincter to minimize the discomfort of
the first time he was entered.  When he was able to stand three fingers in
the orifice...I inserted my penis into his awaiting hole.  He clamped down
with his sphincter muscles as I pushed in and pulled back.  I had drained
his prostate earlier...and hoped that this would not cause undue pain.
Instead, he embraced the motion.  Then I had him turn over, and I
re-inserted and started stroking his cock with the lube.  He got to the
ejaculatory edge very quickly.  As his breathing increased...so did the
sensitivity on his dick...and with one deep breath...he fired, shooting
streams of semen into the air and all over his chest.  It was only a few
seconds later that I was in the middle of an ejaculation and I pulled out
and shot it on his chest so that he could feel the large splatters of my
semen on his body.  We froze in that position for a few more seconds.  He
 had a role of paper towels in the corner which he retrieved so that we
could clean ourselves up.

     After the hour of stimulation in which we had entreated each other.
He asked me to stay the rest of the night.  I had not told my tent partners
where I was going since they were all asleep.  I figured they would think
that something came up in the night :-).  Snuggling next to Dave with a
sheet over us...we talked about sex and religion for another hour before
dropping off into a profound sleep.

     When we awakened the next morning...we repeated the night's before
pleasurable interactions...only extending it by an additional half hour or
so.  I kissed him before opening the tent flap...and finding no one aware
of my presence there...hurried off to the shower house to grab a quick
shower.  When I got back to camp...my tent buddies were all grinning from
ear to ear...but not a one asked me where I had been or with whom I had
spent the night.

Monday Morning:

     We packed up shortly after the noon day lunch and returned home...each
to our own.  We pledged to get together as much as we could for more
camping trips that summer.  We had kicked off the summer season with a lot
of energy and fun.  That summer was mild all three months.  Moderate
temperatures...just right for swimming and a lot of sunshine and punctuated
periodically with enough rain to keep the parks green and attractive.  It
was a great summer.  I recorded almost every day in my journals because I
sensed that someday I would want to remember the great times we had when we
were young.  I can not emphasize enough the advantage of recording one's
daily activities for sometime in the future.  Our minds simply do not
remember the finite details of the years that are past.

     We continued to camp together and our friendships have endured over
the years.  Greg Whitacre and the Baynebridge boys all live with in a 200
mile radius of me...and I hear from them frequently.  We have had reunions
to camp and fish and go on float trips.  David Dorset...despite his deep
seated desires for male relationships did modify his behavior patterns...or
as he likes to state it..."repented of his sins," and married.  He and his
family live in the west and he writes at Christmas time that he continues
to be vastly happy.  I can not dispute that...just hope that he is indeed
as happy as he says he is.

     I cherish the memory of all the good times we shared in our youth.
Enduring friendship and the love we shared for one another has been the
crowning joy of our mature years.

                                         Ben Ezra Jacobson