Date: Mon, 01 Feb 2010 12:19:06 -0500
From: thorin@hushmail.com
Subject: Aden and Jason

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, completely a work of
fiction, and nothing but fiction.
********************

Aden is pressed up tight against me; my arms wrap around from
behind and cross over his chest.  He has his arms up; his hands are
locked behind my head.  The water from the shower flows warmly down
over us, swirling on the floor of the stall before circling down
the drain.  His pale skin is tinged pink from the heat.  If I could
make my body melt into his, I would.

The shower room is empty except for the two of us.  In fact the
entire camp is empty, my father having left with the bus to return
the most recent group of campers.  Aden and I have been left behind
to clean up and prepare for the next group.  The water from the one
running shower fails to fill the emptiness of the large room.

I'm half a head taller and three years older than him.  I press my
nose into his hair hoping to catch a bit of his scent, but all I
smell is the apple scented shampoo I used a minute or two before.
So instead I drop my head to the side and glance down over his left
shoulder.  He returns the light pressure as our cheeks come
together.  His eyes are closed; there is a faint smile on his lips.
 My arms and his block my view any further down than his chest.

I resume washing, the soap in my right hand, the left following,
rubbing across his shoulders and down his chest.  I move back to
each of his arm pits and allow my fingers to linger there, enjoying
the silky smoothness of his underarms.  His smile deepens as I'm
sure my touch is ticklish, but all I hear is a sigh, not a giggle.

* * * * * * *

I smile as I think back to when I opened the shower curtain.  I
would have laughed had I not been so scared.  Jason is shocked to
see me.  I'm only glad I didn't catch him doing something
embarrassing.  After all, the shower is one of my favorite places.
Instead he jumps a bit and stumbles for something to say.

"I thought I might ask you for help with my hair," I say, holding
up the bottle of shampoo, as if that makes the whole thing obvious
and OK.

I told myself when I planned this whole charade that I would look
only into his eyes, but I can't.  I am not disappointed, not in the
least.  Jason's body is gorgeous; everything I thought it would be.
 If there is a speck of fat anywhere, I can't see it.  His muscles
are sharply defined.  Of course that is not much of a surprise.  I
have been finding any excuse to touch him all week long.  Although
I had not seen him without his jeans and tee shirt, I knew that he
was lean and fit.

Finally, my eyes reach the spot of greatest interest.  I try not to
linger, but I can't help it.  I'm not sure what I expected to see.
His pubic hair is a light brown, a bit lighter than the hair on his
head.  And, that hair fascinates me, not yet having any of my own.
I can't imagine what it might feel like, but I know that I want to.

I stand in front of him, nude, guarded only by my bottle of
shampoo, and this time I can't help but let a small laugh escape.
Jason is clearly as entranced as I am.  He stares at me without
shame or hesitation.  I raise the bottle of shampoo a bit higher,
as if to emphasize my request.  That, plus I think my laugh, brings
him back to life.

"My hair," I say, "it's up here," pointing.

"Of course," he replies.  His is torn, uncertain what to do.  Then
he reddens and motions me into the shower stall.  I hand him the
shampoo and join him under the water, turning my back to him.  I
hear the bottle of shampoo snap open and then, after small moment,
feel his hands in my hair.

I explain that I always have trouble getting it clean.  It is a
pretty thin excuse, but if he sees through it, he says nothing.  I
prattle on a bit more about the past week, anything to break the
tension.  He remains mostly quiet, adding to the conversation only
occasionally.  He works the shampoo in and seems to linger at the
task, his hands work gently about my scalp.  After a short time he
asks me to lean my head back and he guides the water about to rinse
my hair clean.  As he finishes I reach for the soap in the dish on
the wall and, keeping my back to him, I hand it to him.  At the
same time, I step back so that I am against him.

The feel of his body against mine is electrifying.  For a moment, I
lose track of what he is doing.  I vaguely recall him placing the
shampoo where the soap had been.  The warm slipperiness of skin-on-
skin is intense.  I have never been close to another person like
this.  If I could make my body melt into his, I would.

He wraps his arms underneath mine and begins to wash across my
chest.  I lift my arms and reach behind me and clasp my hands
behind his neck.  He slowly traces the line of my shoulders and
then down my chest, the soap in one hand, the other following
along.  His head comes down and rests on my shoulder and I press my
cheek gently against his.  He slowly soaps each of my arm pits and
then allows his fingers to trace lightly within each.  The feeling
is more sensual than ticklish and I can't help but smile.

* * * * * * *

I was caught off guard when the shower curtain was pulled back.  I
was even more surprised at what I saw.  Aden stands there naked,
his soft pale skin almost glowing in the semi-darkness of the
shower room.  He asks me to help him wash his hair and shows me the
shampoo in his hand.

I try not to stare, but I feel transfixed.  Up till now, I've never
given any guy a second thought, but he is absolutely gorgeous.
Every line, every curve of his body, is perfect.  His skin is
completely bare except for the hair on his head, but I can see by
his definition that he is on the verge of manhood.  He repeats
something about me washing his hair and I motion him in.

I'm confused and not sure what I'm doing or why I'm doing it.  I
mean, I'm in a shower with a twelve year-old boy!  Our bodies are
pressed softly together.  I struggle not to stiffen as my hands
glide effortlessly over his body.  My father would...I don't know...
yell?  Toss me out of the house?  Disown me?  Kill me?  I don't
know.  What I do know is that for him, my dad, there is no room for
sex except for that between husband and wife, no room for intimacy
between men, and certainly no room for what is happening now, in
the shower room of this Christian camp, his Christian camp.  Worse
still, I know that I will hate myself when this is over; just like
I do after each time I have given in to temptation.  But, for now,
there is no stopping.

I first noticed Aden on the bus ride out, a week ago to the day.  I
rarely dealt with campers and paid them little attention.  My job
was carrying, cleaning, loading, stacking, stocking, and cleaning
again.  For the adults and kids that stayed here, camp was boating,
swimming, sports, and hiking; all punctuated by prayer and bible
study.  I spent my day hot, sweaty, and dirty, dotted with paint
and covered with grime.  They raced from the pool to the lake, the
archery range to the dining hall.

It was a laugh that drew my attention.  It fell like a summer rain
shower, warm and refreshing.  I was in the first row of the bus,
right behind my father, half listening to litany of chores I was to
complete that evening after unloading the supplies we had picked up
along with the week's campers.  The laugh stood out, like raised
lettering on an otherwise flat and colorless piece of paper.  It
took only one glance to find the boy that it came from as the
brightness of his face matched the radiance of his laughter.  Both
the voice and the laugh were the lightest of sopranos and they
seemed to infect all around him.  He sat at the center of a small
group of pre and young teens, all of whom appeared to feed on his
joy and who worked to make him laugh all the more.

His face was pale, almost white, and framed by jet black hair that
hung in loose waves down around his shoulders.  He was without
blemish, either from adolescents, birthmark, or scar; his pale skin
accentuated the redness of his lips, which were usually spread
thin, tightened by a wide smile that revealed the bright white
teeth behind.  But, it was his eyes that captivated me.  They were
the deepest green I had ever seen and seemed to sparkle like the
surface of a pond broken by small ripples on a bright summer day.
The color and shimmer reminded me of the large emerald at the
center of my grandmother's engagement ring.

I had just caught sight of him, was looking for only a moment, when
his eyes met mine, and in that moment he seemed as transfixed as
me.  Our eyes locked, and he seemed to struggle to pull away as
much as I did.  I'm not one to believe much in ESP, psychic
connections, or anything like that, but I clearly felt an energy
pass between us.  I felt warm in my belly, as if he filled me up in
some way and, as if he felt the same, his smile seemed to deepen.
Then he quickly looked away, his attention draw by one of the other
campers around him, and the fullness became an empty pit.

It was confusing for me; I couldn't place the feeling.  It didn't
seem like love, lust, or infatuation; all of which I had
experienced many times before.  I had gained and lost my share of
girlfriends and I knew what it felt like to not be able to shake a
girl from your head.  The intensity of what I was experiencing now
seemed almost beyond control.  I turned my attention back to my
father and the view of the road in front of us, but I was keenly
aware of the sound of his voice and continued to enjoy the pleasure
of his laugh that came often and easily.

I swung up from my seat and stood ready at the door of the bus as
it traveled the final dozen feet to its stop in front of the dining
hall.  The campers rushed to their feet behind me as the bus
stopped and the doors opened into a light cloud of dust kicked up
from the wheels.  They shoved and bumped playfully, eager to grab
their bag and find their cabin.  With the practice of many summers,
I quickly had the compartment doors up and out of the way and bags
out and on the grass before the first camper was down the bus
stairs.

Before long I found myself crawling further into the compartment to
reach those bags in the back, but I could still feel the press of
eager campers as well as hear their excited voices.  Suddenly, the
compartment darkened as someone climbed in next to me.  Before I
could say a word, I heard the bright clear voice of the boy from
the bus.

"Just thought I'd help," Aden offered in explanation and, without
waiting for a reply, he started to grab bags and toss them back to
the many hands waiting outside.  It was tight in the compartment
and, as he struggled with the heavier items, I often found us
brushing together.  I noticed a fresh clean scent and realized it
was him.  That surprised me as I rarely notice how anyone smells.
I tried to focus on the task at hand, but I found myself aware of
his every movement.  The tight compartment and the job of grabbing
and throwing bags back behind us meant that we bumped into each
other frequently and, as time went on, we seemed to run into each
other more often and the contact seemed to last longer.  Suddenly,
I noticed the noise outside the bus quiet a bit.  Then I recognized
my dad's voice rising above the rest.

"Hey there guy, how about you back out of there and let me help,"
he commanded; his voice friendly but his intention clear.  At the
same time he reached in and pulled gently on the Aden's ankle.

Aden gave a quick laugh, an "OK," and began to back out of the
compartment.  He jostled against me a couple more times as he
scrambled back, and, just before he disappeared, he flashed me that
killer smile one more time.  Even though there were only a few bags
left, he was halfway across the yard in front of the dining hall by
the time I finished and climbed out of the storage compartment.  He
was laughing and jostling with friends as they lugged their bags to
their cabin.  I stood there, my head down, my spirit low, watching
him out of the corner of my eye as my father scolded me for
allowing a camper into the storage compartment of the bus,
repeating the regular litany of how I failed to have any direction
in life and how I failed to take command of situations.  But then,
just before he was lost to sight, Aden looked back and smiled at me
again.

The first few days after that was hell.  I tried to put him out of
my mind and to throw myself into my work, but I couldn't.  I was
confused and upset by my attraction to this boy.  What was wrong
with me, was I gay?  Each morning I swore I would put him out of my
mind, but before long I found myself wondering where he was, what
he was doing, and looking for him in each group of campers that
wandered past.

I wasn't sure at first, but he seemed to seek me out as well.  A
couple of times I saw Aden looking worried and distracted until he
would catch a glimpse of me and then his smile returned.  More and
more often he seemed to make his way past wherever I happened to be
working and, one day, he stopped, said "Hi!" and began to chat.
Soon, he seemed to always be there, grabbing a paint brush or a
broom and joining in, chatting non-stop the whole time.  The
conversation was always as light and carefree as he was.  Then, one
day toward the end of the week, he came across the yard chatting
with my father.  The two seemed happily engaged, my father
exhibiting one of his very rare smiles.  I stared in surprise as
they made they made way directly over to me.  It was then that my
father introduced me to him and told me he would be staying to
help, as an assistant, over the next week.

* * * * * * *

Jason's hands slow as they work their way down my stomach.  Soon he
stops just below my belly button.  I can't tell if he's uncertain
what to do next or if he's lost in thought.  I wait, anxious to see
what he will do, knowing what I want him to do, but scared at the
same time.  Finally, after waiting a moment, I push his hands lower.

* * * * * * *

I'm lost in thought, remembering the week, my hands slow as I work
my way down his belly.  I want to continue down, to feel his silky
smooth skin under my fingers.  But, I'm about to do go to a place
I've never gone to before.  There's a pause, then I feel him push
my hands on and, now more alert than I ever have been before, I
continue to wash my way down.

I feel the beginning of his hips.  I feel the "V" that will lead to
where I most want to go.  My hands continue to swirl; left
following right, right following left.  Lower and lower my hands go
until finally I'm there.  Aden's stiff.  No, he's hard; as hard as
I've ever been.  I cup his balls gently and run my soapy hand up
and down his smooth shaft.  I hear a soft moan in return.

* * * * * * *

Finally he touches me, touches me exactly how I most want to be
touched, but how I didn't know I could be touched.  His touch is
brief; he cups me softly; then he works his hand gently up and down
my shaft.  My body stiffens.  That most wonderful and most
luxurious of all feelings is about to overwhelm me, and then it's
gone.

* * * * * * *

I drop down to one knee and continue to wash down his legs; up and
down one, then up and down the other; my right cheek presses up
against his butt cheek, the warmth of his body infusing mine.  Each
time my hands reach the top of his leg, the one on the inside of
his thigh gentle brushes against his balls.  It must tickle,
because a small laugh escapes each time I do.  So, with a smile, I
do it a few more times.  As I rise back up, he turns into me and
nestles up against me; one hand crosses underneath mine and curls
up over my back and onto my shoulder, the other lies flat against
my chest.

* * * * * * *

Jason drops down beside me and begins to wash my legs.  I put one
hand on top of his head for balance.  I feel a bit unsteady and am
afraid I may fall over.  I watch him as his hands run up and down
my legs.  The nerves on the inside of my thigh are on fire as his
hand runs gently up and down.  I giggle as he brushes up against my
nuts and I think he deliberately does a few more times to see if
I'll laugh again.

Then he's done.  As he stands again, I turn to face him, remaining
close.  I steady myself by wrapping one arm behind and over his
shoulder, the other I use to trace the contours of his chest.  He's
as hard as I am and I can't quite get close.  I reach down and
adjust him so that it points up, then I move closer to sandwich it
between us.

"Feels like you're trying to stab me," I remark with a laugh.

* * * * * * *

I'm surprised when Aden reaches down and points my dick upward.  I
hadn't realized that I gotten hard and, for some reason, I'm
embarrassed by that.  Although I don't have a lot of experience
with sex I'm not completely new to the game, I'm surprised at how
close I am to climaxing.  It wouldn't take much to push me over the
edge.

My arms are wrapped around behind him; the soap is still in my
hand.  It only makes sense to continue so I start again, first in
the small of his back, lingering in the sharply defined cleft just
above his butt.  Since I started at the top and worked down when I
did his front, I feel like I should work from the bottom up.  I
hesitate for a moment, then drop my hands down and wash the
gorgeous smooth mounds.  The feeling is luxurious; they are so
round and firm.  My fingers move slowly up through the crack, a
place I'd like to explore more, but I'm uncomfortable touching him
in a place so private.

Instead, I move slowly up his back, continuing to swirl the soap up
to his shoulder blades while the warm water flows over us and
washes the soap away.  His head rests upon my chest while his free
hand traces the outline of my breast bone.  His eyes are closed and
he seems as content and at peace as anyone can be.

Finally I've reached the end; there's nothing unwashed.  My hands
slow as they reach the top of his shoulders.  We stand for a
moment, motionless.  Aden's eyes are closed, his faced relaxed.
Without thought, catching even myself by surprise, I kiss him on
the forehead.

* * * * * * *

I stand quietly, savoring the moment.  For once I'm not sure what
to do; I never really thought things through past this point.  In
fact, I never imagined that it would ever get this far.  I never
expected Jason to let me into the shower stall, let alone go along
with what we've be doing.  Where this goes next, I'm not sure.  For
now, I just enjoy the moment, my head resting against his chest.
Then he catches me by surprise; he leans down and kisses me.  And,
in that moment, I know exactly what to do next.

I take my hand from against his chest and, wrapping it behind his
head, I pull him down to me.  I've never kissed anyone before, so
I'm not exactly sure how I'm doing, but it feels right.

* * * * * * *

The kiss catches me by surprise, like everything else this evening;
his joining me in the shower, us standing against each other, the
raw sensuality of the moment.  It's the kiss of inexperience, a bit
rough, he presses too hard.  Something for us to work on, I think,
smiling to myself, and feeling the first bit of control all
evening.  Then he catches me by surprise one more time.

"You know what I'd like to do," Aden says, a wide smile upon his
face.

"What?" I reply, almost afraid to find out.

"Let's go across camp to your room and..., " he pauses as if
searching for the right words, "goof around some more."  His smile
widens.  "Since we're here all alone, we don't even have to bother
with our clothes."

"But I haven't washed yet," I say.

"That's OK," is the quick reply, "it just means we'll have to come
back and do it again."