Date: Tue, 03 Apr 2007 12:46:45 +0200
From: Peter AM <KanoPeer@checkjemail.nl>
Subject: Camp Blue Otter 03

This story is for adults only, about a fourteen year old's first summer camp.
In chapter three, Howard sees the first skinny dippers and gets introduced to
his mates in the Lake Trout group.

Blue Otter 03: Dip, Dip, Hooray!

Sunday Morning Swim Trials

When I awoke next morning, most of the campers and their gear were already
gone.  I walked towards the door to find out what was happening, and a
councilor there told me to get ready for the swim trial first, meaning get
out of my pajamas first, and then get myself and my gear out of the hall.
From here they would show us to the river.

So I went back to my stuff, and dug out my Speedos.  If I wasn't allowed to
wear them I could always take them off later.  For now I would be much more
comfortable with something on.  With Speedos in hand I walked into the
change room.  I was relieved to see that there were a couple of other boys
there changing into their trunks, and there was one sleeping bag still
laying there with its owner inside, talking and watching the others change.
Myself I slipped into one of the toilet stalls and changed there into my
swim team Speedos.

Wearing my Speedos and dragging my pack behind me, the councilor at the
door let me out this time.  Outside I saw a bunch of campers sitting around
the picnic tables, many with wet hair and without any... well my eyes
popped out at the sight.  The morning sun was in my eyes and I had to blink
twice to make sure I saw right.  I did see right.  Most of the boys were
stark naked except for a towel around their neck.  A few wore towels around
their waist.  Seeing is believing.  Skinny dipping was for real.

Skinny Dippers

Another councilor herded up us six or seven campers that had just left the
great hall, and marched us down to the river.  Two of the campers in our
group also wore nothing except sandals.  Fortunately for us it was a
windless and relatively warm morning.  I tried to keep my eyes on the
councilor, but sight of the up and down movement of the bare cheeks of the
boy walking in front of me was mesmerizing.  We got to the river shore in
less than five minutes, where the boys were lined up for their swim trials.
I was relieved to see that maybe a third did wear swim trunks, meaning I
would be able to keep mine on without drawing attention..

The skinny-dippers included some campers younger than me, with tiny
hairless dicks, and quite a few older boys with more pubic hair than
myself.  Though older, a lot of those hairy dicks hung small and limp,
showing not the slightest hint of excitement.  If I could have been sure of
that kind of control over my own dick, I would have joined them, and
displayed myself as nonchalantly as the rest of them.

But I was cursed.  My dick always rose up, and at the worst times, like
during a checkup at the doctor's, or while posing for a family portrait.
My boner would sprout in the most inappropriate times and places, even in
front of the class when presenting an assignment, or in the change room
after phys ed.  But at least in the change room I still wore my underwear.
Many boys here stood bare-naked like it was the most ordinary thing in the
world.  I had never seen so many bare butts and dicks, in all sizes.  It
was a feast for the eyes and torture at the same time.  I could not keep
myself from looking, even though it made my Speedos bulge.

I guessed that the size of some of the dicks around me was not just a
matter of age and development. Some were definitely swollen and slightly
raised.  How embarrassed I would be to be caught with a half-boner like
that; it was awfully brave of some of these boys to let their privates be
exposed in such a questionable state, in front of all the other campers
that would be sure to recognize them, and whom they would have to live with
for half the summer.

Take for instance this boy beside me, about my age, bare-naked with an
enormous bright red dick that was definitely not limp, but was clearly
sticking out horizontally.  Not only that, but I swear the foreskin was
partially retracted, revealing just a hint of the head underneath.  My own
dick sort of looked like that after masturbating, I thought to myself.

"Like what you see?" that boy beside me asked suddenly, out loud.  I almost
went into cardiac arrest, right then and there.  It was just my first day
at camp, and already I had gotten caught staring, and not just at
somebody's face either, but at his dick!  How could it get any worse than
this?  My guts were tightening up in preparation of the inevitable
onslaught, the calls of "this guy is staring at my dick, watch out
everyone, this guy here is a fag."  I felt my ears burning and I just
wanted to disappear, to sink through the ground.

"Boy can you ever blush, you should see that red head of yours in a mirror"
was the only comment I heard.  My thoughts were racing every which way --
maybe I can get out of this -- how do I get out of this?

My escape plan was not very original, but I had no time to think of
something better, so I muttered "Uh, I gotta go to the washroom".  I just
had to get out of there, fast, before calling more attention to myself and
getting branded as the faggot.

"Want me to keep your place in line?" my neighbor asked, but he was talking
to my back, I was already on my way out of there.  I kept right on walking,
without turning around, without giving an answer.

Once I figured I was out of his view I turned around and joined the back of
the line again.  No staring, I told myself, and kept my eyes on my own
toes. At least the scare had deflated the pressure inside my Speedos.
After I got to the front of the line I was asked my name and swim level,
and then was told to swim to a buoy about fifty feet out, fast as I could,
while the judges would time me.  Many of the boys had complained of the
cold when first stepping into the water, but actually it was warmer than I
had expected. I swam out to the buoy without even getting winded, then put
in a speed burst on the way back, just to show off.


The Lake Trout

After getting out of the water we were handed dry towels, and were led back
to the picnic tables outside the Great Hall in groups of six.  There we
were given orange juice, eggs and bacon for breakfast, and then requested
to leave the tables and make room for the next group.  I hung around for a
little over an hour furtively looking and not looking at the many exposed
dicks around me.  At the swim trial, most dicks had shrunk when they came
out of the cold water, but lounging in the sun here, scrotums were drooping
and some dicks were starting to swell again.

Then finally a bunch of councilors with clipboards took up position.  We
were told to check with each until we found the councilor with our name on
the clipboard.  Until now I had been hiding my raging boner by holding my
towel in front of my crotch, would standing up was a little awkward. I had
to figure out a way of identifying which group was mine without having to
walk up to each one.  I remembered Old Wolf saying that at first you could
recognize the newbies by their modesty, and I was a newbie joining a group
of newbies.  All I had to do then was to look for a group with few or no
nude boys.

I waited until some boys had already surrounded each councilor, and then
walked up to the groups with no nudes, all the while holding the towel in
front of my crotch.  I started to doubt my strategy after trying twice and
not finding my name on the councilor's list.  Then I spotted a group of
mostly older boys that were all dressed.  Sure enough that turned out to be
my group, and I was a little dismayed to be put in a group of 14- to
16-year-olds, making me the youngest instead of the oldest in my group.
The good news was that in this group I would not stand not being naked.  In
about ten minutes our group of 10 campers and 2 councilors was complete.

The councilors seemed friendly enough.  The taller one introduced himself
as Glen.  He was about my height, though much more muscular.  He had sandy
hair, and a long, rather plain face.  The other councilor was Matthew.
Matthew looked like an Easterner, Chinese or something like that.  He was
only about five foot three, wore gold rimmed glasses and had a permanent
smile plastered on his round face.  Matthew instructed us to pick up our
stuff, and marched us off to our tents.

The camp had mailed out a packing list and warned it should all fit in one
backpack.  I was surprised at how little they had wanted us to take (just
some basic toiletries, a sleeping bag and a minimum of clothing, no
electronics, no valuables).  It was all on my back now as I followed our
little group into the woods behind the main buildings.  After maybe five or
ten minutes we arrived at a clearing.  Six tents had already been set up
there, spread far apart around the edge of the clearing.  In the center was
a fire-pit with a cauldron hanging over it, and logs arranged like benches
around it.

"Welcome to Clearwater" announced Glen.  "Our group is called the Lake
Trout, and this will be our home for the next few weeks.  There isn't any
actual body of water within our territory, but we call it 'Clearwater'
because we are the Lake Trout, and you'll never find any trout in murky
waters."  To me it all sounded a little hokey, but I kept my thoughts to
myself for now.

Glen had us take off our packs and sat us down at the huge picnic table
under the rain shelter.  He gave a sort of official welcome to all of us
Lake Trout, and explained that we had been matched up because we were all
newcomers from ages 14 to 16.  Most of the other groups, in contrast, were
made up of returning campers.  He told us one of those groups of old-timers
were the Northern Pike, and we would be heading over to their campsite
later today to swim in their pond.

"I understand none of you know each other yet, is that right?" he checked.

A little mumbling went around the tables, and then a shorter, robust type
of guy with a square chin spoke up: "Uh, Jimmy and me here know each
other."

The Jimmy that he pointed to had a much slighter build, I would even call
him frail, had curly hair, and didn't say a word.  I wondered what kind of
relationship these two had.  Instinctively I felt the other guy was his
protector.

"Oh good" replied Glen, "and what is your name?"

"Calvin," answered the stockier guy.

"So Calvin and Jimmy, did you guys want to be tent buddies together?"

"Yes" Calvin answered simply, and I was thinking I myself would love to
have such a child-like and non-threatening tent buddy as Jimmy.

"Jimmy?"  Jimmy only nodded.

"OK then, you guys will be spending a lot of time together here" said Glen,
and he scribbled something on his notepad.  "If we move Jimmy over to
Calvin that means we'll move Harry in with Bert."

Chapter 04: I'm a Trout

Lake Trout Formal Introductions and First Impressions

Glen said it was time to get to know the rest of the campers a little
better.  He started by re- introducing himself.

"I'm Glen, eighteen years old, a three-, no FOUR-time veteran of Camp Blue
Otter, and I'm the head honcho for the Lake Trout.  I like hiking,
backpacking, swimming, canoeing, painting and gymnastics.  I'm also a good
wrestler, so you better behave.  Don't worry, I'm also a good listener.
You can talk to me and Matthew anytime about any concerns you may have, or
about anything at all.  Matthew here is a really nice guy, maybe a little
too nice sometimes.  Just remember, he is still your boss and I expect you
to do everything he tells you to"

His helper Matthew introduced himself next.  He was seventeen and a
three-time veteran of this camp himself.  He warned us that Glen indeed was
on the high school wrestling team and advised us stay on his good side.
Matthew liked swimming and animals.  He wanted to become a vet.

Glen asked who was ready to introduce himself next, and Harry volunteered.
Harry was the kind of guy who always seemed cheerful and never could keep
quiet.  He had blue eyes, blond hair, was fourteen like me, but a lot
shorter.  He also had a nicely rounded butt, rather obvious in his very
short cut-offs.  Since Jimmy was already taken, I was hoping Harry might
become my tent buddy.  I think I felt attracted to him, but couldn't admit
to myself that his butt had anything to do with it.  History was Harry's
favorite subject at school (dismayed groans from the rest of us at the
words 'history' and 'school').  He also enjoyed swimming, but snow boarding
was his favorite sport.

When Harry finished Matthew gave him his team shirt, and told him to put it
on.  So Harry pulled off his other T-shirt and put on the team shirt.  It
was yellow, had "Harry" written on the front and "Lake Trout" written on
the back, and had been cut short so it barely reached down to his nipples.
Harry looked a little surprised at how short it was, wondering if they were
playing a joke on him.

"It's really more of a shoulder pad than anything" explained Glen.  "When
its too hot to wear much of anything else you can still wear your team
shirt.  Yours is yellow, meaning you're allowed to swim in the deep, but
only with councilor supervision.  Nobody is allowed in the water without a
team shirt showing their swim level.  Nice thing about this is it will
protect your shoulders from sunburn."

To my disappointment Glen announced that Bert would be Harry's buddy, and
prompted Bert to talk about himself.  Bert was already 16, enjoyed chess,
track and field and cross-country skiing.  Bert struck me as a rather
boring but harmless guy.  Mostly I would describe him as mild- mannered.
Bert turned out to be the oldest newcomer to the camp, was almost as tall
as me, had dark hair, did not seem very excitable.  He was articulate
enough but nowhere near as chatty as his new buddy Harry.  Bert also got a
yellow team shirt as he finished.

Frankie had worked up the courage to introduce himself next.  He was the
shortest in our group, but was built tough, mean-looking.  He was fifteen,
had sandy hair, big chin.  I loved his muscle tone, but nothing else about
him.  His main interests were hockey and road hockey.  Frankie looked
disappointed when he too got a yellow team shirt.

Next Glen presented George as Frankie's buddy.  George was pretty much the
opposite of Frankie. He reminded me of the friendly giant from the kid's
show.  He was almost as tall as me, a little heavier, and always carried a
goofy smile.  I guessed he might be a good swimmer.  Or maybe not, he
didn't really look like the disciplined type.  He had black hair and light
brown skin, might have been Pakistani, but second generation, because his
English was fluent.  Or perhaps he had a hint of a British accent, it was
hard for me to tell.  To Frankie's dismay, his buddy George got a green
T-Shirt.  Green T-shirts could swim in the deep without lifeguard
supervision.  However, they could only swim with another green shirt,
no-one was allowed to swim alone.

Glen read my name, Howard, off his clipboard next.  I have blond hair and
blue eyes.  I was fourteen now, and had sprouted early to a lanky six foot
one height, which was a good build for running, jumping and swimming,
especially front crawl.  Really I was too shy to say much of anything, but
with a little prompting repeated my name, age, and said I wanted to learn
canoeing.  Glen added that while all of the councilors and about a dozen of
the returning campers were certified, I was the only newcomer with
lifeguard certification.  That earned me a red T shirt.  My fellow campers
seemed to look on with envy as I slipped it on, but I was not particularly
happy about the extra attention that I was getting.

I was eager to learn who would be my buddy.  It was Sam, fifteen years old,
medium height, dark hair, dark eyes, not much tan, pretty muscular.
Besides wrestling, Sam liked pretty well any sport that had a ball in it.
He was also a good swimmer and got the green T-shirt.  I was not sure how
well I would get along with Sam.  Other than swimming we didn't seem to
have anything in common.  I would have to be careful with him.

After me came Peter, a little younger than me, and just as shy.  His buddy
Billy was about my age and much more affable. From this point on I wasn't
really paying any more attention to the introductions.  I was focused on
Sam now.  I couldn't read those dark unfathomable eyes of his, but his body
language was expressive enough.  In one word, he exuded confidence.

Anyway, both Peter and Billy got green shirts, while Calvin with his
adorable Jimmy, the pair that already knew each other before coming to
camp, were each handed a yellow shirt.

Glen impressed upon us the importance of sticking with -- and sticking up
for -- your buddy.  The buddy system was supposed to be a safety net, both
physically and socially.  To ensure no one would ever get lost by himself
or in some other way fall through the cracks, everybody was teamed up with
a buddy.  He also warned us to always wear our T-shirts in the water, and
not to trade or lose them, for as long we were to be part of the Lake
Trout.

Clearwater Facilities

Matthew pointed out the basic facilities around camp.  This included the
fire-pit, cauldron, a rain shelter with a big picnic table, and finally a
small shed with brooms, brushes, shovels, empty pails and baskets, and
shelves with paper towel, toilet paper, soap and some kitchen stuff. At one
edge of the clearing, two clothes lines had been strung between trees.

He explained there would usually be stuff on the clothesline like sleeping
bags airing out.  Hence behind the clothes line was OK for taking a quick
leak.  To keep the camping area clean, no other spot in the clearing was
allowed for peeing, and the preferred area was anywhere in the woods, off
the paths.  However, we could never leave the clearing without a buddy.

Picnic Basket, or Outhouse Built for Two

Taking us five minutes deeper into the woods, Matthew took us to a
two-seater outhouse, which was little more than a wooden box with two lids
hinged at the middle.  He dubbed it "the picnic basket' although it was
anything but appetizing.  He demonstrated how opening the lid would at once
give you a privacy barrier from the other half of the box, and would reveal
the poop-hole (phooeey! We all agreed it stank).  A second hole under the
lid held a plastic pail with the toilet paper, paper towel and an isopropyl
alcohol-based hand-cleaner.

"Always use the hand-cleaner afterwards" he reminded us.

I had been feeling a little pressure in my stomach and figured I would have
to hit the toilet sooner or later, but looking at this crapper box right in
the open, with no privacy walls around it, I decided it would have to be
later, in a proper toilet stall back at the base.  Matthew could probably
read the dubious look on my face.

"Look" he said. "I know it doesn't look very private to have a crapper in
the open woods without any walls around it. With everyone skinny dipping,
privacy is not such a big deal around here.
 Still, the rules are nobody can bug you while you're on the box. Before we
used to have little outhouses, kinda like this picnic basket, but inside a
closet.  Now those closets stunk so bad when you got inside that nobody
wanted to use them.  Believe me, these boxes open to the air and wind are
much better."

Next he pointed out a tree-house, and said there were two more in our
vicinity.  He promised to show those later to us, but first we would be off
to his favorite swimming hole, Northlake, home to the Northern Pike.


**********

OK, I know the third installment was rather dry for the hornier of my
readers - just setting the stage here.  Next chapter will take us to the
swimming hole.