Camp Counselors Pt. 02

(This part takes up directly from Part 1)

At breakfast the next morning Amy and Claire sat with me and Brian. Amy was her usual reserved self, and nobody watching us could have guessed that we'd had a delightful fuck the night before. Claire's interest in Brian was more obvious, to my eye, and he seemed a little triumphant about it.

Brian and I didn't get a chance to talk about all this until we got back to our cabin later that afternoon.

"I can't believe our luck," I said. "We fucked two of the hottest girls in camp, and I don't think it was a one-time thing."

"God I hope not," he said.

There was a pause. I think we were both wondering the same thing.

"What about you and me?" he asked. "Are we gonna keep it up?"

For my part the answer was obvious, but I didn't want to seem too eager, so I said, "I don't know. What do you think?"

"Yes," he said firmly.

I was relieved.

"Good," I said.

Over the next couple of weeks, however, we didn't get together with Amy and Claire as much as we would have liked. Not that they weren't willing; the problem was finding privacy in a place swarming with people.

We had some luck the next Friday, when a light drizzle started right after dinner, forced cancellation of the weekly campfire and drove most people indoors for the night.

I pulled Amy aside at the counselors' lounge and suggested she sneak over to our cabin. After we had some time alone, Brian and Claire could take a turn. I was a little surprised when she agreed to this proposal.

My fuck that night with Amy was even better than the one on the beach, and Brian later reported he had had a wonderful time with Claire. The girls must have enjoyed it as well, because they agreed to a repeat performance a few nights later.

As it turned out, however, that third time would be the last for a couple of weeks. Amy said she had nearly gotten caught sneaking out of our cabin by one of the other male counselors, and she insisted on cooling it for a while. Claire followed suit.

All of which meant, naturally, that Brian and I were seething with hormones.

Finally, one night after the girls had refused yet another plea to sneak off to fuck somewhere, he upped the ante.

We had just stripped and gotten into our beds to jack off when Brian changed his mind and stood up again. When I looked over he was standing next to his bed, his usual massive hardon sticking up in the air.

After a moment's hesitation, he stepped over to my bed and sat down next to me, our hips touching. I froze.

"What are you..."

Before I could get another word out he nudged my hand aside and took hold of my cock.

"Whoa," I said.

But though I was surprised, I made no move to stop him when he started stroking me.

Now, I've had a fair number of hand jobs from women, and of course I've jacked off myself hundreds if not thousands of times.

But having another guy do me felt different somehow. Maybe it was that he was breaking another major taboo. Maybe it was the fact that Brian, having a cock of his own, knew just how to pleasure another guy. Maybe it was because his grip was firmer and surer than any woman's.

Whatever the reason, it felt so damn good.

I looked at Brian. He had an intent look on his face; he seemed mesmerized by the sight of his own hand on another guy's dick.

He glanced up at me. I don't know what kind of stupid look I had on my face, but whatever it was made him smile.

He jacked me slowly at first, then gradually faster, until in what seemed like a very short time I felt my cock tingling and my balls contracting and I let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a sob and a huge wad of cum shot out end of my cock and landed on my chest.

After that first shot, Brian shifted the timing of his stroking to match the ongoing pulsations of my dick. Three, four, five times I shot, and I was still going. It was one of the most intense orgasms I've ever had.

Finally the pulsing slowed and stopped. Brian expertly milked me of the last few drops and took his hand away.

Some of my cum had spilled onto his hand. He looked at it for a moment, then lifted it to his mouth and licked his fingers clean.

Spent though I was, the sight of him eating my cum made my dick throb.

We looked at each other. Without exchanging a word, we changed places.

Now it was my turn to touch a guy's dick for the first time.

I wrapped my fingers around his shaft just below the head.

I held still for a moment, noting the contrast between the soft skin on the outside and the hardness like a steel rod on the inside. I took note too of the pulsing of his blood through the shaft, and the way his whole cock twitched from time to time, showing his excitement.

Brian moved, thrusting his hips upward; he was impatient for me to get going. I adjusted my grip and started stroking, slowly at first, as he'd done, and then gradually speeded up.

Brian's breathing began to sound ragged. His mouth fell open and his eyelids began to flutter. He was enjoying this.

So was I. It felt good to give him pleasure.

I was stroking steadily now. I could tell he was getting close by the way the little gasping sounds he was making slowly rose in pitch.

"Close," he said.

Now I downshifted, if I can put it that way, slowing my stroking slightly but squeezing him a little harder. He moaned.

I watched, mesmerized, as his ball sack tightened and the head of his cock turned a deep red. I felt his shaft swell, and the next thing I knew he groaned and fired a blast of cum that hit him on the forehead.

I gave him another stroke, and another shot hit him in the chin. A third stroke, and a shot landed between his pecs. I milked him the way he had milked me, until his chest and stomach were dotted with puddles of semen.

When he was finally still I let go of his cock and sat back.

After a long pause he said, "Holy fucking shit."

I looked at him. He had cum dripping over his eyebrow and a half-smile on his face.

"That was definitely gay," I said.

"I guess," he said, shrugging, "but so what? You liked it, didn't you?"

I couldn't pretend I didn't.

"Yeah, I did."

I looked down at my chest and stomach, where my own cum was starting to dry.

"I'm going to get a shower."

"Right behind you," he said.

I went into the bathroom and turned the water on. While I was rinsing myself off I thought about what we had just done.

I can't say it was a total surprise. The last couple of times we watched each other beat off I'd been tempted to do what Brian had done: to just go over and put my hand on his dick. I was glad one of us had finally taken the initiative.

I felt myself getting hard again.

I turned the water off, got out of the shower and started drying off. Then I walked back into the room, my dick now at half-staff.

Brian was lying on his bed, still naked, looking at my cock. He was totally hard again.

On an impulse I stepped over to his bed, threw my leg over him and sat down, straddling his thighs. Our dicks were nearly touching.

I took his cock in my left hand and my cock in my right and started stroking both. Brian looked up at me, his mouth hanging open and delight in his eyes.

Then I took both our cocks in one hand. When they touched, shaft to shaft, it felt like a bolt of electricity shot through me. Brian made a moaning sound.

It wasn't easy to get both cocks in one hand, we were both so thick, but I managed to get a good stroke rhythm going anyway. Meanwhile Brian gripped my thighs with both hands and made little gasping noises.

Considering that I'd come just 15 or 20 minutes before, It didn't take at all long to start feeling the approach of another orgasm.

When I was really close I let go of Brian's cock and wrapped my hand tightly around my own. Three, four, five strokes and I came again, not so hard this second time but hard enough to make me cry out.

Cum spurted out my slit and dribbled onto Brian's dick. I grasped him with my free hand and began stroking, using my cum as lube. He must have been close, too, because in mere seconds his mouth fell open, his eyes rolled back in his head and a load of semen shot onto his stomach.

It wasn't easy, but I managed to keep stroking both of us long enough to empty our balls again. When we were both finished I looked down, and saw cum dripping from both my hands and collecting in puddles on his stomach.

I looked at Brian. His eyes were closed. After a few seconds he opened them, and as our eyes met he said, "Oh my fucking God, that was the hottest thing ever."

I could only laugh.

Brian felt around for his cum rag and handed it to me. I wiped my hands, then swiped his stomach.

On another impulse I brought the rag up to my nose and inhaled the sharp, bleachy, utterly male scent of cum.

Brian reached up and took the rag for me, then took his own deep sniff.

"I love that smell," he said.

I got off of him and went to wash my hands. While Brian was taking his turn in the shower I put on a pair of boxers and got in bed.

"Well," I thought as I listened to the sound of running water, "what on earth have you gotten yourself into?"

***

I slept soundly that night, lulled by a gentle rain that had started while Brian and I were messing around.

The next day, a Saturday, was transition day, when the kids who were staying only half the summer packed up and got picked up by their parents.

It's typically a crazy day, with kids frantically trying to locate missing possessions and families milling about, and was made crazier by the beastly afternoon heat. Not until evening did things settle down again.

At dinner Amy sidled up to me and whispered something about going for a swim after lights out. I guess with the camp less crowded -- second-half campers wouldn't arrive till tomorrow -- she was less worried about us getting caught sneaking around.

Apparently she'd made arrangements with Claire to lure Brian back to our cabin, because she and I had the secret cove to ourselves. We fucked twice that night, and again I was pleased to know that my experimentation with Brian hadn't lessened my enjoyment of straight sex.

When I got back to the cabin Brian was just getting out of the shower. We exchanged a couple of sly remarks about the events of the evening, but we were both pretty beat and we turned in not long afterward.

The next day, a Sunday, was arrival day for second-half campers, and so a long and tiring one, again made worse by the heat. The kids were strung-out and noisy from excitement, and it was later than usual before we could get them all settled down enough for lights out.

When all was more or less quiet I went down to the lake and sat on a bench to enjoy what little breeze there was. I needed time to think.

Gazing out over the water, I marveled again at the strange way my sex life had unfolded that summer.

On the one hand, I was pursuing women the way I always had, and having plenty of fun with the one I'd "caught." On the other hand, I had this increasingly intense thing going with Brian, and I couldn't make up my mind what this signified.

That I was enjoying what we did was beyond doubt, which raised uncomfortable questions for a straight guy.

A person who enjoys both sex with both men and women is by definition a bisexual; is that what I really was, or was becoming?

Or was it actually possible to "become" anything, where sexual orientation was concerned? Isn't it always there, even if it takes a while to show up?

True, I'd heard of people who had flings with members of their own sex, but remained essentially straight.

In this vein, I suppose I could have argued that what Brian and I were doing was, as he said once, "just a couple of bros helping each other out," and not indicative of any deeper tendency.

In my heart, though, I suspected something deeper was involved. But what that meant for my life after this summer was a question for another time.

The more immediate issue was: How far was I willing to take this with Brian?

I wouldn't have long to find out.

*****

Before I recount what happened with Brian over the next few days, I need to tell you about something else that happened about the same time.

You might be wondering, as I was, whether Brian and I were the only guys fooling with each other that summer. It seemed unlikely, for a couple of reasons.

First, statistics suggested that at least one of the 14 guys working that summer was gay. It was also possible that two otherwise straight guys would be getting it on the way Brian and I were.

Doing so would have been a logistical challenge, however. Brian and I were lucky: we had a cabin to ourselves. But the other 12 guys lived in three four-person cabins, and opportunities for privacy would necessarily be limited.

On the other hand, I knew from my own experience that two horny people can almost always find a way to be alone for a few minutes.

Which I saw demonstrated once again as I made my way back to the cabin.

I was in no hurry to go inside on such a warm night, so I decided to take the trail that wound along the shore for a couple of hundred yards beyond camp until it branched. One fork continued along the water and into the hills and the other wound its way back through the woods toward the counselors' cabins.

I didn't have a flashlight, but I wasn't worried about finding my way. There was just enough moonlight to make it possible to follow a path I'd taken many times before.

I was about 50 yards from the cabins, moving slowly with my eyes focused on the trail, when I heard a sound that made me stop and look up.

Maybe 25 yards away, two people were standing close together in a shadowed spot next to the trail. It was hard to see, of course, but eventually I was able to make out that it was two guys, and they were kissing.

Now, I'd seen guys kissing before, in person and on TV, but seeing it happen now, when I was messing around with a guy myself, felt different. It seemed exciting -- erotic even, in a way it hadn't seemed before. I felt my dick start to stiffen.

From what I could tell at this distance and in this light, their kiss was a passionate one. They had their arms around each other, and their heads were moving, as if they were using their tongues.

I was very curious to know who they were, of course, but couldn't make either one of them out and didn't dare trying to get closer.

Just then there was a loud noise somewhere nearby -- I think a cabin door banged shut -- and the two guys suddenly drew apart. Zipping their pants, they moved off down the trail toward the cabins.

I followed as quietly as I could, but I was unable to get close enough to see who it was. When they reached the cabin area they split up; one guy peeled off and disappeared around a corner, and the other guy headed off in the other direction, toward the camp HQ. As the second guy passed under a light on the corner of one cabin I caught a glimpse of longish blond hair.

I knew who that was: Oliver.

"Well, that's a surprise," I thought.

Oliver is what you might call the camp's seasonal handyman. His boss, the head maintenance guy, is a year-round employee who lives in town, but Oliver works only during the summer, and lives in a small apartment above the maintenance building.

He's a little older than the counselors -- I'm guessing 25 -- and by his own choice hangs out with them only if specifically invited. But he is well-liked by both campers and counselors, and is especially popular among the women because, as Amy puts it he is both "smokin' hot" and a genuinely nice guy.

I always liked Oliver, too, and could understand why girls think he is so attractive. He has piercing blue eyes, perfect teeth and pale blond hair that always looks like he just toweled it dry. He's a little shorter than me but has a more solid, muscular build. He wouldn't look out of place on the Norwegian wrestling team.

I said I was surprised at first to see him kissing a guy, but on second thought, why should I be?

Pretty much everyone here knows me as a straight guy, and that I have a thing going with Amy, yet I'm trading handjobs with a guy on the side. Why should I be the only one crossing the lines?

As I made my way back to my cabin I pondered who the other guy was with Oliver, and what exactly the two of them had been up to. That they were or had been playing with each other's cocks, as well as kissing, seemed likely, and I had to wonder whether they'd had other encounters as well.

My dick was totally hard.

When I walked in our door, Brian was in the shower, so I called out to let him know I was back.

"Hey," he said. "Be right out."

But I couldn't wait. I stripped off my clothes, stepped into the bathroom and opened the shower door.

"Make room," I said. "I'm coming in."

He looked up at me in surprise, then down at my raging cock. He smiled, and stepped back enough for me to get in next to him.

It was a tight fit, but I made it work by pressing against him, my stiff dick between us.

His cock, which had been soft when I walked in, was getting hard fast, and I felt it pressing against my balls from below. I leaned back enough to reach down, take him by the shaft and point him upward, then let my hand drop. Our cocks were now rubbing against each other, with just enough soap on them to make them slide easily.

Then I did something I thought I'd never do: I put my hands on either side of Brian's face, pulled him close and kissed him.

If he was surprised by this, he didn't show it. He kissed me back eagerly, and soon we were seriously making out.

Meanwhile we ground our cocks against each other. If we'd kept it up I'm sure we both would have come soon, but I had another idea.

I let my right hand slide down Brian's back to the cleft in his buttocks, then ran a finger downward between his cheeks until I could press it against his hole. He moved one leg to the side so I'd have more room to work, and when he did I slipped the tip of my finger inside him.

Brian broke the kiss long enough to make a high-pitched moaning sound in my ear. I pressed the finger further, and he gasped with pleasure.

"Do you like it when I play with your ass?" I whispered.

"God, yes," he said. "Deeper."

I thrust the finger in as far as I could, which wasn't far, given the awkward angle I was coming from.

"This would be easier in bed," I said, withdrawing the finger.

Brian let go of me and reached up to the shower head, angling it so that both of us could rinse off quickly. Then he stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel. When he was done with it he handed it to me and left the bathroom.

When I came out, partly dry and my hair still dripping, Brian was lying on his bed with his legs apart and his knees in the air, playing with his very hard cock. I had a clear view of -- and clear access to -- the wrinkled pink star of his butthole.

I got a bottle of lotion out of my nightstand drawer and knelt between his legs. I spread some lotion on my fingers and then smeared some around the hole, which made him catch his breath again. When he was reasonably well lubricated I slipped my middle finger in as far as the first knuckle.

He gasped with pleasure.

I worked my finger in a little further. He was very tight, so I paused long enough for him to adjust. I marveled at the heat I was feeling.

Somewhere I'd heard that the prostate gland is very sensitive to touch, but I had only a vague idea where it was. I probed with the tip of my finger until I touched something firm, which made Brian gasp again. I started stroking it with a finger, and he actually whimpered.

He was jacking himself now, trying to match his hand movements to the rhythm of the finger-fucking I was giving him. But the sight of his swollen cock was so tempting that I knocked his hand aside, leaned down and -- surprising myself as much as him -- gave it a long slow lick from the base to the head.