CAT | Camping
We were to spend most of the semester in a secluded campground in northern Arizona. It just so happened that we were all guys and we quickly settled in to a routine of working, eating, and sleeping, with a minimum of conversation. I was excited at the beginning of the program to discover that the other guys were all gorgeous. Sean, in particular, gave me a tingly sensation in my cock every time I saw him. He was from California, and looked the part. He had curly blond hair, amazing muscles, and a smooth chest that he liked to show off. Most days I would try to position myself during our field work so that I could covertly gaze at his bare torso, glistening with sweat in the Arizona sun. We were all friendly with each other, but Sean was always a little distant with me. I suspected he knew I was gay and didn’t like it (I didn’t talk about it, but I wasn’t in the closet either).
“It’s sure getting colder,” Chico said, looking out the sliding doors, “–but at least it’s not supposed to rain.”
“The sun’s still hot, though,” Tony said from the sofa. “It’s going to be great. We can always use that wood stove, huh, Jordan?”
I brought out a round of beers. We clinked bottles and sat in my parents’ beatup, cabin furniture. “As long as we cut more. My dad really gets pissed if I use his precious woodpile.” I laughed then. “I swear he actually counts the logs!”
This story contains acts of a sexual nature between two consenting males. If it is illegal or offensive for you to read such material, please navigate away from this page. Since this is my first masturbation story–sorry, no actual sex–comments and suggestions would be more appreciated than ever! Me, Myself and I——– I slipped out [...]
This story contains acts of a sexual nature between two consenting males. If it is illegal or offensive for you to read such material, please navigate away from this page. Sorry, I know it’s long, but I like a lot of buildup. I’m still pretty new to this; any comments and suggestions would be much [...]
I was a tourist in Maine, having arrived the afternoon before, and was walking on the dock of a fishing village where guys were doing all sort of things on their boats. It was clearly hard work but they all seemed to be enjoying their labors, with lots of banter. As I walked among them, dressed pretty much like the younger ones, in jeans, sneakers, and a T, this older guy nodded at me in greeting and I responded with a verbal reply. He was alone on his boat and we started chatting. He seemed pretty friendly and after awhile he asked would I like to go catch an eel. To be honest, I had no clue what these guys fished for, other than the famous Maine lobsters, and to be really honest I hadn’t a clue where one gets eels or even what they look like. But I was eager for an authentic taste of Maine, so I said yes.
Camp was not what I imagined. Originally I had taken the job for three reasons. I wanted to escape my old job, which I had the deepest loathing for. I wanted to break out from under my responsibilities and keep them in my shadow. And I wanted to plain just get away, and hide from the real world.
Now I don’t wear black clothes, or wear makeup, and I don’t listen to traditionally “emo” music. But sometimes I feel like an “emo kid” at heart. I don’t always show it, but I can get very depressed. It generally
goes away when I let it, but I find sometimes I am very clingy to my depression, which is weird. It is one of the few emotions that I can do well, and my depression keeps me going, because it gives me something to fight against.
Todd Reade Projects Inc.