The Church Camp Lifeguard
CHAPTER FOUR: REALLY GETTING TO KNOW YOU
by Sean Reid Scott
Posted: 2023 :: Approx. 8,900 words
AUTHOR’S NOTE: We continue further into part of my fantasy that—if written from the perspective of the adult—would seem to treat the idea of pedophilia as something acceptable. But please remember, this is being told from the perspective of fantasizing me—a little boy. NOT the perspective of the adult. And this IS fantasy. Nothing ever happened between Alex and myself. He never even knew I existed, I’m sure. That said, if you have a problem with this kind of material, please put this down, and go find a rerun of the Brady Bunch to watch (Greg was SO hawt!). Thanks for your understanding and your support.
AKING UP THE NEXT DAY, IN ALEX'S cabin… it was dreamy. The only thing better would have been to wake up right next to him, in his bed. That would have been a fairytale come true.
While Alex showered (he had his own cabin shower… not like us lowly campers who had to use the communal showers near our cabins), I got dressed and made his bed.
When he came out of his bathroom, he was wearing a towel around his waist, and nothing else. I literally, audibly gasped.
I mean…. You’d think spending a night in the same room as that body, you’d think all those muscles would start to get old.
Um, no.
I didn’t see how a person could ever get used to seeing all of that.
Alex's absurdly broad shoulders; gorgeously thick chest; powerfully gigantic arms; seductively defined & tight abdominals; all on that small waist… he was a living god. Beneath that white towel, Alex's enormous legs pushed the plush fabric out, unable to hide the fact that the man’s quads and hams were devastatingly huge.
“Ready to head to the mess hall for breakfast?” he smiled.
“Well, I am,” I answered. “You might want to put on more clothes. Just a suggestion.”
He laughed. “Give me a sec.” He was dressed in a flash, and we headed out.
While we walked on the path toward the mess hall, Alex said, “Obviously, not everyone agrees that a guys’ body is something to be appreciated… a normal thing to talk about, and touch. You know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Well, it’s just that some people have a problem with anything that has to do with the physical body. So we should probably keep the discussion just to ourselves, you know?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Cool. Like I said, I’m not ashamed about anything. I just wish other people could relax about it. Anyway, with that in mind, the best way to approach people about it is to not approach them at all. Mum’s the word, you know?”
“Yes. Mum’s the word.”
“Sweet.” We walked another fifty yards or so, and he said, “It’s already okay’d for you to stay with me the rest of the week.”
I looked up at him: my own personal big, daddy-brother-man. “Really?”
“Yeah. If you want to. The camp director said that’d be fine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I told him you were feeling a little self-conscious in the cabin with the other guys. I hope that’s okay. You did seem pretty quiet.”
“Yeah.”
“So,” he went on, “I told the director I thought you might do better with some one-on-one attention.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want,” he said. “But if you do want to, we can grab your sleeping bag and the rest of your stuff out of your cabin bunk. After breakfast maybe? We can take it all to my cabin then.”
“Okay.”
“You sure you want to do that?”
“Yeah.” I was a font of conversation, don’t you think? I was scared again. The idea that people might wonder what was going on in the Lifeguard’s cabin made me afraid.
Alex must have sensed that. “I promise, Bryan. It’s all okay. Happens all the time when kids need some extra care. It’s all good.”
“Okay. Good.” I definitely needed some “extra care.”
“Right after breakfast, they’re having a camp-wide scavenger hunt. No one will be in the cabins, so we can get your stuff then and discreetly make our exit.”
“Okay.” Yeah, I liked discreet. Inside, I was singing the Hallelujah Chorus. No more scary bees nests in the rafters of the cabin… no more practical jokes, no more teasing, no more fat kids threatening to sit on me. This was a dream come true. I was going to spend the next few days in Alex's muscle cabin! Or was it Muscle Alex's cabin? Maybe Alex's Cabin of Muscles.
THE WEATHER REMAINED HOT, so Alex went shirtless at the lake again that day. And of course, everyone flocked and gawked. The man’s body was stunning. And everyone wanted to be his friend. (And look at his muscles.)
But it seemed like Alex only wanted to talk to me. Sure, he interacted with the other kids, but I really felt like he and I had a friendship going. It was the coolest thing in the world. I knew I would never recover from how wonderful this was.
I still did a few things with my former cabin mates: the stupid crafts again, and shit. The cool kid, John, was very friendly to me. In fact, a number of kids were friendly with me now. Seems my association with Alexander had a positive effect on my social standing.
Alex had his regular camp duties to tend to, over and above lifeguarding shirtless. But by the time campfire rolled around that evening, we were standing together watching the embers ascend toward the stars, singing about how God could purify our hearts if we’d only let Him.
Afterward, Alex and I walked together back to his—to our—cabin.
AFTER A GREAT DAY OF OBSESSING about Alex, I once again found myself, alone in the cabin with him. I had plopped my bag and stuff on the sick bed; I wondered what we would have done if someone had needed to use it. Fortunately, I was the only one in danger of needing medical care. And I’d have been very happy to let Alex take on that task. (Mouth-to-mouth was something I’d be willing to try.)The warm lights in the cabin made the place glow with a welcoming feel.
Once Alex had the wooden door closed and locked, he turned to me. “So, do you want to watch me do some posing again? I have a few routines I’ve used for contests.”
“Yeah. Sure,” I smiled.
“Cool. I don’t have any music—we use that during bodybuilding shows—but I remember the routines from a couple of my old shows. You can tell me what you think, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Oh, and afterward I can show you some more of my strength moves.” Apparently there were more?
He set me on his bed.
He turned on a room heater to take the edge off of the cool evening.
Then he got to undressing.
Just watching the man take off his clothes was enough to make a guy come. Serious. It didn’t hurt that Alex obviously knew how to taunt his audience—make me gawk and ogle while my jaw hit the floor. He was a showman, and he liked my reactions. By now I was feeling more free to express my astonishment and awe.
By the time he had taken off everything but tonight’s skimpy thong/poser thing, I was hard, and my heart was pounding like a 21-gun salute inside my chest. Tonight’s poser was sky-blue, and it was just as indecent as last night’s yellow one. The blue pulled the color from his eyes.
The “trunks” left little to the imagination; his cock and balls pushed the waistband down and away from his hips just like last night’s had.
Alex launched into a series of poses. He was slow and seductive, showing off everything that made me hot for him. His muscles trembled when he flexed them really hard, and I was in danger of repeating last night’s out-of-control appreciation for his physique.
But that was nothing compared to when he again began to show off how strong he was.
Holy fuck!
Last night’s handstand demonstration—complete with deep, powerful dips—had been astounding. Tonight, there would be more. Serendipity must have been watching out for me, because it just so happened that Alex's cabin had open rafters—which meant there were exposed beams that made perfect chinning bars. Well, maybe not perfect; the beams were too thick to grab hold-of. “So last year I brought this,” he said, pointing up. On one of the beams he had installed a proper chin-up bar, made of metal. It was perfect to wrap hands around to perform pull-ups.
Thing was though, Alex's kind of chin-ups were a bit different than what most guys do.
“You ready?” he gave me a broad smile.
I said, “Yeah.”
“Okay. Here goes.” With that, Alex lifted one arm—yes one arm—above his head and grabbed the bar. His biceps flexed, and his body started to move upward. The fucker was doing one-arm pull-ups! How much did he weigh? Holy shit! I’d never seen anyone do one-arm pull-ups—let alone a muscle god like Alex! He must have weighed… I had no idea. I decided to wait till he was done to ask.
And it took a while! When he finished with one arm, he switched to the other one, and I watched his massive, ripped physique move up and down until he repped out.
My eyes were bugging out. “Wow! How do you do that?”
He breathed heavy. His arms had pumped up, for sure. Fuck. I couldn’t believe it. “Lots of practice,” he said. Then he lifted both gargantuan arms and flexed them into twin matterhorns. The size was unbelievable; the peaks on those things were astounding!
“How much do you weigh?” I asked.
“Well, when I left home on Sunday, I was 282.” (126 kg) He lowered his arms and relaxed.
I shook my head. “And how tall?”
“Six-foot-six.” (198 cm) I cursed under my breath. The man was a fucking god for sure. And at that time, he was stinkin’ 20 years old! If I would have had a brain that knew better—one that understood how impossible Alex actually was—I certainly would have doubted the entire scenario. He wasn’t possible. No man could be that big, that lean, that young, and that spectacular.
Yet there he was. Almost naked, flexing all over hell, showing off for me. Years later, of course I would question all of these stats. But fortunately for me, I’d come to understand exactly how true, accurate, and correct they were—regardless of the incredulity they fostered. Alex the Lifeguard was not possible. Yet… here he was. In the flesh.
ALEX STARTED WORKING OUT AGAIN, lifting his body with more pull-ups (both one- and two-arm), doing pushups (both one- and two-arm), and all kinds of stuff. He flexed and posed, and grinned, and showed off.
When he had pumped up his muscles to beautiful proportions, he paused and stood still, breathing hard. “That’s a good workout,” he smiled between breaths.
I should say so. His arms, engorged and bulging from his exertions, were mind-blowing. His chest was pumped too.
Standing there in his light blue thong-thing, he was physical perfection.
“So what do you think?” he smiled.
“Wow.”
He shook out his arms, then stepped toward me. Then, as he had done numerous times before, he plopped down on his bed and sat next to me. We both leaned back against the wooden wall.
Alex put a hand on my leg. “I’m glad you’re here, buddy. It’s a kick to have someone watch while I work out and flex.”
“I’m glad too.”
“Good. You liked last night, right?”
“Yeah. It was cool.”
“What was cool about it? What did you like the most?”
I swallowed hard. “Well, being with you.” Lame, but it basically summed up everything.
“Yeah, me too, with you.” He squeezed my leg through my jeans. “I liked just sleeping here in the cabin, too.”
Then, without talking he bent his nearest arm to me and flexed his pumped biceps muscle into a big, round, hi-peaked ball—right in front of my face. It was like a cantaloupe, no… more like a football, with a baseball bulging out of the top of it. It was just nuts! Yeah, I’d felt his arm a lot in the past day or so, but it was like I’d never ever seen it before just now! How could something get so big!
“You wanna touch it, don’t you,” he said. “Go ahead, feel all over it.”
The phrase feel all over it, was actually kind of necessary, since it was so big that it’d take some time—and some real effort—to fully encompass and appreciate its size and hardness. I lifted both hands. I placed one hand on top of it, and one hand on the bottom—the triceps. What was so amazing was that even while his arm was bent in a flex like this, his triceps was immense! It hung down, forming the lower part of his arm, making up the bulk of his arm’s size.
But it was that peak—a Matterhorn if there ever was one—on the top of his arm that just made my eyes water. My hands moved all over his arm. On top, the sides, the bottom, over, under, around… squeezing while he flexed it. He rotated his wrist and sometimes lengthened his arm just a bit, then bent it again, making his entire arm look like it was independently alive!
I don’t know how long he let me feel it, but it was a long time. When he finally lowered it, I could see that he had grown “down there,” stretching his briefs and pulling them out from his waist quite a bit.
He was sitting right next to me, on my right. The only clothing he had on was the skimpy, blue posing trunks. The color made his tan skin and golden-blond hair so hot! The trunks were really small—barely big enough to contain his penis and balls. They didn’t leave much to the imagination. Truth. I mean they bulged with the size of his cock and balls. I’d never, ever imagined a man possessing such equipment! The posers were basically obscene. And I realize now that he intended it to be that way. This was porn, to be honest. And he was all nonchalant and easy about it: almost naked, next to a muscle-worshipping twelve-year-old boy. Yet he was like… no big deal.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“If you want, you can feel my abs and chest…. Whatever you want, bud. Legs too, if you want. I don’t mind. It feels good with you next to me like this, and it feels really good when you move your hand all over me.”
Still a bit nervous—and so freakin’ excited by this—I rotated my body a bit, toward him; I put my right hand behind his ass, and I used my left hand to explore.
His chest was so mammoth and round; his abs were beyond belief—and on such a small, narrow waist and hips! “Yeah,” he said softly, “feels so good, your hand.” He waited a minute and asked, “Do you like feeling me?”
“Yeah,” I said breathlessly.
His penis and balls were amazingly big. They pushed the waistline of his trunks away from his torso… so that… you could see a lot of his pubic hair—and even part of the trunk of his cock.
I’m not lying.
But I didn’t venture my hand below his abs. That would have been too scary. I slowly enjoyed his pecs—nipples and all—his arms and shoulders, and his abs. The way his chest stood out from his abs made a huge cliff that my hand had to basically jump off every time I moved it off his pecs and down onto his abs.
I know I keep repeating myself—describing what I was seeing and feeling—but you have to know that the man was frying my brain!
His deep breaths kept making his pecs rise and fall, and his abs undulate.
“Oh, darn,” he said softly. “This actually happens a lot.” He seemed almost embarrassed. Yet… not. “You can see my pubes.” He moved his hand to his waistline, and his crotch. His lean, masculine, long fingers pulled the waistband away from his body, and it actually revealed even more pubic hair to view. “I’m kind of a big boy down there,” he said, “and, well… when it starts to get hard like this, it pushes the waistband away.” He fondled his blond-brown pubes with his long fingers. “Is this okay? That you can see so much of my pubic hair? And well, it’s hard to make sure that the root of my cock is hidden.”
I said nothing. But I couldn’t pull my eyes away.
“I should probably look into getting some bigger posers, but it’s hard to find them small enough for my hips, but big enough to contain my cock and balls.”
I swallowed, still silent. My hand trembled on its examination of his upper body.
He almost seemed to ignore my hand—like people did this all the time, or that he just felt so comfortable with me that he didn’t register my hand feeling him out like this. “But to be honest,” I saw his smile in the corner of my vision, “I guess I’m kind of a big tease. I think a lot of guys like it when I show off.” He looked down at me. “I kinda think you like it, don’t you, Bry?” He smiled bigger now.
“It’s… wow… I mean… yeah….”
“Good. I kinda thought you liked looking.”
“Yeah….”
I was hovering about six feet above my body at that moment.
“Actually, it’s just part of being a man. I mean, if you do sports in junior high and high school, you’ll see lots of guys’ pubes, and their cocks—you know, in the showers and stuff. Some guys are uncomfortable with it, but after a while it’s not embarrassing at all. I’m proud of all of my body—my muscles—you know? And I’m proud of being a man, you know? So I don’t mind it when guys see my privates, or my pubes.” With that, he lifted his waistband and let me look inside his trunks. “See… it’s all part of who we are, you know? I’m never ashamed of that.”
He held his waistband up and out. I could see just about everything down there—except that his cock was pointed down between his legs, so I couldn’t actually see his cock head. The rest of it though… it was thick and veiny. “Our bodies are wonderful—I truly believe that. And I don’t think there’s anything to be ashamed of—and I believe that when someone wants to look at me—at my muscles or whatever—I should be happy to let them. To see whatever they want to look at, you know?”
He kept his waistband pulled away from his body, letting me look all the way down inside his trunks. The man was a god down there too. I thought: Well, some bodies are more wonderful than others.
“What do you think? It’s okay if you look. It actually makes me feel good when guys like to look.” He chuckled lightly. He pushed the fingers of his free hand inside and rearranged his cock. Fuck it was as big as the rest of him! And I saw all of it! He kind of rolled it, exposing all sides of it, hefting it. It was thick and long… and veiny. He moved his fingers over it, and then pulled his balls up—still under the posers—and showed them to me too.
He buried his fingers in his pubes again, then moved his hand aside and let me look some more. I stared down there for a while, then he put his waistband back—but because his genitals made his posers tent out from his waist, you could still see a lot of his pubes and the entire root of his cock.
“To be honest, I’ve let some guys feel my pubes, and they say the hair is really thick,” he said.
I didn’t know what to say. Where was this leading? Was that actually a question? Didn’t I totally know the answer? Fuck, I hoped so.
“I mean, it’s not something most people ever talk about. A man’s pubic hair is a very personal part of who he is. It surrounds your genitals, so it’s kind of… intimate, I guess. And that’s what makes it so personal and everything.” He fondled his pubes. “I don’t think a person should show off his privates to just anyone. People would get all weirded out,” he said. “But I also think it’s important to be comfortable in your own skin. To be able to let someone look if you feel okay with it.” He looked me in the eye, and pulled my gaze to his face somehow. “I feel totally okay with letting you look, Bryan. So don’t worry about it at all.”
I felt like I was a caterpillar on the verge of metamorphosis.
He kept studying his pubes, playing with them. “Do you have much pubic hair yet? I don’t remember when I started getting hair down there, but I think it was later than twelve years old. So maybe it’s something you’re curious about. It’s totally natural. Most guys aren’t as big as me, but you’ll probably get as much hair as I have. I even trim them with a razor.” While he talked, he played with his pubes, and adjusted his genitals too. “Dunno why it feels so good, but it’s kind of relaxing to me… to just put my fingers in there… like this… and feel. I guess that’s why other guys like it too. Sometimes when I’m at home, I just put my hand in my pants and feel. It’s relaxing.”
He didn’t look at me, which was a relief. He studied what he was doing. His thick forearms were ripped and veiny. They rippled when he moved his fingers. Down there, he was indeed groomed, but not manicured. He had no hair on his body except for his head and his pubes.
“Some guys kinda get a kick out of pubic hair I guess. If you don’t, no worries. To tell the truth, for me it’s pretty cool, to be honest… it really feels good to touch ‘em.”
I didn’t respond.
He kept playing with himself while I watched. “To be honest, when I do this, it makes me even harder. And well, your hand moving over my muscles doesn’t hurt,” he chuckled. I didn’t stop touching his upper body… over, around, up, down…. “I hope you don’t… I mean… that’s also a part of being a man. Getting an erection is… well, it’s basically how we keep the human species going, you know? That’s what sex is all about. Well, except I don’t have any plans to have sex with anyone who could make babies,” he laughed. “As far as that goes, sex is also for pleasure.” He paused for a moment. “But you know how our people look at that kind of stuff. So… another reason for Mum’s the word, right?”
I nearly fell off the bed—and I wasn’t even sitting next to the edge. Alex, the muscle-man-of-my-dreams, just told me he had the same feelings as I did. It was incomprehensible. I wasn’t alone? I wasn’t the only one? And it was Alex who had admitted it? Not some weirdo, sick-looking, weak, sniveling weirdo—like me—who said he was… gay? I didn’t know how to process this. But Alex didn’t give me time to even start.
“So anyway, I think it’s something to be proud of, not something to hide and be ashamed of—as long as the other person is interested too, you know?”
I did know. But I still hadn’t convinced myself that Alex was totally on the up-and-up here. I still had a gnawing fear that he was setting me up—that he just wanted me to admit my interest… in all this… and then he’d pounce, accusing me of being the pervert I knew I was. He’d just admitted to sharing my most secret feelings, but had he done that just to trap me?
He continued, “I mean, posing for people—sometimes, if they look like they’re interested, it makes me start growing. And that makes me feel good, you know? I think you’ll understand as you get older. It’s a feeling of satisfaction when people appreciate the hard work you do to build up your body. So, when I start flexing, and the guy looks like he’s enjoying my physique, well…. It’s a natural reaction, honestly. And when I flex for you—well, it makes me feel good. Nothing to be ashamed of. I truly believe that. It’s a compliment in a way.”
He was definitely trying to sell the idea that him showing himself to me like this was innocent and as pure as the driven snow.
Then he grabbed his cock and adjusted it inside his posers. He pulled it up, it so it was no longer pointing downward. The thick thing was now pointing to his left hip—the hip closest to me. It was still mostly-covered, but not all of it. And it was so obviously right there. “So… this is what happens, I guess,” he chuckled while he touched his growing cock.
He withdrew his hand, and started stroking his growing, mostly-covered erection with the tips of his fingers… just tickling it, up and down, on the outside of the thin fabric…. “To be honest, I’ve even let guys touch my cock and balls. Again, just sayin’. So don’t be talking about it to others. But I think it’s just part of who I am, you know? And a lot of guys like to touch it. It does get pretty big—and really, really hard. So a lot of times, guys get pretty amazed, and they want to touch it.” He moved his fingers over his pubes some more. “And like I said, if someone’s interested, I usually don’t mind it.”
In my cocoon, I was feeling wings developing. Metamorphosis had started.
He moved his long, masculine fingers up and down his enormous, hard, veiny shaft; the thin nylon fabric that covered it clung to it. It was porn to watch him do this… slowly, relaxed while he talked. “Right now, I’m sure yours is a lot smaller, and probably no hair. I remember mine didn’t start to get big like this until I was in high school, so you still have a few years to go.”
I couldn’t imagine me carrying around something like that.
“So don’t worry that you’re not this big yet. Actually most guys won’t get this big,” he said. He lifted his lengthening pole off his torso, just an inch or two, as if to show it to me—to let me admire it. “I’ve measured it, and looked up some numbers—in books, and it says I’m bigger than about 90 percent of other guys.” He lifted his arm and flexed it for a sec: “But then, I guess I’m bigger in most all areas, huh?” He laughed. He let go of himself and let his erection plop against his hip. Then he went on: “Anyway, I remember when I was your age. I was still little down there.” He took one hand and pointed at my crotch, and he actually touched my pants there with the tip of his pointer finger\—all, like it was nothing to worry about. Still, he moved his other hand over his shaft, absently, while he talked. “As a matter of fact, I think smaller penises are awesome on younger guys like you. Sometimes it’s fun to compare—to see the difference in how big you might get.”
I didn’t say anything. So we sat in silence for a moment, just staring at him touching himself—his enormous, hard self—while he moved his fingertips over the very, very thin fabric covering it. It was so damn sexy, virile… masculine.
Then he said, “It’s kinda big, isn’t it?”
I swallowed hard, then eked out a dry, “Yeah.”
“Is this okay? That I’m letting you look at it?”
“Yeah. It’s okay.”
“Cool. I thought you were curious—just like I was when I was your age. Do you like looking at it?” Even though it was mostly covered, it was so fucking huge… and obvious.
“Yeah… I mean… wow.”
I just loved his long fingers. He moved them through his dark blond forest for a minute, then asked, “You want to feel ’em? My pubes?”
I couldn’t answer.
“You can if you want. I mean you’re feeling the rest of me. This is another part of who I am, that’s all.”
I was light-headed. And so fucking turned on. “Oh… uh…”
“But only if you want. It’s actually kinda cool to feel ‘em. Like a little forest for your fingertips.”
Hmmm…. He kept asking me to, so… I guessed it would be okay. Alex certainly wasn’t having a problem with me touching him… all over. And like I said, this felt so comfortable, quiet, and intimate. I was swooning over him. And he was just letting me snuggle up next to his nearly-naked muscle body! And he was obviously getting harder by the minute. So maybe he wasn’t trying to entrap me… I mean, if he was reacting that way….
So… emboldened by his prompting—and my pre-teen reasoning abilities—I ran my hand down his abs again, but this time I kept going… lower. My fingers tingled. This was so hot! I was going to put my hands into a guy’s pubic hair? And not just “a guy,” but Alexander himself? And to leave my fingers in his pubes?
I moved my hand downward, over his belly button. And lower. He held still, and the anticipation heightened. I hesitated. But then I did it. I pushed the tips of my fingers into his hair. I was feeling Alex's pubes! Shit!
Damn. I couldn’t believe he was letting me do this.
The hair was thick and curly, of course. A forest of masculinity and sexy, powerful virility… surrounding my fingers. I moved my fingertips through the curls. A bit lower.
“You like feeling ‘em?” he cooed.
“Wow.” I nodded.
“Feels good to me too, Bry. I love it when you enjoy my body, man—all parts of it. It makes all the hours in the gym worth it when you react like that. Thanks.”
“Oh… fuc…. Mmmmm…. Just… wow.” I was trembling all over.
“You can push your fingers inside a little bit farther. I really don’t mind.”
He wanted me to put my hand inside? Inside his posing trunks?
“I mean, if you want to. You might be surprised at what you find,” he chuckled.
“Um….”
I kept moving my fingers through his pubes. He kept getting harder, making his waistband pull away from his body even more… so there was more and more to see…. “You can touch my abs and chest some more, too,” he prompted.
I decided to take his suggestion. I moved my hand up, over his abs again. Damn, that never, ever got old! Up onto his pecs. If this wasn’t intimate, I don’t know what was! He just let me feel out his chest! Repeatedly! And I started to pinch his nipples sometimes. His breath hitched when I did that, so I knew he liked it.
Then I made the return trip down his fat-free, lean, vascular muscles. Lower. And into his pubes again. I repeated this over and over… feeling his body up and down, touching his big muscles, loving the no-fat, warm skin… and each time, at the bottom, I pushed my fingers slightly lower, under the fabric of his posing trunks… or whatever they were. And each time, my fingers started touching the root of his cock!
He closed his eyes and moaned softly while my hand felt all over him. And when I pushed into the gap between his waistband and his torso, he moaned again, totally encouraging what I was doing.
“Mmmmm…” he purred. “Nice. God….”
“Yeah.” I was trembling all over. It seemed so insane that it was actually happening. That he was letting me. I never imagined something like this would ever happen. And the fact that he’d used the Lord’s name in vain gave me even more confidence.
“You like doing this?” he asked.
“Yeah. Wow.”
Then, while my fingertips rested in his pubes, knocking right up against the thick root of his sideways-pointed cock, Alex took my hand and wrapped it in his. “Dude, you have no idea how much you’re turning me on, man. Here. You should feel this.” He lifted my hand and put it on the outside of his posers! Right on top of his left-pointing cock! He left it there and said, “See? You are really making me hard, man.” He let go. “You can touch it there all you want. Whatever you feel comfortable doing.”
I couldn’t not. I squeezed it lightly. Damn, it was huge. I mean, he wasn’t even all the way erect—his penis was tucked inside the material, getting bigger and harder—and I doubted I could get my hand all the way around it if I tried.
“Wow, that feels good when you squeeze it, Bry,” he said softly. Do you like touching it?”
“Yeah.”
“And do you like knowing that you can make it hard like that?”
“Oh, fuck…” I whispered. “Wow.” Yeah, all pretense of propriety—language or otherwise—had been eliminated.
“Nice. Have at it dude.”
I kept feeling his cock through the fabric, skimming my hand… my fingers… all over it. And he let me. Holy holy holy, it was so big! Long and thick. I could even feel the veins that wrapped all over it—even with the nylon fabric still covering it.
“Damn, if you keep this up, I’m gonna have to jack off and come…. I mean, this feels reeeeeally good, man.”
“Wow. You’re really big. You’re getting really… uh….”
“Hard, dude. And that’s on you, bud,” he chuckled. “Damn, I’m serious, Bryan. You have no idea how good this feels. It’s like you have a magic hand, man.” He paused for a second, and I noticed he was breathing heavy now. “I’ve never….” He didn’t finish his sentence.
Then I did it. I pulled my hand off the material and pushed my fingers back inside his posers, moving them onto his growing shaft. I was holding his penis. Inside his skimpy bikini thing! Right on his cock. No fabric between!
“Fuuuuck, yeah,” he said.
This was too fucking hot. A fantasy come true. And the fact that he was encouraging me… and invoking the word fuck made me feel more comfortable going into this forbidden place. I pushed my hand all the way down inside. I felt every encasing vein… the hardness… the thickness… his big, heavy balls… everything. After a long time of feeling his cock and balls, I pulled up and ran my hand over his hard torso, over his abs, onto his magnificent, heaving pecs again. And his shoulders and arms.
“Goddamn,” he mumbled. “So good. Sweet Jesus you know how to touch me, dude.” Yeah, his words. That totally gave me permission. And I knew that cussing… was the least of the sins we were committing here. I, for one, was fully invested in the erotic, lustful thoughts I was having. And the way Alex was moaning and encouraging me, he was just as invested as I was—if not more.
While my hand was inside his posers, I felt his hand move onto my crotch. Oh fuuuuuuuck. He was touching me—there. I was as hard as a little twelve-year-old can get. He squeezed my crotch. “Wow, you’re hard. Would it be okay… if I touched it?”
I couldn’t really refuse that request, given where my hand was. I nodded. “Okay.” The anticipation was going to make me explode. He started to unzip my jeans. He opened my pants and pushed his fingertips inside my underwear.
“Wow, you really are hard, just like me,” he said. His voice held… wonder. Like he really enjoyed touching me. Fuck, I was so small. It was embarrassing. But honestly, all of my embarrassment was overshadowed by my awe, lust, and excitement over the feel of his fingers on me. My little cock wasn’t bigger than any of his fingers, but his touch was so tender and careful…. I was going insane. His touch drove me wild. “This is okay, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks. Man, Bry… I love this. Touching each other like this… it’s awesome.”
I squeezed his enormous, thick, long cock… then his balls too. He squeezed mine. We played with each other in tender silence for a while.
Then he looked me in the eye and said, “I’m so glad you’re here, Bryan.” His eyes twinkled. He leaned his face toward mine and kissed me on the forehead. He pulled his face back and asked, “Is it alright if I kiss you on the lips?”
Holy fucking hell. I couldn’t get out any words, so I just nodded, slightly.
He smiled. While we both fondled each other’s genitals, he brought his lips to mine. It was the first time I’d ever kissed anyone on the lips. Ever. Pretty sure that was true. I mean, I was only twelve. For sure I’d never kissed a man. His lips pressed against mine; then he ran his tongue across my lips, and I jerked back.
He pulled back. “Is that okay? It’s called Frenching. It’s where one person puts his tongue inside the other guy’s mouth. You might not like it at first. It might feel a bit weird, so don’t worry if it feels funny. But I promise, as you get older, you’re gonna want to do it all the time,” he chuckled. “Can I show you? Just let me know if you don’t like it, and I’ll stop. But I hope you’ll give it a try for a minute.” His eyes seemed to plead for permission. “It’s a very personal gesture. Once you get used to it, I’ll move my tongue all over the inside of your mouth… over your teeth, your tongue, the roof of your mouth… and I think you’ll like it if you give it a few minutes. I know I really love it.”
I gave my approval by leaning my face up to his.
He smiled. Just before our lips met again he said, “Just relax your lips and let me push inside.” I did. And that phrase, push inside, made me shiver. I’d seen more than muscle magazines under my brother’s bed—he’d come out many years later—and I knew what anal sex was. The thought of Alex pushing inside me that way… it was so fucking hot….It felt really weird—Frenching. I didn’t like it at first. Like an invasion—which was exactly what it was, I guess. He moved his tongue gently, slowly around my mouth, and I could tell he was enjoying it, because he moaned. That made me feel really good, even though it was still weird. But I decided to take his advice and give it a chance. Did I mention intimate? This was the most intimate thing I’d ever done. Well, aside from feeling his big cock through the fabric. But fuck… the more he did it, the better it became.
He moved us both—with ease—so that we were lying horizontal on his bed. His back was against the wall; mine was near the open edge of the bed. He held me close.
He moaned again. Sometimes he’d pull out, and kiss normally—with just the lips—then he’d stick his tongue inside my mouth again. And after a few minutes of this—lying next to each other—I was on fire. The weirdness of this had gone away, and now all I wanted was for him to push his tongue down my throat. Just shove it all the way down my fucking throat! I started poking my tongue back, inside him. Holy, holy fuck.
Alex breathed hard through his nose; I felt the air move out of his nostrils—heard it too. And that was the coolest thing ever. He was getting really turned on, kissing a twelve-year-old boy on his bed, while said twelve-year-old was feeling his cock.
I squeezed him. He moaned some more. His warm body, next to mine… his tongue inside my mouth… my hands all over his muscles, and his cock.
He kept touching me… stroking me lightly…. Then, without warning my penis started shooting cum onto his hand. As I did yesterday, my whole body jerked with each ejaculation. Alex groaned, acknowledging what was happening. I groaned back, holding on to his shaft. I was out of control spurting my jizz. It wasn’t much, but it was all me.
“Oh, yeah, Bry. I love it. You’re coming again… all because of me? Mmmmm…. Just let it squirt, dude. Enjoy it. Squirt all over my arm. I want to see how much cum I can make you squirt, so don’t hold back.” He kissed me again and we both moaned and groaned together while I continued to squirt.
Again? He said again? He’d known I’d come yesterday? Shiiiiiit.
“Wow, was that bigger than yesterday’s?” he chuckled. I could feel the resonance of his voice with my ear against his chest. He had a resonant, deep-yet-not-overbearing voice. If his muscles didn’t melt me, his voice would have. God damn. GOD DAMN.
He’d known. Fucking fuck, he’d known I’d come! He’d known that he’d made me come! Both times yesterday?
He took the opportunity to answer the question for me: “Bigger than either of yesterday’s?”
“Ohhhhhh….” I moaned. I was exhausted.
“I remember the first time I did that with a muscle guy. I was kinda scared,” he said. “I mean, I had just been feeling his muscles—like you are now—and I started squirting in my pants. But he told me it was all normal. Dude, you have no idea how many guys there are who have orgasms over muscles. I always have. And if you can come—over my muscles, well you do too. And it’s all good. So cool.”
I finished squirting, and we just rested like that.
“It feels good, doesn’t it. To come like that I mean,” he said softly. Absently, I moved my hand up off his cock and felt out his big pecs some more. “I mean, just the feeling of your semen shooting, it makes your whole body tingle, right? And when your penis is all hard like that, it’s really, really sensitive. It feels so good to touch. And to rub it to make the jizz squirt out.”
I moaned something.
“I love coming. It’s the best feeling in the world,” and you should never regret or feel bad when you come.” He paused a second then asked, “Do you usually feel bad afterwards? After you masturbate?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought so. I used to too. I remember when I first started masturbating. I was about your age—maybe a bit younger,” he said.
He knew I’d just come, and he knew I’d come because of him. But that didn’t mean I wanted to talk about this.
“So, do you do it much? Masturbating? I mean, I know some dudes don’t like to talk about it, but it’s something every guy does.”
I swallowed hard.
While we lay there, talking, he played with my penis… sloshing my cum with his fingertips. I kept feeling out his big shaft and balls. “You don’t have to say, though. But I mean, you did just come right now, so….”
“Yeah,” I admitted. I could only get out that one word. Certainly, I was not going to tell him that he was the guy I always thought about when I did.
“Cool. Well, I promise, you aren’t alone. Everyone jacks off. Hell, I do it every day!” He chuckled. “Swear on the Bible. Sometimes, two or three times a day!”
Wow. Wow. Really? Wow!
“So, I’m glad you do it too,” he continued. “I mean, I’m glad you feel like you can talk about it. It’s definitely a normal, natural thing for a guy to do. Just don’t let anyone make you feel bad about it. It’s natural. For me, I love it. I jack off so fucking much it’s not even silly.” He took his hand off my cock and made a mock jerking-off motion above his bulging posers, He chuckled: “Know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve never talked… to anyone… about it.”
“Oh, yeah, I get that. I never did either. Was too friggin’ afraid. I thought it was a really bad thing. But everyone does it, man.” He pushed his hand back inside my underwear. “So I hope you can tell me anything you want. It’s important to have someone to talk to about private stuff. When I was a kid, I was really afraid about doing it—masturbating. At first it scared me… making that white stuff come out. I thought maybe I had some kind of disease… cancer or something… and I was too afraid to ask anyone about it. And the problem was that even though I was scared about it, I couldn’t stop myself. It felt so damn good to do all the time. I wish I could have talked about it with someone older.”
“Well, okay. Yeah. It’s still a bit funny to say though.”
“No worries, Bryan. It’s all up to you,” he squeezed my genitals—easily encasing all of me in his hand. “But maybe I can make you more comfortable with doing it. With not feeling bad about it I mean. I went through a lot of turmoil over it. And there’s no way a cool dude like you should feel uncomfortable with something that’s so natural—and actually healthy.”
He saw my hesitation.
“It is healthy. You need to masturbate regularly. I mean, it’s a natural thing. And your body is healthier if you take care of it. Masturbation is good for your prostate. That’s an organ down near your crotch. Plus you need to get erections—all stiff and hard, you know? It’s part of how your body works. And who knows what other benefits there are to getting a hard-on and rubbing one out. So don’t ever try to limit that, okay? I’m speaking from experience. Every time I masturbate, it feels soooo good. That’s because it’s actually good for you, okay?”
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I totally thought masturbation was a sin. And here was a Church Camp counselor telling me it was okay? And the man telling me was the man I always thought about when I did it?
So I just had to voice my thoughts: “They say it’s a sin though.”
“Well, I don’t see how people can say that. There’s no Bible verses about it. The one they always use, it’s in the Old Testament, and it’s not even about masturbating. The story is all about the guy not wanting to get the woman pregnant, so he ‘spilled his seed on the ground.’ A lot of pastors say that means masturbation, but the context doesn’t support that in any way.”
“Really?” I was starting to like this guy’s theology.
He pulled his hand from my underwear and stuck a cum-drenched finger into his mouth. He grinned. “Damn, Bry. You taste good.” He laughed at my wide-eyed expression. He put his hands back into my underwear and continued: “Anyway, yeah. There’s a lot of people out there who don’t think that jacking off is bad.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “So anyway, you can talk or not. No worries. I just brought it up because I remember being so unsure and scared. I always thought it was a bad thing. But I want you to know that it's actually very, very good, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And you can talk to me about it whenever you want. I know it would have made a big difference for me—if I had someone to talk to about it.” Alex kissed and Frenched me. I sucked on his tongue, encouraging him to shove it in farther. I think I tasted my cum on his mouth.
I kept my hand inside his trunks, holding his cock, feeling it out. It was so big! I was thinking, just by feeling it, that it was probably bigger than the ones the porno guys in my brother’s magazines had. I couldn’t believe how big it was.
Alex pulled out of my mouth, again, and he smiled. His eyes twinkled. “Wow,” he said softly.
I grunted. My eyes were half closed and I’m pretty sure my eyeballs were rolled back in my head. Alex chuckled at that. “Dude, you gonna be okay?”
I opened my eyes and nodded. Shit his face was gorgeous. And all those muscles too! Just looking at him, I squeezed out another squirt.
Alex smiled again. “Come ‘ere,” he grinned. He moved me with his big, strong arms—as if I was a feather—while he rolled on top of me. Holy fuck! I stared up into his eyes. His smile was bright. His big, muscular, warm body was right on top of me—lying on top of me. He supported himself on his elbows and forearms, on the outsides of my little shoulders. He looked down into my eyes. Then he kissed me again. “Did you like that?” he asked softly when he pulled back.
“Wow…. Uh… yeah.” I collected myself and asked, “I still have a hard time… I mean… knowing that… you knew? That’ I’d done that last night?”
His smile was blinding. “Yeah. I did. And I loved it. I fucking loved it then, and I fucking love it now.”
Such language from a Church Camp counselor! I loved it. “You fucking did?” I said, trying to be a tease.
He laughed. “Yeah. I fucking did.” He pelted my lips, cheeks, nose, forehead, and then my neck with kiss after kiss. The kisses on my neck tickled like heck, but I loved it. Then he said, “It’s so cool. To think that I made you do that. And three times!”
Well, technically, you’ve made me come many times more than just three.
He kissed me. “So, well, I’m gonna help clean up that mess. I mean, I’m responsible for it. And my mommy always taught me to clean up any mess I make.” He pulled up and showed me how much cum I had squirted onto his veiny forearm.
“Oh, okay.”
“But I wanna stay here for a bit,” he said. “Is that okay? For me to be on top of you like this? It feels like I’m protecting you.”
And that concept nearly made me come again. He was like this big, huge, muscular, all-powerful Daddy, protecting me and keeping me safe.
I nodded, and then I put my hands on his back. Jesus fucking Christ on a merry-go-round! His back was wide—like nothing I was prepared to feel. And it was lumpy with mounds and mounds of really hard muscles! Did I mention that the man had, like, no fat? He had so many huge muscles it wasn’t even funny. I moved my worshipping hands all over his fucking wide back, and down to his waist. He started kissing me again.
— SRS
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