After 18 years running a summer camp for boys, I can tell you that one of the finest ways to wake up is to the feel of a young pair of lips wrapped around your morning wood. I opened my eyes to discover Carey Winslow, one of our favorite campers, kneeling between my legs, muzzle occupied with my turgid cock. I smiled, sleepily, putting a hand on his head, encouraging him to bob up and down. I needn't have bothered; Carey's been coming to Camp Summerflame for a few years now, and he's gotten to know how I like a blowjob very well. In no time, I felt myself tipping past the point of no return. I gritted my teeth, clenched my hand on the back of his head, pushing him down a bit deeper, and began to unload spurt after spurt of badgercum down his throat. He dutifully swallowed it all before I finally let him up.

“And good morning to you, too, Carey,” I said, giving his hair a fond tussle.

“Heh,” the little brown bear said, lifting his head, using his forearm to wipe off his lips. “I hope you don't mind, Mr. Burkessen,” he said with a little grin. “Cookie sent me to tell you the coffee was ready, and you seemed to be having a very nice dream. It seemed like a shame to wake you.” He was dressed in jeans shorts and the standard red t-shirt with the camp's logo on it. Like many of the campers and staff (including myself), he preferred to go barefoot.

I sat up, with the little guy still kneeling between my legs. “I don't mind, dear boy. And coffee sounds wonderful. I'll be out to the mess shortly. You should go get your own breakfast...a proper breakfast,” I said quickly, cutting off the cheeky remark he was opening his mouth to make. “Cookie will be disappointed if you don't eat what he's been working on.”

He grinned again and slipped out of bed. “Yessir, Mr. Burkessen. I would never want to disappoint Cookie.” He stood up straight, shot me a little salute, and headed out the door of my cabin. I scratched my belly, swinging my legs out and putting them on the wooden floor, stretching my body this way and that. I'm pushing fifty, and it takes me a little longer to get all the snaps, crackles, and pops out of my body these days.

Maybe I should introduce myself. I'm Burkett Burkessen. Yes, I'm a badger, a European Badger to be precise. Yes, I'm quite tall, I know, and very thick, with my round muscle belly. I actually did wrestling in high school and was on our team when we took the state championship in '93. I still hit the gym regularly, but I'm sedentary enough that this round tummy of mine seems unlikely to go away.

I went to Camp Summerflame myself when I was a lad. I was 11 the first year I went, although we take boys down to the age of 8. Puberty was just beginning to awaken a few funny feelings in me, and going to a camp of nothing but boys and men was...illuminating. I begged my parents to send me back year after year, but the oldest campers are 15. The year after that, I applied and was accepted to be a junior counselor. When I turned 21, I became a full counselor. I came back every summer, eventually accepting a permanent staff position when I turned 30. And shortly thereafter, Jimmy Swindon and his husband Gary, who own the place, asked me to be the Chief of Staff, a position I have occupied ever since.

It's not just a summer job, despite what you might think. Although the regular Boys' Camp runs for eight weeks over June, July, and August, there are groups that rent the place for cabin camping as early as late April and as late as early October. We also do all kinds of events, like an Easter Egg hunt, a Haunted Campground for Halloween, and, of course, Santa's Village all through late November and December. I love playing Santa for the kids every year.

That being said, the eight weeks of Boys' Camp are the heart and soul of Summerflame. Jimmy Swindon's parents, Lyle and Lois, bought the place in the 50s with an eye towards teaching boys all kinds of lessons over the eight week summer months – arts, crafts, woods-skills, cooking, drama, music, and healthy, normal values. Of course, boys being boys, they learned a lot of other things, too, that Lyle and Lois wouldn't have approved of. Jimmy learned them for sure, and, when he became a counselor, he taught those lessons well to new batches for campers. And then he married Gary Lopez, who he'd met at camp when they were boys. Once they were in charge, let's say that the healthy, normal values took a back seat to some of the other lessons.

Now, don't get me wrong. We don't have merit badges for buttfucking or anything that blatant. The older staff have gotten a good feel for which boys are receptive to the lessons we offer, and we make sure to pair those boys with counselors who'll be kind and patient with them, letting them discover what they might want to do. And when we're wrong, we make sure those boys go home telling about the best damned summer camp anyhow. But when we're right, those boys learn a lot, and many of them go on to become counselors themselves.

As staff, I have a small private shower in my quarters, but I like to eschew it many days in the name of male camaraderie. There's a large showerhouse across the main field from my cabin where the boys, and many of the counselors and other staff, can shower. There are no dividers; showerheads and controls just stick out of the concrete walls of a large room, and everyone is in full view of everyone else. The staff has nicknamed it Stage One, because the reaction of the boys often gives good clues as to whether or not they'll be interested in more later on. Some boys are shy and simply keep to themselves. Others are boisterous, showing off a developing body with glee. The ones to watch for are the ones who give furtive glances, and, when they are noticed and given an encouraging smile, give a small, secret smile back. Those are often the ones I find are the most ready to be gently guided into more. The others may be up for play, as well, but it takes a little more figuring out.

With a towel tied around my waist and my toiletries bag in my hand, I strode out of my cabin, heading across the field. A breeze barely stirred the oaks, birches, elms, and pines that provide shade throughout much of the campground. There were already a number of boys milling around, waiting for the bell to sound breakfast, most of them wearing the traditional red t-shirts with our logo of a campfire with the Big Dipper above it. Some were clustered into knots on the porch of the mess hall, talking together. A few were kicking a soccer ball around, led by an older boy. It was already warm, and the sky was that amazing color of summer blue, delicately streaked with clouds. It was going to be a hot day; I could hear a few buzzing cicadas already. By afternoon, there would be a deafening chorus of them. I knew a lot of activities today would be at the lake, but I made a mental note to talk to everyone about moving a few things around so that nothing too  physical would be happening during the height of the heat. It might also be a good day to open the camp store and to make sure we had free popsicles in the afternoon as well. I made a mental note to talk to Cookie about it after breakfast.

I heard a wolf-whistle from one side and glanced over. Danny Meadows was standing in the field with the group of younger boys who had been kicking the soccer ball, and he was grinning at me. The junior counselor was a tall white rabbit with spots on his cheeks around his whiskers that looked like freckles and a mop of unruly auburn hair. He had been one of our special boys, and I'd always liked his cheeky charm. “Looking good, Mr. Burkessen!” he called over.

“Thank you, Danny,” I called back. “Shower time.”

“Good call, sir.” I heard him speaking more quietly to the boys with the ball. “Anyone not shower who wants to get it in before breakfast?”

“I...I should probably take one,” said a small, high voice. I didn't have to look to know who it was. Marty Liu was a red panda enjoying his first year with us. All of us had agreed that he was likely to be one of our special boys, but, since it was only the first week of eight, we were giving him time to prove us right or wrong. No boy should be rushed. Some aren't ready yet, even if they're interested, and some won't be ready until after high school. One important rule is that we never did anything with the boys that they didn't want or try to force them along. Anyone who would hurt a child or force them against their will is the lowest of the low. We'd only had one incident in the years I've been Chief of Staff, and I terminated his employment without hesitation.

I saw Marty hurrying off to his cabin pout of the corner of my eye, and I slowed my walk a little, giving him time to end up in the shower room with me. After all, I was fairly sure that's why he had decided he needed a shower at that moment. I was flattered, and not for the first time. Marty had seemed a bit fascinated by me from the first time we shook hands on Arrival Day. I'd had a good feeling about him, and the other counselors did as well. Maybe we'd see today if we were right.

Inside the showerhouse, I hung up my towel and toiletries bag on a peg in the dry zone, hung my soap on a rope around my neck, then walked, naked into the large concrete room. I turned on the water, which got nice and warm, then stepped in, letting it wash away the tensions in my muscles and soak deeply into my fur. 

I started at my crotch, which was still a bit ripe from a certain young bear's attentions. I chuckled at the thought. Carey was a special boy indeed. He clearly knew about what we wanted to teach our boys by the time he arrived, and he happily and freely shared his affections with campers, counselors, and staff alike. He came back the following year and the following with no obvious change in age. When he'd explained his origins and that he wasn't getting any older, it caused some issues. Camp rules said no campers past 15, and Carey was much older than that, but he still looked 12 and always would. I hated to send someone away who so obviously loved coming to camp, so, in the end, we gave him a special position of Camper Counselor Liaison. It was a compromise that suited all of us.

By the time Marty appeared at the showerhouse, I was shampooing my hair with my pine-scented soap on a rope. I pretended not to notice his arrival as he slipped in, hung up his towel on a peg, and came in. When he started a second shower, I looked over. “Oh, hello, Marty. Beautiful morning. Gonna be a hot one!”

Marty had chosen a showerhead just a couple down from mine. With his fur matted down from the water, you could see he had a lean build with a little pudgy belly and thick hips and thighs. Very cute, I thought. He gave me a nervous little smile. “Hello, Mr. Burkessen, sir. It's pretty warm, yeah, but I like hot weather.”

I chuckled. “Well, it's summer camp after all. It's to be expected.” I continued scrubbing suds into my head, half-closing my eyes, pretending not to see him. I watched him through mostly-closed lids. And, sure enough, I watched his eyes roam slowly down from my face to my lap. He bit his lip, reaching down to fondle himself gently. Oh yes. He was almost certainly one of our special boys. I yawned, which brought his attention back up to my face, and I washed the suds out of my hair. I smiled at him, then acted like something was dawning on me. “Oh! You got a Gold Spark in archery this week, didn't you? So you'll be canoeing out to Mystery Island with the group tonight to camp out in the Tree Fort, won't you?”

His face lit up. “Yeah! I'm so excited! Danny says that's a real honor.”

I nodded. “Especially for a first year camper, that's fantastic. Hmm...you know, I haven't camped on Mystery Island in a year or two. Maybe I'll join the group tonight.” I held up my hands. “Don't worry...I won't crowd you boys. I know I'm not super cool to have around.”

“Aw, I think you're pretty cool, Mr. Burkessen,” he said, with that sweet little smile. What a precious creature. Yes, camping the night with a special boy like that did sound lovely.

“Well, we'll see if I can pull myself way from my duties.” I turned off the shower, crossed right in front of him, and grabbed my towel. I dried myself off, letting him watch. “I need to get back and get dressed. Mess bell's going to ring any minute, and we don't want to miss any of Cookie's pancakes, do we?” I winked, playfully. 

His whole face lit up in a smile. “No sir, Mr. Burkessen! We sure don't!”

“See you later, Marty,” I said, with a wave, heading out the door. I walked back, dried off some more at my cabin, then got dressed. We made the camp shirts in red for the campers, so they'd be easier to spot in the woods. The junior counselors got their shirts in purple to show their transitions, and the counselors and most of the camp staff got theirs in royal blue. As Chief of Staff, my t-shirt was so navy blue as to be almost black, just so everyone remembered I had been a counselor once, but I was past that now. I liked to think of it as being the sunlight in the evening, starting with a red sunset and deepening towards night.

I headed towards the Mess Hall just in time to see Cookie step out and ring the cowbell and hoot and holler to bring the boys to breakfast. I chuckled and hastened my steps, knowing full well I was in no danger of missing out. Cookie's budget for food was generous, and there was always plenty. If anything, we all admired his ingenuity in using leftovers. Omelets, stews, hashes, and casseroles found bits of previous meals in them, and, when that failed, we would donate foil trays of food to the local food bank over in Hadley. Cookie's real name was Curtis Jefferson, and he was a big-bellied opossum who was almost as wide as he was tall. He rarely showed interest in playing with the boys, but sometimes he took a fancy to a lad, who got lots of extra treats that summer.

The Mess Hall was barely contained chaos when I got there. Each cabin got its own large picnic table, where the 8-12 campers would sit on benches along each side, with their counselor at one end and their junior counselor at the other. Most of my non-counselor staff sat with me at a smaller table at one end of the room. Cookie and his assistants, usually drawn from volunteers among the older campers, had their own small table for when they were finished cooking and serving. I was the last of the staff team to arrive, so I took my place among them.

I had Cisco Jimmenez on my right side, a margay with a lanky build who was head of the Ropes Course. Next to him was Charlie Carter, a raccoon with a sweet smile who was our songmaster and staff child psychologist. Felix Blaze, a white-tailed deer who headed our activities and athletics, was at the far end of the table, laughing and chatting animatedly with Tommy Tanaka, a second generation Japanese-American Hokkaido dog who was our educational coordinator and camp nurse. Finally, wedged between Tommy and I on my left-hand side was “Lanky” Lance Ruder, our river otter swimming and canoeing instructor. Although we sometimes got our handyman, Frank Connelly, to sit at the staff table, the portly beaver generally preferred to sit with Cookie, since the two were old friends.

I chatted with Lanky and Cisco for the most part, occasionally fielding questions from the rest of the table, but I liked breakfast to be informal and friendly. I liked my staff to be friends with each other, and they were already bonding well this summer. Most of them were repeats, although Tommy was new. He had been a counselor in previous years, though, so he knew most of the staff through those experiences. I let the group know I wanted to have a staff meeting after breakfast to discuss moving things a bit and how to deal with the high heat, and then, when I was sure most everyone had finished breakfast, I got up and moved in front of the table. I didn't need to call attention, because most of the rowdy group quieted down when I stood, but a few stragglers silenced when Cookie gave his signature whistle. I grinned my thanks to him and looked around, smiling and nodding at the kids.

“Good morning, Campers,” I called, protecting to the back of the room.

“Good morning, Mr. Burkessen!” they chanted back, not entirely in unison.

“Hope everyone is ready for another amazing day here at Camp Summerflame!” I called out, and I was treated to a chorus of raucous yells and whistles and cheers. When they quieted again, I nodded. “Me too, but we need to be aware of a few things. It's going to be a really hot day today. Make sure you're drinking plenty. There's always water here at the Mess Hall, and I'm sure Cookie will have Gatorade available as well. Remember, if you're feeling hot and then suddenly don't feel hot, you're not 'getting used to it.' That can mean heat prostration. Come immediately to see Tommy, so he can make sure you're okay. And if you're not, please do what he says. Better to miss part of the day cooling down than miss the week going to the hospital.”

I like the seriousness sink in. “Now, that being said, we're going to have a Staff Meeting after Announcements to discuss moving things around. We'll probably spend more time down at the Lake today to keep cool.” That got a lot of cheers, but a few boys looked uncomfortable. “Don't worry. If you didn't opt in for water activities, we'll have alternatives. And even if you did, you might want to explore the alternatives instead of extra swim time. I seem to recall Mr. Meadows leading us in a pretty crazy way to cool down last year,” I said, glancing towards Danny.

The exuberant rabbit fist-pumped. “Water Wars Two!!!” he screamed, and a number of campers cheered, while the new kids looked worried. What were they in for? I was pretty sure a massive water of super soakers, water balloons, and more would have everyone cool and in a good mood soon enough.

I chuckled, then gestured the room to settle down. “For now, we're going to push everything thirty minutes later to give us time to discuss. After dinner, everything should return to normal times. We'll still have campfire and the songcircle at eight, yes, Charlie?”

The raccoon smiled. “I hope so. Already got the marshmallows.”

I nodded. “After songcircle, there'll be free time until Lights Out. For those of you who got Gold Sparks last week, don't forget that tonight is the camp out on Mystery Island.” A few scattered claps and woos! “If you're feeling sore you don't get to go, then work towards next week's camp out. We have plenty of activities, and, if there's nothing you're interested in, talk to a Counselor about alternatives. Don't forget, Counselors can award a Gold Spark for anything from excelling at an activity to showing good sportsmanship to introducing your fellow campers to something from your home culture. Get involved, because sleeping out at the Tree Fort is a treat!” There were a few murmurs. Maybe some campers were getting ideas on how they could earn their Sparks for the next camp out.

“One last announcement. We always like to let campers settle in for the first week, which is why we call it Freestyle Week, but, after this, we'll have themes to the foods and activities, and here to tell you about next week is our activities coordinator, Felix. Go get 'em, Blaze!”

As Felix rose to the sounds of cheering and grinned, quieting them down and starting to give them the outline for the following week, “Circus Week,” I sat back down. “Water Wars, eh?” Lanky said with a grin. “As long as I don't have to clean up the water balloons shrapnel.” 

I chuckled. “Hey, if it keeps the kids cool, it'll be worth the clean-up effort. We can make a contest of it. Whoever fills a bucket with the trash gets $10.00 in the camp store or something.”

Lanky grinned and nodded. “Hey, that's why you're the Chief, Chief. You got all the ideas.”

After that, the campers dropped their plates and silverware at the washing window and then headed out to go start changing with the hot day and water activities in mind. The fact that it would likely mean boys bare-chested or in wet tank tops and shorts seemed like a happy side-effect, but I mostly just wanted my kids safe and healthy. Cookie and Frank came over, and we had our staff meeting while Cookie's assistants started washing dishes and cleaning up the meal. Frank's initial irritation over the prospect of cleaning up the balloon bits was easily mollified by my plan. Felix would coordinate with Danny to get the balloons and water guns filled, then would head to the Lake to help Lanky and Cisco with extra water activities. The campground was an easy ten minute walk across the road and through the woods to Willowgreen Lake, and we had a large private beach on the Lake. Most of the Campers were good enough swimmers to enjoy the water with only a lifeguard, but Lanky would provide swimming instructions in the shallow area for those who still weren't sure.

Cookie got my idea immediately. “I'll take the van to town to get popsicles we can have to give away, and I think we need more Gatorade.”

“Great,” I said, smiling. “Take the petty cash envelope and restock the camp store. Seems like a good day to open it up.” Then I fished out my wallet and pulled out a couple of bills. “And could you get me...”

Our illustrious chef laughed and waved it a way. “I'll get your usual, Chief. No payment required.”

I chuckled, sheepishly, and everyone grinned. “Thanks, Cookie. Tommy, can you go with him? And make sure we have plenty of band-aids and cool packs, just in case?”

“Read my mind, Chief,” Tommy said, standing to join the opossum as they headed off on their errand.

Charlie touched my arm, gently, as he slid over to sit next to me. “How you holding up, Chief?”

“I'm doing great,” I answered honestly. “I got a little wake-up from Carey, which is always welcome, and then Marty joined me in the shower. Very good day so far.”

He chuckled. “That Marty is a sweet kid. I think he's sweet on you, too.”

I nodded my agreement. “I noticed. I thought I might join the group over on Mystery Island tonight.”

Charlie chuckled. “Can't say as I blame you. I'll stay here, then. I had been waffling.” Although there was nothing official in place, Charlie often acted as my second-in-command. He had a chill and easygoing way about him that made him easy for the kids to talk to, and he really *got* the camp, I thought. When I wasn't available, I trusted Charlie to make decisions in my absence. I was planning to talk to Jimmy & Gary about making it official when they visited at the end of Week Two.

“You going to do color commentary on the Water War again?” I asked Charlie, and he grinned.

“I thought so. It makes me less of a target, and the kids seem to get a laugh out of it.” When Danny had run the event the previous year, Charlie had gone up into the “Crow's Nest” as we called the little room on top of the Mess Hall and used the P.A. System to offer commentary on the War as if it were a sports event. A lot of people had gotten nailed with water balloons because they were laughing at Charlie's remarks. I nodded and smiled, offering him a fist to bump. Charlie smiled back and didn't leave me hanging. We'd met as campers when he was brand new and I was a year away from Junior Counselor and become fast friends and something a bit more. I trusted Charlie implicitly. I might be the Chief of Summerflame, but Charlie was the Soul.

If I had worried about the overly hot day, our pivot and new plans went over great. Almost all the campers took advantage of the extra morning time at the Lake, the few who stayed behind enjoyed the extra craft class Charlie ran, making gimp bracelets in the cool of the Cozy Nook. Cookie came back and set up an amazing lunch of hot dogs and beans (which are a guilty pleasure, I must say). After lunch, almost everyone participated in Water Wars. Soon there were laughing and soaked campers everywhere, and even those not participating directly (the porch of the Mess Hall and the Mess Hall itself were strictly off-limits) cheered and laughed at the campers and counselors slipping and sliding around in the wet grass and the snide comments Charlie made over the P.A. There were a few injuries – I saw Tommy putting cold-compresses on a couple of ankles and bandages on some scrapes – but overall, it ended with a lot of laughing kids headed to clean-up at the showerhouse.

And yes, I got soaked. I made the mistake of stepping out to speak with Cisco about something, assuming my status would keep me safe, only to realize that, as the only completely dry person on the field – as Charlie so helpfully pointed out – I was suddenly a prime target. Water balloons came from campers, counselors, and staff, and I was soon soaked to the bone. I took it in good humor, grabbed a super soaker from Lanky and gave as good as I got. Heck, I'm a camper at heart, after all.

After that, the counselors and staff ran the clean-up effort, which was very successful thanks to the incentive. I headed back to my cabin, took a quick shower, and changed into dry clothes, then headed back out. I hadn't gone far when I heard a moan from behind my cabin. My instincts kicked in; had one of the boys slipped and fallen while hiding back there and hurt themselves? I hurried around the side and stopped in my tracks, a hand over my mouth to quiet my shocked laughing.

Lanky, Frank, and one of the newest senior counselors, a pretty athletic skunk named Reece Hart, were standing, facing each other in a triangle, mostly hidden from view by a stand of young pines. Each of the men had his shorts and underwear down around their thighs. Kneeling between them on a bed of old reddish pine needles, holding Lanky and Reece's cocks in his paws and sucking Frank, was Carey Winslow. They all looked up in a brief moment of alarm, then relaxed when they saw me. Carey had had his eyes closed, but he felt the moment of tension and looked, then popped off of Frank's dick with a slurp. “Hi, Mr. Burkessen!” he said, quietly but brightly. “Did you wanna join in?”

“Tempting,” I admitted, “but you already had one load from me today, young man.” I chuckled, shaking my head at the others. “Gentlemen, I of all people absolutely understand how persuasive young Mr. Winslow here can be, but perhaps a more discreet location would be better? Not all of our campers know about these special activities, and I would hate for someone to find out like this.” I gestured. “Go ahead and use my cabin for now. Just make sure you clean up.”

Frank grinned sheepishly. “My fault, Chief. Carey was actually helping me clean up some of the balloon bits back here, and we got...carried away. Then the others dropped by, and...” He trailed off, then shrugged with an apologetic, “Thanks for the loaner.”

I shook my head and headed back to the Mess Hall. Cookie had already opened the camp store, and I saw that Asili Juma, a normally fairly shy and quiet leopard who was here for his second year, had won the store credit. The camp store has camp souvenirs of course. You can buy t-shirts with photos of the Lake, postcards, baseball hats, magnets, and so on, but most everybody used the money they had saved at the store for sodas, candy, ice cream, and other snacks. I noticed Marty there, too, pondering his options, as I stepped to the end of the line.

“Hi, Mr. Burkessen,” he said, smiling up at me. “You gonna get something?”

“I will, but you guys get your stuff first. Cookie's got me covered for my usual.” I winked to our opossum chef, who winked back. A few campers chuckled, aware of my habit from years past.

Marty left his place the line and walked over to stand beside me at the end. “What's your usual?” he asked. “I can't decide.”

I smiled down at the cute boy. “Well, when I was a camper, my favorite counselor was a guy named Randy, and he introduced me to the wonder of the frozen Charleston Chew bar.”

Marty scrunched his nose up. “Really? I don't know anyone who gets those.”

I laughed and nodded. “I know. I never really liked them, but Randy did, and I ended up trying one. I don't think much of them normally, but I got in the habit of buying a frozen Charleston Chew at the camp store every time. And I still get them to this day.”

“Huh,” Marty said, looking at the list of frozen candy bars. “It's not even listed for sale.”

“I think I've been the only one who got one for ages, so we stopped carrying them, but Cookie makes sure he gets them for me on days when we open the store.”

“That's too bad,” Marty said with a little frown as we got to the head of the line. “I thought I might try one.”

I was about to let him take the one Cookie had grabbed for me, but Cookie saved the day. “Well, it so happens,” he said, producing two of them from the freezer, “that they were having a two for one sale at the store, so I grabbed an extra. I'll just charge you for a frozen Snickers, Marty.”

“How do you eat a frozen candy bar?” asked Marty, curiously. “I've never had one before.”

“Well,” I told him, “that's one reason why I like the Charleston Chew. Most frozen candy bars, you have to kind of gnaw the corner, but with the Chew, it's so long and thin that you can...” I grinned and *slapped* it hard against the metal freezer-top, shattering the frozen bar, turning it to shards in its package. Marty jumped, eyes wide, but I unwrapped it, showing him how it came out, and popped a chunk into my mouth. As it warmed, it got chewier, until I could eat it normally. Marty grinned and gave his own bar a good *whack*. Soon, we were walking out into the afternoon warmth, eating rapidly melting chocolate and marshmallow candy. Smiling down at him made me think of Randy smiling down at me, back all those years ago, and I felt a warmth in my heart, belly...and yes, groin. Randy had been my first, and you never forget that.

“Did you decide if you were going to come out to Mystery Island tonight?” Marty asked, bringing me back to the present. There was a hopeful sound in his voice, and, if I hadn't already decided, that would've made up my mind right there.

“Yes, I believe I will be going,” I told him, loving the bright warmth of his smile widening. “Charlie already told me he'd look after things while I'm away.”

“That's awesome,” he said, bouncing on his toes a little. “Sleeping away from the camp, with no electricity or stuff...that sounded a little scary at first, but if you're going to be there, I know I won't be afraid.”

I almost melted. This little guy was so sweet. “Well, you'd be surprised how brave you can be, Marty. I learned that here, a long, long time ago. Camp teaches you to do all kinds of new and exciting...and yeah, sometimes scary things. I hope this is the best summer ever for you.”

“Thanks, Mr. Burkessen.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he looked. “Oh, gosh! I gotta run! I gotta change for swimming! I'll see you later!” He waved, running off happily. Seeing that no one was glancing my way, I reached down, adjusted myself, and walked on.

As the afternoon wore on, I watched campers go to their various afternoon Lake activities. I checked in with Counselors and other staff. Tommy went over his plans for Circus Week with me, and it looked like it would be great, with everything from facepainting to classes on clowning, juggling, acrobatics, and the like. Cookie had pulled out the old cotton candy and popcorn machines, ready to offer themed snacks, and he had ideas for recipes like Clownhouse Chili, Three Ring Onion Rings, Corn Dogs, and the like. We had plans for a Circus-Themed Talent Show, as well as getting everyone tickets to an actual carnival and circus in Hadley for a field trip the following Thursday. Tommy was great at coming up with themes and activities that we could usually do on a budget.

Before I knew it, it was dinner time. Cookie and his team had made spaghetti with meatballs (both actual meat and veggie balls for the herbivore kids), garlic bread, and salad. For dessert, there was chocolate and yellow sheet cake squares on little plates, and everyone got the flavor the wanted. I ate with my staff, who told me how everything had gone for the day, and it seemed that, despite the weather, everything had gone great. After dinner, I took a walk around the camp, just making sure all was well. The temperature was easing off, but it was going to be a warm night. I heard Charlie tuning his guitar and doing a few practice songs. Danny, Lanky, Cisco, and Felix has organized a small game of soccer, and a number of campers were involved with that. Overall, the boys just seemed content. I saw Cookie's helpers, released after finishing cleaning up, coming out of the kitchen and headed to the shower building. I wanted to check in with Cookie and thank him for his help, but I noticed a small, furtive red-shirted form slip into the Mess Hall. I chuckled, knowing who it was, and quietly followed him in at a distance.

I could soon hear moans coming from the kitchen, and I crept over to the doorway. Sure enough, Carey Winslow was face down over Cookie's desk at the back of the kitchen area. Both Carey and Cookie were moaning, and I enjoyed watching Cookie's rotund backside moving as he fucked the little guy doggie-style. I stood there, watching for a bit, not wanting to interrupt. Cookie had been sweet on the little guy for a while now, and, while he was only Cookie's special friend one year, it seemed that he made sure the chef was happy. I chuckled, softly, but Cookie's ears perked, and he froze. “It's okay, Cookie. It's just me,” I assured him, and he relaxed.

“I almost had a heart attack, Chief, jeez...I figured no camper was going to be dumb enough to come back here during off-hours, but...” We made it very clear to all the campers that Cookie worked hard and was not to be disturbed in his kitchen office when the Mess Hall was closed. It was a good way to end up on K.P. Duty all summer, or even sent home.

“Don't let me stop you,” I said, with a grin, gesturing for them to continue. “I'm finding you in all kinds of situations today, Mr. Winslow,” I chuckled.

“Sorry, Mr. Burkessen!” he called. “I...mmmph!! I missed you all...a lot!! Just wanted to...hah!...show how much!”

Cookie held him down with his heavy belly, nuzzling the back of the bearcub's neck. “Yeah, you missed old Cookie and his nice big cock, huh, kiddo?”

Carey groaned, heavily. “Oh, I sure did, Cookie! Ohhhh...” I watched as Cookie's fat rolls rippled as his thrust, both of them making sweet music together in grunts, groans, and little slaps of hips on ass. Cookie was getting faster and rougher, and I grinned, hearing Carey moaning rhythmically, over and over, until Cookie finally arched his back, groaning hard, holding there, quivering. I could see his cum dripping down Carey's thighs and sac, then onto the floor.

“Looks like some more clean-up is going to be needed in the kitchen,” I chortled. “But somehow, I don't think either of you mind.”

“Nossir, Mr. Burkessen,” Carey said, panting. “I don't mind. Did you want a turn?”

I laughed. “You're insatiable...but I'm actually saving myself for later tonight.”

Carey turned back to look at me, smiling. “Aww, someone's gonna be a lucky boy tonight,” he said happily. “First timer?” Perceptive little guy. I nodded, and Carey smiled. “I'm guessing...Marty Liu?” Very perceptive little guy!

“Well, I guess Marty's interest is pretty obvious,” I chuckled.

“Only to someone who has eyes,” Carey laughed.

I laughed, too. “Alright, you two. Just make sure this place is clean. A health inspection would lead to some inconvenient questions.”

They both laughed as I headed back out. I went to my own office, looking over mail and bills. Nothing so important it couldn't wait until tomorrow. I ended up joining the group at the songcircle. Charlie's guitar playing always made me happy, and he led us in plenty of singing. Many marshmallows were toasted, and many s'mores were devoured. Afterwards, most campers headed to their cabins for free time and ultimately Lights Out. those of us heading to Mystery Lake, which included myself, Lanky, Reece, and the nine campers who'd gotten Golden Sparks, headed down to the Lake. We got into life jackets and took four canoes across. We listened to the chirps of the crickets, the calls of the loons, the hoots of owls, and the soft water noises as our paddles quietly traced ripples into the Lake's surface. Behind us, three V-shaped trails showed where we'd been. It was still warm, and the skies were dark and clear, as the Lake mirrored the stars below us.

To no one's shock, Marty had asked to be in the canoe with me, along with two other boys. The oldest of them was in the canoe's front position, paddling almost silently. I sat in the back, paddling as needed and steering. The trip across Willowgreen Lake isn't a terribly long one, and we were soon pulling up to Mystery Island. I used my paddle to help balance the canoe as the boys hopped out, then climbed carefully out myself. I'd already been soaked unexpectedly once that day, and I wasn't hoping for a second helping. Luckily, everyone got out fine, except a few damp toes, and we carried our packs and sleeping bags to the base of the Tree Fort. The Fort was built on a trio of large, sturdy oak trees, its frame an uneven triangle, and a rope ladder hung down from it. Reece went up first, unhooking the trapdoor and climbing up and in. We all followed up the rope ladder, then pulled it up and shut the trapdoor in the floor. Soon battery lanterns were hanging from hooks built into the rafters, and we enjoyed the clean, dry space, choosing spots to set up our sleeping bags and dragging over padded mats to make the wooden floor more comfortable for everyone. Screen windows could be covered with shutters, but Lanky had rowed out earlier in the day to open them to make sure there was air. Some light from the moon could be seen, but the area beyond the windows was otherwise pitch dark.

“Can I sleep near you, Mr. Burkessen?” Marty asked politely.

I gave him a warm smile. “Of course you can. We'll be sleeping bag buddies and share a mat to sleep on.” Lanky and Reece seemed to have their own sleeping bag buddies...Lanky had two actually, including his little brother Jake, one of our youngest campers. The other boys split into smaller groups, buddying up, and soon we were like little islands in the room. We stayed up for a while. A few ghost stories got told (because they always do) and a few crude and bawdy jokes did, too (because that's what happen when boys get together.) I told all the boys how proud I was of them being the first week's Golden Sparks, and I encouraged them to keep trying to earn the Sparks, but also to help their fellow campers earn them too.

All too soon, it was Lights Out. Reece slipped out of his sleeping bag, stripped down to his underwear, and turned off the battery lanterns, using one of them to find his way back to bed. You could hear little murmurs of conversation from the other little islands of men and boys, but it was soft and quiet. “Reece sleeps in his underwear?” Marty asked me, quietly. “Wow...I brought some pajamas. Do you sleep in your underwear?”

“Well,” I admitted, softly, “if I'm being honest, normally I don't sleep in anything at all.”

“Naked?” Marty said, sounding amazed. “Can you do that?”

I chuckled, softly. “Yes, you can. In fact, I think I'll do it right now.” I stripped in the dark, putting my clothes aside on my bag. “Do you need help getting your pajamas out?”

Marty hesitated, silently, then said, “It is really hot still. Do you think....*I* could sleep...without anything on?”

“I don't see why not,” I said. “No one will see you in the dark in your sleeping bag.” I heard him working on his clothes. When he seemed to have finished, I murmured, “And you're right. It is pretty warm. I think I'll leave my sleeping bag unzipped.” I let him hear me unzipping my sleeping bag, and I was rewarded with the sound of him unzipping his. I smiled in the dark and lay there for a while.

“Mr. Burkessen?” his little voice whispered from somewhere quite close by me in the darkness, “I really like you.”

“I really like you, too, Marty,” I told him quietly. I slipped out a hand and found his, giving it a little squeeze. “Do you want to get a little closer?” I felt his warm little body wriggle up until he was snuggling into my side. I put my arm around him, gathering him close, letting my hand end up on his hips, stroking gently.

“You make me feel really safe,” he said, his lips close to my ear. I turned my head and gently kissed his forehead, and he made a little sigh of contentment. So I leaned in and tried kissing his lips, very gently. I was very happy when I felt him clumsily but happily kissing back. He draped his arm onto my belly, softly, rubbing, and I lightly gave his bottom a squeeze, making him giggle in the dark. And then, as I suspected I might, I felt his little hand rub a bit lower. I moved very slightly, but it was enough to help nestle his fingers to the root of my shaft. I felt him freeze in uncertainty.

“It's okay, Marty,” I told him. “You can touch it.” Permission given, I began to feel his curious fingers exploring along my uncut manhood.

“It's so big,” he whispered. And he wasn't wrong. His secretive fumblings and kissing him had gotten me fully erect. “Can I...feel your balls, too?”

“Yes you may,” I assured him, and soon, I felt those little digits feel over my big orbs. They were heavy, even though Carey had emptied me out this morning. My want for this little one had gotten me quite ready again. “Have you ever touched one before?” I asked him, softly.

“Mine,” he said. “My brother's. He's a few years older than me. I've seen others...like at the YMCA for swimming lessons. But yours is so awesome, when I see it.”

I smiled, leaning in, kissing him again. I slid my hand around, finding his little shaft, which was quite hard as well. He gasped when I took it in my fingers, and I smothered his little groans into my chest fur as I stroked him, slowly. “Th-that's the best feeling ever,” he whispered, sounding almost frantic.

“Mmmm...I'm glad you like it, I murmured, but I bet I can show you something even better.” I slid down a bit, laying him back, and I felt him tense with a muted gasp when my tongue caressed his tip. I lowered my muzzle, taking him in, and he grabbed his pillow, quieting himself. Good boy, I thought. You get it. I began to softly bob, the tiny little twig so small and delicate feeling between my lips, but hard as a nail. I suckled and teased, and it didn't take long before he was panting heavily, thrusting at my mouth.

I decided to introduce a new idea to him without pressure. I slipped a hand below his balls and caressed a finger along his cleft. He spread his legs eagerly enough, and soon my fingertip was teasing lightly at that tight crinkle of virgin rosebud. He really began to thrust and thrash then...sensitive boy. And in no time, I heard him give a strangled yelp into his pillow. He thrust several more shuddering times, his cocklet twitching dryly against my tongue, and then he flopped still, panting like he'd just run a race. I took him into my arms, holding him, caressing his back and buttocks lightly. I rolled to my back, pillowing him on my chest and belly. When he could muster words, he whispered, “W-what was that?”

“Mmmm...never felt that before? Then I believe I just gave you your first orgasm. It's what happens to boys and men when the good feelings from their cocks build up and then release.”

“Wow...okay, th-that was the best feeling ever!” The moonlight from the window was showing just a little, since our eyes had adjusted, and I could just make him out in the dark, white teeth biting his lip. “It...it was sex stuff, huh?”

“It was,” I admitted. “Did your brother tell you about sex stuff?”

“Yeah. He wanted me to do some with him, but I was scared. But I wasn't scared to do it with you.” He grinned, shyly. “I'd...can we do some more? I really liked it.”

I smiled. “Good. I'm glad.” I hugged him close. “I meant it when I said I hope this is the best summer ever for you. Even if you didn't want to do this with me, I would want that.”

“But I do want to do it with you!” he said insistently. He realized that was a little too loud, and we both went quiet for a bit. From the sounds from the other parts of the room, we weren't the only ones doing “sex stuff.”

“That makes me happy,” I told him. “And yes, we can do more. Tonight and other nights. We have all summer, my buddy.” I gave him a squeeze. “I'll show you some things, and we can do what feels nice and not do anything you don't want to.” I kissed his forehead. “It's your summer.”

“I wanna do something...” he whispered, and I felt him wriggle down my body, until I could feel his warm breath on my shaft. I throbbed, excitedly, and then bit my lip as I felt his tiny little tongue begin to stroke around the base of my cock. He licked his way up to the tip, like my shaft was a melting ice cream cone. He was making quizzical noises, and I realized I was leaking, and he must be tasting my precum. For a moment, I wondered if he would pull away, but he seemed eager to continue. In fact he was soon trying to wrap his lips around my tip. I chuckled and began to murmur instructions to him...to be careful with his teeth, to nurse the tip...and to swallow when he could.

I won't say it was the most accomplished blowjob I've ever had, but he was enthusiastic and eager to learn. Soon, he was kneeling between my legs, both hands holding my shaft, bobbing his head over my thick crown, tongue slurping here and there. “That's perfect,” I told him with a soft groan. “You're doing so well!” He moves faster, and I felt my balls drawing up. “M-Marty...you might want to pull off. I'm gonna cum...it might be too much for you...”

I should've known better. Little boys don't like to be told they can't handle something. He just redoubled his efforts, and he slurped up and down faster. I covered my own mouth to muffle my panting, putting my other hand on his shoulder, ready to push him back if he seemed to be trying to take too much. When I came, he pulled off quick enough, with a little gasp, as he realized that grown-ups make cum in a way little boys don't! “Keep stroking,” I panted, hoarsely. He obeyed, moving his hands, eyes wide in the dark as my cum, almost luminous in the faint moonlight, spilled out. I shuddered a few times, a few more dregs leaking out, and then I flopped still. “Ohhh, Marty,” I whispered. “That really was awesome. Thank you, little buddy.”

He was quiet, and I wondered if I made a mistake, until he asked, “Is it okay to taste it?”

I smiled in the dark, but I knew he could see me. “Sure is. Some boys love it,” I said, thinking of Carey dutifully swallowing it all this morning. I watched his small head lean down and his pink tongue dart out to taste it. He looked thoughtful and then resumed licking, cleaning me up. “Ohh, honey. You can have as much as you want.”

It turned out as much as he wanted was all of it. “Maybe I can just swallow it next time, since I'll be expecting it,” he whispered brightly. The fact that he was already thinking of next time made me very happy.

“If you want to try. And there are other things we can do.”

“Like putting it in my bum?” he asked, curiously.

I chuckled. “More from your brother?” I asked, and he nodded. “Well, that's probably something we'll have to take some time to do. It can hurt when one guy is so much bigger than the other, and I would rather die than hurt you.”

“Okay,” he said. He snuggled in, and I wrapped my arms around him. “I hope we can, though,” he said, softly. “If I'm too small this summer, maybe next summer!”

I smiled. This is why I love working with boys. When they realize what they can do, it's like everything opens up to them. A whole new world. “Maybe,” I said. “But who knows? We have seven more weeks of this summer. Let's enjoy that first.”

“Okay,” he said again, in agreement. After a while, he murmured sleepily, “Thank you, Mr. Burkessen. I'm glad we're sleeping bag buddies.”

I petted his back. “Me too, Marty. Me too.” But he was fast asleep.