A gay story: Camp Counselors Pt. 01 (Note: this story is focused on gay sex, but there is some straight sex in it.)
During my teenage years I worked summers as a counselor at sleepaway camps. I liked the job a lot; the work wasn’t hard but it paid decently, and I got to hang around with a lot of horny female counselors. I lost my virginity one summer to one of the older girls, and after that enjoyed several summertime romances.
So when I got offered a great job after my sophomore year in college — head counselor at a moderately posh lakefront camp in the Berkshires — I readily agreed. The pay was much better than at other places I’d worked, and I figured I’d be able to save money while getting laid occasionally.
The counselors’ summer started in early June, a week before the campers were due to show up. There were about 30 of us on the staff, mostly college kids, with a handful of high-school seniors. It was our job that first week to open and air out the cabins, get the canoes and rowboats out of storage, set up buoys around the swimming area and so forth. The early start also gave us counselors some time to get acquainted with each other.
One of the best parts of working at this particular camp was that the counselors got to live in four-person cottages instead of one big cabin. The cottages were pretty basic — just two beds, a single chest and a bathroom with a shower — but they were cleaner and quieter than what I had been used to.
The guys’ cottages — along with the larger cabins the campers lived in — lined the shore of a heavily wooded cove on the eastern side of the lake, while the girls’ area bordered another cove on the west side. All the other camp buildings, including the administration and maintenance buildings and the dining hall, occupied the south shore between these two areas.
We got our cabin assignments at the counselors’ meeting on the first day. I lucked out: Because I was head counselor, I was given just one cabin-mate instead of three. This turned out to be a tall, athletic-looking guy from UNC named Brian.
Brian and I hit it off immediately: He was smart but low-key, with a matter-of-fact attitude and a dry sense of humor. He turned out to be a good roommate, too — not too loud or too messy, and tolerant of my embarrassing tendency to snore.
Brian was also good-looking and in excellent physical shape, and I might have been a little jealous of him. But he was not the type to flaunt his good looks, and there was nothing stuck-up about him.
One thing we had in common was an eye for attractive women, of whom we met several that first week. I sensed a mutual attraction with one of the best-looking, a petite brunette named Amy, and Brian seemed smitten with one of her cabin-mates, a willowy blonde named Claire.
Both Amy and Claire had worked at the camp the year before. As we got to know them, they let us in on a few handy secrets about the place, like which of the full-time employees would sell you a little weed or bring you a bottle of liquor from town. It turned out, too, that the girls also knew the location of a great place for skinny-dipping, though we didn’t find this out right away.
At the end of the first week — the Saturday night before the campers were due to arrive — the counselors threw a party. Strictly speaking such parties were not authorized, but the camp directors weren’t stupid and they knew we had to blow off steam once in a while. As long as we were reasonably discreet — not appearing drunk in front of the campers, for example — they looked the other way.
The party was held in a pavilion on the lakeshore near the guys’ cottage area. It was a low-key affair, partly because we all had to get up early the next day, and it broke up early when a sudden wind suggested a storm was coming. For a while I thought Brian and I might be able to coax Amy and Claire back to our cottage, but they peeled away before we could make our moves.
“Bummer,” I said as we headed back to our cabin. “I’d hoped to start off the summer with a good fuck.”
Brian laughed but didn’t say anything.
It wasn’t all that funny to me. I had a bad case of blue balls and was hoping I’d get a chance to jack off before bed.
But before I recount what happened when we got back to the cabin, I should say a further word about sex in a camp setting. (Just to be clear, I’m talking about the counselors only.)
Like I said, I’d enjoyed a fair amount of sex with female counselors over the years, but I don’t want you to get the idea counselors were fucking each other all the time. For most of them sex was an occasional thing, if it happened at all; I’m sure there was a lot more sexual frustration than fulfillment. In that sense, camp was very much like the rest of the world.
Which meant, naturally, that there was a whole lot of masturbation going on.
I can’t say a lot about how this played out among the female counselors, but among the men it was a constant, if seldom-discussed, part of camp life. Guys would beat off any time and any place they felt unlikely to get caught — though plenty of them got caught anyway. It’s a fair bet that every male counselor has caught another guy doing it at least once, and been caught at least once himself. (That goes for me, too.)
Now back to that first Saturday night.
As we got to our cottage Brian announced that he was going to take a shower. I was relieved, because I’d already realized he took longish showers and I’d formed a habit of jacking off while he was in there. (Bonus: I could watch myself in the full-length mirror on the outside of the bathroom door.)
Once we got inside, Brian got his towel and some clean boxers to change into and went into the bathroom. I flopped on my bed and — once I heard the water turn on — slipped off my shorts and took hold of my rapidly hardening johnson.
Just as I was starting to stroke a gust of wind came through the open window and blew the bathroom door inward. Evidently Brian hadn’t closed it tightly.
It took me a moment to realize that the full-length mirror was now angled so that I could see into the bathroom. Brian was standing there naked, his eyes closed and his hand on his erect cock.
I froze, my hand still gripping my own rock-hard cock.
In the split second before I could cover up, Brian opened his eyes.
I held still, watching as his eyes took in the sight of my hand on my dick. Then he looked up.
Our eyes met.
Neither of us said anything.
Finally, after a long, agonizing moment, Brian reached up with his free hand and closed the bathroom door.
My cock was so hard it hurt. I started stroking again, fast. In my mind’s eye I saw Brian doing the same on the other side of the door — a surprisingly exciting thought — and in barely a minute I spewed cum all over my stomach and chest.
I lay there a moment, letting my heartbeat slow and my breathing return to normal, before wiping myself off with a dirty T-shirt.
As I did, my mind was a whirl of confused thoughts.
Like I said, catching guys masturbating at camp was hardly unusual.
More than once, for example, I’d walked into what I thought was an empty cabin, only to find some guy whacking off in his bunk. In such cases I’d either back away, giving him time to finish if I had time for waiting, or make some kind of warning noise if I didn’t.
I’d also been caught a couple of times myself. The most embarrassing incident had occurred the year before when an older counselor walked into the communal shower just as I was spilling cum onto the floor. He just shook his head and said nothing.
Never, however, had things happened as they just had with Brian. We had in effect caught each other.
It would be funny, I thought, if not for one thing: I had been more than a little turned on by the sight of Brian’s hand on his cock.
This was a new and unexpected feeling for me.
Like all guys I’ve looked now and then at other guys’ dicks in the gym, but I’ve never felt any sexual excitement as a result. And on those occasions when I’d caught guys actually masturbating, I’d never made a big deal of it.
I should add, in case you’re wondering, that I’ve never been interested in actual sex with a guy.
Still, what had happened in the last 15 minutes felt different somehow.
For one thing, I couldn’t get the sight of Brian’s cock out of my mind afterward. I’d seen only glimpses of it in the few days we’d lived together, and hadn’t realized until now just how big it was: His erection had to be at least eight inches long, and pretty thick, too.
Not that I’m a slouch in the dick department. My dick is just under seven inches long when erect, and is even thicker than Brian’s; I’d actually had two girls tell me it was hard for them to get their mouths around it.
With a start I realized I was getting another erection — and that I no longer heard the sound of running water. I quickly slipped on the boxers and T-shirt I normally sleep in and got back into bed.
A few moments later the bathroom door opened and Brian came out, wearing the boxers. He didn’t look at me as fished a T-shirt out of the chest and made his way to his bunk.
The atmosphere in the room was off somehow. I tried to break the ice.
“That was awkward,” I said, trying to inject some humor into my voice.
“I’ll say,” Brian said as he lay down, still without looking at me.
Another long silence. Evidently he didn’t want to pursue the subject.
Finally I reached up to turn off the light.
“Well, good night,” I said.
” ‘Night.”
I think it was a long time before either one of us got to sleep.
***
The wind was pretty strong overnight but the storm brought little rain and was gone by morning.
Both Brian and I slept late; we just managed to get to the dining hall before they stopped serving breakfast. Although we sat together to eat he had almost nothing to say, and after a couple of attempts to start a normal conversation I decided to confront the elephant in the room.
“So,” I said, trying to sound natural, “did you finish last night?”
Brian didn’t look up but I could see he was blushing.
“Yeah,” he finally said.
After a pause I said, “Relax, OK? All guys our age jack off a lot; it comes with the territory. We just happened to catch each other doing it. We don’t need to feel weird about it.”
He took a deep breath.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said.
“It’s actually kind of funny when you think about it,” I said. “Two guys having a stare-down with their dicks in their hands. Sort of like the ‘Cockfight at the OK Corral.’ ”
That made him laugh, and the tension dissipated a little.
He looked around briefly, like he was making sure no one could hear, and said, “Actually, I thought it was kind of hot.”
I wasn’t totally surprised by this, given that I’d been a little turned on myself, but I thought he was brave to say it so plainly.
“Yeah,” I managed to say.
He cleared his throat and looked around once more.
“Have you ever jacked off with another guy for real?”
“No, never,” I said. “You?”
“No, but….”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
“But what?” I asked.
He gave me a look that took me a few seconds to decipher.
“Wait,” I said. “You want to try it?”
“Why not?” he said. “We’re both going to be doing it all the time anyway; why not take the awkwardness totally out of it?”
“You serious?”
“Sure,” he said, although he sounded less sure now than when he’d first mentioned it.
“Sounds kind of gay,” I said.
“Gay would be jacking each other off,” he said. “I’m not suggesting that.”
I wasn’t sure I saw the distinction he was making, and I guess he saw the doubt in my face.
“Never mind,” he said, blushing. “Forget I mentioned it.”
But now that he’d planted the idea in my head, I had to admit it excited me.
“I’m not saying no,” I said. “Lemme think about it.”
“Okay, sure,” he said, and we got up to leave.
After breakfast the counselors gathered to get assignments for a few last-minute jobs that needed doing before the campers started arriving at noon.
We were so busy that day — welcoming campers, reassuring parents, giving tours, helping everyone get settled in their cabins — that there was little time to think about anything else.
Even so, I couldn’t quite put Brian’s proposition out of my mind. Nor could I stop replaying the events of the night before in my head.
Every time I pictured him jacking that big cock of his, my own dick started twitching. A couple of times I got an actual boner. Luckily my camp T-shirt was long and roomy enough to hide the bulge.
Not until well after dinner did the camp finally begin to settle down. It was my job as head counselor to do bed checks the first night, visiting all the boys’ cabins to make sure everyone was inside, in bed and more or less quieted down.
When everything seemed secure I walked down to the lake and sat down on a bench overlooking the water. It was a beautiful night, quiet except for occasional shouts or laughter coming from one of the cabins.
I had hoped to run into Amy or one of the female counselors, if only to have someone to talk to besides noisy boys, but no one was around.
I sat down on the bench and stared at the water. Soon I got to thinking about Brian’s proposal again.
The mere thought of jacking off with him gave me a boner.
This was surprising, because to this point my sex life had been totally straight.
Yes, I knew that straight guys occasionally jerk together, but I’d never felt that particular urge. So why did I feel it now?
Was it something about Brian specifically that turned me on?
Sure, he was what most people, male or female, would consider attractive; good looks, nice physique, engaging personality. But I’d known lots of other guys who fit that description, and I hadn’t considered jacking off with them.
Yes, I know that finding someone attractive isn’t a matter of checking boxes. There’s some mysterious chemistry involved, and sometimes the best part of the experience is the surprise you feel at an unexpected connection.
Did Brian and I have a “connection,” and if so, what sort?
I don’t know how long I sat on the bench, mulling this over, but eventually I decided I was overthinking things.
There was no doubt, in my own mind at least, that jacking off with another guy counted as a gay encounter.
But so what?
I’d always been one of those people who made a point of saying that what two adults did in private was nobody’s business but theirs. Didn’t that apply to me as well?
And then there was my boner. My mind might be full of doubts, but my dick knew exactly what it wanted.
I took a deep breath and stood up.
“New horizons,” I said aloud, and headed back to our cottage.
When I got back Brian was stretched out on his bunk reading, or pretending to. He glanced up and nodded hello.
I looked at his crotch. His hardon was obvious.
I looked down at my own bulge, looked up again and said:
“So, how should we do this?”
Brian put down his book and sat up.
“For real?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He stood up, smiling.
“First, I guess we should cover the windows.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
Our cabin had no window blinds, so we hung towels and sheets over them as best we could.
An awkward moment followed. Neither of us seemed to know how to get started.
Brian looked at me questioningly and I nodded.
We took off our shirts.
I have to admit: I liked what I saw.
Brian wasn’t what I could call ripped, but he was definitely toned, with a perfectly flat stomach and decent pecs. Light brown hair covered his chest and trailed down to his beltline. His nipples were erect.
He dropped his shirt on his bed and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts. I did the same. Next thing I know we were pulling them down, then standing there naked, looking at each other’s hard cocks.
Brian’s, as I’ve said, was a good eight inches long and pretty thick. The head was a purplish color and perfectly proportioned, the corona flaring back gracefully from the tip. The skin of his shaft was slightly darker than that of his body, and the ridge on the underside stood out prominently. His balls hung low and swung when he moved. He obviously shaved his sack and trimmed everywhere else.
My cock wasn’t quite so impressive, in my mind at least.
I’m almost seven inches long when hard, as I’ve said, and my thick shaft bends slightly to the left. My ball sack is a little tighter, too. My pubic hair grows more thinly than most guys’ does and I’ve never shaved it.
“Nice,” Brian said.
It felt weird, being complimented by a guy on my cock, but there you go.
“Yours, too,” I said.
I propped a pillow against the headboard of my bed and sat down against it.
Brian arranged himself at the foot of his bed so that he was facing me.
So there we were, two horny college guys with our stiff dicks in our hands.
For me at least, it felt like we were crossing a line, breaking a taboo.
I was very turned on, though.
“Okay, go,” he said.
My first impulse was to hurry, but Brian started stroking slowly, so I slowed my pace to match his.
He used his left hand, moving from the bottom of the shaft to the head, where we would squeeze lightly before moving back down. At first he used his other hand to cup his balls, but from time to time he moved it up to his chest, where he would stroke and pinch each nipple in turn. Each time he gasped a little, like his nipples were extremely sensitive. I don’t know why but watching him do that made my cock pulse with excitement.
I stroked with my right hand, up and down at the same pace, squeezing the shaft at the bottom of every down stroke.
I had gotten in the habit in recent years of using a finger to stroke the seam of skin along the underside of my balls. Brian watched intently as I did so.
But what really caught his interest was when I moved my free hand to my mouth, moistened a finger and moved it back down to massage my hole.
I had been doing this ever since a girlfriend had played with me back there a few times. I had even experimented with finger-fucking myself, and though I found it awkward I sensed there were more pleasures to be had if I could learn the right techniques — or find the right partner.
Now, however, I limited myself to spreading my legs enough for Brian to see what I was doing. I could tell he was fascinated.
Clearly we had things we could teach each other.
In our excited state it didn’t take long for us to cum. When I heard Brian start to gasp and groan I knew he was close, and I speeded up my stroking to catch up with him.
“About to cum,” he said.
“Me, too.”
Moments later he let out a low moan, gave a convulsive jerk and shot a huge wad of cum straight into the air. It plopped back on his pubes.
He shot once more before I started cumming myself. My first shot didn’t go as far as his but it was much bigger, a huge gob of semen that coated my hand and the head of my cock.
After that everything was kind of a blur. I came so hard it felt like my eyes rolled back in their sockets. I couldn’t focus on Brian but I could hear him moaning.
When it was finally over we looked at each other, more stunned than anything. Brian had big puddles of cum on his chest and stomach and a drop on his chin. I must have looked just as big a mess.
The intensity of the experience had been so great that neither one of us knew what to say.
“Wow, dude,” he said. “That was incredible.”
When I could finally form words to answer him, I said, “Smells like cum in here.”
“Why not?” he asked. “There must be a gallon of it on us.”
He reached up, took a small towel from a hook on the wall behind him and began wiping himself off. Meanwhile I grabbed the same dirty T-shirt I’d used for a cum rag the night before.
After a moment he stood up and strode naked into the bathroom, where I heard him taking a piss and brushing his teeth. When he came back out he was still naked. His dick had shrunk a little but not much, and it wasn’t quite flaccid when he pulled on his boxers for bed.
I went into the bathroom to do my own business. When I came back out, still naked, Brain was in bed with his book. He took a long look at my cock, then looked up at me.
“Told you that would be fun,” he said.
“I don’t recall you putting it that way exactly.”
“Well, I was thinking it.”
“Okay, have it your way,” I said, smiling. “You were right.”
I was still standing there in the space between our beds.
Brian was looking at my cock again. His eyes seemed drawn to it.
Finally, though, he tore them away and began looking at his book.
Nothing more was said for about half an hour, when he said goodnight and turned out the light.
***
The next morning, a Monday, was a busy one. It was the first day of regular camp activities, and there’s always a lot of confusion while a couple hundred kids figure out where they’re supposed to be and when. It would take two or three more days for a routine to establish itself.
As head counselor it was my job to help lessen this confusion, as well as to reassure the more timid or homesick kids. It kept me busy, but not busy enough to keep from thinking about the masturbation session with Brian.
On the one hand, I felt uncomfortable, as a straight guy, doing something that felt so obviously “gay.”
But on the other hand, it was very exciting, and I got a woody every time I thought of it.
Which is why, once we got settled in our cabin that night, I readily agreed when Brian asked if I wanted to have another go.
This time we took things more slowly. I found I could not take my eyes off that big cock of his; just seeing it seemed to increase my own arousal.
Maybe that’s why, when I played with my hole as usual, I decided to give Brian a bit of a show. I slid down on the pillows and spread my legs so that my ass was more exposed to him, and stuck my finger in deeper than I had that first night.
Brian was so mesmerized that he actually stopped wanking to stare at me.
“Does that feel good?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Absolutely.”
With that he moistened his own finger, spread his legs apart and gave it a try.
At first he winced at the unfamiliar feeling, but after circling a finger around the pink hole a few times slowly he got bolder and worked it inside. I wish I had a video of the look on his face as it changed from one that expressed surprise and discomfort to one that expressed surprise and delight.
I didn’t come as hard that second night as on the first, but it was still a pretty amazing experience.
Over the next few days, as the camp settled into a routine, Brian and I did the same.
After lights out we’d spent an hour or so in the counselors’ “lounge,” a room in the main camp building with a Coke machine, table games, a ping-pong table and a decent-sized TV with a huge array of movies on DVD. It was the only place in the camp you could get wifi, and a lot of counselors spent their evenings parked on one of the ratty old sofas, glued to their phones.
I spent most of my time chatting up the women, especially Amy, the petite brunette I mentioned earlier, but she seemed more amused by my interest than actually sharing it. Brian paid court to Claire, and seemed to be making more progress than I was with Amy.
On leaving the lounge Brian and I would go back to our cabin, hang towels over the windows, strip naked and start masturbating. A couple of nights we actually went twice. Sometimes it seemed like the cabin was permeated with the bleachy smell of semen.
On Friday of that first week one of the other male counselors asked us to join their nightly poker game. I readily agreed, but Brian gave me a hurt look, like I’d stood him up for a date. I guess I had, in a way, but I needed a break.
Brian left the game about 1 a.m., but I was winning — in a low-stakes fashion — and ended up staying till 3. When I got back to the cabin Brian was sound asleep.
That night — a Saturday — my flirting with Amy finally paid off.
After we’d been at the lounge an hour or so, she and Claire exchanged what must have been some prearranged signal. Amy leaned over to me and said, “You guys up for a late-night swim?”
“Sure,” I said. “Let us run back to the cabin for our suits.”
“You won’t need them,” she said archly.
“Well, okay then!” I said.
To say I was pleasantly surprised vastly understates the case.
The four of us slipped out of the lounge and onto the moonlit grass in front of the dining hall.
“This way,” Amy said.
She led us along a path that skirted the buildings on the girls’ side of camp and then followed the shore into a deep cove. After about 15 minutes walking we came to a spot where a huge boulder stood at the water’s edge. On the other side of the boulder was a smaller cove that was sheltered on three sides by thick woods. Hidden next to the boulder was a small sand beach.
Here Amy reached into a shirt pocket and pulled out a slim hand-rolled cigarette.
“This’ll get us in the mood,” she said.
We sat down on the sand, lit the joint and passed it back and forth. It must have been potent stuff; after three puffs I was flying.
When the joint was gone Amy and Claire stood up, again as if by prearranged signal, and stripped off their clothes. For a moment they stood in the moonlight, letting us enjoy the view of their naked bodies, then waded into the water.
Brian and I looked at each other. In 10 seconds we were both naked, too, and striding into the water with growing erections.
I won’t go into further details of what happened that night, except to say that both Brian and I got good and laid. Amy turned out to be more enthusiastic about sex than her cool demeanor suggested, and I felt amply compensated for the effort of flirting with her all week.
Once we’d walked the girls back to their cabin and kissed them goodnight, Brian and I headed back to our cabin. He was chatty, but I didn’t say much.
I was thinking, of course, about Amy’s wonderful body and when I might see her again. I had the impression we might become a couple for the summer.
But underneath this I felt a wave of relief that, despite what Brian and I had been doing all week, I was still attracted to and excited by women. Could it be that I was attracted to both sexes?
It dawned on me that sexual attraction and sexual practice were more complicated than I’d always thought.
Back at the cabin Brian asked, “Had enough tonight?”
“Yeah, I’m ready for bed,” I said.
Ten minutes later I was lying in the dark, my mind busy with alternating visions of Amy’s pert little breasts and Brian’s big hard cock.
Oddly enough, however, I didn’t feel conflicted. Instead, I felt like the world was opening up to me in a way I hadn’t expected.