Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/camping/canvas-hell/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between young-adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
Nate turned to him and frowned, "And what do you want me to tell them if they ask me the same question?" Jim dropped his eyes in embarrassment and apologized quickly. In the distance, we heard the single clank that announced we had fifteen minutes to make it to the next session, which for all of us, including Trey, was archery. "Come on, guys." Nate summed up, "Let's see who loses a finger today." I fell into step wondering quietly, why wasn't I as smart as Jim and Nate when I was 14 or 15? Hell, why wasn't I as smart now? A tiny voice echoed in the back of my head, 'Yet another 'why' there, sport.'
Canvas Hell 29: The World Outside
By Bear Pup
T/T; self-discovery - Tuesday PM
Archery proved anticlimactic. Apparently, all the guys who were utterly unable to grasp the idea, 'hold the bow, release the string', had dropped out. Jim was coming into his own, finally finding that the power of Karl's arms didn't really help as much as his own steady grip and great aim. He was clearly the best of the five that now made up our group. He actually hit the first rank of targets with six out of ten arrows, and tied the best on the second row with one out of five.
Trey (again sloughing the Orson albatross) was still a little shell-shocked, and Nate made that his mission. Any time he saw his buddy start to frown or pucker his face considering Jim or me, Nate would jump in with a joke or a cajole that snapped Trey out of it.
Nate and Trey both had swimming, but on a different schedule and they were bummed. Both had a Free Period next. We convinced them to grab their trunks anyway. When we got to the dock, I asked Sea (blushing furiously, of course) if they could switch. He looked at me a moment then smiled, "For you, Red, no problem." The level of awe and hero-worship in their faces when they heard that almost made me crawl under a rock!
The three youngsters joined the swimmers and Karl and I geared up for lifeguard duty. All thoughts of other matters vanished when Sea announced that today, the eight of us would be the primary lifeguards. After our warm-up swim, the Leaders would do nothing other than monitor and intervene if we screwed up, "and you have damned well better NOT screw up, men!"
Oddly, knowing that three of the people we might be watching over were Jim, Nate and Trey damned near killed me and almost got me seriously busted. On his first round, I had been distracted checking on Nate and Trey who were not in our section at the time when Sea barked for a count. I gave it and he growled, "You said seven. I see six! Where is Mr Seven!"
I stood in slack-jawed shock realizing that I didn't know when Karl spoke, "He's trying to torpedo the blond kid, just there. Looks like he got 'em down but not off if I had to guess." The blond, probably 16, he'd pointed to had just squawked and come half out of the water, both hands around his middle, clearly trying to get his suit back up. A brown-haired boy, younger certainly and likely in the 13/14 range surfaced laughing and got a nasty word from the leader of their group. He returned, abashed (more at being busted than for the act), to the group activity as Sea grunted and moved on.
"Oh, God, thank you Karl!"
"It was luck," he whispered, "I had just glanced back from making sure Jim was safe and saw the kid dive. If Sea had asked what the torpedo kid looked like, I would have been done for -- all I saw was the dive wake!" His voice trembled a bit, and we both vowed to keep our heads in this game, reducing (but unable to eliminate) checks on our young friends.
We both breathed a sigh of relief when the day ended. Jim, Nate and Trey joined us as we trooped to the showers. Nate gave Trey a frankly fierce and intimidating scowl when it looked like Trey was going to try and duck out of showering with me and Jim. I was appalled, frankly, but just followed Karl's lead as he acted as if nothing in the world was different. Damn, I wished I could have even pretended the calm confidence my friend constantly displayed.
We showered, me back to memorizing the wall and ceiling, mortified at the thought I might accidently look in Trey's direction and leave him thinking I was perving on him. Jim decided to walk back to Cabin 4 with his age-mates and Karl and I wandered to Tent Canvas Hell.
"So, you think Trey will be okay with all this?"
Karl thought as we sat inside the open tent, looking out at the beautiful afternoon. "Probably. But that's not the question."
"Huh?"
"Camp ends. You and Jim go back to Hershey. What then? You're a senior like I am, right? He's a Freshman. Hershey a three or a four?" At the time, education was changing. Some districts had six years of grade school, three of junior high and three of senior high. Others even split the first six into elementary and grade schools, for four sets overall. Hershey had recently changes to four-four-four, elementary, middle and high school.
"We're a four, so he'll be in the school at least."
"How many seniors at Hershey are pals with a freshman? A freshman boy?"
I let that sit, unanswered. I had already sworn to myself that I would defy the gods themselves to hold on to what I had with Jim, but a quote popped up even as I thought those words. I cursed the fact of how much I read then. The quote stuck because one of my favorite books, 'The Gods Themselves' by Isaac Asimov, took its name from it: "Against stupidity the gods themselves contend in vain."
Trey really liked us, trusted us, looked up to us. Even with all that, his ignorance (the twin sister of stupidity) meant he was ready to condemn us and fear us when he found out. He honestly thought I would hurt him or molest him. He was even afraid to shower if I was in the room!
Dear God, what would it be like in Hershey, with the friends that knew me as, well, me? I come back from summer camp with a tan and a, a what? A freshman kid that I can't stop staring at and mooning over? What would they call him? My, what, my boyfriend?
And how could I -- a wimpy praying mantis named Patrick Kennedy of the radioactive freckles and the neon blush -- what could I do to protect him? I was knowingly putting a giant target on the back of the person who, at that moment, was the most valuable thing in my universe. When I sensed Jim come back, I was a quivering mass of tension. I heard Karl whisper, "I, um, well, I think I might have broken him again. I'll, uh, see you at dinner, okay?"
"No! Not Okay! What did you say?" Jim's voice was also a whisper but with a unique intensity.
"Really, I didn't mean anything," Karl was pleading, "I just asked if many Hershey seniors at are pals with freshman guys and what happens when you get back there?"
"Aw, hell. Oh, Karl. Okay. Just... just go."
I felt Jim come into the tent as Karl's footsteps retreated at speed. He flipped the flaps shut and I snorted as one hit me straight in the face since I'd been sitting right at the entrance. I felt him pull me backwards into his chest. He just... held me. It took a minute, but that alone brought me back to myself.
"Oh, God, Jim. What have I gotten you into? What have I done to you? OUCH!" The smack to the side of my head from behind shocked me. "That HURT, Jim."
"So did what you said, jackass."
I was rubbing the side of my noggin. He hit hard! I mean hard. "But what do you want me to do Jim? I can't, you know, put you out there to get beat up -- OW! FUCK! STOP THAT!" I now had whacks to both sides, and this one was even harder. I pulled forward and turned to find Jim crying, shoulders twitching with his tears.
Everything else vanished. I pulled him into me, his small frame curled where my entire soul wanted him to stay forever, head over my heart and body in my arms. He didn't look up, "You're a fucking bastard, you know that! Every time, every goddamned time that things seem to be okay, you freak out. And if you whine about protecting me from anything, I will kick you in nuts so hard you be cumming through your nostrils from then on."
"Jim, I'm sorry. But, um, that doesn't really solve anything. You're starting at HHS this year. I'm leaving it at the end. We won't have a single class together. And we won't be in the same clubs or anything!"
"That's right, but at least we have a few evenings a week and maybe some weekends. You know what worries me more? I've got a little over a year before the person I need more than food and water goes away to college. What do I do then?"
I sat, undone. While I was worried about September, Jim was planning our lives. It changed... everything. Camp? So what, I had Jim. High school kids? So what. I had Jim. College? So what, I had Jim. "Oh, Jim. Oh, God, Jim. I am the luckiest person in the world."
He did raise his leaky, red-rimmed eyes to me then. "And don't you forget it, you fucking bastard." He half smiled as I curled myself around his form, like a dragon curling around his... mate. The word-image called to me, two dragons against the world.
The clang of the triangle called us out of our cuddle and we uncurled and stretched. Note to self: Dragons must have very different spines. I felt like I was sixty. It took me forever even to stand up straight, and that was with lots of moaning and cursing. Jim, of course, popped up all lively and spry and called me 'old man' about twelve times. Asshole.
Dinner was a predictably-sad affair, but at least this time it wasn't the company, just the food. I mean, seriously, beef stew is meat, veggies and brown gravy mix. How do you screw that up? Apparently with a few pounds of celery salt and garlic powder, at a guess. We discussed starting a food fight with the rolls, but decided that George and the Doc probably couldn't handle that many concussions. Trey cut himself trying to split one half. Smart little Nate let one sit in his stew for a while and managed to get inside without injury, only to report that the innards were as unappetizing as the shell.
The singing that night was... profound in several ways. Trey was still reserved, unsure, unsettled, but his deep voice held without cracking. Nate and Jim both had sweet, high voices, Jim's a mature high-tenor and Nate still had a hint of boyish treble, but the tone he'd have for adulthood was clearly a sweet tenor of one stripe or another.
The song, 'Down in the River to Pray', was simple, powerful and very much a hymn of introspection. I now know that its roots were in the fields of slavery, and like many such songs was also a message of escape. Slaves would go 'in the river' to evade the hounds. The 'starry crown' (Corona Borealis) in the sky helped navigate northward (its arms pointed to Polaris) in the summer months, as well as being used as a symbol on certain landmarks to indicate safe passage. The alternate 'robe and crown' probably also held meaning, but it's unknown today.
At the time, though, all I knew was that the cadence, the words and the tones clamed me, brought me peace and security, and the voices around me felt like a warm hug. Without question, it was the most beautiful thing I was ever part of. When the practice broke, the Leaders were almost giddy. Only two days in and we already sounded good. The simple lyrics and harmonies were like they were written for us, our group of 24 boys.
Afterwards, Nate and Trey decided to walk with us which surprised me no end. We settled within sight of the Fire Ring but well out of earshot. Nate turned to Trey with a look I'd seen in Jim's face before, "You had something to tell them, Trey?"
He hung his head and looked up at me and Jim through thick lashes and thin bangs. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. You are good guys and the, um, other thing is..." he glanced at Nate who simply scowled, "uh, none of anybody's business." He looked for Nate's approval and Nate nodded seriously. "Oh, and I didn't tell anybody."
"Thank you, Trey." Jim said softly. "Everyone has the right to what they believe. You didn't need to apologize."
A blushing Trey mumbled, "I did if I ever wanted hot sauce again."
That was all it took to send me into a laughing fit in which all of our little band of brothers joined, even Nate once he stopped spluttering about his blackmail being revealed.
When we settled down, I asked soberly, "But are you really okay with it, Trey? I promise you'll still get hot sauce no matter what your answer is."
He thought seriously, and I knew he'd answer with real honesty. He nodded slowly and spoke even slower and his deep bass was soft like fur. "Yeah. Yeah. I guess so. It really is nobody's business. For the rest, I've always been taught how evil it is, you know, two guys, doing things, sex things. That anyone, you know, like that preys on kids.
"My dad's second cousin is the singer, Anita Bryant? She's made commercials and speeches about it and everything." My eyes widened slightly. We'd seen one of the recorded speeches in CCD just a few weeks ago. It was pretty brutal. And that's right: Orson Bryant III. I never even thought about it. Oh, God, poor Trey!
"Papa agrees with her. I..." He went silent a long time. "I don't think Mama would'a, though. She always said that God made us all sinners. Let him without sin throw the first stone and all that? Even though she, sh-she's gone, I think Papa should listen to that."
All of us sat spellbound, hanging on his words like they were a... a verdict of sorts. "And you haven't done anything to anyone that I can tell. But I think it was, was, uh, well, when Jim talked about love. They said fa-- qu-- um, guys like that don't, you know, don't even know what love is. That it's not love at all. It's all lust and sex and they're just pretending. When I said that to Nate he looked at me and asked if that k-- that, you know, what I saw, if it looked like 'just sex', and when you two look at each other do I see, um, lust? And I..."
Karl's deep voice rumbled, "What do you see, Trey?" Trey stared at our quietest friend for the longest time.
His voice shook a little. "I don't want Papa to be wrong about stuff. It hurts too much. But I don't think I've ever seen a boy and a girl look at each other like that. There's always something else there, one or the other or both thinking about a date or... well, if they might, you know. But you two just seemed so..." Trey hiccoughed to silence.
My voice creaked a little and it was clear to anyone listening that I was close to breaking down. "Thank you, Trey. I'm so, so sorry we upset everything, made you doubt your Papa. I wish you'd never seen--"
"I don't though," Trey's voice cut across me. "I don't wish I hadn't seen. I wish, oh, I don't know what I wish. I guess I wished you guys were making me into a joke and were mean and cruel and selfish. Then Papa wouldn't be wrong. But you're not. Even after what I said and, you know, how I looked at you, you both wanted to make me feel better. And J-Jim was madder that I said it wasn't real than anything else! I don't understand! But I, I know that what I saw wasn't fake. It wasn't pretend. And it, it, it wasn't wrong, I think."
I crouched, almost kneeing, to bring my face even with his. I put a hand on each shoulder and said, "You, Trey, are a good man. I'm still sorry that I, that we, brought so much doubt into your life. I pray to God that I could make it all go away.
"But you were right. When I look at Jim, I don't think about, you know, at all. I think about... Jim. Maybe I'll find out later that I'm an evil selfish bastard, and maybe Save Our Children is right and I'm sick and perverted. Maybe your Papa was never wrong at all. But I know that I love Jim more than anything in my world. Your Papa's second cousin sang a song my mom likes a lot. It starts something like, 'The world is full of lonely people. I know because I'm one of them.' And I'm not any more. And that just, it just can't be wrong."
Trey was crying a little. I patted both shoulders and moved to stand by Jim again. To stand where I was supposed to be. Where I was supposed to be forever.
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Canvas Hell: 29 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 20 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 21 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Lake Desolation: 14 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/ Shark Reef: 7 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/ Culberhouse Rules: 5 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/ Raven's Claw: 2 chapters .../authoritarian/ravens-claw/
Just finished, rewritten and typeset: Off the Magic Carpet in PDF or eBook formats. Let me know if you're interested. The price is right: Whatever you think it's worth!
Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love (5 installments) .../incest/in-gods-love/