Mrs Connelly had, for a number of years, been running a summer camp for boys. It was exceedingly popular with mums of teens who gave the camp their highest recommendation to friends and other family members, thus ensuring Mrs Connelly had little need to advertise the facilities available at her special summer long ‘Red Indian’ camp for boys aged between twelve and sixteen. Many of the boys had been sent to the camp year after year ever since first attending it when they were twelve years old. The mums were so relieved to have the burden of looking after their sons and finding things for them to do to keep them out of mischief, they gladly sent the boys off to camp to get them from under their feet.
The camp itself was set in a vast, remote lakeside woodland. Facilities for the boys were fairly basic since Mrs Connelly was a firm believer that boys in the age group that attended her summer camp didn’t need a lot of what she called ‘mollycoddling’. Besides they were kept so busy with various activities that boys didn’t have time to think about the comforts or distractions they might have found had they been allowed to stay at home.
The remoteness of the camp was a big selling point and it also meant the boys were free to take part in all the usual activities associated with camp life, including day-long hikes escorted by camp counsellors and traditional boys’ games as well as skinny-dipping in the lake, properly supervised of course.
Each year Mrs Connelly recruited around six girls to help supervise the boys. The girls were all aged roughly sixteen or seventeen and were specially selected after a rigorous interview conducted personally by Mrs Connelly. Competition among girls for the opportunity to be a counsellor at Mrs Connelly’s summer camps was keen, since a good reference from her was a guarantee of future work among families with teenage boys who needed looking after by well a trained girl counsellor. Two male counsellors, aged in their late teens or very early twenties, were also recruited by Mrs Connelly. These older boys (Mrs Connelly always referred to the male counsellors as ‘boys’) were expected to muck in and share the younger boys accommodation, act as rôle-models and to generally bond with the boys attending the summer camp.
The main accommodation for the boys, as well as the older boy counsellors, was a basic wooden bunkhouse. By comparison the girl counsellors had very comfortable dormitory accommodation in the ‘big house’, as Mrs Connelly’s well appointed residence was called. The girls each had their own private bathroom and shower, whereas the boys had to make to with open-air gang showers without privacy screens. In fact, as they quickly discovered, there was very little privacy for boys at all.
The boys bunkhouse was supplemented by a number of wigwams and teepees erected around the grounds for the boys to use during sleep-outs. From this it will be gathered that a major component of the camp was the ethos of the Red Indian, indeed boys at the camp were expected to dress in age appropriate costumes of Indian Braves. These days of course Mrs Connelly would be accused of ‘cultural appropriation’, but in the far off days in which my stories are set the idea of making young boys adopt the dress and partake of rituals, whether or not based in fact, did not to my knowledge cause the batting of one solitary eyelid. Indeed, as I have said, the parents of active, playful and at times rambunctious boys were only too happy to see their progeny taken off their hands for a few weeks during the summer holidays.
Arthur was twenty and his best buddy Leo nineteen, when they signed up as camp counsellors for the summer. Neither boy quite knew what he was in for, but they needed the money to help see them through another year at university. It was a friend of Leo’s mother who had heard of the jobs going at Mrs Connelly’s summer camp, but when he was told about it, Leo was less than enthusiastic. His mum went ballistic. Did Leo think he could laze about all summer and not lift a finger to earn some money? Didn’t he realise how much it was costing to keep him at university? Finally Leo’s mother told him flatly, he was going to work at Mrs Connelly’s Summer Camp… full stop!
Leo went to his room in a sulk. It was true, he could do with some money for sure, but the idea of being holed up in some summer camp… I mean, where’s the nearest club to this place, he asked himself, convinced it would be hell on earth to be stuck there all summer. He told his pal, Arthur in the hope he’d think of an excuse not to go.
“Come on… what have we got to lose, Leo? Being paid to keep an eye on a bunch of boys for a few months… Can’t be that difficult,” Arthur said. It was not the response Leo was after.
“Yeah, but…”
“Yeah, but what? We could both do with a break from studies… it’s been a tough year and neither of us have had much in the way of exercise… I can’t remember when I last swam or played sport of any sort. Jeez, Leo, we’d be paid real money to take a holiday!”
Put like that Leo acquiesced: “Okay, okay Art I give in… where do I sign?”
“We’d better ask for an application form first and hope no one else has been signed up… ask your mum’s friend if she’d write to the camp, she’s the one who knows all about it, isn’t she?”
Leo nodded and agreed, but his mother was ahead of him. She had spoken to her friend, explained the position and asked her to do all she could to get Leo and his friend Arthur jobs at the summer camp.
The friend duly forwarded an enthusiastic reference to Mrs Connelly saying what well behaved and trustworthy boys Leo and Arthur were. From the moment she received the letter along with the enclosed recent photos of the boys, Mrs Connelly was left in on doubt as to their suitability.
The boys eagerly signed Mrs Connelly’s standard short-term contract. Mrs Connelly had been let down before by both boys and girls saying they were keen to work as camp counsellors, only to be told they weren’t coming after all, so she had a contract drawn up that, although it evoked fearsome penalties for breaking its terms, its validity in law was doubtful.
Along with the contracts Mrs Connelly sent the boys a brochure about the summer camp. They saw pictures of boys in Red Indian costumes which they thought were highly amusing. There were pictures of boys on hikes, boys sitting around a campfire and boys playing outdoor games. In each picture the boys were dressed in Red Indian costumes.
On another page they read that Mrs Connelly ran ‘Health and Welfare Classes’ for the boys.
Art shrugged his shoulders when Leo asked what he thought those were all about: “Search me… health and welfare, I suppose.”
They turned a page to see a group of boys, this time not wearing their Red Indian costumes because they were all totally nude, running away from the camera toward a lake.
Art laughed: “Don’t forget to pack your Speedos, Leo…”
Leo didn’t pay much attention. He saw something far more interesting: “Hey! Look at this…”
Art popped a boner when he saw a photo of the girl counsellors in their skimpy outfits.
Leo panted like a demented dog as he thought of all the opportunities that were to be laid out before him in the coming months. He pushed his hand down the front of the shorts he was wearing and grabbed his stiff rod. Art saw what he was doing and laughed: “Can’t you leave that thing alone for five minutes?!”
“But they’re so hot!!” Leo was beside himself, “I can’t believe we never heard of this place before… please, tell me I’m not dreaming, Art…”
“You’re not dreaming, buddy… we’ll be spending all summer there, so save your juices!”
There was a picture towards the back of the brochure which sort of puzzled Art. It was the only photo in which boy counsellors appeared. There was nothing Art could put his finger on, so he didn’t bother mentioning it to Leo, but it was the expression on one of the boy’s faces. He couldn’t quite make out what it was. The photo was nothing special, just two boys about Art’s age, photographed waist up, bare chested, with their arms over each other’s shoulders just as Art and Leo did sometimes after they’d been working out, or maybe doing some aerobic exercises together. There were three smiling girl counsellors wearing crop-tops in the picture as well, but although the girls’ smiles were obviously genuine, the boys’ smiles looked a little forced. Maybe that’s what Art found a bit strange, but he knew if he said anything to Leo, now that Leo’d seen all those girls, it would be a complete waste of time. Leo wouldn’t be listening to anything he said.
A covering letter from Mrs Connelly told the boys that everything they needed would be supplied, including all necessary clothing, towels and sheets. The letter was signed off with a few jolly words, ‘Just bring a toothbrush!’. Of course neither Art nor Leo was quite prepared to take Mrs Connelly literally at her word, so they made sure to pack their hiking shorts, T-shirts and Speedos… as well as a toothbrush.
Leo’s mother drove the boys to the camp reception site. The summer camp itself was situated a few miles off the main road down tracks unsuitable for ordinary vehicles. There was a small hut in which new arrivals could wait, just off the road. Leo’s mother pulled up as the heavens opened. Art and Leo jumped out into the pouring rain and dashed for the hut as the car pulled away. Dripping wet the boys looked at one another.
“Did you pick up the bags?” Leo asked.
“No… didn’t you?” Art replied. Already he could feel his anger rising, “You were sitting on the back seat!” he shouted, “Why didn’t pick them up? For Chrissakes, man!”
“I didn’t think mum was going to drive off like that… It’s not my fault…”
“Yeah… it never is your fault, like the time we got stuck at your sister’s party…”
“You always bring that up… the girls were just having fun… I didn’t think that would happen…”
“That’s your trouble, Leo, you don’t… Your dick does it all for you…”
“Ha… bloody… ha…”
“Well it’s true, isn’t it… ever since we were kids you’ve never left your dick alone… you made sure you won every wanking competition going… even now, just the other day at the pool in the changing cubicle you were so horny you couldn’t keep your hands off that sausage of yours… it wasn’t funny… couldn’t you have waited till I’d got out of the cubicle before you jerked off? Your spunk went all up my arm, you filthy little sod…”
“Yup… sorry about that buddy… I can’t help it if I’m horny all the time…”
Art calmed down and sighed: “Look… what are we going to do? I thought the transport from the camp would be here to meet us…”
“Start walking, I guess… I mean we’re both soaked to the skin already. If it chucks it down again we’re not going to get any wetter…”
“You’re right , bud… let’s mosey on down the ole trail…”
Art and Leo stepped out of the hut. Although it had stopped raining, thick droplets of rainwater pelted them every few feet as the branches overhead shook in the breeze. About twenty minutes into their hike the boys heard a vehicle approaching and around a bend ahead of them a red flatbed truck appeared with Mrs Connelly herself at the wheel. Squeezed in beside her were three of the girl counsellors who’d asked just to come along for the ride, but in reality they were keen to check out the boys. The cab wasn’t big enough for them all to sit side by side, so one of the girls was sat in her friend’s lap and got first sight of Art and Leo.
“Oh… you should see them… soaked to the skin!”
“A-dorable!!”
“Lemme see! Lemme see!”
It was Mrs Connelly’s turn to speak: “What on earth are they doing here? Couldn’t they have waited for us. I told them… or at least one of their mothers what time I’d pick them up. Now they’ve gone and got themselves soaked. We’d better make sure they get changed when we get them to the camp…”
She lowered the side window: “Arthur and Leonard? Why? Oh never mind… hop on the back and hold on tight… I’ll have to go up to the main road to turn round… you should have stayed where you were…” She raised the window again as the boys climbed onto the back of the truck, “Boys…” she said shaking head. The girls giggled. They were looking forward to seeing more of Art and Leo… a lot more!
The truck lumbered along the muddy track. It seemed to Art and Leo to take just as long to get back to the main road as it had for them to walk as far as they had. And they were not only getting even wetter, but slugs of mud were flung up at them as the truck bounced along the rutted track. Mrs Connelly turned the truck around just as the clouds cleared to let the summer sun break through.
“Still holding on, boys?” she called.
“Yes, Mrs Connelly!” Art and Leo called back, “Still here…”
“Good… hang on tight and we’ll be at the camp in no time…”
Mrs Connelly lived up to her promise and put her foot down. She always found the going easier on her way to the camp for some reason and the boys hung on to each other, as well as the side panels of the flatbed, as they were flung about getting more splattered with mud. Mrs Connelly drove straight to the boys’ section of the camp and when they arrived both Art and Leo were a complete mess. They had both been wearing shorts and a T-shirt, but these were almost unrecognisable, just as wet and muddy as the rest of their bodies as they climbed off the back of the truck.
The girls laughed at the sight of Art and Leo. Mrs Connelly shook her head from side to side and muttered: “Well I never…” as if the boys had got into such a state on purpose.
“You’d both better get stripped off before you get a chill. There’s a shower for boys round the other side of the bunkhouse… that’s where you’ll be staying. You’ll find the outfits you’ll be wearing in there on your beds. Any questions?”
Art spoke: “Leo managed to leave our bags in his mum’s car, so all we’ve got is what we’re wearing…”
“How unfortunate… but never mind, you’ll find that boys don’t need much at this camp…”
Leo fumed, but said nothing.
Mrs Connelly turned to the girls: “Phoebe… you go up to the big house and help Jane in the kitchen… Jo and Maria… in need you to bring some blankets from the storeroom for the boys… it still gets a bit chilly at night,” she explained to Art and Leo who were still standing looking perplexed, not knowing quite what they’d let themselves in for.
“Chop! Chop!” Mrs Connelly said as she clapped her hands, “Get those wet things off and take a shower…”
Art and Leo jumped to it and shot round the corner in the direction they’d been told the showers were situated. As soon as they were out of sight of Mrs Connelly Leo turned to look at his friend.
“Jeez… those girls are hot!”
“Yes, I saw where your hands were…”
“It’s going to be tough…”
“Hard work you might say…” said Art laughing.
“Very funny… I can’t help it if I’m over-sexed…”
They both came to a sudden halt when they saw the very basic showers.
“Is this it! Jeez… anyone could walk past and see us…”
“These must be for the boys, Leo… she can’t mean these… I mean they’re out of the ark… better make do with them until we find out where our showers are… come on get stripped off…” Art said as he pulled off his soaking wet, mud-spattered T-shirt. His muddy shorts were stuck to him and it was a struggle to get them off. Art had got them about halfway down his legs when Mrs Connelly walked round the corner.
“Haven’t you boys showered yet? Come on, Arthur… give me those wet things. Leo… we don’t stand on ceremony here… get those clothes off before you get a chill. I’ll take these wet things of yours up to the laundry for you.”
Art did as he was told. He finished unhooking his wet shorts from his feet and handed over his things to Mrs Connelly as Leo hummed and hawed.
Art walked over to the open showers, turned the tap and started to rinse off the mud. Art had dark hair, whereas Leo was almost ash-blond. Art carried on washing himself, feeling refreshed after being bounced about as he’d hung on to the back of the flat bed truck.
Mrs Connelly’s voice deepened: “Leo… I’m waiting…” When Leo continued to hesitate, she added, “There’s no call for you boys to be so modest… I can assure you that you’ve got nothing to show that I’ve not seen before… now get those wet things off and get under the shower with Arthur…”
A red-faced and nervous Leo eventually pulled off his wet clothes. His partial erection was plain to see as he handed over his shorts and T-shirt. Mrs Connelly glanced at Leo’s exposed appendage, but other than a barely audible click of her tongue, she said nothing. She had just turned to go when Phoebe rushed around the corner: “Jane wants to know if there’s any more tins of chopped tomatoes…”
When they heard Phoebe’s voice both Art and Leo quickly turned on their heels so their backs were towards the girl. They clutched their hands between their legs. Phoebe smiled and relished the kudos of being the first girl to see the boy counsellors in the nude, even if it was just their bottoms. Mrs Connelly knew what she was up to and rolled her eyes upward before speaking: “Jane knows full well where the tins of tomatoes are kept… really!” She might have added that Phoebe knew perfectly well herself and that there was no need for her to come and ask.
“Let’s leave the boys to finish showering,” Mrs Connelly said to Phoebe before turning and calling out to Art and Leo, “I’ll take these clothes up to the big house for a good wash… If you want something to wear in the meantime, you’ll find your summer camp outfits on your bunks inside the hut…”
Leo turned towards Art: “What does she mean ‘If you want something to wear’. What is this? Some kind of nudist camp?”
“I expect she was just having a joke… we’ve got outfits to wear she said while our stuff’s being washed…”
“That Phoebe…” Leo started to say before Art told him to shut up and finish washing.
There were no towels to be seen, so the two boys were forced to ‘air dry’. Luckily for them the clouds had lifted and the sun was back out. It didn’t take long to dry off and the nude boys stepped into the bunkhouse for the first time.
“It’s a bit basic,” were Leo’s first words.
“It’s a bunkhouse, what do you expect?”
“Which bunks d’you think ours are, Art?”
“How should I know… the ones with the outfits lying on them, I guess…”
“What these?” Leo said as he picked up a couple of flimsy strips of soft leather held together by leather laces. “What do you think these are?” he asked Art.
Art felt as if a mule had just kicked him in the stomach. He knew very well what Leo was holding up and waving in front of his face.
“It’s called a loincloth, Leo… Red Indians wore them…” he explained, “Remember those photos in the brochure Mrs Connelly sent us?”
Leo looked closely at the strips of leather: “Doesn’t seem to be much of it… it’s for the kids I guess…”
“Er, no, Leo, I don’t think so… didn’t you hear what Mrs Connelly said? They’re for us to wear…” Art informed his buddy.
Leo’s jaw nearly hit the floor: “You’ve got to be kidding, Art… this thing’s tiny! She can’t expect us to wear these…” Leo held the strip of leather up to himself. His penis was only just covered by the soft leather. “Chrisake… if I get a hard-on… Jeez!”
Art could help but laugh: “Whad’ya mean if you get a hard-on? You pop a boner every time the wind changes direction… You’ll just have to learn some self-control.”
Art picked up the other loincloth and held it against himself. Leo was right, the thin, soft strips of chamois leather only just covered his penis too. He looked up to see that Leo was tying the strings of his loincloth. Art watched as Leo pulled at the leather flaps, adjusting it try and cover himself front and rear.
Leo, with a goofy grin, looked at his buddy: “Hey, it feels kinda cool… put yours on, Art.” Leo looked down at himself, then pushed his hips out a little and changing his voice so he sounded serious asked, “Tell me, Art… do my balls look big in this? Be honest…”
Leo’s question had both boys in fits of laughter. Leo helped Art to get the strings on his loincloth tied. They stood and looked at each other. They soon figured out that for the best coverage both loincloths had to be worn as low as possible which meant the boys’ pubic hair was visible as it curled over the top of the front flap. It was possibly at this point Art realised why the boy counsellors they’d seen in the brochure looked so glum. Maybe it was because they were wearing similar loincloths to the type Leo and Art were now wearing.
“Hey! Look what I’ve found…” Leo called. While Art was contemplating the next few months counselling boys wearing nothing but a skimpy loincloth, Leo had been poking about the bunkhouse.
“What’ve you found?”
Leo waved a headband and some long feathers: “... moccasins too… this is going to be fun!” Leo opened another cupboard and yelled with delight: “Tomahawks! Not real ones… plastic… and… oh, gosh… there’s bows and arrows… toy ones…” He turned to Art with a big grin on his face, “If the Cavalry come… we’ll be ready for ‘em…” he said as he waved a rubber tomahawk above his head.
Art looked with disbelief at his best friend as he watched him pull on the headband, the moccasins and some armbands he’d found. Although Art was the older of the two, there was little more than six months between them. They had always been close and there hadn’t been a time when they’d not shared secrets. Growing up together they’d got up to all sorts of adventures and scrapes… though more through luck than by judgement they’d come through unharmed. Even before puberty the boys had found out the pleasures to be had from masturbation and Art remembered how he had demonstrated to an incredulous Leo what fun it was to play with your penis. Now in front of him in the buckhouse, Leo had reverted to become the exuberant, boisterous boyhood friend that Art remembered. Art watched as Leo leapt about waving a rubber tomahawk, his loincloth flapping about, as he performed some sort of improvised war dance.
“Leo… we’re supposed to be looking after the kids, not behaving like them…”
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport… I was just getting into the mood for when the boys arrive…”
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Leo?” Art asked.
Leo stopped jumping about and furrowed his brows.
“The girls, Leo… there are girls… do you really want them to think you’re a dickhead?”
“It’s too late for that…” A girl’s voice informed him.
Leo’s hands went straight for the front of his loincloth when he saw Phoebe and Maria in the doorway.
“Jeez.. couldn’t you have knocked or something?” Leo protested.
“What on earth for?” Phoebe said, “Maria and I were enjoying your dance. Chill out… this is a summer camp… all the boys love playing Red Indians and you two are their Heap Big Chiefs…” As she said the last few words, Phoebe cast her eyes downwards and made no secret that she was looking at Leo’s loincloth.
“Oh, and by the way,” Maria chipped in, “Mrs Connelly likes her Indian Chiefs to be neater than that,” she nodded at Leo’s ash-blond pubic hair showing above the loincloth flap, “I’ve got some scissors… I could give them a nice trim… you too,” she added looking at Art.
“I don’t think so,” Art said as firmly as he could given that he had only a thin strip of soft leather between modesty and total exposure. Art was also painfully aware that his rear flap was actually shorter and thinner than the one at the front, so in order to hide his almost bare bottom, he stood facing the girls.
Maria shrugged her shoulders: “Have it your own way…”
Phoebe feigned indifference too even though she was as curious as her fellow counsellors to see even more of the two new boys: “Mrs Connelly says you can come up to the big house for something to eat,” she said, “Only today though… when the boys arrive here tomorrow, you’ll be eating with them…”
“Can you boys cook?” Maria asked.
“Course I can cook,” Leo replied.
“Yeah, he can open a tin of beans…” Art added with a chuckle.
“C’mon… let’s get a move on… doesn’t do to keep Mrs Connelly waiting,” Phoebe said as she hustled them all out of the bunkhouse. Art and Leo were careful to walk behind the girls as they made their way up to the big house. They were even more careful to see that the front tabs of their loincloths didn’t flap to one side. This was tricky as the strips of leather were thin and the slightest movement or puff of wind uncovered things which the boys would rather have left covered, so they kept their hands pressed to their loincloths in order to preserve their modesty.
“Ah, there you are!” Mrs Connelly called from the terrace of the big house, “It’s turned out so nice that I thought we would eat out here,” she paused to direct her gaze towards Art and Leo, “I see you found your summer camp outfits… and Leo, you look just wonderful… the headband and feather suit you…”
Maria spoke up: “I did tell them how you liked boys to look, but they both refused… I had a pair of scissors with as well…”
Mrs Connelly looked at the boys a little more closely: “Hmm, I see what you mean… it’ll be a distraction for the younger boys…”
“But we won’t be wearing this outfit all the time… will we?” Art interrupted, “I mean… we can have our shorts back when they’ve been washed, can’t we?”
Mrs Connelly sighed: “Of course… but the thing is the water supply here is very expensive, so we only do any laundry when there’s a full load for the machine. Seeing as this is the start of the summer camp, it’s likely to be a long way off before we can justify doing any laundry…”
Art got the feeling that the mule was back and had kicked him in the stomach again.
Mrs Connelly saw how he’d reacted to her news: “But you’ve got your outfits… cheer up… they’ll be plenty of indian braves to keep you company tomorrow and as soon as we’ve got enough laundry to do, you’ll be the first to know…”
Art couldn’t believe he and Leo would be expected to wear the flimsy loincloths for the foreseeable future… and he couldn’t believe the words he spoke in reply: “Thank you, Mrs Connelly…” Jeez, he thought to himself, Jeez did I just thank her for making me wear this?!
Maria gave a slight cough. That was enough to remind Mrs Connelly that her two new boy counsellors needed smartening up if they were to be wearing nothing but loincloths for the summer.
“Yes, Maria… we can’t have our boy counsellors looking untidy,” she turned to the boys, “I’m sure you understand, you see most of the boys who come to summer camp haven’t grown any…” she looked pointedly at the pubic hair visible above the loincloths of Art and Leo, “It won’t take a minute for Maria to tidy you up a bit…”
Art thought it best to keep quiet… for the moment anyhow, but Leo wasn’t about to give up his pubic hair without a protest: “But… but,” he stuttered, sounding for all the world like a boy six or seven years younger “It’s not fair! Pleeease… do I have to?” Leo might have added there weren’t many fine blond hairs there in the first place, an incontrovertible fact as he was an extremely late developer. Art could remember Leo asking him to check to see if he had sprouted any boy-hairs and how he’d taken hold of his friend’s penis to pull it from side to side to see if Leo had started to grow any hairs. Leo was sixteen at the time. The late arrival of his pubic hair was obviously why Leo was not very keen to see it disappear.
“But it’s just a trim, so it’s not all untidy curling above your loincloth,” Maria explained.
Art knew why Leo was so reluctant to have his pubic hair trimmed. Art could afford to lose a few of his dark hairs above his loincloth. Even though, like Leo, his scrotum was still smooth and hairless, Art had noticeably more hairs around his penis, whereas Leo still had very few. The hairs visible were pretty well all the pubic hair that Leo possessed. Art knew as well as Leo, that if Maria started to trim Leo’s little bush, he’d more than likely be left with no pubic hair at all!
“I really don’t know why you’re making such a fuss,” Mrs Connelly said, “I’m sure they’ll grow back after summer camp has finished. Now let’s have no more of this silly behaviour… Maria, would you make sure you do this properly. As I explained to you earlier it’s important there is no hair visible above their costumes… I don’t want the little boys getting all inquisitive, or upset if they see their counsellors have got hair where they have none…”
“Yes, Mrs Connelly,” Maria replied. Remembering what was said, she fetched shaving foam and a razor…
Art and Leo, much as they might have preferred otherwise, knew they had to cooperate with whatever was required of them. Art couldn’t very well back out as he’d been the one to convince Leo of the rewards of the summer months spend at the camp. And there was absolutely no way that Leo would be able to face his mother ever again after witnessing her uncompromising attitude to what she deemed was her son’s reluctance to earn some money. If he walked out of this job as counsellor at the camp what hope would there be of touching his mother for some dosh to tide him over? None at all.
It took two girls, Maria and Phoebe, to remove all visible pubic hair from Art and Leo. Art watched as Leo leant back against a table, supporting himself with his hands laid flat on the table-top. The girls knelt at Leo’s feet and it took less than half a minute before the little flap of soft leather was pushed to one side by Leo’s stiffening penis. First the tip of Leo’s foreskin was seen peeking out at the bottom of the chamois flap. Then the flap was raised slowly in front of Maria and Phoebe, until Leo’s penis was pointing more or less straight at the girls. Maria waited patiently, scissors in her hand, as the leather flap started to slide off the penis to one side. Leo’s balls were completely revealed and the girls could see they were quite devoid of hair.
Art knew that his buddy would never be able to be in such close proximity to two beautiful girls like Maria and Phoebe without popping a boner, so to him it was no surprise, but that didn’t stop him from feeling embarrassed for the shame he knew it must be causing Leo. Leo’s erection almost hid completely the tuft of light-coloured pubic hair. Leo sucked in his lips as the girls pondered what to do with the erection so obviously in the way.
“I think you’d better help us, Art,” Maria said and turned ask Phoebe if she’d mind taking off Leo’s loincloth, “... it’s going to get in the way,” she explained.
Art stepped forward between the two girls. He looked Leo straight in the eyes and thought about saying something to comfort his best mate, but realised it’d be of little use. Leo now wore nothing apart from a headband with a huge feather attached, a couple of armbands and a pair of moccasins. Art could see how mortified his friend was and realised Leo was probably busy praying that his situation wouldn’t get any worse. How worse could it get? It didn’t take a genius to realise the danger of holding Leo’s penis without any thought to the consequences of mishandling it. Art knew Leo and so he carefully took hold of his friend’s penis about midway down the shaft before easing out of the way for Maria. He took great care to avoid the ultra sensitive head.
Phoebe look up at Art quizzically.
“Believe me, I know what I’m doing…” Art said in answer to her unasked question.
Leo’s penis out of the way, Maria started to snip away at the little tuft of hair. Leo was breathing hard, doing his best to control himself and promising himself a really good wank later. He’d never had a girl so close to his penis before, since in spite of all his braggadocio, Leo was still a virgin.
Locks of Leo’s almost translucent pubic hair tumbled down his legs as Maria’s scissors cut off more and more of the curly hair until all there was left was some barely visible stubble. But even this was considered too much to leave in sight of impressionable young boys. Art knew what was coming next and watched as Phoebe helped Maria to rub some shaving foam around the base of Leo’s penis. Art held on tight to his buddy’s stiff rod. Maria picked up the small safety razor and within seconds had reduced Leo to the status of a ‘baldie’ once more. Art released his grip on Leo’s penis. He saw moisture in his buddy’s eyes and so was not surprised when Leo rushed off so fast he forgot to pick up his loincloth.
Art, being a little more mature than Leo, managed to control himself as the girls set about trimming his pubic hair. Maria merely clipped the hairs that had curled over the top of the loincloth and after a quick shave of the resultant stubble, declared her work done.
Mrs Connelly came back: “I’ve just seen Leo… I didn’t mean you to remove all his pubic hair, girls… Leo looks as bald as a coot…”
“I’m sorry Mrs Connelly, but there really wasn’t much hair around Leo’s penis,” Maria explained, “...and once I’d given it a trim with my scissors, there didn’t seem much point leaving two or three little hairs, so Phoebe and I just shaved them off with the stubble… Sorry if we should have left them, Mrs Connelly…”
“Well, want’s done is done… but I hope you’ve left Arthur with some pubic hair, we’ve got to have at least one boy with some hair down there for the boys’ ‘Health and Welfare’ classes.”
When Art returned to the bunkhouse he saw that Leo had been crying. Leo still wore the headband, armband and moccasins he’d found earlier. Art was holding the loincloth he’d picked up from where Leo had left it up at the big house.
“Here, buddy… I’m sorry you had to loose your hairs, but they’ll grow back and besides there won’t be many kids with them…” Art said as he tried to console his friend.
Leo looked up, his eyes still red and sore: “... and I’ll be just like one of them… won’t I?” There was an understandable bitterness in his voice.
“No you won’t, buddy… not with a dick like yours…”
Leo looked up and managed a smile: “Jeez… I thought I was going to cum… I really did. They’re so hot… I fancy Phoebe… don’t you think she’s… she’s…”
“Hot?” Art suggested.
“Yeah… hot…”
“Don’t get your hopes up, old buddy… we’re here to look after the boys and I don’t think Mrs Connelly will take too kindly if she finds out there’s been any hanky-panky between boy and girl counsellors…”
“Hanky-panky?!” Leo spluttered his amusement at Art’s choice of phrase. “Why not?”
“I’ll tell you why not,” Art was flabbergasted by Leo’s stupidity, “If you get into trouble with Mrs Connelly she’ll throw you… and probably me, off the camp. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when your mother found out… and when she finished with you, you’d have me to contend with. Look, buddy were on velvet here… summer work outdoors, well paid in a place where we can’t spend it… and all we’ve got to do is look after a few boys, keep them happy and do what Mrs Connelly asks… Please Leo, don’t screw things up…”
Art gave Leo the loincloth he’d left behind: “Put this back on, buddy… somehow I think it might be a while before we get our stuff back from the laundry…”
