textfiles/sex/EROTICA/H/happcamp.txt

Archive-name: Violent/happcamp.txt
Archive-author: Mark E. Dassad
Archive-title: Happy Campers


(C) 1992  Mark E. Dassad.    May be reproduced and  redistributed
    un-edited and un-altered in electronic form  with this notice
    intact. The author reserves the right to sell paper copies at
    huge profit to the disconnected.

    +++++++  It's not about violence, it's not about sex.  +++++++
    +++++++++++++++    It's about violent sex."    +++++++++++++++


"Hey squirt!"

Hushed voices, nasty giggling.  Nervous.  A dirty pair of boys jockeys
quickly stuffed into his mouth.  giggling.  Desperate hisses to each
other to shut up, quit laughing.  Strong hands grab at his arms, flip
the terrified, struggling boy over, expertly lash his hands tightly
behind his back, as two other pairs of hands succeed in holding his
legs still as his ankles are bound securely together, a roll of tape
is wound around his head securing the gag in his mouth.

"shit" someone whispers.  "how's he gonna blow us?"  More giggles, he
can hear punching, scuffling, giggling, desperate whispers again to
shut up.  His heart races he thinks he can hear it pounding in his
ears.  He tries to scream, feels his chest vibrate with the effort but
only a muffled cottony "mff" escapes.  

"what're you buttheads doing?"  Randy, one of his bunk-mates is awake.
A baseball nut, a jock.  He hates him.  He hates them all. It's
mutual.

"You wanna take his place?"  one of the abductors whispers menacingly.

"Nah I wanna _watch_," Randy hisses back.

"shut up or you're next, asshole."

He is lifted by his shoulders and ankles and dragged twisting from the
tent, wearing only the undershorts and camp t-shirt he was sleeping
in.  Staring up into the night, eyes wide with terror, he blanches at
the sight of the smiling faces of three older boys from the Senior
group.  Rod, Tom, Spike.  Fresh-Air Fund kids from the city, they
carry switch-blades and scare the piss out his upper-middle-class
sensibilities.  They drag him higher into the woods, crashing through
underbrush, swearing and grunting.  When they decide they are far
enough away from the camp that they won't be detected they dump him
unceremoniously on the ground.  Pine needles press through his
underwear and he struggles futilely to roll over and away from the
needles pricking his genitals.

He listens to his captors talking quietly, they sound excited, he
can't see them from where he is lying and he can't connect names or
faces to the voices.

"Shit I wish we could get some beers,"  one of them says.

"Speed man, I really could use some speed."

"Pussy!"  the third one blurts out, and they all laugh.

One of them nudges him with a heavy booted foot, and they squat down
next to his bound form and roll him onto his back so his arms are
cramped beneath him, digging into his spine.  A small flashlight
shines in his face so he is blinded; he sees the glint of metal,
assumes it's a blade.  He's already wet himself in terror, and only
moans pitifully as he feels a hand grab at his crotch.

"Fucker pissed himself!" the crotch-grabber laughs, wipes his hand off
on the boy's leg.

One of them leans into his face, holding a blade close to his nose.
Spike?  Rod?

"I'm gonna take this gag offa you but if you scream I swear it I'll cut
yr dick off I mean it."  A thumb and forefinger close around the head
of his penis, and twist, hard, for emphasis.  He arches his back and
tries to scream.

"Fuck the little faggot really did piss himself!"

He feels a hand underneath his jockeys, hears a tearing sound; his
underwear is yanked from his body, used to wipe up where he peed
himself.  Realizing he's lying bound and naked on a prickly bed of
pine needs, struggling fiercely, he finally manages to not cry.

The boys talk in low tones around his head; he is incapable of
anticipating what they are planning, they don't teach this sort of
thing in seventh grade health class, and even as the tape is torn from
around his head, the dirty jockeys drawn from his mouth, and the
leader -- Tom? -- lowers his jeans and underwear and kneels straddling
his shoulders, he is surprised, shocked, _dumb-founded_, when a soft
fleshy penis is pressed against his tightly closed mouth.

"Blow me!"  

He cannot make his jaw un-clench, it is too disgusting.

A white hot pain jumps across his groin; one of the others has picked
up a thin supple branch and whipped it across his crotch, lashing the
head of his prick.  He opens his mouth to scream and the swelling cock
pressing at his lips is stuffed into his mouth; hands are clutching at
the sides of his head, he chokes and gags and tries to scream, afraid
he is being smothered, strangled, by the penis thrusting in his face.

"Bite me and I'll cut off your dick and make you eat it," the boy
pistoning in his face whispers menacingly.  

He is sure the threat is serious; he opens his mouth and lets the boy
use him.  The penis slides wetly in his mouth, he can feel it growing.
He feels the weight of his attacker sliding back and forth along his
chest as the penis slides back and forth between his teeth.  He tries
to catch the rhythm, to breathe, so he won't panic, but there is no
rhythm, instinct wins and he twists franticly, only distantly aware of
cruel, excited laughter.

"Make him do you good!" one of the others whispers.

"Fuck his face.  Do it!"

He is surprised when the penis is withdrawn; he knows about jerking
off, and he felt the first wet pre-cum at the back of his throat; he
was waiting for the horrible moment when the boy -- Rod? -- would come
in his mouth.

The boy gets up off his chest: he is pulled to his feet, dragged a
short distance, pushed to his knees, bent face first over a large
available log.  He whimpers miserably, terrified of what he does not
understand, his naked groin hurts pressed into the rough bark of the
log.

More excited whispers.  Hands brushing pine needles from his naked
ass.

"Smooth like a fucking girl's."

"Tighter than pussy, you remember the little nigger we did last
Summer?"

"Still wish it was pussy."

Hands pry his buttocks apart.  He hears a loud spitting noise,
something presses at his sphincter.  He begs, pleads.

"What are you doing??"  "Don't..."  "Please..." "Stop!"

"Shut him up!"  The one pressing at his ass orders the others.  The
pressure at his opening is becoming unbearable, he tries to lean
forward and away from the sensation, but only succeeds in scraping his
vulnerable genitals against the rough bark.

Terrible pain!  His muscle dilates against it's will and his
attacker's stiff penis pushes into him.

A high-pitched shriek escapes his lungs, echoing about the darkness
until the wet urine-soaked remains of his underwear are stuffed into
his mouth.  He does not notice the foul rag in his mouth, his mind is
reeling, his entire existence is focused on the thing that is
stretching his asshole.  He is sure it will kill him, the fire inside
him is unbearable, he wishes he would faint but instead he feels the
penis pushing deeper into him, stretching him open, pressing him into
the log until at last it seems it can go no deeper and his mind leaps
as it is withdrawn, thankful the ordeal is finished...  but just as
the monster in his ass is about to exit it slams back in, harder and
deeper; he shrieks, but only a muffled groan escapes the filthy rag
and the spectators giggle.

"Sounds like the faggot likes it."

His body slams back and forth as the monster stretches him open, his
groin slams into the log again and again he has lost all sense of time
as his rapist continues to use him.  Amid the fiery pain, he feels an
unfamiliar wetness spreading deep inside his colon, and at last the
penis bludgeoning his rectum is withdrawn.

He sags in relief against the log; jerks hysterically, his mind cries
out in disbelief as the second abductor -- Spike?  Rod?? -- clutches
his buttocks and drives a stiff, hard penis deep into his freshly
raped ass.  He is sobbing behind the filthy rag in his mouth, he hears
the one who initiated him talking softly to the third boy as he feels
his rectum stretch and pull trying to accommodate the penis filling
him.

"The little rich bastards are always the best."

"Yeah.  Soft and pink."  

A limp penis appears in front of his nose; strong hands are gripping
his shoulders, fucking him harder than the first one; he feels the
penis driving deeper, splitting him wider and he can only twist and
grunt in terror.

"Clean it off asshole."

A hand pulls his head up and he looks into the grinning face of the
boy who took his cherry.  He grimaces in agony each time the cock
pounding into him hits bottom, and he sees the boy smile.

"You like that huh?"  

He sees a knife out of the corner of his eye.

"You wanna be our girlfriend this Summer?"

The rag is pulled from his mouth and replaced with a soft wet penis.
It tastes of shit and blood and salty semen and he gags and tries to
pull his head away, but hands clasp his hair, force him to keep the
cock in his mouth, he feels it at the back of his throat, he feels the
penis still working in his ass, the two slam into him from either end,
off sync, wildly.

Somewhere faraway he feels a wetness spreading inside him, and the
second penis is withdrawn from his ass while the one in his face
continues to slide wetly in his mouth.  He knows now to expect a third
penis at his backside and he is not disappointed.

This boy is shorter and wilder.  He feels the numbing pain of a fat
cock stab into him as the penis in his mouth slowly hardens.  The boy
in his ass is clutching him tightly, slamming into him in especially
hard, short staccato bursts he feels the boy's hips slam into his ass
and he wails around the cock in his mouth.

He hears laughter; tears rise in his eyes, he cannot help it anymore,
the pain is more than _anyone_ could bear, and he sobs around the cock
sliding against the back of his throat, tears rolling down his cheeks
small shrill cries escape him each time the boy riding him slams up
into his rectum and picks his hips up off the log for a moment
supported only by the dick pressing into his ass.  Strong muscular
hands reach around to pull and scratch at his nipples; the cock in his
mouth is getting harder; each time he tries to scream at the sharp
bursts of pain exploding inside his ass the cock in his mouth slides
down the back of his throat and he panics twisting and struggling
against his bonds and the strong hands that clutch at his body, an
instinctive response to having his air-passage blocked that he cannot
control.

At last the penis brutalizing his ass is removed; he does not feel the
streamers of semen that spray the back of his t-shirt, he is only
aware of the penis sliding back and forth in his mouth.

"Twice in one night man!"  the two boys watching seem impressed with
their friend's ability to get it up.

The cock is sliding at the back of his throat the shit taste long
forgotten, drooled out onto the ground.  A slimy salty wetness pulses
at the back of his throat, he gags and spits cum onto the ground at
the feet of the boy in front of him; semen splashes into his face and
he whimpers patheticly.

He feels a set of hands at his back and panics; afraid one of the
other boys is ready for another turn in his ass.  A face appears in
front of him as the ropes binding his hands and feet are removed.
Hands clutch at his exposed buttocks, squeeze his genitals.

The face in front of him speaks softly, menacingly.  Rod!

"If you tell anybody about this you won't live long enough to
testify."

He hears a voice whisper near his left ear, he can feel the warm
breath on the side of his face.

"Besides, why would you tell anyone you were a faggot and fucked a
bunch of older guys from the senior group?"

He feels his buttocks squeezed and pulled, slapped and tickled.
Something large, hard and smooth, is pressed up into his ass.

"see you tomorrow night, _sweetie_"  

He lies, crying and exhausted, still bent over the log, their semen
drips from his tortured asshole as he listens to their laughter
receding back towards the camp, feeling the object they've shoved
inside him filling his rectum.

Slowly, untwisting his cramped arms, moving to push himself up onto
his feet.  Collapsing to his knees as he realizes what has happened to
him.  Raped.  Fucked.  Used, like a _girl_.  Like a whore.  A FAGGOT.
He _is_ a faggot.  That's why they've chosen him instead of of of...
of Randy, they could've fucked Randy but they chose him because he's
a wimp, a sissy, a FAGGOT.  

He lays for an eternity, curled fetally on the pine carpet, feeling
the thing in his ass, listening to the crickets, the quiet night
sounds.  When he figures it is only a few hours before dawn, he rolls
to a squatting position and painfully works the muscles of his rectum
to expel the thing buried inside him.  He stares at it, a large
smooth rock, a streak of shit covering it.  Picking it up, carefully,
with his ruined underwear, rubbing it clean he palms it.  He notices
they've left behind the briefs they gagged him with, they will do as
clothing.  He pulls them on; three sizes too big he holds them up with
one hand, clutching his souvenir he creeps back to camp, slinks into
his bunk, crawls into his cot, hiding his cum-streaked t-shirt inside
his pillow-case.

Randy stirs as he enters.

"Hey Spaz"

He freezes in his cot.

"We all want blow jobs or we're gonna tell the whole camp what you
were doing."

The other two members of his bunk are leaning on their elbows in their
cots, staring at him.  He freezes as Randy approaches his cot and
holds his dick in his hand in front of his face.

"Well?"  

He closes his eyes and opens his mouth as his bunk-mates line up for
their turn, giggling and pulling at their small hard pricks.


***** not the end ****

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