Where it happened: at camp
I’m 55 now, but when I was a kid, my parents took us on vacation, and for better or worse it changed my life.
My parents had a very dysfunctional relationship. Dad was the absolute ruler, but all unpopular rulings were dealt with by my mother’s passive/aggressive behavior. If Dad made a decision Mom disagreed with, she would burn his meals, forget to mail out some bills, or run the car into a tree or something. Heaven forbid they would have ever sat down and discussed anything like rational adults.
The vacation started as some suggestions that we needed a vacation about a year before we actually went. Dad hated taking time off from work, or more accurately hated spending time with us when he wasn’t working. He initially nixed the vacation idea, but continual references to all the fun we wouldn’t be having, and many dents in the car later, Dad conceded that maybe a vacation would be cheaper than the body shop.
At first my Mom was ecstatic. We were actually going somewhere. She made a list of all the relatives we would visit, all the cheesy tourist attractions we’d see, and all the restaurants we would dine in. Dad, on the other hand, had agreed to go on vacation, but held the right to decide where, when and for how long. The night before we left, Dad announced we were going to an old friend’s hunting camp in the Adirondacks for 10 days. We might stop to see one of Mom’s cousins on the return trip if no one pissed him off, but since he had to take time off, it was going to be the way he wanted.
My mother was upset. She had won a battle, but lost the war. Retaliation would certainly be forthcoming. She smiled pleasantly and said “Ok dear”, but she was seriously pissed.
She evidently came up with a plan the night before we left (she told me this some years later when we were reminiscing). She would leave someone’s clothes home so that when she “discovered” the oversight we would have to return home.
She knew better than to leave my father’s stuff home – some boundaries were not to be crossed, and that was one of them. She certainly couldn’t leave her own stuff home, and leaving my older brother’s would have been as unthinkable as leaving Dad’s. That left me.
We loaded our luggage into the station wagon and left very early the next morning. The ride seemed to take an eternity. Finally we left the main road and progressed up a secondary road for what seemed like forever, before turning onto a dirt road, then still later a cow path until we ultimately found ourselves in the middle of nowhere. I remember everything that followed on that vacation like it occurred yesterday.
We hadn’t seen a town in nearly half an hour. For that matter we had not seen a car, a person or a house. Dad drove up a grassy snake trail of a driveway until we came to a cabin in front of a clearing bordering a small lake. I still don’t know where we ended up, but it may as well have been the middle of the Gobi desert. Dad parked the car, carted the suit cases into the small cabin, instructed Mom to “get them damn kids changed” into play clothes, while he smoked a cigarette.
Mom dutifully changed my brother’s clothes, and made a pretense of searching diligently for mine. Alas, we must have left them home. We’d have to go back and get them.
When she told Dad, he exploded into a rage of obscenities. He said I could wear what I had on for the whole time. Mom countered that they were “good” clothes, and that just wouldn’t do. Dad then told her that I was going naked for the next ten days. She tried to protest, but Dad was mad and his mind was made up. Off came all my clothes, and I went off to play as naked as the day I was born.
At first my brother teased me about being nude, but we soon got used to it. Liberal amounts of deep woods Off kept me from being eaten alive, and it really felt pretty good.
The first three or four days we were alone, but then the guy that owned the cabin came up with his wife to visit. They were amused at the story of why I had nothing on, and seemed to take no further notice. Dad and Bob, the guy that owned the place, decided to hike around the small lake. My brother and I were allowed to tag along. We went quite a ways before my brother stepped in a hole, twisted his ankle, and started screaming. Dad carried him back to the cabin while Bob and I waited beside the lake for Dad to return. When he did, he said that both Bob’s wife and Mom thought that he needed to see a doctor. They discussed it and decided that I would remain at the cabin with Bob until they got back.
Soon after Dad, Mom, my brother and Bob’s wife left, I found myself standing stark naked in front of the cabin with Bob there to keep an eye on me. Bob asked if I wanted to walk around the lake with him, and so I did. We were about half way around when Bob sat on a rock to rest. He pointed out some turtles and a salamander to me. While I was bent over looking at the salamander, I felt rough fingers touch my bare scrotum. I recall being surprised, but not frightened or anything. Bob asked if it felt good, and being a truthful little boy, I responded that it did. He had me turn around, and he grasped my penis. He commented on how large it was.
I had noticed in gym class in the shower room that my penis was much longer and bigger in diameter than the other boys’. He stroked it and asked if it still felt good. It did.
In today’s world we talk to kids about good touch and bad touch. We tell them strangers should not touch you in private places. Nearly fifty years ago however kids were to be seen and not heard. You obeyed adults implicitly, and never doubted but what they knew best. Bob made the most of this.
He continued to feel my penis until I got the first erection I ever remember having. He told me that meant I was growing up. We resumed our walk around the lake. From time to time he would have me bend over, and he would either run a finger up and down the crack of my bottom, feel my scrotum, or stroke my penis. Each time he asked me if it felt good. Each time I responded in the affirmative. He then started asking me if I wanted more. When I said I did, he started warning me not to tell my Dad as he would be very angry with me that I had asked his friend to “play with my privates”.
When we reached the cabin, he asked me again if I liked his touching me. Since it felt good, I said that I did. He had me hop up on the picnic table in front of him. He felt me up a good bit, then to my shocked surprise he leaned forward and started sucking my penis. He licked my bare nuts and held them in his mouth. He again asked if it felt good and if I liked it, and being a dumb little kid, I said yes.
This continued for some time until he said that since he had done so much to make me feel good, didn’t I think I should make him feel good. The thought was unappealing to say the least, but in my kid brain, fair was fair, so I agreed.
He stood up, unzipped his pants, pulled his penis out and told me to suck it. I got down off the table and stared at it. Mine was big compared to other kids, but his was huge. He took my hand and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. Only after much urging (and a thinly veiled threat that he would have to tell my dad that I “made him play with my privates”) did I take the head of his penis in my mouth. He had me suck him and slide his organ in and out of my mouth. All of a sudden my mouth was full of a hot rather nasty tasting liquid. I gagged and choked on it, but he insisted I keep going and swallow it. I did, but it was gross. After that, he put his penis back in his pants, sat down and had me sit on his lap.
He rested his one hand on my bare shoulder, and fondled my penis and scrotum with the other. After a while (and a repeated warning that I not tell my Dad) he let me go play. Sometime later everyone else got back to the cabin. My brother’s ankle was only sprained, and everyone was obviously relieved.
Bob came up to the cabin daily after that. When he could, he felt me up, sucked me and reiterated his warnings about not telling anyone. Soon our vacation was over, and we went home.
Over time I pushed the memory from my mind. In time I got married. I had developed a love for going nude on that vacation that never quite left me, although I was never allowed to go openly naked after that at home, so I spent alot of time nude with my wife, In time we joined a nudist club. A couple of years ago I encountered an older guy there who seemed quite friendly. We talked for some time. Occasionally another couple of people would wander along and we included them in our conversation.
It was getting later in the afternoon when I said I had to leave for home. The older guy (I never got his name) remarked right out of the blue that I “had a nice body”. I was a little surprised that he just blurted it out. He then asked if I had ever had a massage. I said no thinking it was just in conversation, but he started kneading my shoulder. He asked me if it felt good. It was just like time was taking me back to when I was nine years old. I said nothing.
He worked his way down my back to my buttocks and caressed/massaged them. He then got in front of me and started working down my chest. I was quite embarrassed by his touch, but more so by the erection I had gotten. He started stroking it and feeling my scrotum. He asked if I liked it and if it felt good. I couldn’t even answer. He proceeded to give me a blow job, resulting of course in ejaculation.
I pulled myself together and told him to leave me be. I dressed and went home.
Over the next several months I started having nightmares and weird flashbacks. Finally I told my wife about my childhood and the incident at the nudist camp. I was half afraid she’d be furious or even leave me, but she is very understanding and kind. (Not to mention very, very beautiful!)
With several months of intensive counseling I am better. I felt like I could never go back to the nudist resort again, but my wife (who is even more of a nudist than I am) insisted I go with her. After a short period of anxiety I started enjoying it again. Now we spend practically all our time there, but I won’t go without her.
I apologize for such a huge post, but its sort of a cleansing thing to tell my story. Please parents, don’t leave your kids in such a compromising situation as mine left me in.