This story is a series of recollections and anecdotes that are not necessarily in chronological order, and is told by Kyle, based on the Captain's email.
South Africa
Part 1
It was the morning after we'd made camp on the grassy banks of a mountain stream. I'd lit the small fire in preparation for making coffee when Gareth announced that he was gonna take a dip. "That'll wake you up," I laughed. Even though the weather had been way hot, the mountain pools and rivers were pretty cold, especially in the mornings… cold enough to shrink even Gareth's donkey dick.
A few minutes later, the hike leader, and one of last year's seniors who'd since gone onto college, returned as I placed the billy of water over the hot coals. "Hey, Kyle, your friend is pretty loaded."
"Huh?"
"Wingnut. I went down for a swim and he was whacking his wand behind a tree. Fuck! I didn't think little guys had that much cum in them!"
I had to quit the coffee-making for a minute while I cracked up completely. "Did he see you?"
"Yep," he laughed. "But he'd reached the point of no return by then, and just said 'hi' between breaths and squirts. You should've seen the look on his face! Priceless!"
Both Gareth and I were hysterical, and must've woken the whole damn team outa their slumber. A few of them staggered outa their tents, scratched their heads as if didn't have a fucking clue where they were, then went into the nearby bushes to piss.
After making and serving the rest of the coffee, and noticing that Wingnut was absent, I went over to the spot where Gareth had taken his swim. My li'l bro was just sitting there on the bank, playing with a blade of grass, and looking totally forlorn.
"'Sup, buddy?"
"I'm embarrassed."
"Why?"
He threw the blade of grass into the water, and watched it float downstream. "Gareth caught me jacking."
"So he said," I laughed.
"He told you?"
"Yeah. He said that you shot a bucket."
Wingnut angrily grabbed a handful of grass, then thew it into the river. "Shit."
"Hey! Don't beat yourself up over it. Oops! You've already beaten it, haven't ya! Hey, bro, all the guys will jack on this trip. It's either that or wet-dreamland."
"You, too?"
"Yeppo."
"When?"
"Hey, this is Kyle, remember? I've jacked every day since we started. Twice yesterday." It was a relief to see a smile return to Wingnut's face, and we both enjoyed a good laugh. "Take my advice. If you don't want the guys to see you, don't go beating your meat near swimming places. Anyway, Gareth thinks you've got a monster cock for a little guy."
"Serious?" His brown eyes lit up. "Have you seen his? It's like his veins are like rope wound around his dick."
"Yeah, I've seen his, and everybody else's. You measure up pretty well." Our little chat had obviously done the trick. The kid was beaming big time, and back to his usual chirpy self.
There was a sudden splash that broke the tranquility of the mountain air, and that had attracted our attention. Then a mop of wet, blonde hair surfaced, with Steve's grinning face below it. He was closely followed by Wingnut and me, and, later, Ross and Darren. We swam in the refreshing coolness of the stream for ages, just enjoying the peace of the forest, and the feeling of being totally isolated from the rest of the world. This was truly a boy's paradise. The stuff of fantasies and wicked adventures.
Naturally, boys being boys, each of the older guys took a turn at trying to rough up Wingnut in the water, but the little guy held his own pretty well, and quite a few of the bigger dudes were surprised at his strength. Some actually came off second best. They all agreed, though, that Wingnut was one tough little dude, and worthy of their respect.
On the other hand, Wingnut, being a virgin hiker, wasn't going to escape the initiation. All the new guys were a fair target for the newbie treatment.
It was during the early stages of our hike up the mountain. The going was pretty heavy, and the sun was a cooker. Wingnut overheard us talking about the dehydrated water as we trudged up the narrow, winding trail, humping our backpacks, and his eyes lit up.
"Kyle? Why didn't you tell me about the dehydrated water? Then I wouldn't have to carry all these damn water bottles!"
Darren pulled an empty bottle from his bag, and showed it to Wingnut. "This is dehydrated water, bud. Want some?"
"Sure!" The kid watched Darren pour water from a full bottle into the empty bottle, then pass it to him. Wingnut couldn't hide his disappointment. "But that's your normal water!"
"OK, so what do you do with the dehydrated food you're carrying? Pour water on it, right? It's the same with dehydrated water."
Well, none of us could control ourselves for a second longer. We were all falling about, watching the puzzled expression on Wingnut's face. It was hilarious! The surprising thing was that it took quite a while for Wingnut to catch on. Then, as the hike continued, it became a standing joke. Every now and then, we'd offer the grommet an empty bottle, and ask him if he wanted a sip.
"Hardefuckinghar," he'd protest. "You guys are such fucking comics. I'll carry your dehydrated water and you can carry these damn full bottles!"
Another time, Ross asked Wingnut to go borrow a sky hook from Mark 'cause we needed one for the camp. "Ross wants a sky hook. You got one?" Mark cracked big time, and, once again, it took a while before Wingnut wised up.
I guessed the kid was looking for a bit of revenge, so one night Wingnut had caught a lizard and shoved it in Mark's sleeping bag. It was all quiet on the western front when there was a sudden scream that shattered the silence of the mountain. Mark had woken with a start when he felt something crawling over his chest. He was outa the bag like a rocket, convinced that a million creepies were crawling all over his skin. He wouldn't have known who the culprit was except for Wingnut's inability to control his laughter. The kid was cracking up something serious, and enjoying every moment of his triumph. Little did he know then that he was sentencing himself to the most heinous of punishments.
Mark grabbed the grommet, sleeping bag and all, and placed him high amongst the branches of a tree. Everytime Wingnut tried to get outa the bag, the branches would creak and groan, and threaten to break. It was quite some time before he managed to free himself, and climb down covered in scratches. His lizard days were definitely over.
With every day that passed, though, Wingnut seemed to get a little stronger, and handle the hike a lot better. Being the youngest and smallest, he'd been the brunt of quite a few jokes, but he handled that as well. Yeah, he was a tough little dude. He'd not only earned everybody's respect, but also their affection.
On previous hikes, we'd done the naked walk thing. I'd told Wingnut about it one time, and he chose a particular place on the hike to suggest we walk naked. Darren agreed that it was a cool idea. And me? Hey, being nude had never fazed me, and wasn't likely to then. But Mark was a different story. He didn't fancy the idea at all, but relented when he saw that everybody else was getting naked. It was the kinda peer pressure he couldn't argue with. He was way outnumbered.
"Hey, Kyle," he said as he fell into line beside me, "so what happens if someone else comes along and sees all these naked asses?"
"Well," I replied, glancing down at his crotch, and noticing his boner, "they might be as excited as you are."
"Fuck! This is fucking insane! A whole lotta guys walking naked on the fucking mountain!"
"Chill out! I can feel one coming on."
"Ah, Christ, Kyle, this is so fucking lame! I can't walk down here with a hardon!"
"Stop getting para," I laughed. "Look around you. Well, look at Wingnut." The grommet's five-inch woody was hugging his gut. And when Mark inspected the rest of the troop, he could see that Gareth had a mammoth hardon as well. Nobody could've helped but notice his thick, ropey dick pointing straight out.
From where Mark and I were, toward the rear of the line, it looked pretty neat. We [well, I did] had a cool view of a bunch of tight buns, with legs protruding from beneath rucksacks slung over bare shoulders. As it happened, we didn't see anybody else during the afternoon hike, and it was probably just as well. Mark was definitely not comfortable with the idea. Perhaps that had something to do with Gareth giving Mark's schlong the eye on quite a few occasions. Mark was more than adequately hung, to say the least, and had every reason to be proud of his jewels, but, for whatever reason, he hated other dudes gawking at him. He spoke to me about it that night when we were laying in our sleeping bags.
"I guess I've gotta get used to this nakeness thing with you guys."
"Why?"
"Not my style… parading myself in front of guys like that."
"I don't know why you've got a hangup about it. You've got a killer bod, and a cock that a lotta guys would kill to have. Oh," I grinned, "and a cute butt."
"I should've known not to get this convo started with you."
"Look, the guys do it 'cause they can, and not 'cause they're parading. All of us were shy the first time, but you just get used to it."
"Wingnut's not shy."
"Hey," I laughed, "he knows he's loaded in that department, and he likes to show off."
"All that jacking he does?"
"So? Don't you?"
"'Night, Kyle."
"You're gonna have a wet dream."
"Night, Kyle."
"Hehehehe."
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