It was different this time, Ben Ranalli noted after he set the tent up and looked at the pond his campsite was facing. He had been coming here for over forty years, first as a young lad with his folks and then later with his wife and kids. After the kids had grown and moved on there was a brief period when he had visited the place with just his wife, but she had passed a couple of years ago.
He had been reluctant to come back here, because it brought back so many memories. Memories of his wife, who he missed a great deal because she was good company and was more a sister than a spouse. Memories of the kids, off and enjoying lives of their own with their families in other areas of the country.
And then there were memories of his own youth.
The place itself hadn't changed. Brown Tract Pond was a primitive campground run by New York State, and because it had none of the bells and whistles of many campgrounds - no electricity or running water and no motorized craft on the pond - it got a heartier type of camper. With nothing but serenity and the sounds of loons serenading you to sleep, it had always been a special place for Ben.
Taking advantage of the warm July afternoon after setting up the old tent which had served him well for decades, Ben grabbed his towel and swim trunks and headed down the gravel road to the little beach at the end of the pond.
His gait was slower now than in had been in the past, not because his 58 year old body couldn't still move because he was still in good shape, but because he now took time to pay more attention to the surroundings. So many places held memories, and he noted how many of the campsites he and his family had stayed in over the years.
Reaching the little beach which only had a handful of bathers along with a solitary lifeguard, Ben paused as he saw the weathered building set back from the beach itself. The bathhouse. Ben took a deep breath as he looked at the unpainted shed where you could change in and out of your swimwear, and as he approached and looked he realized that above everything else around the place, that building held the most memories.
The bathhouse was just a small facility without lights, a large room with a wall that partially divided the area where there was a bench and cubbyholes for stashing your stuff, and the other area. The showers. Four shower heads with no privacy that you could rinse off under with water no warmer than the pond.
The changing area was deserted, and after Ben changed into his trunks he ducked around the corner to look into the shower section. It was also deserted, with only one shower head trickling water onto the wooden floor. Ben went over to fully close the faucet and as he did he realized that this was the shower stall he had been standing under on that very special day.
************
looking back...
Ben was just a young man back then, and although he had developed early and looked older than he was, he was very naive and unsure of himself. In school he had discovered that talking showers with the guys was fun, and although he liked girls he was learning that he was aroused by the sight of naked guys as well.
Back then that wasn't something you would ever admit, and with Ben being a rather macho kid nobody ever expected that during those showers Ben's eyes were darting around checking out the other guys when no one was watching.
Ben had learned that he wasn't the only one looking either. From the start Ben had figured out that he was well endowed in comparison to most of the guys, and he began to enjoy the double takes and subtle stares his presence got. Since he knew the joys of looking himself, he didn't complain and being a bit of a showoff enjoyed the attention.
Ben knew that guys did things to and with each other but he would never had the guts to suggest the idea to other guys for fear of what their reaction would be so he just looked but he was curious, and when he first saw how wide open the shower room at the campground was he ended up rinsing off a lot in there, enjoying watching and being watched.
This place was different than school because it wasn't just guys his age but there were older men too, men his father's age and even older, and it was in that room that Ben discovered that he enjoyed a physical superiority over them as well. Even though the water was cold, when an old guy would come in and give more than a glance his way Ben would find himself getting hard and would eventually have to shield his swelling organ from view if the other person lingered.
Then that one man came in, a little man with a receding hairline and big glasses. He looked like Wally Cox, a comedian who was on the Hollywood Squares TV show, and when he saw Ben in there he didn't do double takes or subtle peeks. He stared and as he did his hand was down cleaning one particular place, pulling on his slender prong while glancing towards the back to make sure no one else was coming in.
Ben had turned to face the other way while the young man so this and so wasn't aware until the stranger was suddenly right behind him, his wet body against Ben's back and his dick poking him on the hip while his hand reached around Ben.
"Wow, you've really got a big one on you don't you fella?" the man had said after wrapping his hand around Ben's stiffening cock, and as his fist stroked Ben's member he grunted, "I'd love you to stick this thing up my ass - later tonight maybe. You up for it? You want more of this?"
Ben didn't answer because he was cumming. Twenty seconds after the first hand besides his own had touched his manhood he was spurting wildly all over the wall while the stranger was grinding his own boner against Ben's buttock, and the man didn't let go until he was limp.
"9:30 tonight," the man whispered when the sound of people entering the changing room broke up the scene. "We'll have a good time me and you."
Then he was gone, and Ben recalled reaching back and feeling the man's semen on his backside, quickly rinsing it off before exiting the room and top speed.
Safely back at the family campsite Ben still couldn't believe what had happened. He had no intention of going back down there after it got dark, but he still couldn't get over how different it had felt to have another hand jerking him off. How good it felt.
It was after 10 when his folks finally let the campfire go out and went into their trailer, and after Ben said good night and pretended to go into the tent he slept in, once he heard the door close on the trailer Ben scurried down the hill and towards the bathhouse.
The beach and the surrounding area was deserted, and Ben kicked at the sand, certain that he had missed the man, but then he saw the glow of a cigarette behind the bathhouse and walked over.
"I was about ready to give up on you," the man said, offering Ben a cigarette which he declined. "I'm around the other side at #65. You want to go up there with me? Maybe have a beer?"
"A beer?" Ben asked.
"Yeah," the man said, and after noticing the lad reaction added, "You are old enough to drink, aren't you kid?"
"Uh yeah, I like beer," Ben said, and with that the two of them went down the road.
That area of the campground was less popular than the rest of the place, so there were few other campers down that end which was just the way he liked it. "He" being a man named Warren who lived down in Clinton, New York.
What happened up at that campsite was a blur. After being handed a can of Utica Club, Warren wasted no time in kneeling and tugging down Ben's shorts to give the teen his first blow job, and just before Ben came the older man got up from the ground and went up to the picnic table and set a towel over the end of it.
"I'm already lubed," Warren said as he bent over the table and presented his ass to Ben while spreading his legs. "I like it fast and hard."
Ben was lost. He knew what the man wanted but it didn't seem possible, but he went over anyway and spent an uncomfortable minute jabbing around Warren's greasy crack with his dick while the man grew impatient, finally reaching back and guiding Ben to the opening.
"I'm tougher than I look so don't baby me," the man grunted, and somehow the combination of Warren leaning back and Ben pushing forward manged to squeeze the knob into the old man's anus.
Once the head got in, Ben lurched forward and fully impaled himself into the man's ass. It had been like squeezing his cock into a keyhole but once it in the hot cavern clamped his cock like a vice. It didn't last long but it felt good to Ben, and in about a minute he was erupting into the hot bowels.
"You want to give me hips or lips?" Warren asked as he turned around with his dick in his hand. "I don't really get much penetration so head is just as good for me. You are going to reciprocate, aren't you?"
