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From: "rdodger" <rajahdodger@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Rajah Dodger Repost Flood: Change of Focus [mc mf mm various long]
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Date: Fri, 01 Dec 2006 18:10:02 -0500
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Abstract: A creative writing seminar gives new meaning to "getting in
touch with your inner self"

     Change of Focus, by Rajah Dodger <rdodger@hotmail.com>, Copyright
(c) 2001.  All rights reserved, except that electronic not-for-profit
reproduction rights only are explicitly granted with the stipulation
that this authorship and permission note must remain attached.

     "There once was a girl from Nantucket / whose clit was so big she
could..."

     "Nawww..." Jack said, and viciously crumpled the piece of
notepaper before flinging it across his dorm room.  "I'm never going to
pass this flippin' writing course!"

     His roommate, a one-time scholarship student now in his sixth year
and third major, intercepted the paper missile and unfolded it.  He
shook his head sadly.  "That's pretty weak, even for you."

     "Tell me something I don't know, Einstein.  How did you manage to
get through this course anyway, Ken?  I thought you hated writing."

     "I do, man.  Can't stand it."  A light gleamed hidden in the other
man's eye.  "Maybe that's your problem -- you're too focused on the
task and the mechanics.  You know the story of the Foo bird?"

     Jack winced and rolled his eyes.  "I don't want to hear this..."
he warned, but to no avail as his roommate began.  "The Foo bird lives
in the far reaches of the island of Madagascar, and is the only known
example of a species intent on its own extinction.  This happens
because the Foo bird believes that something is trying to climb into
its bottom, and in a single-minded attempt to find the intruder the Foo
bird flies faster and faster in ever-diminishing concentric circles
until it vanishes into its own anus."

     At this point Jack attempted to smother his roommate with a
pillow.

     Some minutes later, when tempers had cooled, Ken picked up the
conversation as if nothing untoward had happened.  "Your main problem
is that you're too focused.  When you're looking at the crankshaft, you
can't get the feel of driving the car.  You need to relax your brain
and come around the back side of the idea in creative writing.  Think
like an artist, not like the next partner at Dewey, Cheatem and Howe."

     Jack shook his head and flopped back onto his bunk.  "You're going
from making no sense to nonsense.  What do you mean, come around the
back side of the idea?  And anyway, I'm nothing if not relaxed after
spending the weekend with Sherry -- I don't think I have a stiff bone
in my entire body."  Sherry was Jack's girlfriend, a fox from one of
the better sororities who had taken a liking to Jack and seemed intent
on working her way through the entire Kama Sutra with him.

     Ken nodded sagely.  "Exactly my point.  You're using up all your
'chi' on that girl."  He leered, "Not that I'd turn her down for a
minute, my friend.  You've got good taste there.  But you need creative
energy for creative writing, and she's leaving you drained not only
physically but psychically.  It's no wonder you can't get anything down
on paper."  He belched, which undercut his effort to sound
professorial.

     Jack shook his head in bewildered disagreement.  "You're saying I
have to give up my sex life just to pass a stupid class?  Man, with
advice like that it's no wonder I'm your eighth roommate in less than
six years."

     Ken sighed, "Oh, you youngsters... I never said you had to give up
Sherry.  You just have to find a way to recharge your batteries, and
keep your brain from focusing so much on the ugly mechanics of writing.
 Now I happen to know of an approach that might work, if you're really
interested.  But it would require you giving up one of your precious
weekends with that lithe sex goddess."

     "Hell," Jack responded, "if you can guarantee me getting through
this class I'd even set you up with Sherry for the weekend."

     Ken chuckled.  "Don't go writing any checks you don't want to
cash..."

     *****

     A couple of days later, Jack was kicking back in the student
commons, sipping at his beer and watching the Cubs, when a woman came
up to him.  "Hi," she said breathlessly, "You're Jack Falken, aren't
you?  I'm your new tutor, Christine, Christine Keeler, but everyone
just calls me Chris."

     Jack looked up without anything clicking other than his hormones.
She was tall, brunette, with a nicely-filled midriff-baring blouse over
low-slung denim jeans.  Intelligent, too, as she apparently recognized
the blank look in his eyes and continued without waiting for him to
respond.  "Your application to the creative energy weekend seminar was
conditionally accepted, and I'm to be your initial tutor, at least
until you've gotten through the orientation and have your feet firmly
on the ground."

     "Conditional?"  Jack didn't remember anything about a seminar,
unless this was the thing Ken had been talking about.  And he wasn't
sure about that word "conditional".  Meanwhile, Chris was bubbling
along at full speed.  "Anyway, I need to do an in-person assessment of
your suitability to our program and your willingness to work.  Can you
arrange to meet me for dinner tonight or tomorrow night?"

     She paused, which gave Jack a chance to try and catch his breath.
All this was going too fast, but after all, he did have to pass that
class, and for a tutor she was certainly easy on the eyes.  He was
supposed to go out to the movies with Sherry this coming weekend, but
she probably wouldn't be upset over one cancellation.

     *****

     They met the next evening at a dark little Italian restaurant not
far from the campus.  Jack put more effort than usual into his
appearance, which made him slightly late getting to dinner.  Chris was
already seated, and he hid his disappointment at finding her in a
simple and demure blue dress.  Their dinner conversation touched on his
career goals, classes, extracurricular interests, and why he thought he
had difficulty writing.  Several times during dinner Jack tried to find
out more about Chris, but each time she deftly turned the inquiry back
to him.  As Jack was finishing the last of his veal, he commented that
he didn't seem to have problems in his other classes, subjects like
accounting, history and pre-law.  It was only in the "creative" writing
tasks that he ran into a blank wall.  That brought a smile to Chris's
face.  "That's quite good," she said encouragingly, "when you recognize
that yourself it usually means we can unlock your creative juices -
with some hard work and a bit of a mental realignment."

     Chris put her napkin down and rose gracefully from her chair.
"Let's skip dessert, shall we?  I think you're going to be a good
candidate for the seminar, and I've got all the paperwork back at my
place.  I've got to run to the little girl's room - when I get back,
why don't you just follow me and we'll get you all set for the
weekend."    She brushed his arm as she rose; her fingers felt cool
against his wrist, and he felt an odd thrill run up his arm.  Jack
flagged the waiter for the check, and by the time Chris came back to
the table he was ready to leave.

     Outside in the parking lot, Jack discovered that her dress was by
no means as demure as it had appeared with her seated.  The skirt hung
teasingly well above the knee, and he almost tripped over the curb for
not watching his own step.  She drove a sleek-looking Lexus, and he
followed her into an unfamiliar and disreputable part of town.  The
neighborhood gave Jack had some concerns about safety, as well as being
able to find his way back.  But when he locked his car and followed her
into her apartment his concerns vanished.  The apartment was upscale
and classy, and Chris pointed him to the couch and coffee table while
she went to get something for them to drink.

     Jack sat down and started to look at the densely filled papers,
distracted momentarily by the sight of Chris's long legs as she headed
for the kitchen.  She returned with two glasses, and they toasted to
education, then to writing, then to creative energy.  Chris sat next to
him on the couch, her leg pressed against his, and helped him wade
through the legalese in the first stack of papers.  Another round of
drinks, and this time when she sat down her skirt rode up to show a
tantalizing glimpse of thighs and shadows.  Another round of papers, an
another round of drinks later, Jack was congratulating himself on
determining that his tutor wasn't wearing a bra, and he was more
focused on trying to figure out whether she was wearing panties than on
reading the papers she handed him.

     Finally the last of the papers was signed and countersigned.
"Good boy!" she purred, and hugged Jack tightly.  A flush of warmth
suffused his body, and he missed what she said as she stood up.  Her
finger caught him under the chin.  "Woolgathering, were we?  I thought
we might celebrate our new relationship properly!"  Jack wobbled to his
feet, suppressing a yawn, and followed her toward the back reaches of
the apartment.

     *****

     "Well, well, well... the sleeper awakes!"  That was Ken's voice.
Why was he hearing Ken's voice?

     Jack opened his eyes.  He was in his own bed.  He shook his head
experimentally; nothing fell out and he didn't have a headache.  Last
night's events were just too fuzzy to recall in any detail.  "What time
did I get in, anyway," he asked his roommate.

     Ken laughed.  "Four in the morning, my friend, and I had to
threaten you with violence to keep you from singing Barry Manilow songs
for more than thirty seconds."

     Ken directed Jack's attention to a large manila envelope on the
breakfast table, which turned out to hold Jack's instructions for the
weekend.  The list was short: meet the group Friday at 4pm by the
campus store, bring toiletries, necessary medications, comfortable
footwear, loose fitting sweatpants, necessary underwear and three
shirts.  He looked a second time, then checked in the envelope as a
thought occurred to him.  No, there wasn't anything mentioned about
money.  Come to think of it, from what little Jack could recall of the
previous evening the topic of payment had never come up.  He asked Ken,
who mumbled something about arts groups and literacy grants.

     There was one strange item in the instructions.  Participants were
directed to wear clothing designed for comfort, and they specifically
barred briefs for men and athletic bras or pantyhose for women.  Jack
bristled at the restriction; he liked the way briefs showed off his
assets.  Oh well, a little shopping trip wouldn't hurt him.

     Thinking about briefs brought the previous night back to Jack's
mind.  His tutor had not, as it turned out, been wearing panties.  A
sudden rush of blood into his groin reminded him he needed to call
Sherry.   He rearranged his shorts and reached for the phone.  She
wasn't terribly put out about his canceling their weekend movie,
although she expressed some surprise at his reason.  "A writing
seminar? Jack, it's unlike you to be so... studious."  She emphasized
the "oo" sound in "studious", holding it long enough for Jack to
picture the way her lips were pursed as she giggled and hung up.

     Was Ken staring at him?  He turned around suspiciously, but his
roommate was merely sitting in his chair, smiling faintly, headphones
over his ears and a thick book opened in his lap.  The lack of sleep,
Jack thought, must be playing tricks on him.  Anyway, between the
confused images of last night and his conversation with Sherry, he
needed a cold shower.

     *****

     Friday afternoon found Jack standing nervously by the bookstore,
his gear in a backpack (including the newly purchased boxer shorts).
By the time 4pm rolled around, there were a half dozen students
gathered, two other men and three women, none of them anxious to break
the common silence.  At the stroke of four an SUV arrived with Chris
driving and an athletic-looking man in the front passenger seat.  She
introduced him as Greg, another tutor, and they quickly got everyone
into the vehicle with the guys in the back seat and the girls in the
middle.  They started off, the radio playing some foreign sounding
music mixed with white noise and fading oddly in and out.

     Jack dozed for a good deal of the drive, as did his fellow
passengers.  They left the city behind and entered an area with tall
trees as the afternoon gave way to dusk.  When the van finally came to
a halt, everyone piled out to stretch their legs, and Jack realized he
had no idea where they were.  Trees, bushes, an open area with a large
grill and several long tables were visible nearby.  At one side was a
wooden cabin of recent construction, and the sound of a river echoed in
the air.  "Pretty," said one of the girls.  "Pretty bleak" grumbled one
of the guys.  Chris and Greg wasted no time in chivvying them into a
line outside the wooden cabin for "check-in and team assignment".
There were already a number of people in the line, evidently from the
three other vans parked nearby.

     Inside the cabin, when it was Jack's turn, he was greeted by an
older couple who introduced themselves as Carl and Maria Weber, "sort
of den parents at Camp Get-in-Touch".  They went through his bag,
checked his newly-bought boxer shorts, and confiscated his CD player
and dress belt, telling him he would get those back at the end of the
session.  They also asked him a few questions to corroborate a medical
form that he didn't remember filling out.  Finally, both welcomed Jack
to the seminar and expressed their hope that he would find the
experience insightful and mind-opening.  Carl shook his hand, and Maria
gave him a very thorough welcoming hug before they sent him out of the
cabin.

     Conversation was scant among the group as they waited for everyone
to get through check-in.  What little talk there was revealed that they
spanned the range from freshman to senior, and all had coursework
problems of one sort or another.  Eventually the last of their group
came through the cabin, and Chris and Greg joined them holding
clipboards.  Chris spoke up, "Okay gang, I've got Jack, Martha and Tom,
and Greg will have Sally, Nate and Shavonne.  My group follow me and
we'll get you set up in our cabin."

     The brunette set out into the woods, and Jack and his new
cabinmates followed uncertainly while eying each other speculatively.
Martha was a statuesque redhead who radiated confidence and took the
walk with long hip-rolling strides.  Jack found himself wondering what
she could possibly need from the seminar.  Tom, on the other hand, was
a thin bookish type with glasses and looked the type to need help at
most everything.  Their cabin, when they arrived, was a low-slung
affair with an undecorated wood floor and spare furniture, the only
note of comfort being the four large beds, two against opposite walls.
"Where's the bathroom," whined Tom.  Chris waved a hand toward the
cabin door.  "Those are outside; you'll get that in the main camp tour
and orientation.  We'll go there in a few minutes, but right now just
grab a bed and put your things on it."  Tom slunk across to the
farthest bed on the right, muttering under his breath about privacy.
Jack took a bed on the left wall to avoid Tom, and Martha took the bed
nearest the door, sitting down and bouncing experimentally.  "Nice
mattress," was her only comment.  Chris seemed to find the appraisal
humorous.  "By the time you get to bed, you'll appreciate it.  Okay,
folks, it's a short weekend and you've all got a lot to do.  Let's go!"

     The camp extended much farther than the greeting area promised.
The grounds included a swimming pool, frontage on the river, a
well-groomed soccer field, several camp-simple restrooms (which Tom
gratefully availed himself of), and a roomy combination meeting hall
and covered dining area.  There they found some thirty other students
gathered, and everyone found seats while the Webers and the counselors
took the front table.

     Carl Weber came to the podium.  "Welcome, folks.  We're glad you
could join us for this weekend retreat.  All of you are having problems
in focus, one way or another, and we're going to give you some tools to
help you accomplish what you want in life.  Or at least in school."  He
chuckled at that, and his audience did likewise.

     "You've all had the camp tour and gotten your cabin assignments,
so we'll have a hike and some warm-up exercises before dinner.  The
Romans had a saying, "mens sana in corpore sano", a sound mind in a
sound body, and we adhere to that philosophy here.  During the weekend
you'll probably experience a number of activities that are new to you,
from breathing exercises to different ways to experience your
surroundings.  Pay attention to your counselors, and feel free to ask
questions, but remember that this can only work for you if you're
prepared to have an open mind and work hard.  Remember, we're all here
for the same thing - to help you be all you can!"

     And with that the meeting was dismissed.  The groups separated in
various directions through the woods to the various clearings scattered
around the grounds.  Chris quickly rounded up her group, and Greg's
group joined them for what turned into a strenuous five-mile hike
through the woods.  Even Martha looked winded by the time they returned
to the camp.  They followed their leaders to the meeting hall, where
dinner was already waiting.  The food was spare but tasty, heavy on the
vegetables and fiber, surprisingly filling, and apparently the seminar
was to be meat-free.

     After dinner the groups retired to their various cabins.  Chris
gave them all ten minutes to bask in the after-effects of their meal,
and then had the three cabinmates sit on the floor in the middle of the
cabin.  "This is an introduction to meditation," she told them as she
slid a CD into a small stereo.  Muted sounds of sitar and tabla echoed
in the room.  Chris circled around and between them, slipping a soft
blindfold around each student's head.  Jack smiled as she put his on;
he could tell she was wearing that same perfume from when he had met
her over dinner.  The next half hour was a somewhat fuzzy lesson in
floating, focusing, hearing the music and not hearing the music.
"Meditation," Chris said at one point, "is about focusing and losing
focus simultaneously.  It's like the old joke about being told not to
think about an elephant.  The only way to succeed is to allow the
elephant into you so that you can get past it."  At least half of this
was gobbledygook to Jack, but he was trying to keep an open mind.

     "I'm going to give each of you a focus phrase now.  The next time
you do meditation practice, I want you to repeat your phrase until the
words lose their meaning and just surround you with sound.  Tom, you're
'Scent of Green Papaya'.  Martha, you're 'Sliding on Silk'.  Jack,
you're 'Hot Apple Pie'.  Now I want each of you to repeat your phrase,
and keep on until you forget I'm here."

     This, thought Jack, is just plain silly.  Still and all, he went
along with the gag, and a strange thing happened.  First, he did forget
about Chris and the other students; it began to seem as if he were
alone, floating in the universe, a babble of meaningless syllables
echoing in his head.  Then, as sudden and sharp as a flashbulb, he saw
meaning everywhere.  He could picture the Earth and planets orbiting
the Sun.  He saw the beauty in the whorls of his fingerprints.  He
understood women.  The tax code made sense... well, almost.  He felt a
touch on the back of his neck, and sensed a familiar perfume.  Somehow,
he realized, Chris knew that he'd gotten it.  He felt oddly proud at
the accomplishment, as a student praised by his teacher.

     After a time, Chris went around the room removing the blindfolds.
Jack and the other two each stood up and shook their heads to regain
their bearings.  A low gong sounded in the camp, and Chris nodded her
head.  "Time to get ready for bed; we've got lights-out and one last
exercise, then you'll be up early in the morning!"  Somewhat subdued by
their own individual experiences, the three roommates quietly went
through their things, hiked to the restroom facility for tooth brushing
and other needs, and returned to the cabin.  Tom had taken his pajamas
and changed in the restroom since there wasn't any private area in the
cabin.  Jack, on the other hand, planned to sleep in his sweatpants and
shower in the morning.

     And then there was Martha.  She stood up by her bed and turned her
back to the others, then smoothly pulled off her t-shirt showing a
broad expanse of evenly tanned bra-less backside.  Bending over the
bed, she slid her panties down her long legs and waited just long
enough to make it obvious that she knew everyone was looking at her
before pulling a thin nightgown over her head.  Jack clucked his tongue
admiringly then rolled over and was asleep by the time his head hit the
pillow.

     Somewhere in the middle of the night, or at least so it seemed,
something cold and wet woke Jack by running along his spine.  "Ice
cube?" he grumbled in the dark.  "Good boy," came the melodic sound of
Chris's voice, "let's see how we're all doing!"  A moment later, Jack
heard Tom whine "Ow... emery board? And why on my ear?"  There was
silence for a long while.  Suddenly a piercing shriek tore through the
cabin from the direction of Martha's bed.  Chris could be heard in the
echoes, quietly commenting "Yes, but what did it *feel* like?"
Martha's response was low, intense, and unintelligible to the two men.

     Chris continued to make the rounds of the room with odd items
pressed to unexpected places, occasioning puzzlement from Jack and at
least one embarrassed squeal from Tom.  Finally, she pronounced herself
satisfied with the results and told them to go back to sleep.

     Jack slept, but not well.  His dreams were mostly unformed and
unsettling.  The cabin seemed too warm, even after he finally gave in
to necessity and stripped down to bare skin on the sheets.  Images of
apple pies floated in his head, and the sensation of riding a horse.
Toward morning, though, things took a turn for the better.  He found
himself in a glade near the camp, and Chris was sitting next to him.
She moved into his arms, his head spinning with her perfume.  Holding
his head with both hands, she kissed him deeply; her tongue seemed
impossibly long, teasing along the roof of his mouth and pressing
against the back of his throat.  Meanwhile her fingers were dancing
along the back of his neck, little pleasurable jolts of electricity
hopping down his spine and centering in his groin.  Then suddenly she
was no longer in his lap, but sitting behind him with her legs wrapped
around his and her nipples hard little points in his back.  Her
fingernails were teasing his own rudimentary nipples; he wanted to move
but her legs held his down.  Someone gave him a glass of milk, and he
drank as fast as he could but it still spilled, running down his
chest...

     *****

     Morning came far too soon.  Jack's nose was stuffy, and he had a
horrid case of morning mouth, complete with thick tongue.  The outdoor
air didn't seem to be agreeing with him.  Worse, when he got out of bed
his gut gave one premonitory twinge and he realized he desperately
needed to get to the bathroom.  He streaked for the cabin door,
forgetting his lack of clothes, and made barefoot tracks through the
dew-covered grass until he got to the facility.  He said a silent
prayer of thanks at finding it vacant, and took only enough time to
lock the door behind him before leaping the last few feet to the
toilet.

     About ten minutes later, he pressed the flush lever one last time
and staggered to the sink to wash his haggard face.  Something at
dinner must have violently disagreed with him.  Worse, his bottom was
throbbing; the attack must have triggered a case of hemorrhoids.  Just
what he needed to start the day.

     After he cleaned up the bathroom, he walked, bowlegged and
suddenly aware of his nudity, back to the cabin.  The other students
were gone to breakfast, but Chris was still there.  She took a look at
his face and asked with concern, "Jack, what happened?"  Despite his
embarrassment he gave her the whole story.  With a no-nonsense tone in
her voice, she gave him directions to see the nurse.  "And don't worry,
I'll let your morning session instructor know you'll be a bit late."

     Jack put on a clean pair of boxers and sweat pants, and headed
across the campsite.

     The nurse turned out to be Maria, the woman who ran the campsite
with her husband.  She listened to Jack with a soothing and sympathetic
manner, and then asked him politely to bend over the exam table and
drop his pants.  He did so, with the usual unsettled feeling a man has
when hearing the snap of latex gloves behind him.  Her touch was
surprisingly delicate as she applied a cream to the irritated area.
Next she put a cool hand in the middle of his back, murmured "please
stay as still as possible," and slid a finger fully inside him.  Jack
quickly developed an erection.  Every time Maria moved her finger, Jack
felt another pulse of blood run through his swollen cock.  The
examination continued until he finally had to close his eyes and
surrender to the inevitable; his ass bit down tightly on Maria's finger
as his balls spasmed and squirted their sticky load between his belly
and the table. He could feel his face flush hot with embarrassment, but
Maria merely waited for his bottom to unclench before continuing.

     Finally, she withdrew her finger and Jack heard the telltale
'snick' of the latex glove popping off her hand.  "That must have been
a bad one this morning," she said with some empathy,  "You need to put
this ointment on three times a day for a couple of days and you'll be
fine.  I'll get you started."   Jack felt her slide the glob of cream
between his cheeks and work it inside the tight ring of his sphincter.
It burned a little, but that passed quickly and turned into a more
general warmth, hard to ignore but not unpleasant.

     He stood there, getting used to the sensation, as Maria went to
the washbasin to clean herself up, then returned and handed Jack a damp
washcloth and the tube of ointment.  "I'm sure you'd like a little
privacy to clean up," she said, smiling.  Jack nodded thankfully,
waiting until the door was closed to stand up and clean the drying
semen off his stomach and cock.  He got dressed, took the ointment, and
went quickly out of the exam room and back to camp.

     *****

     His morning class was yoga and aerobics, and he found the group
stretching in a dell near the river.  In the absence of formal exercise
clothes, everyone had stripped down to either underwear or nothing at
all.  Jack joined them in a series of deep knee bends; he was
distracted by the effect those had on his medicated bottom until he got
into the spirit of the workout.  After a while he had worked up a sweat
to match his fellow students, and the instructor led them to the river
for floating exercises.  This consisted of floating on your back and
trying to stay in one place relative to the riverbank using the least
amount of energy.  Jack found it surprisingly easy.  In fact, he almost
fell asleep twice during the practice.

     Next on the schedule was lunch.  Jack would have liked a shower
first, but the instructor had thoughtfully brought towels so nobody had
to get their clothes wet.  In the dining area, Jack decided to take the
prudent course and restrict himself to soup.  Conversation today was
much quieter than it had been the previous evening.  Everyone seemed to
be only halfway attentive to the meal, as if their attention was
distracted by something inside that only they could see.

     The afternoon class was creative imagery in another meadow.  The
students were mixed from different cabins, and his partners in this
exercise were a thin blonde named Becky, an athletic-looking Hispanic
who answered to Orlando, and a well-padded redhead who called herself
"Jade, as in Jewelry".  Carl, the camp's den father, was their
instructor and he quickly got the session under way.

     "I want you all to sit or lie down comfortably, and cover your
eyes with these handkerchiefs," he explained, "then we'll do some free
association."  Jack folded his legs Indian-fashion while the others
found their own preferred position.  When all of them were ready, Carl
called out "Fruit!"  Becky came up with "Pineapple", Jack said "Banana"
for no particular reason, and Orlando added "Melons".  Jack looked from
Orlando to Jade, and decided the other guy's mind wasn't completely on
the task at hand.  Jade's response was "Mango", and next Carl prompted
with "Vegetable" which drew suggestions of Broccoli, Cucumber, Carrot
and Squash.  Several more exchanges in this mode followed, leaving Jack
completely bemused as to what they could be accomplishing.

     After what seemed like a short time, but turned out to be nearly
an hour, Carl pronounced himself satisfied and sent the students off
for a quick break.  Jack took the opportunity to apply the second dose
of the ointment that Maria had given him.  He shifted his feet
restlessly as the cream sent the same burst of heat through his
insides, then went off to continue his day.  The last afternoon session
was led by Chris, who led Jack and a dozen others hiking through the
camp and into the woods, finally arriving in a softly grass-cushioned
bower.  "Sensory awareness," she said as everyone got comfortable, "is
about feeling, not about intellect.  Everyone please remove your
clothes and find a place to lie down.  Don't worry," she chuckled
seeing some anxious looks, "we run a bug-free campsite here."

     There was a rush of bustling activity, collisions and apologies
until everybody got settled.  "Feel the grass beneath you, not just as
a carpet, but as individual blades, each with its own edge against your
skin.  Find the places where the ground still has the damp coolness of
dew.  Let your arms and hands float by your side; let your mind relax
while the sensations come in."

     Jack was having a hard time following the instructions.  For one
thing, his head was on a hard spot in the ground.  For another, despite
what Chris had said he was sure he felt something crawling up his
balls.  He wriggled to try and dislodge whatever it was, but succeeded
only in moving himself so that his asscheeks were snuggled up against a
tree root.  He didn't want to be the only one complaining, though, so
he did his best to relax.  The afternoon sun and breeze were certainly
comforting, and after a bit he found that he could indeed pick out
individual blades of grass against his back and legs.  He could even
tell which of his chest hairs was being stirred by the wind.  His eyes
lidded over, and he let the warmth of the sun cover him like a blanket.
 Stray puffs of air played tag from his head to his toes, and back up
between his legs.  The grass beneath him shifted and twitched like a
living rug.

     The next thing he knew, Chris was chucking him under the chin.
"Hey there," she said smiling, "I don't think sleeping qualifies as
awareness!"  Jack looked around and saw the other students already up,
around and mostly dressed.  He blushed and pulled himself quickly to
his feet as the group got ready to head back to main camp for the
evening.  Chris explained that they'd have a bit of time to clean up
before dinner, and that after dinner there would be a full camp meeting
for demonstrations and awards.

     As the group hiked back, Jack wondered what kind of awards could
be given out.  He hadn't seen anything in his classes that resembled a
test.  He eventually gave it up as a waste of energy, and joined in the
lines for the cleanup facilities.

     Dinner was - no surprise - pasta and vegetables.  Jack wondered if
there was supposed to be a connection between avoiding meat and being
creative.  After the meal, Carl and Maria gave a brief speech about the
weekend being successful and reminded the cabin leaders that the
recognition ceremony would start promptly in an hour.  When they got
back to the cabin, Jack was tired and took a quick nap.  His other
cabin companions likewise seemed to want to reserve their energy.  Only
Chris seemed excited, watching them with an "I know a secret" look on
her face.

     *****

     The haunting, bone-chilling sound of an oboe playing an Eastern
melody floats through the air.  Chris gathered up her charges and
accompanied them through the dusky twilight across the campgrounds to
an open-air amphitheatre.  Jack and the others took up places on the
hillside and waited to see what the big build-up was about, while Chris
headed elsewhere.  Down at the base of the hill was a small table with
two chairs, some papers and trophies, a pitcher of water, a basket of
fruit, a boom box, a standing microphone, a video camera, and an
upright wooden frame resembling a reinforced doorframe.

     There wasn't much time to wonder about that, however, as Carl and
Maria entered the field of view, followed by Chris, Greg and the other
cabin leaders.  They were all wearing something like academic gowns,
and would have fit in well at a college ceremony.  Carl stepped to the
microphone and began the proceedings, thanking everyone for their hard
work and participation.  After that, Maria took the stage and flipped a
switch on the boom box.  As the odd melodies echoed off the surrounding
trees, she announced recognition of seminar participants for such
obviously gag prizes as most return visits to the salad bar, fastest
100-meter sprint to the restroom (Jack was very glad not to find
himself the winner there), and longest time balancing on one foot.

     After the "winners" had come down, claimed their certificates, and
headed back up the hill, Carl once again took over the mike.  "Every
time we run this seminar, some of our attendees surprise both us and
themselves by demonstrating great talents in a few specialized areas.
You were all accepted here with two things in mind; what we could do
for you, and what you could do for others.  We're all very proud that
three of you have earned the unanimous recognition of our teaching
staff for outstanding achievement in both areas of focus.  Would
someone escort Orlando out here?"

     At this point the Hispanic from Jack's free association exercise
came out, accompanied by a petite counselor from one of the other
cabins, both of them in the academic gowns.  As the music played, the
counselor unzipped the front of her gown showing that she was nude
beneath.  She turned to Orlando and stood between him and the audience
to remove his gown, then stepped aside.  A soft gasp came from the
gathered crowd.  Orlando's body had been oiled until it gleamed in the
soft lights, and he sported a massive cock in full rampant erection.  A
few of the observers whistled in appreciation.  The counselor ran her
hand under his balls and up the shaft; her hand could barely wrap
around the head.

     Maria pulled a chair up, and she and the counselor guided Orlando
into the chair with his legs spread on either side.  With barely a
trace of hesitance, the counselor climbed up into his lap.  Orlando
held his cock in place while the other girl positioned herself, and
finally, she began inching downward.  The music faded, and for moments
the only sounds were the chirping of crickets and the audible panting
of the counselor.

     Finally, and not without murmurs of disbelief from the audience,
the small woman was fully impaled, her bottom resting between the
bigger man's legs.  With unexpected grace, Orlando now stood up, his
passenger wrapping her legs around his back as she held onto him.
Standing in front of the audience, he sank quickly to his knees,
drawing a muffled squeak from his passenger, then rose back up.  He
repeated the calisthenics, each time with more alacrity, as his
passenger writhed against him and bucked up and down.  Finally she
shrieked out in erotic ecstasy and dug her nails across his back
leaving long red trails.  As she did so, Orlando stood up straight and
tall, and the muscles of his legs went taut and starkly outlined.  His
ass clenched visibly, and the girl atop him gave out one last choked
gasp before collapsing limply in his arms.

     Maria and the other counselor came out again, and each held the
still-shaking girl by shoulder and hip, sliding her off the big man as
his cock popped free, shining with their mingled juices and only
half-soft.  There was some soft applause and a few whistles from the
audience.

     As the first group left the center area, Greg from the other cabin
led a nude and blindfolded Martha into view.  Jack blinked twice; the
change in Martha from the woman who had blithely shown off her nude
body in his cabin was striking.  This Martha's body had been oiled in
the same way that Orlando's had, and showed in its entire ripe splendor
from the strong calf muscles to the proudly erect nipples.  Greg
fastened her wrists to cuffs at the upper corners of the doorframe, and
her ankles to matching ones at the base.

     As Greg left, another counselor came out from the shadows.  This
woman was dressed in the academic gown, and carried a small bag with
her.  She reached out to pinch one brown-tipped nipple, drawing a long
sigh from Martha.  Smiling, the woman began pinching Martha's nipples
and rolling the ball of her thumb against them.  Martha responded by
arching her back and pressing her breasts forward to the teasing hands.

     The other woman stepped back, drawing a pout from her bound
target, and knelt to pull a small nine-tailed cat from her bag.  She
moved around behind Martha, and all watching were able to tell when the
little implement made its first impact.  Martha's mouth opened wide,
but no sound came forth. For some minutes, the woman alternately
stroked and whipped the leather implement across Martha's backside as
Martha's face showed both the anticipation and the impact.

     Finally, the woman dropped the cat and stood behind Martha,
sliding her arms around the hanging girl on either side.  She moved her
hands sinuously down across bare belly to the girl's inner thighs,
pulling her legs apart as a spotlight came into focus.  Martha's
pudenda were obscenely swollen, dark red, visibly dripping.  The woman
waved a hand and two of the counselors came over to release Martha from
the frame.  They laid her down, feet toward the audience, legs splayed
widely.  The woman squatted over Martha's face and lowered herself down
slowly, balancing on one hand while her other hand pinched and tugged
at Martha's nipples.

     The air of quiet intensity in the audience was palpable.  All eyes
were on the two women, one rubbing her cunt hard against the other's
face, the other lying spread-eagled, hips hunching fervently upward
into empty air.  The woman on Martha's face came, crying out into the
night as her body stiffened.  When her eyes opened again, she
dramatically licked her index finger, reached outward, and flicked
Martha's clit just once.  The reaction was explosive; Martha nearly
threw the other woman off her face as she bucked and writhed in the
throes of a massive orgasm.

     Eventually Martha collapsed, limp and sweat-slick, and the other
counselors came from either side to assist her out of sight.

     Now, Carl and Maria took center stage again to announce the
presentation of the session's special recognition, the camper who made
the most unexpected progress.  Heads in the audience could be seen
turning this way and that, wondering who this unknown person was.  Jack
had the same thought, when Chris showed up and took him by the hand.
Shocked, Jack followed her without hesitation.  She led him silently
down through the audience to the center of the glade, and stripped him
of his clothing, all the time stroking his shoulders and settling him
as she would a nervous filly.  "Close your eyes, Jack, and float with
me..."

     His eyes closed, then opened again unfocused.  His muscles
relaxed, and he stood calmly as the unknowing center of attention.
"Feel the Earth Mother enter into you," Chris prompted, and his cock
jerked by steps to its full glory.  Her scent surrounded him, and in
his mind he was back in those hazy dreams.  Chris spoke, her words
taking on the singsong quality of ritual, and her hand slipped down
between his bottom cheeks.  The rush of blood to his phallus made his
knees half-buckle, so that Chris and another counselor had to help him
stand upright.

     As they held him in place, Carl joined them and with quiet dignity
slipped his robe from his shoulders.  For a man his age, he was in
excellent shape.  Carl lay down on the ground between Jack's feet, and
Chris and the other counselor held the dazed man by the arms and sides
easing him downward until he made contact with the older man's upright
cock.

     Jack felt the touch at his bottom, and he spread his legs in an
unconscious but well-trained reaction, his anus widening and snapping
against the entering tip.  Jack hunched down, his mouth gaping open,
and worked his way further by fractions of an inch, bobbing and
twisting like an Indian fakir until he was seated in the older man's
lap, his bottom filled and his breath coming in quick panting gasps.

     Jack's mind floated in an erotic haze, Chris's perfume still deep
in his mind, the feel of her finger exploring his bottom as he parted
his legs further.  A warm breath passed over his lips, and once more he
was in the lust-fevered dream as that long erotic kiss pinned him in
place, her tongue probing the reaches of his palate...

     The watching audience could not know that Jack was yearning for
his lover's tongue; what they saw was Orlando, his cock still gleaming
from his earlier encounter, placing the tip at Jack's lips.  Jack
reached lovingly around the Hispanic man's upper legs to caress the
other man's ass, pulling his cock inside Jack's mouth.  Jack's body
moved in a hundred different directions, and the two other men followed
his lead in a dance with only one possible conclusion, a mutual
explosion from above and below, matched by the thick slow spurting of
semen from Jack's untouched cock as the audience burst into spontaneous
applause.

     Maria, Chris and a few other counselors joined the three men on
the stage as the audience left by ones, twos and threes to their
cabins.  In only a brief time, the glade was once again empty save for
the indentations in the grass and a musky scent permeating the air.

     ***

     Jack was in the glade again, only he knew now that he was
dreaming.  Still, it was a pleasant dream and he had no desire to wake
up.  He was swimming, and the water around him was alive.  It kissed
his skin as he moved through it, it grabbed and dragged at his cock, it
suckled at his toes.

     Chris's perfume washed over him, and he felt her cool hands once
again slide down his back and into the space between his rear cheeks.
Her fingers applied cream to his stretched hole, and he lifted his ass
up to spread his knees automatically.  A puff of warm breath teased the
proffered entrance, but his instructor had other activities in mind.
She cupped his rapidly filling shaft in her hand, and helped him turn
over onto his back.  As Jack lay there, half awake and half in the
erotic dream that had consumed him, Chris straddled his hips and slid
onto his cock then rode him slowly for what seemed like an hour.
Eventually they both came, and she collapsed on top of him with her
full breasts bouncing against his chest.

     *****

     Sunday morning started with the shrill trumpet sound of Reveille
echoing through the camp.  Chris zipped through the cabin slapping the
tired students on their respective rumps.  "Time to get up, kids.
Polar bear swim, then we hit the running path!"  Thankfully she was
only kidding about the morning swim, but five minutes later they were
joining the other campers in a 20-minute jog around the camp, beside
the river, and finally to the meal hall.

     Jack was still tired; he'd been too sleepy last night to remember
much of the recognition ceremony, and he still seemed to have cobwebs
across his brain.  The morning exercise helped a lot.  Jack looked
around as he munched on his pancakes, and noticed that the hall seemed
less crowded than the previous day.  He looked more carefully, and sure
enough there were fewer people than he remembered.  For one, his
cabinmate Martha wasn't there.  Before he could give the matter much
thought, though, Carl ascended to the podium for a going-away speech.
Certificates of attendance, duly marked as "suitable for framing", were
handed out, and in short order the stragglers finished their food and
were chivvied off to their cabins for pack-up and checkout.

     As Jack waited in line for the van to take him back to school, he
kept having the oddest sensation that people were looking at him.  Yet
whenever he turned around, everyone was engaged in normal conversation.
 He shook his head; anxiety about his writing class must be creeping
back in.  Shortly afterward, Chris and Greg drove up and took their
passengers back on the road.  Just as on the way out, the odd music was
playing on the stereo, and Jack took the opportunity to catch up on his
sleep.  For some reason he felt dog-tired this morning.

     When he finally got back to his own room, ensconced in familiar
surroundings, Jack booted his computer and took a shot at the writing
assignment.  To his great surprise, he zipped through it in no time and
with hardly any effort.  Three pages later, he had a printout that was
undoubtedly the best writing of his college career.  He whistled
softly, and decided to give Sherry a call to celebrate.  Before he
could do that, though, the back bedroom door opened and Ken came out.
"Hey, roomie," he boomed out, "how did the weekend go?"  Jack couldn't
restrain himself; he showed Ken the printout and gushed about how
amazing the weekend was.  "And the oddest thing is that I would have
sworn all weekend that we weren't doing anything to help my writing.  I
tell you, Ken, I owe you a big one for this!"

     Ken's response was a muted chuckle, and the enigmatic comment, "I
think I've already been paid."  He reached out and stroked a spot
behind Jack's left ear, and whispered something only half-intelligible.
 The change in Jack was both sudden and subtle; his face became more
placid, his nostrils flared and his breathing deepened.  Ken smiled,
and this time it was the smile of the predator.  He unbuckled his belt
and slid his pants and briefs to the floor.  "Here you go, Jack, do
your thing!"  Jack smiled like a baby looking at candy, and massaged
Ken's balls and rising cock.  Pursing his lips, he moved his face
forward smoothly to take Ken's length easily while his free hand worked
its way between Ken's asscheeks.  It was only a few minutes before Ken
pumped a load into Jack's willing mouth, filling it until thick strands
leaked out one corner and down onto Jack's knee.

     The sound of slow applause broke the subsequent tableau.  "Damn,"
said Sherry, "I swear the boy's a natural."  Ken grinned at her nude
form, his cock popping free from Jack's mouth.  Sherry had obviously
been masturbating furiously while watching the two men; her vulva was
swollen and dark red, and her nipples were standing out like firm
erasers.  "He's good, all right," Ken agreed, "would you like to try
out the other end?"

     "No thanks," Sherry said as she closed the distance between them.
"I'm sure he's trained as well as your other roommates ended up.  Right
now I need cock and I need it bad, so you'd better not have given him
everything!"  She paused, and turned toward Jack who was kneeling
quietly in the middle of the room, his eyes unfocused.  "Go do your
homework, sweet Jack, and we'll talk about your trip later."  Sherry
grabbed Ken by his cock and practically dragged him back into the
bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

     The sound seemed to rouse Jack, who got up from the floor as if
nothing untoward had happened.  He went over to his computer and
started writing.  The sounds from the back bedroom percolated through
to him, and he paused to reflect on what a lucky guy he was.  It
sounded like Ken was finally getting lucky too.  Maybe he would set his
roommate up with Sherry; that would be a nice thing to do, kind of like
paying Ken back for helping Jack pass his writing course.

     Life was good.

***** {END} ***** Completed 2001-12-25, 8353 words

Copyright (c) 2001 Rajah Dodger (rdodger@hotmail.com)

This story has appeared on line at Literotica.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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