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Archive name: change.txt (M+/F+, bi, college-highjinks)
Authors name: Rojah Dodger (rdodger@hotmail.com)
Story title : Change of Focus

--------------------------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------------------------
 
Change of Focus (M+/F+, bi, college-highjinks)
By Rojah Dodger (rdodger@hotmail.com)

***

"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 backside 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 backside 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.

///// Completed 12-25-2001 by Rajah Dodger 
rdodger@hotmail.com

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 23