Hi. It's James again. (You can call me Jamie, if you like.)

A lot of stuff has happened since I told you about my "straight" buddies and our horny camping trip at Frog Lake. I did mention, I think, that my best friend Jack had phoned to see if I wanted to go back to Frog Lake again the following weekend, didn't I? And that I'd agreed? Yes, I think that was the last thing I told you. Well, the situation changed fast!

My first inkling of it was next morning, when I logged in to Facebook before going to work. Two different guys I know had written on my 'wall.' One message said: "We know what you did last weekend. (wink)" and the second, by a different guy, said "Hear you had a gay ol' time last weekend!"

Had one of my camping buddies blabbed? It looked that way! But it wasn't until that evening that I found out for sure. My sort-of girlfriend Alanna phoned. She was mad as a hornet.

"Janie told me what you and Jack and Sandy and Brent did last weekend! You're disgusting! I never want to see you again!" And she slammed the phone down.

Janie was her next-door neighbour, a real gossip-monger. Somehow Janie had heard that me and my buddies had "played around" with each other.

I immediately phoned each of them, to ask whether they had told anyone. Each of them denied it, all had received similar comments in one way or another, suggestions that someone knew and told others.

Brent, in particular, was quite panicky. He was worried that people would think he was a faggot. Jack, too, the great athlete and macho man, was also concerned about his image.

But in the end, after lots of calls back and forth, all four of us decided on the full-frontal attack approach to the rumours. We would ignore them and go camping again anyway!

And I had been thinking of splitting up with Alanna, anyway. I was more interested in maybe having some sort of relationship with Sandy - or even Jack. I wanted a boyfriend, not a girlfriend!

So Saturday afternoon, we set out once more for the lake. We were a little late leaving, because both Brent and I were working on floats in the annual Sea Fair Parade which was the official start to the town's Sea Fair celebrations.

We rode in Brent's station-wagon once more to Duck Lake where the trail into Frog Lake began. It was a hot day, and a couple of times the wagon overheated on steep grades. We saw no other cars on the road in, and there were none in the parking area at Duck Lake. We knew we would be all alone for the weekend. Everyone else was at Sea Fair.

It was all the excuse we needed to strip down to our boots and socks as soon as we parked, stuffing our clothes into our back-packs. Brent wanted to try to find out what was wrong with his car, that the rad kept boiling, so to shut him up, Jack, who was a bit of a mechanic, took a look under the hood for him. He soon declared there was nothing that we could do about it right now, that Brent needed to buy a new radiator cap, and so we set out on our trek in to Frog Lake.

This time in, we were travelling light, but we were loaded down with an extra tent. Why we brought two along, I have no idea, but someone must have thought it would be a good idea. But it wasn't heavy, and we took turns carrying the tents, and the shady walk along the sun-speckled trail among firs and cedars was soothing.

The walk in takes about 40 minutes, and by the time we got there it was late afternoon. On the way in, we talked about everything but the rumours that were flying round town about us, and where they could have come from. We did talk about sex, however, as all guys will, but avoided talking about the fun we had had the previous weekend. We didn't play around or anything, although all of us had woodies most of the time though the walk and through the hilarious production of erecting the two tents once we arrived at Frog Lake and chose a flat spot near the edge of the forest.

Our camp work done, we all took a dip in the lake. Because it is so shallow, it is quite a warm lake, especially at this western end, even though it is fed by melting snow from the mountains. Brent claimed to be worried about getting leeches on his dick, but we had not come across any last weekend, so we convinced him he was safe, he wouldn't get sucked off by a worm with teeth.

After our skinny-dipping, it was quite cool in the shade by the tents, because the sun was now behind the trees. We dried off with towels, and I rigged up a clothes-line between the two tents to dry them off while we still had some daylight, and Jack and Brent made several unsuccessful attempts to get a campfire going. In the end, it was Sandy who actually got the fire burning, making the two bigger, older guys look somewhat foolish.

At this point, there had been no attempt at any form of sex play between us whatever. It was as if what had occurred between us last weekend was not going to happen again, that last time had been a one-time thing, spurred on by the warm beers and rum we had drunk, like some sort of wet-dream.

I guess it was Jack who got us all turned on again. We were warming up by the campfire, still naked, in the late afternoon sunlight. Jack chopped us a bit more firewood, then took a leak at the edge of the forest nearby. In plain view of us all, he continued to fondle and rub his dick until it was quite hard, Then he struck another of his poses with a nearby tree stump, giving us all a good view of his endowments. He has a really nice big cock!

It was too much for or Brent. The next thing we knew, he was up, closing the distance between himself and Jack, and was grasping Jack's hard cock. Not only that, they began kissing! Wow! Just a week before we'd all agreed that kissing was something only faggots do, and we were not faggots, just drunk and horny!

Well! That's what we had told ourselves!

These two guys weren't wasting any time. They were both hard as rocks when they broke from their embrace and their mouth-chomping. Brent grabbed one of the unrolled sleeping bags from just inside one of the tents, spread it on the ground, and threw himself face down upon it.

"Fuck me," he cried in a hoarse whisper.

Jack was quick to oblige, but he didn't want to do him face down. He rolled Brent onto his side, had him twist his upper leg round so that his hole was exposed, spat on his hands liberally, then slathered his spit along his dick and into Brent's asshole. Resting on his knees and his arms, in a sort of push-up position, he placed his cock-head at Brent's eager orifice and pushed forward.

Sandy and I, sitting nearby watched Jack's mighty pole disappearing inside Brent's asshole. While resting on his outstretched ams and knees, Jack could fuck Brent easily with pumping motions of his buttocks.

It was glorious to watch! And very erotic.

I stood to get a better view, and my hard cock stood up with me. It stood erect, pointing to the heavens. Sandy eyed it hungrily.

Sandy was obviously just as horny as I was, watching our friends fucking, oblivious to us. He stood, also, better to watch our friends, partially obscured by some bushes and grasses. He had a huge grin on and an equally huge hard-on when he asked me,

"Do you wanna fuck?"

Did I ever!

Sandy and I didn't bother with the niceties os a sleeping bag. I wrestled him willingly to the ground right there and then. He chose to lay on his back and raise his buttocks to allow me into his hungry hole. A little bit of spit, a quick shove, and I was right inside him, feeling his muscles clenching at my throbbing cock!

I pumped at his ass like it was going out of style. He loved it like this. I could nuzzle at his neck, even kiss him, while I continued to bump and grind on his willing, hot, wet, hole.

When I took the time to glance over, Brent and Jack had changed positions. Brent was now flat on his back, like Sandy, his legs spread and his knees drawn up. Jack was between Brent's legs, rammed deep into his asshole, kissing Brent when he had the chance.

I heard the obvious sounds of Jack's orgasm at the same time I felt the first shudders of my own. He wasn't quiet when he came, but uttered loud cries of "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!" again and again. This excited me to greater heights, and my cum spurted again and again, deep into Sandy's fuck hole.

I climbed off him and staggered over to the spread sleeping bag and flopped down beside Jack, who was flat on his back, spent, and Brent, who was gently wanking himself. In a moment, Sandy also joined us.

It was only now, relaxing from our sexual exertions, that the ugly question of who had blabbed arose.

"Now no-one's going to say anything to anyone about this, are they?" demanded Jack.

"No, of course not," I replied.

"Not me," Sandy echoed.

"No," supplied Brent.

"Well one of us sure did last weekend," Jack pointed out. "And I think I know who that someone is!" he added, accusingly.

There were murmurs of astonishment from all of us.

"Who?" I asked.

We were all looking at Jack intently.

"Think about it," he said. "Who told Alanna?" he asked me.

"Janie," I replied.

"And who is Janie's best friend?"

"Sandra," I replied, and three pairs of eyes swivelled to focus on Brent. Sandra was Brent's girlfriend.

At first Brent feigned innocence. "Who? Me? I would never tell ..."

But then he realized it wouldn't take much to check. Just a phone call would do it. He became defensive and defiant.

Brent stood, and backed away from us.

"So yes, I told Sandra," Brent admitted. "Not all the details. Just that we had played around a little. She made me promise not to do it again, but ..."

His voice trailed off, probably at the memory that he had just fucked by a guy, and that he still had a roaring woody.

"Well, I'm not gay! Not like you guys! You are all a bunch of fags! I'm out of here! You can all find your own way home!

The rest of us said nothing as Brent gathered together his belongings, dressed, shouldered his backpack and stormed off down the trail back towards Duck Lake and his car.

"Good riddance! What a fink!" murmured Jack, but Sandy didn't take quite the same attitude.

He got up from the sleeping bag, and proceeded to get dressed.

"He's still our friend," he said. "I'm going after him."

Sandy quickly gathered his own belongings, shouldered his back-pack, and ran off down the darkening trail after Brent. We could hear him yelling. "Hey, Brent! Wait for me!" for quite a while.

It was getting darker fast as the sun sank behind the trees to the west. And it was getting cooler. Jack and I were forced to put on some undies and t-shirts, even though we had the campfire burning. But the clothes were as much for defence against the mosquitoes as for warmth against the encroaching night. We ate the usual camp meal of hot-dogs and coffee and lay round bullshitting, both a bit saddened by the departure of our friends.

But it didn't stop us from getting horny again. Jack had put on a pair of silken shorts, and lay back, moving his legs in such a way that he was constantly flashing me with glimpses of his junk in the flickering light from the fire. It was more erotic than when he had been stark naked. I knew he was trying to turn me on and he was doing it on purpose, because his dick was getting harder — and so was mine! It wasn't long before Jack asked me, "You wanna fuck me??"

"Sure thing," I cried. And right there in the dusk, on his back on the grass, he popped his legs in the air, slipped off his shorts, pulled up his knees, and presented his manhole to me. I slipped my undies down, lubed up my dick with spit, and shoved it into him.

My cock went into Jack so easily I knew he had either been getting fucked by someone, or he had been practising with carrots or cucumbers or something.

"Ah, that feels so good!" he cried. "Fuck me hard!" And that's what I did. Having cum only an hour or so before, I didn't cum very quickly, but fucked Jack for maybe fifteen minutes before I finally shot again inside him.

By now it was quite dark, and the campfire was dying down. We decided there was not much else to do but go to bed. In the larger tent we spread out Jack's sleeping bag opened out double, and spread my own on top of that, then the two of us crawled in between them. We cuddled together naked, fondling each others dicks and drifted off to sleep to the sound of crickets and frogs in the dark woods around us.

We were rudely awakened by crashing and thumping of brush in the night outside the tent. My first thought was a bear or some other large animal, but then I saw the beam of a flashlight on the tent wall, and heard Sandy's voice calling,

"Are you guys awake? It's just us. Me and Brent."

In the dark, Jack fumbled for the LED lantern he had bought for this trip and turned it on. The tent was flooded with light just as Sandy and Brent stumbled in through the tent flap.

"We came back," Sandy stated, rather obviously.

Brent looked rather sheepish.

"I couldn't start the car," he said. "I gave you the keys when you were checking the rad for me," he said to Jack.

"Oh, yeah," Jack laughed. "I put them in the pocket of my knapsack."

Brent fidgeted a little before saying, "About earlier ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. But it's true that I'm not a fag. I still like girls. But I guess I like guys, too. What does that make me?

"It makes you bi, like me," Jack told him. "I guess we're all a bit gay ... maybe a big bit!"

Yeah," I guess so, Brent admitted, and the crisis was behind us.

"And it doesn't matter what other people say or think. What we did is not illegal. So fuck them if they think bad about us. We know who we are. We know we like each other and we know we like having sex together. So fuck the rest of the world!"

"Yeah, fuck the rest of the world!" we all echoed. Just like the four Musketeers!

Sandy and Brent were both hungry, having eaten nothing, so we all got up again to make a late snack of more hotdogs and coffee. Jack and I pulled on shorts and t-shirts again because it was quite cool in the night air now, and it took a while to build up the fire again.

Eventually, we paired off, Jack and Brent going to sleep in the larger tent and me and Sandy in the smaller. I said sleep, but none of us went straight to sleep. Sandy and I were content to cuddle and kiss and fondle each others' dicks in the dark, but the noises from the other tent led us to believe that Jack and Brent were fucking each other's brains out. For two guys who claimed that they weren't gay, they were giving a great imitation.

After what seemed forever, we heard grunts and moans and cries of ecstasy from Brent, and we knew he must be shooting his wad deep in Jack's ass. So the guy who claimed he wasn't gay was both fucked by a guy and also fucked a guy within a few hours.

Things grew quiet after that, and Sandy and I drifted off to sleep. But our peace was not to last long. We were awoken once more to crashing and rustling and thumping and swearing. Before we could even fully wake, both Brent and Jack crawled in through the tent door, dragging their sleeping bags with them.

"Fucking tent collapsed," Jack explained. "Guess we must have kicked one of the poles out when we were fooling round." That was certainly likely. From what we had heard of it, their coupling had been very physical.

So we re-spread the sleeping bags, all four of us crowded together on three of the bags opened out and layered on top of each other, and the fourth one spread over us. We finally drifted off to sleep that way, all of us naked, with Jack and I in the middle, and Brent and Sandy on the outside.

I was awoken once more by a hand in my crotch and a hard dick poking at my butt-hole. I opened my eyes and saw that it was starting to get light outside - the grey pre-dawn light. Birds were already singing in the woods. And Jack was horny and trying to fuck me as I lay there on my side, my back to him, and one arm draped over Sandy, who lay facing me!

I glanced over my shoulder to see Jack grinning at me. He had thrown the covering sleeping bag aside and all of us were exposed to the grey light of pre-dawn. Beyond Jack, I could see that Brent was awake, too, and was in fact, already fucking Jack.

"Good morning, sexy," Jack said. "Start the day with a good fuck?"

His voice fully woke Sandy, who was already stirring. Sandy opened his eyes to see Jack trying to push his knob in behind me. He also saw that I had a nice woody.

As Jack slowly entered me, eased in by plentiful applications of spit, Sandy wriggled round on the sleeping-bags until we were head to toe. His cock was invitingly in my face. I opened my mouth to engulf it, just as Jack finally slipped fully into my ass. Sandy's mouth closed over my dick at the same time.

On the other side of Jack, Brent began pumping Jack's ass for the second time in a few hours. Each time he thrust into Jack, Jack was pushed deep into me, in turn shoving my dick deep into Sandy's slurping mouth. I did my part by sucking greedily on Sandy's dick.

None of us came right then. We managed to save ourselves and changed places several times in the next half hour or so. I don't remember all the combinations we tried, but I do remember me kissing Brent at one stage, while he fucked Sandy and I fucked Jack, who was busy sucking Brent's dick.

Eventually we all came, a couple of us spontaneously, and others by jerking off. It was enough exercise for one night. Before it was fully light, we all drifted back off to sleep - a sound sleep.

It was almost ten before we woke again, to spend the rest of the morning making coffee and scrambled eggs for breakfast, and playing in the warm lake until it was time to pack up reluctantly and head home.

As we headed off down the trail to Duck Lake, Jack reminded us:

"It doesn't matter what others think. It doesn't matter if we are gay or bi or whatever. We are us, and fuck the rest of the world if they don't like it"!

"Yeah, fuck the rest of the world!" we all agreed.

I never heard any of my three buddies ever claim to be straight again.

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