All my best friends are straight - or so they say. And so am I - or so I say. Of course, I know I'm lying. Yes, I have a girlfriend, sort of, and I do have sex with her, sort of, but it's mostly blow-jobs and finger-fucking, and telling each other we are saving it for when we get married. But the truth is, I like boys.

I like being with boys; I like looking at boys; I like fucking boys; and I like being fucked by boys. Mind you, I don't tell my buddies that. They'd probably beat me up as a faggot or something … maybe … But after last weekend I'm not even so sure about that.

Let me tell you about last weekend at Frog Lake:

We all graduated from high-school just a few weeks ago, and all of us have jobs already. Luckily, none of us have had to leave town to find work. Also luckily, all of us have the weekends off. So last weekend we decided to dump our girlfriends for a night, and spend the weekend together at Frog Lake. I don't know if your town has a place like Frog Lake, but I'm sure it must. Most places have something like it.

Frog Lake is a tiny lake on the small river which makes its way down from the coast ranges to the sea. It's fairly hard to get to, because you can only drive as far as Duck Lake, a much larger lake, and then hike in about a mile over a rough trail. Few people go there - and the few who do are mostly young guys like us.

There were four of us — dark-haired Jack, the oldest - and best-looking; Brent, also dark-haired, and the tallest of us; Sandy, a fairly slight boy, who lives up to his name; and me, James, another blond, and the youngest of the crew. Actually, we are all within a few months of each other in age, but Jack is already turned eighteen and the rest of us are still seventeen.

We didn't get going until after lunch on Saturday, because we had trouble finding someone to bootleg for us - not that were bought much alcohol, just a twelve-pack of beer and a mickey of dark rum. None of us were really what you would call drinkers. We shared the beer out among our backpacks for weight, and Jack carried the rum in his pack. We all had the food and pop shared out amongst our packs - mostly wieners and buns for food, and some granola bars and chips.

We drove in Brent's beat-up station wagon as far as Duck Lake and parked it and locked it up securely there. There were no other vehicles parked near the trail to Frog Lake, which was a good sign. It meant that there was probably no other campers in there, and this late in the day, no others likely to come. We set out on foot from there, each of us toting a backpack, and taking turns with the carry-all with the four-man tent.

It all started out very innocently - four straight buddies on a hike and a camping trip. But it first started to go downhill about half-way in to Frog Lake. Brent needed to take a leak, and while we waited for him, he dropped his knapsack and stepped off the path along the small river. We gave him a hard time about being shy to piss in front of us. He had already shed his shirt some time before, and in broad sight of us he proved he wasn't shy. He undid the buttons of his cut-off jeans and spread the fly open. It was obvious he was not wearing any underwear, because his impressive cock flopped out all by itself. I had never seen his dick before. It was easily six inches long, soft - a long, thin snake which spurted a strong stream of yellow piss into the undergrowth.

I had a secret desire to touch it, to masturbate it, to suck it, maybe even have it inside me. My own dick stirred with the thoughts

"Feels good out," he said, basking in the afternoon sun. "Think I'll leave it out." We all laughed at the old joke, as Brent clomped back through the weeds to the trail, his pants still undone and his cock still hanging out. He put on his knapsack once more, and we started out again.

Brent's cut-offs kept slipping down to his knees, so he took them off and hung them over his head, like an Arab headdress. We all laughed at the sight, of him naked, except for his runners and socks and cap and head-pants.

"You guys don't know what you're missing," he told us. "I feel one with nature. Get your gear off," he prodded. "There's no-one else out here but us!"

I was game to get my pants off too. I wasn't embarrassed that the guys would laugh at my cock, because it was already half-hard. I would be rather proud to show it off to my buds. By the time I dropped my shorts and underwear, I was no longer half-hard. I was full hard. I stuffed my pants in my knapsack and continued on with a raging stiffy.

The other guys made joking comments about my thick, hard dick, such as, "Keep away from me with that thing, you homo," and "It better not be Brent's bare butt that's turning you on, faggot!" but I noticed all of them taking long, surreptitious looks at it.

So now there were two of us in the team, trudging along bare balls-ed. And Brent, too, maybe at the sight of my wood, was getting a hard. It didn't grow much, but it did begin to stand up instead of looking at the ground with its one eye.

It wasn't long before Jack decided to join the club. He was only wearing a pair of old sweat pants, cut off at the knees, with a jock-strap underneath. He slipped them both off to reveal an already-hard, thick, uncut dick. Even as we watched, his foreskin slipped back as it grew harder.

That was enough for Sandy. He dropped his backpack, stripped off everything, and stood there defiantly in the middle of the trail, hands on hips.

"There!" he said. "Now we are all even." He seemed to like the fact that Jack had his foreskin retracted, so he pulled his back to match Jack's. The masturbatory action gave him an instant woody also.

That was the way we proceeded through the woods to the lake, four naked guys with woodies!

When we reached Frog Lake, the first order of business was a quick swim in the shallow lake. At some time in the past, the bank had collapsed, creating a sandy bar in water near where the small river entered in. It was perfect for wading in without the worry of underwater snags and sunken logs.

There was a log resting on one end of the sand bar, and the flow of water had gouged out a fairly deep hole in the water below that, about six feet deep, perfect for diving into. Brent was probably the most acrobatic of us all, and soon was doing back-flips off that log. The rest of us were content to dive head first into the deep hole.

Sandy was not much of a swimmer; in fact, he could only really dog-paddle, so he contented himself by just wading in up to his armpits, and splashing around in the water with the rest of us. I think he was a little afraid of the current pulling him down, even though it was just a gentle flow. He soon retired to the bank, and spent his time soaking up the afternoon sun's rays and looking for flat stones to skip over the water.

Of course, although the water was not icy cold, it was still cold enough to put an end to our woodies. All four dicks soon were limp and shrunken, although Brent's was still impressively long.

When we had tired of the fun and games in the water, it was time to do something about setting up camp. We dried off with our towels from our backpacks and hauled the tent out of its carry-bag. It came with its own aluminum collapsible poles, and all its guy ropes and stuff were already hooked on, so once we figured out how to erect it from the almost unintelligible instructions that came with it, we were all set.

We unfolded a couple of sleeping bags in front of the tent, and sat round on them and our damp towels and cracked open the warm beers. We had not thought to bring a cooler, nor to submerge the beers in the creek when we arrived, so they were at air temperature. Warm beer is not really that nice, so we put the rest in the creek to cool, as we should have done in the first place, and swigged from the mickey of rum.

Between the warm beer and the warm, straight rum, we were all feeling a light buzz in no time at all. And that's when the sex stuff began …

It all began when Jack stood up to go take a leak. I don't know if he really was a bit drunk, or whether he was just putting it on, as a sort of mask, an excuse. He sort of staggered into the bushes to pee. We heard him whizzing, then we heard his voice:

"Ah, feels so good to squeeze out the last drops, shake out the dregs," he was saying.

Brent piped in: "If you shake more than three times, you are playing with it!"

"It's my dick and I'll play with it if I want," Jack replied, stumbling back toward the camp.

As he came to the edge of the clearing, we saw that he had a hard on once more. He made a great show of stumbling and grabbing the nearest tree. He clung to it and pushed his cock against it.

"I'm a tree hugger," he exclaimed.

"Your a tree fucker," retorted Brent.

"I'm a butt fucker," Jack replied, "and yours is looking very inviting."

"Stay away from me, you homo," Brent warned, playing the game.

"Come on, you know you'd love it," cajoled Jack.

It was all in joking fun … or was it?

The sight of Jack's new woody and the turn the banter was taking, and maybe the alcohol mixed in, was stirring us all. In a short time

Jack left off clinging to his tree, and stumbled back to the group. He sat close to Brent.

"I told you to stay away from me, faggot," Brent laughed.

"If I fucked you, you'd never forget it," Jack promised.

"If you fucked me, you'd never go back to women," Brent joked. "But anyway, your dick's too small to ever satisfy me."

"And your ass is too tight for me to ever get in it."

But now Sandy spoke up, and we could tell straight away that he wasn't joking.

"I've been bum-fucked. More than once."

All eyes were upon him right away.

"You have?" asked Brent. "Were you raped?"

"No," Sandy said, hesitantly. "I let the guy do it to me."

"Did it hurt?" asked Jack.

"Who was it?" asked Brent.

"I'm not telling you who it was," replied Sandy. "That's my secret. and yes, it did hurt, a lot, but only for a little bit, and only the first time."

"Only the first time?" I commented. "How many times did he do it to you."

"Lots of times," Sandy reluctantly admitted. "You guys aren't gonna hate me now, are you?"

"Shit, no," I told him. Brent and Jack also voiced their agreements. I wasn't prepared to be as brave as Sandy and admit my own homosexual leanings.

"What else did you do?" asked Jack. It was obvious by his rock-hard cock that this was turning him on. Brent and I were also sporting very hard dicks. And Sandy too, for all his embarrassment and worry that we might turn on him, also had a hard.

"He sucked my cock," Sandy said.

"And I sucked his," he confessed. "It was good."

"You're kidding," Brent exclaimed. "A guy's cock tasted good?"

"Yes, it tasted good."

So do you get the picture? Three "straight" guys sitting around on towels and sleeping bags in the deep woods, asking a fourth "straight" guy about sucking cock.

"Did he cum in you mouth?" asked Jack.

"Yes," Sandy told him, "and I swallowed it," he added.

"Wow!" marvelled Jack. "I've always wanted to suck a guy's cock," he said. "Just to see what girls see in it." he added hastily.

"You're kidding," Brent scoffed.

"No, I'm not kidding," Jack insisted.

"Then suck on this then," Brent dared, standing and thrusting his hips forward, pushing his hard cock towards Jack's face. Without hesitation, Jack bent his neck forward and took the first inch or two of Brent's cock into his mouth.

Brent let out a gasp and a whoop.

"Oh, wow!" he cried. "Man, that's sooo good!"

Jack started to push his face further into Brent's crotch, and Brent's moans of delight grew louder.

"I'll suck you, if you want," Sandy told me. We were sitting together on the sleeping bags.

"OK," I agreed, "for a little bit, then I'll suck you."

"That sounds like a good deal," agreed Sandy. I stood and proffered my stiff cock. Sandy remained seated, but bent forward and licked the top of my cock. A thrill ran through me!

He ran his tongue over the sensitive underside of my dick head. I almost came right away, but held back. The urge to cum quickly subsided. Just as well, for now Sandy had my whole dick head in his mouth and was sucking and tonguing it.

"OK, let's switch," I suggested, as I was afraid I would cum too soon. So we did just that. Sandy lay back and I bent over him and took his cock in my mouth.

Nearby, Brent and Jack had commandeered one of the towels, and were now lying upon it. They had switched by now, and it was Brent's turn to do the sucking. While Jack lay back, Brent was bouncing his face up and down on Jack's thick pole, almost as if he had sucked dick before this - and who knows? Maybe he had!

"Hey, don't you two get cum all over my sleeping bag," Jack called to us. "Get a towel!"

Sandy and I interrupted our play long enough to do as ordered, and spread a beach towel under us before I went back to sucking his nice long dick.

"This is not your first time, is it?" asked Sandy.

"No," I admitted. "In fact, somehow, I don't think this is a first time for any of us, even if we don't admit it." I was bobbing my face up and down rapidly on Sandy's cock now. I didn't want to speak, just suck cock.

Sandy warned me, "Don't make me cum. I want to make this last a while." I slowed down so that he could stay in control.

The nature of Jack and Brent's games had changed. I couldn't see what they were doing, but from what I could hear, I could imagine.

"You want to sit on it?" asked Jack.

"Yes," I heard Brent reply. ""I want to feel what it's like having a dick inside me."

"OK," said Jack, "But you'll have to grease it up a little. Spit on your hand and rub it onto my cock." How did he know? Had he done this before?

I heard the sound of Brent spitting three or four times, then Jack saying, "Ah, that's good. Nice and slimy."

Then there was silence for a moment. I presume Brent was lowering his ass onto Jack's cock, and Jack was guiding it to Brent's hole. Then there was a gasp of pain!

"Oh, fuck!" groaned Brent. "Man, that hurts!

"You want to stop?" asked Jack.

"No," Brent assured him. "Just let me take your cock in slowly. Don't push up!"

Then I heard Jack groan "Oh, God, that's good!" I'm guessing Brent's sphincter had opened and allowed Jack's dick to drive up into him.

Then we could hear Brent's gasps of pain turning to groans of pleasure as his asshole became used to the foreign object impaling his ass. From the squishy sounds I could hear, I presumed Brent was now bouncing his butt up and down on Jack's hard pole.

"Oh, man," we heard Brent gasping. "This is so fucking good! Why have we never done this before."

"Because we're not fags," Jack told him. "We're just doing it now to find out what it's like."

"Right!" puffed Brent

"You want to try what they're doing?" I whispered to Sandy.

"Sure," he agreed. "Who does who?"

"Lay back," I instructed him. "I'll sit on yours."

Sandy stretched out on his back on the towel. I straddled him. His dick was standing straight up, and it was still wet from my mouth and a little pre-cum at its eye. I straddled him, facing him, and slowly lowered my butt to his crotch. Sandy guided his knob to my hole. I reached behind me and placed it in position, then slowly pushed myself down onto it. I felt it entering me and pushed back to receive it. Hid foreskin, which had been pulled forward, slid back as he entered me, acting almost like a lubricant, pushing the knob forward and into my ass.

With an almost audible pop his bulbous dickhead burst through the double layer of constrictive muscles in my asshole into my bowels and his whole shaft slid up into me. There was no pain, as I had often put things up there, stretching my hole. Sandy's dick felt good in me, and I began to s ride up and down on it, like Brent was doing with Jack.

"Can I kiss you?" Sandy whispered.

"Sure," I replied. He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me down on top of him. I opened my mouth to meet his, the first time I had ever kissed one of my close friends.

"Hey, guys, what do you think about this?" Jack called.

"Pretty good," I called back. "Now I know what the queers see in it."

"Wanna make it a four-way?" Jack suggested.

"Do you want to try a four-way?" I asked Sandy.

"Sure," he agreed.

We separated from our respective entanglements and gathered together on the sleeping bags.

The four-way started out when Brent started sucking Sandy's cock almost right away. It didn't seem to bother him that Sandy's cock had just been up my ass. They were both laying on their backs, on the sleeping bags, Brent's head turned to take the knob in his mouth.

Jack turned Sandy on his side slightly, then wriggled in beside him. The action forced Brent to stop sucking Sandy, to give Jack access to Sandy's hole. Sandy spread his legs and lifted one up, exposing his hole. A little spit and Jack entered Sandy, pushing his rod way up into him..

"Hot!" he cried. I don't know whether he meant Sandy's hole, or the action of sticking his dick into it, but we got the idea that he was enjoying it, anyway.

Laying on his back, Brent nodded to me, "You fuck me."

I lifted his legs and he spread them. I placed my dick, wet with pre-cum, at his welcoming asshole and shoved. He gave a great gasp as my dick shot up into him.

"Oh, yes," he cried. "Fuck me."

Beside us, Jack was doing just that to Sandy, who was obviously enjoying it.

There was something terribly exciting about all this - four guys fucking each other out in the open air, but hidden away deep in the woods. It was sort of a magic bonding of the four of us, a secret no-one else would ever share.

Brent was the first to cum. While I fucked his ass, he had been jerking Sandy's cock with one hand, and his own cock with the other. All of a sudden he began to gasp and quiver and cry out as if in pain. I felt his colon clenching my dick in spasms as his jizz shot from his dick in spurts, all over his belly.

My own responded to the contractions of Brent's tight hole, and I shot my load deep into his insides in spurt after wonderful spurt.

While I was still cumming inside him, Brent renewed his masturbation of Sandy's dick, which quickly responded. His cum shot forth violently, spurting all over Brent's chest and even hitting me in the face.

That was the trigger for Jack, who let out a howl of "Oh! Oh! Oh!" as he came inside Sandy.

We all flopped on the sleeping bags, spent, for a few moments of absolute exhaustion, then we began to stir, to separate.

"That was fun," suggested Jack.

"Yes, kind of," agreed Brent. "but it doesn't mean we are homos, does it?"

"No," jack insisted. "It was just a one time thing, an experiment."

"Yes," Brent added. "Just to see what it was like. We're not faggots."

"No," Jack agreed, "we're not faggots."

"No," I agreed.

"No," Sandy added.

We all got dressed then, quietly, without saying much more.

We didn't talk about what we had just done then or later in the evening when we made supper, or when we snuggled together in our sleeping bags in the tent that night.

We didn't talk about it next morning when we woke, or that afternoon as we hiked out from Frog Lake.

Nor did we talk about it in the few days that have followed. It's as if it never happened.

But tonight Jack phoned to see if I'd be interested in going in to Frog Lake again this weekend. The others have already said they would like to, so I said "Sure."

Jack said "We'll have fun."

I'm not sure whether he meant a repeat of last weekend or not. Maybe, maybe not. After all, my friends are straight, aren't they?

What do you think?

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