I think my Y-Camp story-cycle is a touch act to follow, in detail and scope and maybe style. So I won't even try. :) Actually, the second summer I went wasn't nearly as important in forming my identity. It wasn't the awesome, sexual-heat-lightning-charged period I found it to be at age nine. This time, it was a fun two weeks, but not a special two weeks. So I'll just tell the basics here, and a story or two.

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Actually, I only had sex with one other boy at camp, although I tried hard. There were a number of masturbation instances. And naturally, I single- handedly revived "grab-the-weenie" for another round. Unfortunately, we only got to play it one time. Our counselor this year, unlike good ol' Counselor Hal, was definitely on the anal-retentive end of the spectrum, and he put a stop to "grab-the-weenie" as soon as he noticed us playing it.

Skinny-dipping was alive and well, but that wasn't as sexual to me by this time. As for the Boy Talk lecture, they didn't even have it. I don't know if they couldn't get the doc to come back for another performance that year, or if Y-Camp had eliminated the whole thing as a matter of policy. Whatever the reason, sex-ed was off the menu. (It wasn't a permanent ban, apparently; a couple years later, I picked up a camp application out of curiosity, and there among the other stuff was the permission slip for your parents to sign. So maybe it was just the camp doc's schedule, or something.)

And none of my old friends from two years earlier was back. Not even one. I checked every cabin. :(

So, the upshot was that Y-Camp at age 11 wasn't nearly as much about sex as it had been two years earlier. Even though I was alot more interested, myself. Aside from the one boy I had sex with, and another boy I didn't have sex with but wished I had, and some smaller incidents like showing a few boys how to jerk off, it was a slow two weeks. By my standards at the time, at any rate.

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I was a desperate kid by the time summer camp rolled around in late July. Alex had been gone for almost two months, and except for the episode with Brandon, I had been unwillingly abstinent the whole time. I was a bundle of pent-up sexual energy by the time I got to Y-Camp.

In hindsight, I don't know why I didn't get sent home from camp. I hit on nearly all the boys in my cabin in one way or another - and it wasn't always subtle, either. I was acting out, too. One evening at dinner, I grabbed a weenie - a hot dog weenie - out of the bun, held it in front of me in a strategic location, and went around saying "suck on this". My counselor grabbed my weenie away from me and told me to sit down and shut up. I did the former, but not the latter. Nobody got little Danny to shut up, back then. "The Mouth of the South" was one of my nicknames.

Another favorite Danny routine: Mooning. For some reason, I had a mooning fixation at that stage of my life. My technique was simple. At the least excuse - usually as a response to some insult - I'd bend over and pull my shorts down and wiggle my butt in the other kid's face. Depending on how public things were, I didn't always pull my boxers down, too. I wasn't so crazy that I wanted to get shipped home early. :)

My crowning moment, the day before the wilderness canoe trip, was an attempted-mooning of the whole camp assembly one morning at the flag-raising. That was the time I almost got sent home early. Another kid dared me to do it. I had a reputation, of course - it took me about two days to develop that - and this kid either didn't believe I'd really do it, or he just wanted to cause a ruckus. There was no ceremony or artistic element to my performance. We were all sitting on the rows of benches. This kid said, "Hey Danny, I dare you to moon the kids behind us." I immediately said "Okay!", stood up, pulled my shorts down in back, and bent over. I started to pull my underwear down that time, but thought better of it - I think I exposed an inch or so of crack, but no more. :)

I got removed from the assembly (I went quietly), sent to the office, and then received a nice long lecture from the camp director for my trouble. And that was the end of my Y-Camp mooning career. I guess I can't blame them for being a little upset. For those last few days, I took up pretend-barfing as a substitute gag; but it wasn't the same...

Mostly, my mooning was for the purpose of being insulting. But a few times, I was consciously being sexual by exposing my butt. On several occasions - all in our cabin, as I recall, and all with no counselors around - I mooned the other kids spontaneously, with no provocation. Those moons were always bare- assed, no boxers in the way; and I bent way over, saying "who's first, huh?" It was funny in the same way as regular mooning - they all thought I was kidding. And I was kidding - but I wasn't. In other words, while I was doing it, I was hoping in the front of my mind for laughter (which I got, usually); and in the back of my mind, I was hoping that some boy would come up to me later, privately, and say, "Remember when you showed us your butt, and said, 'Who's first?' Well..."

As I've said, anal sex wasn't of much interest to me, then. But if another boy had expressed that kind of interest, I would've done it with him, no question. I was curious about sex, and only the stuff I thought of as being on the far end of the spectrum (like S&M, or bestiality) was out of bounds.

Another acting-out element: I would go through this fake-orgasm performance from time to time. It's hard to describe in words, but basically, you lie down and moan and writhe and say stuff like "Ooooh, I'm gonna go over the edge." :) I was relatively circumspect about using more direct language than that, because saying bad words was a disciplinary matter, and that was very well-enforced. I don't think too many folks were amused by my routine after the third or fourth time, but it didn't stop me. :)

I was careful not to say or do anything too overtly sexual when any counselor - our counselor, in particular - was around. But I did cross that line the next-to-last day, in fact, and got into trouble for it. We were in the cabin, getting ready for afternoon activity period. One kid said he was ready to "beat some ass" in softball. Somebody asked me, "Danny, you gonna beat some ass in soccer?" And I said, "Yeah. But I'd rather get somebody to ass-fuck me." Our counselor hadn't been paying attention till that moment, apparently. (Or, possibly he was ignoring the word "ass" because it was in a sports-related context - some counselors cut you that kind of slack. But in his case, I doubt it.) At any rate, as soon as I spoke, he turned and said, "Danny, I'm giving you one warning, and one warning only. You say that again, and you're outta here." I just said, "Um... okay." An exceptionally meek answer, for me. I didn't know if dismissal from camp was the prescribed penalty for saying "ass-fuck", but I didn't want to find out :)

Camp wasn't all just little Danny acting out, of course. I still loved soccer and swimming. Softball was fun, too. And I still sucked wind at archery. :)

I gave basketball a shot, too (no pun intended.) I didn't formally sign up for hoops, but we played pickup during evening rec time. I tried, but I was just too small to be decent. I had alot more fun playing "HORSE" than playing the game itself. I don't know if everyone is familiar with Horse - it's an American boys' playground institution, but I'm not sure about elsewhere. The object is to get your opponent(s) to spell out the word "H-O-R-S-E" before you do. You and your opponent(s) take turns shooting goals. For every goal you miss, you add a letter to your "score". The score starts at zero, naturally; your first miss awards you the letter "H", the second miss gives you an "O", and so on. The first person to spell Horse loses and drops out; the last kid left on the court is the winner. I usually sucked playing Horse, but I still enjoyed it. :)

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As I said, aside from a few "here's how you jack off" incidents, I only had sex with one boy at camp, one time. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment encounters. I don't remember it as well as some of the other incidents I've recounted in these narratives - and that's unfortunate, I guess, because Nate was only the third boy I ever had "real sex" with (BJs.) He was also the first and last uncircumcised boy I sucked. And we did it in a canoe, which was an experience I never had before or since. Possibly if I went into my reverie, or fugue, or whatever you call that state of mind where I recall everything, I might remember more details. But I'll save that for a different time. Meanwhile, here's what I recall:

Nate was a 12 year-old boy in the cabin next to ours. We had talked casually off and on during the 10 days or so before it happened, but we weren't close friends or anything. Nothing sexually-related had emerged in our conversations, with one small but significant exception: One evening at bedtime, we were down at the latrines, brushing our teeth and all that. I was wearing just my boxers; Nate noticed (young boys wearing boxers were unusual back in that day and time) and asked me why I wore boxers and not briefs. He called them "boxer shorts", which kind of amused me, so I asked him if I looked like Muhammad Ali, and we racked each other for a few minutes over that kind of stuff. :)

We ended up having sex the day before the big wilderness canoe trip, Nate and I. The way it happened: All of those going on the trip were practicing canoeing in pairs, and I ended up with Nate. I was a better paddler than he was, so I started out in the rear; the rule was that you switched off at least once during the hour so both kids could have practice steering. So off we went, down the lake to the east and around the finger of land. There was a small cove to the north around the bend. Neither of us had ever been up there, so I suggested we check it out, and Nate was willing. None of this was planned. I was perpetually horny at Y-Camp, as noted, but I wasn't trying to get us alone; I was really just thinking of canoeing and exploring when we went up there.

That cove turned out to be a narrow little creek, several hundred yards in. I was worried we would get stuck and not be able to turn around. (Insert "up creek without paddle" joke here. :)) So I told Nate we'd better beach the canoe, get it turned around, switch positions, and head back onto the open water.

We beached, and were in the midst of the tricky process of changing places (you canoe-veterans know about this part.) And in the midst of that, Nate brought up my boxers again. I was wearing loose shorts and my boxers were showing at the legs (not uncommon back then, since boys' shorts were alot shorter in the 70s), and he asked me if I liked boxers, if they were comfortable, etc. I said I did, and that I'd switched the year before because my best friend wore them and I thought they were cool.

A second or two after I said that it occurred to me that this could be an opening. So I added, impulsively, that it happened when Alex and I were on the roof smoking and talking about girls, and it was a hot day, so we stripped to our underwear, and then we ended up fooling around.

Well, that got Nate curious and/or interested. He asked what we did. So I told him we played with each other's weenies. (I didn't get into the sucking part yet; I didn't want to overload him.) I asked him if he ever did that with himself - he did. I asked if he ever did it with another boy - yes. So I asked the logical follow-up question: "Wanna do it again? Like, now?"

Fortunately, it was private up in the cove. We got our shorts and underwear off, sat on the floor of the canoe (which wasn't much fun, since it held about a half-inch of water), and started jerking each other off. I was interested in his uncircumcised dick, and we talked about that a little; Nate told me he got teased about it, and I said, "Well, I think it's cool." He liked that. :)

Around that point, I figured, why not go for it? So I told him that Alex and I had done more than play with each other: "Has another boy ever put his mouth on you?" Nope; but he was willing to try. So I got him to sit on the canoe seat and sucked his cock. It was exciting for Nate, I guess, because he came in less than five seconds. Nate was farther into puberty than I was, so he had a real ejaculation, like Brandon had. But unlike with Brandon, I wasn't prepared, since he came so quickly. I tried to swallow it all, but some escaped and dripped down my chin. I have to say that having the stuff escape grossed me out. (It grossed me out every time it happened to me in later years, too. I don't know why. I didn't mind swallowing nearly as much, and you'd think that would be grosser... oh well, psychology is funny. :))

I asked Nate if he wanted to do the same thing to me. I don't think he was as keen on that, but he did it. He was pretty terrible at technique - all he did at first was suck, so I had to show him how to bob his head and move his tongue and stuff. I didn't know if I would ejaculate anything (at that stage it was just beginning to happen regularly), so I told him that. Then I orgasmed, and as soon as I started he took his mouth off and spit. Obviously I was shooting. :) Nothing else came out after he quit sucking. I had a couple more weak contractions, but I have always needed stimulation to continue during orgasm, so this wasn't much fun.

I don't think Nate enjoyed sucking me, though he never said so directly. I was talking to him afterwards, as we got our clothes and stuff back together, telling him about Alex and me, but he was quiet and definitely didn't seem interested any more. I was getting worried I'd offended him or something. I didn't want to lose any friends, and in the back of my mind I was concerned he might tell. So after we took our places and got the canoe turned around and were headed out, I started joking around, doing this English butler routine - saying things like "I do hope you will be ready for tea when we return to civilization, Sir Nate..." It was lame humor, but I got him giggling. :)

And that's about it. Obviously we didn't do it again. In fact, I only saw Nate one time after that, on Closing Day at assembly. As soon as I saw him, I went into the English butler routine again - bowing low from the waist, and saying, "We must do it again. It was smashing - simply smashing", and other stuff, all in my best English accent, which sounded mostly like Alfred Hitchcock. He laughed his butt off (as did a few other kids), and then we parted ways.

I don't think there were any hard feelings or anything like that. This event was just two curious boys, satisfying their curiosity; and once it was satisfied, Nate moved on. (The one thing I wonder: Did Nate ever switch to boxers? :))