He had been my counselor for three years, was a school teacher somewhere, and was very kind to me. My first year in camp I was very home-sick and this kind and gentle man would hold me close to him, in private, and allow me dignity as I cried onto his shoulder. He held me, stroked my back but in no way did he take "advantage" of me. Over the next two years I had my parents request this man, whom I believed to have been in his late 30s, to be my counselor because I liked him and thought he was a very nice man.
This is an Adult Site Only! This is an Adult Website! You must be 18 or Older! A nd that's what these pages are all about! Gay, erotic tales that I have written Some based on real life incidences, others hopeful fantasies. Some written solely to give you something worthy of laundering your towels over!
In her blue dress, with her cheeks lightly flushed, her blue, blue eyes, and her gold curls pinned up as though for the first time - pinned up to be out of the way for her flight - Mrs. Raddick's daughter might have just dropped from this radiant heaven. Raddick's timid, faintly astonished, but deeply admiring glance looked as if she believed it, too; but the daughter didn't appear any too pleased - why should she?
The reason is because it happened to me. One evening, when I was six, he offered to babysit me and my older sister at his house. He could do these pitch-perfect character voices, and in that way, he was charismatic and appealing to children. The werewolf would howl, he said, his thirst for the blood of children relentless, until one night he came charging through a window of a house trying to catch the little girl inside. The broken glass pierced his throat, and then he was dead, his head hanging over the sill, blood dripping down the wall to the floor.