Of the male counselors at Sunrise Bible Retreat, Mary Beth and I agreed that Ryan was the cutest, but there were only two other guys, and they were both gay. Okay, so they were cute, too, but not in the same way. We had two more days of orientation before the kids arrived. Both Mary and I were here last year, so we knew the drill. Ryan was new. We told him what to expect, misleading him mercilessly.

In the matter of “Indian” costumes, for instance, we told him it would be very bad form to wear underwear under his loincloth. “Don’t worry,” Mary Beth told him, “we won’t peek.” I added, “Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.” And Mary Beth said, “Yeah, and these loincloths can be very convenient.” Her hand snuck beneath. My hand followed from the other side. Between the two of us we got Ryan into quite a state. “See what we mean?” we said, our hands exiting. We smiled meaningfully at him and raced off into the woods. “Wait,” he called out. “Come catch us,” Mary Beth called back.

We hid and he went racing past, his loin cloth flapping, his boner flapping too. Mary Beth and I tracked him. Ten minutes later he was in the middle of nowhere, out of breath. “Mary Beth,” he called out. “Annie. I give up.”

I was about to go to him, but Mary Beth held me back, a hand on my shoulder, a finger to her lips. So we stayed hidden. Maybe Mary Beth had a sense of what would happen next. After looking around, Ryan pushed his loincloth down below his erection. It jutted up magnificently. He gripped himself and began stroking. Mary Ann pulled out her cell phone and managed to snap a picture just before Ryan shot off.

White cum geysered up, jolt after jolt. The last spurt had barely splashed to the ground when we left our hiding spot. “Whatcha up to?” we asked semi-innocently. He was so embarrassed. He took off, rushing back the way he’d come.

“I’ll go comfort him,” Mary Beth told me.

“What about—” I started to say.

“You can comfort him tomorrow,” Mary Beth said.

I watched Mary Beth trot down the trail after Ryan, and then I knelt on the ground to examine the splatters of semen on the dead leaves. Pretty, I thought, even though I’m not really into guys.