I was in a "major youth organization" for boys, for several years. I'd rather not name the organization here, because this organization has a bigtime phobia about homosexuality in its ranks - and I don't know if they could or would sue me, but I'd rather not take the chance by naming them. I'm sure nobody can figure out what group I'm talking about - right? :)

I wasn't a deeply-involved member. I enjoyed the group and the activities and everything, but it was a major time commitment, and I was already pretty busy. I stayed with it mainly because some of my friends were involved. I moved up in the ranks, but I think they cut me alot of slack on the requirements, as well as other kids - we had a lackadaisical bunch of adult leaders, as I recall.

I have a few memorable experiences from my time with that organization, and just about all of them involved camping. This particular narrative is about a camping trip we took during that memorable year when I was 10 y/o. It was a fun trip - they nearly all were. And in this case, I also learned something about myself. Namely, that I liked showing off. Well, okay - I already knew I liked showing off. One of my boyhood nicknames was "Rock Star", if that tells you anything :). It was natural and inevitable that my show-off tendencies would extend to my sexual side. I already knew I liked it when other boys could see me naked and aroused. Playing grab-the-weenie at Y-camp proved that. And this camping trip... well, you'll see.

Anyway, I was a boy who loved the spotlight. And on this trip I proved it - literally.

It was a Saturday night campout. I don't remember exactly when this took place, but I'm guessing late April or May. I know school was still in session (this youth group didn't have a regular summer activity schedule), and it was during warm weather, although the weekend itself was fog-damp and cool. This event was partly for the purpose of collecting points toward an achievement award, which meant that all the fifth-graders in our unit were there - about 25-30 boys total. Our unit was divided into three "sub-units" (geez, it's hard to talk about all this without using the organization's terminology... but I'll stay with the program here). My sub-unit was around eight boys, of whom 5-6 were along for this trip.

The campout was held at a farm out in the hills somewhere. It was a real working cattle farm, with real cows - which was still a bit of a novelty to a city boy like me. We didn't spend much time hanging out with the cows or chickens or other farm denizens. We basically had one whole field to ourselves, plus the woods on either end. There was also an old abandoned house on the field's edge. The term "campout" was a misnomer, actually, because we slept on the floor inside the house that night.

I am hazier than usual about some details of the campout. I don't remember, for example, how we got to the farm, or how we got home, or all the stuff we did. My recollection of that weekend is a series of little movies, with little or no connective memory between them. I do recall some incidents very clearly. One, for example, was the snipe hunt.

Now, for those who don't know, a "snipe hunt" is a favorite camping activity. "Snipes" were allegedly big birds that slept out in the open, and hence were allegedly easy to catch. The idea is that each kid gets a big burlap or cloth bag, and is told to go out in the woods or around the bushes and hunt for a snipe. The organizers were always vague about what a snipe looked like, except that they were big. You were supposed to hunt and hunt till you saw a snipe, grab it (apparently they were slow), shove it into your bag, and bring it back to camp for your reward.

There were, of course, no snipes. It was a variation of the old "wild goose chase", and not even much of a variation at that. It was a trick to play on the gullible kids. (For many years, well into adulthood, I assumed snipes were completely fictitious; but then I ran across a picture of a bird called [I think] "Wilson's Snipe" in the dictionary. They weren't found anywhere near where I grew up - not even in North America, if I recall correctly.)

Well, Danny was a little too worldly-wise to ever believe in the snipe hunt :). We'd been sent on snipe hunts at Y-camp the year before. I thought it was a crock from the beginning. But I went along, every time, including this weekend. I mean, what else were we gonna do? And it was fun getting out exploring. I even enjoyed walking around, calling the imaginary snipes. Hard to explain... maybe you had to be there :).

So I went off with a couple of friends to our assigned territory - I can't even remember now who they were, oddly - and we literally beat the bushes, calling "here, snipe... here, snipe, snipe..." We probably scared a few billion insects, but no birds. I'd already informed the others, as soon as we were out of earshot, that snipes were imaginary, in my authoritative judgment. Of course, I didn't put it that way. I probably said something like "It's a bunch of B.S., y'all. Ain't no such thing as a snipe."

The other kids weren't convinced at first - one of them asked, "If they aren't real, how come you're goin' out with us, Danny?" To which I had no ready answer, except a lame-sounding "it's fun." It was fun, even though it was pretend. But it's hard to explain that. Most boys at around age 10 make a clear distinction between pretend and real. I think most boys come to believe, at around 6-8 years old, that the pretend-games they enjoyed so much as little kids were - well, "little kids' games". Often, some older kid made fun of you for pretending. Damn cynical middle-schoolers :). I think all this rejection of the world-of-pretend is wrapped up in finding out there's no Santa Claus, too. There's probably a chapter in my introductory college psychology textbook about all this, but I don't remember. I had intro college psychology at 8:00 a.m., and not much of the subject matter penetrated :).

Back to the snipes: After about 20 minutes of fruitless bush-beating, they concluded that snipes didn't exist on this farm, anyway. When our band of intrepid snipe-seekers got back, empty-handed (empty-bagged, to be precise), the leaders tried to send us out again; but we called their bluff: "Are there really snipes out there?" They didn't argue. As I recall, the adult leader's answer to that question was "Okay, go sit by the campfire, if you'd rather not play... and don't say anything to the other boys." It sounds alot like the outcome of your typical Santa-Claus-isn't-real-is-he conversation, now that I think about it... :)

Another memorable incident took place earlier that afternoon. It was a really foggy day. I can't remember why we were all out in the field; playing a team game, probably. There was a fence that separated our field from another field where the cows hung out. The adults had told us to stay away from the fence. They didn't say why; I recall thinking it was related to not bothering the farmer's cows. I remember glimpsing that fence in the fog, and thinking, "Man, that's a flimsy-looking fence - two little strands of wire? How's that gonna keep the cows in?" Well, city boy that I was, I failed to realize the significance of all those little white insulators on which the strands of wire were mounted :).

We happened to find ourselves closer to the fence after a bit. I wasn't paying much attention, until one of the kids said "Hey, that's an electric fence!" Suddenly, it dawned on me why only two flimsy strands were needed :). The adults, overhearing this, immediately told us again not to go near the fence, and we went on with our game.

Now, I had a reputation as a kid who never turned down a dare. My friends knew that, and they frequently and shamelessly took advantage of the fact. It led to some interesting adventures over the years :). On this day, it was probably inevitable - as soon as the electric fence became known, and as soon as the adults were far enough away, some kid - can't remember who, but it had to be someone who knew me well - said: "Okay, Danny - I dare you to touch that fence."

This was one of those rare occasions when I turned down a dare, cold. I had heard of electric fences, but I had no idea how much electricity was in them, or what they would do to a kid who touched one. I figured they weren't fatal to the cows - at least, there weren't any dead cows lying around next to the wires - but cows are alot bigger than boys. I said, "Not on your life." They gave me the predictable hard time, of course: "Ooh, Danny's a coward... he's a pussy... can't take a little tingle... might wet his pants..." It was all expected. I gave it right back, of course: "If it's so easy, why aren't you touching it?... I dare you to lick it, dude..." And so on :).

Some other kids I didn't know as well were nearby, and one of them - I'm guessing he had a farm background, or had relatives who did - said, "Aw, it won't hurt you - just gives you a little jolt - watch." And he reached out and touched the fence. He jerked his hand back quickly, but with no air of surprise, and said, "See?"

I still wasn't sure. This kid was bigger than me. But my friends were still giving me shit, and I was too proud to be anything less than second-place. So I said, "Okay, y'all shut up - here goes." I reached out and touched it.

I remember that shock vividly. It wasn't quite as bad as sticking your finger in a light bulb socket (which I'd done previously), but it was a very respectable jolt. I jerked my hand back and let out an involuntary yelp. Everybody laughed. I guess it was pretty funny :).

Naturally, everybody was asking us what it felt like. I just shrugged, and said, "electricity". What else can you say? It's pretty hard to describe. Over the years I've come to think of orgasms as like electricity; but I don't think the reverse analogy holds true :).

A couple of other kids touched the fence after me, all with the same reaction. Around that time, the adults noticed our little game and put a stop to it: "You kids get away from there! You want to go home early? We told you..." blah blah blah. And we went on with our game, which was undoubtedly more boring, and undoubtedly safer, which are probably the reasons I can't remember now what it was, although the fence memory is sharp and clear...

Other fragments from that campout include sitting around the campfire and listening to one of the lamest ghost stories I've ever heard. I can't remember the story, but we all saw the conclusion coming a mile away - it was one of those stories where the teller ends up saying, "...and nobody has seen the killer ghost [or whatever] since that day...", and then, by prearrangement, somebody else jumps out from behind a bush and yells "Until now!!!" and lunges at the nearest bunch of kids. The guy who told the tale wasn't very convincing. And the guy who did the lunge stumbled :).

Well, there's a weenie story to tell here, and it's not about cooking hot dogs over the campfire :). So let's go...

... to the empty old house, where earlier in the day we'd spread out our sleeping bags in the huge living room near the fireplace. A quick pause to describe the room: It was more or less square, with one wall containing the front door, a (very dirty) window to the right, and a really big fireplace to the left. As you faced this front wall, on your left was the doorway to the kitchen; to your right was a doorway that led back to the bedrooms; and behind you was a smaller room that I assume was the dining room. (Incidentally, there was no indoor bathroom - an ancient outhouse was conveniently located about fifty feet out back, which you accessed via a kitchen door.) The room was big enough that all 25-30 of us could stretch out in our sleeping bags, and still have a foot or so between us and our neighbors in all directions.

Now, with the day's events ended, it was bedtime. Dark was upon us, and the house had no electricity, so our three adult leaders had their electric lanterns going. We all had our flashlights, too - which turned out to be very interesting, as events later unfolded.

The grownups had just gotten through telling us to get ready for bed, brush our teeth, and all that. Of course, few if any of us brushed our teeth. Maybe the kids with braces on their teeth, I guess. Except for the orthodontically- afflicted, though, I doubt too many boys crave the feel of a toothbrush any more often than necessary. Until they get old enough to start kissing girls, that is. Or, if they're smart, kissing other boys. It's safer. Boys who kiss girls get cooties :).

Teethbrushing having been skipped, we were all getting ready for bed, all 25- 30 of us. Our three adult leaders decided to step outside for a few minutes. They didn't say why, but based on past experience I figured it was a cigarette break. One of them told us they were going to be outside for a few minutes - we were to get ready for bed, no fighting, no delaying, we'll be keeping an eye on you, and all that. So they took one of the lanterns and went out the front door.

Well, when the cat's away... With that many 10 year-old boys, getting ready for bed would've been a chaotic process, even with adults present. Without them, we immediately and happily degenerated into behavioral meltdown. The room was in absolute anarchy within 15 seconds, and it went on for about two minutes. I don't remember everything, but the fun included pillow fights, sleeping-bag fights, dirty clothes fights, wrestling, screaming... you name it and we did it. I enjoyed myself thoroughly :). This came to a halt only because one of the adult leaders stuck his head inside the door and yelled at us to PIPE DOWN RIGHT NOW!!!! Thereafter, it was a more sedate process.

Now, a few social-science observations: At age 10, there's alot of variation in what boys wear to bed - at least it was true then, and I'll bet it's still the case today. Some kids wear pajamas, all the time - even on sleepovers and camping trips. Some sleep in PJs when they're with others, but underwear when alone. Some just sleep in underwear. There are subgroups of pajama-wearers: those who wore their underwear underneath (the majority), and those who didn't. You have the familiar subgroups of underwear-preference: briefs vs. boxers. (Boxers weren't the fashion back then; I knew very few 10 y/o boys who wore boxers - although I recall two or three who slept in boxers but wore briefs during the day.) A few sleep in their clothes, when they can get away with it. (I always thought that was kind of slack. It didn't stop me from doing it myself a few times when I felt lazy, however :)). And I never knew any boys who slept naked, but I guess they were/are out there, somewhere.

I was firmly in the underwear-only group (and briefs subgroup), and had been since around age 6-7. I never owned more than one pair of pajamas at a time from around age eight onward. If it was cold, I'd cave in and wear a T-shirt along with my briefs; if it was really cold (rare down South), I'd include socks. But mostly it was me and my Hanes (or Sears, or FotL, or whatever).

You also have those who change underwear before bedtime, and those who wait till the next morning, which is probably related to when you usually took your bath or shower. And some kids (and adults) only change every other day. (I suppose there are those who change even less often, and those who don't shower or bathe, but I don't wanna think about that. :)) On this camping trip, I don't remember any kid changing his underwear that evening or next morning. In fact, few boys if any changed on any one-night camping trips in my experience. I expect we all reasoned the same way I did: Your mom was going to make you take a bath the minute you got home anyway, so why bother?

In terms of actual changing, there were some boys who were more modest than others. I recall noticing boys on various campouts who would squeeze down into their sleeping bags fully-dressed, wiggle around for a minute, and then drag their clothes out and throw them aside. Somewhat less self-conscious were the kids who turned their backs when they took off their pants. Then there were those who didn't care, and changed in full view. I don't suppose I need to say which category I was in :).

(As always, bear in mind that this narrative is over-layered with 25-plus years of history and interpretation. All of the above comes out of my reflections now, at close to 40 years old, on the past. I don't mean to give the impression that I was sitting around in that house analyzing categories of bedtime attire. It was about the last thing little Danny would've done, believe me. I was about as analytical back then as a Venus flytrap. :))

Well, enough sociology. Back to the campout. Because of the confusion, I hadn't really paid much attention to the changing process itself, or who was wearing what. After being in youth sports for years, I didn't tend to react much to changing clothes, anyway, unless I had a specific reason, or a specific boy, in mind. So essentially, except for casually noticing that some boys wore PJs, some underwear, etc. (as noted above), I didn't give it that much thought. We were all changed and had mostly wriggled into our sleeping bags after a few more minutes, including me.

Now, here the plot thickens. We were lying there, arranged more or less in a square around the room, each kid maybe one foot from the others. I was near one edge, next to the doorway that led to the back of the house, along with most of the other kids from our sub-unit. Most of us were still talking and giggling, but it was relatively low-key. I imagine the evening would've ended up like most campouts - kids gradually talking less and less, and eventually everyone drifting off to sleep... except that our adult leaders had plans.

I never found out where they went or what they did, exactly. All I know is that after we'd been settled down for a few minutes, one of them came in, grabbed the remaining lantern, and said, "Y'all be quiet... we'll be back in a few minutes." Then he exited through the front door, leaving it open. I could hear their voices, and their footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway... and the sound was receding in the distance. They were going down the hill to where the cars were parked.

In retrospect, I'm pretty sure they had some beer or booze, or something like that, stashed in somebody's car. They didn't want us kids to see them drinking, so they didn't bring it back. It wasn't smoking pot or other drugs - that wasn't too common down South in the 70s, and they weren't the type anyway. Whatever the reason, they were gone for some time. I'll hazard a guess of about 20 minutes, but I really don't know - the events that unfolded after they left follow a distorted time scale in my mind. That was true at the time, and it's still true today.

At first, we didn't take advantage of their absence. We were settled by now. Some kids were shining their flashlights up around the high ceiling, looking for bats; some were speculating about ghosts; some were just talking - sports, school, all the usual topics. I was my usual motormouth self, talking to everyone around me about everything. It was all pretty quiet and low-key, still.

The plot thickens further. As you know by now, dares were common among us. Some kids would turn down dares and accept the (usually good-natured) ridicule; other kids rose to the challenge just about every time, like me. Most boys were in-between, and accepted some challenges and not others, depending on mood, the exact nature of the dare, and alot of other variables.

I wasn't paying attention to the other conversations around the room. Until, maybe five minutes after the leaders vanished, from over near the fireplace, a kid I didn't know said this, loudly: "I dare anybody to stand up and show us your dick while I shine the flashlight on you."

Dead silence, instantly, for about one second, while it sank in. Then, a frenzy of giggling. I'm sure we were all thinking the same thing: Was anyone going to be brave enough (or dumb enough) to take up the challenge? It was crazy. The leaders might come back any second - nobody had any idea how far away they'd gone. And the whole idea was impossibly radical. Your weenie was private... right?

Well, not to little Danny. I considered my weenie to be very public :). It took me about two seconds to make up my mind - and that delay was only while I considered whether the adults might come back. I decided it was worth the risk. Yeah, it was crazy - I knew that. But it was so incredibly cool.

But I'd hesitated. And that delay meant I wasn't the first to rise to the occasion. Before I could say anything, another voice from near the fireplace, very close to the kid who issued the challenge, said, "Yeah - I'll do it." When he started to crawl out of his sleeping bag, I recognized him - a boy named Jeff in one of the other sub-units. I knew Jeff - not well, but well enough to be surprised. He wasn't exactly shy, but he was quiet, and I'd never thought of him as a kid who accepted dares. I guess this one caught his fancy :).

I was a competitor, and getting beat to the punch by Jeff rankled me - I wasn't irritated with Jeff, but I was irritated with myself, for hesitating. And this came on top of not being the first to touch the electric fence earlier. There was no way I was gonna skip this one. And, totally aside from my pride... I wanted to show off my weenie. So, before Jeff was out of his bag, I said, "I'm gonna do it, too!" And I began unzipping my sleeping bag.

(Looking back, I now wonder if it was a set-up meant mainly for Jeff. He was over by the kid who issued the dare. Maybe the other boy dared him directly, and Jeff said he wouldn't do it unless he dared everybody? I tend to doubt it, but I can see it happening like that... one of those things I'll never know, most likely...)

I got myself extricated and started to get to my feet. Jeff was already standing, with at least one flashlight (presumably belonging to the kid who dared us) trained directly on the front of his briefs, and the small but unmistakable ridge inside them, pointed upward. As I got up, he hooked his thumbs in his underwear and pulled them down in front. And showed us his dick, just as promised. It was completely erect, sticking out proudly at a 45-degree angle from his pubis, completely illuminated in the harsh light, the center of attention... and desire, in the case of at least one boy present.

I don't remember exactly at what point in the process I got a boner. I know it was already stiff and throbbing with desire by the time Jeff showed us his erection. I was very consciously aware that I liked boys and sex by this time. And no mistake - to me, this was all about boys and sex. Some of my excitement came from seeing Jeff's stiffie. But more than that, I think, it was the moment itself, seeing his willing display and knowing I was going to put on my own, for everybody to see. I'd never had an audience that big before. The only parallel was playing grab-the-weenie at Y-camp, one year earlier. That was with around a dozen boys. This was over twice as many. And there was the whole spotlight thing. I knew that when I got up and showed off my cock, I was going to have the full attention of a roomful of boys. It was a big rush when I realized what I was doing.

As soon as I'd spoken up, somebody shone a flashlight on my face. Now, as I got to my feet, two or three more spotlights hit me, traveling from my face down to the tent in my briefs. I remember hazily feeling like I had to - wanted to - put on a show. I felt like I had to outdo Jeff. So I made a production out of exposing myself. I had this idea (probably from looking at Playboy magazine or some such thing) that it was sexy to do a little dance when you stripped. So I wiggled my butt and thrust my pelvis, a la Elvis, while pulling my briefs down. It felt good. I doubt it looked much like the Chippendales, but I was satisfied with myself :)).

I got my briefs down to my upper thighs and stopped. I thought for a split- second about stripping naked, but I didn't. I'd exposed more than Jeff, and it didn't seem necessary to go any further; and besides, I didn't want to shed my underwear completely and then get caught if the grownups came back suddenly. It was plenty. I had a bunch of flashlights on my cock by now, from all different parts of the room, and everybody was looking at me, including Jeff. Rush - bigtime.

If you've never done anything like this, it's difficult to describe. A beam of light has no substance, they say - just electromagnetic waves, or photons too small to detect. I guess that's true according to the laws of physics. I don't care. I felt those flashlights shining on my penis and testicles and groin and thighs. I could feel those eyes staring at me. Boys, looking at a boy - me. Stiff with desire. Center of attention, hub of the universe. I was so hot.

I'd been up and exposed for maybe 10 seconds (and Jeff for maybe 15), when a third boy stood up, over near the kitchen doorway. He hadn't spoken, and nobody noticed him until he was on his feet. A couple of lights hit him, and he promptly pulled the front of his briefs down and showed us his weenie. This boy was Freddie. I knew him about as well as I knew Jeff. Freddie's exhibition didn't surprise me as much as Jeff's - he seemed to be an outgoing kid, not the least bit shy. I'd never thought of him in this light, but it didn't strike me as a major departure from his personality.

Unlike Jeff and me, Freddie's dick was soft, and stayed that way. I have no idea what the others thought, but I was fascinated by the contrast. I'd never before seen two boys standing near each other in identical poses, one with a boner and the other flaccid. Jeff and Freddie were close to the same size, too - body size, and genital size. All three of us were completely prepubescent. Little-boy hard-ons for Jeff and me, two or three inches long and throbbing; little-boy dick on Freddie, too small to dangle, resting on his drawn-up balls and sticking out slightly.

Nobody was saying anything. Freddie never spoke a word the whole time, and after our opening announcements neither Jeff nor I spoke. And it was dead quiet in the room, except for faint night noises outside... and the sound of boys breathing. Maybe I'm reading too much into it now, 25-plus years later, but my memory is that the air was charged with tension, or electricity. It was unquestionably a sexual thing. Nobody could've been unaware of that fact. Jeff's and my erections showed how we felt about it, beyond doubt.

(I should add that I have no idea whether Jeff's display, or the motivation behind it, had anything to do with sexual desire for boys as such. Quite possibly it just that he accepted the dare for dare's sake, in macho-10-y/o- boy fashion, and then got a spontaneous erection. I had no reason, then or now, to think he was gay or bisexual, or even particularly interested in sex. Same for Freddie. I just know how I felt. On the other hand, if the statistics are correct in that one of every 10 individuals is gay or bi, then with 25-30 boys present... you do the math. :))

We stayed that way for what seemed like forever. In reality, I think it was maybe five minutes. I stayed excited and stiff the whole time; so did Jeff. I wasn't thinking coherently. My mind was swirling with wild ideas. I remember thinking about an orgy with all of us, every boy in the room, joining in. I remember thinking how cool it would be to suck Jeff's cock with everyone watching us in the spotlight. I thought about masturbating right there in front of everyone. All kinds of things.

Now, what happened next is still unaccountable to me, then and now. It was incredibly exciting - peak experience. But in the middle of everything, I got cold feet. Yep - Danny chickened out :). In the middle of this peak experience, out of nowhere, I got struck with this really paranoid feeling: the grownups were going to walk in any minute, and we would get our butts fried when they caught us... maybe get kicked out of the group... maybe they'd tell our parents... maybe it was illegal?... it was gonna be a bad scene. Fear, raw and unfiltered.

I wasn't prone to that kind of thinking at all, and I have no idea why I was struck by it, this time. But I was an impulsive kid, as you may have noticed. And this was no different. As soon as the thought hit me, I abruptly reached down and pulled up my underwear, announced "I'm done," and then dove down into my sleeping bag. I was certain the adults would walk in any second, and I wanted to look like I was asleep the whole time. I was afraid they'd know anyway, like there was a mark of Cain on me. I curled up inside my sleeping bag in a fetal position.

Even with my abrupt departure, nobody spoke. I guess they were still mesmerized by the whole thing. I don't know what the kids who'd been spotlighting me did - maybe they turned them on Freddie and Jeff; maybe they turned them off. I was buried inside my sleeping bag, not watching, feeling terror.

My instincts this time were dead wrong. The grownups did come back, of course. But it wasn't anything like immediately after my panic. And we had plenty of advance warning. I don't know how long it was after I dove for cover, but it was long enough for me to realize I was wrong.

I couldn't adequately decribe the unbelievably high feeling of standing there showing off with everybody looking at me. I don't know how to write about the instantaneous way that adrenaline-fueled sexual heat turned to the icy- stinging adrenaline of terror. And now, I can't adequately describe the emotion of feeling that fear slowly ebb, seeping out of me with the minutes, and knowing that Jeff and Freddie were till up there, and feeling the hollow place left by the departure of fear filling up with the pangs of regret...

I wasn't stressing over my mistake or anything. But it was regret, all the same: "Dammit, I choked." I didn't dwell on it, then. But in hindsight, I guess I was in an uncharacteristic don't-do-it mindset all that weekend: my reluctance about the electric fence; the hesitation about getting up in the spotlight in the first place; and now this abrupt departure. I don't know. Maybe it was really some inner sense of healthy self-preservation, trying to overcome my dare-devil impulsiveness, for a change :).

I think we all heard The Return of the Grownups more or less simultaneously. In the dead quiet of the room, I heard the faint sound of voices... and then footsteps on gravel. A bunch of panicky voices simultaneously: "They're coming!" and "Duck, y'all!" and "Turn out the lights!!" The sounds of returning authority were getting closer. I heard Jeff and Freddie scramble for cover, and the staccato sound of a dozen or more flashlights clicking off, and the room was plunged into darkness.

I vividly recall one sound in the midst of the confusion - the sound of someone's underwear elastic snapping back into place. It was either Jeff or Freddie, most probably - although it could have been someone else with his hand inside his briefs, suddenly interrupted...

Of course, the grownups weren't fooled into thinking we were sleeping little angels while they were gone. They didn't know what we'd been doing, but there was no way they could've missed all those flashlights cutting off at once. And they didn't. The footsteps got closer, changed as they left the driveway and came across the bare-dirt yard. Voices. They were here. We were all completely quiet. A moment of silence; the instant of calm before the hammer came down. And then one adult voice from the front doorway: "I know you're awake, boys - we saw the lights. Now, GET TO SLEEP!!"

Nobody said a word or moved. I imagine we were all thankful that it wasn't worse. We were alone now, every boy, separated each other and from the bonding experience we'd just gone through, now cocooned apart in our sleeping bags, each with his own fear-thrill of near-discovery... and whatever other emotions lingered.

The three adults stayed outside a few minutes longer, talking; then they came in with the lanterns, and rattled and banged around for a while, getting ready for bed. (I heard at least one of them brushing his teeth in the kitchen - the difference between boys and men, I guess. :)) After a while they got into their sleeping bags, and after a bit I suppose everyone went to sleep - I know I did at some point, not long after.

I only recall one sound emerging from the boy-ranks during this wind-down period while the leaders were busy preparing for bed: somebody laid down a nice, low-but-drawn-out fart. A punctuation mark to the whole experience, or maybe an editorial comment about the grownups. It produced a round of quiet giggling :). If the adults heard it, they didn't say anything.

I kicked myself a while longer for chickening out. But you know how it is - when you're a boy, you don't dwell on anything very long. I drifted into completely different thoughts after a little while, unrelated to sex or boys. The only particular thing I recall is thinking about a lousy black-and-white movie I'd seen not long before, titled "The Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow". It was about some kids who spend the night in a haunted house - a house not unlike the one we were staying in, to my impressionable mind. I wasn't afraid of ghosts, and in any case the film wasn't frightening. (I can't remember anything about that movie today, except that it was so unbelievably bad it was funny.) But I remember thinking, "Wonder if any ghosts are here...?" That thought, and others like it, followed me down into sleep.

The next morning, all through breakfast, and all through the morning activities, not a single word was said about the night's events. We were all our usual selves - boy-energy, happy to be alive, a million conversations at once. But not about the weenie-show. The weenie-show was like a taboo subject. I would guess some, maybe most, were embarrassed to speak about it. And after all, what was there to say? "Hey, Danny, you sure have a nice dick!" No, I can't see that :).

After the morning activity, which was a game of Capture the Flag, I think (we played that several mornings on camping trips, at any rate), we left for home, packed into vans and station wagons (and into the bed of one pickup truck that someone's dad drove up for the occasion... illegal nowadays, but fun as hell, the lucky dogs. :)) At that was about the end of things.

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I never did anything sexual with either Freddie or Jeff, unless you count fantasies :). I never saw them all that often, actually, before or after - except for this youth group, our paths didn't cross. I considered asking them over a few times, but never got around to it.

I think one of the remarkable things about this episode, is that it took place at all. I'll bet it's far less likely to happen today. For one thing, if all three adults went off and left 25-30 boys alone, even for 20 minutes, that youth organization would probably make sure their heads would roll. And I'm not sure they'd sanction sleeping in an abandoned house - what if the floor caved in, or something? Lawsuit city. Times are different...

And finally, my impression is that boys nowadays are so body-shy and ashamed, that a dare like that would probably go unanswered. Even back then, it was just three of us; boys nowadays would sooner accept a dare to walk over hot coals than to let anyone see them naked, on purpose. I'm not at all sure that the dare would be uttered, either - alot of kids would probably wonder about the speaker's sexuality. In a society where boys are too embarrassed to take showers after school phys-ed, and where one of the ultimate middle-school insults is to say "That's so gay", I don't see it happening. And that's a seriously sick situation. I don't think everyone should follow little Danny's boy-sex path - I know I probably shouldn't have done many things I did - but it's horrendously wrong when any alternative sexuality is ridiculed and kids are stomped because they might be gay.

Okay, lecture's over :). I'm thankful I had the chance to do something like this. If nothing else, it makes for great storytelling... :)