Scott the Eeper

The following story does not imply or depict sex involving minors (persons under the age of 18). As this is a fairly long read, here is a preview of what exactly you can expect: The protagonist is an attractive male who shall enjoy younger and more attractive females, a male fantasy. All scenes are mf, one is mff. Assuming plain vanilla sex can involve a big cock, big cum, blowjobs, and the like, there is very little kink and minimal ick factor. As a writer I have tried to be worthy. I hope you will enjoy.

Prologue

Scott worked as assistant groundskeeper at Camp Evergreen. While the camp didn't pay much, Scott put in the time and saved as much as he could. For ten years, he did everything Earl did from felling trees to fixing screen doors. Scott knew that with patience, he would one day inherit the old man's place.

As the years passed, Scott was sad to see Earl's strength ebb. Scott soon took on all of the heavy labor. Then one day, Earl called Scott to his bedside.

"Son, I might not be able to stay at camp this winter," he said. "They want me in the hospital to monitor my recovery, because they gotta change my heart meds due to the surgery." He let out a sigh. "The doctor's right of course, but not being here sucks."

"Why not retire?" Scott asked Earl. "Don't you want to relax for a change?"

"Nah, this was always going to be my retirement. Swinging a hammer is good for your health."

"I mean, I'm ready and waiting to take over."

"Yes, I suppose you are wondering why I just keep hanging on. There's one more thing I wanted to do, and now," he let out a deep sigh, "Now I guess my time is up. It's too late for me."

"Don't say that!"

"Let me finish. There's an auction coming up, you might be interested in it." He coughed and winced.

"What's on auction?"

"This camp."

"No way! The church is selling it?"

"They don't own it. The state does."

Scott paused as the words sank in. It seemed far-fetched, but he saw a glint in the old man's eye.

"You want me to buy this place?"

"Yup." Earl watched the boy's face closely.

"But there's no way--"

"Now just hold on there. Only residents of the county need apply, and they need to involve someone with forestry certifications. You have 'em already. A lot of foresters don't have time on their hands to take care of this place, believe me I know. Most of them can't even find the time to come check and see if this place is worth bidding on."

"Whew, I don't know though."

"I'm tellin' ya son! You could win this. The minimum bid is thirty grand. Have you got that much saved up?"

"Almost. I could probably get a loan for the rest."

"Do what you have to. Carol has residency in this county, just so you know. Watch out for her. She may not be a forester but she could contract one, same deal. She has loads of money, but I'm betting she doesn't know about this auction, so don't tell her."

"Right, gotcha," Scott replied. It was so odd, almost criminal. Was Earl planning to help him buy the camp out from under the parish?

"Not a word to Carol about this until you hold that deed in your hands. Understand?"

"Yes, old man. Now finish that chicken soup."

Soon after, Earl left Camp Evergreen, never to return. Scott only expected him to be gone for a few months. During that time, he visited the welcome lodge, where Earl had stayed and kept his personal belongings. He was used to nursing Earl to some extent, but there were no more clothes in Earl's hamper, no coffee cup on the night table. Mementos lined Earl's shelves, but nothing significant to Scott. The only thing that made Scott curious at all were Earl's books. Earl had an eclectic reading habit, but his bookshelf was a point of pride. He only allowed the best books to sit on that shelf. There were no books on carpentry or crafts, no romances or sci-fi fantasies that Earl was quite fond of. There were only a few classic works of fiction, and the rest was philosophy. Earl had often offered Scott to borrow one and read it.

"Men died for writing these words, you know. Wouldn't kill you to read some."

"I'd like to do that, someday," he said. Scott now felt he ought to really read one, but he wasn't sure which, and his camp duties were calling.

A few days later, he visited Earl at the hospital. He asked Earl what book he should read first. Earl said he should just read them all, but if he only read one, there was a paperback, a compilation of essays by Frost, Kipling, Orwell, and others.

Back at camp, Scott found the book and started reading the introduction. His mind wandered to the secret plan to buy the camp at auction. Even as he got to the meaty portion of the works, the very subject matter challenged him over and over to think about his failings and what his future could be if he let go of his security and serfdom.

He realized that for decades he had allowed his mother, his church, Gabrielle, and others to dictate how he lived his life. He had let them impose their will long enough. That deferential trait had to be stamped out if he had any hopes of achieving his own dreams. He vowed to change or break the rules. His age meant nothing, his money would be his agency. He committed to keeping the plan a secret, and follow through with it. Inspired by the first book, he visited Earl to talk about it. Earl was very pleased and told him which book he should read next.

Scott spent the rest of the long winter reading, visiting Earl to talk about the books. More often than not, he found Earl was under sedatives, but he left notes to keep Earl informed of what books he had finished.

Scott selected more books, first from the authors whose viewpoints he had tasted in the compilation. He was pleased to find other authors with even more critical insights. They told him of the power of responsibility, self-interest, and individual sovereignty -- the virtues of man. He also learned that it was God's will that he embrace these aspects of his nature. These ideas became a crucible to galvanize his purpose. Scott poured his soul into the mold, and in the spring he was forged anew. Gone was the Scott of old, the servant, the eunuch. An indelible streak of independence was etched into his soul.

Just before the end of winter, Earl passed away. A few weeks later, Camp Evergreen was placed on auction and Scott made his bid. There was no way to know if he would be outbid. Friday night, the results came in. He had won.

He filled out the forms, signed the paperwork, and provided his certifications. He still didn't own the camp outright, but it would be under his control once the state clerks certified the paperwork. So he waited, not uttering a word to anyone about it.

He was elated beyond words when he finally held the deed in his hands.

The cycle of life has a cadence and an order. Water flows down from the mountains. The doe takes care of her young, and the strongest buck takes all the doe. Compared to Earl and Carol, Scott was just a kid. It made no sense that he would exert dominion over the camp in place of his elders. It reversed the order of things. While Scott's gambit succeeded, it was now time to break the news to Carol and the church, and try to salvage his relationship with them so that camp could go on as usual.

"So, Carol, I bought Camp Evergreen on a state auction. I thought you should know."

"Oh come on Scott, that's just more of that crazy talk if you don't mind my saying so." Carol was the worst, always insinuating something about Scott's mental health.

"I'm serious."

"Whatever!"

He held up a copy of the deed.

"What? You really bought this camp? How dare you!" He would have preferred a period of incredulity, but it was time. As he expected, she turned into a carrot-haired pillar of fire in a fraction of an instant. He thought she might swing her Louis Vuitton at him.

"The thing is, you know, your job as event coordinator," he said, looking her dead in the eye. "I don't see how we are going to be needing you in that role anymore." Oh how he relished saying those words. He thought her eyes would pop out of her fat face, it was priceless. "I could take you on as assistant chef, if you wanted to—"

"No way!" she blared. She went back to her car and left camp. Scott watched her drive away, hoping that would be the last of her. She was on Pastor Steve's payroll when it came to her camp activities, and that was off the books anyway, so really he had no responsibility over her employment.

Determined to turn the tables on Scott, she took her grievances to Pastor Steve, who contacted him. They had a somewhat awkward phone conversation in which Scott explained his plans. He wanted the same kids back that summer, but he would also open the camp up to perhaps a small number of kids from other counties. Steve was always against such an arrangement, and when he found Scott was intent on this plan, he spoke of it to his congregation.

Scott was soon feeling the heat from all sides. The congregants were worried about outside influences, and Carol was desperately seeking an alternative site. Scott remembered Earl's words of advice: It was like poker. First he needed to wait for what Earl called a winning hand. That deed was his winning hand, and he could go all in. The church would be in a position to fold. They might bluff a little, but what could they do?

"You play that one hand," Earl predicted, "and win Camp Evergreen for years to come. If the campers come the first year, you'll get them every year. That's how you do it."

It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Scott just knew it was his calling. After all, he loved Camp Evergreen and he was already its caretaker. He knew the camp grounds like the back of his hand. He didn't particularly relish having the kids there, but it was how they paid the bills and in fact it was good to see familiar faces playing, singing, and praying from dawn till dusk.

Scott loved to be in nature, especially when he was in Camp Evergreen. Tending to the trees and flora led to countless encounters with wild creatures and the rhythm of life there. He knew the lakes and the wooded hills by name, even many of the names Earl had given to certain trees, cliffs, and bears. As with family, there were many moments of joy, such as viewing the blossoms of spring or finding birds with hatchlings in a snag. There were disappointments too. He was saddened whenever he found that an old tree had been stricken by lightning or disease, saddened most of all when Earl died. Through the ups and downs, the one thing that was missing was that he had no one there with him to share in witnessing these events. Earl had left an indelible impression on him for sure, but he was resting in peace. What Scott truly craved a loving and lovely female companion.

Scott was divorced, and it was all behind him. The storms had passed, and bright sunny days had come. He certainly didn't want Gabrielle back, nor had they any children. At first she loved their surroundings ("in Creation" she called it), but she came to decide it wasn't enough for their kids. As the years passed, he promised her that things would get better, but his job at camp never really paid much.

She was fair and pretty, he played guitar and was admired the church folk for his faith and honesty. In bed, his gifts were unmistakable. She felt that material things would come in time, but as time wore on she began to question her early optimism. She couldn't imagine choosing to go through her life poor, nor driving hours upon hours each week in her decrepit car to travel between family and Scott.

Gabrielle tried to bolster their income and savings by taking up work back in town. She landed a high paying job, and was soon in the company of many successful men who were attracted to her. Things deteriorated from there. As their marriage crumbled, she took her disappointment out on him rather than try to work things out. She had tried to be the center of his world, but he would not adjust to that focus. As she left him, his orbit remained ever around camp and nature.

That was six years ago. He had never found a girl to be with since. While the yearning for sex was intense, he shied from the prospect of a meaningless encounter.

Camp Evergreen

Every summer, the serene quiet of camp was subsumed by a wave of joyous kids and young adults that flooded in from the local parish. It was Scott's job to fell and haul and mend and trim so that there was plenty of nature, but things were also tidy and safe for play. To the kids, he was just a fellow church member, one whose job involved attending camp and playing guitar. The older ones knew that camp was his home.

Kids loved the camp. It was a beautiful place nestled in a forest of tall, healthy trees, with plenty of cooling shade for the summer heat. The kids got along well, with a minimum of teasing and fighting. They loved and trusted Scott. The kids ardently looked forward to camp each year.

Summer camp was great for parents too. Many had attended before having children of their own. For a reasonable price, their kids put down their video game controllers for a solid three weeks to play and grow with all of their best friends. Parents would get a respite from all the laundry, dirty socks and messy rooms, knowing their kids were doing everything worthwhile with their vacation, from archery to zoology. Camp was a no brainer, a must for parents.

Up to then, the assumption had been that "inner city kids" (really, any minorities except Earl) would alter the camp's harmonious culture. This in turn would drive away families and ultimately not help their bottom line. It was a market both Steve and Carol would rather eschew, and she still felt strongly about it. If the congregation stood with her, they would not send their kids to camp that year. Carol suspected he had gone deeply into debt to finance his purchase, she was determined to see him fail. After all, the church could easily buy up the camp once he was forced to sell.

Scott was aware of Carol's intentions, having heard enough from his mother who had attended church regularly for some time. He was fully committed so there was nothing to do but welcome the parish and advertise for new attendees. Still, he recognized the fact that deep down, he had always despised Carol and now he loathed her.

Carol had started to badmouth him whenever the opportunity arose, campaigning against him. She said he was crazy and unstable, even to those who would be his counselors. It troubled him because he wanted badly to succeed. Also, he was sweet on several of the women counselors, and thought that maybe one of those women might some day fill the hole in his life left by Gabrielle. He hoped that if he made a little more money or had more power, that some of the women in the church might think better of him.

Although he barely made the trip to church bi-monthly, he took one Sunday morning off to confront Carol and defend his actions right there in the main chapel after service. He sat through the sermon. When he rose to make his announcement, he said very little, and basically encouraged everyone to come. Few seemed to outwardly sympathize, and although the situation frustrated Scott he knew he needed to maintain a peaceful facade. Women don't like angry men and the opinion of the congregation would turn on mothers and daughters. It always did.

Three weeks passed, with very little results from his advertising. A few church members signed up their kids, despite the boycott. The following week, a flood of applications came in. Hannah, a young newlywed whose husband had deployed to Afghanistan, had told the congregation in plain terms that nothing was going to change and everyone who needed to send their kids to camp should sign them up, same as last year. She added that she was going to be a counselor there.

To Scott's great fortune, Carol's boycott imploded. As the checks came in, Scott realized that there was still some confusion about the new arrangement. There was no other explanation for it, as most checks were still made out to the church itself. Frustrated, he placed all of the checks in an envelope. He would soldier on with camp, and issue invoices instead.

One of his administrative duties was to appoint his counselors -- a cadre of paying attendees who would herd their troupes around, lead groups in the day's scheduled activities, and so on. Camp counselors were critical to the camp's success, and for legal reasons he insisted that none of them be a minor. Some die-hard attendees were as old as twenty-six. It was a testament to how much a part of the church Camp Evergreen was. As the counselor slots filled up, Scott began to think that indeed, camp was going to proceed more or less as usual.

Two days before camp started, Scott was busy repairing a screen door that had slammed itself ajar during a wind storm. The screws had worked the hinge loose from the frame. It was a common problem after a nor'easter. Naturally, he used a technique to fix it he had learned from Earl. For Scott, the camp was full of signs of Earl's handy work, and when he found Earl's work it always brought back memories of the unassuming autodidact.

Earl had decided to drop out of school at the age of fifteen, but he was unusually wise and consistent. Somehow he had never touched a computer or smart phone. He read a few papers and was troubled by the course of human events. Earl had been a journeyman craftsman, master forester, and a student of philosophy. To Scott, he was more of a father than his old man ever was. With camp about to start and Scott now fully in charge, he dared to imagine that Earl might be looking down on him from heaven and smiling with pride.

Scott finished the repairs and looked at his watch. The day was nearly done. He had set the enrollment deadline for today, but he would wait until the stroke of midnight. He went to his room in the back of the welcome lodge and reviewed his enrollment roster. On the one hand, he could understand why Carol had always insisted on setting the deadline a full week in advance. There was a lot of work to do with schedules and group rosters. Then again, the boycott had forced him to be as accommodating as possible. As luck would have it, one more parent announced her child's enrollment via email. Scott did a little math and discovered that he almost had a shortage of counselors. He felt he could squeak by, assuming none of the counselors left early. Midnight seemed like ages away. He ate supper and caught a quick nap.

His alarm went off at midnight, and Scott dragged himself back to his laptop to finalize some of the details on his spreadsheets. He was beginning to hate Carol's job. At 2 am he finally saved what he had, knowing there would be more to do, and crashed into bed.

In the morning he remembered that he hadn't showered the night before and soaped himself rather thoroughly. Then, slinging on his tool belt, he headed to the docks to take care of an urgent albeit easy repair.

Scott had asked the counselors to come to camp the day before the official start. This would give him a chance to give them a tour and go over the rules. They did not need to come until mid-afternoon, but Scott still hoped to finish the repair soon, so that he had the rest of the day open to whatever unexpected challenges might arise.

Aster

It was still early when Aster arrived. She had been a counselor the previous year, and was a veteran attendee besides. She left her bags by the welcome lodge and went looking for Scott. The early morning cool had given way to a breezy, warm summer day. It wasn't long at all before she found the camp's keeper down by the swimming docks.

"Hi Scott!" she called, skipping and bounding down the dirt road.

Scott waved, and took in the sight of the surefooted blonde for a moment. Thinking it was still early, he glanced at his watch. It was barely half past nine.