The Bad Life Chapter 7.1 - The Men at the Campground

<In the spring of 2002, I was discharged from the military.>

I answered while rolling a joint. We were sitting in the freight car of a train, and it was just the two of us in there. Matt kept asking questions.

<Were you injured?>

I rolled up my short-sleeved shirt to show my shoulder. It was a through-and-through bullet wound I got in Afghanistan in the spring of 2002. It had been over a year, but I still had to take painkillers occasionally. The doctor said it was a lifelong aftereffect.

I rolled up my sleeve, exposing my shoulder, and lit the joint. I inhaled deeply and leaned back against the wall. The metal wall rattled loudly every time the train jolted. When I first rode the train, my back and hips felt like they were being beaten, but I had gotten used to it by now.

Matt hesitated for a moment before climbing onto my lap. He sat very close—practically on my groin. He leaned in so close our bodies were almost pressed together and traced the scar on my shoulder with his fingertips. Matt’s eyes were filled with blatant curiosity. But curiosity wasn’t the only thing in those eyes. I turned my gaze toward the gap in the door.

The heavy metal door, though latched, remained open about a hand’s width and clattered constantly. Through the gap, I watched the vast fields passing by. The fields were entirely bathed in a vivid red sunset.

I took another deep drag of the joint. I felt languid. Matt reached for my hand and took the joint. He inhaled the smoke and blew it long and slow into my face. His red, plump lips, almost greedily sensual, curved into a smile. He leaned in for a kiss.

I turned my head.

<I’m getting off soon.>

Matt, still sitting on my groin, subtly rubbed his hips.

Instead of answering, I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him off. Matt tried to resist, but he couldn’t overpower me. Reluctantly moving aside, he grumbled loudly. Ignoring him, I crawled toward the door.

As the train jolted, the door rattled unsteadily, and I peered at the scenery outside through the gap. Maybe because of the joint, the landscape looked mottled. It was my first time going to Mimes, but I wasn’t excited. My only thought was hoping the motel bed’s springs were decent.

As expected, we soon arrived at the station. The sun had just set, and everything was dim. My only luggage was a large military duffel bag. I slung it over my shoulder and jumped off the freight car. My body was stiff and sore. We left the station together and went straight to buy a used car. Matt, nearly out of money, owed me eight hundred dollars. In exchange, I kept the car keys. I figured I’d never see the money anyway, so I had no intention of giving him the keys in the first place.

Once we got a decent car, my worries eased. We stopped at a cheap diner, ate burgers, and left. I wanted to hit the road right after eating, but Matt insisted he was tired. After some back-and-forth, we decided to stay one night in town. I guessed why Matt was being stubborn, so I bought condoms along with cigarettes. We checked into a motel near the station.

As soon as I came out of the bathroom, Matt clung to me. Having already rejected him once on the train, I knew he’d sulk if I refused again. I scooped him up and carried him to the bed. Matt was about a hand-and-a-half shorter than me, with a slender build, soft and smooth skin like a woman’s, and rosy cheeks and lips that made him look pretty. He barely had any facial hair, and there was little about him that seemed particularly masculine, but when I stripped him down, his cock was quite large.

We rolled around naked on the bed, tangled together. Matt naturally lay beneath me, wrapping his thighs around my waist and pulling me close. I straightened up and pushed his legs off. Sitting on his hips, Matt’s eyes widened.

<Why?>

<I don’t… do penetration.>

I answered slowly. Matt looked surprised.

<Really?>

<Yeah.>

I replied shortly, then set Matt’s cock upright and put a condom on it. Spreading my legs, I held his cock and slowly lowered myself onto it. As the slow insertion happened, Matt closed his eyes tightly, moaning with pleasure. Once it was fully in, I let out a sigh. I didn’t enjoy being on top, so after a while, Matt sat up and thrust.

He seemed incredibly turned on by being with a man much taller and more muscular than him. He went at it twice more in succession, barely pausing. My body, already sore from the freight car journey, ached even more after sex. When it was over, I was completely exhausted and collapsed onto the bed. All I wanted was to sleep, but Matt wouldn’t let me go easily. Clinging to my shoulder, he obsessively kissed and sucked at the scar from my bullet wound, whispering.

<I didn’t know you’d bottom.>

Matt said with a playful laugh.

<I mean, you didn’t seem like the type…>

<Not to your liking?>

<No, no. It was good. Really.>

Matt said, kissing my cheek and ear.

<Just unexpected, that’s all.>

I didn’t feel the need to explain to a guy I’d just met yesterday why I didn’t do penetrative sex, or what the boys who first taught me about sex were like, or any of that. So I just nodded briefly, closed my eyes, and felt the exhaustion. I wanted to sleep.

*

The bed springs weren’t too bad. I woke up in the morning feeling refreshed. Matt was still fast asleep while I finished shaving. He only stirred, rubbing sleepy eyes, when I came out of the shower. Sitting on the bed, Matt clung to my arm, whining that he wanted waffles with lots of jam and cream. I threw on some clothes and went out.

I didn’t mind Matt. We’d met just the night before last. Helping load cargo onto the freight car earned us some money and a free train ride. Matt was small and skinny but surprisingly strong and gutsy, which gave me a good first impression. We spent the night in the freight car drinking beer, and every time the train stopped, we’d open the door and piss into the layered darkness outside, which helped us bond.

Matt used to work as a low-level employee in the PR team of a wind turbine manufacturing company in Wyoming. <I got caught screwing the team leader, who was married with two or three kids. Got fired on the spot,> Matt confessed, shrugging. After losing his job, he blew his money gambling at a casino, living recklessly until he was broke. With rumors of his affair spreading and his situation getting dire, he decided to move to Mimes for a new job, which is how he met me.

I didn’t trust most of his nonsense, but I believed one thing: he was flat broke. Still, despite his exaggerations and occasional dim-wittedness, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. That’s why I suggested he come with me to Laverham to look for work. I was bored traveling alone anyway. And after last night, I found he wasn’t bad at sex either. Buying him some cheap waffles was no big deal. I got the waffles with jam and cream, just as he wanted.

Matt was still lying naked on the bed. I sat at the edge and handed him the waffles. He took a big bite, and cream dripped onto his pale thigh. With cream smeared on his rosy lips, Matt grinned suggestively.

<Cream. It fell.>

It was morning, and he was half-erect. I got off the bed, grabbed his ankles, and pulled him toward me. I draped his legs over my shoulders and licked the cream off his thigh. Matt’s well-groomed thighs were smooth and soft. While I sucked his cock, he ate the waffles, smearing cream on my hair with his sticky hands. It annoyed me, but I didn’t push him away. I just wanted him to finish quickly so we could leave.

As I rubbed the tip with my tongue and sucked, he soon came in my mouth.

<Sorry.>

Matt said in a tone that didn’t sound sorry at all. I spit the cum into a tissue. Matt, his face flushed, looked up at me with a cheeky grin. I leaned down and lightly kissed his sweet, jam-and-cream-covered lips.

<Get washed up. It’s my first time to Laverham, so we need to leave early.>

<What about you?>

Matt grabbed my crotch without hesitation.

<You’re hard too.>

<I’m good. Let’s hurry. We’ve got a long way to go.>

The departure wasn’t smooth. Unlike when he worked in the freight car, Matt was sluggish. I could tell he was testing me, acting out on purpose, but I let it slide. While he got ready, I checked the used car we bought yesterday.

I popped the hood to inspect the engine, checked the tires, cleaned the glove box and floor mats, and opened the doors to air out the musty smell, all while smoking. Matt showed up, wearing sunglasses and dragging his luggage. We left at eleven in the morning, much later than planned.

We hit the open country road, listening to Ray Charles’ hits. A well-paved road stretched endlessly through the middle of empty fields. It was a full day’s drive to Laverham, assuming two people alternated driving for sixteen hours straight without getting lost. There was a shortcut, but since it was my first time, I chose the easier, longer route.

Matt hadn’t been a great partner since we left the motel. He couldn’t read a map at all and forgot we were supposed to switch driving, drinking vodka instead. Whether on purpose or not, he was a bit of a dimwit. Still, his constant chatter kept things from getting boring, which was a plus.

Luckily, I was good at reading maps (being ex-military, it was a given), had the stamina to drive for hours without tiring (also thanks to the military), and didn’t need to talk much (Matt was a chatterbox). The only concern was whether Matt would hold up when we got to Laverham.

We were headed to Hugh Forest, where a large campground was being built. They were hiring laborers for a few months, paying three or four thousand a week. It wasn’t bad money, but the work would likely be tough, and I wasn’t sure Matt could handle it. He seemed strong and gutsy enough when I made the offer, but after feeling him up last night, his soft, smooth hands and feet suggested he’d never done hard labor.

<By the way, Ray, where are you from? You said you were in the South, but your accent doesn’t sound like it.>

Matt, who’d been talking nonstop, suddenly asked. He must’ve run out of things to say. I answered honestly.

<I’m from California. I only worked briefly as a forest ranger during hunting season in Virginia. Got fired from that too.>

Matt lit a cigarette, and I reached out. He slipped the filter between my fingers and asked.

<How’d you know there was work in Mimes?>

I took a drag and answered.

<Met some hunters from Mimes in Virginia. They said there might be work out here, so I came.>

<Where’s home then?>

At that, I stared at the wide-open road and slowly exhaled smoke.

<Don’t have one.>

<What do you mean? Like, your address.>

<My address is some crumbling motel in Virginia. Probably gone out of business by now… I was the only guest.>

I flicked the cigarette ash out the window. When I glanced at Matt, he was scrutinizing my face suspiciously. I gave him a slight smile.

<What’s wrong? Suddenly want to get out of the car?>

<…>

Matt pressed his lips together tightly and waved his middle finger. He jerked his seat back and turned his head away, sulking. To appease him, I said.

<Don’t worry, I’ll let you out whenever you want.>

That seemed to genuinely upset Matt. He even closed his eyes. I burst out laughing and tossed the cigarette butt out the window. There wasn’t a single car on the road besides ours. Only the intense summer sunlight baked the pavement.

Matt, still sulking, fell asleep as is. I woke him up around four in the afternoon. We stopped to eat a late lunch. The diner, with the air conditioning cranked up, had a relaxed atmosphere with just a few people loitering. Matt refused to say a word to me. He kept flipping his phone open and shut, staring out the window. I couldn’t tell if he was still upset or just not fully awake. Either way, cheering him up would be easy, so I didn’t worry too much. Instead, I chatted with the waitress.

<Is it still a long way to Laverham?>

I asked while taking a coffee mug. The waitress handed me a menu and answered.

<Quite a ways to go. Where in Laverham are you headed? You could get really lost on those mountain roads.>

<To the new campground… I’ll have a cheeseburger.>

I handed the menu back right away. She didn’t leave immediately and leaned on the counter, continuing to talk.

<Oh, the campground. That place is nice. There’s a drama being filmed nearby, so it’s crawling with people. You won’t have to worry about getting lost.>

<What kind of drama?>

This time, Matt chimed in. He flashed a friendly smile.

<I’ll have a turkey sandwich.>

The waitress seemed to take a liking to Matt’s charming face and warm smile. She turned to him and replied.

<Not sure exactly. It’s a new drama… The crew heading that way stops here to eat a lot.>

She added with a proud tone.

<I’ve seen a few actors too. Don’t know their names, though…>

Since the diner was still quiet, the waitress lingered. Matt seemed to perk up while talking to her. I didn’t join the conversation anymore and focused on eating my cheeseburger. If the route was easy to navigate, I’d gotten all the information I needed.

When we left the diner, Matt took the wheel. I caught some sleep while he drove. It was a straight road, so there was no worry about getting lost. Around midnight, I took over. We had to enter the mountain roads, which changed things. Matt, exhausted from driving six or seven hours straight, crawled into the backseat and passed out as soon as we switched.

I turned on the taillights, studied the map, and drove into the mountains. Matt’s light snoring filled the car as I kept driving. As the waitress said, the route wasn’t hard to follow. There were cloth markers tied to branches, likely set up by the drama crew. Thanks to that, we arrived earlier than expected. Just before two in the morning, we reached the campground.

The dim campground was eerie, with half-built log cabins and scattered construction materials. Weaving through the materials, I drove deeper in and spotted a small lodge facing the forest. The lodge was dark, except for a faint light spilling from one window. We’d finally arrived. I shook Matt awake in the backseat.

The guy on duty was half-asleep, worn out by the heat. The lodge had no air conditioning, and the air was stifling. I knocked on the desk, startling the man awake. He had a scruffy beard, a red nose, and sweat-soaked armpit and belly hair. Not a great first impression.

The big-nosed man rubbed his eyes with the back of his thick hand and rummaged through a drawer. In a rough, gravelly voice, he asked.

<Sent by Jerry? Uh, what’s the name…>

<Goodman.>

<Right, Goodman. Goodman… Raymond Goodman, right?>

<Yes. Want to see the recommendation letter?>

While we talked, Matt stood a good distance behind me. The man leaned over to look at him.

<And you? Who sent you?>

<Oh, he’s not recommended. Met him on the way. If there’s any work…>

I started to answer, but the man cut me off. Matt didn’t seem too disappointed. It was as if he’d expected it. He nodded and said.

<Can’t head back in the middle of the night, so let me stay till morning.>

The man ignored Matt and spoke to me.

<Alright, how do you want the advance? Cash? Cash is better. Unless you get robbed.>

He looked up at me and added.

<With your size, I doubt anyone’s robbing you.>

The payment was settled quickly. Big Nose handed me the advance and a room key.

<You’ve got the room to yourself for now, but workers will show up soon. Then you’ll share with six guys. Shower and bathroom are communal.>

<When does work start?>

He answered dismissively, then added quickly.

<Oh, and don’t mess with the drama folks filming nearby.>

<Anything else?>

<Nothing. Just don’t piss all over the place. Use the damn bathroom, you bastards.>

Grumbling, he returned to the cot where he’d been napping. He didn’t say another word about Matt.

Matt, reading the room, followed me up the stairs. The door was flimsy, and though it locked, it seemed pointless. The walls were thin too. There were three empty bunk beds. I shoved my duffel bag under one and collapsed onto it. Matt immediately climbed on top of me. His sticky lips touched mine, but after driving all day, I was too exhausted to be in the mood. I turned my head, and Matt, pouting, slid into the opposite bunk. I fell asleep before I could care.

*

<Hey, wake up.>

A hand tapped my shoulder. I waved it off and rolled over. I’d been driving nearly ten hours yesterday, damn it. I pulled the sheet over my head, but an unfamiliar hand yanked it off. I had no choice but to open my eyes. Rubbing my heavy eyelids, I sat up. A stranger in a cowboy hat leaned against the bunk bed railing. I glared at him, frowning.

<What?>

My voice came out hoarse from a dry throat.

The cowboy said.

<Your friend, the redheaded kid. He’s gone. That okay?>

Matt must’ve left. It didn’t matter. We’d only met briefly, and I’d only brought him along for company. With no job here, it made sense for him to leave ASAP. Waking me up for that? I nodded halfheartedly and buried my face in the pillow. But the cowboy’s next words jolted me awake.

A worse feeling than losing the car hit me. I scrambled off the bed and dragged out the duffel bag I’d shoved underneath. Even before unzipping it, I had a bad feeling, and I was right. The advance I’d received at dawn, along with all the cash I’d brought from Virginia, was gone.

I was dumbfounded. He’d taken everything worth taking, leaving only a few worn-out pairs of underwear and stretched-out shirts.

That little rat bastard. I kicked the empty bag. All the cash I had was gone. There wasn’t even a bank in this mountain village. With just a pub or diner or two, getting to a town with a bank would take a while. And to top it off, the car was stolen. In the two years since my discharge, wandering around, I’d never been screwed over like this. Right after discharge, I was on high alert for scams. Two years later, I’d gotten careless.

<…>

I looked up, and the cowboy stood silently a few steps away. Feeling bad for snapping at him, I softened my voice and asked.

<When did that bastard take off?>

<Shit. No way to catch him now.>

I sighed, then just flopped onto the floor. The cowboy tossed out a comment.

<Wide awake now? Let’s grab lunch.>

I didn’t want to move, but lying there would just make me stew over the lost money. I got up. The cowboy, whistling for some reason, led the way.

The so-called diner wasn’t anything fancy. A large vinyl tent next to the lodge served as both kitchen and dining area. About five or six people were eating lunch at scattered plastic tables. Among them was the big-nosed guy from last night’s shift. I grabbed stew, bread, and a beer with the cowboy and sat among the group.

Turns out, the cowboy wasn’t a drifter but a Laverham local, nicknamed by everyone. He drove a truck delivering construction materials and didn’t live at the campground. Lasso was three years older than me, but his thick mustache made him look thirteen years older. A huge alligator tattoo, mouth wide open, stretched from his neck to his shoulder. His ominous nickname and the scars and tattoos suggested a rough guy, but surprisingly, Lasso had a smooth, easygoing personality and occasionally threw out lame jokes.

He tossed a joke at me, having been cleaned out overnight.

<Even if you lost everything, you’ve still got your two balls. That’s all a man needs.>

Big Nose chimed in crudely.

<What good are two balls if you can’t afford a whore to use them on?>

Instead of replying, I piled stew onto my bread and shoved it in my mouth.

<Why would he need a whore? With his looks, women would line up for him.>

This time, instead of answering, I just chewed on my bread and shrugged. Lasso spoke up.

<Seriously. You’re way better looking than those actors swarming over there.>

Thanks to Lasso’s comment, the conversation shifted to the drama shoot, but it was all trivial talk about rating the actors’ appearances. I stayed out of it and quietly ate my stew.

Surprisingly, relations with the filming crew seemed amicable, and there was a good reason for it. Apparently, when the shoot’s water pipe broke down recently, some of the workers stepped in and fixed it cleanly. They solved in a couple of hours what the crew had been struggling with all day, so gratitude was due. Plus, while fixing the pipe, the workers also spruced up the crew’s temporary lodging, which naturally fostered good relations. Because of this, the filming crew invited the workers to their almost nightly barbecue parties.

<You should go check if there’s anything to fix over there.>

Big Nose, who’d been excitedly recounting the situation, suddenly addressed me.

<If you’re lucky, you might unclog an actress’s toilet and get a chance to ride her ass.>

<A woman’s ass is no big deal. Landing a male actor’s ass, now that’s real luck.>

I retorted, raising my beer bottle. Everyone burst out laughing, but I didn’t laugh, just chugged my beer.

In the afternoon, two new workers arrived. They were barely twenty, fresh from quitting pig herding in Nebraska to come to Mimes. Still young, their chins sported patchy beards. One of them, a short guy the size of a peanut, carried a big Nikon camera and disappeared right after arriving, saying he was going to snap photos of the actors.

I got a two-hundred-dollar advance from Big Nose—he was the site supervisor—and went down to the village with him. The village wasn’t far from the campground, but the steep uphill path took a good twenty or thirty minutes. I bought a pack of cigarettes, a toothbrush, soap, and other essentials before returning. Back at the camp, the workers had pulled out hunting rifles and were playing a shooting game. Seeing me return, Lasso waved me over.

<Show us what you’ve got, Marine.>

His face flushed from the heat, Lasso handed me a rifle. Instead of taking it, I glanced at the targets. A few Coca-Cola cans sat on a log. I pushed the barrel aside, refusing.

The workers jeered as soon as I declined. I flipped them off and headed back to the lodge. Still jet-lagged, I slept through the afternoon.

Evening was much quieter than the day. Everyone, including the new workers, had gone to the filming site.

I stayed behind with Big Nose. I wasn’t uninterested in the shoot, but thoughts of Julia made it feel awkward.

There was no real reason to worry. Julia wasn’t there, and she was a movie actress, not a drama actress. Even if I ran into her colleagues, they wouldn’t easily connect me to her. Common sense said no one would link a white-trash drifter like me to Julia. Besides, while I looked a lot like her when we were kids, that resemblance had faded with age. I just didn’t want to mingle in a place that uncomfortably reminded me of her.

Instead, I had dinner alone with Big Nose. He was interested in the filming crew but didn’t mix with them. From his offhand remarks, he seemed to both admire and envy city folks. Maybe that’s why he liked that I wasn’t interested in the shoot. He spent the evening chattering like we were buddies, saying I didn’t seem like some empty-headed musclehead who bragged about his strength. Since it didn’t hurt to stay on the supervisor’s good side, I played along and kept him company. That night, I went to bed early before the others returned.

The next day, more workers arrived—four or five in a row. Feeling refreshed, I explored the campground. The camp was supposed to have been completed long ago, but due to budget issues or disputes with environmental groups, construction had stalled for years before resuming. As a result, half-built log cabins dotted the site. It looked bleak at first glance, but walking around quietly, the serene, peaceful atmosphere wasn’t bad. It reminded me of my time as a forest ranger in Virginia.

The forest being developed into Hugh Forest was lush and deep, and the huge lake beside the campground was beautiful. The tall trees had green leaves, and the lake’s water was clear and clean. The only downside was that, being in the mountains, cell phones barely worked, but otherwise, it was an excellent spot for a retreat.

After exploring the campground, I swam in the lake to cool off. A few young workers were already at the dock, swimming or sunbathing.

Since work hadn’t started yet, the campground turned into a daytime drinking fest. Shooting games were frequent, and sometimes a gunshot would jolt me awake from a nap. I occasionally joined the guys, drinking and playing cards, but I never went to the filming site’s barbecue parties. Life went on like that for a week. More workers arrived, and my room filled with five other guys, reeking of sweat and foot odor.

The day before work officially began was slightly different. The filming crew came to the campground in the middle of the day.

Exhausted by the heat, they stripped off their clothes as soon as they arrived and dove into the lake. I set up a camping chair in the shade and watched them swim. Other workers lounged in the shade or sat at the dock, mingling with the crew. Most of the women wore bikinis, and a few strikingly beautiful ones—likely actresses—caught the workers’ eyes instantly.

Smoking and watching people swim and drink beer, I stood up. It felt awkward, and I wanted to leave. I left the lively lakeside and wandered into the quieter campground. As I walked slowly, I saw a man in a swimsuit hurrying through a stack of logs. Our eyes met briefly. He doubled back and shouted.

<Hey, where’s the bathroom around here?>

He seemed desperate.

The campground was a chaotic mix of dug-up dirt, half-built cabins, and scattered materials, so explaining wouldn’t likely help him find it. Flicking my cigarette, burned down to the filter, I replied.

<Just piss anywhere. You won’t find it…>

Then I remembered Big Nose’s stern warning from my first day—don’t piss just anywhere. Sighing, I walked quickly toward the man.

<Let’s go together. I was heading that way anyway.>

Up close, he looked like one of the actors. He had a polished, handsome face, though his expression showed he urgently needed the bathroom. Without further talk, I strode ahead, and he followed closely. As soon as we reached the bathroom, he darted inside.

I went into the nearby makeshift shower room. I hung my shirt on the windowsill, pulled down the showerhead, and doused myself with cold water. Years in the Middle East had made me accustomed to heat, but the midday sun still warmed my body. I splashed cold water on my head and wiped my face with the shirt. The man approached, looking much more relaxed.

<Thanks to you, I didn’t piss my pants.>

He spoke casually.

<You work here?>

<Yeah.>

I slung my shirt over my shoulder and answered. His gaze was odd. He looked me over and asked.

<What’s your name?>

<Raymond.>

<Raymond. Thanks.>

He smiled brightly and left. I watched his back as he walked away. It was brief, but his appraising look felt familiar. My comment to Big Nose was a joke, but now it seemed like it could become reality. The only difference was that, instead of me topping, it’d be him.

The filming crew stayed at the campground until evening, hosting a barbecue party. I still had no interest in mingling, so I lingered on the outskirts. Holding a plate of pork, I ate alone, half-reclining behind a tall stack of logs. Sipping beer and listening to birds, insects, and the distant chatter from the campground, I noticed a shadow fall across the logs. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. Even during the barbecue, and when he slipped through the logs earlier, his gaze had been subtle but persistent.

I wiped my beer-soaked lips. The shadow drew closer. I looked up. It was that actor, name unknown, holding a beer bottle with a slightly mischievous smile.

<Hey, Raymond.>

<Hey.>

<Were you waiting for me?>

He asked slyly. I nodded. He laughed.

<You don’t look like you were, which is kinda cute.>

I didn’t answer, just tilted my head to look at him. He stepped closer without a word. His lower body was right in front of me. I set down my beer and unzipped his pants. He slid his hand into my hair, stroking and teasing it playfully. I pulled his cock out and put it in my mouth. It started soft but gradually hardened. I opened my mouth wide, taking it all in. He moaned, stroking the back of my head.

<You’re good at this.>

He murmured, gently tilting my head with the hand gripping it. His touch was soft. I looked up at him, holding the tip in my mouth. He toyed with my ear and whispered.

<Your face is decent too. A bit rough around the edges, but I like that.>

Being called rough didn’t feel great, but it wasn’t exactly wrong, so I kept sucking quietly. What I didn’t expect was him lifting his foot to step on my crotch. Startled, I opened my mouth, and his cock slipped out. He pressed down harder.

<You’re hard. I knew you’d be into this.>

I was speechless. He grabbed the back of my head and rubbed his cock on my face. Instinctively, I took it back in my mouth, and his laughter rang out above me. His voice was nice, even his laugh. He asked.

<Raymond, wanna come to my trailer?>

I had to start work tomorrow, so I shook my head. He said it was a pity but didn’t push. He came in my mouth, keeping his cock inside while pressing my crotch with his foot. I got off quickly in my pants from the pressure. With his cock filling my mouth, I could barely breathe.

When he finally pulled out, he bent down to look at me. His eyes were handsome. He spoke.

<Pervert.>

Instead of answering, I swallowed the cum in my mouth.

He said we’d meet again and left. I sat there, dazed, then rinsed my mouth with beer and thought.

Pervert. A pervert, huh.

I knew my kinks were weird. No matter how much I tried to have normal sex, it always felt off. Only when I felt abused did it seem .

I knew it was strange. It had just become natural to me. No one ever called me out on it—no one stuck around long enough to care. I’d never gotten close to anyone.

But working at the campground meant I’d keep running into this actor all summer. That made me wonder if what just happened was a mistake, though it was only for the summer, so maybe it didn’t matter. He might finish filming and leave first.

I spit and lay back on the log. My pants were wet and sticky. With my crotch like this, I couldn’t return to the lodge until everyone was asleep. That night, I didn’t get back until dawn.

*

Work started at dawn. I’d only slept a few hours, but after a week of resting, I wasn’t tired. I wore a loose tank top torn up to the sides, work boots, and a tool belt, and sat on a log eating potato soup and hard bread. Everyone seemed hungover from last night, so there wasn’t much chatter. We finished eating quietly and got to work.

I put on industrial goggles and cut logs to size with a chainsaw. Except for the occasional cigarette break, I worked nonstop. By midday, the heat forced us to stop anyway. The heat intensified from eleven o’clock, and by noon, Big Nose announced lunchtime.

After lunch, we could rest until three. I swam briefly in the lake and took a nap. Up to that point, it felt like a typical day.

The actor from last night showed up at the campground again around four in the afternoon, when the heat had subsided a bit. I had just finished sawing five logs and was chugging water. He wasn’t alone; he came with a few others and headed straight for the lake. I tried to ignore him, but when he showed up at my work area, soaked in his swimsuit, it was hard to pretend he wasn’t there.

The actor lit a cigarette and sat brazenly on a log. His spread-legged posture was blatant. The tight swimsuit made it impossible not to notice the bulge between his legs. I stopped sawing, pushed my goggles up, and glared at him, pulling a cigarette from my back pocket.

<Close your legs and get lost. You’re in the way.>

<I’m just here to watch. No need to be so sharp.>

The actor drawled.

<Or are you pissed because I called you a pervert yesterday?>

I lit the cigarette. The word “pervert” sent a chill down my spine, but I stared at him blankly without a word.

<Mad? I didn’t mean it in a bad way.>

When I didn’t respond, he chuckled to himself and asked.

<When do you finish work?>

<Late.>

<Like, what time?>

<…Six.>

<Perfect. Come to my trailer after work.>

Instead of answering, I flicked my cigarette butt at him. He didn’t flinch, just smiled casually and stood up. I watched his back as he walked away between the logs, then put my goggles back on.

I was exhausted after work, but it’s not like I didn’t want to. Moving my body after so long made me crave sex. The actor wasn’t as likable as Matt, but considering Matt screwed me over, maybe this guy, despite a bad first impression, could turn out decent. Honestly, I didn’t care either way. After Matt cleaned me out, I was in a whatever-happens-happens mood.

I decided to think positively. If I could tolerate his annoying personality, he wasn’t a bad partner. Given his job, he wouldn’t blab about us, his face and body were decent, and his equipment wasn’t bad either. He’d do for the summer. With those calculations in mind, I slipped into the group of workers heading to the filming site.

I was honestly surprised when I reached the set. It was practically a small village, with an impressive setup. I didn’t know what they were filming, but it looked good. Fake cafes, diners, houses, and gardens were dressed up to look real. People bustled around with equipment, and filming was already underway in one area. While the workers watched quietly, I slipped toward the lodging area.

A few large, flashy trailers stood near the lodging. There were six in total, three with lights on. Each had a nameplate. I checked them one by one as I walked: A. Dillon, R. Foster, B. Moore, L. Perlman, J. Ranger, and S. Caster…

I realized I still didn’t know the actor’s name. The lit trailers belonged to Dillon, Ranger, and Caster. I didn’t know which was his, but there was only one way to find out.

I knocked on Dillon’s trailer, the leftmost one. A blonde woman opened the door and stared at me coldly.

<What’s up?>

Her annoyed tone made my ears flush.

<Nothing. Sorry.>

I quickly moved to the trailer labeled Ranger and knocked. The blonde woman stayed at her door, watching me. Luckily, the door opened, and it was the actor I was looking for. He glanced between me and the blonde, quickly figuring out the situation. He flashed a sly grin and waved at her.

He waited until she returned to her trailer before letting me in. By then, I felt like I’d done something foolish, and my mouth tasted bitter.

Closing the door, the actor suddenly said.

He sat on the counter, looking at me. I glanced out the unblinded window before turning to him. He asked.

<You like being dominated, don’t you?>

Instead of answering, I lowered the blinds. He smirked mockingly and asked.

<No need to be shy. How do you like it? I can do some stuff. Whips or candle wax might be too painful for me to handle, but I could piss on your face if you’re into that.>

He was a damn talker. His face was pretty, but that was it. Instead of responding, I sat on the bed and kicked off my boots. Ignoring his chatter, I took off my shirt, hung it aside, and unzipped my pants. Only then did he shut up. He scanned me slowly from head to toe. I sat back on the bed, tapped the sheet, and asked.

<You gonna keep talking, or are you gonna fuck me?>

He had me lie face down and entered roughly. There was no conversation, just low, heavy breathing. He seemed convinced I was a masochist and clumsily tried to control me, gripping my cock to keep me from coming. He finished, then slapped my ass. Each time his soft palm smacked my skin, he rubbed and shook my cock stickily. I probably would’ve come even without the touching, though it might’ve taken longer. Only after I came in the condom did he let me get up.

Afterward, he dropped the mocking act, kissed me gently, and rubbed my back. He seemed to want to talk, but I ignored him. I quickly dressed and left the trailer. The whole thing took barely thirty minutes.

Sex became a regular thing.

After work, I’d go to his trailer for sex. His name was James. He often slapped my ass but never did anything like pissing on my face, as he’d mentioned. Sometimes he’d rub my hard cock with his foot, but rarely. We usually fucked quickly and parted ways. On Sundays, when I was off, we had more time, but I still didn’t stay long. Starting and ending quickly meant no one caught us. Well, we almost got caught once.

That day, both trailers next to James’s had people, so we were extra quiet. Still, soft moans slipped out, and I was tense. Then someone knocked on the trailer door. A shadow appeared at the window. I held my breath, but James, being a jerk, kept thrusting and shouted, <Busy right now, Caster!> The shadow disappeared, but my heart kept pounding. After it was gone, James rubbed my back and whispered.

<You clenched so tight just now, Raymond. Do it again.>

For ten days after, no one disturbed us.

Oddly, the one doing weird stuff in our undisturbed arrangement was James himself. On the third weekend since I arrived, a Saturday, he made a proposal. He’d come to the lake with the crew to swim that afternoon. He signaled, and I hid in the woods to wait.

When James arrived, I leaned against a tree, pulled down my pants, and we had quick sex. Afterward, we sat against a tree trunk and lit a joint. We smoked in silence for a while. My vision blurred, and I closed my eyes. When James spoke, I listened, still dazed with my eyes shut.

<You’re too quiet. Even if we click, just having sex and leaving like this will get boring fast. What do you think?>

I stayed silent, and he continued.

<I’m not saying spill your life story, but can’t we at least talk about sex? It’d make things more fun, right?>

Without opening my eyes, I asked.

<How?>

I was already tired, wondering what crazy idea was brewing in his little head.

<I mean… how about blindfolds?>

That didn’t faze me. I stayed quiet, and he asked.

<Bondage?>

Still with eyes closed, I took a deep drag of the joint. My body relaxed.

<Threesome?>

That made me open my eyes. I narrowed them and stared at him silently. So, he wanted a threesome. He met my gaze, reading me but smiling slyly.

<No good?>

<I’m not into group stuff.>

I passed him the joint.

<Alright, just curious.>

With a playful look, he added.

<Blindfolds are okay, though? And bondage?>

I leaned forward and grabbed both his ankles tightly. He stared at me, wide-eyed, trying to pull free, but no chance. My arm muscles bulged as I gripped him, giving him a smirk.

<If it’s not tied right, I’ll break free.>

Looking flustered, James burst out laughing at that.

That evening, I joined the workers heading to the filming site. It was a good excuse—the crew was throwing a pizza party, and most workers went. I didn’t even enter the set. I’d learned how to detour to James’s trailer while sneaking around. I went with the workers, then slipped into the woods under the pretense of taking a piss, heading straight for his trailer. James was waiting eagerly. I wondered why he was so excited, then saw a blindfold and two pairs of handcuffs on the bed.

I stepped into the trailer but stayed at the door, raising an eyebrow. James grinned sheepishly.

What kind of drama was this? I almost sighed but said nothing. If I spoke, talkative James would start yapping about how I didn’t even know what he was filming or how I wasn’t interested, and I wasn’t in the mood for that nonsense.