Let’s Be A Gay Campground

I’m the Mrs Voorhees-style caftan.

We're the condom wrappers that you will recycle.

I am the untouched ambrosia salad. I am carelessly sitting in direct sunlight. The recipe from which I am derived was created by the host’s grandmother. He has bastardized the entire enterprise.

I'm the booze. You can't have a gay event without booze. It's one of the 10 Gay Commandments.

I'm all the lumberjack shirts.

I’m all the poppers

Fisting Fridays!!!

I'm the scary horror story told at the fire place at night that ends with the trick cleaning his cum-covered dick with the living room curtains.

I am the craft director. Every god damned class ends in tears. I really must learn not to be so harsh with these sensitive kids and their pipe cleaner, glued on macaroni, spray painted gold, duct taped piles of crap. My critiques appear to be causing long term emotional damage.

I'm the 7:00 game of charades.

Not to be confused with the 8:00 game of movie trivia.

Both include the strange "keys in the bowl" ritual, however.

I’m strip monopoly! And I’m the shoe.

i'm the hired escort

I’m the reenactment of when Jason murdered the guy in the wheelchair and fell down the stairs.

I'm the photo of Judy Garland that the camp founder placed in the lobby!

I'm the cutesy names given to to the RV's and trailers...

"stop by THE TOTALLY HITCHED for Sangria at 3:00"

I'm the wieners.

I’m the pouty friend who’s ready to go home after one night but can’t because we all rode together. I’ll ruin everyone’s weekend if it’s the last thing I do.

I'm the sticky cum coating the floor of the campground bathhouse.

I’m the kind guest trying desperately to avoid making eye contact with the body part of the individual talking to me. Just because you CAN be naked doesn’t mean you SHOULD be naked, guy.

check out time of the cabins is noon!

R18 I'm the old bitter FagHag responsible for cleaning the sticky floor in the bathhouse. Twenty years ago, on a lark, I started working here with my gay best friend. Many years ago he moved to Vermont with his rich investment banked husband and their 2 foreign born children. I'm still here. Fuck him!

We're the trees in the surrounding woods. We've seen ... everything.

I'm the men on the land which is literal violence to Mother Nature!

R22 - yeah, we've seen some shit. Remember when the toilets were backed up and someone left the unrefrigerated MAYONNAISE potato salad out all day at the potluck?

It made the toilet scene in Bridesmaids look like afternoon tea at The Plaza.

Forest creatures STILL won't come within 50 feet of my tree roots. I've been through 80 years of winter ice, massive snowfalls, torrential downpours in Summer. But nothing comes close to those 3 hours of bears, leather daddies, twinks, and birkenstock lesbians dropping trou and polluting all around my roots.

Weeping willows have nothing to cry about, believe me.

I'm the straight married guy in the minivan who pretends to be lost while trying to get back to his family at KOA.

I'm the disaster when they co-booked Leatherman Weekend and Radical Faeries Werkend by mistake.

I'm the gratuitous dick flash directed at Rick Schroeder when he shows up to scream "gays stole the election."

Will there be corrective rape, R27?

And after Cosby got out of jail I am not fucking kidding.

I’m the horny cafeteria worker with the good weed. While being disappointing to my parents. I’m high all the time and getting a blowjob three times a day. Life feels pretty good right now.

We're the attendees' pressed-linen tents in alternating bright orange, pink and puce!

I don't think some of you have been to or understand a gay campground. These places exist.

R9 and R30 are clearly lost.

I'm the butch lesbian camp-host riding around in a golf cart, checking for fees paid and cars parked in the right spots.

R33 - that was too on the money. But I will say this - they're good at their jobs - unquestionably.

R24/ Woody Tree, that made me laugh so damn hard. Thank you. For real.

I'm the raccoon and I'm here for all the trash.

R34, blessed are the butch lesbian camp-hosts. They tell people now so that they don't have to tell them then!

We're the FTMs who aren't allowed on the campground in the first place.

I'm the Snickers wrappers the FAT WHORES are hiding inside other trash. It's so satisfying, but also so humiliating.

I hope the peanuts don't come back to haunt me when I bottom tonight.

R38 No worries, I'll take the peanuts.

I am the Drag queen who hosts Drag Queen Lincoln Logs. At night I am also the host of the most manly bear contest as a man in chaps and a harness. During the afternoon I clean the pool and locker rooms.

Are there any movies set in gay campgrounds? Cause there should be.

I'm the tall effeminate events director who insists that everything be done my way or I will make your fucking life miserable. I was in A Chorus Line Goddammit!

I'm the ten bears sharing a tiny tent. You can't tell us apart because we have the same hairstyle, the same beard style, the same clothing, and (mostly) the same clothing. We are here celebrating our sexuality and our individuality.

R43 - that's so true - I just commented about this the other day. I walked past a gaggle of bears two days ago. Similar white beards, body size, tank tops - you name it.

I’;m the cock sucking

I'm a large stone by the lake where guys go skinny dipping. There are lots of used condoms beside me and I'm stained with blood, piss, shit and cum!

I’m the endless, goddamned, white twinkle lights adorning every last available square inch of every last tree, bush, and fern. I help give rise to the term “glamping.”

I'm the bears sharing a potluck that involves ten different variations of pasta salad and Costco muffins.

I am the small number of gays of color. One per group allowed.

I am the local pharmacy. I’ve run out of viagra and prep.

I'm pubic lice. I'm here every weekend!

I'm the 23 bags of provisions brought by the 4 bears. Chips (six bags of various flavors), nachos, salsa, cheese dip, potato salad, coleslaw, macaroni salad, potato wedges, sausages (snicker - of course we're bring sausages - brats, hot dogs, italian sausages, you name it!), burgers, buns, fried chicken, pie, cake, cookies, pancake mix, eggs, bread, hash browns - I hope it's enough for the overnight. Oh, and 10 cases of beer.

Down the road, I'm the 2 bags of provisions brought by the twinks. Vodka, gin, hard seltzer, club soda, tequila, diet soda, electrolyte mix - I hope it's enough for the overnight. Food? FUUUCK!! We have to go to the store and buy lemons and limes! Thanks for the reminder!

I’m the persistent body odor of the sleuth of bears.

I'm the vain dude who strings up his solar shower from a tree branch and puts on a show.

I’m me, turning into Melania Trump. Looking for an older guy with the biggest nicest RV so I don’t have to sleep in a tent.

R55 - the prospect of sleeping in a tent would change my standards too. Particularly if there's a decent bathroom and shower in the RV.

I have to wonder how many guys with these gorgeous RVs buy these just for that reason. Hey - as long as both parties get something out of it, who cares?

[quote]I hope the peanuts don't come back to haunt me when I bottom tonight.

Then don't eat corn.

I'm the smell near a trailer with a black tank that needs to be emptied. 🤢

I’m the rain.

I'm Judy, the hard-nosed campground check-in assistant. The reservation clearly said six people and there are ten of you. Oh, and your card was declined.

Well I just got back from one so these are real. I'm the retired 84 year old barber with a pole outside his trailer and a sign offering free manscapes. I'm the guy who has zero social skills and can't get laid being around 3,000 gay men many scantily clad or naked all who can host - so I'm on Scruff saying I'm discrete and my profile pic has no face. I'm the 6 foot four 20 something on the spectrum with a hot body whore who only lets guys over 60 touch him. I'm the recreation hall feeling violated and raped night after night since they turned by exterior rear walls into a play area.

I'm an old VHS Porn Tape from the 1980s gathering dust because everyone is downloading free porn on their phones.

Damn technology!

I'm the old worn out rainbow flag flying over the admin office which has been there since the campground opened.

I have more. I'm the forever happily married,/together pointing out, discussing and interviewing potential thirds at the bonfire. One or both of them has been drinking so they've forgotten their "rules" and "boundaries." They are so tiresome and pda lovey dovey that no one wants the job.

I'm the rain - I ruin everything, even the next day. Weirdly, nobody ever expects me to show up.

I'm the pool where no one has ever swam a single lap. Everyday though there is at least one couple where one is trying to teach the other to swim. The one teaching is always over 60, white and overweight to obese. The pupil is usually in his 20s, hot as fuck, wearing a speedo or thong, is a person of color originally from a developing nation and is hanging on for his fear life to several noodles. The look in his eyes say somebody please rescue me.

I'm the very wide assortment of wines. Each camper was supposed to bring 4 bottles. The guy who brought the cheapest bottles is guzzling the most expensive bottles. (There may be some hidden expensive wine because of this.)

Next year, Mike (who also organized the Palm Springs weekend) will definitely email all campers, informing everybody of a floor amount (in dollars) for how much each bottle should cost.

"We're the trees in the surrounding woods."

And so tall and healthy, due to being fertilized with piss, shart and cum for decades.

I'm the smores - nobody likes me, but I've elbowed my way in front of all other acceptable desserts so that any camping experience is lacking without me.

I taste like burnt marshmellow, runny chocolate and hard graham crackers - appropriately enough.

I'm the only dessert item in the world where it is perfectly acceptable to put a stick from the forest floor into me without any worries.

If anyone else put a tree stick into a cake, pie or anything else, no one would fucking touch me. But I'm special!

No - nobody ever serves me as a dessert anywhere else ever, why do you ask?

I'm the bitter old queen who rather than try to enjoy my life as it is now, must live in the past and constantly remind everyone how many men I fucked when I was hot. I can be found sitting in front of my camper in a Sarong sipping a Bloody Mary and making catty comments to any man I deem unattractive, "I would have [italic]never[/italic] fucked him."

I'm the clothing optional Square Dance in the main lodge! I'm almost too cringe-worthy to mention!

I'm the courtesy towel that everyone is required to carry and sit on! There will be NO cummy snail trails left on the chairs in the Dining Lodge!

I'm snakes, wasps, and ticks, bitches.

I'm the confused Uber driver speeding away from the campsite after dropping off my drunk passengers who groped and harassed me the entire ride up the mountain.

I'm the emaciated meth whore in the corner with the prolapsed asshole after 12 guys fucked me in exchange for meth last night. I'm looking for a ride back to the trailer park now that the daddy who brought me here dumped me for a younger "boy."

Are gay campgrounds really a thing?

R52, impressive list but you forgot the special baggies the bears brought for the twinks...hence the electrolytes.

Yes we have 4 of them just in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

I'm the Official camp Bear Spray! Made from 100% quality bear urine! I collected it myself!!!! (wink)

I'm the roofies in the pocket of a troll waiting to be used on an unsuspecting hottie!

I am the Jewish Camp Ground that shares the facilities.....Oy!

Do you ever use Aquaphor in your asshole? I bought baby formula Aquaphor for it.

I'm the ubiquitous sex pig...anytime...anywhere...anybody. The dirtier, the better. Audience? Sure.

I'm the. PCBs climbing up your anus whenever you swim.

I'm the cock-blocking troll staring at everyone trying to get busy and making everyone uncomfortable.

I'm the cigarette butts one of you tried to bury in the sand. The opossum are now nicotine junkies. Thanks, Fucko!

I'm the Republican Faux Christians picketing homosexuality outside the front gate of the Campground.

I'm all the assholes and crotches that reek since people, including gays, aren't as clean when they're camping as opposed to when they're at home. They have no idea of the stench until they see how quickly I am repulsed and end the encounter.

Sneaking out and sucking cock

I'm David Archuleta's virgin hole.

I'm the bitching and moaning and pissy attitudes that accompany gay men wherever they go.

I'm the car seat in the back of the station wagon of the closeted married queen who has to leave the campground by 10 pm to get home to wifey.

I reek (as does everything in this vehicle) of piss, shit, poppers and cum because this cheap ass queen doesn't wanna spring for a cabin and always just gets fucked in his car.

This thread is too much! I'm not sure if I want to go to a gay campground as I have dreamed or am recoiling with horror. I'm conflicted.

I am the Handjob given in the shower room to a 21 yr old when I was 16.

I'm the sweet dog who was brought along (snuck in). I have no idea where my water bowl is. i'm dying of thirst. and no one notices.

I'm the camp employee who got fired after it was discovered I was going around at night taking a dump by the doors to people's tents and trailers. I was fired several years ago for doing the same thing at another gay campground.

I’m the couple that is shot or the family that roasted on the hike.

R97 ????

I'm the pink flamingo pool floaty toy next to the pool. I'm discolored from years of cum shot all over me. I'm never used in the pool and no one ever cleans me.

I'm the giant rainbow unicorn floaty in the pool who is about to force the flamingo floaty into retirement with the other eldergays.

I'm the Airstream trailer of the couple who are into antique cars. They are the only gay couple in their car club, but no one cares because all they do in the club is talk cars, cars, cars.

I will be set up in a prime spot, along with pink flamingo statues, a gazing ball, and 1950s patio furniture under an awning. My owners will not move from their chairs all weekend.