It had started as a walk in the park. Daryl had gone around half the lake, when he noticed a dirt path he hadn’t noticed before, and feeling like some exploration might be fun, he took it. The path meandered deep into a thicket of trees, and soon he could neither see, nor hear the families picnicking and playing less that 200 yards away, and then he found the clearing.

The men were lounging on some found, inflatable furniture, and the grass was littered with various other pieces of furniture, some tables, mattresses, all of it junk. They beckoned him over, and he was unable to resist. He didn’t know why, but before long he was seated next to the Mayor, sucking his cock, feeling his beard grow longer, his clothing tattered and filthy. The other derelicts, laughing and drunk, surrounded them and soaked the newcomer with their piss. Before too long, he was just another filthy derelict–the hobo camp had claimed another victim. 

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