WARNING: This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving human beings. I wish to explain that this story is not true, but that's not entirely true either! Further, it is not intended to promote illegal acts against others, but to demonstrate that people can love each other. The sexual acts described in the story are the results of my experience and imagination. I have not necessarily performed these acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with anyone. If the subject of man/boy or same-gender love between people offends you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read further! No animals were hurt in the writing of this story.
One afternoon a gang of us older Scouts decided to sleep out for the weekend. This was not a Boy Scout event, but we were all friends because of that relationship.
Scott said he had a six-man wall tent we could use and Eddie offered to transport us in his '49 Chevy. Scott had a car, too, so we could all travel with reasonable comfort. Pete offered to get the menu together and he and Danny bought the food.
My cousin Bill and I went along ... just to go along, though we helped pay for the stuff. Chink had two low-rider cots and Squeak brought an extra tarp in case the tent wouldn't hold all of us.
Scott also knew the spot we'd use ... about a mile off the hardtop along a section of dirt road ... it was near the cabin of a family friend; and he checked to see that everything would be all right.
About supper time we headed out. The ride wasn't all that long and soon we were lost in the woods north of our little town. We pulled off into the woods in a small turnaround, and packed off several hundred yards across the dirt road and into the trees.
Within minutes, Scott found the beginnings of a log bridge across a shallow stream and announced that this was where we would pitch the tent and stay the weekend. He promptly sat on a tree stump which was part of our end of the bridge and began directing everyone else as to where to set the tent, dig the fire pit, and lay out our kitchen.
I was helping set up the six-man wall tent and backing out of the front entry, setting the front ridgepole when I noticed that Scott was still sitting on the stump. But now his pants had dropped down around his ankles and his underwear was bunched just above them, and he was jacking off. It was a slow and deliberate massage and his erection was monstrous.
The fistful that was his cock had to be over nine inches long with a prominent crown and even Scott's hand could not fit around it. This had to be one of the largest peckers I had ever seen.
"Like it?" he asked, "Go ahead, you can touch it." And I did ... just a stroke or two. Some of the other guys noticed, too, and a few also fisted it for a while. Scott smiled and sort of leaned back, "So this is what camping with the boys is all about," he moaned. And everybody laughed.
One of the guys called something about eating, and Scott joined the rest of us (pants now hiked up and fastened) as we dove into the food that was prepared. The early evening air was beginning to chill and soon it would be dark; soon enough for playing, but now was the hour for nourishment.
We sat around the campfire long enough to get cramped asses, tell some tall tales, and yawn enough hints that it was bedtime. Finally Eddie announced that he was ready for bed and the procession followed.
Pete was in the back corner of the tent, his sleeping bag crossways along the back wall. Eddie was next to him, their heads along the sidewall. Chink was next and then Squeak. Danny took one of the low rider cots and set it over their feet along the other sidewall; his head was facing toward the opening at the front. And I lay across the front of the tent with my chest and head partially under the end of Danny's cot (we were almost face-to-face. Bill and Scott slept on the tarp thrown on the ground across the entrance and under the front fly.
Soon there were sounds of snoring and heavy breathing from several corners of the tent.
I slipped up in my sleeping bag into a near seated position, my legs under the end of the cot and now being able to twist slightly and reach into Danny's sleeping bag to play with his cock. He wasn't hung like Scott but his eight inch spear was the nicest handful I'd ever played with. We'd spent many a night jerking each other off or taking turns at the "back door."
Danny leaned into my face and whispered, "Want to try something new?"
"What?" I hissed back.
"You suck me ... I'll suck you, too."
"O.K." I was bold, "but you do me first. And no cumming in my mouth when I do you."
I leaned back against the side of the tent. Danny rolled over and reached his hand between my legs, pressing his palm face up under my ass and taking my five inch pecker into his mouth. It was wet and warm, and instantly I knew it belonged there.
He worked me slowly and occasionally licked the underside of my cock. He sucked the head and he drew the entire shaft into his mouth; and I though I'd died and gone to heaven. It felt so warm and right and perfectly glorious ... I swear I saw stars.
When he came up for air (and it was good that he did because I was about ready to blow), he whispered, "My turn." He turned over and slid up on the cot just a bit to make it easier for me to reach him.
I slid around and leaned over; taking his cue I slipped my hand under his ass and licked the tip of his meat. It was soft and hard at the same time. It was warm and spongy and fit perfectly in my mouth; and I knew this would not be the last time I sucked a cock.
I rolled the glans in my mouth, feeling its textures on my tongue and with my guarded teeth. I tried to take a little more into my mouth and half-gagged, backed off and then quickly moved over to take more. The veins on his shaft were so pronounced (they always looked so beautiful and "muscular") and now they even felt strong and I could feel his blood surging through them.
I'd press forward, taking a little more into my mouth and throat. I'd choke but press for more. I loved the feel, the textures, the smells, the slippery sweet and slightly salty tang. And I loved the feel of his pubic hairs on my lips as I felt the knob of his glans at the back of my throat.
Danny tapped me on the back of my head, "I'm about to cum," he announced. I lifted off and continued stroking him. And he fired one, two, three, four, five shots that spurted up and onto his belly and chest ...one splattering on my cheek ... and then he throbbed several more dribbles into his hair before exhaling. He whispered, "Man that was good."
Then after wiping himself off, Danny rolled over and began sucking on me again. Just a few minutes and I was ready to blow. I tapped his forehead. He backed off maybe two or three inches and continued jerking me. And I blew my load ... several shots that made it clear to my shoulder and down my chest. Danny had some dripping from his chin as well.
I cleaned off ... he kissed my softening pecker good-night, and we went to sleep.
We woke up mid-morning and Pete suggested we all go for a morning swim before breakfast. But nobody had brought suits.
"So what," he said, "it's just us guys; besides it will help us air out."
And we all agreed. Trouble was, the part of the creek that was deep enough to swim was down by the cars, across the road, maybe 300 yards away from the tent. So we stripped and jostled our way to the swimming hole.
The stream was a lot colder than the warm morning air, but it felt great swirling around my balls (I assume everyone else felt good, too). We played, swam, dunked each other, did a little grab ass, and generally washed away more than an hour. But finally everyone was chilled and hungry and wanted to dry off, so we headed back to the camp.
Just as we got to the road, a bright yellow convertible came into view. So we did what every teenaged boy should do. We quickly lined along the road and stood at attention and saluted the three lovely ladies who slowed down for a better look. They screamed and whistled, and as they passed we ran like hell to the tent, laughing and giggling all the way.
After brunch we just lulled around. A couple of the guys began working on the bridge and some of us took turns shooting mark with Eddie's pistol which he'd brought along. As always with this bunch, there were lots of boisterous stories, some arguments about nothing in particular, and simply barrels of bull. In plain words, we had a lot of fun together.
Scott took up residence on his stump again and beat off ... with some assistance from the others. I had a hand in it, too. When he finally came, he just stood up and shot his load on the ground. "There," he panted, "that'll help some trees to grow."
We had supper late ... it was getting dark ... and hit the sack early (like midnight). If anyone else was beating off, I couldn't tell. But it wasn't long before Danny was leaning over my stiffy and sucking away.
He'd lick and then suckle on the head, running the tip of his tongue under the rim of my glans and stimulating the circumcision scar. Then he'd suck the whole thing into his mouth and sort of chew. The sensations were almost too much. Too quickly he brought me to climax as I tapped his forehead and he backed off just before I shot.
Then it was my turn.
I crawled up under the end of the cot and leaned over Danny's middle. His beautiful boner stood proud and I kissed the tip. I licked the head and sucked it into my mouth. It was soft and warm and smooth and altogether fitting. It belonged there. And I rolled it around with my tongue. I gummed it and sucked it gently and sensed every tiny spot on it.
I drilled my tongue tip into his piss slit and sucked a little of the shaft into my hungry mouth. Then I slowly pressed forward until that tip was lodged in my gullet and I thought I would choke. And I sucked that pole and pressed its sides with my tongue. I stroked it with my tongue, as best I could swirl it in my full mouth. And I backed off just as slowly, vacuuming it as it slipped past my lips.
This stiffened prod of Danny's belonged in my mouth. I wanted it there forever. But all too quickly, he whispered, "Gonna blow," and I backed off just as he came. His cream filled the little hollow below his navel and trickled into his pubic hair. A few drops hung from the end of my nose. The smell was overwhelming ... warm and sensuous, salty and creamy. I wanted to taste it but feared repulsion.
I helped Danny clean off and kissed his soft pecker goodnight.
In the morning we packed up our gear and headed out. It would be a whole week before Danny and I got together again at the "shed" and played the skinflute again.
It would not be the last.