Gary in the Tent, a true story...
Those who have read my earlier writing on my sexual awakening at the age of 14 will be familiar with my writing style. I tell the truth, and nothing but the truth about various events in my youth. Events that have lived with me for many years. I decided to put them down for others enjoyment. I hope that this episode give some pleasure to new readers.
After my explosive introduction to oral sex at 14, in the capable hands (and lips) of my younger friend Robin, and later that black guy in his 20's who looked after the local park, things went very quiet on the direct contact front. I still had my memories, and became a regular masturbator, reliving those exquisite events of the summer. I was sad to lose Robin, who I was getting very fond of, even loved a little. It may have been my first real love affair, but it ended too soon.
But masturbation, although great fun (and remember those days when you could come, and fifteen minutes later come again just as pleasurably? -- Oh youth, its wasted on the young!)
Anyway, I drifted through the summer after that. I was getting on OK at school,but the long summer break seemed interminable. With no Robin, and more importantly, no Robin's cock, football and Cub Scouts held little attraction now. My other mates noticed the change in me, and drifted away. I didn't really care that much, so when, at the end of the summer holidays in September, I was offered the chance to go away with the Scouts on a weeks camping, I only agreed because it would get me away from the sidelong glances of my parents, who were scarily close to working out what me and Robin had been getting up to before his abrupt departure.
We all joined a half full coach of other scouts at the bottom of my road, and set off on a 3 hour drive to Norfolk, one of England's least urban counties. Back in those days it was even more isolated, and as we finally pulled into the camp ground in a place called Old Costessy, I looked out of the window gloomily at the vast expanse of grass, and the few large tents already pitched. I wasn't really interested in wood craft or knots any more, so this was going to be a long week.
But Scout camps are designed to physically exhaust you by lights out, with climbing, river swimming and camp-fire sing songs, so by the time I tumbled into my sleeping bag, I had barely registered the other occupants of my tent.
There were two of them. One was an older Scout, about 16, with the beginnings of fuzz on his upper lip and the sullen look of a born bully. I was right of course, as events would prove. The other kid was already asleep, or so I thought, all that was visible above the zipped up bag was a shock of black curly hair. The older kid gave me a contemptuous look as he squeezed between me and the other kid. His sleeping bag was at the far side of the tent, in the best spot. He sneered at me nastily
"Keep your fucking fingers off my stuff, and keep out of my way, and you'll go home in one piece" He grinned without humour, revealing yellow teeth that would make my dentist give up and take up embroidery. I nodded without answering, and he undressed and got into his bag, not before giving the other sleeping bag a kick as he did so. A small squeak came from the black haired occupant, but otherwise there was no response.
Getting into my sleeping bag and zipping it up I gazed disconsolately at the canvas above me, wishing I had said no to this trip.
The following day went much as the first. Showers in the cement shower block across the field, line ups for beans and sausages, cooked by red faced older scouts or scoutmasters. Wash the plates and cutlery in the river before being assigned to various tasks. Building an aerial runway, carving wooden cutlery stands from twigs, feeding the chickens in the adjoining field so that we could collect eggs the following day, and stuff like that. It was mildly interesting, so I began to perk up a bit. I kept well clear of our tent companion, whose name, inevitably, was Butch, and only at the 5pm cook tent roll call, identified the other kid. He was actually a bit older than me when dressed and upright. Probably 15 going on 16, tall and skinny, with a hooked nose and the same shock of unruly hair I had seen peeking over the sleeping bag. His name was Gary, I discovered.
We talked without saying much while we queued, and I found out he had been bullied into coming by his mother, before being comprehensively bullied all the way here by our friend Butch. So we became friends almost by default, mostly in joint dislike of our nasty companion.
That night, Butch excelled himself. Farting, belching, flicking snot balls at us casually violent to any perceived misdemeanour's. The full panoply of antisocial behaviour. I exchanged looks with Gary, but there really wasn't much either of us could do about it. Physically, I have always been quite muscular, but the difference between 14 and 16 can be immense and I knew that I wouldn't last a second in face to face combat with this oversized oaf. Gary was weedier than me, so even between us, I think we would still have come off second best. So we endured, that night and the next, in sullen silence.
The third night, just when I thought I couldn't stand it any longer, salvation came via our Scoutmaster 'Skip'. As we sat in the tent, just before lights out, dreading another evening of our own personal Shrek's foul activities, Skips fat bald head invaded the flapped entrance.
"Butch" he said shortly "Pack up your stuff lad"
Butch looked at him with the puzzled expression of a Neanderthal given a Rubik's cube.
"Err, what's up Skip?" he rumbled
"Chop, chop, Butch. Your parents are here to collect you. Something about a Gas meter?"
Butch reddened, and hung his bovine head. Now, the fact that he always had ample change for sweets and cola made` more sense. Our Butch had departed the family home with a little more than the normal Scout clutter. The coin contents of his parents Gas meter had also travelled to Norfolk.
We tried to hide our grins as he quickly packed up and sidled out of the entrance. When he'd gone, I opened the back flap too, so that the residual odour of sweat and flatulence left with him.
"You two boys be alright tonight without an older Scout to mind you?" Skip said, wheezily
We both nodded furiously. Too right!
The flap descended, and we looked at each other, bursting into laughter at our narrow escape from fart hell....
I moved my sleeping bag a foot further from the entrance, and Gary did the same, so that they laid side by side, about a foot apart, Out came the rhubarb and custard boiled sweets and a luke warm bottle of American Cream Soda (don't laugh, that was considered exotic in those far off days) and we toasted the departure of smelly Butch happily until told to put out the storm lamp and "Get some bloody sleep" by the troop leader in the next tent. Silence descended.
The next couple of days were pretty good fun actually. Gary and I were officially 'mates' now and talked nineteen to the dozen whilst carrying out the tasks set us by troop leaders and Scoutmaster. Even the Ging Gang Gooly sing songs at the end of the day, accompanied by half cooked and singed potatoes, seemed tolerable now.
It was on the last but one day that it happened. I actually feel a little guilty now, looking back, because I think Gary was an entirely innocent recipient of my attentions, and maybe wasn't looking for that sort of attention. But it had been 5 days since I had masturbated, and my balls were just about at bursting point. It started with us discussing the various females we had seen on the beach in Great Yarmouth that day. We had all been bussed to the seaside resort for a jolly day out. Our pocket money had been doled out to us, and we had spent most of it on tacky souvenirs and ice creams, as boys will. But the afternoon was spent on the beach, and even in those more modest times, the sight of semi naked females set the hormones racing.
So as we laid in the tent, the lamp dimmed as low as possible, we chatted comfortably about the girls,and inevitably, I felt the rise of my ever responsive organ. I saw Gary's eyes run over the impossible to ignore tent in my under shorts, and the devil came and took me, as they say. The talk got a little more salacious, and I began to probe him about his own sexual experiences. Which got me absolutely nowhere, because he hadn't had any.
I could see however,that the conversation had excited him, judging by the tent in his own briefs. I decided to chance my arm.
Sliding closer, I asked him if he masturbated. His nervous giggle gave him away. Of course he did.
"Wanna do it together?" I said brazenly
But he shook his head immediately. I don't think it had ever crossed his mind before.
"Come on" I said "I used to do it all the time with my friend at home" Which was a flat out lie, but who was going to contradict me?
He shook his head again, biting his bottom lip.
I was too far committed now, so taking a deep breath, I slid my had over his hip, and closed my fist over his erection. He jumped like a scalded cat, almost dislodging my fingers, but not quite.
I kept my hand on him. His eyes were fixed on it, dilated, fearful. But he didn't push me away. That was all the encouragement I needed. I squeezed gently, and the air rushed out of his lungs as if he had been holding his breath for minutes. His cock was a lot smaller than mine, I filed away that information. Thinner and slightly shorter, a bit like my dick had been a year or so earlier. But he was hard, really hard. I squeezed again, this time moving my fist up and down a little. I heard the breath hiss through his teeth as I began to pump him slowly.
I knew I had won when his head went back and his eyes closed. Now he was flat on his back.
Leaning upon my elbow, I slid the waistband of his briefs over his erection. Now for the tricky bit. I needed him to lift his hips to get them right off. I knew he was still very unsure of what was going to happen to him, but teenage hormones are hard to fight. As I bunched up the blue material in my hand, his hips rose just enough for me to slide the underpants off him. I grinned to myself. This was going OK, I thought.
Having released his dick to get him naked, I now saw that it was indeed thinner than mine, but purple hard, uncut and pulsing slightly, almost laying on his flat belly. It looked good enough to eat. I wasn't sure if I would get him to let me do that, so started by slipping my fingers over it again. Teasing his skin by trailing my fingertips over the stretched skin. He groaned then, and one of his arms went up until he had it crooked over his eyes. His mouth was open and his breathing fast.
I gripped him harder, until his hips jerked slightly. Then I began to stroke him steadily. I saw a drop of pre cum form on the almost hidden tip of his cock and longed to suck it off, but knew I would have to be gentle with him. This was no Robin, with wakened and strong sexual desires. This kid was a virgin in all senses of the word.
But my stroking was having a powerful effect on his libido. He was muttering a little now, although I couldn't make out what he was saying under his breath. My stroking got longer, and I rubbed my fingers over his secretions, making his small cock slippery to touch. My mouth watered with anticipation.
But first I wanted some reciprocal action. My own cock was so hard it was painful, so, slipping off my shorts I released his cock, which made him open his eyes wide, and took his left hand and placed it around my erection. His hand jerked back as if scalded, and I had to repeat the action three times before I could be sure he wouldn't retreat again. Finally he held me. He didn't squeeze or stroke me, but at least his cool hand was holding on.
Slipping my hand back onto his slim cock, I resumed stroking slowly, trying to maximise the pleasure. In the position I was in, I couldn't use my other hand to cup his balls, and really, all I wanted anyway was to suck him, but it was a bit like trying to saddle a young horse, easy does it works every time. So, I worked him as best as I could, watching his face as I did. His arm was still crooked over his eyes, but his mouth was open, breath coming in fast gasps, and he wasn't making any attempt now to either remove my hand from him, or vice versa.
Finally, the temptation grew too strong and I stopped stroking him long enough to whisper softly "You wanna feel something even better?"
His head shook vigorously "NO!", but when I leaned over him and, forefinger and thumb circling the base of his skinny cock, licked the swollen head round the tip, he stopped saying no. In fact he stopped resisting anything. His thighs parted and he let out a sigh of what I took as resignation Sensation must have taken over from reluctance. I had no problem crawling round him until I was between his knees. Obviously, the movement meant I couldn't have his hand on my cock as well, but I really wanted to suck this kid, so I suppressed my own need for the greater goal.
He lay before me, supine and submissive now. His thin cock swayed slightly as it throbbed . I noticed for the first time that he had a small clump of black hair above his cock, much more pubic hair than either Robin or I had. But the effect wasn't to make Gary look older, rather the opposite. He looked what he was, a skinny adolescent.
I leaned forward again, this time slowly engulfing his whole cock in my mouth. This was something I had been unable to do with either Robin or Benjamin. Small size has some advantages then...
I sucked gently, using my circled thumb and first finger to pull up and down on his shaft. His hips began to lift with every down stroke, trying to make me suck deeper. That wasn't even possible, as on every down stroke my nose pushed against his belly and my lips touched at the base of his shaft. Up and down, Suck on the upstroke, lick the swollen head at the top of the cycle, then swoop lower, sucking even harder. He groaned this time, and his hands scrabbled to grip my over-long hair. I felt myself assume a familiar posture. On my knees, with an adolescent cock in my mouth, and two hands pushing my head up and down.
He lasted quite a long time for a virgin. I guess I was sucking him for about 5 minutes, which is a long time when you're young. But finally, the combination of wet, hot suction and my fisting his cock brought the inevitable conclusion. I suppose the fact that I took that moment to squeeze his balls may have helped!
He moaned "Nick, I'm going to..." And I knew exactly what that meant. And so he did. Not copiously like Benjamin, not in half a dozen decent squirts like Robin, but rather in one brief rush of warm liquid. One second I was sucking hot cock, next there was competition in my mouth with a few cc's of thin, warm liquid. He only jerked twice, and I had enough time to register surprise that I wasn't overflowing with cum, as in previous fellatio attempts. I swallowed comfortably, it tasted a little bleach and wheat flavoured as usual, but the lack of volume made it not at all unpleasant. I took my time finishing with him. Only stopping when his hands ceased urging me on and instead began to push me off him. I guess he had become very sensitive by then.
I crawled back onto my sleeping bag beside him and looked curiously at him. He still had that arm across his eyes, but his mouth was now closed. I don't know what I expected, thanks, anger, tears, I don't know. What I got instead was Gary silently rolling away from me and adopting a foetal position. After a few seconds, I heard him crying quietly. I felt like shit.
The next day, when I woke up, he was gone. I found out later that he had asked the Scoutmaster if he could sleep in the overflow hut for the last night. I also know that he never said a word about what I had done. I was relieved in one way, but puzzled in another. I mean, I had sucked the kid off... what was wrong with that?
Now I know that I was assuming lots of things in those days that I have since found out do not always apply. Gary's physical response to my seduction was one thing, his mental response was quite another. If I had been older than him you could have called it sexual assault. And that still troubles me today. I hope he went on to have a happy sex life, I would hate to think my boyish attempts to convert him changed his life...
Anyway, you can be the judge of that. I am writing my next episode in the true life series now. Its called 'Peter on the Couch'. You can be sure that this time, my partner in fellatio is a very willing participant and the owner of the biggest cock I ever sucked !
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