Timmy and the Eagle Scouts

by Stephen Scott

Copyright, 2007 by Stephen Scott. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to Nifty Archives, to archive and display this work. All other uses are expressly forbidden unless explicit arrangement has been made with the author. This work may not be reproduced, posted, stored electronically, or archived, except for personal, non-public use, without the express written permission of the author.

I have a number of stories posted in the Nifty Archive

Adult Youth--Fourth of July Fireworks, The Pool Cleaner's New Gig, The Chicken Run (3 parts), The Boy on the Table and High Tide

Authoritarian--Number Twelve, His Private Stockade, Hustling a Hustler, All I Want for Christmas and Bicycle Butt

Beginnings--The Boy in the Alley, Playground Games, In Camera and Itching

Encounters--The Bellhop and the Movie Star and Straight Boy Cody for Cash

Incest--Stress Relief and Brother's Bad Report Card

Science Fiction or Fantasy--Lije Bailey's Perfect Love (Parts 1 and 2)

Celebrity--Mr. Smallweed and the Crossing-Sweeper

Young Friends--After the Fireworks and To Johnny L. with Love

If you enjoy this story or any of my other stories, please drop me a line at Joe_Gillis_2000@yahoo.com (A No-Prize if you recognize that name!)

And if you'd like to keep up with my stories as I post them, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NiftyStoriesAlert/

You can also read some true encounters on my blog: http://www.livejournal.com/users/joegillis96/

Also some remembrances of boys I loved when I was young on my personal site: http://ncplaywright.mysite.com

(Look under "Biography")

Timmy and the Eagle Scouts

by Stephen Scott

It was a glorious, cool day in early summer. Timmy lay with his back to the big shade tree, his bare feet cooling in the stream, and looked as bored as he felt.

The tree was comfortable, the water clear and soothing, the grass beneath him soft and buoyant.

And that was the trouble.

The tree would always provide shade and a sturdy support. The creek would always be there for soaking tired feet. And the grass would always grow exactly as it was growing now.

Nothing ever changed.

Timmy was bored. So bored he could scream from it, if screaming would do any good. Which it wouldn't.

At 15, he was sick of everything. Sick of his farm-boy's life, sick of the school that taught him nothing of any real value, sick of the summer vacation that only meant more work at home. Sick of his brute of a father. Sick of cows, sick of pigs, sick of corn, sick of hay. Sick, sick, sick!

In seven months he would be 16. And when that day dawned, he was walking away from this and never looking back.

The boy groaned, and turned over onto his side, tugging at a stubborn blade of grass.

Because there was something else. Something that haunted his waking hours and tortured his dreams. Something that consumed him, day and night--especially night.

Something that gnawed at him for release but which he kept denying, because to do anything about it in this backwoods swamp of hicks and farm-bred bigots and fools would be courting disaster.

He wanted cock.

Well, no, that wasn't it, exactly. He did want cock. He wanted it in his hand. He wanted it in his mouth. He wanted it in his ass. But what he wanted, really, was...


Other boys. Cute, hard, lick-smacking, butt-clenching, ass-reaming hotties to hold and kiss and stroke and surrender to. Men, young like himself, or even older. Men and boys who knew what they liked and weren't ashamed to admit it--and to go out and get it.

His dick stirred in his coveralls and began to stiffen as he contemplated the glories of the school locker-room and showers. All those slender, smooth, tantalizing bodies in their various states of undress--smooth and round where you wanted smoothness and curves, hard and sculpted where you liked strong muscles to be. And tufted with thick hair where it counted most.

He thought about the boys he knew, the ones he'd had crushes on since he first started feeling tingly and sweaty when he looked at them. Five years now, he thought sourly. Five fucking years of darting quick glances at guys in the hallways, in classes, on the gymnasium floor and--especially--in that humid, steamy locker-room with its distinctive, mingled odor of mildew, bleach, industrial cleaner, sweat and... Musk? Hormones? Teenaged bravado and sexual terror? Simple pubic sweat? Whatever it was, it intoxicated him, and when he conjured it, away from school, and could almost smell it, was always enough to give him an instant, aching woody.

He sighed and asked the eternal question.


When am I gonna see someone's cock other than mine?

When am I gonna hold a naked guy and feel his hot prick against my skin, his mouth on my mouth, his hands on my shoulders and arms and back and butt?

When do I get to touch a dick? Hold it, caress it, suck it? Feel it sliding into my asshole, pushing up, thrusting deep and hard--fucking my little virgin hole and spewing a load of hot pearl jam inside me?

When am I gonna get laid?

Timmy knew that other boys fucked around. Held circle-jerks, experimented a little with each other. But he never trusted any other guy enough to suggest it. What if they got disgusted? Hit him? Told everybody at school? He couldn't chance it. And his chores at home kept him from ever having time to engage in extra-curricular activities, socialize with other boys, or even make close friends.

Then there was Daddy.

The only things his widowed father seemed to know were work, and alcohol.

When he was drunk, he was a terror. When he sober he was worse.

He didn't beat Timmy, at least, but he might as well have, as far as his son was concerned. He was verbally abusive, mean-spirited, and just plain assholish. There was certainly no love lost between the two.

The farmboy sighed again, and rolled back over onto his back. He put his hands behind his head, brushed his thick brown locks off his forehead and off his shoulders, where it lay in luxurious locks, and gazed up into the azure blue sky, wishing something would happen.

As though in answer, Timmy heard a sound. His ears perked up and distinguished the familiar sound of bodies moving through high grass. There was definitely someone coming through the field nearby.

Timmy was as silent as he could be. Eventually, some two hundred feet away, in the field near the stream, two figures strolled into view.

The boy's heart leapt at the sight: two cute young guys in Scouting uniforms. They were about 17 or 18, tantalizingly slim and lithe in their skimpy shorts. One was blond, the other brunet. Timmy had never been in Scouting, but he thought he recognized the sashes and badges as belonging to Eagle Scouts.

The blond was the taller of the two. He was willowy but taut, his strong thighs filling out his khaki shorts. The brunet, shorter but slightly stockier in build, had shapely chest and a butt that Timmy found hard not to look at: round and bubble-like, high and pert.

As the farmboy watched, his mouth going dry, the Eagle Scouts came to a stop in the high foliage. They looked around, craning their heads for a moment and then, as Timmy's heart seemed to stop beating, the two Scouts came together in a passionate embrace, their lips locking and their arms wrapping around each other.

Timmy gasped.

For a moment the world held steady. The Eagle Scouts stiffened. Timmy's face flushed and his pulse ran high.

They'd heard him.

The world resumed.

The boys broke apart, staring around them this way and that, their faces panicked.

Timmy rolled over onto his belly and crawled toward the fields on the other side of the stream. If he could just get to the woods on the easternmost edge, he'd be hidden from view. Then he could watch the boys in safety, if they stuck around.

As Timmy crawled on his belly he heard the dry grass behind him rustling violently, and knew he'd been discovered. Without looking around, he jumped to his feet and began running.

While the farmboy had the advantage of intimate knowledge of his physical surroundings, his pursuers had an edge: there were two of them, and they split up, one going left, the other right.

They converged just ahead of him.

Timmy skidded to a stop, his bare feet scraping the ground, and spun around. But by the time he was turned, strong hands had grabbed him.

One set of fingers held him by the straps of his coveralls, which promptly tore off their buttons and slid down his back. The second set was lower, on the ground, and gripped his legs, hurling him to the ground and knocking his breath out of him.

The Eagle Scouts rolled the farmboy onto his back. Timmy looked up to see the brunet sitting on his belly, holding down his arms. The blond stood by, his hands on his hips, staring down angrily.

"What were you doing, boy?" he demanded. "Spying? Huh?"

"N--no!" Timmy blurted, catching his breath.

"Yes, you were!" the brunet fumed. He raised a fist. "Why were you spyin' on us, goddamnit? Answer me of I'll pound your fuckin' face in!"

"Better answer, boy," the blond sneered. "He's got a nasty temper... and a mean right hook."

"But I wasn't! I wasn't spyin' on you! I just--"

"Just what?" the brunet demanded.

"I couldn't help seein' you! I wasn't tryin' to--I just saw! Honest!"

"Saw what?" the blond said, squatting down by Timmy. "Huh? What did you see--or think you saw?"

"Yeah," the brunet added. "You thought you saw somethin', right?"


"Hit him, Barry. Go ahead."

"No!" Timmy pled. "I saw--I mean, I thought... thought you were... were kissin'!"

"Hear that, Barry?" the blond laughed. "Farmboy here thinks we're a couple of fags." He reached out and twisted Timmy's left nipple, hard. The boy yelped in pain... but his cock stirred in his coveralls.

"Kinda makes you mad, doesn't it, Marky?" the brunet observed.

"Pisses me off, yeah," the blond agreed.

"Then whattaya think we should do with the little fuck? I mean, we don't want him runnin' around tellin' stories, do we?"

"Aw, hell, Barry," his friend said in disgust. "We're never comin' back to this shit-hole again. Who cares what he says?"

But the brunet was intent on Timmy's nipple. He fingered it, felt it become hard under his touch... and was definitely aware of his young captive's subsequent erection pressing against his butt. He grinned down at Timmy.

"He sure likes me playin' with his tit, though." He looked up at his companion. "Maybe he's the fag." Staring back at Timmy he wet his lips. "That it, farmboy? You a little cocksucker?"

Timmy's face turned red and his throat closed, forbidding any words from escaping. He was sweating profusely under the arms, desperately aware of his hard-on and the way it reacted to the firm fingers of the Eagle Scout as they manipulated his exposed (and now rigid) nipple. He swallowed, and found his voice.

"N--no," he murmured. "I'm not a fag."

His blush deepened. The brunet noticed, and his grin grew wider.

"Farmboy's so turned on his dick's pokin' against my ass, Marky," he purred, continuing to play with the boy's sensitive nipple. He held the hard nub between thumb and forefinger and rubbed it insistently.

"He wants to fuck you, Barry," the blond laughed. "Better be careful how you sit on him."

"No!" Timmy protested. "No, I--I don't!"

The brunet looked up at his friend again, laughing now too.

"See? He doesn't wanna fuck me." He smiled down at Timmy. "That must mean he wants us to fuck him."

"I don't!"

The brunet leaned down, his face a few inches from Timmy's.

"Then why you getting' so hard, farmboy? Huh?"

Timmy fought hard against his instinct--which was to push his lips on the brunet's and kiss him, hard.

"I--I don't know, man! Hell--you're playin' with my tit! What do you think's gonna happen, you play with a guy's nipples like that?"



"What're we gonna do with him?"

"I don't know. Let me think." He scooted his butt back slightly, knowing the movement would press the farmboy's boner downward. Timmy winced slightly, but his cock held firm. It pressed between the brunet's shorts-covered buttcheeks, and the Scout noted with satisfaction that Timmy's eyes now glistened with desire.

"He's pretty cute, isn't he?" the Scout observed idly.

"Very cute," his blond friend agreed.

The brunet looked into Timmy's eyes.

"Where should we go, huh, boy? Bet you know a good spot. Someplace we can fuck you silly. That's what you want, right? Somewhere no one goes." The Scout moved his hips around, poking his butt against Timmy's erection. "Come on," he said sweetly. "You know you want it, baby."

Timmy could no longer help himself. This was what he'd been dreaming about. He knew what he'd seen, and now that the brunet was toying with him, inflaming his sexual passion, he thought he could trust them--at least as far as not hurting him. He hoped what they had in mind was less violent and more arousing, and he was pretty sure at least that the Eagle Scout on his belly was as excited as he was.

He nodded his head, his eyes glazed.

"Barn," he murmured breathlessly. "Abandoned. Close by."

"Hey, Mark," the brunet called his companion. "Gimme your belt."

"Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah. Sure."

The blond removed his belt and handed it to his friend, who grabbed Timmy's hands and swiftly wrapped the taut fabric around the farmboy's wrist. It was a good Scout knot--no give, and no way to get out of it without assistance.

The brunet got up off his chest, and Timmy saw the alluring way the Scout's shorts tented.

"Okay, farmboy. Show us. And if you try any tricks..."

"I won't," Timmy murmured, rising and walking in front of his captors.

He was acutely aware of two things: that the Scouts were behind him, watching his half-naked body and that, with the straps broken, his coveralls were falling down in back, revealing the cleft of his ripe, firm buttocks.

His cock got harder.

He kept to the fields, and within a few minutes was pointing with his bound hands at an old, deserted barn.

The farm had failed some time ago, and the owners had tried to collect on their insurance by setting fire to their house. It burned down, they got nailed for fraud, and the barn sat empty. With the feed and livestock removed, it had been left unlocked, Timmy had spent some time there on his own, exploring the barn and climbing up to the loft. Sometimes he'd open the big upper doors and lie in the hay, staring out at the evening sky and dreaming of the day he would leave this place for good.

"You sure it's safe?" the blond asked, prodding Timmy forward none too gently.

"No one ever comes around here."

"But you do, right?"

"Well, I--"

"Climb up in the loft and jack off, don't you, farmboy?" the brunet sneered. "Jack off thinkin' about nice big, juicy dicks."

Timmy's face burned. He'd done that, too!

He led the Scouts to the barn and told them if they pulled at the door a little, it would open. He watched as the blond and his brunet companion struggled a bit with the door before it slowly creaked open, its rusted hinges protesting. The Scouts looked around, then pushed Timmy inside and closed the barn door behind them.

They were plunged into darkness.

"Fuck!" the blond said. "I can't see a thing."

"Go up and open the doors in the loft," Timmy said softly.

"I'll do it," the brunet said. "Show me where the ladder is, farmboy."

Timmy led his captor to the base of the ladder. He knew this place blindfolded.

The brunet climbed up, slowly, nervous of the darkness. Eventually, though, he reached the top. In another minute he'd found the upper doors and hauled them open. They made as much rusty, screeching noise as the ones down below, but when they were fully parted, sunlight flooded the floor of the barn.

"That's better," the blond said. He turned to Timmy. "I'm gonna untie your hands and you're gonna climb. Got it? And I'll be right behind you, so don't try anything or I swear I'll pull you off the fuckin' ladder and you can break your damn neck for all I care."

Timmy nodded, his throat contracted and dry.

It was beginning.

The blond undid the knot. Timmy rubbed his wrists a bit, then started up the ladder.

Even with his coveralls falling down in back and partly interfering with the movement of his thighs, he went up the ladder swiftly, used to the process. When he rose to the loft he found the brunet gazing with interest at a set of pulleys hanging from the ceiling, their chains rattling slightly in the cool breeze that wafted in through the open doors.

After a moment his friend joined him, puffing a bit from the unaccustomed climb. They looked at each other, then at Timmy, who blushed at the undisguised sexual interest with which the Scouts regarded him.

The blond found a nice big hay-bale, and sat on it.

"C'mere, farmboy."

Timmy went toward him, his breath growing short and his heart beating wildly.

"Your Daddy discipline you, boy?" the Scout asked.

Timmy nodded.

"Bet he takes you out to the woodshed, hauls your britches down, and beats your bare butt red, doesn't he?"

Again, the boy nodded.

"Bet you like it, too. Don't you?"

Timmy blushed deeply.

It was a secret he'd never let on to anyone before.

His father didn't spank him often, but when he was sober and mean from lack of drink, he'd sometimes find a reason to turn his son over his knee and paddle his ass. Like all kids, Timmy hated being spanked like that. But...

But the last time it had happened, when he was about 13, the whole thing had excited him in a way he had never experienced before. His Daddy hadn't whipped his butt since he was a little kid--before he'd started thinking about sex, and about liking other boys.

Timmy hadn't been naked in front of his Daddy in a long time--not since before he'd grown hair around his penis. And when his father had pushed him down over his knee and hauled his coveralls down, baring his adolescent butt, Timmy had been horrified to realize he was springing a woody!

His Daddy hadn't noticed. He'd been too intent on cussing the boy out and turning his snowy-white bottom an angry red. And when he was finished, he'd pushed Timmy off his lap disgustedly and left, yelling his threats and invective over his shoulder, long before he could notice the boy's erection.

Timmy had beaten off many times since, thinking about it.

He guessed it was just the attention to his ass by another male, even his own father, whom he basically loathed and who was definitely uninterested in giving Timmy any pleasure. The blows had hurt, and his butt had been sore for hours, but it had really turned his crank!

Now he stared at the hunky blond Eagle Scout who sat gesturing at his lap in a way that meant he wasn't asking, and wouldn't take no for answer--not that Timmy wanted to argue.

He went over the Eagle Scout's knees.

Timmy was aware that the brunet was doing something with the pulley system, but he wasn't interested at the moment. He was fixated on the way his body felt, curved over the Scout's lap, and the intimate way his boner rested against the blond's bare thigh, like it belonged there.

The blond--Mark, Timmy thought, his name's Mark--was rubbing his butt through the coveralls. Timmy squirmed a little at the boy's touch, which inflamed his senses and made his cock jump.

"Gonna have to teach you better than to spy on other people, boy. Gonna have to turn this cute butt red." He continued to stroke Timmy' ass-cheeks and the farmboy was pretty sure he felt the Scout's own erection under his belly. "But first, these goddamn jeans have gotta go!" The Scout pulled on the coveralls, and Timmy lifted up off his lap to allow the blond to remove them. They fell around his ankles, and he was instantly aroused, knowing he was completely bare in front of the humpy teenager.

"Mmmm," the blond murmured, continuing to caress Timmy's now exposed buttocks. "Nice butt, farmboy. Smooth. Round. Good muscle tone. And milky white!" He laughed. "That's gonna change in a minute!"

The hand on his naked ass made Timmy dizzy. The Scout was feeling up his vulnerable bottom from spine to cheek to crack, sending waves of erotic heat coursing through the farmboy's cock which, freed of the coveralls, was rubbing whorishly against the Scout's bare thigh, spreading a thin residue of pre-cum along the hairless flesh.

Timmy was moaning softly, pushing his butt up with his hips. No male other than his father and his pediatrician had ever touched his ass, and certainly not in such an erotic fashion. The Scout's busy palm was sending electric jolts throughout his body, concentrated in his cock (which was stiff as he'd ever known it to be), his balls (which were drawn up tightly and roiling in their fleshy sac) and his butthole (which was loosening and tightening in anticipation).

The farmboy was so absorbed in the new feelings coursing through him that he failed to sense the change in Mark's posture as he raised his arm and brought his hand down across Timmy's buttocks.

The smack! of palm against pliant ass-flesh rent the air, followed by a sharp, spreading pain that suffused the boy's upturned bottom. Timmy yelped, as much in pleasure as pain and surprise. His buttocks tensed involuntarily at the blow, which had landed across both cheeks at once, but found himself rising up to meet the next slap.

It wasn't long in coming.

This one landed on his right cheek, adding a delicious, fresh frisson of painful pleasure to the one now slackening from the previous blow. It was followed immediately by a third slap, this one on his left cheek.

The blows came fast, now, and ranged in intensity as well as area. Occasionally the Scout hit the same spot a couple of times in succession, but mostly he varied the slaps: left cheek, both together, left again, right.

Timmy lost track of time, and of the count. He was grooving on the spanks--the shock of the blow, the way each slap made his butt tingle with pain and his dick rub wetly against the Scout's bare leg. He was moaning and heaving, pushing forward after each spanking blow, then back in anticipation of the next.

There was a pause, and the Scout once more caressed the farmboy's sore bottom. Timmy could feel the blood rushing to his butt-cheeks, the pain spreading, diffusing, lessening under the gentle ministrations of Mark's now-gentle hand. The contrast between the delicious violence and the sudden tenderness was sexy as hell, like being abused and courted at the same time.

Stroking Timmy's ass, the blond Scout reached beneath the boy's belly and gripped his rigid boy-cock, making the youth gasp as strong fingers closed around his sensitive, aroused shaft.

"One nice thing about spanking boys," Mark purred, running his fist up and down Timmy's shaft, "is they've got a built-in handle."

Timmy wasn't sure what the statement meant.

Suddenly the Scout raised his arm again and brought his hand down on the boy's exposed, vulnerable ass.

Now Timmy understood.

The hand around his cock held him firmly in place on Mark's lap as the spanking re-commenced and, at the same time, the fist slid up and down with the farmboy's own movements, causing him exquisite, aching pleasure.

The spanking continued apace.

Just as Timmy's butt was experiencing its maximum absorption of pain and his cock was nearing the danger point of climax, the Scout abruptly left off slapping what the farmboy imagined was his now very red bottom.

Timmy sighed, his body relaxing over the Scout's lap. He had been so close! And yet, he didn't want to cum... yet.

As Mark stroked and caressed his bottom, the farmboy became increasingly aware of how stiff the lump was in the Scout's shorts. It was poking against his naked belly, and there was a growing wet spot there.

"Hot butt, farmboy," Mark cooed, cupping Timmy's buttocks. "Mmmm... look at this ass, Barry."

The brunet stopped his activities and came over to stand next to his companion. Timmy felt a second hand on his scorching backside.

"Damn--hot to the touch, man!" He leaned down and spoke to Timmy. "You oughta see this butt, farmboy. Is it red!"

"Not a hair on it, either," Mark observed, running his fingers along Timmy's flanks. "Smooth. Sexy." He turned to his companion. "You about done over there?" Mark asked.

"Pretty much. When's he gonna be ready?"

"Soon," the blond said evenly, pushing Timmy's cheeks apart with one hand. "Very soon..."

A finger moved into the open cleft and the boy gasped, knowing the Scout was about to touch his pucker--that sensation so long dreamed of and never, until now, experienced.

The fingertip landed dead center and slowly run across his butthole, making him squirm and moan.

"Like that, farmboy?"

Timmy moaned in response.

"This pussy virgin, boy?" the Scout asked, pressing slightly harder against the pliant flesh.

"Yessssssss," Timmy hissed, pushing his hips upward to meet the questing finger.

"Hear that, Barry? We got us a virgin, baby."

"I don't believe it," the brunet scoffed. "Hot little ass like that, out here in the fuckin' country? You know some farm-hand's already plowed that field."

"I am so a virgin!" Timmy protested.

"Or maybe some of his school buddies took turns on it. You get gang-fucked, farmboy? Stick your cute butt up in the air and wait for the football team to get their nut?"


"Maybe Daddy plugs it when he's drunk, huh?" Barry knelt by Timmy's head and pulled it up by the hair, making the boy wince. "Does Daddy corn-hole you on Saturday night when he gets liquored up, farmboy?"

"I'd never--I mean, he wouldn't--No!"

"Aw, leave the kid alone, Barry," Mark said irritably.

The brunet snorted and let go.

"If he's a virgin, so am I."

"I don't care one way or the other," the blond answered, pressing his finger firmly against Timmy's now relaxed back door. "It's tight and it's hot and it's gonna love it."

"Just get him ready," his friend answered.

The blond shifted his legs and patted Timmy's rump.

"Get up, kid."

Timmy rose, with difficulty. His dick was so hard it hurt, his legs were stiff from holding the position so long, and his buns were definitely sore from the spanking. He stood before the Scout, his cock throbbing wildly, a long rivulet of pre-cum dripping down from the tip. He kicked the coveralls from around his ankles, and waited.

"Nice cock, farmboy."

Timmy blushed. He felt incredibly naked. Well, he was naked, but under the appraising gaze of this handsome teenager he felt exposed in a way he'd never known before.

He raised his eyes shyly, and saw that the blond was smiling at him in an easy, friendly way. He held out a hand and Timmy took it. The flesh felt warm and pleasant on his own.

"C'mon, baby. Lie down on that straw." He indicated a big stack of hay in one corner. Timmy complied, not even minding the way the old hay stuck into his naked skin.

"Turn over," the Scout instructed him. Timmy rolled onto his belly, and the blond knelt behind him, pushing his thighs apart. "Relax, baby," he murmured. "I'm gonna make you so happy..."

Strong arms took hold of Timmy's thighs and raised them. Soft kisses descended on the farmboy's skin, moving upward. He moaned as the lips kissed all over his excited butt-cheeks. He couldn't believe how sensual it felt.

The Scout placed long, lingering kisses all over the boy's ass, dully throbbing now from the spanking, the pain receding and his nerve endings acutely attuned to the delicious feel of the blond's lips on his butt.

Now a soft, wet tongue replaced the soft, warm lips; the blond was licking Timmy's hairless ass-cheeks. The boy's entire body tensed in unexpected pleasure, then relaxed to enjoy the warm, moist sensations. The tongue was warm, yet cooling on his spanked butt-flesh, and ranged over all the rounded contours of the farmboy's ass, soothing and enflaming him at once. He moaned, feeling his cock pulse against the hay beneath him.

The Scout's hands pried Timmy's cheeks apart, and the boy felt a rush of cool air lick his anus. It felt wonderful, and wonderfully erotic. He thought he knew what was coming, and groaned as the warm breath of the Eagle Scout replaced the day's cooling air on his pucker.

And then, incredibly to Timmy, the tongue was licking around between his cheeks.

It moved, languidly, in a circular motion, drawing nearer and nearer to his boy-hole. It felt intensely erotic and, at the same time, oddly soothing.

Then the tip of Scout's tongue was right in the center of Timmy's asshole.

The boy yelped with sheer, unexpected pleasure as the wet probe settled in, pushing gently but inexorably inward. He relaxed his sphincter, pushing outward with his butt-lips, begging for the tongue to move inside him. It did so, unhurriedly, yet lapping eagerly, moistening the boy's fuck-hole and sliding in further, bit by bit, until Timmy felt the wider part of the Scout's tongue slip inside him.

He was groaning now, unashamedly, and pushing back with his hips, desperate to get more of the soft-hard invader within the pliant folds of his boy-pussy.

"Mmmmmm," the blond murmured, delving deep. He withdrew his tongue and patted the boy's butt lovingly. "I love the way your boy-hole tastes, baby. Clean and sweet!"

Timmy murmured and swiveled his hips, fucking the hay with his leaking cock. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to hold back this time, and by now he was so turned-on, he didn't care. He was young enough to know he could cum again before too long.

To his delight, the blond began darting his tongue in and out, fucking Timmy's super-sensitive boy-hole rapidly, slicking it up with his prodigious saliva.

The boy was humping his hips back and forth. His backside was being driven into paroxysms of delight and his teen-cock was stabbing the haystack.

He came.

It seemed to rise from his toes, which were tensed against his feet, and the explosion rocked the young farmboy it every part of his body. His asshole spasmed on the invading tongue as he shot a seemingly endless load of boy-cream from his bent-up balls. He thrashed and moaned and gasped for breath as his cock spewed its devastating climax into the hay beneath him.

When it was over and the world returned to normal, Timmy lay, exhausted by the heat and violence of his orgasm. His body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and his breath came raggedly.

"Farmboy likes gettin' rimmed, that's for sure," the brunet observed. "Too bad I wasn't sucking him, though. Hate to see all that fresh cum go to waste."

The blond Scout was gently rubbing Timmy's quivering buttocks.

"Bet there's more where that came from," Mark laughed softly. "Right, baby?"

Timmy moaned an affirmative, still not quite able to speak after the shattering climax he'd just experienced.

"If his cum tastes as good as his butt... man!"

"Let me down there, while he's still nice an' wet," the brunet urged. They changed places, and the darker Scout pushed the boy's sweaty butt-cheeks apart, sliding his finger around in the saliva-moist cleft.

Timmy relaxed, waiting, and the Scout's finger soon found his entrance and pushed against it. The boy-hole was so slick and dilated his finger slipped inside easily, and Timmy gasped at the unaccustomed but delightful feeling in his butt as the finger probed deeper and deeper, moving past the tight ring and up inside his rectum.

Barry pulled his finger back and twisted the tip of it around just inside the farmboy's hole, relaxing the muscle and making Timmy sigh and squirm with pleasure. Although his cock was spent, it was still sensitive and tingly, and he felt the digital exploration as much in his tight balls as in his bottom.

The Scout thrust his finger in deep, searching for and locating Timmy's prostate, making him gasp and clench his anal muscles as the brunet massaged the little knot gently. Unconsciously, the boy pushed back with his hips, willing the pleasurable sensations deeper.

"I still think he's had it before," Barry murmured breathily as he probed the boy. "He's too eager to be a virgin."

"Don't you remember the first time I did you?" Mark asked. "You were just as wild."

"Hmph," Barry snorted derisively, fingering the (admittedly perfect and delectable) boy-butt before him. "Maybe."

"Maybe, shit," Mark riposted. "You were like a whore in heat, baby. Unless you were lyin' to me, and you weren't cherry either."

"I was."

"Well, so is he."

"How can you be so damn sure?"

Mark shrugged.

"I just believe him, is all. How many guys say they're virgins when they're not?"

Timmy said nothing. He wasn't sure he could have spoken coherently with the Scout busily fingering him anyway, but he knew nothing he might say, if he could, would alter Barry's beliefs.

Suddenly, Barry pulled his finger from Timmy's clenching hole. The farmboy shuddered, feeling empty. Then two fingers pressed in where only one had before. Timmy's asshole, lubricated with the blond Scout's saliva, gave way to the digital onslaught, and he moaned as Barry's fingers went past his relaxed anal ring and deep inside him, thrusting upward.

Nothing the boy had ever experienced could compare to the myriad, dizzying rush of sensations suffusing his body as the Scout dexterously opened him up. His nipples were hard, his breath catching as he sighed and moaned, and his cock was reasserting its potency, stiffening stickily in the wet pool of cum on which it lay.

It was throbbing wildly again, a drizzle of pre-cum flowing from the glans, as Timmy's scrotum grew taut, his balls roiling. His butt, the center of all this erotic pleasure, pushed up and back, begging for more.

"Think you can handle another one, kid?"

"Yes!" Timmy shouted greedily. "Give it to me!"

Two fingers exited, making deliciously liquid sounds as they passed out of the boy's clutching hole, and were replaced by three, which shot up his rectum easily.

As the Scout fucked the boy with his fingers, Timmy's verbal interjections grew from moans to articulated demands, until they filled the barn in an endless flow of pleading.

"Fuck me! Fuck my butt! C'mon--please! Do it! Fuck me!!"

The brunet stopped probing, three fingers deep up the farmboy's humping rear.

He looked at his boyfriend with surprise at the outburst.

"Kid wants it bad."

"Yep. We'd better give it to him."

Barry withdrew his fingers, slowly, pausing at the very interior of the boy's butt-lips and swirling them around a bit before pulling out. Timmy relaxed again, collapsing onto the hay. His butthole spasmed rapidly, savoring the tingling, insatiable craving the Scout's expert fingers had left behind in his now-insatiable ass.

Mark leaned over the limp, helpless boy and lifted him up in his arms, turning him over and hauling him up to stand on his very unsteady legs.

Timmy stared, glassy-eyed, into the face of the Eagle Scout, which now bore a gentle, encouraging smile. Mark cupped the boy's buttcheeks and walked him over to his buddy.

Barry was standing by the apparatus he'd rigged up previously, and Timmy, with a leaping heart and a jump at the groin, that he had fashioned a kind of sling from the ropes and dangling chains. He'd even located some discarded leather strops and made a sort of seat from them, open in the middle. Timmy's asshole twitched as he looked at it; he knew what was going in the center of that open space!

"Ready to take a ride, boy?" Barry smirked, jangling the chains. The sound made Timmy's re-hardening cock pulse.

Mark took the boy's hand and led him to the sling, gently seating him so that his butt slid into the open space between the pieces of leather.

Even in his excitement, Timmy was able to note that the Scout had done an excellent job. There was give to the thing, but it held him up off the ground and would obviously take his weight.

"Okay," Mark said when Timmy was in place. "Raise it up."

Barry heaved on the chains, and the sling rose, bumpily but with a sturdiness that impressed the farmboy mightily. His butt, and the rest of his body, was rising. When he was several feet off the ground, Barry stopped hauling and secured the chains. There was a slight dip as they tautened, and then Timmy swayed easily, his butt hovering at chest-height to the Scouts.

"Good job, Barry" Mark observed, impressed.

"It'll do," Barry said, blushing in his false modesty. Despite his gruffness, a compliment from his friend made always him feel accomplished and worthy. Mark was slightly older, and had been a Scout before Barry joined, so Barry worked hard to please him, and to make himself worthy of the praise.

The Scouts were both suddenly aware that they had a naked boy in a sling and yet were still completely clothed. Barry unbuttoned Mark's shirt and slid it from him, allowing his friend to do the same for him. They stood in front of the excited farmboy and, holding each other by the waists, kissed, long and unhurriedly.

Barry unsnapped Mark's shorts and slid them down around his knees. The blond stepped out of them, revealing a pair of skimpy white briefs with a very large tent at the groin. He quickly shucked his buddy's shorts and they stood, hard and yearning, smiling at each other, before coming together again.

Timmy watched with silent awe as the Scouts made love to each other. His heart swelled, seeing in these two hot teenagers the fulfillment of his secret desires. Sure, he was randy. Sure, he wanted to be fucked. But an equally large share of his desire was the ideal of himself and other young guy, loving, and not just pleasuring, each other.

The boys ran their hands along each other's sweat-glistened flesh and, as their kisses grew more intense, pushed their crotches at each other and gripped each other's asses hungrily.

They were more excited than usual, knowing they had an audience, as their desires were suffused with some latent form of exhibitionism that made them utterly shameless at proclaiming their feelings for each other physically in front of a total stranger.

Their hands snaked under each other's waistbands, eagerly cupping and stroking the butt-flesh under the cotton. Timmy nearly drooled, wishing the boys would shuck their underpants to let him gaze on the first hard cocks he'd ever seen up close.

Then, with (for Timmy) agonizing slowness, the Scouts pushed each other's briefs down in back, revealing their beautifully sculpted bottoms to Timmy's hungry gaze. His dick, already stiff, twitched at the sight of the nearly hairless butt-cheeks as the Scouts kissed and pawed each other.

There had been plenty of glimpses of ass, and lots of dick, in the locker room at school, of course, but none of them had ever been erect--shit, those boys would die before they allowed themselves to spring a woody in that place! For his own part, Timmy never stripped down to anything more revealing than a pair of cotton briefs, never raised his eyes to the glory around him for more than a split-second at a time, and always got dressed and the hell out of there as fast as he could. He wasn't about to be the only boy in the lockers with a hard-on. He had enough problems already without his classmates calling him out as a faggot.

Timmy never showered after gym class--no way he was going to risk that. Even if he didn't sneak a single surreptitious look at any of the boys around him, he knew that if he was naked himself and surrounded by other naked guys, touching his skin with a bar of soap, he'd pop a stiff one for sure, and the game would be all over.

But there was, Timmy had noticed, plenty of looking going on in those showers.

The other boys, while talking and laughing and boasting and teasing each other, looked each other up and down when they thought no one saw. Timmy suspected they were mostly just curious about what other teenaged males had between their legs--mentally comparing their friends' shapes and sizes to their own, hoping against hope they might be longer and thicker than their buddies--but he also suspected there was a little covert, maybe even latent, desire there and that, given the right circumstances (and maybe the right amount of alcohol) most of his macho classmates would give it up--at least as far as a circle-jerk or even some mutual masturbation. The bolder ones might even go down on each other, if only once. Hell, for all he knew, some of them might be blowing and fucking each other on a regular basis. Probably the ones who talked the most about how much pussy they were getting.

All these thoughts went by in a flash as Timmy stared at the proffered male ass-flesh in front of him and willed the Scouts to finish stripping and give him a good, long look at their own dicks.

As if divining his thoughts, they broke apart and pushed each other's shorts to their ankles, stepping out of them and kicking them aside.

They turned to the farmboy, grinning.

Timmy's heart jumped at the same moment his dick did. He stared at the naked, stiffened young cocks in wonder.

"Like what you see, boy?" Barry teased.

Timmy nodded, dazed.

He didn't like what he saw--he loved it.

The tall blond's was thick and medium-sized, and stood out an alluring angle to his body. Below it was a fat ballsac surrounded by fluffy blond pubic hair. The shorter brunet had pendulous balls that hung low, framed by a luxurious patch of dark black pubes, and a long, thin phallus that arced upward at nearly a 45-degree angle, and Timmy's asshole suddenly spasmed at the thought of that arrow piercing upwards inside him.

Christ, he wanted that cock!

The boys came closer, their dicks tantalizing as they bobbed in front of them, pointing away from their bellies and telegraphing their intense arousal.

 "You know," Mark observed, languidly stroking his cock, "With everything else goin' on, there hasn't been a damn bit of suckin' today."

 "And I think I know where you can get it," Barry smiled, his eyes going from Timmy's wet lips to his young cock thumping against his slender belly.

Timmy felt a low whine tear out of him, like a dog begging for a treat.

"Be patient, baby," Mark said soothingly, running his fingers across Timmy's chest and enjoying the feel of the farmboy's nipples hardening under his touch. "You'll get all the cock you can handle in a minute."

Barry was looking speculatively at the boy trussed up in front of him, wondering how to proceed. Mark took note, and reached down to pat Timmy's butt.

"Taste this ass," he suggested. "It's a honey."

Mark nodded. He pulled a hay bale over and set it under the sling. He sat on it, enjoying the way the straw tickled and bit into his ass. He looked up at the helpless young butt hanging down between the leather strops, its cheeks spread alluringly, its hairless pink hole winking at him.

He reached up, took hold of Timmy's buttocks, and pulled them to his face.

Mark wasted no time in preliminaries. Unlike his taller, fairer friend, he wanted to get right to the main event. No ass-kissing and licking for him--he just jabbed his tongue at the center of Timmy's boy-hole and dug in.

Timmy gasped as the tip of the Scout's tongue burrowed its way roughly into him, and his body tensed and rose in the makeshift stirrups, hanging onto the chains in an anguish of pleasure.

Barry's tongue pushed in deep. Mark was right--the kid's boy-pussy was delicious: shower-clean, fresh and sweet. He darted in and out, tongue-fucking the boy ruthlessly, sucking in, savoring and swallowing the teen-boy's tasty butt-essence.

Timmy was writhing in the sling, his eyes clamped tight, alternately raising and lowering his body in his state of pleasure. But his eyelids flew open when he felt a hot, wet tongue licking the tip of his cock.

Completely unknown to the boy, Mark had also pulled a hay-bale over, climbed up, leaned over, and was happily tasting the bitter-sweet pre-cum dribbling from Timmy's dick-head. He tensed briefly at the delicious contact, then relaxed again.

The boy was in a heaven, a fantasy, of sensual feeling. Here he was, helpless and vulnerable, naked and aroused, being serviced front and back by a pair of hunky, gorgeous teenagers! And only this morning he'd wondered if he'd ever get laid!

Mark had taken hold of Timmy's cock and was slathering the head with his saliva preparatory to slipping his mouth over it.

"Feelin' good, baby?" the Scout murmured, momentarily removing his tongue from the tasty young cock.

Timmy's answer was a moan. Then, inflamed by passion, he found his voice again.

"Suck me, please! Oh, god--suck my dick!"

Mark complied.

Timmy's dazed brain could barely process the sensations he was experiencing; he didn't know what felt better--the strong, insistent tongue pushing its way inside his hole, or the incredibly sweet sensation of the hot, wet aperture encircling his dick. He pushed his hips up to urge Mark to take more of his shaft into his mouth, then back downward to get more of that probing tongue up his ass.

Mark slowly pulled out of the boy's thoroughly slickened bunghole, and immediately replaced his tongue with his index finger, piercing Timmy's boy-cunt with a single, brutal thrust.

Timmy nearly levitated.

"Fuck," he murmured breathily. "Oh, fuck..."

The finger was twisting around now, just inside his butt-lips, teasing them into a relaxed state before plunging upward, deep, glancing off his prostate and making him tense and relax, clenching and unclenching his sphincter.

His cock was deeply embedded in the blond Scout's mouth, stabbing mercilessly at the back of his throat.

He was going to cum again. And he didn't want to.

"Stop! Stop!" he urged, staring at Mark so he'd know to whom the plea was directed. The Scout reluctantly pulled his mouth off the boy's phallus. Timmy relaxed, his body sagging against the chains.

"I--I gonna cum," he murmured in apology.

"No prob, baby," Mark smiled. "Hey, Barry--hurry it up, will you? The kid's close."

Barry grunted, and removed his finger, replacing it immediately with two. He fingered the boy roughly, spreading and relaxing Timmy's boy-cunt. After a bit he added a third, making the farmboy groan and widening the kid's hole as far as he could.

Timmy arched his back, his dick stabbing the air, and groaned loudly and long. He didn't know how much longer he could stand the ass-play, but part of him wanted it to go on and on...

"Barry..." he whispered huskily. "Fuck me, Barry--please!"

Mark, meanwhile, had gone to where his shorts lay. From his pockets he retrieved a couple packets of lube and two condoms in foil packaging. He sauntered over to the two boys, cock bobbing from side to side, and ducked under the sling. Barry, waiting for him, had removed his fingers from Timmy's clutching hole.

Kneeling, Mark ripped open a rubber with his teeth, drew it out of the packet, and lovingly unfurled it over Barry's pre-cum-slathered dick. Barry sat, stroking his shaft and his buddy ducked back out to stand beside the writhing farmboy.

"Turn over, baby. Okay? Rest your knees on the straps."

Groaning in a combination of need, frustration and eager excitement, Timmy used the chains to haul himself up and onto his knees. Trembling, he placed his knees on the leather strops that had supported his hanging ass a moment before. The improvised sling supported him nicely, holding him in position so that his wet, willing butt was raised up and ready for Barry's anal assault. He gripped the chains in front of him, and waited. Breathing hard, sweat glistening from every pore of his body.

He felt Barry climbing up to him. His asshole twitched wetly in anticipation.

Mark judged that the boy's pussy was probably wet enough from the workout Barry had been giving him, but that, being his first time, safe was best. He tore open one of the packets of lube, squirted a healthy amount onto two fingers, and swiftly worked the cool liquid into the farmboy's boy-hole.

Timmy winced slightly at the cold wetness, but it soon warmed up and he began humping his hips back to get more of the probing fingers inside him.

When the boy was well-lubed, Mark squirted out the rest of the packet and grabbed Barry's throbbing dick, slathering it from head to base, pausing briefly to oil up and squeeze his friend's balls, which he knew Barry loved.

Mark stepped back and Barry moved up, spreading the boy's cheeks with one hand and aiming the wet head of his eager dick at the fully dilated butthole. Mark positioned himself on the floor near Timmy and spoke, softly and encouragingly, to him.

"Okay, baby," he said, his hand resting on the boy's arm. "You gotta stay relaxed, okay? Keep that pretty hole loose."

Timmy nodded. He was terrified, but as excited as he was afraid. He concentrated his mind on his butthole, imagining it wide open, expanded to the size of a quarter. When he felt the greasy tip of Barry's cock touch his anus, he flinched and contracted his sphincter briefly before willing himself to loosen up again.

He reminded himself that this was what he'd wanted, waited for, hoped for, dreamed of. A dick in his ass. As he got used to the feel of the hard object pressing against his soft pucker, he felt his anxieties leave him, causing his mind, his hole, entire body to relax

"Good boy," Mark said encouragingly, caressing Timmy's arm. "The head's the hardest part, your first time. Just stay loose and ease into it, okay?"

Timmy nodded again, and immediately felt Barry's dick-head move forward. His mind gave him the image: the hot teenager was about to spread his hole like a budding flower. The mental picture was soothing, and he was aware, contemplating it, that his sphincter had completely ceased to protest the firm cockhead pushing slowly against it.

Barry, normally impatient, forced himself to move at an easy pace, letting the boy's expanded boy-cunt slowly embrace him. It was a delicious sensation, but he had to fight the urge to plunge ahead and split the farmboy's cherry butt. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the tightness of the boy's asshole, sensing the smallest movements indicating it was responding positively to his dick and moving forward in concert to its dilation.

When his cockhead was half-embedded in the warm, wet passage, he arched his back and pushed.

The crown slid in.

Timmy's asshole spasmed, clamping down tight, then loosening, slowly, as it became accustomed to what was the widest part of the Scout's rod-stiff dick.

Mark gently brushed the boy's sweaty bangs out of his eyes and cooed, "You did it, baby. The head's the worst. Everything else is easy-easy." He patted the farmboy's damp, perfectly rounded rump lovingly. "Trust me, baby."

Timmy sighed deeply, exhaling a long, pent-up breath. He felt immensely proud of himself, and incredibly relieved. His greatest fears had not come to pass. In fact, it hadn't hurt a bit. It felt weird at first, of course, but between Mark's caring instructions, Barry's careful movements, and his own concentrated efforts to relax, the arrow had found its mark without discomfort.

Barry, glad the painstaking entry was complete, eased his dick forward, the wide head spearing its way up the boy's interior. Timmy pushed back to meet the invasion, and in a moment Barry was completely embedded in the farmboy's butt, his balls slapping softly against the youngster's sweaty flanks.

Timmy was suddenly aware of the thick pubic hair against his ass, and knew Barry's dick was totally sheathed inside his hole. He sighed, a deep, shuddering exercise that quaked his entire body and sent shivers of delight running through the Scout's rigid cock. The boy squeezed down experimentally with his sphincter, and was immediately rewarded with a gasp and a moan from the startled Barry.

"Oh, man," the teenager breathed, "The kid's a fucking natural."

When Timmy's anal grip relaxed again, Barry moved backward, then forward, slowly at first, but building up steam as he went, so that in a few moments he was fucking the boy eagerly, slamming his way upward and excitedly pulling back until he was almost out, then jabbing in again.

Timmy was elated. The smooth scraping of the hard shaft against his anal walls excited him, and the way it felt when the Scout pulled back was indescribable. After a few minutes he found himself moving in concert with Barry, easing forward when the Scout pulled back, then ramming his ass backward to meet the forward thrust that followed.

Mark watched the increasingly frenzied activity between Barry and the boy with a building lust, stroking his own prodigiously leaking dick in time to the action before him. After a bit, he moved to take up his favored position.

Nothing was sexier to Mark than the sight of Barry's butt while he was fucking. It wasn't a vision he got to see often, so he cherished those brief opportunities all the more. The way his friend's upraised buttcheeks parted and clenched as he fucked a willing hole--offering short, tantalizing glimpses of his little pink pucker when his buns opened--was utterly mesmerizing, and arousing.

For his own part, Barry knew how much Mark enjoyed the sight, and always tried to give him a good show. Although in their private sexual couplings he was always the top, while Barry was fucking his asshole ached for his boyfriend in a way it never did when they were alone. He wanted Mark to climb up and mount him, plow his long, slender cock deep inside him, and fuck him roughly.

This, too, was rare, and Mark knew his window of opportunity was limited. While he generally preferred being a bottom, grooving on Barry's thick cock as it pounded his eager ass, the brief chance at creating a fuckwich with Barry in the middle aroused him mightily. He tore open the second condom packet and swiftly sheathed his damp, ardent cock.

Knowing Barry would have compensated for his weight while preparing the sling, Mark climbed up behind him. The chain mechanism sagged slightly, but held.

Working fast, Mark tore open the last pack of lube, and squirted a glob of it over his dickhead. As he rubbed it in, Barry hissed, "If you're gonna do it, do it fast! I'm so fuckin' close..."

Timmy wasn't sure what was going on behind him, but he didn't much care. He was too absorbed in the astonishing sensations coursing through his ass, his cock, and his tight, hairless balls.

The most amazing, agonizingly pleasurable moments so far where when Barry eased himself almost all the way out of Timmy's boy-pussy, with just the head between his ass-lips. He would hold the position for a moment that stretched into an erotic eternity, causing Timmy finally to whimper in frustration. Then the teenager plunged back in, spearing upward and causing Timmy to grip the chains in an anguish of exquisite erotic bliss.

Mark, meanwhile, had finished lubing Barry's hole, and was positioning his cock at his boyfriend's back door.

He wasted no time or effort easing into Barry's ass; he knew that, at this point, the other Scout wanted it hard and without mercy. He obliged, feeding his hard-on into the hot, tight channel rapidly, sinking it deep inside, nearly swooning, as always, from the rare joy of the insertion.

Timmy felt Barry tense, relax, and grip his waist, a groan escaping him that meshed with the gasps and moans emitted by his friend. The boy was pretty certain now that Mark was fucking Barry as Barry plowed his furrow, and the mental image was so overpowering he nearly came. Not for the first time, the boy wished someone were photographing their activities, preserving the intense eroticism forever.

"Oh, god, Marky--fuck me, baby! Fuck my hole!"

Mark compiled, happily, eagerly. His cock became a pile-driving force, spreading Barry's hole wide and delving deep, deep inside. The head, attached as it was to such a lengthy pole, glanced against Barry's prostate again and again and again...

Barry, turned on to boiling point by the mind-boggling combination of the hot young butt enfolding his dick and the equally searing dick reaming his hole, increased his pace, bringing about the thing that pushed the farmboy over the edge.

Timmy hadn't believed that anything could be more stimulating than the Scout's previous in-almost-out-back-in-again teasing. He was wrong.

As Barry slammed his butt back against his boyfriend's thrusts, his dick momentarily broke contact with Timmy's boy-hole before ramming back up. The split-second break made Timmy gasp, but the rapid forward motion was even more astounding. As Barry's dick re-engaged, the thick head pushing through Timmy's anal ring made the farmboy groan in delight. Once, twice, three times...

Timmy had reached the outer limits. He could not hold back a moment longer.

"Fuck!" he cried, his eyes clamped tight. He felt the orgasm rising and, as it hit, time seemed to dissipate completely. There was nothing left on earth except his ass, the cock inside it, his balls, his dick, and the powerful climax he was falling into.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuuuuuuccckkkkk!!!" he screamed as his cock exploded.

If his previous orgasm had been intense--and it sure as hell had--it was as nothing compared to this.

As the spunk shot from the head of his aching cock, pressed beyond endurance by erotic stimulation, Timmy felt his entire body lifted. He was nothing, his existence consisting wholly of his roiling balls, his spurting dick, his clenching, spasming asshole, and his back, arched and straining as he held onto the chains for dear life.

Barry's climax had been approaching fast, and the way the farmboy's sphincter clenched and relaxed rapidly on his cock brought it forth in a powerful rush that shook him to his core. He shoved upward one last, blissful, agonizing time, and came.

And came.

And came.

The sensations were so intense, so expansive, so fully concentrated between the oily tunnel grasping his dick and the hot, greased-up log spearing his butt, that the orgasm seemed to come from everywhere at once. He felt as though the top of his head was being blown off, and he bellowed loudly as the long pent-up wash of cum sprayed the tip of his rubber and embraced his head in a backwash of teenaged jizz that caressed his cock like a warm bath.

Barry's response sent Mark into overdrive. Ramming home in an unyielding, passionate fury, he buried his dick deep inside his boyfriend's clutching hole, and gave way before the onslaught of erotic pleasure.

For a long moment, there was a deep silence in the hayloft, broken only by the hushed, heaving sounds of three young males panting and exhaling heavily, and the soft clink-clink of loose chains swaying in the cooling breeze.

Mark, the last to achieve release, was the first to move. He withdrew from Barry's sweet, oh-so-rarely-available ass with a slick, wet sound. He leaned forward and kissed the Scout softly on the cheek, then gripped the chains with uncertain arms and climbed out of the sling.

Barry was next. He pulled away slowly, letting the farmboy release him gradually. When they were no longer connected, he lowered himself to the floor.

Timmy seemed stuck in time, a statue with a dripping glans. The boy-cream dripped languidly from the head of his cock. For a moment he remained where he was, gripping the chains and blotting out the world around him.

Then he sank to his knees and fell forward, only his belly, his dick slipping into the opening that had so recently held his squirming butt in place.

He lay there, sweating and trying to catch his breath. He felt warm, suffused with a glow of sexual and emotional well-being. He also felt used. Spent. His ass felt, suddenly, empty, but his psyche was completely satisfied, his desires utterly sated.

The Scouts roused themselves out of their sexual stupor and descended on Timmy, licking his spent cum wherever it had landed during his mind-blowing climax, pausing now and then to kiss and exchange gobbets of the farmboy's jism, until the former virgin's body was completely clean of any tell-tale spots of opaque, creamy white.

"Mmmm," Mark enthused, licking his lips. "Fresh boy-milk."

"Farm-fresh," Barry laughed.

Timmy wasn't sure he could move. Didn't really want to. But, knowing he had to, he croaked, "Help me down, will you please?"

Two strong pairs of arms lifted him, hauling him off the ersatz sling and laying him gently on his back on the floor of the loft. He looked up, smiling, at the Scouts.

There didn't seem to be anything worth saying. He thought that anything he might come up would be so trite, so trivial and banal, that it would spoil a moment he wanted to remember as long as he lived.

Perhaps sensing this, the Scouts lowered themselves to the floor on either side of him and, taking the boy in their arms, gentle now and comforting, began kissing him.

Timmy purred and responded, wrapping his arms around the Scouts, curling them into his body with his legs.

They kissed, the three together, sharing their lips equally. Timmy kissed Mark. Mark kissed Barry. Barry kissed Timmy, then Mark, then Mark again.

Finally, they lay together, Mark's head on Barry's chest, Timmy's resting on Mark's thigh and Mark's lying on Timmy's buttocks, and allowed themselves to fall into a soothing, well-earned sleep.

They woke as the sun was beginning to fall. Timmy suddenly felt chilled, and roused himself, moving to his coveralls and slipping them on. Mark and Barry soon followed suit, pulling the still-sticky rubbers from their cocks. They took turns licking away the residue from each other's flaccid dicks, then gathered up their uniforms and dressed.

The Scouts went to work, silently, and swiftly disassembled the makeshift sling. Timmy shuffled moved the bales back where they'd come from and kicked hay around the area, taking special care to spread plenty of loose straw over the telltale signs of his climax.

When they were done, and the loft had resumed its previous state, Timmy nodded at the ladder and the Scouts climbed down. When they had re-opened the barn door, Timmy shut the upper shutters before scooting down to the floor below.

They went out together, into the gathering cool of the summer twilight.

Timmy checked the door, making sure it was closed and the rusting latch returned to its proper place. Then he turned back to the Scouts.

"You know, kid," Mark said, touching Timmy's shoulder, "we don't even know your name!"

The three laughed, the farmboy a little sheepishly.

"It's Tim," he said.

Now, why had he used that name? he wondered. Maybe because it sounded more mature?

Fuck it. They knew by now he was old enough.

"Timmy, I mean."

"Cute name," Barry answered.

"Cute name for a cute boy," Mark agreed.

Timmy blushed.

"Shit, Marky," Barry said suddenly. "We aren't gonna get that birding badge, are we?"

"Not this trip."

"Oh, well. There were some awful sweet compensations."

They fell into a little group hug, and the Scouts took turns giving their farm-bound playmate a lingering kiss and a slow caress on his backside.

"Thanks, guys," Timmy said shyly. "I--I guess I'll always remember you--I mean, since you popped my cherry an' all..."

"Thanks for letting us pop it, baby," Mark grinned, ruffling Timmy's hair affectionately.

"Yeah," Barry added. "Sure as shit beat sitting around in some field watching for a buncha damn birds!"

They turned and started walking in the direction they'd come, and Timmy watched them go with a slight little ache in his heart. When they turned back and waved, he felt himself grinning, and waved back.

They moved on.

Timmy watched them until they were out of sight. He sighed heavily, then started walking in the opposite direction, toward home.

As he walked, he felt the slick, wet gooiness between his butt-cheeks. That sensory reminder of all that had happened gave his spirits a lift, and he decided that even his fucking asshole drunk of a father couldn't take away what he'd been given today. The fulfillment of desire held in its wake the promise of more fulfillment. He didn't know where he might be going next, but wherever his path took him, there just had to be more cock at the end of the road.

Home now, maybe, he thought, but not for much longer...