Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2023 10:56:16 -0400 From: jason peebles Subject: Sweaty Scouts Chapter 3 CHAPTER 3: TWO TENTS While clinching a victory for the red team hadn't exactly made me "big man on campus", I did enjoy a fair amount of kudos from both the older and younger scouts though some of the guys were rightfully suspicious of my dark horse status. "You caught that little twerp hours ago, dude, what the fuck happened," one of Chris's buddies berated him. "I don't know man, the kid is scrappy," Chris replied coolly, flashing me an almost imperceptible wink. Chris took the ribbing on the chin carefully concealing the events of that afternoon. Rob Anderson slunk back into camp about forty-five minutes after us. Clearly irate, he and Chris argued in an agitated manner. I couldn't hear what was said, but in the end, Rob stormed off angrily. Later that evening, Mr. Snyder, the troop leader, approached me. "Good job today, son," he put his hand on my shoulder. "Thank You sir," I replied. "You were out there for a while, I hope the older boys didn't rough you up too much," he said with concern. "No sir," I answered, "Most of the guys go easy on us. It's just for fun." "OK, good Ryan, I'm glad to hear it." Mr. Snyder paused for a moment and then added, "because you know, if there was ever a problem with any of the boys you can talk to me or any of the den leaders about it." I felt exposed, like Mr. Snyder knew what Chris had done and furthermore, that I had liked it. "Thanks Snyder," I addressed him irreverently, emboldened by my victory and my desire to protect Chris, "but I'm pretty sure I can handle myself." "Of course, you can," Mr. Snyder replied disingenuously, "but these camp outs can be rough for you first timers and I just like to check in with the younger guys." "Having a ball." I replied curtly. "Well, OK," Mr. Snyder nodded suspiciously and wandered away. After supper, all the scouts retired to their tents. David and I sat on our sleeping bags, facing each other, just a few inches apart in our small but adequately erected domicile. David's interrogation began. "Seriously though, what took you guys so long, and how did you get away from Chris? No offense Ryan, but it's not like you can actually outrun the guy." I shrugged my shoulders unconvincingly. "Tell me!", Ryan started whining and jabbing me in the side, "I won't tell anyone, I promise!" "Quit it!" I yelled, smacking David's hand out of the way, but he was relentless with his annoying little jabs which both stung and tickled. "OK, OK, just quit it and I'll tell you," David relented and waited attentively. My mind reeled trying to concoct a plausible story. There was so much about the afternoon I couldn't tell David, the pissing contest, the intrusive kiss...Was the underwear prank a secret? I would never want to betray Chris's trust...Best to be vague, I figured. "You know Rob Anderson, right?" David nodded. "Me and Chris saw him on the way back to camp. Chris needed my help playing a prank on him. We were just horsing around and I guess we lost track of time...um...Chris and Rob got into, like, a fight. They were going at it pretty hard and I guess neither of them noticed I had slipped away. I was almost at camp when Chris started to chase me down. Probably tired from all the fighting. Not sure what happened to Rob." There. That all seemed to make sense. "I'm calling major BS!" David's disbelieving smile made my face redden. "First off, why the hell would Chris Johnston need your help for...ANTYHING? Secondly, Chris and Rob are buddies! They did their eagle scout project together. I'm sure they would have both beaten the shit out of YOU, not each other!" "That's not true!", I protested a bit too vehemently, "Chris said Rob is a bully. You'll see tomorrow!" I said cryptically, imagining Chris high fiving me the next morning while Rob Anderson's underwear flapped gently in the breeze. "Me and Chris are friends!" I added with too much girlish emotion. David howled. "Me and Chris are friends!", he mimicked me in a high-pitched voice doubled over in laughter. My heart sank. I hated when David took cheap shots at me like that and it was all the more common the older we got. "Well, if any of that story IS true," David continued, finally catching his breath, "you better watch your back for the rest of the trip. Rob Anderson will murder you!" "What's the matter?" I asked, attempting to one up his dig at me, "your butthole still sore from that wedgie he gave you?" "Don't even joke!" David said earnestly, demonstrably rubbing his ass crack for effect. David lifted his t-shirt over his head and reached for his pajamas. His body was sun-kissed which highlighted hints of muscle definition which were heretofore unapparent. His nipples were small like mine, but they sat upon small globes of nicely developing pectorals. "Stare much?", David caught me looking at him. "Since when do you have titties?" I asked, trying to mimic his manner. "Oh, these babies?" David flexed causing his chest to move ever so slightly. He leaned forward toward me and pushed his pecs together. "You like my cleavage, Ryan?" he attempted a sultry feminine lilt. "You maybe want to titty fuck me?" "Shut up you weirdo!" I squealed, pushing him backwards with my bare foot. "Come on, Ryan, let's get ready for bed and then we can read those comic books." "Right," I agreed, leaning backward on my butt and pulling down my shorts to my ankles with one quick yank. "What the fuck?" David was howling again, "Why are you not wearing underwear?" Shit! I had forgotten that Chris had taken my underwear. I could feel my face reddening as frantically threw my shorts over my underdeveloped penis. "Oh, ha, yeah," I tried to play it cool, "I didn't put any on this morning," I fumbled over my words. "Yeah, I noticed I was one pair short for the trip and I decided to skip today so I would have a clean pair for tomorrow." "Yeah OK," David responded dubiously, "If you want to go commando, that's your business but if it's just an excuse to shove your junk in my face, well, all you really had to do was ask!" David grabbed my shorts from my hands exposing my penis once more. "Awwww, it's adorable, Ryan!" he pointed at my cock, "You should name it `Sarah', she looks like a `Sarah'!" David teased me as I struggled to cover myself with my sleeping bag. "Cut it out faggot!" I shouted at him as I grabbed my pajama bottoms and slipped them on under my sleeping bag. "OK, OK, no need to be dropping F bombs here." David removed his pants as I finished changing into my pjs. David was always wearing flannel boxer shorts. They made him look more mature than my tighty whities. "I notice Sarah's still a baldy.", he continued to tease me. I wasn't sure how to answer. Many of the details of puberty were still cloaked in mystery to me and while I knew I was SUPPOSED to relish the day my little pecker would sprout hair, for reasons unknown to me, I secretly dreaded it. "I'm only twelve," I offered as my meager defense. "Well, I'M only twelve," David haughtily replied, "and while it's not a jungle down there, there's definitely grass on the field. "Nuh-uh," I said incredulously. The truth was I didn't know or care if David had hair on his dick, but I wanted to see it. I had never seen another guy's dick up close before that day and hadn't really given it much thought, but ever since Chris had shown me his big hairy cock, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. Not only Chris's cock, but all cocks. When I saw Rob Johnson in the lake I had wondered if his dick was big and fat and mean-looking, just like him. I looked at the other scouts and wondered about their cocks too. Were they big, small, cut, hairy? Even when Mr. Snyder talked to me at the cookout, somewhere in the back of my mind I was wondering what an older man's dick looked like too. Was the hair gray like on the top of his head? Were his balls bigger and more wrinkly than normal? I was ashamed that my mind was so consumed with these anatomical curiosities and feared what it meant about me but I was largely able to convince myself that it was a normal part of growing up; that all boys are curious about other boys. I wanted David to show me his dick, but I didn't want to seem too eager. "I've seen you naked before. You're bald as The Rock." David seemed to take the bait. "No, seriously, it's new, and there's not a lot, but it's definitely there," he argued. My heartrate quickened. The tension in the air was palpable. I knew he wanted to show me, and I wanted to see it, but it was "gay chicken". Who would be the first to take the risk? If I didn't say something soon, the opportunity might be lost. "Yeah right," I managed. More silence. "I mean what do ya want? To see it?" His faux confidence and bravado gave way to a manner that was unsure, soft, and vulnerable. "No!" I protested, seeing the opportunity to grab the upper hand. "I don't want to see your dick!" I thought I sensed a crestfallen look on David's face. "But I DO want to see if you're a liar! And I guess you DID just see mine, so whatever." David grinned devilishly. "OK, I'll show you. But don't tell anyone!" David stood up and checked to make sure the tent door was zipped all the way down and then stood slightly hunched over in front of the door. Instead of pulling down his boxer shorts, he reached his hand into the fly, fished around for a second and pulled out his cock and balls in one compact package. "You fucking liar," I taunted him. "You're just as bald as Sarah!" "Shut up," David responded sheepishly. "You gotta get closer. I told you it's not a jungle, just a smattering. Come here." He motioned for me to get closer. I got up on my knees and inched forward just a bit not wanting to seem too eager. "Just come here!" he said impatiently, motioning for me to bring my face closer to his dick. "See," he said, using his index finger to gently brush the underside of his sack. "It's like when you get a crew cut." Sure enough, his testicles had an even distribution of short prickly hairs. "And look up here," he stretched his fly open further and pointed to the area just above the shaft of his penis. "It's like a little stashe," he said, rubbing his finger on the small tuft of hair. "Wow, you're right," I said, continuing to stare intently at David's penis. It wasn't big like Chris's but it was bigger than mine, fatter, more manly. His head stuck out past his foreskin which I guessed meant he was cut. His balls, while not enormous, hung down much lower than his dick like they were trying to escape. David and I stayed like that for about twenty seconds in silence, him petting different portions of newly sprouting hair and me transfixed. His cock was so close to my face that by taking deep measured breaths I was able to discreetly inhale his scent. Similar to Chris's but altogether different, it reminded me of the smell of sweaty feet with a saltier note and a bit more tang. Like a fingerprint, the aroma was strikingly similar to others, but completely unique to David. I could feel my dick stiffening in my pajamas with each breath I drew, I let it happen, so enthralled I forgot to feel fear or shame and enjoyed the empowerment of the moment. I could see David's cock also starting to become engorged and longed to see it get hard. "It's bigger than mine," I almost whispered, tempting him to show me just how big it could get, but my voice broke the spell. "Probably not," he disagreed, suddenly self-conscious of his inflating shaft. Hurriedly and with a bit of embarrassment for having attention called to his near erection, he stuffed his cock back into his shorts. "I'm a show-er and not a grower. It doesn't get much bigger when it's hard. David pulled on his pajama pants as I crawled back onto my sleeping bag, filled with disappointment, carefully concealing an erection I would have seconds ago been proud to show off. "Don't worry, it's gonna happen for you soon." "Yeah, I guess so." I agreed half heartedly. "Now how about those comic books?" David artfully changed the subject David started rifling through his backpack when the zipper to our tent flew open with a startling sound. We both jumped. "What are you two homos doing?" Danny Childs was a grade above us at school. He considered himself "too cool" for the scouts but his parents made him stick with it. There weren't too many kids from our middle school in the troop so Danny sometimes condescended to hang around with us. I was lost for words wondering just how long Danny had been outside our tent. "Jacking off to pictures of your mom," David replied effortlessly. "Wanna join?" His confidence and quick wit left no question as to why he was flourishing socially while I still struggled to make friends. Danny laughed at the burn. "Shut the fuck up," he smiled big at David. Danny played baseball and soccer. Though his voice had deepened and his legs were solid and hairy, he hadn't shot up like some of the older guys. He was only about 5'6 but thick all over. I had overheard some girls at school talking about how hot Danny's ass was and had subsequently found myself trying to catch glimpses of it in the locker room just so I could understand what made an ass "hot". This is the story I told myself anyway. My capacity for self-delusion was startlingly well developed for my age. Even the most cock-sure guys our age displayed a modicum of modesty with their dicks in the locker room but didn't for some reasons give a second thought about having their posteriors exposed. When nude, Danny's ass looked cartoonishly large for his body, a fact that was largely concealed by his loose-fitting clothing. It was round and incredibly muscular but not as hairy as I had expected given the thick tufts of fur on his legs. Despite the mass and power of his backside, it jiggled seductively as he moved around. "A bunch of the guys are breaking into the lodge to raid the snack pantry and have a little party." Danny informed us. "Gunderson has cards; poker, junk food, soda..." "Yeah!" David said enthusiastically, "I'm so down to clown!" "What about you, champ? Wanna come do your victory lap?" Danny had never spoken directly to me with anything other than mocking disdain or cool indifference. As eager as I was to join them and "be part of the gang" my boner was in no danger of subsiding and with no underwear on, small as my boner might be, it would be impossible to hide. "I think I'm good," I said, yawning for effect, "That game was exhausting and I think I just need to get some rest." "Suit yourself," Danny replied swiftly with a sudden and humiliatingly obvious indifference on the matter. "Are you sure?" David looked me straight in the eye the way only a best friend can to evaluate my claim and ensure it was actually alright to go without me. "Oh, yeah, I'm cool." I gave him an almost imperceptible affirmative nod. "I'll maybe catch up to you guys later." Danny and David left the tent whispering and laughing enthusiastically. Even it was my choice to remain behind and I had encouraged David to go ahead, I experienced a tinge of sorrow and betrayal as David's world continued to expand, threatening to leave me behind all together. Once the coast was clear, I got out from under my sleeping bag and zipped the tent up completely being sure to also cover the small windows flaps on either side. I laid on top of my sleeping bag and lowered my pajama pants to my ankles. My dick was still rock hard. I moved the lantern closer to my crotch and examined my member. It was still small and thin but the foreskin made it look a little meatier. The skin stretched tight over my erection was soft and pale without a blemish. I started to run my hand lightly over my tiny nut sack, examining for signs of hair. It was hard for me to believe that there were two balls in there sometime. My scrotum was so small and tight and pulled up against my body especially when I had an erection that it just looked like one singular orb below the base of my penis. I ran my finger back and forth over my balls the way David had done. Still smooth as could be; not one prickle from an overly-ambitious follicle. As my finger moved up and down my small sack, my penis started doing the thing it had done when Chris was running his hands against my thighs; twitch wildly and randomly of its own volition with an intense bolt of pleasure. I could actually see the head of my cock get a little bigger and push forth slightly from its sheath at it would engorge with blood. Remembering Chris's large hands on my thighs, I placed my hands gently on my hips, closed my eyes and started running my hands slowly down toward my knees the way he had done. I had never noticed how smooth and soft my legs were. As I ran my hands back up, I did like Chris had done and turned them toward my inner thighs until they met at the spot right under my balls. My heart was pounding and my stomach was queasy. I felt like I might be sick at any moment as my young body processed feelings way too intense for me to handle or understand. My body compelled me to continue. I did it again and again, each time varying the speed...up and down...bringing my hands even lower underneath my balls. Every time my fingers hit that spot just below my nuts, my whole body convulsed with a shiver that sent goosebumps everywhere. I watched my small but monstrously swollen cock bounce up and down as waves of tingling pleasure washed over my body and then disappeared in a dramatic cycle. My penis was emitting bead after bead of that sticky stuff that was now pooling in the snout of foreskin and dripping down in sticky spiderweb-like strands onto my waist. I had never seen my penis leak so much. It seemed that the closer my fingers got to my butthole, the more intense the shivering was. I stopped touching my thighs and brought my fingers up to my nipples. They had become like pointed gem stones from all the excitement and I was shocked to see that touching them, especially at the same time caused a similar sensation. Suddenly I noticed something of interest on the other side of the tent. David's bag which he had been rooting through moments earlier was yawning open with the contents sticking out. On top was the pair of blue and white flannel boxers he had been wearing that afternoon. The smell of David's cock was still lingering in my nostrils. I thought of the way Chris sniffed Rob Anderson's briefs and without another moment of hesitation I sprang off my sleeping bag, grabbed his shorts and returned to my horizontal position. I examined the shorts. They were plaid but light in color so I could still make out a fair amount of light yellow piss stains and some patches that were sort of clear and sort of white and a little rough and flakey. I wondered if it was like the sticky stuff that came out of my dick. Was this cum? If so, then a lot more was coming out of David's cock than mine. I brought the shorts down to my thighs and started rubbing the soft cotton marked with David's fluids up and down my thighs. There was something about knowing that they were David's dirty shorts, snatched without permission, that made my body ache with longing. "Maybe he left them in plain sight because he WANTED me to take them," I fantasized. My heart continued racing, sending warm blood up to my face. My body was covered in a mist of perspiration. I brought the shorts up to my face and pushed the crotch to my nose. I took a deep whiff. It smelled like his dick but more pungent and laced with the obvious scent of piss. My dick was going crazy back and forth as I inhaled, making a stick mess all over the bald shaft. I grabbed my penis with my hand to steady it and was so overcome with pleasure I yelped audibly. I froze. I listened for any laughter or movement outside the tent, but the night was still. Turning the shorts over, I looked at the back side. A little discoloration but no real skid marks. I brought them slowly to my face, curious but scared that the smell might be revolting. I cautiously started to inhale. It was even better than the front. Instead of being a subtle musk, the strong hormonal smell of David's pubescent asshole aggressively invaded my nostrils and circulated wildly throughout my body. I laid the shorts on my face and began rubbing my thighs again. This time with much more abandon and less self-consciousness. I was breathing heavily and occasionally making small grunts and moans. I didn't care who was around. I didn't care if anyone could hear. As I brought my hands up to the area underneath my scrotum, I let my fingers linger. Intoxicated by the smell of David's boxers I did something I had never considered. I slid my finger down passed my taint until it made contact with my asshole. "ohhhhhhh," I heard the desperate noise escape my mouth, soft, controlled, alien and possessed by pleasure. My hole was damp from sweat and a little sticky from lack of bathing. It was smooth and hairless like the front but every centimeter seemed to be 50 times as sensitive as my nipples. I was scared to push or prod too much but I continued to move my finger in tiny circles and my body instinctively undulated in rhythm every now and then jumping or twitching from the intense sensation. I removed my finger and brought it up to my nose. I had to know. I had to know if I smelled the way that Chris and David did. I inhaled deeply and, sure enough, I had a similar but unique musk. That odor was the most masculine thing I had ever observed about myself and that validation of my own manliness intensified my arousal ten fold. Suddenly and for reasons beyond my understanding, I missed Chris intensely. I looked at David's boxers lying in a heap on my chest and had an idea. "Fuck David," I suddenly thought. "Fuck him for not believing that Chris could like me, that we could be friends...fuck him for always ragging on me and trying to look cool in front of the other guys! What if it was DAVID'S shorts on the flag pole tomorrow morning? That would show him. I'd be the one laughing at him for once while the other guys cheered ME on." Putting my sexual pleasure on a brief hold, I pulled up my pants, shoved David's dirty shorts in my pocket, and headed out to the area where the older boys camped. Normally I would never be so bold, but I had only that night discovered the power of my libido and subconsciously it was drawing me to Chris under and pretense necessary. A lot of the older boys, being avid campers with extensive collections of gear, chose to sleep in their own tents rather than bunking with others. Chris had a really state of the art pyramid-shaped tent. It would be very easy to spot amongst the sea of cheaper pup tents. I quietly crept through the small wooded area easily spotting Chris's tent on the other side. Many of the tents appeared to be unoccupied, their inhabitants no doubt at the lodge party. I hoped that Chris had decided to skip it. As I approached, I began to hear what sounded like the low repetitive drone of an electric generator. It was a deep, rhythmic, drawn out and almost imperceptible..."whir...waaah-wah-wah-wah....waaaaaaah- wah-wah. I approached stealthily and as I got closer, I realized that it was not a mechanical noise at all, but rather a voice, it was Chris's voice. Sort of. I mean it was definitely Chris's voice, but it didn't sound like Chris. His pitch was lower with a muted timbre while his articulation seemed sloppy and jumbled. I wondered who he could possibly be talking to. The vocalizations were somewhat unsettling and spooky but curiosity demanded that I try to make sense of it. I inched closer, trying to pick out words...any words. I strained to listen...he was swearing...every other word was..."fuck"? Was he angry? Was he fighting with someone? But there was no retort. Nothing on the other side of his long stream of babble. It was all Chris, a monotonous drone, not a conversation but a monologue. I listened again. No, it wasn't "fuck". It was "fucking" but he was drawing the word out..."fuhhhhhhhking ....fuhhhhhhking....fuhhhhhking..." There were words between, but I couldn't make them out. The way he was saying "fucking" was strange and primal, not angry, but unabashed and uttered out of necessity. I felt my penis and testicles start to tingle as I got just outside his tent, listening to his hypnotic tones and labored breath. Crouched at the corner of his tent, I could hear him more clearly and his words made my cock ache and my asshole twitch. "Fucking sweaty, fucking rank..." I could clearly hear his low, slow chanting, "fucking smelly sweaty, fucking ripe..." I could hear some movement as well, rhythmic rustling of nylon and polyester. I didn't know much about sex or masturbation but I had a basic concept that jacking off was something guys did even though they all pretended they didn't and made fun of each other for it. "Fucking sweaty, fucking rank..." he continued in circles. I had rarely ever heard adults swear openly in front of me, let alone talk down right dirty and it was putting me over the edge. My cock was pushing so hard against my pjs It was starting to hurt. I looked around quickly and saw no one else in sight. Covered by the shadows, crouched down at the corner of Chris's tent, I undid the snap in the front of my pajama bottoms and let my boner stick straight out in the night air. It felt good. I wanted to share this ritual with Chris even if he was unaware. "Fucking sweaty smelly boy butt, fucking hairy man bush..." I had never "jerked off" before but I figured that it was self-explanatory. I wrapped my hand around my erection and gave it a squeeze. It felt good. I jerked it sharply, but it hurt. "Too rough," I thought. I tried again. This time my hand was so loose that it slid right over my sensitive head with a bolt of pleasurable energy emitting a tiny bead of liquid as if summoned by Chris's chants. "Sniff my fucking butt hole, smell my fucking hairy crack" he commanded no one in particular, but I pretended he was talking to me as I rubbed the bead of liquid over my cock, instinctively drawing the foreskin down. I had to bite my tongue as to not whimper and moan. "Fucking stinky smelly dirty underwear," Chris uttered, his voice getting more distorted as if speaking with an impediment. I suddenly remembered David's dirty shorts in my pocket. I pulled out the clump of damp fabric. "Fucking rank, fucking nasty..." I held David shorts to my face and took a big whiff. "Fucking hairy smelly testicles..." I alternated between front and back as my stroking instinctively intensified. I started sucking on the crotch, needing to taste every dirty secret contained in his shorts. Something was building inside me. Something good. "Smell that fucking BO, fucking sweaty, fucking rank hairy....ARMPITS!" His voice rumbled. "Armpits...armpits...armpits, armpits..." his chanting continued rhythmically, fixated on that one word so intently it started to lose any meaning. Whatever was building inside me was emboldened by his chant. I knew I needed to catch a glimpse, to see exactly what he was doing, to see his cock, his body, the big sea of dark coarse hair that was home to his large testicles. I needed to sneak a peek. I slowly rose, cock still in hand, moist with sweat and sticky with emissions. I strained onto my tippy toes and just as I was about to catch a glimpse through the side window flap, I lost my footing and grabbed his tent pole to steady myself, inadvertently shaking his tent. "Hello!?" The spell was broken. Chris's voice had returned to normal only slightly laced with shame and fear. "Someone out there?" He demanded more confidently and authoritatively. "That you Rob?" I slowly started retreating toward the wooded area that would lead back toward my camp. "Anderson?!!!" This time Chris's voice was an angry whisper. I continued to retreat slowly and quietly, carefully stuffing my now terrified and deflating cock back into my pants. I continued to back away slowly until I heard the telltale thuds of heavy feet hitting the ground and I knew what I had to do; run! I booked it for all I was worth never looking back. I was safely hidden by the trees when I heard Chris's tent unzip, and was back in MY tent in less than two minutes. I climbed into my sleeping bag drenched in sweat, and nearly certain I was about to have a heart attack. "What had just happened?" I wondered to myself. "Was any of this normal?" I was at a loss. The feelings of reckless abandon and pleasure I had experienced only moments prior turned into guilt and shame. Voices in my head began telling me I was aberrant, dirty, and bad, condemning me and laughing at the inevitability of my perversions being exposed to the world. My heart and head felt like they would simultaneously explode as the cacophony of voices battled to destroy me. But just as I was reaching my breaking point, they subsided. All of the voices shut down. All but one. It was my father's voice repeating a joke he had told me years and years and years ago while camping in our backyard. "A man walks into a doctor's office saying `wigwam, teepee, wigwam, teepee, wigwam, teepee...' over and over and over again and the doctor says "Don't worry pal, I know what's wrong. You're two tents." "Yeah, Ryan," I said to myself, "just lighten up. You're too tense!" With that thought, I relaxed, smiled and closed my eyes. Half way to dream land however, my eye shot open with a start. What the hell had happened to David's boxer shorts?