Date: Sat, 2 Mar 2024 15:57:48 -0500 From: jason peebles Subject: Sweaty Scouts - Chapter 4 CHAPTER 4: PAST TENTS I slept fitfully. Conscious thought invaded my dreams. "Wigwam/teepee"; my father's joke meandered ominously through my dreamscape. My biographical memory was strikingly poor. Any conversational gambit beginning with the question "do you remember the time when..." frequently filled me with a sense of muddled confusion and thus this silly joke about tents floated in limbo searching for a tangible historical context; a harbor at which to dock. Half asleep, half awake, bits and pieces of my past wove their way through my consciousness. ********** The game was called "Two Tents". Dad and I would play during campouts in the yard. "It's like a knock-knock joke." He had first explained. "I'll go first. Wait a minute and then give a knock on my tent door!" Dad laid next to me on his sleeping bag in the modest pup-tent we had erected; him, me, a six pack of bud and a bag of lays potato chips. Dad looked nothing like me. He was just over 6 feet tall with a perpetual 6 o'clock shadow, a prominent jaw and a thick frame that went from hairy to hairier. These "camping trips" were the only times I saw his usually stern demeanor fade into something less vexed by the weight of the world. Dad threw his bed sheet over his head, tucking the corners under his head and feet and bent his legs, raising his knees to create an enclosure. He rustled around for a minute before saying "OK, go ahead, knock." A little unsure where to "knock", I tugged on the side of his sheet timidly and said, "knock, knock." Dad threw open the sheet revealing himself. He had tied his undershirt in the middle to make it look like a bikini top with boobs and had crossed his legs like a woman. "Fresh boy!" he teased me in a high-pitched lilt, "this is a lady's tent! Good day!!!" He threw the sheet back over his head as I cackled with childish delight. My father was not generally prone to silliness and I was giddy to see this side of him. "Alright buddy, why don't you give it a whirl," Dad suggested. Using my small frame, I erected an enclosure with my sheet and ran with the first passing thought that entered my adolescent mind. "Knock, knock," I felt my father tug lightly on my sheet. With nervous excitement I threw the sheet off my head and announced in a robotic voice, "attention K-mart shoppers, our store is now closed!" I quickly ducked back into my "tent" struggling to contain my squeals. "OK, OK, I'm ready," Dad said. I tugged confidently at Dad's "tent" and he threw it open revealing himself naked from the waist up. "ATTENTION K-MART SHOPPERS," Dad bellowed, "IT'S HALF OFF MENS SHIRTS!" Dad threw his white Haines undershirt at my face before retreating under his sheet. I screamed in mock horror but was elated that Dad was running with my K-mart joke. Not wanting to break momentum, I quickly wrapped the undershirt around my head covering everything but my eyes. "OK," I said, ready with what I was sure would be a killer mummy gag, but as Dad "knocked", I was inundated with the intense and pungent smell of dad's undergarment. I could literally chew on the odor. Dad tugged again on my sheet, and not wanting the fun to stop, I quickly set aside the olfactory invasion and threw open my sheet. "I am the mummy..." I rumbled dramatically sitting up with my arms outstretched. "Yeah, well that shirt alone is enough to wake the dead, buddy. You better get it off your head!" Dad, managed through his roaring laughter. "Pee-ew!!!" I howled, ripping the shirt off my head and throwing it back to my father. "I thought I was a goner!" ********** As I lingered in the mysterious realm between sleep and awake, these memories floated through my mind; my father, shirtless on his sleeping bag, strong thick salt and pepper covered pecs heaving with laughter, fruit of the loom briefs clinging to his waist, his belly, encroaching over the top of the waistband, coarse dark hairs covering his legs and peeking out in larger clumps from leg holes of his underwear. My father and Chris melded in my brain into a single entity, Chris's pubes and the smell of his body married themselves to the snapshot of my father sitting in his briefs laughing at my reaction to his rank, reeking undershirt. As I became more fully awake, whatever I had experienced the night before while touching my young cock at the edge of Chris's tent, was starting to happen again. Something was building in my body, something good, something that longed for release. Similar waves of pleasure washed over me and even though I wasn't touching my cock, it was rock hard, slightly spasming and threatening to explode. But just as I felt the waves intensifying to a dizzying high, reality intruded, interrupting the flow, once again, missing the mark. Suddenly, fully aware of my surroundings, I heard sniffling. My eyes snapped open like camera shutters and inches away from me was David, lying on his back quietly whimpering. "Are you OK," I asked groggily, shifting onto my side to hide my little boner. "No!" David responded, angry and raw with pain. "What time even is it?" I squinted, clearing my eyes from sleep. "Almost two. I'm screwed, Ryan. I'm as good as dead." He said with an unusual flare of melodrama. I turned to face him fully. His tear-streaked face, concerned and embarrassed, melted any residual resentment from the night before. His intense vulnerability made his body appear small and frail clad only in his flannel boxer shorts. "When did you get back, what happened?" "I left the lodge about an hour ago," he began, "and...I'm screwed! We're all screwed! We were just hanging out playing cards and goofing around, ya know? And that kid...Pat Carrol? You know him, right? He goes to Centerville? He brought a bottle of whiskey..." "YOU WERE DRINKING?" I demanded, somewhat hurt. I always imagined David and I would experience these adolescent rites of passage together. "I didn't even want to!" Ryan began to lose control of his tears. "Danny called me a chicken and a baby and was getting the other guys to rag on me too so I just had a little. Rob Anderson busted us. I don't know how he even knew we were there! He said he's gonna tell Snyder and that they're gonna call our parents. You know my dad, Ryan, he's gonna kill me!" David's dad was a higher up in the local law enforcement and though his position afforded us juicy gossip about any trouble the neighbors were getting into, his temperament left little in the way of leniency when it came to discipline. "What am I gonna do?" David begged. "Anderson's probably just bluffing," I offered, "if he was gonna bust you guys, he probably wouldn't wait till morning." I said unconvincingly. David stared away from me, hiding his tears, but I could still hear his cries. "Maybe there's something I can do," I said, suddenly excited by the idea that I might not only be able to swoop in and save the day, but also fabricate an excuse to see Chris. "I could ask Chris to tell Rob to back off. Chris and I are kinda friends after today and I think he might has some influence over Rob." David turned to look at me, his eyes glistening with tears. "Is that where you were tonight?" he asked, his voice tinged with jealousy. "What do you mean?" I asked nonchalantly. "I came back to grab my sweet tarts and you weren't here." "Why would you think I was with Chris," I deflected, flattered that it pained him. "I thought you said there's no way he would be friends with a loser like me" "You're just like obsessed with him all of a sudden," David replied. "He's a nice guy...one of the few in this troop that doesn't treat me like shit on the bottom of his shoe," I replied pointedly. "Well, he's bad news, Ryan. My dad told me that whole family is fucked up and I should steer clear. So should you. His father went crazy after JR drowned, it messed Chris up bad too. His dad has used his influence more than once to keep Chris out of trouble with the law and the mother has always been the town slut. I don't know all the details but my dad knows what he's talking about." Chris's mother DID have a reputation but I chalked the rest up to jealousy. "Either way," I breezed past David's warning, "I can talk to him before first call, maybe he can help. Better than nothing right?" "I guess," David responded, dejected. We sat there in silence for a while. David's breathing settled down and his sniffling stopped. Just as I began to dose off again, I heard David's voice. "Ryan?" "Yeah...," I replied dreamily. "Can I sleep with you? Just for a little bit?" Though David and I had shared beds frequently when we were young, it had been a few years and though I found the request odd, I was interested in comforting my friend. "You're lucky I brought the big sleeping bag," I muttered unzipping my bag to make room for two. "Thanks, David said. He comically rolled twice to his left, rolling right on top of my body like a steam roller. "I said you could sleep next to me, not on top of me!" We both giggled as I pushed him to the side. "Thanks," David said again, this time, close enough to my face that I could smell the whiskey. He had certainly had more than a little. "You're welcome," I said practically whispering. And with that we turned back to back - the acceptable position for sleeping in the same bed - our butts pushed up against each other. I I could feel some stirring in my dick as I felt his as cheeks pressing against mine. "Ryan," I heard David say again, even more hazy than before. I heard him turn over again so he was facing my back and could feel his breath against my neck. "Yeah?" I answered a little annoyed, turning to face him. We stared at each other for about ten seconds. I kept expecting him to say "thank you" again, but he didn't say anything. His eyelids began to slowly close and just as I thought he was going to sleep, he pushed his soft thick lips against mine and kissed me. I laid there stunned. His lips were still, pushed lightly against mine. Neither of us moved. My knee jerk reaction was to push him off me and make a joke but I resisted this part of my programming borne of fear and adherence to social norms. I closed my eyes and remembered the kiss at the party. I remembered how many times I had tried to think about making out with girls just to end up reliving David's lips. This was different than the party. It was private and sincere, it wasn't played for laughs, it wasn't forced upon me, it was more of an invitation than a demand. I let his lips linger a moment longer and then mustered up the courage to admit something to myself I had known for a while now, something that terrified the hell out of me and made my heart flutter into near arrhythmia. "I wanted this." Be it passion, love, curiosity, boredom or desperation I didn't know, but I wanted this, and I wasn't gonna push him off me. Cautiously, I pushed my lips gently to his increasing the pressure between our mouths and instinctively smooched his thick luscious upper lip. He did nothing for a moment and my heart froze. Had I done it wrong? Was this all a misunderstanding? Was he about to start laughing and making fun of me? But he didn't. He opened wider and took my lower lip into his mouth, kissed it once and then repeated, this time holding my lip there while his tongue caressed it. As if programmed with perfect synchronicity, our mouths opened in tandem, our heads tilted slightly to opposite sides and we locked lips as our tongues grappled to explore each other fully. It was my first kiss. My first real kiss. I had agonized over this moment for years (always assuming it would be with a girl), terrified I wouldn't get it right. But when push came to shove I knew exactly what to do, and there was no wrong. We made out like this for a couple of minutes, alternating between exploring the inner depths of each other's mouths and slowly and hungrily kissing each other's lips. I longed to run my hands all over David's smooth lean body, to feel the contours of his newly developing muscles, to touch his penis and rub my fingers along his sprouting pubic hair the way he had done earlier, but I didn't dare. I was still half convinced that this was all a ploy to humiliate me and at any moment I would hear the other boys laughing and calling me a faggot. A voice inside warned me to take no more than I had been given. After another minute or so, David gently broke the kiss. He pulled his head back, looked at me, chuckled very softly to himself, turned onto his other side, pushed his small but very round butt into the aching bulge in my pajamas, and started softly snoring. Overly-stimulated, my synapsis were firing on all cylinders. I could feel a sticky mess in my pajama pants which normally I would have cleaned up immediately, but spent from a physically and emotionally exhausting day I followed suit and drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face. I woke up some hours later to find that David had, at some point, moved back to his own sleeping bag. I was disappointed, but figured it made sense. I couldn't imagine what the other boys would say if they caught us sleeping together like that. I strained my eyes to see his portable clock. It was five thirty. If I left now, I could talk to Chris before first call and convince him to intervene on David's behalf. It would also give me an opportunity to look out for David's shorts I had dropped when running from Chris's tent the previous night. A wave of guilt swept over me as I remembered my plan just hours ago to try to humiliate David. Now I wanted nothing more than to be his savior. The irony was not lost on me. I slipped quietly out of our tent, grabbing David's now half-full box of sweet tarts on the way; I would need breakfast after all! As I approached Chris's tent by the light of dawn, I could hear a pocket radio emitting upbeat music mixed with a healthy amount of static. The window and door flaps were all up exposing the inside of his tent through the transparent mesh coverings. Chris was working out. He was doing alternating sets of push-ups and sit-ups without a break, counting and grunting as he went. He was clad only in briefs which seemed too big for him. When he turned to do his push-ups, I saw that he had some of the excess material from oversized underwear wedged into his ass crack to pick up the slack. I watched, transfixed by his powerful body. The way the underwear tucked into his trench accentuated the firmness of his ass. "Chris?" I announced myself boldly from just outside the tent. Even from the entrance his tent smelled like the boy's locker room at school. The air wafting out was damp and fragrant smelling unmistakably of Chris's armpits. My cock moved, saluting the stink. Chris stopped mid push-up and looked over his shoulder. "Just the little pervert I wanted to see," he said with a half-smile that elicited suspicion more than amusement. "Well come in," he continued, flipping athletically onto his rump. As I unzipped the mesh flap and got a clearer view, I could see that his briefs were so loose-fitting that his pubes were pouring out of the leg hole, his nuts were exposed, and his flaccid penis was swimming around being covered but not supported. "Fruit of the Loom", I read the waistband. He was wearing Rob's underwear; the same briefs we had stolen from him the day before. "Why are you wearing Rob's underwear," I asked feeling entitled to this information as I had been integral in procuring said article. Chris laughed through his stern countenance. "Oh, yeah, well you know, I figured he'll hike them down from the pole after morning call and get a real fucking surprise when they're all funked up from my morning work-out." His face was beaming with pride. "Watch this," he said braggadociously as he pointed down to where his cock head lay, hidden in the capacious pouch of the oversized briefs. I was happy to obey. "Wait for it," he continued, now looking up with his eyes closed. As I stared at the pouch, I saw a small dot appear and then slowly begin to expand. It was shiny and made the fabric translucent enough to reveal the hidden location of his cock head pushed against the front. He let out a grunt and the circle stopped expanding, having been halted by his urethral muscles. Two small drops of pissed dripped down from the briefs onto the tent floor. "Now that's control!" Chris announced proudly, "Wait till that motherfucker sees my piss stains in his underwear. He's been owned!" Chris laughed more to himself than in any way that might indicate he and I were sharing a joke. He looked back across at me as if suddenly remembering my presence and blurted out "What the hell are you doing here anyway?" "Well, it's actually kind of about Rob's underwear," I began, carefully presenting my case. I explained to him about the lodge party, the whiskey and Rob's threat to expose the younger boys. I told him about David's dad and how strict he was and how David had cried. I skipped the part about David and I making out as even I, myself, had not fully processed it. "...so, I was thinking, that maybe you could...brokerage a deal with Rob? Like maybe you give him his underwear back and he doesn't snitch?" "I see," Chris seemed to be mulling my story over. "I actually thought maybe you had come looking for THESE..." Chris reached into a modest heap of clothing and pulled out David's blue flannel boxers and flung them at my head. They smacked my face as I struggled to find words. "What are those?" I finally managed. "Don't fuck with me!" Chris bellowed, appearing legitimately angry. "Your little boyfriend's initials are written on the tag." Fucking David's anal-retentive mother blowing my spot. "Now, what the fuck were you doing creeping outside of my tent last night?" I stammered for a few seconds, fire burning my cheeks. Every blood vessel from my neck to my forehead was throbbing with embarrassment and shame. "I was mad at David," I said meekly. "I wanted to see if you could put his underwear on the flagpole too this morning to get back at him." Chris raised an eyebrow imploring me to continue. "But I heard voices. and I figured you were hanging out with the guys. So, I left." I prayed the lie was believable. Chris stared me down with a penetrating gaze. His expression was stern, but a glimmer in his eye suggested he was enjoying watching me squirm. "Why did you take off like a bat out of hell?" I felt cornered, I wasn't sure where Chris was going with this little cat and mouse charade. "I was scared," I finally managed. "Of what?" Chris asked. "That you would be mad that I..." "...caught me aggressively spanking the monkey?!" Chris burst out laughing. "Dude, you're a fucking riot. Any other guy would have given me so much shit catching me beating off like that and you just fucking ran away like YOU were doing something wrong. I love it." He continued laughing. "Oh, um yeah...that," I tried to mimic Chris's levity adding a few forced chuckles and nods. "Well, shit man, I'm not shy, but you scared the fuck out of me, I didn't know WHO was lurking out there listening to me smash it." Chris sensed my uneasiness and confusion. "I'll let you in on a little secret that I wish I knew at your age, man. Everyone does it, and most guys do it A LOT. More than they admit. It's normal, it's healthy, doesn't hurt anyone...all that shit. I get a little crazy when I'm going at it for a while...you probably just heard me babbling to myself, it's something some guys do. I don't even know what I'm saying half the time, I just like the way dirty words feel in my mouth, ya know?" I searched for any kind of response that wouldn't betray my naivety and ignorance but Chris continued before I had to risk it. "Nah, of course you probably don't, you're probably still shooting blanks." He laughed. "Fuck, you're funny, kid, you're more embarrassed by this than I am...and I'm the one who was caught with my dick in my hand! Though you did ruin my fucking nut." He was right. I was mortified. I didn't know where to look or how to respond. I sat across from him shifting awkwardly, fidgeting with the box of sweet tarts. I had never had a guy talk about masturbation like it was no big deal. All the boys I knew were either accusing each other of doing it as some sort of put down or were vehemently denying that they ever did it. I wondered if I was the only one who actually WASN'T doing it. I thought about the stains in David's shorts. He had never mentioned jerking off to me but maybe...I was struck with ambivalence, titillated but embarrassed. Listening to Chris talk shamelessly about masturbating while he sat there in Rob's dirty briefs, his hairy package half exposed, was making my penis start to throb and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But there was something about his ease and familiarity that made me feel TOO vulnerable and made parts of me I wasn't ready to face feel TOO seen. Listening to Chris the previous night was easily the most erotic moment of my adolescence, but what was highly pleasurable in the cover of dark felt dangerous and terrifying when staring it face to face. Part of me wanted to ask Chris a million questions about jacking off, cum, the sticky stuff that came out of my dick, and orgasms, but curious as I was, another part of me, unnerved by Chris's lewd, devilish grin, longed to change the subject and hide from my mounting hormonal impulses for as long as possible in the cloak of childhood innocence. "Yeah, really didn't mean to...um...ruin a good thing you had going there..." I laughed awkwardly, "...next time I'll um...yeah...so uh, anyway, what do you think about talking to Rob for us? Maybe you could help me out?" Chris looked off to the side slowly nodding his head up and down as if trying to solve an algebra problem in his head. "I could see what I can do," Chris started slowly, "but, I guess the question is, what's in this for Chris? You know I was really looking forward to sticking it to Anderson." "I could do your kitchen patrol today if you want," I offered feebly. "Nah, I don't mind it, gives me some time away from all the fucking bozos out here." He looked between my legs where my hands continued to fidget neurotically with David's box of candy. "I'll do it for your sweet tarts," Chris announced. "These?" I held up the box wondering how on earth this was a fair trade. The box was half empty. "Yeah," Chris said, smiling. "OK, deal," I replied with relief. By my estimation I had gotten off relatively easy. "Well wait, wait, not so fast," Chris said, grabbing the box from my hand. He shook it a few times making the candy rumble inside. "You gotta pass my challenge first, and it's gonna involve you eating all the rest of the candy in this box. You think you can do that?" Was this guy serious? I could easily eat that box and more. "Done!" I said, putting out my hand. "Not. So. Fast." Chris repeated again, giving my hand a playful smack. "You ever bob for apples?" "Yeah, we do it at the Halloween happening every year." "Well, it's kinda like that," Chris explained. "You gotta eat the sweet tarts wherever I put them, and you can't use your hands. If you use your hands, you lose and the deal's off. If you refuse to eat them, no deal. And if you don't eat them all, Chrissy no helpy. Got it?" "Yeah," I nodded apprehensively. "And if I do this, you'll call off Rob?" I asked, remembering the way David had cried and the tender way he had crawled into my sleeping bag for comfort. "Absolutely." Chris shot me a wicked grin. "Oh, one more thing," he quickly added, "you gotta strip down to your underwear." "Why?" I asked incredulously. "Cause that's how the game goes." Chris replied matter-of-factly. "I'M in MY underwear!" "Does it have to be?" I asked. "Are you still fucking shy around me dude? I've literally seen you naked!" "It's not that," I answered, kind of embarrassed to bring up the previous day's accident, "but, you have my underwear. I mean, I gave them to you yesterday to wash and I haven't gotten around to putting on another pair." Chris burst out laughing. "You are something else dude," he tousled my hair and reached back into the pile of clothes. "Here," he said, handing me my piss-stained briefs, "I didn't wash them yet but at least they're dry." He chuckled. "You can wear them for the game." I examined my briefs. They were definitely dry though a little stiff with light yellow stains all over the front and sweat stains in the back. "Come on man, strip down and let the games begin! It's almost sunrise." Chris sensed my hesitation. "We don't HAVE to do this dude, I just thought you wanted..." "No, no, no!" I protested. "I want to, I'm just..." "You want me to turn around?" Chris patronized. "Yeah." I was disappointed with myself. Even though Chris had already seen my little hairless dick and my scrawny body, I just couldn't will myself to get undressed in such close proximity. I couldn't invite the comparison with his thick bush, hairy pits and muscular body. I quickly lifted off my pajama top and threw it in the corner. I held my soiled briefs in one hand and yanked my bottoms down with the other making the switch almost seamless, minimizing the amount of time I spent naked; a skill perfected from changing in the boys locker room. My underwear was stiff and tight around my package making the fabric feel abrasive though not altogether unpleasurable against my soft, smooth cock head. "OK," I said, trying to hide my shyness. Chris turned back around with a big smile on his face. "I don't know why you're so shy about your body, kid, you got a great natural shape to you and as you mature and put on muscle...you're gonna be a stud. Trust me. I was built just like you when I was younger." Despite my doubts, I couldn't help but beam with pride. "Yeah, thanks. Let's just do this," I muttered. I had no idea what I had signed up for but I wanted to get it over with. I felt like I was on a roller coaster that had just left the station. A sense of imminent danger sent my heart racing with fear and regret, but it was that very danger that caused excitement to brew just beneath the surface. "Atta boy," Chris sprang to attention grabbing the box of candy. "Let's start easy." He poured a sweet tart out of the box and place it on the floor in front of him right on top of the drop of piss that had dripped from his briefs earlier. "Gross!" I protested. "Nah, ah, ah," Chris chastised me, "you gotta do it." "Yeah, OK" I said in defeat, planning my course of attack. "Hands behind your back," Chris reminded me. I did as he said and lowered my face to the ground. Reluctant to have my lips make contact with Chris's piss droplet, I stopped about an inch above the candy, stuck out my tongue, touched the tip to the round disk causing it to adhere and retracted it back into my mouth like a lizard, proud of my ingenuity. "Nice maneuver," Chris conceded with obvious disappointment. I chewed the sugary treat just once and swallowed hoping to avoid tasting anything but sweetness, but as the candy passed over my tongue, I could distinctly taste the salty bitterness of Chris's morning piss. It was just a hint but unmistakable. I winced for effect hoping the sooner Chris had felt he put me through my paces, the less gruesome this might be. "Alright," Chris said, placing a sweet tart on top of his head, "go for it." Chris had thick tresses of dark, wavy hair into which the piece of candy had disappeared. I jockeyed for position trying to get close enough to bend over and reach Chris's head with my mouth with minimal contact, but in the close quarters of the tent, the only option was to put my bare foot between his legs, up against his crotch while my other leg was behind his shoulder, my upper thigh snug against his muscular shoulder blade. The skin-on-skin contact was slowly waking my cock up. "Remember, no hands," he warned as I instinctively reached out for balance. As I squatted down to reach his head, the pouch of my briefs took rest atop his shoulder. I felt him push back a little with his shoulder as he grabbed the foot in his crotch with both hands. "I'll help steady you," he offered. His touch sent an intense bolt from the sole of my foot to the tip of my cock and I felt a tiny drop of piss push its way past my slit but I soldiered on bringing my face down to the top of his head. I was inundated with the strong scent of unwashed hair. It was altogether different from the smell of his armpits. It wasn't musty and tangy the way his pubes were. Instead, it had a damp oily smell like my old baseball caps. As my olfactory receptors became accustomed to the odor I experienced the odor as earthier and soothing, like an essential oil. I pushed my face into the thick matt of hair and opened my lips searching for the hard round disk. As my lips gently massaged Chris's head, his hands started wandering over my foot, caressing my toes and ankle. Goosebumps ran up my legs as my lips surrounded the piece of candy and I slowly lifted my head up. A lock of hair, now covered with my spit, slid slowly out of my mouth like spaghetti and I noticed, despite myself, my boner beginning to swell against Chris's shoulder. I stepped back quickly and tried to angle my body so he couldn't tell. As my cock head expanded, the stiffness of the fabric stimulated it in a way that was both pleasurable and painful. I longed to adjust it away from the rougher patches but didn't' want to draw attention to my unwanted arousal. "Good job buddy," he pretended not to notice my semi. "What next?" he said more to himself. I stood looking down at him, ashamed of my stiffening penis but forgot all about it when I noticed his cock head poking out of his oversized underwear. Chris appeared to have a semi as well. "Let's see how you deal with a little resistance," Chris suggested, acting completely unaware of our mutual arousal. He took a sweet tart and pushed it deep into his belly button. "See what you can do, but I'm warning you, my abs are like Fort Knox." With that Chris leaned forward in a half crunch causing his torso to ripple like the proverbial washboard. I looked in awe. I had never been this close to a muscular body in my life. Sat up with his legs stretched forward and his abs flexed, guarding his belly button, the shaft of his nearly fully erect penis was now visible through the fabric of his briefs and the engorged head was peeking out from his forest of pubes. He continued to act oblivious showing no interest in addressing the elephant trunk in the room. Instead, he looked down at my much smaller but just as obvious boner and said, "times-a-wasting!" I got on my knees and quickly brought my face to his stomach intending to snatch it up instantly and be done with it, but when I wrapped my mouth around his belly button he squeezed his abs tight, withdrawing the candy and giving me only a mouth full of sweaty funky naval hair. Chris would not relent so easily. I would need to be more methodical. I bent down again more slowly, placing my hands on the ground to brace myself but Chris swatted them away collapsing my face onto his midriff. "NO HANDS," he said authoritatively. I took a moment there, looking at his naval hair, glistening with his sweat and my spit. I followed the trail of hair down to the waistband of Rob Anderson's brief. My eyes hypnotically traced the shaft of his penis. With my head on Chris's stomach like that, I could clearly smell his cock. The smell was stronger than David's, muskier, dirtier, more manly. I had longed to see it last night, to see what he was doing with it while he was moaning and babbling like a mad man, but now, face to face with it, I was terrified. "Well?" Chris broke my trance. I thought of David and being his savior and pressed forward. Careful not to use my hands, I got up on my knees and kept my head down close to Chris's stomach. I moved my mouth toward his naval. This time, instead of using my whole mouth, I simply stuck my tongue into the small round pocket, swirling it around, pushing this way and that, hoping to dislodge the sweet tart, but it was wedged in there pretty tightly. From the corner of my eye, I could see Chris's cock start to bounce up and down as my tongue danced around his sweaty abdomen. My cock was also throbbing and I wondered if Chris noticed. Unlike the previous night with David, my cock was throbbing not in tandem with my desire but instead, with an animalistic desire of its own forcing me to desire something that felt wrong, dirty and uncomfortable. This war raged within me as I tried to free the candy. "Steady," Chris warned as my knees began to buckle. He reached his hand between my legs and grabbed my butt in his expansive grasp. My erection was now pressed against his wrist as his hand cupped my ass cheek, opening and closing ever so slightly massaging my little brief clad globe. "I'll hold you steady. You got this," he said, in some attempt to normalize this very bizarre game. Betrayed by my body, I struggled to move my cock away from his arm, but the more I tried to move it, the more stimulated I became as it humped against his wrist. Desperate to regain control over my body I I launched my head down to his abdomen, puckered my lips, surrounded his naval and sucked for all I was worth. The piece of candy flew to the back of my throat, almost choking me, but I managed to redirect it back into my mouth, giving it a good chomp and a quick swallow. "Damn!" Chris said, genuinely impressed. "With skills like that you're gonna make someone a very good husband one day!" I retreated away from him, sat down on my ass and drew my knees up to hide my erection, willing it to go down. "What's next?" I heard a voice say eagerly. It was my voice. Where had that come from? I wanted this game to be over, didn't I? I was only doing this for David, wasn't I? I had become a boy possessed. All of these manipulations made me feel a lack of agency and control, that frustrated me filling me with anger and sadness, but a reptilian part of my anatomy begged for it...needed it. I looked down immediately ashamed of my desires. "You're doing great buddy, just a few more." Chris took a piece of candy, reached down to his feet and wedged it between his toes. I took my place at his feet and tried to poke it out with my tongue. He clasped his toes together tightly as I darted my tongue in and out of my mouth. I breathed in and out slowly as I licked his first two toes. His feet smelled mildew and sweat and old tennis shoes. More like pubes than the top of his head, but with a fouler musk. The odor was moist and thick with a note of vinegar giving it a tart appeal. The scent went right to my dick and I became so consumed with licking and sniffing his foot that I was barely making any real effort to dislodge the candy. Chris's breathing became shallower and more audible. His hand reached down and began to massage his penis. The pain of my stiff underwear against my tender cock head was becoming unbearable. "Fuck it," I thought to myself, somehow finding the power to shed my inhibitions, "I don't care if Chris sees." I reached down to adjust myself as I licked the candy between Chris's toes. I grabbed my 4.5 inch boner with my fist and pushed it aside so the head popped out of the leg hole exposing it to air and giving it a reprieve from the scratchy fabric. "Hands," Chris mumbled dreamily. "Sorry," I said looking up at him. He quickly removed his hand from his penis. I bent down again, opened my mouth wide, engulfed his first and second toe and sucked and poked and prodded. "Uhuhuhuhuh," Chris shuddered eerily. "Good boy," he said in a strange voice that was grateful, surprised and dripping with animalistic desire. He shuddered once more, releasing the sweet tart from his toes and into my mouth. I chewed it, this time savoring every drop of the foot funk that had coated the small round treat. "Damn man," Chris said with an air of actual astonishment. His Cock and balls were now both full out of the side of his briefs, covered in thick dark hair, smelling like cum, sweat, and piss. He continued speaking casually to me as if he hadn't just been openly masturbating seconds ago with his big hairy cock now on display for all to see. "Ok, we only got a few more." Chris shook the box for effect. I slowly started to stand but Chris used his foot to push me back down. "Nah, stay there for this one man, it's gonna be easy, but remember, no hands." With that he shook a sweet tart out of the box, pulled his dirty briefs completely to the side, freeing his entire package and lifted up his big hairy ball sack and wedged the candy just below his taint. "This shouldn't be too hard for a kid with your kind of skillz," he joked. I was apprehensive at first, did he really just want me to...bury my face in his junk? His cock, now fully hard, was pointing up toward his belly button giving me free and easy access to the nutsack that was hiding the prize. He put it pretty far back though, almost to his asshole, I wasn't sure if I could do it without puking. I looked at his testicles. They were so big and hairy. I moved my face closer. The odor trumped his feet. The musk and vinegar taste were accompanied by the salty acrid smell of damp piss. There was also a sour, almost chlorinated smell emanating from beneath the more aggressive sweaty tones. It was a new and unfamiliar scent but it mixed with everything else seductively. I was losing the war. I felt my defenses failing as I became a slave not to Chris but to the smell of his body. To his thick hairy cock and nuts. "Just do it," I heard a voice in my head say. It was my Dad's voice. No longer able to process anything rationally, I pushed my face between Chris's legs so that my nose and mouth were against the bottom of his nuts. I sensed his hand immediately move to his penis and I could feel him rhythmically stroking. I opened my mouth and tried to move his sack with my tongue but so heavy were his balls that I was more like a kitten with a salt lick than a powerful goliath moving a boulder. I pretended not to notice the futility of my attempts and continued licking and sniffing, savoring each waft of funk as it entered my body and possessed me. I thought about David guiltily, I thought about the depravity implicit in enjoying what I was doing, but these conscientious objectors were no match for the lustful need that was now in control. The smells of piss, sweat, cum and hormones were so varied that my olfactory receptors did not immediately become desensitized and instead each hungry sniff welcomed a new bouquet which, cerebrally, I knew should disgust me...should make me gag...and in any other context they would. But right now, there couldn't be enough. Chris placed his other hand on the back of my head and mumbled "come on buddy, you can do it," continuing the pretense that either of us cared about this game, while I could feel his body shifting with pleasure as he pounded his cock up and down. I opened my mouth and sucked in some of his sack skin pulled it up with my mouth nuzzling my nose beneath. I burrowed my face like an eager badger "accidentally" pushing the sweet tart further back to his asshole as he rocked back on his hips exposing his ass to me. My scope of vision was obscured. All I could see was darkness as my face pressed up against Chris's taint, and then hair and skin as I pulled back and then darkness again. In the darkness the scent of Chris's ass was the only thing guiding me home. Suddenly in the darkness, I was back home. I was in my backyard with my dad. I was laying on my back paralyzed with fear. Almost pitch black couldn't see anything but hair and skin...and that smell...that familiar smell...inches above my face... I opened my eyes and snapped myself back to reality, I took one more exhilarating sniff as I pushed my nose right against his sweaty, dirty asshole, sucked the sweet tart up from the floor, and then slowly raised my head, dragging my nose straight across his asshole, up his taint and across his nut sack. His asshole was ground zero for all the delicious and disgusting odors his body created. It smelt like his feet, his nuts, his pits, piss, and cum all at once and while his asshole was dirty from not showering for several days, it didn't smell like shit the way a dirty public toilet did, but instead, the damp dark brown spots that peppered the hair and skin around his hole took on an earthy natural flavor that didn't overwhelm, but enhanced the pungent fragrance of his body. My cockhead was damp and sticky but wanted more. Chris didn't stop stroking his cock, he rubbed it up and down as I watched. He wasn't looking directly at me, but off to the side, his eyes consumed by pleasure. He grabbed the box, and placed a sweet tart beneath the loose waistband of his briefs, "OK buddy, last one, come up over here and see if you can get it from this angle," he managed through labored breaths. He motioned for me to move up so I was sitting near his shoulders all the while continuing to stroke his cock, the head glistening like a mushroom covered in morning dew, the same sticky stuff on my cock head was dripping down on the sides into his hand and strings of it were making trails all over his body. "OK, go get the last one, he pushed my head down toward his waist. My body collapsed onto the floor without the use of my hands for support. I put my tongue on the inside of his waistband but stayed motionless for a moment watching him masturbate. His penis was so close to my face. I thought about trying to lick or kiss it but Chris had not instructed me to do so and I was scared of breaking the rules. I pushed the waistband down with my tongue a little further, exposing more of his pubic bush allowing it to brush against my face. He seemed to enjoy this even more than I did. His stroking started to intensify, "Oh fuck, oh fuck," he repeated, abandoning any reserve. His voice suddenly took on the foreign quality I had heard from his tent the night before. I took the sweet tart in my mouth completing my end of the deal but held it there while I continued to sniff his sweaty pubes rubbing my lips and nose across any damp spot I could find. "Fuck buddy, oh my god..." he said in between strained grunts and groans. "Fuck this," he finally declared, no longer willing to hold back his primal desires. Letting go of his cock momentarily, he scooped me up by the waist and effortlessly dropped my body on top of his, my face still in his bush and my underwear clad asshole right in his face. He reached back down, grabbed his cock in his hand and started beating the shit out of it. "FUCK YEAH BUDDY, THAT'S THE FUCKING SHIT!" he said in a deep commanding voice. I could feel his nose pushed up against my dirty briefs and could hear and feel his breath drawing in and out eagerly inhaling, nuzzling and even biting at the fabric and my flesh beneath it. His right hand continued pounding up and down as his left hand pushed down on my lower back, both holding me in place and gently rocking my body so my cock was grinding back and forth against his chest. Ambivalence struck again. I wanted him to stop but I wanted him to keep going. I felt the building of excitement inside again as I had the night before. A story who's ending kept eluding me. "Uhuhuhuhuhuh" I heard my body expel murmurs like a car engine as Chris manipulated my small hairless cock against his chest. "That's right buddy, that's right buddy, buddy, buddy, get into it, let it happen, let it happen," he encouraged. "Fucking boy butt, sweaty dirty boy butt in my face, little boy penis on my pecs," his free associations were barely intelligible but they were the exact same vocalizations he was making the prior night, only this time I was part of it. Without warning, Chris released the small of my back from his grip, grabbed my briefs just below my ass cheek and yanked them to the side, ripping them slightly and exposing my asshole to his eyes, nose and mouth. "FUCKKKKK," he screamed as I felt his nose make contact with my exposed hole and his desperate breaths tickling my tiny bald nut sack as he breathed in and out. "FUCKING SMELLY BOY BUTT," he grumbled into my hole. I had no idea what was going on, I barely registered that my asshole was exposed let alone that he was sniffing it like an animal. The way he was making my dick feeI rendered all else an impressionistic muddled inconsequentiality. Chris's breathing became louder and quicker as his moaning and babbling intensified. Without warning, he grabbed me by the back of the head and brought my gaze around to him. With a mischievous but labored grin, barely able to talk, he said "SMILE KID!" Unsure what to do or why, I smiled big at him returning his smile. He turned my head again now looking directly at his cock just a few inches away, and he screamed, "SAY CHEESE!" A submissive instinct kicked in, willing and eager to do whatever Chris told me, I opened my mouth and, mimicking a child getting his polaroid taken, started to say "Cheeeeeese!" but as soon as my mouth opened and the first syllable came out, a whip struck across my face. Hot as fire, and at first invisible. A thick rope racing out of Chris's cock at record speed, struck my face drawing a second line from my chin, across my lips, into my open mouth, and up to the area just below my eye. I hadn't even seen it happen. I just felt it. "FUCCCCCCKKKKK," Chris screamed in an unbridled shout of ecstasy. In the length of a nanosecond, a flash of knowledge flooded my being. So much became instantaneously clear; cum, orgasm, shooting... how had I not figured it all out earlier? But before my mind could process this moment of enlightenment, Chris, grunting uncontrollably began shooting rope after rope of thick goo out of his dick and directly onto my face. The first couple of bursts went straight into my mouth, coating my tongue and hitting the back of my throat. The next one hit my lip and dripped down like snot. The next went so far up my nostril that it dripped down the back of my throat. The next four or five pulses covered my smooth young face in salty globs, dripping down and hanging off my jaw like melting icicles. A couple more barely mad it out of his cock and the last couple of pulses were mere dribbles. Chris quieted and his breathing slowed. I was dumbfounded. The salty substance filling my mouth, nose and throat was repugnant. It reminded me of the overly salted egg drop soup my mother sometimes got from the local Chinese. I started gagging softly as part of his load poured forth from my lips and the rest, now oozing down my throat, forced me to swallow. My eyes started welling up with tears. Chris, returning from planet orgasm now had to figure out how to deal with a crying kid. "Oh my god, that was incredible," He tried at first. I didn't respond. Didn't move. The tears stinging my eyes skied down my face. "You OK, buddy?" he grabbed my body, lifted me up and laid me back down next to him. One look at my face and Chris's concern turned to fits of laughter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know it's not funny, but damn, no wonder why you're upset, I nearly downed you. I'm sorry man, I shoot A LOT of cum if I have a few days under my belt, I didn't mean to scare or upset you." Chris started to wipe the tears away from my eyes. It felt good. Instinctively I shifted my body closer to him, he lifted his arm and drew me to his side. "I'm sorry," I echoed his apology, sniffling a combination of tears and semen, "I just...I don't know.." I managed before the tears started again. "Shhhh," Chris reassured me, continuing to wipe my tears. "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, you weren't ready for all that, I was just fucking around and got carried away." I shook my head, "No, it's OK. And I won't say anything I promise." I decided to beat Chris to the punch. He picked up the box of sweet tarts and shook it into his hand. "Oh, I was wrong," he said sweetly, "there's still one left. He took the last sweet tart and placed it on the tip of his tongue arching his eyebrow at me. Calmed by how silly he looked laying there with his tongue sticking out (and emboldened and reckless from my hormones) I shifted toward Chris, opened my mouth, took the tip of his tongue into my mouth and allowed him to pass the candy from his mouth to mine. I swallowed it without chewing and just as I did, Chris rolled on top of me, thrusting his tongue in and out of my mouth. His heavy body rubbed against my little penis making it jump and throb with pleasure. Chris started licking my face, scooping up gobs of his cum with his tongue and then pushing his tongue into my mouth. Our lips were coated and sticky. His tongue, more like an eel than a human protuberance, swam across my face, into my mouth and even up my nostril, warm and wet, greedily collecting his emissions and feeding them to me like a mama bird. It was different from making out with David. David's kiss was timid and emotional, it was a question and an answer, a quiet conversation between two boys navigating desire, trust and love. With Chris, it was loud, it was dirty, it was primal and it was laden with the promise of regret. But I didn't care. I wanted his tongue all over my body and I wanted him to keep grinding against my little cock so I could figure out how that particular story ended. But alas, his kissing slowed and the grinding subsided and he rolled off of me, spent. "Shit man, now that's how to start a day," Chris looked at me and chuckled again, "sorry for ripping your underwear little man, I don't know my own strength sometimes." He winked at me and my heart raced. "Just leave 'em here and I'll toss' em in the woods somewhere," he offered, "no point in washing them now." He laughed again. "Suns coming up, you can slip into your buddy's shorts, just tell him you borrowed them...just don't want the other guys to see you slipping out of my tent early morning...that would...not be good," he said sternly, "for either of us." He added ominously. I could take a hint. "OK, OK I'm going," I said, returning to myself, "but we're...good, right?" I asked, "in terms of Rob and everything?" "Well, you did YOUR part," Chris said, "and did it...rather well," he added with another wink. "I'll do my best with Rob, but hey, as long as you don't see his underwear on the pole at first call, your buddy's got nothing to worry about." "Thanks, Chris," I stood up, my ripped briefs practically falling off of me. I quickly slipped on David's shorts and my pajamas. I wasn't sure what to say or how to act. There was an exhilaration about sneaking out of Chris's tent that made me feel adult and mature, but there was also an emptiness. As my cock began to deflate, I was free from Chris's spell. Regret swept over me. How could I have let any of this happen? Chris wasn't my friend. He was using me. And I knew it. "This will never happen again," I promised myself; a promise that was as empty as Chris's balls surely were at that moment. "OK, thanks," I said awkwardly, "um, see you later..." "No worries, little man," he said, flashing me his Colgate smile. "and if the little kids all sneak out to go swimming or whatever after hours tonight and you find yourself creeping outside my tent, do me a favor and just come in. No need to scare the fuck out of me. I could probably even straighten some stuff out for you." He winked again "Yeah, OK, maybe, we'll see," I mumbled, fiddling with the tent door. But I didn't want to see him tonight or any other time. All I wanted to do was be with David. David would make everything alright.