Just Between Friends Ovdoc@yahoo.com Sept. 2011

Chapter Three: Canadians On Parade

It was the following summer when Jack arrived with about

fifteen excited Canadian scouts to be our guests for two weeks. I was looking forward to this visit, and had spent a lot of time getting ready for them.

My scout troop had their own scout house in the middle of town. It was plenty big enough to house them,but had been cleared and set up to accomodate about one hundred guests for a home made dinner.

We met the scouts as they arrived with big fanfare, including the local press. A sign was draped across the front of the house saying “WELCOME”. After a formal introduction, their baggage was carried inside, then they were allowed to spruce up. Since it was late afternoon, we collected at the tables for dinner. It was a big spread. I had announced the exchange program to the town. Lots of families had sent over covered dishes. It was a first for local scouts, so we bragged about “Southern cooking and Southern hospitality”. That did it. Ask these people to show hospitality to guests and dinner becomes a matter of pride. Southern fried chicken abounded, along with potato salad and cole slaw. Lots of iced tea. Pies and cakes for dessert. No one was allowed to leave the table hungry.

Since the Canadian guests had traveled for more than twenty hours, we had also arranged host families for each boy. They would spend the first day with their hosts to rest up. Next, they would move into the scout house along with their host scout.

The meeting hall would become a huge bedroom for some thirty boys. Another room had been set up for the leaders. The Mens bathroom had been set up for shower stalls. The Ladies room would serve as the toilet. The meeting hall would have to be converted at meals to handle the crowd. It would also serve as a game room during the day. This meant assigning service crews each day we were there. The host scouts and their dads were happy to oblige.

Jack and I were program directors. We would need to remain at the scouthouse to arrange things, and prevent problems. I had businesses delivering milk, groceries, meals, pies, bread, even fresh donuts during the day. It was decided the senior scout from each troop should stay with us to show the public that youth leadership was important. Youth were to handle their own problems where possible. (That turned out to be a wise decision.)

My first problem between the two groups turned out to be both humorous and quickly solved. The scout in charge of our troop was usually referred to as the “Senior”. In their group, it was a “Queen Scout”, or just Queen. When Jack called for the Queen to come forward, there was a lot of giggles and snickers among my scouts. I wasn’t prepared for that, and quickly realized that a queen to my boys was a gay person. I announced that a Queen Scout in Canada Was equal to an Eagle Scout in our country. That reduced the giggling, but the Canadians seemed confused that I needed to explain that.

It got worse. Jack and I agreed the Canadian youth leader would be called “Number One”, the Canadian troop senior. I explained that my troop wasn’t the only scout troop locally that might be confused with Queen. Number one worked out better, but also got a few giggles. When I spoke to my senior scouts, I was told the term “number one” in school meant taking a leak in the school restroom. Number two meant taking a crap. I remembered that, but had hoped it had changed. Not so. I called on my scouts for some help to be polite to our guests. It was agreed The giggles would stop.

The next problem I should have seen coming, but I didn’t. Kevin had came along. Not only was he a little over affectionate with me (he hugged me as I welcomed his group instead of ahandshake.) It caused a few raised eyebrows, even from a few Canadians. Jack agreed to speak to him, but warned me that the group knew he was gay. It was after the host family visit that Kevin’s host let me know he shared his bed with Kevin. “It was a terrific night” was the way he explained it to me and his friends. Still, he wanted to keep Kevin at his home. The parents didn’t know. I had to let Jack know that this coud be a real problem if the news spread. Both of us asked the seniors help. Discretion was requested. I later found out that their Number one had spent a night with Kevin. (How many scouts knew about me and Kevin?) This was going to be a trip to be remembered. What would be regarded as personal in Canada could become a scandal here.

It gets worse. Jack’s Number one was a seventeen year old named Frank. On the way here, Frank slept with the youngest member of their group, a fourteen year old doll with brown hair and brown eyes named Donald. Donald was also the smallest in their group. And the feistiest. Frank found that out. Donald didn’t sleep with just anyone. There was a nasty fight. Donald got the worst of it. He had arrived with a black eye and a few scrapes. Jack had tried to hide the injuries, but Donald would have none of it. He was still angry with Frank. Jack was apologetic, and explained that Donald was not angry about the attempted sex. He just didn’t like Frank. I had to laugh that Donald showed a lot of spunk. Frank didn’t think it was funny. We agreed that Donald would travel with my troop, and answer to my senior as much as possible without announcing it to the other boys. Donald gladly agreed. Jack leaked it to him that I had defendedhis actions. Donald liked that, and we became friends.

It didn’t end there. Not by a long shot. Donald confided to me that he knew Jack had the “hots’ for him. Thats why Jack brought him along. But it wasn’t going to happen. Jack had defended Frank after Frank had beat him up. No way was Donald going to “fancy Jack”. I agreed that Jack had acted wrongly, but explained that Jack was in an awkward mess. Frank is his No. 1 youth leader. How would it look if he didn’t back him? Donald surprised me. He understood that, but he wasn’t fond of Jack either. Somehow, I knew that. Jack had used poor judgement. He wasn’t Donald’s type. They were to different. Donald was rebelious. Going by the rules was not his cupa tea. I explained that to Donald. He picked up on it. Sex had nothing to do with it. Donald just was not going with the program. He knew that Jack had slept with several boys in the group. Donald was friends with Kevin, and admitted he had slept with him. They had agreed on it. Donald was not gay, but saw no harm “in a bit of fun”. He had guessed that Kevin “fancies you”. He was all smiles when I answered that “Kevin has already fancied me”. Smart as a whip, he came back cheeky. “You Yanks like Canadian bacon, aaa!” That led to a brief friendly scuffle, and a warning from me that “Rebs don’t take kindly to being called Yanks.” I had to explain about Southern Rebels. I knew as soon as I explained it that Donald would now call me Yank when he wanted to tease me. I just somehow knew that. I also knew what my response would be: “Rebs eat Canadian bacon every night -AAA!”  

I didn’t have to wait long to wind up defending Donald again. I had lined up a tour bus to take the whole group on an historical guided tour of the area. The tour included Yorktown, Williamsburg, Jamestown, and the nation’s capitol.

At Yorktown, the guide showed the battlefields, and explained that Canadians had fought alongside the British. They lost. Washington’s army had driven them over the hills here, and forced their surrender. This drew a “BOO!” from the Canadians.

It was at this point the scouts realized they had become separated from the leaders. We were just over the hill, which was high enough that we couldn’t see the boys. They came up with an idea. They would pretend to be British soldiers and change history by swarming over the hill to attack the leaders (the Yanks). All of a sudden, we hear a battle yell coming from the top of the hill. They were on us in a hurry. Before I knew what hit me, I lay flat on my back. Kevin and Donald were sitting on my chest. The other leaders went down as well. The boys let out a victory yell.

Jack let out an order for the No. 1 to regain control and line up the Canadians. He really raked them over the coals, demanding an apology to “our hosts”. He was furious. Shocked at his reaction, I insisted the Senior line up my boys as well. The boys had messed up their uniforms during the charge. The grass was wet. Some had fell in the mud.

I was in stitches, laughing as my boys stood at attention alongside their Canadian friends while Jack steamed. The tour was over. Jack ordered the boys back on the bus. My efforts to cool him off were wasted. As the boys sat on the bus pretty much wondering what Jack was so steamed about, I tried a little psychology. Agreeing that this incident was to be dealt with severely, I agreed we would return to the scout house where the boys would be grounded for the day. Whatever punishment Jack gave his group would also apply to mine. My assistants looked at me in disbelief. One insisted we should talk. I remained stubbornly stern. Jack stared at me curiously. I was not one to be so stern.

“Doc? You were laughing. It was intended to be a joke. You are the one who should be offended by the conduct of my scouts.” Jack insisted.

“Nonsense!” I boomed. “Your scouts are my guests. My scouts should take the blame. It was probably their idea anyway. Canadians couldn’t come up with a stunt like that. It took intelligence and leadership. My scouts must realize that I am the one who must apologize to our guests. Your scouts shall continue the tour while mine shall remain on the bus. As host, the decision is mine to make - not yours.”

Jack just stared. I didn’t so much as crack a smile.

Finally, Jack whimpered “I guess I acted badly, AAA!”

“Suppose I brought my group to Canada, then told them to stay on the bus because they might have fun. How would you feel? What did your boys do that my boys didn’t go along with? Your boys don’t even know what they did wrong. My boys are waiting to hear my explanation for my conduct. This is my tour. Talk to me.” I paused for his reaction.

“We could freshen up at the center. My apology. It’s your tour.” Jack answered.

Thinking I had won, I told Frank and Jonas, my Senior, to explain to the boys that we would need to clean up before continuing. The two senior boy leaders would tell them a lot more than I intended. They had seen me confront Jack, and had heard him apologize. By the time Jack and I had cleaned up and returned to face the boys, I noticed a new air of respect, or maybe relief, from the group as a whole. Nothing was said. Just more smiles and open chat. I would discover later that Jack just dropped everything in my lap knowing that he would enjoy watching me squirm. Things were going to get interesting.

After the tour, we agreed to a quick dinner at a drive-in. The boys liked that. Then we headed back to the scout house where the boys could shower, and relax.

As I mentioned before, the Mens Room had been converted to a shower room. There was still an open toilet and urinal in the room, so it was still used, but I announced that we would need to shower, so everyone should get that done first. To my surprise, they undressed quickly. It had been a hot muggy day. This was a chance to cool off. The Mens Room was packed. This room normally handled maybe three or four at a time. There were a dozen boys in there, all nude. All rubbing togather, getting friendlier than ever, even making such comments as “You like?, Bend over, Feels nice, etc” The showers went fast.

More than one boy went back to his luggage with a hardon waving in front of his crotch. My scouts were amazingly cool with this. They weren’t used to such close contact. Normally, a hardon would be reason to cover up or at least hide it, but not this time around. Most everyone had one. There were all sizes and types. Most of the Canadians were uncut. Most of mine were cut. No one seemed to mind that the other boys were openly checking each other out. They were all guys. They were mostly in puberty. A few were shy. They still had fuzz instead of hair. A few looked bare yet. But this was a moment of truth; a chance to view other boys at different stages of growth without having to explain why you were looking.

The cots were set up so those who wanted could stretch out on them to relax. Most did so in briefs. So many bulges on so many beautiful bodies meant there were a lot of stiffs and semis. There were some thirty cots set up only a few feet apart. A dozen boys stretched comfortably in plain view. Both groups were now intermingled.

Jack had watched amused as I managed to get a few “innocent photos of unsuspecting youth at their finest.” He had set up a cam overlooking the room and the cots. We would view the results at a later time when we could enjoy.

As the crowd grew smaller in the showers, Jack and I stripped at our cots and headed to get a shower. I was not surprised to find Kevin waiting nude for me. I was surprised to find Donald waiting also. As I suspected, his body was fantastic. He was short for his age. His stomach and chest were well developed. He was definitely all boy. His shaft was about four inches semi. And he was showing a brown fuzz around the base. Not a lot, but enough that he was proud to show it off. He knew it would get much bigger. His chest was husky. His buns were beefy and tight. There was nothing sissy about Donald. Even at fourteen, he was doing Kevin, who was taller, but thin, and about two years older. He ignored Jacks stare, and greeted me. I’m sure Kevin had filled him in on my desires. A couple of other boys were still finishing up, so we tried to keep our attention on showering. I couldn’t keep from getting a hardon. Donald looked. Kevin sneaked in a few touches. I took a quick shower, backing away when Kevin got close, but allowing Donald to get a good look. That would have to do for now (although I quickly slipped into the Ladies Room to shoot off a huge load before going back into the hall).

The tour continued the next day with two changes. The first was that I asked the Canadians to remain in their farmal attire to please Jack. They readily agreed. I hated doing that. It was really hot, and their uniform was for cooler climates. The second change was that we had a news photographer traveling with us. He wanted some photos to do a news story on the exchange deal.

Although jack was still in a sulky mood, things were going well....too well.

That changed abruptly. The photographer had stopped the tour just long enough to get a photo of me and Jack kneeling in front of the scouts. Hr had lined them in two rows bunched up behind us. Just as he snapped the shot, I felt a sharp jab in my right bun. I jumped straight up letting out a yell. Donald stood directly behind me with a wide grin on his face, and a pin in one hand. Half the group was rolling in laughter. The other half wondered what the problem was. Jack didn’t say a word. He just nodded a knowing smile. The photographer had seen it coming. He got it on film. As I openly rubbed the painful spot in my rear, Frank grabbed Donald. I moved quickly to stop Frank from further action, asking him to take care of the group. I warned Donald we would discuss the matter later, winking. Jack gave me that wicked smile that says “Do we have a problem?”

I had all but forgotten the incident until the next morning. A sixteen year old Canadian scout called Ski woke up on his cot with his briefs missing. He had his usual morning problem - a hardon. A dozen boys were admiring it when he woke up. Ski had the biggest dick of them all. It must have been a good eight inches long, and big. He had not boasted, he wasn’t shy either. Still, somebody had been busy last night. And Ski was a sound sleeper. He was mostly embarrassed. He looked first at Kevin. Kevin denied he had taken Ski’s underwear. (He didn’t deny sucking him off. He didn’t admit it either.) The briefs wound up on the cot. Donald was seen at Ski’s cot early that night. Surprisingly, Ski decided to drop the issue. Smiling, he thanked Donald, and headed to the urinal. The Canadians laughed it off. My scouts were shocked that it was over. Somebody had sucked off the biggest dick in the building last night, and that was it?

This time Jack apologized again. I laughed, saying I wish I had seen that. Somebody got a mouth full. I didn’t think Donald could handle that much. I knew Kevin could. I would later find out Donald took the underwear off. Kevin took care of the rest. Ski knew that. It wasn’t the first time Kevin had proved he could handle Ski. The other Canadian boys knew that. They just didn’t agree with the time and the place. Donald had failed to show proper discretion, but they were getting used to that.

I guess I had proved to Jack that I could handle “touchy moments” with proper concern. Nobody had been beaten up, nor had discipline gone to hell. Frank had done a good job of maintaining order in his group. Jack still had the respect of his group. Donald was not being picked on or put down. In fact, a few of the Canadians were befriending him. He was starting to respond to my attempts to talk about his anger rather than criticizing him.

The Canadians joined us the following week at summer camp. The Canadians were the most popular attraction in camp that week. Jack was himself again. We shared a camp site. The scouts chose their own tent mates. Jack shared a tent with Frank. Kevin shared a tent with Ski. More than one boy made a new friend. More than one found out about life.

It was that week in camp when Donald and I became good friends. He had agreed to be tent-mates knowing what I wanted. We didn’t discuss it other than to say we wanted this week to be fun. Most of the other boys had made the same agreement. What happens at summer camp becomes a memory that stays with friends long after they have gone their own way.

After we had settled into our tent, Donald and I were pretty much at ease with each other. Late that first night, I climbed in bed with him. He giggled, knowing that this was the first time I was going further than tickling or touching. I had already removed my clothes, and the hardon pressing against his side was looking to play. He had already slipped out of his briefs as he slid under the sheet. We spent a few minutes getting familiar with each other. I flipped around so I could take his four inch shaft into a warm mouth. He paused, moaned as the pleasure overtook him, then returned the favor. I knew I was not his first. He knew how to suck a dick, although I may have been the first leader he had tried to handle. I think I brought him off first. It was a small load, but I loved it. A few minutes later he had made up his mind to take my load. I warned him, but he chose to hold on as I blew several shots in his mouth and throat.

After taking a break, I rolled him over on his side, opened him up with two greased fingers, then genty claimed him. Whether I was the first, I don’t really know. I do know I was the first to take him willingly. He admitted he had decided if I wanted him, he wold let it happen. After I was totally in, Donald started to enjoy our bonding. Long before I blasted off, he was moving about pushing back against me for more. I had found that spot that makes it fun to be as one. We stayed as one for a long time before I could not hold out any longer. I blasted my second load for him deep inside his butt. Even then, I paused until my hot dog was too limp to hold on any longer. It pretty much just fell out. We didn’t do a lot of kissing. Donald was not into that. When I tried to kiss him on the lips, he turned away. Some boys don’t want that. Donald was in this for fun, not for love. He accepted the hugs, and liked it when I sucked on his ear lobes, but mad passionate feminine love was out. It was also more than all right to kiss on his nipples and his body. He just didn’t see the need to suck on his tongue. He had something else you could suck on.

I also rolled over and let Donald enjoy getting a little. It was important to him. He wasn’t satisfied being the girl. We were equals, enjoying each other more as male friends - not male and female. By the end of the week, I had explained to him that he would probably become a bisexual, and that that was fine. He could also become a top, but Donald preferred to think he was going to make babies. Nothing wrong with that, I told him, explaining that us fags couldn’t do much if somebody didn’t make the gorgeous bodies we fell in love with.

When the time was up, Donald and I slipped off alone for a few minutes to say our goodbyes. I knew he would not want to do that in front of the others. We included Kevin since he had helped bring us together. Oddly enough, the other boys from Canada knew that Donald had chose to sleep with me to have fun. How we defined fun was not important. We had not made an unseemly display in front of others. No sissy stuff. Just two friends who enjoyed being together. For him, the week was now history. For me, another lost love. Another heartbreak. But a terrific memory.

There was a formal parting, I think. I don’t remember much of it. Jack was once again in charge of his wards. There were tears, but we tried to hide them. I do remember Donald shook hands with me and the others. He promised to go easy on “those other Canuks”. I doubt he kept that promise. I knew the handshake was final. Although the exchange program would continue, Jack and I lost touch with Donald.

Wanna bet he found out more about making babies?