Date: Thu, 17 May 2012 18:49:23 +0100 (BST)
From: Nick Paston <nic27552@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Gary in the tent

Gary in the Tent, a true story...

Those who have read my earlier writing on my sexual awakening at the age of
14 will be familiar with my writing style. I tell the truth, and nothing
but the truth about various events in my youth. Events that have lived with
me for many years. I decided to put them down for others enjoyment. I hope
that this episode give some pleasure to new readers.

After my explosive introduction to oral sex at 14, in the capable hands
(and lips) of my younger friend Robin, and later that black guy in his 20's
who looked after the local park, things went very quiet on the direct
contact front. I still had my memories, and became a regular masturbator,
reliving those exquisite events of the summer. I was sad to lose Robin, who
I was getting very fond of, even loved a little. It may have been my first
real love affair, but it ended too soon.

But masturbation, although great fun (and remember those days when you
could come, and fifteen minutes later come again just as pleasurably? -- Oh
youth, its wasted on the young!)

Anyway, I drifted through the summer after that. I was getting on OK at
school,but the long summer break seemed interminable. With no Robin, and
more importantly, no Robin's cock, football and Cub Scouts held little
attraction now. My other mates noticed the change in me, and drifted
away. I didn't really care that much, so when, at the end of the summer
holidays in September, I was offered the chance to go away with the Scouts
on a weeks camping, I only agreed because it would get me away from the
sidelong glances of my parents, who were scarily close to working out what
me and Robin had been getting up to before his abrupt departure.

We all joined a half full coach of other scouts at the bottom of my road,
and set off on a 3 hour drive to Norfolk, one of England's least urban
counties. Back in those days it was even more isolated, and as we finally
pulled into the camp ground in a place called Old Costessy, I looked out of
the window gloomily at the vast expanse of grass, and the few large tents
already pitched. I wasn't really interested in wood craft or knots any
more, so this was going to be a long week.

But Scout camps are designed to physically exhaust you by lights out, with
climbing, river swimming and camp-fire sing songs, so by the time I tumbled
into my sleeping bag, I had barely registered the other occupants of my
tent.

There were two of them. One was an older Scout, about 16, with the
beginnings of fuzz on his upper lip and the sullen look of a born bully. I
was right of course, as events would prove. The other kid was already
asleep, or so I thought, all that was visible above the zipped up bag was a
shock of black curly hair. The older kid gave me a contemptuous look as he
squeezed between me and the other kid. His sleeping bag was at the far side
of the tent, in the best spot. He sneered at me nastily

"Keep your fucking fingers off my stuff, and keep out of my way, and you'll
go home in one piece" He grinned without humour, revealing yellow teeth
that would make my dentist give up and take up embroidery. I nodded without
answering, and he undressed and got into his bag, not before giving the
other sleeping bag a kick as he did so. A small squeak came from the black
haired occupant, but otherwise there was no response.

Getting into my sleeping bag and zipping it up I gazed disconsolately at
the canvas above me, wishing I had said no to this trip.

The following day went much as the first. Showers in the cement shower
block across the field, line ups for beans and sausages, cooked by red
faced older scouts or scoutmasters. Wash the plates and cutlery in the
river before being assigned to various tasks. Building an aerial runway,
carving wooden cutlery stands from twigs, feeding the chickens in the
adjoining field so that we could collect eggs the following day, and stuff
like that. It was mildly interesting, so I began to perk up a bit. I kept
well clear of our tent companion, whose name, inevitably, was Butch, and
only at the 5pm cook tent roll call, identified the other kid. He was
actually a bit older than me when dressed and upright. Probably 15 going on
16, tall and skinny, with a hooked nose and the same shock of unruly hair I
had seen peeking over the sleeping bag. His name was Gary, I discovered.

We talked without saying much while we queued, and I found out he had been
bullied into coming by his mother, before being comprehensively bullied all
the way here by our friend Butch.  So we became friends almost by default,
mostly in joint dislike of our nasty companion.

That night, Butch excelled himself. Farting, belching, flicking snot balls
at us casually violent to any perceived misdemeanour's. The full panoply of
antisocial behaviour. I exchanged looks with Gary, but there really wasn't
much either of us could do about it. Physically, I have always been quite
muscular, but the difference between 14 and 16 can be immense and I knew
that I wouldn't last a second in face to face combat with this oversized
oaf. Gary was weedier than me, so even between us, I think we would still
have come off second best. So we endured, that night and the next, in
sullen silence.

The third night, just when I thought I couldn't stand it any longer,
salvation came via our Scoutmaster 'Skip'. As we sat in the tent, just
before lights out, dreading another evening of our own personal Shrek's
foul activities, Skips fat bald head invaded the flapped entrance.

"Butch" he said shortly "Pack up your stuff lad"

Butch looked at him with the puzzled expression of a Neanderthal given a
Rubik's cube.

"Err, what's up Skip?" he rumbled

"Chop, chop, Butch. Your parents are here to collect you. Something about a
Gas meter?"

Butch reddened, and hung his bovine head. Now, the fact that he always had
ample change for sweets and cola made` more sense. Our Butch had departed
the family home with a little more than the normal Scout clutter. The coin
contents of his parents Gas meter had also travelled to Norfolk.

We tried to hide our grins as he quickly packed up and sidled out of the
entrance. When he'd gone, I opened the back flap too, so that the residual
odour of sweat and flatulence left with him.

"You two boys be alright tonight without an older Scout to mind you?" Skip
said, wheezily

We both nodded furiously. Too right!

The flap descended, and we looked at each other, bursting into laughter at
our narrow escape from fart hell....

I moved my sleeping bag a foot further from the entrance, and Gary did the
same, so that they laid side by side, about a foot apart, Out came the
rhubarb and custard boiled sweets and a luke warm bottle of American Cream
Soda (don't laugh, that was considered exotic in those far off days) and we
toasted the departure of smelly Butch happily until told to put out the
storm lamp and "Get some bloody sleep" by the troop leader in the next
tent. Silence descended.

The next couple of days were pretty good fun actually. Gary and I were
officially 'mates' now and talked nineteen to the dozen whilst carrying out
the tasks set us by troop leaders and Scoutmaster. Even the Ging Gang Gooly
sing songs at the end of the day, accompanied by half cooked and singed
potatoes, seemed tolerable now.

It was on the last but one day that it happened. I actually feel a little
guilty now, looking back, because I think Gary was an entirely innocent
recipient of my attentions, and maybe wasn't looking for that sort of
attention. But it had been 5 days since I had masturbated, and my balls
were just about at bursting point. It started with us discussing the
various females we had seen on the beach in Great Yarmouth that day. We had
all been bussed to the seaside resort for a jolly day out. Our pocket money
had been doled out to us, and we had spent most of it on tacky souvenirs
and ice creams, as boys will. But the afternoon was spent on the beach, and
even in those more modest times, the sight of semi naked females set the
hormones racing.

So as we laid in the tent, the lamp dimmed as low as possible, we chatted
comfortably about the girls,and inevitably, I felt the rise of my ever
responsive organ. I saw Gary's eyes run over the impossible to ignore tent
in my under shorts, and the devil came and took me, as they say.  The talk
got a little more salacious, and I began to probe him about his own sexual
experiences. Which got me absolutely nowhere, because he hadn't had any.

I could see however,that the conversation had excited him, judging by the
tent in his own briefs. I decided to chance my arm.

Sliding closer, I asked him if he masturbated. His nervous giggle gave him
away. Of course he did.

"Wanna do it together?" I said brazenly

But he shook his head immediately. I don't think it had ever crossed his
mind before.

"Come on" I said "I used to do it all the time with my friend at home"
Which was a flat out lie, but who was going to contradict me?

He shook his head again, biting his bottom lip.

I was too far committed now, so taking a deep breath, I slid my had over
his hip, and closed my fist over his erection. He jumped like a scalded
cat, almost dislodging my fingers, but not quite.

I kept my hand on him. His eyes were fixed on it, dilated, fearful. But he
didn't push me away. That was all the encouragement I needed. I squeezed
gently, and the air rushed out of his lungs as if he had been holding his
breath for minutes. His cock was a lot smaller than mine, I filed away that
information. Thinner and slightly shorter, a bit like my dick had been a
year or so earlier. But he was hard, really hard. I squeezed again, this
time moving my fist up and down a little. I heard the breath hiss through
his teeth as I began to pump him slowly.

I knew I had won when his head went back and his eyes closed. Now he was
flat on his back.

Leaning upon my elbow, I slid the waistband of his briefs over his
erection. Now for the tricky bit. I needed him to lift his hips to get them
right off. I knew he was still very unsure of what was going to happen to
him, but teenage hormones are hard to fight. As I bunched up the blue
material in my hand, his hips rose just enough for me to slide the
underpants off him. I grinned to myself. This was going OK, I thought.

Having released his dick to get him naked, I now saw that it was indeed
thinner than mine, but purple hard, uncut and pulsing slightly, almost
laying on his flat belly. It looked good enough to eat. I wasn't sure if I
would get him to let me do that, so started by slipping my fingers over it
again. Teasing his skin by trailing my fingertips over the stretched
skin. He groaned then, and one of his arms went up until he had it crooked
over his eyes. His mouth was open and his breathing fast.

I gripped him harder, until his hips jerked slightly. Then I began to
stroke him steadily. I saw a drop of pre cum form on the almost hidden tip
of his cock and longed to suck it off, but knew I would have to be gentle
with him. This was no Robin, with wakened and strong sexual desires. This
kid was a virgin in all senses of the word.

But my stroking was having a powerful effect on his libido. He was
muttering a little now, although I couldn't make out what he was saying
under his breath. My stroking got longer, and I rubbed my fingers over his
secretions, making his small cock slippery to touch. My mouth watered with
anticipation.

But first I wanted some reciprocal action. My own cock was so hard it was
painful, so, slipping off my shorts I released his cock, which made him
open his eyes wide, and took his left hand and placed it around my
erection. His hand jerked back as if scalded, and I had to repeat the
action three times before I could be sure he wouldn't retreat
again. Finally he held me. He didn't squeeze or stroke me, but at least his
cool hand was holding on.

Slipping my hand back onto his slim cock, I resumed stroking slowly, trying
to maximise the pleasure. In the position I was in, I couldn't use my other
hand to cup his balls, and really, all I wanted anyway was to suck him, but
it was a bit like trying to saddle a young horse, easy does it works every
time. So, I worked him as best as I could, watching his face as I did. His
arm was still crooked over his eyes, but his mouth was open, breath coming
in fast gasps, and he wasn't making any attempt now to either remove my
hand from him, or vice versa.

Finally, the temptation grew too strong and I stopped stroking him long
enough to whisper softly "You wanna feel something even better?"

His head shook vigorously "NO!", but when I leaned over him and, forefinger
and thumb circling the base of his skinny cock, licked the swollen head
round the tip, he stopped saying no. In fact he stopped resisting
anything. His thighs parted and he let out a sigh of what I took as
resignation Sensation must have taken over from reluctance. I had no
problem crawling round him until I was between his knees. Obviously, the
movement meant I couldn't have his hand on my cock as well, but I really
wanted to suck this kid, so I suppressed my own need for the greater goal.

He lay before me, supine and submissive now. His thin cock swayed slightly
as it throbbed . I noticed for the first time that he had a small clump of
black hair above his cock, much more pubic hair than either Robin or I
had. But the effect wasn't to make Gary look older, rather the opposite. He
looked what he was, a skinny adolescent.

I leaned forward again, this time slowly engulfing his whole cock in my
mouth. This was something I had been unable to do with either Robin or
Benjamin. Small size has some advantages then...

I sucked gently, using my circled thumb and first finger to pull up and
down on his shaft. His hips began to lift with every down stroke, trying to
make me suck deeper. That wasn't even possible, as on every down stroke my
nose pushed against his belly and my lips touched at the base of his
shaft. Up and down, Suck on the upstroke, lick the swollen head at the top
of the cycle, then swoop lower, sucking even harder. He groaned this time,
and his hands scrabbled to grip my over-long hair. I felt myself assume a
familiar posture. On my knees, with an adolescent cock in my mouth, and two
hands pushing my head up and down.

He lasted quite a long time for a virgin. I guess I was sucking him for
about 5 minutes, which is a long time when you're young. But finally, the
combination of wet, hot suction and my fisting his cock brought the
inevitable conclusion. I suppose the fact that I took that moment to
squeeze his balls may have helped!

He moaned "Nick, I'm going to..." And I knew exactly what that meant. And
so he did. Not copiously like Benjamin, not in half a dozen decent squirts
like Robin, but rather in one brief rush of warm liquid. One second I was
sucking hot cock, next there was competition in my mouth with a few cc's of
thin, warm liquid. He only jerked twice, and I had enough time to register
surprise that I wasn't overflowing with cum, as in previous fellatio
attempts. I swallowed comfortably, it tasted a little bleach and wheat
flavoured as usual, but the lack of volume made it not at all unpleasant. I
took my time finishing with him. Only stopping when his hands ceased urging
me on and instead began to push me off him. I guess he had become very
sensitive by then.

I crawled back onto my sleeping bag beside him and looked curiously at
him. He still had that arm across his eyes, but his mouth was now closed. I
don't know what I expected, thanks, anger, tears, I don't know. What I got
instead was Gary silently rolling away from me and adopting a foetal
position. After a few seconds, I heard him crying quietly. I felt like
shit.

The next day, when I woke up, he was gone. I found out later that he had
asked the Scoutmaster if he could sleep in the overflow hut for the last
night. I also know that he never said a word about what I had done. I was
relieved in one way, but puzzled in another. I mean, I had sucked the kid
off... what was wrong with that?

Now I know that I was assuming lots of things in those days that I have
since found out do not always apply. Gary's physical response to my
seduction was one thing, his mental response was quite another. If I had
been older than him you could have called it sexual assault. And that still
troubles me today. I hope he went on to have a happy sex life, I would hate
to think my boyish attempts to convert him changed his life...

Anyway, you can be the judge of that. I am writing my next episode in the
true life series now. Its called 'Peter on the Couch'. You can be sure that
this time, my partner in fellatio is a very willing participant and the
owner of the biggest cock I ever sucked !

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