Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an150032@anon.penet.fi (....Mercury....)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an150032@anon.penet.fi
Date: Tue,  4 Jul 1995 19:21:59 UTC
Subject: Boy Scout Camp Trip (m/M)

o
o        Oh Wise Master, I wonder who rules Alt.Sex.Stories ?
o        Why that is easy, young Grasshopper.  It is...
o
o                 ...  M  e  r  c  u  r  y  ...
o
o        For listen to the Wind.  Does it not whisper in your ear, 
o        "Mercury rulez A.S.S.!"  And listen to the babbling brook.
o        Does it not babble, "Mercury has the biggest dick of all!"
o        You see, Grasshopper.  All of Nature is in harmony with
o        Mercury, for he is one with the Universe!
o
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
o
o    Heterosexuality, recovery from, opinion poll
o    
o    Is it ever possible for a heterosexual to truly recover?  I've tried
o    everything... Would value any opinions.  On a scale from 1 to 10 I don't
o    know exactly where I would fall, but you can judge for yourselves: I'm a
o    plumber, I have four kids, a house in the suburbs, a Chevy Nova, a high
o    school education (plus a year of junior college), terrible taste, a big,
o    broad ass, and my wife makes Hamburger Helper on Thursday Nights.  A
o    cliche, I know -- but it's MY life!  Any opinions (of a polite nature)
o    would be gratefully received.  };^>
o
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
o
o      Notes :
o
o   1.  I did not write this story and do not know who did.
o   2.  If you're a biW/A m/f 18-24 looking for friends, write.
o
                           Boy Scouts

     I was twelve years old when I went on my first camping trip. I'd
been  a member of my boy scout troop for a few  months,  and everyone else
in the troop was experienced in camping.  We loaded our packs on a Friday
evening,  following the instructions of our leader  Mr. Butler.   He  was
a tall,  barrel chested  man  with reddish brown hair and a thick
mustache.  His son Tim was also in the troop and even at the age of
thirteen it was obvious that Tim would grow up to be a bear of a man
himself.

     We drove in the van for several hours,  to the mountains  in
Colorado,  and hiked narrow trails for several more hours.   When we
reached  the campsite Mr.  Butler supervised setting up the tents and
digging the latrine.   But the troop quickly broke up into two-man teams
to share tents,  and since I was the youngest and newest man in the troop
nobody chose me.   I was feeling hurt and homesick, but Mr. Butler took me
by the shoulder.

     "Hey, sport, you can be my tent mate for this trip. Whaddaya say?"

     "Okay,"  I agreed.   I didn't know what else to do.   I felt honored
that the scoutmaster would let me share his tent when the other  boys
didn't want me.   We cooked dinner in our mess  kits, and  cleaned up
afterward.   Sitting around  the  campfire  and telling stories about
snark hunts and fishing trips made me feel like one of the crowd.
Finally Mr. Butler stood up.

     "Okay men, you do what you want for the next hour, then it's lights
out.  Understand?"

     "Yes sir," we all echoed.

     "I'll  be in my tent if you need me," he said,  then  turned toward
his tent.

     Everyone  except me seemed to know what to do next.   We all crowded
around Byron (we called him Barney),  and he climbed into his  tent and
reemerged with two Playboy  magazines.   Under  the yellow  glow of a
flashlight,  we looked at the nude  women  and talked of things we knew
nothing about.  Tim Butler was the first to start teasing me.

     "Mike's never seen anything like that,  have you Mikey?"  He pointed
to  the  woman's breasts and laughed.   "He  don't  know nothing about
women."

     "I've seen breasts before," I defended.   It was true.   I'd grown
up with three older sisters and my mom.   Breasts were  no mystery to me.

     "They're tits,  not breasts," Tim said.   "And you're lying. I'll bet
you don't know anything about girls."

     "Knock it off Tim," Barney said.   "Leave Mike alone.   He's part of
the troop.  He's one of us."

     "No  he's not," Tim said.   "He's got to sleep with  my  dad tonight
'cause he needs someone to take care of him.   He  wants his mommy."

     "I don't need anyone to take care of me," I shouted.  "I can take
care of myself."  I certainly didn't want my mom;  I'd lived with women
all my life.   But my father had died when I  was  a baby, so being around
other men was new and exciting.

     We  spent  the rest of the hour doing silly things with  the Playboy
magazines.    Kissing  the  pictures  and  rubbing   our crotches, and
finally Mr.  Butler said "lights out" and we broke for our tents.

     When  I climbed into our tent Mr.  Butler was already in his sleeping
bag.   He told me to put my clothes at the head of  the tent,  and I self-
consciously undressed down to my underwear  and climbed into my sleeping
bag.

     "Mike,"  he said.   "Sometimes it gets real cold up here  at night.
If you're too cold, you just move over here next to me, all right?"

     "Okay," I agreed.

     "Been  on lots of camping trips," he continued,  "and never had a
scout freeze to death yet.  Good night, son."

     "Good night sir."

     I  lay  awake  for nearly an hour,  listening to  the  heavy
breathing  of  the scoutmaster.   I was excited  still  from  the Playboy
magazines,  and didn't feel like  sleeping.   Especially since  I  knew
the other guys were looking at magazines in  their tents,  using
flashlights under their sleeping  bags.   I  could smell  the  hearty body
odor of Mr.  Butler,  the aroma of a  big mountain man who'd hiked ten
miles.   The more I lay next to him, the more excited I got.  I wanted to
touch him, to feel his body.

     Slowly  I moved the zipper of my bag down.   I stopped  each time it
made the slightest noise, and finally I got it down to my feet.   I
reached out and felt the side of Mr.  Butler's sleeping bag.   It wasn't
zipped up - he was too big to sleep in a  zipped bag.   I quietly moved,
first one leg - then the other,  until I was out of my sleeping bag and
lying next to the scoutmaster.   I could feel the heat coming off his
body, and as I pressed against him I could feel his moist skin, rough and
hairy, against my thin body.

     I was laying on my side,  he lay on his back.   I could feel his
chest heave with each breath.   Then he rolled toward me, and wrapped his
massive  arm around my body.   He pulled  me  tight against  his hairy
chest,  like a man hugging a  teddy  bear  to himself.   My face  was
buried in mid-chest,  and the  wonderful smell of his hairy body was
giving me a hard-on.   I was glad  he was still sleeping, because
otherwise he'd feel my small,  stiff cock prodding his tight belly.  I
reached down toward his crotch, knowing that I shouldn't do this but
unable to stop.

     Mr. Butler wore old jockey shorts, so the elastic around his thighs
had  given out.   There were gaps around  his  legs,  and through one of
these gaps his huge,  soft cock was hanging  out. My  small hands wrapped
around his cock,  and I couldn't  believe that  any guy had a cock this
size.   My own cock hadn't grown to full size yet, and I never saw another
man nude, so I had no way of  knowing that big cocks aren't that uncommon.
I was  amazed. It felt so hot and soft in my hand,  that I kept
manipulating  it from  one  hand  to the other.   I could feel  his  cock
getting harder,  and  I wondered if he was now awake.   But his breathing
was still heavy and steady, so I decided he was sleeping.

     With strength and caution I pressed away from  Mr.  Butler's chest.
I  moved my head down toward his crotch.   Everywhere  I moved  next to
his body was a pleasure of smells.   It was all so different, from his arm
pits,  to his chest,  to the hair around his  cock. Each smelled different
and wonderful.   I rubbed  my cheek  against the smooth skin of his now-
hard  cock.   I  wasn't sure what I wanted to do next, but I knew that it
smelled so good I  wanted  to taste it.   I licked the shaft,  moving
toward  the cockhead.  I started licking the cockhead, unable to stop
myself. Finally,  on instinct, I opened my mouth and moved forward  onto
his  cock.   I sucked tight on his massive rod,  moving it deeper into my
mouth.   Mr.  Butler started to moan, moving slightly and pushing his hips
forward.   He lifted one leg and placed it  over me,  so  he now was
laying almost on top of me.   I still had his beautiful rod in my mouth,
and I felt his hands on either side of my  head.   He held my head firm,
and started slowly but  firmly thrusting into my mouth.  I could feel the
weight of this massive man on top of me, but I was enjoying the feeling so
much that the weight made no difference.  I wasn't sure what would happen
next, but I was enjoying every moment.

     The  scoutmaster  started  thrusting  his  cock  faster  and faster,
pulling out almost to the point where it fell out of  my mouth,  then
pushing  back  in  until  I  nearly  gagged.   His breathing got faster,
and louder,  but he made little noise.  At last he made a short grunting
noise,  and a sound like a whimper, and I felt my mouth fill with a thick
fluid.   I didn't even know what cum was, but I knew he wasn't peeing in
my mouth.  It tasted too  good for that. I swallowed as fast as I could to
keep from overflowing  in the sleeping bag.   His hips slowed to  a
barely moving  motion,  and his grunting stopped.   He let loose of  my
head,  and after about five minutes his breathing resumed,  heavy and
regular.   Slowly I moved back and let his  still-hard  cock slide  out of
my mouth.   I managed to turn over on my side,  but was so excited still
that I didn't sleep much that night.   But I still  remember feeling his
hot damp chest against my  back,  his hard wet cock against the back of my
thighs, his large hand on my belly,  and  I can almost feel his regular
deep breathing on  the top of my head.   If Mr.  Butler knew what
happened, he never let on to me or anyone else.

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