Date: Fri, 30 Nov 2012 20:19:06 -0800 (PST)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: ON MY HONOR 7

This story is about sexual activity between boy scouts and a scoutmaster.
It is total fiction.  There is no Poconola, MS.  Any resemblance between
persons or events depicted and actual persons or events is purely
coincidental.

If you are offended by depictions of explicit homosexual activity, or if
you are underage, please do not read further.  Otherwise, the author
invites you to enjoy the story and to respond with comments or criticisms.
The author would especially appreciate responses from readers who have been
involved in scouting.  All email will be answered.  Please address
macoutmann@yahoo.com.

Also, please remember that nifty.org needs your support to keep this
service available to all.  Please donate what you can.


			     "ON MY HONOR..."

			      by Macout Mann


				 Chapter 7

				 Aftermath



"Well!" a snide Mrs. Masters chided after they left the courthouse, "I hope
you've learned your lesson.  You're damned lucky those boys were willing to
lie for you."

"Yes," Masters contritely replied, "I've learned my lesson," while saying
to himself, "And next time I've got to be more careful."



Actually, Masters had a bitterer lesson in the offing.  The Winnona Council
stripped him of his affiliation with the scouting movement.  He was told
its action was because of his violation of the merit counselor rule.  The
council was very sorry, and he should not feel that its action reflected on
him in any way, but it felt that the rules must now be enforced to the
letter.

Manly, however, was now a junior assistant scoutmaster.  He would soon be
eighteen and could be promoted to assistant.  He could continue to recruit
suitable boys.  The two of them continued to meet in the park.  The brisk
September breeze added to Manly's excitement as he bared his ass to receive
Masters' hungry dick.  He relished the feel of the older man's tongue
lapping his anus, then his probing fingers, and finally the thrusts of his
man-meat.

They also plotted how they might maintain Masters' community of boy sex
objects without drawing suspicion.  They finally decided that the best
course was to be quiet but open about it.  Masters' interest in young men
was well accepted; and since there had been no public issue raised when he
was expelled from the scouts, there was no reason for people not to think
that he had retired to let younger leaders have their turn, while
continuing his interest in helping boys.

As it happened the plot was advanced, when Masters was approached by a
farmer interested in selling a sharecropper shack not far from the edge of
town.  It was set a-ways off the road, surrounded by trees and underbrush,
and it contained two large rooms, a small bath, and a kitchen.  Masters
said that he might be interested in the property himself.  He needed a
place to store old records and stuff.  A price was negotiated, and Masters
quietly took possession.

Manly reassembled the group, minus both Michael and Barry.  Michael said he
was quitting scouts and was into gals now.  Actually, he and Sammy did get
together from time to time, but the young Cajun thought the whole Masters
thing was weird.  Mr. Latimer worked for a discount chain, was being
promoted and transferred, so Barry was moving.  As for Sammy, he remained
in the group, but like Michael, he had realized he was bi, if anything, and
had found some girls at school that could satisfy him, except that they
didn't give good head.

The group first met at the shack in early October.  For Masters it was like
old times.



Noah and his family continued to be the town pariahs.  Even Sammy treated
Noah like shit.  Noah went to scout meetings a couple of times.  They
didn't throw him out, but even the new scoutmaster made him feel unwelcome.
No one would sit next to him at school.  Mrs. Lincoln was no longer called
upon to assist in community endeavors.  Few of his associates at NASA lived
in Poconola or cared about the trial, so Lincoln was not bothered at work;
but in Poconola even when he dropped clothes off at the cleaners, it was
apparent that they'd rather not have his business.

In time Noah did admit to his father that he had protected the other boys
and that they had all fully participated in Masters' games.  Noah hadn't
expected them to come forward, but he was hurt that they had testified
against him and lied on the witness stand.

"Son, I'm sorry you didn't tell me," Dick Lincoln said.  "I hope you've
learned it's always best to tell the whole truth.  If we'd known it might
have made a difference, but around here, I doubt it."

Noah's admission, however, caused Lincoln to pledge to himself that he
would have Masters' ass, whatever it took.  It was to become an obsession.
He and his wife also concluded that it was a losing proposition to remain
in Poconola.  They would seek a more compatible place to live for Noah's
sake.



Manly tried to get Masters to let Jake's brothers join the group.  Masters
still insisted, however, that only scouts could join.  That didn't stop
Manly from heading to the Reynolds Farm and taking on the whole band of
brothers.  Also Jake became the star of the show, when Masters' group met
at the shack.  He had an insatiable appetite for dick and an apparently
unlimited supply of cum.  "Let me!" became his mantra.

One night, as Masters watched, all the others first sucked Jake and then
left a load of cum in the youngster's well used ass.  Then Masters
laughingly asked, "Are you up to taking `sloppy fifths?'"

"Fuck yes!" Jake answered.

"I love to wash my hard dick in boy cum," Masters said.  He slipped his
thick tool into Jake without so much as spitting on it.  "How good does
that feel?" he asked.

"Wonderful," the boy panted.  "Fuck me hard, Duane."

"I will before I'm finished, but I want it to last."

The other three boys were entranced, watching Master's face as the man
relished every plunge in and out of Jake's ass.  It was over ten minutes
later that he began his final attack on the willing object of his desire.
He pounded the boy's anus unmercifully as Jack responded with "Yes, yes,
yes," to Masters' "fuck, fuck, fuck."  After the older man dropped his
load, they both rolled over on the floor completely sated.  It was a wonder
that Jake could even walk.  And Masters?  He had become much more
uninhibited, even wanton, since being dismissed as scoutmaster.



One evening after leaving work, Dick Lincoln drove to Gulfport to consult
with a realtor about finding someplace other than Poconola to live.  It was
after dark before he left Gulfport, and as he was leaving, he spotted a kid
standing at a street corner who looked familiar.  He stopped the car and
asked, "Hi son, don't you live in Poconola?"

"Yes...sir," the boy hesitantly answered.

"Well, I'm headed up that way.  Can I give you a lift?"

"No sir, I'm not ready to go home yet."  He hesitated again and added,
"Maybe I could give you some help.  I really need to make some money."  His
hand lightly scraped his groin.

Suddenly, everything clicked.  The boy was hustling.  Maybe he could be the
solution to the Masters problem.  "Hop in," Lincoln said.

The boy slid into the passenger seat and again grabbed his crotch
suggestively.  "What all you into?" he asked.

"Nothing right now," Lincoln responded.  He extended his hand.  "My name's
Dick Lincoln."

"You're not a cop, are ya?"  Taken aback, the boy seemed near panic.

"No, I'm no policeman," Lincoln replied, "and relax.  I may be able to help
you make some money, but not by having sex with me.  But I guess I can't be
against that sort of thing, at least not anymore.

"What's your name?"

"Ben.  Ben Atkins."

Lincoln took the boy's hand into his.  Somehow, his touch seemed
reassuring, although the boy was still freaked.

"So how'd you wind up out on the streets like this, Ben?"  Lincoln sounded
like he really cared, so the boy decided to come clean.

"My old man skipped out on me and Mom," he began.  "She's been sick.  Can't
do a whole lot of work.  She knows I'm gay, but she don't know I'm selling
my dick and whatever else I can.  But we need whatever money I can scrape
up.  And the hustlings a whole lot better down here.  Lotsa tourists."

"You ever hear of Noah Lincoln?" Lincoln asked.

"Aint he the kid that accused that guy of raping him?"

"That's the one," Lincoln replied, "and `that guy' did.  I'm Noah's father,
and I'm trying my best to prove that the jury was wrong when they wouldn't
believe my son.  I'll pay you, if you'll help me."

Lincoln explained the situation to Ben in detail.  What Masters special
group of boys had really been doing.  How Masters had been dismissed from
the scouts but had somehow reconstituted his group.  That he had to be back
to his old tricks.  That Lincoln thought a boy named Manly Simms was the
key to the whole thing.

"So how much do you make out here on an average night?" Lincoln asked.

"Maybe forty bucks.  Sixty on a good night.  I got a hundred once.
Sometimes nothing at all."

"Understand," Lincoln announced, "I don't care about you being gay, and as
far as I'm concerned, when you're not working for me, you can come down
here and do whatever you want to.  But if you'll work your way into
Masters' group and keep me informed of what's happening and where it's
going on, I'll give you forty dollars for every night you're involved,
maybe more.  I'm not rich, but I want that bastard in jail.  And I'll tell
you everything I can find out."

"Deal," Ben responded.

They shook on it, and Lincoln drove them back to Poconola and gave the boy
a down payment.  He didn't know if he was acting wisely or foolishly, but
it seemed a chance worth taking.



Copyright 2012 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.