Date: Tue, 7 Nov 2006 09:09:33 -0800 (PST)
From: Perfesser
Subject: BJ While Camping

WARNING: This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving human
beings.
I wish to explain that this story is not true, but that's not entirely
true either!  Further, it is not intended to promote illegal acts against
others, but to demonstrate that people can love each other.  The sexual
acts described in the story are the results of my experience and
imagination.  I have not necessarily performed these acts, and I do not
encourage others to perform them with anyone.  If the subject of man/boy
or same-gender love between people offends you, if this material is
illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for
such material, do not read further!
No animals were hurt in the writing of this story.

---

One afternoon a gang of us older Scouts decided to sleep out for the
weekend.  This was not a Boy Scout event, but we were all friends because
of that relationship.

Scott said he had a six-man wall tent we could use and Eddie offered to
transport us in his '49 Chevy.  Scott had a car, too, so we could all
travel with reasonable comfort.  Pete offered to get the menu together
and he and Danny bought the food.

My cousin Bill and I went along ... just to go along, though we helped
pay for the stuff.  Chink had two low-rider cots and Squeak brought an
extra tarp in case the tent wouldn't hold all of us.

Scott also knew the spot we'd use ... about a mile off the hardtop along
a section of dirt road ... it was near the cabin of a family friend; and
he checked to see that everything would be all right.

About supper time we headed out.  The ride wasn't all that long and soon
we were lost in the woods north of our little town.  We pulled off into
the woods in a small turnaround, and packed off several hundred yards
across the dirt road and into the trees.

Within minutes, Scott found the beginnings of a log bridge across a
shallow stream and announced that this was where we would pitch the tent
and stay the weekend.  He promptly sat on a tree stump which was part of
our end of the bridge and began directing everyone else as to where to
set the tent, dig the fire pit, and lay out our kitchen.

I was helping set up the six-man wall tent and backing out of the front
entry, setting the front ridgepole when I noticed that Scott was still
sitting on the stump.  But now his pants had dropped down around his
ankles and his underwear was bunched just above them, and he was jacking
off.  It was a slow and deliberate massage and his erection was
monstrous.

The fistful that was his cock had to be over nine inches long with a
prominent crown and even Scott's hand could not fit around it. This had
to be one of the largest peckers I had ever seen.

"Like it?" he asked, "Go ahead, you can touch it."  And I did ... just a
stroke or two.  Some of the other guys noticed, too, and a few also
fisted it for a while.  Scott smiled and sort of leaned back, "So this is
what camping with the boys is all about," he moaned.  And everybody
laughed.

One of the guys called something about eating, and Scott joined the rest
of us (pants now hiked up and fastened) as we dove into the food that was
prepared.  The early evening air was beginning to chill and soon it would
be dark; soon enough for playing, but now was the hour for nourishment.

We sat around the campfire long enough to get cramped asses, tell some
tall tales, and yawn enough hints that it was bedtime.  Finally Eddie
announced that he was ready for bed and the procession followed.

Pete was in the back corner of the tent, his sleeping bag crossways along
the back wall.  Eddie was next to him, their heads along the sidewall.
Chink was next and then Squeak.  Danny took one of the low rider cots and
set it over their feet along the other sidewall; his head was facing
toward the opening at the front.  And I lay across the front of the tent
with my chest and head partially under the end of Danny's cot (we were
almost face-to-face.  Bill and Scott slept on the tarp thrown on the
ground across the entrance and under the front fly.

Soon there were sounds of snoring and heavy breathing from several
corners of the tent.

I slipped up in my sleeping bag into a near seated position, my legs
under the end of the cot and now being able to twist slightly and reach
into Danny's sleeping bag to play with his cock.  He wasn't hung like
Scott but his eight inch spear was the nicest handful I'd ever played
with.  We'd spent many a night jerking each other off or taking turns at
the "back door."

Danny leaned into my face and whispered, "Want to try something new?"

"What?" I hissed back.

"You suck me ... I'll suck you, too."

"O.K." I was bold, "but you do me first.  And no cumming in my mouth when
I do you."

I leaned back against the side of the tent.  Danny rolled over and
reached his hand between my legs, pressing his palm face up under my ass
and taking my five inch pecker into his mouth.  It was wet and warm, and
instantly I knew it belonged there.

He worked me slowly and occasionally licked the underside of my cock.  He
sucked the head and he drew the entire shaft into his mouth; and I though
I'd died and gone to heaven. It felt so warm and right and perfectly
glorious ... I swear I saw stars.

When he came up for air (and it was good that he did because I was about
ready to blow), he whispered, "My turn."  He turned over and slid up on
the cot just a bit to make it easier for me to reach him.

I slid around and leaned over; taking his cue I slipped my hand under his
ass and licked the tip of his meat.  It was soft and hard at the same
time.  It was warm and spongy and fit perfectly in my mouth; and I knew
this would not be the last time I sucked a cock.

I rolled the glans in my mouth, feeling its textures on my tongue and
with my guarded teeth.  I tried to take a little more into my mouth and
half-gagged, backed off and then quickly moved over to take more.  The
veins on his shaft were so pronounced (they always looked so beautiful
and "muscular") and now they even felt strong and I could feel his blood
surging through them.

I'd press forward, taking a little more into my mouth and throat.  I'd
choke but press for more.  I loved the feel, the textures, the smells,
the slippery sweet and slightly salty tang.  And I loved the feel of his
pubic hairs on my lips as I felt the knob of his glans at the back of my
throat.

Danny tapped me on the back of my head, "I'm about to cum," he announced.
I lifted off and continued stroking him.  And he fired one, two, three,
four, five shots that spurted up and onto his belly and chest ...one
splattering on my cheek ... and then he throbbed several more dribbles
into his hair before exhaling.  He whispered, "Man that was good."

Then after wiping himself off, Danny rolled over and began sucking on me
again. Just a few minutes and I was ready to blow.  I tapped his
forehead.  He backed off maybe two or three inches and continued jerking
me.  And I blew my load ... several shots that made it clear to my
shoulder and down my chest.  Danny had some dripping from his chin as
well.

I cleaned off ... he kissed my softening pecker good-night, and we went
to sleep.

---

We woke up mid-morning and Pete suggested we all go for a morning swim
before breakfast.  But nobody had brought suits.

"So what," he said, "it's just us guys; besides it will help us air out."

And we all agreed.  Trouble was, the part of the creek that was deep
enough to swim was down by the cars, across the road, maybe 300 yards
away from the tent.  So we stripped and jostled our way to the swimming
hole.

The stream was a lot colder than the warm morning air, but it felt great
swirling around my balls (I assume everyone else felt good, too).  We
played, swam, dunked each other, did a little grab ass, and generally
washed away more than an hour.  But finally everyone was chilled and
hungry and wanted to dry off, so we headed back to the camp.

Just as we got to the road, a bright yellow convertible came into view.
So we did what every teenaged boy should do.  We quickly lined along the
road and stood at attention and saluted the three lovely ladies who
slowed down for a better look.  They screamed and whistled, and as they
passed we ran like hell to the tent, laughing and giggling all the way.

After brunch we just lulled around.  A couple of the guys began working
on the bridge and some of us took turns shooting mark with Eddie's pistol
which he'd brought along.  As always with this bunch, there were lots of
boisterous stories, some arguments about nothing in particular, and
simply barrels of bull.  In plain words, we had a lot of fun together.

Scott took up residence on his stump again and beat off ... with some
assistance from the others.  I had a hand in it, too.  When he finally
came, he just stood up and shot his load on the ground.  "There," he
panted, "that'll help some trees to grow."

We had supper late ... it was getting dark ... and hit the sack early
(like midnight).  If anyone else was beating off, I couldn't tell.  But
it wasn't long before Danny was leaning over my stiffy and sucking away.

He'd lick and then suckle on the head, running the tip of his tongue
under the rim of my glans and stimulating the circumcision scar.  Then
he'd suck the whole thing into his mouth and sort of chew.  The
sensations were almost too much.  Too quickly he brought me to climax as
I tapped his forehead and he backed off just before I shot.

Then it was my turn.

I crawled up under the end of the cot and leaned over Danny's middle.
His beautiful boner stood proud and I kissed the tip.  I licked the head
and sucked it into my mouth.  It was soft and warm and smooth and
altogether fitting.  It belonged there.  And I rolled it around with my
tongue.  I gummed it and sucked it gently and sensed every tiny spot on
it.

I drilled my tongue tip into his piss slit and sucked a little of the
shaft into my hungry mouth.  Then I slowly pressed forward until that tip
was lodged in my gullet and I thought I would choke.  And I sucked that
pole and pressed its sides with my tongue.  I stroked it with my tongue,
as best I could swirl it in my full mouth.  And I backed off just as
slowly, vacuuming it as it slipped past my lips.

This stiffened prod of Danny's belonged in my mouth.  I wanted it there
forever.  But all too quickly, he whispered, "Gonna blow," and I backed
off just as he came.  His cream filled the little hollow below his navel
and trickled into his pubic hair.  A few drops hung from the end of my
nose.  The smell was overwhelming ... warm and sensuous, salty and
creamy.  I wanted to taste it but feared repulsion.

I helped Danny clean off and kissed his soft pecker goodnight.

In the morning we packed up our gear and headed out.  It would be a whole
week before Danny and I got together again at the "shed" and played the
skinflute again.

It would not be the last.