International Scout Boys: Going Commando!
When I joined the Scouts I imagined we’d make dozens of trips out into the wilderness. I figured we’d sleep almost exclusively in tents, or, on special occasions, we’d all snuggle up in sleeping bags, directly under the stars, warmed by a fire which we’d lit ourselves. There’d be ghost stories which we’d whisper to one another while pounding down the candies we’d smuggled into our rucksacks. Imagine my confusion, then, when on my first trip into the great unknown I discovered that we’d be staying in a hostel. Confusion became profound embarrassment when Scoutmaster Snow told us boys we were sharing rooms and needed to get into pairs. As the new kid on the block, I ended up with no one to share with. I was a little disappointed, but when Scoutmaster Snow told me I’d have to share with him, I felt a pang of absolute terror. Snow is by far the scariest Scoutmaster in our troop: he’s ultra serious, he doesn’t laugh at jokes, and there’s a rumor that he carries a gun. We arrived at the hostel at some ungodly hour of the night. Everyone else scuttled off to their rooms to giggle and eat candy. Scoutmaster Snow and I walked through endless corridors to what turned out to be the furthest room in the building. The room smelt damp and the beds looked deeply uncomfortable, with greasy sheets and flimsy duvets. Snow went into his rucksack and pulled out a Scout flag which he hung from the curtain rail. I think he was doing it ironically. Then he started taking his clothes off. Right in front of me! I don’t know what I expected; it’s not like either of us could have slept in our uniforms. I contemplated getting under the duvet to take my clothes off, but didn’t want him to think I was some sort of mommy’s boy on my first expedition. So, I started unbuttoning my shirt with all the fake confidence I could muster… One of the things I noticed about Snow as he started whipping his clothes off was that he’s plainly very fit for his age. His arms were surprisingly muscular and his torso was well-defined with a six-pack. Perhaps I was imagining it, but it seemed there was suddenly something a little weird about the atmosphere in the room. Neither of us was speaking, but, every time I looked over at Snow, I noticed that he was staring back at me. Despite this, I found myself unable to take my eyes off of him. It didn’t hurt that he looked like some sort of underwear model. Moments later, he threw his shorts off. What I couldn’t have predicted in a million years was that he was going commando. He’d just spent an entire day bossing around a group of over-excited boys and he had absolutely no underwear on! I don’t think for a moment that Master Snow is a sleaze-ball of any kind. In fact, I’m sure his choice to refrain from underwear is an act of pure defiance. An exciting finger up to normality. I found myself speaking before my brain had had a chance to process what I was seeing. “You… don’t… wear… underwear?” I expected him to be angry at me for making it clear that I’d been watching him undress, but he took the question in stride, casually telling me that a lot of guys go commando. A million questions started bouncing around in my brain. But, I opted for silence instead, which was just as well because, at that very moment, he started fiddling with his penis, before informing me that he was glad we had the place to ourselves. The blood instantly rushed to my face. It sounded like he was coming on to me. But, I mean, he couldn’t have been, could he? He’s my Scoutmaster and Scoutmasters don’t come on to scouts. I looked back down at his dick, which, it occurred to me, was probably twice the size of anything I’ve previously seen hanging between someone's legs. At that point, the blood drained from my face and started making its way down between my legs. As I saw it, I had a choice: I could say I was exhausted and vanish underneath the duvet, hoping it would all go away, or I could go with the flow. So… I went with the flow. He asked if I’d ever seen a grown man’s dick before. I wanted to say “not in such close proximity,” but my mouth was dry with nerves, so I just shook my head instead. When he asked if I wanted to touch it, my heart started thumping like a drum in my ears. He stepped forward, and I found myself, in some sort of out-of-body experience, reaching towards him and taking his dick in my hand. It immediately started to swell and I rather enjoyed the feeling of power that this suddenly gave me. I ran my palm up and down the shaft and watched in awe as the beast doubled in size. Somehow my lips were touching the tip of his dick moments later. I had no clue what to do, but decided the only option was to throw caution to the wind and just see where instinct leads me. My first observation was that it smelled incredible—almost as though he’d just had a shower rather than have spent the better part of a day rushing up and down the aisles of a sweaty bus, screaming at unruly young people. Before I knew what I was doing, my lips were running up and down the shaft of his dick and I was in a competition with myself to get as much of it in my mouth as I could. It made me gag, but I was determined to keep going. When he told me I was a natural, I felt unbelievably proud. Wanting his dick made me want him. I felt a powerful desire for him surging through my body—the likes of which I’ve never experienced. He started running his hands really gently down my back and I could feel my body responding. I found myself shaking and heard myself making spontaneous groans of pleasure. He thrust his hand down the back of my shorts and gently pressed his finger against my hole. It felt a little strange; not the sensation itself, but the fact that I was utterly okay with what he was doing. Then, he kissed me. His kisses were slow, passionate and romantic. The feeling of his stubble brushing against my soft chin made me want to melt. He told me to stand. He pulled my shorts and underwear down and we were suddenly both naked. I knew that he wanted to fuck me; it felt like a natural progression for two guys who’d gone this far so quickly. That said, the idea of being fucked by a man had never really crossed my mind before and I had no idea what to do or expect. He positioned me on the bed and told me to relax. I’m really not sure that anyone has ever actually managed to feel relaxed after being ordered to do so. Regardless of whether I did or didn’t, I wasn’t expecting him to slip his tongue into my hole. It had never occurred to me that this might be something men did in the sack together, or that the sensation would be so mind-blowingly intense. The more his tongue probed me and danced between my ass cheeks, the more I wanted to feel his dick inside me. Then he stood up and I felt him lining the wet tip of his dick against my saliva-filled hole, and then, just like that, it started to creep into me. It sounds really lame, but in the weirdest way, I immediately felt as though I’d become a man. I was no longer a virgin. Slowly the feelings of pain gave way to sensations of unbelievable pleasure. I kept glancing back to see his beautiful, sculpted body wrapped around mine, glued to me like we were one single, thrusting being. He gradually picked up the pace. The bed creaked and squeaked like crazy and, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the room we were in was a whole corridor away from anyone else, I would have gotten real paranoid that we were being overheard. Walking into breakfast in the morning would have been an embarrassing experience for sure! It turns out that Scoutmaster Snow likes to experiment with all kinds of positions, no doubt to see which ones generate the most pleasure. Every single thing he tried was amazing in its own way, but some of the more athletic positions literally made my eyes water. But just when it got a bit too intense or uncomfortable, he’d soften things up, pulling my head back and kissing me tenderly. He was as generous a lover as he was talented. He pushed me onto my back with my legs behind my shoulders. He kissed me as he fucked me, periodically pulling away and looking down at me with his kind, piercing blue eyes. He grabbed my rock-hard cock and started to jerk me. It instantly tipped me over the edge. I have genuinely never cum so hard. It just flew out of my dick all over my stomach and chest in great watery spurts. But he wasn’t done. He continued to fuck me even harder than before. Every part of my body was sensitive and screaming for him to stop, but at the same time, I didn’t want things to end because I just wanted him to be happy. He went harder and faster, deep inside my stomach, ruthlessly tearing my ass apart with a look of masculine, brutal single-mindedness fixed to his face. Then, I could feel his orgasm gushing out of him and filling my insides with jets of pure, undistilled masculinity. We lay in each other's arms on a single bed in that hostel room for what seemed an eternity and I don’t think I will ever feel such complete contentment in my life again.
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