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My introduction to sex came from Mr. J at scout camp when I was 11. At our annual summer camp, we younger boys were assigned four to a tent. The group leaders had individual tents, a little distance away. During each day at camp we had loads of energetic activities to keep us busy, and we also did lots of hiking and tree climbing before our evening ritual, a "camp fire" and meal together. This was my first year at camp, and I knew that I would have a lot to learn. We later sat around and talked about all sorts of "boy" things, before eventually heading back to our tents, content, and (generally ) worn out. After lights out, we were supposed to be quiet, but we were allowed to talk quietly.
Our group leader, Mr J, was I thought, an ordinary sort of middle aged guy, a bit of a disciplinarian - he liked to be obeyed, he was a schoolmaster at our "all boys" school, and I knew that some of the older boys treated him with great respect, although I didn't really know why. We knew he wasn't married. He was just one of the group leaders, a teacher in his 50s, who taught French in school but also helped to run the boy scouts. Mr J was a stocky, strong man with greying hair, and a bald patch. He had hairy arms and legs, and although overweight, he was pretty fit and muscular.
I never thought very much about him until the first time that he took our scout group out for a trek on his own, across the hills, leaving the other seniors in camp, and taking cold drinks and sandwiches with us. He said that we needed to keep up our "fluid intake" as it was such a warm day, so we all carried and drank water frequently. Around lunch time he said " let's take a comfort break" as we passed through a clearing in the woods, with fallen logs that made ideal seats. I sat down for a rest, while some of the boys wandered off separately to take a pee in the bushes, and once they had returned to eat sandwiches, Mr J walked off, too. By then, I also needed to go, following straight after him, but I didn't go too far before I caught sight of Mr J again . He obviously didn't need too much privacy, hadn't bothered to walk very far away, and he was just standing at the side of the track, in a sunny spot on the sloping hillside, gazing out over the bracken, across the countryside. His shorts were undone at the front, and he had already taken his cock out through the flies. But what a cock ! Previously I had seen other boy scouts urinate outdoors, but never an adult. His dick was massively thick, with blue veins standing out along the stubby length. The nob end was large, too, and sheltered under a thick loose foreskin end. Unusually, he wasn't holding his penis with his hand while he went, both of his hands were clasped behind his back, which gave me a clear view of his cock, his nob end, with its overhanging thick wrinkled foreskin. I had a good chance to study all of this before he had realised that I had come up next to him. But he still made no attempt to cover up, and instead looked directly at me, staring, and said "you can hold it for me , boy, I need to pee". I was quite shocked, but it was more of an instruction than a request, and as I knew Mr J was an ex military man, I would have to behave, and do as I was told. So although I hesitated for a moment, standing beside him, I then reached out, attempting to hold his dick like I would hold mine, but my fingers were not even long enough to grasp around it. It was so thick, and warm and sweaty to the touch. Almost immediately that my fingers partly closed around it, Mr J started to pee . He must have needed to go quite badly. His foreskin ballooned slightly as I watched, before the dam burst and the stream erupted - a curved arc of strong yellow pee, steaming slightly, splashing into the bushes. I just stood and watched, amazed at the girth of his dick, and with my own boy cock hardening in my pants. "Let it out boy, let me see it" he murmured, and he too started watching closely as I let go of his cock, and struggled to get my own slim penis clear of my flies, whilst he continued his own long leak. Once I had succeeded in releasing mine, through my flies, he looked closely - "Mmmh, young man, yours is developing nicely", he said " you"ll soon be able to enjoy some adult fun". His stream subsided as he continued to watch me peeing into the bushes with my semi erect little cock. When both of us had finished relieving ourselves, "See you later" was all he said, shaking and then kind of folding away his massive thick cock into his tight shorts, before walking back to join the group. I remember it so clearly now. To him that may have seemed an every-day encounter, but to me, as an 11 year old, not only seeing, but also actually holding an adult cock was a totally novel experience. I felt strange butterfly feelings in my groin. It came as a shock to me at the time, and it was a life-changing event, but it was also just the start of whole new set of boyhood sexual adventures, whilst at camp.
After our long hike, we all slept soundly, the following day was uneventful , we all stayed around the camp, practising knot tying, food preparation, and cooking. By evening, having had all day supervising us, I think Mr J had had enough of our juvenile company, so he spent that evening talking quietly with the other adult group leaders. I kept thinking about Mr J and his amazing penis, and whenever I did, I experienced that same tingling feeling, and my dick would get hard.
Two nights later, after lights-out, we boys were talking together in our tent and began laughing loudly enough to be heard outside. After a lot of fun and jokes, suddenly the tent flap was pushed aside and in came Mr. J. He scolded us for making so much noise, but we had a hard time stopping our laughter. He tried several times to control us, but eventually gave up, and he then singled me out, whether by prior design or not, I don't know. He said that since we couldn't stop laughing, he would have to split us up for a while, and that I was to go back to his tent with him, to calm down. His tent was separated from the main group by a little distance. After that first " hands-on" experience with him peeing in the bushes, I had made a habit of trying to be close to him whenever he went off alone, and I had realised that he enjoyed fully exposing his cock, handsfree, and always put his head back, looking at the sky as he pissed openly, so I became confident that he wouldn't mind me looking at, or even touching, his private parts. When he and I got to his tent, it was dark, and the inside was only slightly illuminated by a soft battery light. We opened the door flap, and ducked inside, closing the tent flaps behind us. I was surprised when he immediately told me to take off my pyjamas, but it was a warm night so I did as I was told. He then also quickly undressed himself. I watched as he removed his pants, and could see that his thick cock was standing out from his body, above a pair of large, hairy balls. It was not hanging limp, as it had done early when I watched him. Then he told me to lay down on the blanket pulled up alongside his sleeping bag. As I did so, he laid down too, but with his head toward my feet, and so, he too, was by then, completely naked. As we lay on our backs, side by side, he reached out , gently took my hand and guided it into contact with his crotch, which was very warm to the touch. His pubic hair was coarse and rough to the touch. I knew he wanted me to hold his cock, and I liked the feelings that it gave me when I grasped his member. He went on to show me how to stroke his cock, which was now already quite erect, and how to play with his nipples, which were also hard. He then demonstrated how he wanted me to run my index finger gently around the underside of his balls, and along the crease at the top of his thighs. He barely touched me once or twice (I think I was hard but I hadn't reached the age when I could ejaculate, yet). Mainly he just lay back and concentrated on the sensations I was giving him. His cock was not long, but very thick - my small hand just wouldn't quite go around it. Because I had seen, and helped him taking a long piss in the bushes, I already knew that his cock was short and stubby, but incredibly thick. His foreskin was also thick, and wrinkled. I was fascinated as I stroked his hard, throbbing cock, which had lengthened considerably, and I sensed his growing pleasure. My eyes had adjusted to the near darkness, so I could see that his foreskin was thick and slid easily back and forth, from completely covering his nob end, to disappearing altogether, along his hard shaft. To prolong his pleasurable feelings, he would, from time to time, remove my hand, or tell me to remove it, to his nipples or to his balls. Eventually, as he started to breathe heavily, he instructed me to rub just the head of his cock, not the shaft, between my thumb and two fingers. It was wet and slippery. He liked it when I teased the underside of his nob with the tip of my finger. I really didn't know what would happen, so I did whatever he asked but I concentrated on the head of his cock, just as he had requested. He in turn took the very tip of my little cock between his fingers, and teased my nob end. It gave me exquisite feelings, which I had never previously experienced. He whispered to me "wank it, Roy, let me watch you". I let go of his dick, and started to stroke my own thin dick. He watched intently, breathing hard, and staring hard at my erect little cock. It was so hard, and my little hairless balls were drawn up tight to my body. I looked down and compared the size of our two dicks - his was probably four times as thick as mine, but not much greater in length. His balls were significantly bigger than mine, and enclosed in heavy, hairy sacks. He let out little gasps of pleasure each time I stroked the underside of his cock with my index finger, really close to his slit. He lovingly squeezed just the end of my cock, and stroked my soft balls. Soon he started moaning softly and whispered " suck me , boy, I do so need you to suck me" between little gasps of pleasure. I wasn't sure that I wanted to do that, and I hesitated for a while. It was too late anyway, suddenly I could feel his nob end pulsing in my hand, as he made little thrusts with his hips. " Grip it tight boy" he demanded. He panted really hard as he came, but he didn't actually shoot jets of cum. Instead, cum flowed out of his slit continuously and ran over all my fingers, before forming a pool in the palm of my hand. There was a lot of it. I was amazed. To me, he was an old man, much more important than me, deserved my respect, and I felt privileged that he had chosen me, not one of the other boys, and allowed me to caress his most intimate parts in his tent, even while other young boys were present, quite close nearby. When it was over, we both got up and he wiped my hand dry, and he then used scented soap to disguise the smell of his cum. I put my pyjamas back on, and crept back to my tent, and of course never told anyone what had happened.
We did that again, twice, later that week. How he got me into his tent the other times I don't really remember, but I enjoyed our sessions together and my small cock had always stiffened as I stroked Mr. J's thick cock. I think he was genuinely fond of me. On the final night, he came into our four man tent, again after lights out. It was totally dark. He sat on my bed and began talking to the four of us about mundane things, and telling us little stories, as scouts do, in the darkness. It was a little crowded, with five of us in the one small tent. While he was sitting by me, chatting quietly to us all, he really surprised me by reaching out in the darkness, grasping my hand, guiding it back back into his lap and gently wrapping my fingers around his erect cock end, which was very hard indeed. Even though the other boys were there in the tent, he had his dick already out in the open, through his pyjama flies, but it couldn't be seen, not even by me. I could feel that it was standing straight up, and was bone hard. I happily stroked it for him quietly in the darkness, as he chatted away with the other boys. This was our secret, an indication of his need and perhaps even, his affection for me. This went on for a little while, with me gently moving his thick wet foreskin around on his nob end, and I sensed, and heard, his breathing starting to quicken, even as he talked to us. He couldn't allow himself to cum of course, because of where we were. Suddenly he got up, and I was surprised when I wasn't told to go back with him to his tent, but instead said " I must go", and left our tent in a real hurry, to get back to his own. I followed him in my pyjamas in the darkness to see what he would do, and in the moonlight, I could see that he had stopped, even before arriving at his tent. He was leaning backwards against a tree, head back, eyes closed, pissing a long arc into the air, before it came to a dribbling end. I think he must have been really desperate for sexual relief. He then started masturbating hard with one hand. With his other hand he was cupping his balls, and, I guess, squeezing them in time with his hand strokes. He then stopped for a few moments, probably savouring the feeling of spunk rising from his balls. He removed the hand that had been caressing his testicles, leant back, gazing at the starlit sky, with his free hand now on top of his head, stroking his bald patch, before suddenly shuddering, moaning, and ejaculating a long steady stream of sperm onto the dry ground. This image has always remained etched on my mind all through my years as I grew up, and reached adulthood. As a teen, I often used to think about both this, and the feeling of Mr J's thick foreskin between my finger and thumb, watching him get his relief, and I tried to imagine the pleasure that having an eleven year old pre-pubescent boy do that to him, must have given him.
Later in my teenage years, I often re-lived the feelings of the enjoyment that I had got from playing with Mr J's hard cock, while I thought about him, and as I masturbated in my lonely bed, late at night.
Although I had enjoyed all the experiences I had with Mr. J, I later came to feel that it was probably wrong, and I was embarrassed about it for years. In boarding school the following year I didn't want any of my friends to know about Mr. J and what I had learned, even when I was beginning to explore sex with them. I didn't dare suggest that we lie in the 69 position that Mr. J. had taught me, because they would have asked where I learned it from. Much later, in college, I eventually told my two best friends what had happened and swore them to secrecy. They still knew Mr J, who by then was aged 60 plus. Later still, through my adult years, I also often thought about the pleasure that my little hand must have given him, and longed for a young schoolboy to do the same for me, so that I too could know the joy from sharing, and passing on, sexual excitement with a totally inexperienced young lad. But I never managed to get that opportunity.
Then I pretty much forgot about it for years. When I first began to get attracted to men in much later years, I again thought about Mr. J and decided that it had really been an erotic, gentle and kind introduction to sex. I realised I should be grateful to him. I guessed that he had probably done exactly the same with other boys, too. His memorable comment to me in one of our sessions was: "I never got married because I like doing this with boys too much!" He had certainly enjoyed it with me, but then, to be fair, so had I.
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