This was the very first time when I ever saw somebody else naked.
But a couple of days before all this life-changing abuse happened, being a newbie to camping, another older scout (not one of those who were later to assault me) had been assigned to take care of, watch over and share his tent with me. This youth, who I didn't know, he being maybe 16, going to the same school as the rest of us boys, was friendly enough, though keeping his distance'.
On our first night I had a newly purchased sleeping bag, which I used to climb into in order to change, very awkwardly, into my pyjamas. Quite a struggle. But my companion, in the very limited space we had together, removed his uniform shirt and then, to my astonishment, his shorts (as I've said, the rule in our troop was never to wear underpants! Sounds quite odd now) - I didn't dare look in his direction, averting my gaze. Then stark naked, he got into his sleeping bag. He made no comment and immediately seemed to lie down and go to sleep, leaving me wondering about the other scouts. Were they, like me, in pyjamas, or were they like my companion, sleeping in the buff? I had no idea.
The next morning (I was disturbed to be awoken, most unpleasantly, by the sensation of a spider crawling across my face!), my companion was already up, kneeling in the confined space, already having put on his uniform, at which I was quite relieved. He was consulting a map of the area, wishing me a "Good morning" as I struggled into my own khakis, once again staying 'decent' by doing it in the sleeping bag. Not at all easy! - but for me there was no other option.
Next evening it was the same undressing procedure for each of us, with me now wondering self-consciously if I'd been the only scout who'd brought pyjamas. But once more I couldn't look at my companion as he undressed, apparently without caring, as though it was the most natural thing in the world - which, in fact, it was!
However, now when I awoke in the morning, I could see that he wasn't in his sleeping bag so my first thought was that he'd gone out of the tent, so I sat up - and there, no more than three feet or so in front of me, was a scene so bewildering that I was for a split-second transfixed by the sight of him kneeling, his back towards me, seemingly unaware that I was awake, while he was stark naked, thighs well apart, bum in full view, seemingly poring over a map once more. I didn't know which way to look - but just didn't dare to gaze any longer at what was before me. In the split second before I turned my head away I had a vision of what had looked like two walnuts in a brown paper bag dangling down below a hole in the cleft of his bum, with a tufted halo of short black hairs surrounding the puckered opening.
A brief millisecond it had been, but that image was hypnotic and has been seared into my mind ever since. I had never ever seen any shithole before, I'm sure not even my own in a mirror. I thought later, where had been his 'willy' which should have been hanging down in front of his balls? Then later wondered had it actually been there, not hanging limp but pointing straight forward - and had it been stiff because he was in that position deliberately so that I would see him like that? I don't know the answer. Anyway, I think I mumbled something like "I'm sorry". He didn't even turn his face around to ask what I was sorry about, but muttered "Doesn't matter" - so did he know I'd seen his backside and bum-hole in all its mouth-wateringly, lickable glory? I could hardly have missed it!Nothing more was said, and for the rest of my time sharing the tent with him I saw nothing more of his backside or any other intimate part of his body before my own fateful fall from grace. However, I think it was on the very next night when I was woken up just for few moments by the sound of a soft, swishing, rhythmic rubbing motion coming from next to me, slow at first then gradually speeding up. With heavy breathing? I can't honestly remember. If by that time of my life I'd 'discovered' the act of tossing myself off (as the other boys called it) which I most likely had, I'd have thought it a temptation which had to be absolutely resisted, being grievously sinful! Our troop all came from a Catholic school - even the scoutmaster, the one who went berserk in caning me (the bastard!) always had his clerical dog-collar on under his uniform shirt. So to be in close adjacent to my 'minder' who I was supposed to respect, yet who was now tossing himself in his sleeping bag was quite a shock. Of course, the next morning I could never mention what I 'witnessed', even if only in sound, of his 'sinful' under 'cover'.
So that was the first time I saw another guy 'in the raw', a then alarming and indelible image planted in my brain, destined to remain there forever - a foretaste of what not much later I'd be in a lifelong addiction to, burying my face into gloriously masculine, furry bums, listening to the moans of ecstasy as my tongue lick, lick, licked those beautiful shitholes. Surely the friendliest of all acts and in my opinion, the most pleasurable, that one man can do to another. Yum yum! 😋
