Perverts 'R' Us

Scout Camp, Day Four

By Boy 'O Boy ( M/b, Mm/b, inc, pedo )

The usual disclaimers apply here. If you are under 18 or are a prude of any sort, meaning that anything other than biblical chapter and verse offends you, then please leave now. This story contains graphic depictions of intergenerational sex. If you've stuck around this long, get comfy and enjoy an erotic journey into the world of man/boy sex at a (fictional) Boy Scout camp.

Day four dawned with the sun shining into my canvas tent. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and put a pot of coffee over the smoldering embers of last night's campfire. I added a few twigs and sticks, and then I left to go to the restroom down the dirt path outside our scout campsite. I figured the coffee would be ready when I returned. It was early enough that there would be little traffic and I had to take a dump. I wasn't one of those guys who could publicly defecate. I needed my privacy.

I pretty much had finished my business, with the help of a magazine I'd brought along as most guys do when engaged in the same recreation. As I stood up, I spied a shadow approaching the open doorway. There was no door on this outbuilding. There wasn't much of a need for one, I guess. A slight figure appeared and tentatively looked around. I minded my own business, not wanting to scare the kid. He didn't look familiar to me but then, there were hundreds of boys at this camp every day so I didn't think that was unusual.

I was about to depart, magazine tucked under my arm when a small voice said, "Mister, can you lift me up so I can go pee-pee?"

"Why, sure son. Hold on." I said as I walked over to where he was standing. I bent down and hefted the lad up and held him close to the urinal. It was then that I realized that the boy had no zipper on his shorts and I'd have to pull them down in order for him to use the trough. I put him back down, slid his shorts and Spider Man underwear to his knees and again hefted him up to face the urinal.

"I can't pee." he said innocently.

"Why is that, son?" I asked.

"Cause you're squeezing my belly. It won't come out," he said simply and logically.

"Oh, I'm sorry. How does your daddy do it when he helps you?" was all I could think of to ask.

"He puts my feet on his knee and holds me here." he said, pointing to his chest.

I knelt on one knee beside the urinal facing sideways, leaving my other knee horizontal to be used as a platform for the boy's feet. This gave me a view of the boy's genitals. I had to look. Of course I looked! I wasn't however prepared for the boy's next statement.

"Ok, now hold my pee-pee like daddy does so I won't squirt it on the floor."

I nervously reached over and put a finger and thumb on the boy's slender nub of a penis. They covered his entire little dick except for the end of the head. My hand shook visibly, not from nervousness but from sheer pedophilic lust. I held his little cocklet as I felt the stream pass out of him and into the trough with a metallic echoing sound as it hit.

His cock was only about an inch long and pale pink. It looked as though it had never seen a minute of sunlight. His tiny ball sack looked like a little pink prune, I could barely tell if he had any testicles there. My left hand covered his entire little butt, holding him balanced on my knee. His skin was so soft it felt like warm velvet. I felt a twinge in my cock. The boy finished and stood there momentarily, still resting on my knee.

"I'm done now, Mister," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, sure kid, sorry I was just day-dreaming." I replied.

"Yeah, daydreaming about putting that hot little pecker of yours where it will feel real good!" I thought to myself.

"OK, now you can wash it off." he said.

"Um… I'm sorry. What do you mean?" I asked, slightly baffled but very interested.

"You know, like Daddy does, wash it off." he repeated as if I should know what his father's practice was.

"Son, you'll have to tell me how Daddy washes it off, the sink is way over there." I said as I pointed to the white porcelain appliance in the corner.

"No, silly! The boy squealed then laughed. Not like that! I mean the game me and Daddy play. When I go pee-pee then daddy says my thingy needs washed and he opens his mouth up and washes it with his tongue. Like that."

And he demonstrated as he opened his mouth wide and wiggled his little snake of a tongue up and down.

Oh, my God! I thought as my mind reeled with the picture of his father putting his son's penis into his mouth and washing it as if it was an everyday thing that every father did. Not that I was shocked. I was more enticed than shocked, thrilled even. I felt like the luckiest pervert on the planet at this moment in time. Here was this tiny boy, not a day older than 5 asking me to play the daddy game and suck his little penis. Now, I ask you, what man could say no to that? Not me, of course! I leaned my head forward as I turned the tot towards me in a single move and I engulfed his little package, balls and all, to squeals of laughter.

"Ohhhh you do it just like Daddy does. That tickles!" came the delighted response.

"How long does Daddy wash your pee-pee like this?" I had to ask as I momentarily came off this delicious little cocklet before resuming my "washing".

"I don't know. Sometimes not very long 'cause he says Mommy is waiting for us. Sometimes he does it a real long time, like when he tucks me into bed at night. He says he missed a spot and he has to do it all over again, so I let him. Don't you do that to your little kids?" he asked as if he was asking if I held their hand when we crossed the street.

There was no shame, no feeling of guilt or of secrecy. This boy accepted what his father did as the norm. It's a pity more boys don't experience this same feeling but then, with society the way it is nowadays one can't even hug his kid in public without being looked at as some sort of a deviate. More's the pity.

As I looked at the sexy little tot, fully exposed to me still, I felt my own cock rubbing against the inside of my Levis. I rubbed it with my free hand and it didn't go unnoticed by this little prick-tease.

"Daddy does that too," he said simply.

"Oh? And what does he do then?" I just had to know.

"He pulls down his pants, silly! So it can get out."

OK, simple enough, I'm thinking as I feel my balls tingle with pedophilic delight. I stood up and dropped my pants and my 7-inch uncut cock sprung up.

"Show me how Daddy does it now." I said teasingly.

The boy didn't hesitate a nanosecond. His little hand reached up and wrapped partially around my thick member. It would not encircle my thick cock. He began a slow stroking motion that made the hood slide over and beyond the head of my cock and then back onto the shaft. God! Nothing feels as good or looks as nasty as a little boy's hand on a man's thick adult cock. I could have cum right then and I almost did just that.

"Keep going. Show me how it ends for Daddy." I coaxed.

I needn't have worried. This kid wasn't going to stop mid-game. He was going to show me what his daddy did and wouldn't stop before, as if I'd have let him by this time. I watched in awe as this diminutive tyke expertly stroked my cock. He was now using both hands, while it was pointed dangerously close to his face. I pictured big gobs of cum shooting out, coating his cherubic little head and face and I couldn't take it any longer.

My cock throbbed, it spurted and my balls churned as I felt my prostate vibrate. Cum shot over the boy's head, then spurt after spurt landed in his hair and on his face and shirt. If the pope himself had walked in at that moment, I couldn't stop this perverted pleasure. After I regained some bit of composure, I walked him over to the sink and used the paper towels there to clean us up as best I could. I was still panting and I'm sure I was flushed. I took his hand and we walked out the bathroom door into the sunlight.

"You look a little young to be here at scout camp, Son." I said.

"Oh, I'm not in scouts. I'm too little." he replied, with that same cute giggle.

"Well, then why are you here?" I asked logically.

I wasn't questioning why I'd had such rare luck as to have sucked a little 5-year-old boy's penis for breakfast, but I was damn curious as to why he was at the camp in the first place.

"Well, my mom dropped me off here 'cause she had to go to work and my daddy is gonna watch me for the rest of today then I get to go back home, I guess." he replied.

"Well, you better go back to your dad now, son." I suggested.

"Can you take me?" came the coy reply.

"Sure I can. Which way is your camp? I can take you back to your dad."

"It's that way," he said pointing towards the main part of the camp.

I took the boy's hand and we slowly walked up the path where I saw a man standing by a smoldering campfire. He smiled as he saw his son and looked me in the eye. He nodded his greeting and extended his hand. He was a tall man, six-foot easy, compared to my more average five-foot-ten. He had sandy hair and wore a baseball cap with the brim curled down around his eyes so that they were shadowed in darkness. It was a very sexy look that I'd admired on many a country guy. I wasn't just a pedophile. I was also a very talented and lustful cocksucker of men in my own right. A hot adult cock held nearly the same fascination and sexual appeal that a kid's did. Not quite, but almost. In any case, I was turned on by this handsome father figure.

"Hi, I see you met Charlie. Boy, you know you're supposed to ask me before you leave the campsite." he said in a mock scolding fashion.

"I hope he wasn't a bother. Where did you go, Son?" the man asked.

"I had to pee, Daddy. I couldn't wait." he replied honestly.

I saw a slight look of concern on the father's face but it was quickly replaced by one of relief. "Well, you should thank this man for finding you and bringing you back to me. Tell him thank you, Son."

"Thanks, Sir." he said wasting few words.

His father and I laughed and I turned to leave when Charlie piped up. "He washed my pee-pee like you do, Daddy."

I must have blushed ten shades of deep red and was in the fight or flight mode when I saw the look on his dad's face. His furrowed brow was replaced with a wide grin.

"Oh? And how did he know about the pee-pee game, Son? You didn't tell him, by chance, did you?" he said as he winked in my direction.

"Oh, oh! I forgot, Daddy. I'm not s'posed to tell, am I?" came the tiny voiced apologetic reply. "I sorry, Daddy."

My heart slowed down from the 300 beats per minute to a more life-sustaining 150 beats or so. I couldn't tell if it was beating that fast out of fear or out of lust and erotic excitement. But what I did know was that his father didn't harbor any ill feelings.

He winked at me again and said, "I guess you've done this before, maybe with your own boys?"

I made a non-committal grunt. I was at this point, speechless and hard as the proverbial rock. My cock was stretching the denim of my Levis to near-breaking point and the man standing before me noticed it.

"Yeah, I hear ya." he said with a knowing smirk. Then he rubbed his own expanding crotch area and said he would be at the boathouse after lunch and would I be interested in joining the two of them for some after-dinner delight.

I told him I didn't have any plans and I'd meet him and his son outside the mess hall about 12:45 if that worked for him. It did. I waved goodbye to Charlie and shook his dad's big, muscular farmer-type hand.

It would be a very long morning before lunchtime came and went I thought as I walked back to my campsite for a well-deserved cup of hot black coffee.

Maybe it would calm my shaking hands.

The morning passed slowly with classes and crafts and I hurriedly ate my lunch and then stood and excused myself while the boys all waited for their dessert of chocolate pudding. My dessert would come in a few minutes and would be much more appetizing and a whole lot less fattening. I grinned to myself. As I exited the big mess hall I spied my new friends. Dad and son were lying under a nearby tree and dad was showing his kid a caterpillar. To the entire world it looked as though dad was giving his son a common nature lesson. But I spied something not obvious to the casual observer. Dad had a nice wet spot on the front of his pants and a pretty nice outline of a good-sized cock to boot. I scratched my balls in an absent minded way and walked over to where they were laying. As I approached, the father stood up and pulled his son to a standing position beside him.

"Well, I see you made it." he said matter-of-factly - as if I'd miss this opportunity, ain't happening, no way.

We walked towards the lake and the boathouse. We didn't say much. Nothing much needed saying, really. We both had other things on our minds. We got to the weather-worn door and he pushed it open. It was musty smelling inside but I didn't care. After we were all inside, he turned and closed the door, using the wooden 2 X 4 barricade so no one could enter. Young Charlie wasted no time in getting out of his shorts and shirt. He knew the drill well by this time, I was certain. Dad wasn't far behind. I was naked pretty quick. I was in awe as I saw Dad's big piece of meat dangling before him, nearly hard and arching horizontally in front of his muscular thighs.

A droplet of anticipatory pre-cum was hanging off his cock head. His balls hung even lower than my own did and I knew my balls were low hangers. I'd seen enough naked guys in showers, etc. to know I had some special gonads. Dad hefted his son onto the table and leaned down to give him a not so daddy-like kiss. I saw his tongue pry the boy's lips apart and I knew that Dad was already so turned on that he couldn't wait. I edged closer for a better view. I felt a hand on my balls and looked to see the man's hand cup my balls while he began molesting his young son with the other hand.

The boy closed his eyes and sighed, "Oh, Daddy!"

This was enough to bring my own cock to full attention and I felt that familiar tingle as I watched boy and man in that age-old union of love and perversion. I'd just about bet that Adam found some quiet places in the Garden of Eden in which he found time to show Cain, Abel, and Seth the finer points of man/boy love. It was innate in man to become aroused by youth. I would not deny myself this desire no matter what society decided. This was a purely personal decision. No, decision denotes a conscious choice. I had no choice here, other than the choice to go with my God-given urges. To do otherwise would have gone against nature.

I reached for the boy's tiny genitals and began a gentle, loving massage as his father continued feeding him his tongue and rubbing the boy's buttocks. This child was experiencing a love that few boys had the pleasure of having in their lives. Dad laid the boy on the table and spread his tiny legs wide. The boy knew the routine well and he grabbed his legs under each knee and held himself, presenting himself willing to his father's ministrations. I watched the man bend at the waist and begin to tongue his boy's asshole. Again the boy sighed his satisfaction.

The table was below waist height and I maneuvered myself so the boy could reach out and grab my throbbing, drooling cock. He did. His mouth opened to accept this offering and his eyes closed as his mouth engulfed as much of my man-meat as he could. I let him take all that he could while I continued watching his father bathe the boy's pink anus in saliva. As the man stood up I watched as his middle finger probed at the boy's moist asshole. I saw the boy open his legs a bit wider and accept the finger. It slid inside; little by little as the boy's breathing became faster and deeper.

God I love how boys react to sexual touch! They are the model for how a human being should give themselves up completely. Boys have a built-in complete trust in their fathers. Hence, they can and do allow their dads full access to every part of their very willing little bodies. A boy's asshole is very pliable. I've seen a man's finger stretch an infant's anal ring open with almost no effort while the child coos appreciatively at this wonderful feeling. How we learned to become hesitant, reluctant as we got older only spoke of the abuse of denial and mistrust that most parents forced upon their charges. We send them messages that their bodies are dirty, that their urges are abnormal. How cruel a world did we live in that we made children feel ashamed, dirty for wanting this closeness that only a true pedophile, a child lover as the word is so clearly defined, could give them.

I saw the man's finger disappear completely as he massaged the insides of his son's passage. I saw the boy squirm in full acceptance and watched as his body shivered in the delight of pre-orgasm. I fed the boy my now dripping phallus in one end as his daddy continued massaging that impossibly infantile prostate to total satisfaction. Father engulfed his boy's erect penis and balls with his mouth. The boy moaned and shivered. He shook and panted. He held his breath, and then gasped. Watching a boy have an orgasm had to be one of the greatest pleasures a man could ever experience. Sometimes it was even more gratifying than my own orgasms gave me. I felt the boy's sheer sexual delight.

My own orgasm was mere seconds away. I filled the boy's mouth with my semen as I watched his father masturbate onto the boy's stomach. Gob after gob of white, thick cum covered the youngster. As my own orgasm died down I saw his father lean over and passionately lick the creamy offering from his son's pink body and then press his mouth onto his son's lips so that they exchanged his seed. I was satisfied. Sexually, physically and mentally I was sated. Nothing gave me such great pleasure as this, the love and unconditional surrender of a boy and his father. It was beautiful. As we left the boathouse we exchanged phone numbers and talked of meeting up in the future. We lived close enough to each other that making a short drive and we could spend an hour or a day doing what we loved best.

After supper, I returned to my campsite. We had planned an initiation of the young scouts that required my presence for the entire evening. I would miss the orgy at the scout house this night, but somehow this didn't matter to me at the moment. My co-counselor started off the initiation with cautionary words passed on to him by a great Indian chief many moons ago. That was the scenario. First, each boy had his face painted with streaks of blood, well red water-based paint, but to them, it was blood. Then, each was given the feather of a great Golden Eagle. It little mattered that they were really turkey feathers. Each boy pushed the feather into his hair. The boys then sat around the campfire. I was in charge of the tom-tom. I had a rubber-headed drumstick and I beat the drum a single stroke spaced a few seconds apart for further effect. It set a magic mood in the small camp.

He taught the boys a magical chant, phrase by phrase, slowly at first, then faster, until every boy knew the enchanted words by heart.

It went something like this: "Eyeam…….. Ahsi…. Leegus!" chanted with great inflection on each word, pausing between words spoken by the respected leader and then repeated with reverence by the troop in unison.

It seemed that the clouds parted at just the right magical moment and the full moon shone on each boy's rapt face.

"Repeat the magic words!" the command came as each boy said them reverently.

"Eyeam….. Ahsi……Leegus!" Again and again it went, faster and faster. "Eyeam, Ahsi, Legus!"

The boys were near frenzy as they danced Indian style around the glowing campfire, fully becoming warriors. You could see the awe and pride in their young eyes. It was a wonderful scene of boyhood.

"Again!" came the command.

"Iamm… Asill…Legus!!"

"Faster", came the insistent command.

"I am a sil leegus"…..

"Louder! Faster!" They were urged until finally the words took on their own meaning. It all became completely clear to the boys and me. I choked back a chuckle as I looked at the boys' faces.

"I am a silly goose!" came the final chanting of the boy's voices.

And as if one, every boy rolled with uncontrollable laughter at the rare joke played upon them. They would remember this night for the rest of their lives, as would I.

As the moon rose over the quiet woods and the sounds of the scout's slumbering breathing filled the open space I drifted off to a blissful, satisfied sleep. I would never consider being a volunteer camp counselor as an unpleasant job again. I truly was a boy lover in every sense of the word.

Any comments can be sent to Perverts_R_Us@hotmail.com or sent to the webmaster at Perverts_R_Us for forwarding to me. Thanks for reading my story.

Submit feedback to Perverts R Us by clicking here.