In the summer of 1989, I had celebrated my tenth anniversary as a scout. But, now, at the age of eighteen, I had now earned the rank of Explorer. And as an Explorer, I would get many more opportunities to explore my young manhood...and the manhood of other Explorer Scouts. I was excited when we held our first jamboree...my first one as an Explorer. The uniform of an Explorer is the same as a Cub Scout, except instead of a cap the Explorer wears the same type of cap as a Boy Scout...but in navy blue!
I was so thrilled to see that all of my friends from the Boy Scout jamborees had also become their countries' equivalent of the Explorers. We had all grown into such handsome young men...and we were all pleased to see that as we grew, so had that which we loved so much. Again, we had decided that we were going to go to our secluded spot (since the Explorer jamborees were being held in the same exact location). Only this time we were going to bring another member of our respective countries with us to have one wham-bam free-for-all!
After the first morning's roll call, Francois brought a fellow Frenchman to our place in the wood...a handsome, blue-eyed blond from Versailles named Guy de Moret; Abdullah brought an equally-handsome young man from Giza named Saeed Sheikh; Quo brought a slightly muscular and handsome guy from Shanghai named Zhang Li; Nikolai brought an extremely handsome young Russian from Irkutsk by the name of Yuri Chekhov; Christian, an attractive hazel-eyed blond from Oslo named Lars Smestad; Cao Li brought a handsome youth from the mountain region of Vietnam named Ho Linh Si; Stefan attached himself to a fellow from his hometown of Uppsala named Bjorn Lindfors; Brian came with a youth from Nottingham by the name of William Gordon; Pieter, a young man from Delft named Jan Van Dien; Akira, a youth from Hiroshima called Masayuki Tagawa; Aldo, a handsome, green-eyed young man from Sicily named Vittorio Palmieri; Paul brought a nineteen-year-old from Adelaide named Matthew Conners. I came with a young gymnast friend from the University of Central Florida (where I was now going to school), a handsome, well-built, green-eyed brown-haired youth named Ted Rosburgh. And, as we had done during our Boy Scout jamborees, we came to the spot dressed in mid-thigh shorts and below-the-calf socks and blue windbreakers.
Once again, we stood facing each other, looking each other up and down, gazing at what the other young man was offering for our palates. The newer members of the clique made a circle within our circle. We walked in opposite directions, stopping in such a way that no one Explorer would have the back of his fellow countryman's legs beneath their mouths. It was just my luck that Nikolai's friend Yuri would be the one who would be lucky enough to feel my lips and tongue. As we had done before, we knelt in the grass, tying the feet of the youth before us...and, as they fell face down, so did we with our mouths on their proffered legs. We revered and savored the feel and taste of foreign thighs, knees and calves in our hands and on our tongues and lips.
But, suddenly...my reverie was broken as I felt teeth biting deep into the back of my left knee. I turned and looked to see that it was Stefan's countryman, Bjorn, who had been the first to overstep the bounds of decency of our "fun and games". With Bjorn's teeth still clamped on my knee, I kicked him away and, painfully, rose to my knees. I reached for my ankles, loosened the binder that tied my feet together and rose to my feet. As I walked away from the others, Francois muttered in French. He loosened his binder, rose to his feet and ran over to me, removing his handkerchief and placing it against the back of my knee. I looked down and noticed that Bjorn had bitten deep...very deep.
That Swedish sonofabitch had actually drawn blood!!!
Blood ran down my left calf from a small puncture that Bjorn's eyetooth caused on the back of my knee. Normally, I wouldn't have minded this...but it was only the beginning of summer! I loved wearing my shorts to scout meetings. Now, because of one foreigner getting a little too anxious, I will have to wear slacks until the knee heals. God only knows how long that's going to take!
I got together with the founding members of our clique and within ten minutes we had reached a decision. Bjorn Lindfors had to be punished! And what better punishment could be imposed upon a shorts-loving scout than to be ousted from our clique? But first...the crucial "insult to injury". After pounding three stakes, triangularly, into the ground, Bjorn was then laid face down and tied to them...one hand to one each and his bound feet to the third. Then, standing over him, we exposed our tools and, gingerly, urinated on the back of his legs, partially saturating his shorts and socks. This was to be only the first part of his punishment.
After leaving him alone so that his legs could dry in the sun, we returned and, kneeling all around his prone figure, raised our hands and slapped the back of his exposed legs sharply with our palms till the skin turned red. This was the second part.
The third part of his punishment would, to me, be the best! Standing above him and, once again, exposing our tools, we rubbed them vigorously until the cum started to flow. Waterfalls of smooth, white "cream" gushed out, drenching his thighs, knees and calves, running in rivulets down the sides and onto the ground below. Then, kneeling beside his head, we forced Bjorn to lick the remaining cum from each tool before replacing them within our shorts.
But, the final part of the punishment would fall upon Stefan to impose...since Bjorn was his fellow countryman. As we all stood and backed away, Stefan removed his thick leather belt, raised it high above his head and cracked it down hard upon Bjorn's naked legs...one crack for each member, old and new. Soon, Bjorn's legs were thoroughly welted, looking like raw meat...and my bruised ego (and bloodied knee) had been satisfied.
Bjorn was untied and ordered not to return to the camp until the end of the day, after which he was to return to the city and use his plane ticket early to go home. But, I have it on good authority (actually, Stefan's) that Bjorn will not be coming back to attend any more jamborees. He quit the Explorers upon his return to Sweden. I guess he was either too ashamed to stay in the Explorers...or didn't like the sort of punishment he received from Stefan. Either way, Stefan never saw Bjorn again.
One thing I must be thankful about...the wound inflicted upon my knee left no permanent damage either to the skin or to the melanin within. After the scab came off, there was no scar to prove my knee had ever been bitten and the tan went back to normal.
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