Antelope Patrol, Part 2

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We kept Antelope Patrol's jerk off club going for, the best I can now determine, eight months, give or take a month. It lasted basically one school year, from fall of 1966 through the spring of 1967. Once there were maybe six of us in a beautiful meadow on one of our weekend campouts, jacking off while hidden among the tall grasses. Another time it was just Barry and me walking away from camp until we found some privacy. Occasionally boys from the rest of the troop would join the Antelope Patrol for one of our meetings, as when Barry brought his buddy, Mike, into the club, but we kept our jerk off club pretty tight, basically down to our patrol. Mike was in fact the first troop member outside of the Antelope Patrol to be added to our club. I'm not counting boy #4 from our first skinny dipping experience. I don't think he ever joined us again. At least I don't remember a guy who beat off with his left hand ever in the club. Who knows? A left handed guy might have been enough to get us to try mutual masturbation.



Just kidding. If it isn't obvious by now, mutual masturbation wasn't our thing. We just enjoyed jerking off and watching each other jerk off. Upon occasion we would stimulate each other but those sessions, while great fun, were not the rule. And admittedly, a few times we came close to making each other cum. But much more commonly, we'd jack off from scratch and found it exhilarating to be with other boys who were doing the same. In the best meaning possible, I think the Alpine Patrol was a childish way to discover sex. While you did it to yourself, the other boys' feelings were involved. You had to take the other guys into consideration and yet you weren't really having sex with them. Our club was a way to learn some of the lessons that would be important when we later had real sex partners in bed with us. Here we were having sex with ourselves while other boys around us were having sex with themselves. And yet we were connected emotionally and physically. It wasn't quite like having a gerbil before you have a puppy but that's close.



Plus it was fun.



For Mike's initiation, we climbed a mountain. Barry had found the spot earlier on that camping trip. This trip, because of a holiday, was one of our few three day campouts. We hiked in on Friday and came out on Sunday. That gave us extra time to explore. Barry, with another guy in the troop, had decided the first afternoon to climb the mountain overlooking the canyon we camped in. On the topo map, there was a trail. It turned out a section of the trail existed only on the map and not on the mountain. Barry and his friend got lost going up and it turned their hike into a very strenuous climb. They almost turned back but eventually they made it to the top. Once there, Barry saw something in addition to the view that he liked. Upon returning to the camp, Barry poured over the topo map. He saw where they got lost and how it was actually a relatively easy climb to the top. He kept that to himself. He wanted privacy. Barry then announced we'd have a club meeting on the mountain. Earlier, Barry had asked us if it was OK for his buddy, Mike, to join our club, telling us a secret you'll find out about later, and we had said yes. The next day, basically a free day, we told the leaders we were going back up to the top of the mountain. Word of the previous day's hard climb had filtered through the troop and the leaders wanted to make sure we knew what we were doing. We said yes. They said go. We packed lunches, a bunch of canteens and basic supplies into a couple of daypacks and headed off. The group was Dave Fields, Stookey, Barry, Mike and me. It was a hot day and soon we all had shed our shirts. Otherwise we all wore that 60's staple, cut off jeans. The current fashion was for your boxers to be visible below the frayed edge of the pants' leg and being the cool teenagers we were, we all had that look. We filled up the canteens at the last reliable water and continued to the top. Barry made all the right turns and surprisingly quickly, after only maybe a couple of hours, we were on top of the mountain. The view was spectacular. It was a brilliantly clear day and we could almost see our home town. We easily found the road we drove in on and the trailhead from where we had started hiking. We couldn't see our camp, hidden behind a ridge, but we thought we located a campsite we'd been at the previous year down another canyon. We ate our lunch and imagined we threw the apple cores for miles. Afterwards, Barry said, let me show you something.



We gathered up our gear and walked off the summit. Maybe a hundred feet down the side we discovered what had caught Barry's eye. It was a small bowl with the only grove of pine trees on the mountain's peak. Underneath the pines it was shady and cool. There were rocks and fallen trees to sit on. Most importantly, we had both privacy and from one spot a perfect view of a long stretch of the trail up the mountain. We would notice anybody coming well before they reached us. We dropped our packs. We then stood around nervously. Barry took over. Barry stood in front of Mike, putting both of his hands on Mike's shoulders. Barry asked Mike if he knew what our club did. Mike said yes. Barry made him say the words. You guys jack off...together, Mike hesitantly replied. Barry asked if he wanted to join us. Mike said yes. Barry asked if Mike would be willing to be the first one to jack off today if he could join the club. Mike again said yes. Mike was not hesitant with that answer. I knew he had been expecting the question. Barry had warned Mike he'd be required to jerk first for his initiation. Clueing in Mike had been Barry's idea and it was a good one. It just made things go more smoothly. Barry had us all gather around Mike, getting us in close enough to smell his sweat. Mike was dark and Italian, with short curly black hair and a muscular build for a fourteen year old. We all knew Mike was one of the best baseball players in our town, a guy who could play any position, even catcher. He looked it. Barry removed his hands from Mike's shoulders. We stood around Mike, nothing happening. Barry let this moment last for quite a while. Mike started to get anxious, glancing around nervously, when Barry suddenly clamped his right hand down on the top of Mike's cutoffs, grabbing them roughly at the beltline. Barry yanked up hard, then down harder, on Mike's cutoffs as he ordered their owner to put his hands on top of his head. I could see Mike's eyes and they told me this part was unexpected. Skipping a beat, Mike complied. Barry unbuckled Mike's belt and then the buttons down the front of his cutoffs, letting the pants fall to the ground. Barry told Mike to kick off his cutoffs. Barry picked them up and put them on a rock behind him. Raising his hand to Mike's boxers, Barry first grabbed and then definitely squeezed Mike's package. Barry again asked Mike if he wanted to join our club. His eyes now closed, Mike just nodded. Barry put his hands on Mike's torso and had us do the same. He then told Mike to turn around in a circle very slowly. As Mike did that, we all felt up the part of his body in front of us, from his neck down to his waist. I remember seeing he had underarm hair and a large scar on one of his shoulder blades. His strong upper back, thin waist, flat stomach and nipples all got a good workout but I was most fascinated with something I'd seen earlier that day. Mike had chest hair. Black chest hair. None of us had chest hair yet, not even Dave. I'm sure we all ran our hands through that. Eight hands roaming his body had an effect and Mike's dick made a premature appearance, its head popping up though the waistband of his boxers, which had crept way down through the events. Stookey, who was in front of Mike at that moment, impulsively ran his finger over the tip of Mike's prick-we all heard Mike groan-and then pulled Mike's boxers back up, saying his dick should stay inside for now. After Mike turned completely around, again there was a pause while we all stood there. It was broken by Barry sticking his arm now inside Mike's boxers and after grabbing a handful, once again asking his friend if he wanted to join. The answer was more of a grunt than a yes but the message was delivered. Barry pulled Mike's underwear down and off, putting them with his cutoffs. Barry again told us to put our hands on Mike and for him to turn around once more. I dropped to one knee as did others. I started off with Mike's right side in front of me and since he was rotating to his left, the first thing to pass in front of me was Mike's butt. Without an ounce of fat anywhere on his body, Mike's butt was the definition of firm. His cheeks were deeply dimpled. I have to admit I slapped both cheeks a couple of times. I also remember other guys doing it. No hard spanking but, I mean, Mike's butt was right there. What were we supposed to do? Even more surprising than seeing Mike's chest hair was noticing hair on his butt. Dark black strands of hair. None of the other boys had hair on their butts. While I'm sure I spread Mike's cheeks to look at his butt hole (I don't remember), I didn't go there. That was a dirty place and didn't hold any fascination for me. I did reach in from behind and surprised Mike by scratching the area right behind his nuts. I wished I could see Mike's eyes now. Instead, I felt him clamp his thighs down against my hand and heard him gasp a couple of quick breaths. Actually, Mike was sighing a lot by this point. Continuing to watch Mike turn, I appreciated his athletic body the most from the side. He had a bold chest and a tiny waist. Most fourteen year olds look more like children than adults. Not Mike. He looked like a college guy, only shrunk down. It would be scary to see how good he looked in a few years after he filled out. Finally his crotch came into my view. His boner stuck straight up, exposing his smallish nuts, which hung low on this warm day. They were covered with pubic hair. I revisited the tender spot right behind Mike's nuts with my finger tips. He shivered and groaned. I looked up, trying to catch Mike's eyes. They were shut but his mouth was open. Looking just at his face, you would believe he was in pain. I fondled Mike's nuts, feeling each within his sack, squeezing the skin taut between them. His dick bounced. Mike's pubic hair was as thick as Dave's but solid black. It was already starting to spread to his legs and he had a trail of hair up to his belly button. I ran my hand through his pubes, wishing they were mine. Mike's dick, dark in color, wasn't either particularly long or wide. After pulling his prick down and stroking it gently with my fingers while inspecting it-Mike moaned for me here-I let it slap back up against his stomach. Avoiding the pre-cum on his slit as I really didn't want to touch that, I lightly ran my finger around the head of his dick and then followed the bottom vein down to his nuts. Mike gasped loudly and his knees started to buckle. I jumped back, thinking he was about to cum on me. Reflexively, so did everyone else. I explained what I'd seen and Barry decided it was time. He told Mike to take his hands off his head and threw him a canteen. Barry started removing his own cutoffs. The rest of us followed suite. We were all ready to cum.



Soon the four of us joined Mike naked although everyone understandably kept their boots on. Mike looked far better after some water and a short time out. We stood around while the rest of us took hits off the canteen. I could see Mike checking us out. No secrets here. Mike laughed and said he'd never seen so many hard-ons before. We each had one. Barry directed us to an area where we could sit down. Mike stood in front of Dave, Stookey and me. Barry sat to the side. Barry then ordered Mike to jerk off. Mike pulled down on his boner and started jerking it slowly. Maybe because Barry wasn't beating his dick, neither did the rest of us. Quickly Mike sped up his stroke and began breathing heavily. His left hand stayed at his side and he stared down at his dick, never looking at his audience. Barry told Mike to slow down. While Mike did, it wasn't long until he sped up again, now swaying on his feet, his strokes more forceful and punctuated with loud grunts. Commands to slow down after that just meant Mike grunted more softly. Soon Mike raised his head, screaming Hell Yeah, and came with a tremendous blast. Mike continued to grunt as he spurt out ropes of spunk, some even hitting my boot, maybe five feet away. He slowed his dick stroke but sperm kept coming, now dripping down to the ground. Mike didn't stop jacking as much as he simply wound down. He stumbled over to a rock and collapsed, his head hanging down and breath deep and steady.



We should have applauded but our hands had other business to attend to. It was now our turn to jerk off, or so we thought. Mike never really lost his boner and after the shortest of breaks, he joined us in jacking. Mike wasn't done yet. The first one of us to cum was Barry and the only reason I remember that is how he came. The rest of us were sitting there, quietly jerking away, minding our own business, when Barry, who had been rocking back and forth and sighing heavily while he was beating off, suddenly rose to his feet and started whooping it up while still pulling on his pud. I lost my concentration and started laughing. Barry looked like a loon dancing around, his left hand up in the air, his right jacking his dick for all he was worth, yelling and twirling. All arms, legs and hollers, Barry came, spunk flying everywhere. By now we were all laughing so hard we didn't care if he hit us. He finished up. We were simply giggling by the time Barry walked over to me and got right down in my face. Cocking his head sideways and thrusting his hand up between our noses, Barry leisurely began licking his fingers. Yes! I'm sure they heard our laughter back in camp as Barry danced away, sucking his thumb. Eventually we got back to business. Dave, Stookey, and I came more conventionally. Afterwards, I remember us passing around a canteen, relaxing, watching Mike finish jerking off. After Mike came, much less violently than before, he used some pine needles to wipe off the tip of his dick as I passed the canteen to him.



We hung out, enjoying walking around outside in the nude, exploring our hiding place. After a while it was obvious we all wanted to beat off again. At that point Mike spoke up, asking Barry if he could suggest something. Before he could answer, Mike said nobody is coming, right? We checked the trail. It was empty. It had been all day. Mike started walking out of the bowl. We glanced at each other, puzzled. He was obviously walking back to the summit. Barry yelled his name and Mike just shouted, come on and bring a canteen. We did both. There really was nobody else around. We reached the summit to find Mike standing on the highest boulder, his eyes closed and his arms spread wide, turning slowly around in a circle. Hearing us, he jumped down and grabbed the canteen, taking a long drink. Far out was all he said. I had to agree. I felt excited, being naked on the top of a mountain, exposed as I was. From the way the other guys were acting, with Dave now on the highest rock, they obviously felt the same way. After a few minutes of showing off my dick to the world, I sat down where we had eaten lunch. I had been playing with myself while we were walking around and by this time I had a hard-on. I was not alone. Even better than being naked on the top of a mountain is having a boner while naked on the top of a mountain. We all started to beat off. It was a long, slow jerk off session for us. Nobody wanted this end. It was invigorating. When I felt myself start to cum, I'd let go of my dick and watch the others instead. Mike was in front of me, lying back flat on a rock, this time using his left hand to help out his right. He was moaning softly. Mike was definitely vocal when he jacked. Stookey was sitting on top of the highest boulder, jacking, while seemingly enjoying the view. He wore a Stookey grin. A jagged smile, it was higher on one side than the other. It also twitched in a very endearing manner. Barry was standing up on top of another rock, proudly jerking away like he was in the shower, with nothing to hide. Dave walked by me, going somewhere, his dick sticking out and leading the way. As he passed me, he reached down with his hand and gave my prick a solid tug. Oh my. This wasn't helping me not to cum. My break over, I went back to lightly fingering my meat. I kept my stroke slow, enjoying the moment. A warm contentment filled my being. I managed to stay there for quite a while, on the edge of an orgasm, floating above the mountain, my hair getting straight and my toes getting curly. After increasing my beat, I tried once again to cool it and bask in the glow. This time that wasn't happening. Instead, I sped up to find a more intense heat. I pounded my dick hard, twisting and rocking my body like water on a roiling boil. The warmth building within me became a red hot moan. Yeaaahh... I stopped breathing as I came. All that existed was this fire spurting cum from my every pore. The afterglow burned for quite a while. It was an awesome orgasm, one of my favorites ever. Since then I have made it a point to jerk off on the top of any mountain I've climbed if it was at all possible. I'd recommend it.



After we finished, we sat there for probably longer than we should have, with no suntan lotion and lots of exposed virgin skin. Then we heard a voice. Startled, we glanced at each other. We heard the voice again. We panicked and as one, ran back down to our hiding spot. We hadn't needed to worry. From there we determined that while people were coming up the mountain, they were still a mile away. In fact, they probably had a better view of us noisily scampering down the mountain side to the bowl than when we were up on the peak. We wondered if they had seen us. Finishing our water, we got dressed. Dave recommended we put our shirts on because of the bright sun and we all did. We soon met the people on the trail as we hiked down. A man and a woman, we immediately understood from the way they said hello that yes, they had seen five naked boys running down a mountain. If they only knew.



While this was a particularly memorable Antelope Patrol club meeting, most of the big ones took place under similar circumstances. The primary time for our jerk off club to meet was on one of our monthly Scout campouts, usually away from camp. One campout meeting was another skinny dipping session, this time on a sandy beach on a bend in a river. That time was memorable for two reasons. First, it was a big group. Maybe there were eight boys there, pretty much a full house for our jerk off club. Secondly, it lasted so long. Most of our club meetings were quick. We'd go to a place, jerk off, and leave before we got caught. This one was relaxed. It seems like we were there for much of the afternoon although my memory could be faulty. I do remember it wasn't organized. Usually at our meetings we'd all jack off together. This time if you wanted to beat off, you just did. There was a secluded place off the river, behind some bushes and rocks, where you'd go if you wanted to jerk. Boys would disappear back there for a while. I remember beating off in this hideaway with Dave and having two other boys (Don and somebody else-I can't tell you who) join us in the middle of our session. I wasn't used to having somebody walk in on me in the middle of jerking off. I also remember sitting on the beach and watching Mike and his buddy Curt, who you'll meet shortly, standing face to face, knee deep in the river, when they reached out and casually started playing with each other's soft pud. The moment only lasted for a few seconds before they went to the hideaway.



Our meetings weren't exclusively outside, away from camp like this. A couple of times we tried to get together in a tent after dark but it was tough because of lights out and other people around. We only really succeed once and that was because it was raining. The rain dampened the noise, foot traffic and bed checks. A tent meeting also could only happen on a car camping trip when we used the Baker tents, which were maybe half of our campouts. When we hiked in our gear, we slept in a Boy Scout classic: the Pup tent, with a center poles front and back forming a ridge down the middle and the tent's cloth sides sloping to the ground. The front doors and the back wall were triangles. Ropes stretched down from the front and back tent poles to stakes, holding the tent up. I still know my taut line hitch. This was state of the art in the mid 1960's. Nylon tents held up by springy fiberglass poles hadn't been invented yet. These cloth tents barely held two people so a club meeting was out.



It wasn't quite a club meeting, but if we were bunking with each other, a jerk off session before we went to sleep was an Antelope Patrol staple. We'd be doing it if we were home alone in our own beds. As I often shared a tent with either Barry or Stookey, we became jerk off buddies, although I didn't know the term. These were just my friends who also liked to beat off. With Barry, it was straight forward. After lights out, we'd pull open our sleeping bags and simply jack off next to each other, listening to the other guy beat his meat while doing the same, catching a glimpse in the darkness if you could. Sometimes we'd strip but more often than not we'd just pull our dicks out of the fly of our boxers. This was a different Barry than the one on the mountain top. Here was a quiet boy who just liked to jack off in private, except that we happened to be doing it together. Barry and I tried to beat off in the morning if there was time before the camp woke up, the sun lighting up the inside of the tent and our morning wood priming the machinery. I liked these morning sessions a lot. If I woke up after sunrise and the camp was still quiet, I'd 'accidentally' wake up Barry. One morning I persuaded Barry to strip and sit facing me in the tent. We both sat cross-legged, our knees touching, while we leisurely jacked off, watching each other in the early morning light. I remember this session fondly. While Stookey would join me for a quiet late night jack when we shared a tent, similar to the times with Barry, Stookey liked to play. Me, too. If our tent was set up far enough away from others, Stookey and I would strip down after lights out and lie on top of our sleeping bags, rolling over on our sides so that we faced each other. We'd then play a game. Stimulating each other, the first one to get a boner had to jack off any way the other guy wanted him to. It was a great game because if you lost a round, you were almost certain of winning the next one. We never made the other guy do anything really weird. Our pranks were more of the 'jerk off with your left hand' variety. At least once, we each made the other guy beat off outside the tent. Not content to just watch me lick my fingers, Stookey once made me swallow a load of my spunk. Nothing new here. I made him do it. Now there was news. One time Stookey had me start jerking off with his head between my legs, his nose inches from my nuts. After a bit, he moved so his nose was now over my belly button with him looking south. My version of that was once I had him jack off while I lay on my back and he sat on my chest, his dick right in my face. Never had I seen a guy beat off so close. I told him if he didn't catch all of his spunk I'd kill him. (This actually was not that big a deal. While I certainly didn't want Stookey to blast in my face, we got used to getting hit with each other's cum. It happened in the cramped quarters where we often jerked off. We'd just wipe it off and carry on.) Sometimes, lying there naked together, we'd just stroke each other's body and not worry about who got hard first. Stookey had such a fine tiny body, solid and compact. While we certainly played with each other's crotch-it was from Stookey that I learned about the area right behind a guy's nuts-we stroked the rest of the other guy's body at least as much if not more. It was very soothing and wonderful. I felt comforted being touched by Stookey. Boys normally roughhoused; Stookey and I caressed. Obviously none of the other boys in the club knew of our play; it would have definitely been considered queer. That distinction was irrelevant to Stookey and me. We both seemed to thrive on the physical contact. I can remember the night we touched and stroked each other's face and head forever. It was really intense. Stookey would grin and I'd just want to run my fingers across his soft cheeks, lips and chin. I think the only reason we didn't kiss after that was the same reason we didn't jerk each other off after one of these sessions. Don't think thoughts of a mutual jack off didn't sometimes float through Stookey's and my tent. I know I considered it. I'm sure Stookey did, too. (Being boys, we didn't talk about it.) We definitely got right up to the edge of jerking each other off multiple times. It was just a line we wouldn't cross. Instead, after touching and rubbing each other for a while, and often becoming exceptionally turned on, we'd lie back and beat our own meat. We'd cum quickly and emotionally. That worked, too.



The Antelope Patrol's jerk off club also had some meetings in town. Near Barry's house there was a new bridge over a culvert and beneath one of its ends there was a perfect clubhouse. The dirt hadn't been filled back in and there was a low slung room under the concrete bridge into which you could easily fit a half a dozen boys, totally hidden from view. Somebody had left a stack of dirty magazines in there. One afternoon we started with a normal patrol meeting at Barry's house but then we went under the bridge to jerk off together. We had to be quick and discreet as all the other kids in the neighborhood also knew about this hiding place. Another afternoon we had a patrol meeting at Stookey's house. His mom was away and because of no-shows, it was just Dave, Stookey and me. That time was as close as a regular club meeting got to mutual masturbation. We played a game of strip poker which quickly resulted in us all getting naked. The three of us then sat around in a circle, playing with each others dicks, making each other hard. While we each went back to our own dick to finish off, before that there was a lot more of pulling on another guy's boner than there was any other time. At one stretch all three of us were stroking up and down on an erection not our own. I think I know what would have happened if we had ever repeated that game, line or no line.

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