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As the River Rises

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About an amazing true adventure.


When the river rises. A true story.

Firstly let us introduce ourselves, us being Mark, Luke and your storyteller Shean. We have been best friends since we were twelve years old. We are a group of Scottish lads, who grew up next door to each other, went to school together and joined the scouts together.

The story starts with us leaving our scout hut with ten other boys for summer camp, two weeks away from our parents, school and most of all Scotland (we love our home country, but it's very cold and wet).

We were heading towards a farm just below Keswick in the sunny North West of England. After a pretty uneventful journey we all arrived and the excitement kicked in. The tents went up, and the exploring began. However, this was to be cut short by a surprise challenge from our scoutmaster, 'Right lads,' he said 'Get into groups of three, grab a Burgan {ed - see below} and get lost, I challenge you to survive overnight on your own in the woods.!'

A collective 'COOL' was heard and off we went the three of us, as deep into the woods as we could. It was great, although we were just a few K's from base camp it felt like the middle of the wilderness, the three explorers wandering off to set up camp before dark.

The spot we found seemed ideal. It was stunning, a small bay on the edge of the stream, overhung by trees and surrounded on all sides by thick woodland. It was beautiful and perfect for setting our imaginations running wild. We sat on the edge of the stream and tipped out the Burgan. It's contents; a reel of thick string. Two double survival bags, a pocket knife, sausages, beans and bread. Butter and a few bars of kendal mint cake and a torch. There were two billys (small pans) and a set of mess tins. The night had the potential of being amazing.

We set to work constructing our shelter; this was achieved by cutting one of the survival bags into a large sheet and hanging it in a tent shape over a length of string between two trees. Pegging it out with twigs to make the classic V shaped tent. To us it seemed perfect, sited just on the edge of the river it was idyllic. This however was disobeying all our training and proved disastrous later on that night.

Happy with our camp we set about enjoying ourselves, we swam in the stream, lit a fire, and played football with a billy, best day of our lives. We were like the lost boys. Not a care in the world.

As the sun went down we finished our supper and headed to the shelter of our bivouac. Ignoring what we had been told the week before in training we laid our sleeping bags out on the floor and got in fully clothed. Wrecked from a days surviving we all fell asleep after just a few minutes. This was a mistake, our training the week before had covered the following. Firstly never pitch camp next to a river, it may rise during the night then you get wet! Secondly never sleep in just your sleeping bag, sleep inside a survival bag then inside your sleeping bag, that way you are waterproof and warm, and thirdly don't sleep in your clothes, during the day they absorb moisture from sweat and the air, during the night it cools and therefore cools you.

It was a scorching hot night, and very humid. About midnight we had a thunderstorm. We were all woken and sat through the rain, it was pouring it down, it made everything look really spooky, but cool. Unable to sleep we sat up discussing things, mainly girls. All of a sudden we all got the same feeling 'AHHHH' the river had risen up and over the log we had planted at the bottom of our shelter, it poured in soaking our sleeping bags, clothes and wood supply for our fire. What a disaster. We crawled out of the bivvy grabbing the burgan, lucky it was waterproof and had saved us a survival bag and a few mint cakes a torch and our cameras. We sat on a log in the pouring rain, drenched! We all looked miserable.

I have a few photos of this trip. The best one is of Mark and Luke sitting on the log in the rain looking really miserable, but incredibly cute. Everyone who has seen this photo remarks, 'Aww weren't you all cute'

We sat for ten minutes or so discussing our option, to return to camp would mean failing our survival challenge, but to sit out in the rain all night didn't sound pleasant, we spent a little while retrieving our now useless sleeping bags and jackets, the bivouac was ripped down and moved up into the woods and reset, we sat under it sulking. After a while we were all yawning, tiredness was taking over so we got the spare survival bag out, stripped to our boxers and all three of us got inside the bag together. Sharing body heat the bag was soon as warm as we had been before the flooding.

We lay together and the sleepy discussion got round to wanking. Mark who was the oldest asked if we both knew about it, we did and had all tried it ourselves in the past. Mark suddenly lifted the top of the bag and said 'look down,' Luke and myself looked down to see Mark had removed his boxers and had a hard on, he was bigger than me, maybe five inches and had a few strands of hair around the base. He started pumping his fist up and down, then he dropped a challenge, 'last to cum has to lick his own cum up.' After a few seconds both myself and Luke realised we had to join in, all three of us were now lying there naked pumping away.

Mark came first, spurting all over the inside of the bag; it covered all of us, soon after I came with the same effect. Luke now looked worried, just as he shot his load he asked 'do I really have to lick it?' 'YES' yelled Mark, but Luke was in tears. I stood up for him telling him he didn't have to but if he chose to I would do it too. Guess what he chose?

Luke and I went down inside the bag and licked a mouthful of cum up each off the bag and off each others chests, coming up Mark made sure we swallowed it, I didn't like it but Luke seemed to find it quite tasty.

We all fell asleep in the bag, not bothering to get out and clean up. We woke the following morning at 6:30ish the rain had subsided we crawled out naked to a fantastic sunny morning, covered in last nights goo we all went down to the ice cold river and skinny-dipped to wash off, the birds were singing it was amazing. We set about getting ready to head back to camp. We were due back at 12 noon. We vowed we would all stay naked until then. We managed to get a fire going and cook some breakfast of sausages and mint cakes (all that was edible after the flood.) After breakfast I went about ripping the bivouac down, packing the shelter survival bag away and washing the other out in the river, removing all evidence of the night before. I still have the bag, I took it home with me after camp and have kept it ever since.

When I got back to the fire I found Luke and Mark sitting next to each other giving each other handjobs. I sat on the floor in front of them joining in, Mark stopped and knelt in front of me, he touched the tip of my swollen dick and jacked me gently. I very quickly blew my load and told me it was his way of apologising for the licking punishment, he then set to work on Luke, being the youngest he was the smallest only about four inches, Mark was rubbing his whole dick in his hand, Luke let himself go. All three of us sat next to the dying fire, we packed the Burgen, put on our wet clothes and started the long walk back to camp.

This was the first and last time I have ever done anything with another man, Luke and Mark had a few more times together. It turns out Mark and his brother Alan had been into jacking each other off from the age of nine or ten.

All three of us are now happily married with kids, our wives have all heard this story (and even suggested we should all go away and reinact it, but with the six of us. I'm game if they are!)

It is our most memorable childhood memory.



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