Mister Red

Back in the day #1

Scoutmaster Murphy

My parents got divorced back in the early 1960s when there was a real stigma attached to divorce. So much so that my mom and I moved to a new town and she insisted I tell people that my father was dead. If anyone asked me any questions I was just supposed to say that I didn't want to talk about it.

It wasn't a happy time for me being twelve and starting over in a new place where I had no friends. I was shy and never found it easy to make friends. I look back now at pictures of myself and I can see that I was a really cute kid with athletic prowess, the kind of boy who should've been popular. But the constant fighting that led up to my parents' divorce had left me with no self-esteem. My father's abandonment of my mom and me made me feel worthless and desperate for attention from some man.

I had been in cub scouts some years earlier but hadn't continued. A well-meaning neighbor encouraged my mother to send me to the scout troop in town, and she introduced us to Mr. Murphy, one of the scoutmasters of that troop. Mr. Murphy was a retired policeman in his late-50s, who played Santa at every Christmas pageant in town thanks to his beer belly and cheery disposition. Being shy as I am I didn't want to go to the scout meeting, but Mr. Murphy was insistent and he drove me there. Once there he made me feel comfortable, introducing me around and making sure I participated.

After that first night I knew that I would enjoy scouts. The other thing after that first night was that I idolized Mr. Murphy. He drove me home from scouts since he lived right down the block from us and he told me stories that made his time as a cop seem very exciting and heroic. Also he knew how to hunt and fish and do all sorts of things that my real dad had never done in his life. On top of all that, Mr. Murphy seemed genuinely interested in me. He wanted to know what I was interested in and he encouraged me to speak. I thought he was the greatest.

My involvement with the scout troop meant time with Mr. Murphy and I didn't mind a bit. I had never known any grandparents and Mr. Murphy was like a grandfather to me. One night returning from a scout meeting I revealed to him that I was nervous about going on a camping trip. I had never been camping and I didn't know the first thing about any of it. I was scared I'd look foolish in front of the other boys. That's when he made the offer. He told me that he needed to check out new locations for camp-outs and if my mother approved he could take me along on a camping trip – just the two of us!

Mr. Murphy had told me that he wanted me to be his extra-special best buddy, but that I shouldn't tell any of the other boys or the leaders because they might be jealous. Going camping with Mr. Murphy without anyone else along – that proved he really meant it about me being special to him. My mother was delighted and relieved at the idea of a weekend without me, and Mr. Murphy even got me out of the last two hours of school so we could get an early start.

Mr. Murphy accompanied me into the boys' room because he wanted me to change into my scout uniform before getting in his car. I didn't think anything at the time of him watching me change clothes. But by the time I went to sleep that night I'd see Mr. Murphy in a very different light.

All the way up to the forest he kept smiling at me and touching me on the leg or on the shoulder. It made me feel uncomfortable but again I didn't think anything of that at the time.

He drove the car as far as he could on dirt roads and then we both put on our backpacks and headed up over a ridge. Looking back, Mr. Murphy had said he wanted me to go along with him to scout out new locations, but he seemed to know exactly where he was heading. It was an idyllic but overgrown area alongside a small hidden pond. As we were setting up the tent he told me that there was nobody around for miles. The thought that occurred to me at the time was that Mr. Murphy would keep me safe.

We shared some great moments. He showed me how to put up the tent, how to make the fire and how to cook over an open fire. He sat very close to me, our legs touching, as we toasted marshmallows. As he told me stories I found myself sitting in his lap. His arms were around me to keep me warm. There was something about the way he was holding me, about the way his hands went over my body, and about the way he was kissing my neck that made me feel creepy. At that time I never would've put a word like homosexual or pervy to what was happening – after all, Mr. Murphy was a retired policeman. Besides I was raised in an era when kids didn't question the actions of adults. Good kids always obeyed adults.

Then we went into the tent to sleep. Mr. Murphy zipped the two sleeping bags together and explained that this was the way we would keep warm. He told me that sleeping with your clothes on was the worst idea – your clothes would get cold and damp. You had to strip down and push your clothes to the bottom of the sleeping bag. That way when you pulled your clothes on in the morning they would feel warm.

I know Mr. Murphy had just seen me in my underwear when I changed clothes earlier that day, but undressing now in the tent felt very different. I became very aware that we were alone and that – as he had said – there was nobody else around for miles. I also became aware of the way Mr. Murphy was looking at me. He kept touching the tent in the front of his scoutmaster uniform pants. And I caught him licking his lips in a very strange way.

"What'sa matter, little buddy? Are you shy undressing in front of me?"

I shrugged my shoulders and mumbled, "I guess."

"Heheh, that's one of the things about scouts. It gets you comfortable with your boy stuff. I'm a scoutmaster so I've seen more young boy weiners than you can count."

Hearing this older man make reference to weiners was enough to make mine go totally stiff in my scout shorts. I looked over at him and he was just stepping out of his pants. He had a big tummy overhanging his boxer shorts and there was also a big tent in his boxer shorts. He was displaying his erection for me and he kept touching it.

I had my shirt off and I just stood frozen. He chuckled and said, "C'mon now, boy. Remember I was a cop. If I have to I can pin you and strip you myself."

Terrified he would actually do that, I stumbled out of my scout shorts and stood with my hands trying to hide the tent in my white briefs. I looked up at the man. He was flagrantly rubbing his erection slowly and the head of it was sticking out of one leg of his boxer shorts.

"For a boy as shy as you are, I think it would be good for you to take down your briefs as well."

In a small voice I asked, "Do I hafta?"

His voice was deep and commanding, "Yes you hafta."

I peeled down my white underpants trying to always keep one hand in front of my boycock. "Stop playing with it!" he snapped even as he continued to play with his.

My hands were at my sides and I'm sure my face was beet red from embarrassment. My penis was stiff as a little nail and sticking up against my flat tummy. There was no hair anywhere on my body. And I knew there was something wrong with the way Mr. Murphy was looking at my naked body and touching his hard cock through his boxers.

He ordered me to turn around and I did. Then in the dirtiest way he grumbled, "Mmmmmm, first night I took you to the troop meeting I wondered what you'd look like bare-ass bare-balls nekkid, boy." My mind was spinning. What did that mean? He had been so nice to me at that first meeting. Was he thinking then what I'd look like naked? And what did it mean for a grown up man to think about a young boy being naked? It was all beyond me.

Mr. Murphy commanded me to get into the sleeping bag and I was glad to be able to cover myself. He told me to lay in the bag facing him. Then he pushed down his boxers. His penis was thick and looked enormous to me. It stood out almost straight from his body and there was some wetness at the tip. He smiled down at me. He wanted me to look at it. I tried to look away.

Then the big man slid into the sleeping bag. He was facing me and I was facing him, so I felt his wet erection rub against my nakedness all the way down. Then his big tummy was pushing againt me. It was tight in the sleeping bag. He put one arm under my head and soon was pulling me against him. I felt his hairy chest against my smoothness. With his other hand he reached down for his stiff cock and was slowly playing with it, rubbing it against me.

His fingers grazed my boner. He smiled and whispered, "I bet you get stiff like this all the time." I blushed and he continued. "It's OK. One of the things you learn in scouts is that all twelve-year-old boys get stiffies all the time." He chuckled deeply. I started to think maybe this was OK, maybe this was something that scouts did with their scoutmasters?

Then he put my fingers on his hardon. It felt hot to my touch. His hand was over mine as he guided my fingers up and down. "Grip it a little tighter. You got it now, son?" He took his hand away and was no longer guiding me. "You're such a good boy. You're making your old scoutmaster feel good." By that time I was eager to be a good boy for Mr. Murphy.

He started tickling my stiffy. Soon he had my face on his hairy chest. He wanted me to lick his nipple. I didn't question why. I just did it. Soon I had both hands masturbating the fat old man and my lips on his chest. He had two fingers tickling my erection and his other hand was squeezing and feeling my hairless ass.

"Do you wanna be my extra-special best buddy?" he panted.

"Yes," I cried out with all sincerity.

"Rub my cock faster, boy," he commanded and I did as ordered.

Next thing I knew his tool was spewing cream all over my fingers. His hands now pulled at my cock and sqeezed it. He knew what he was doing. My small watery spunk dribbled out of me and I gasped.

That's when he kissed me full on the lips, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I was more confused than ever. This all seemed so wrong. But I was a good boy who always obeyed grown ups, especially an authority figure and a man I respected so much like Mr. Murphy.

I remember breathing in the smell of his hairy chest. Then I somehow fell asleep. The next morning when I woke alone in the sleeping bag I panicked. I was naked and I'd never before slept naked. I didn't see Mr. Murphy and had a fear I'd be alone and naked in the woods unable to find my way out. Oddly enough that fear made my dick fully stiff. I couldn't find any clothes so I wrapped the sleeping bag around myself and stuck my head out the flap of the tent.

Mr. Murphy was naked and preparing breakfast over an open fire. God, it was disgusting. He was bent over. His ass was in my face and I could see his hairy balls hanging down between his legs. Damn, even if I was gay I can't imagine anyone being turned on by this fat old man's balls. I told him I didn't have any clothes and he told me to come out of the tent naked. He said it would be good for me and get me over my hangups. I covered my penis with my hands and came out of the tent.

We sat side-by-side so that our legs touched. But this time we were both naked and he was purposely rubbing his leg against mine. He smiled at me and asked, "Isn't this refreshing being naked in the wild like this?" I just shrugged.

After eating we went swimming and he kept grabbing me under the water. I was laughing a lot and enjoying myself. I wasn't so aware of both of us being naked as we splashed around.

But then I found myself back on Mr. Murphy's lap. I could feel his half-hard penis rubbing against my smooth thighs. When he touched his lips to mine, I covered my mouth and mumbled, "I don't want to."

He touched my face and made me look at him as he asked, "Don't you wanna be my extra special best buddy?"

"Oh yes." I was so lonely and I felt like I was fatherless since the divorce. I loved that this older man was paying attention to me. And I hadn't yet realized the full price I would pay.

Mr. Murphy was going to take me through an initiation. He said this was an authenic Cherokee manhood ceremony and I believed him. Soon enough I found myself lying on my back with a blindfold over my eyes and my arms and legs hogtied in the air with rawhide strips.

Mr. Murphy was rubbing my bound body all over – feeling me up. Then I felt something nudging at my lips. "Give it a kiss." What was this? It felt fleshy and it smelled nasty. My tongue came out for a quick lick and I knew for sure it was the old man's penis. He was gruff. "Take it in your mouth." I whimpered but did as he said.

Soon I was sucking his cock. He was rambling on saying, "for a boy to become a man he has to be filled with the cream of an experienced warrior. I'm gonna feed you, boy." I didn't even figure out what he was talking about. At twelve I had started making a little wet stuff from my dick when I jerked off. But I didn't think of that as cream and I suppose I was trying to forget the wet load he left on my body the night before. Then he was pumping my mouth and saying, "I'm gonna shoot a big load of cream and you're gonna swallow every drop of it. It's good for you, boy. It's not like pee. It's pure protein. The Cherokees knew that boys needed man cream to grow up big and strong."

With that he rammed deeper into my throat and I felt his penis get even thicker and then shoot a wad of thick cream down my throat. I gagged but forced myself to swallow. There was so much of it I had to keep swallowing. But even as I did my best, it was spilling out of my lips.

I was gasping for breath and crying when he pulled out of my mouth. He quickly fumbled with the knots and pulled off my blindfold. Then he had my small naked form wrapped in his big arms. He was comforting me, kissing all over my face and saying soft soothing words. I suppose I was so desperate for affection and the attention of this man that his comforting made me feel warm and safe.

The weekend in the woods went on like that. When we got back home Mr. Murphy chatted with my mom and then the two of them told me that mom would be traveling to visit her sister the next month and Mr. Murphy had agreed to let me stay at his house for that week. I felt frozen and couldn't respond to the news. My mom said, "Well I thought you'd be happy!" I pretended to be happy. I couldn't think of any way to tell my mom I didn't want to spend time alone with Mr. Murphy.

During that week at his house Mr. Murphy tied me over a table and put his dick up my rear end. It hurt more than anything. But once again he comforted me and the comfort made me happy. This went on for the next two years until my mom got remarried and we moved to another state. I never again had any sort of sex with another male.

The End