The Telemachus Story Archive

Scouting for Boys
By Hooder

Scouting for Boys


I looked up suddenly from my book to see a pair of clear blue eyes gazing down at me from under a fringe of wheat-blond hair. I hadn’t heard him approach. “Oh hi. You startled me.”

He smiled. “Sorry. I was going to get some wood and I saw you.” There was a slight accent.

His slim body was naked apart from a string of small seashells around his neck – startlingly white against his tanned skin; a thin leather band around one wrist; and a pair of scuffed black lederhosen. Standing there in the dappled sunlight he looked like some sort of woodland elf. He was twirling a small purple wild flower in his fingers.

He saw me staring at his leather shorts. “I’m a scout,” he said by way of explanation. “I’m from Germany. On holiday over here with the local scouts.” He pointed over to the trees beyond us.

I put my book down. “Oh. Is there a camp over there?”

“Yep. It’s only used in the summer though.”

I’d lived over the road from this wood for years but I hadn’t known there was a scout camp in it. I offered him a can of coke. “Want one?” I picked up another for myself.

He took it with a nod of thanks and crouched down by my side. “Are those leather?” He was looking at my bike jeans.

“They are.”

“Are you a biker?”


“They’re very shiny.” After a moment he reached out a tentative hand and stroked his fingers over my thigh. I felt my cock jerk.

He giggled. “I saw that.”

I chuckled. “It does that sometimes,” I said.

He looked up at the trees. “I like this forest.”

“It’s a beautiful place. Are there other scouts here?”

“Not until tomorrow. I’m the one who gets the place opened up and the fire going. There’ll be six here tomorrow afternoon.”

I looked at his lederhosen. “I really like those shorts.”

He looked down at them. “Yeah. They’re nice. Wish they were shinier though.”

“I’ve never actually seen lederhosen before.” They weren’t tight, and there was a couple of inches of space between them and the smooth skin of his thighs. The bottoms of the short black leather legs were turned up. “Do scouts usually wear those in Germany?”

“Not all of them. Some.”

I nodded. “The leather looks stiff.”

“I suppose it is a bit. I should really oil them more than I do.”

“Do they feel good?”

“I like them a lot.”

“Sit down if you want.” I patted the long grass at my side. “You speak English very well.”

“We learn it at school from the start.”

He sat down, straightened his legs, and then carefully put the little flower down in the grass. He leaned back on his elbows. His eyes were still on my jeans.

“You’ve felt mine, so can I feel yours?”

He smiled. “Go ahead.”

I ran my fingers over the leather shorts, across the crotch.

“Cheeky,” he laughed.

There was no bulge to speak of – the stiff leather was probably squashing it flat, I thought.

We lay there for a while, sipping our cokes occasionally, then I felt him move closer. A hand reached over and stroked over my thigh again. It stayed there for a second, then retracted, his fingers brushing my bulge as it did so.

I stretched in pleasure; I was hoping to encourage him.

He didn’t say or do anything else for a time, but then the hand came back. This time it rested right on my bulge, the fingers motionless. Then he took it away again.

I rolled over so that I was facing him, then put my hand lightly on the inside of his thigh, just below the leg of his shorts. I moved my fingertips gently back and forth, caressing his skin.

He giggled quietly, then parted his legs, making the space between the shorts and his inner thigh wider. I moved my hand up slightly into the inviting darkness, stroking his skin just under the bottom of the shorts. I noticed that now there was a slight bulge higher up.

My hand went in a little further – and then I felt underpants. I took my hand out and lay back.

He was silent for a while, and then he said, “you can put your hand back if you like.”

I smiled. “I’m allergic to underpants.”

He considered this, a smile slowly forming on his lips, then he got up and disappeared into the trees. A minute later he was back, holding his pants. Grinning, he twirled them around his finger and dropped them on the grass. Then he lay down again – but not by my side – crosswise over my legs. His hand came to rest on my thigh, his fingers gently stroking it.

I sat up and looked at him. He was smiling at me, lying with his head to my left. The position he was in was pushing his crotch up. I ran my fingers over his shorts slowly, feeling the leather. It was warm from the sun, smooth, and quite thick. There was a slight bump of a bulge, and it was getting bigger as my hand continued to stroke the lederhosen.

I parted his knees and placed my right hand lightly on the inside of his closest thigh. My fingertips began to stroke and tease, and very slowly I slid my hand upwards until it disappeared under the shorts. His eyes were closed now, and he was moaning quietly in pleasure and moving his hips slightly as my fingertips very gradually got closer and closer to his balls.

When they finally arrived there he let out a loud giggle and clamped his thighs tightly around my hand. I kept my fingers still for a moment, and then began to tickle his balls. His body jerked again, and his hands came up reflexively, grabbing my arm.

“You don’t like that?” I asked.

“Yes, but it tickles!”

“I know it does,” I said devilishly - and tickled them again. He curled up into a giggling, convulsing ball.

I stopped, but left my hand there. “Ok. Put your arms behind your back, and imagine that they’re tied there. Imagine you’re handcuffed. Ok?”

“No!” He laughed. “You’ll tickle me again!”

I shook my head. “No. I won’t. Scout’s honour.”

He frowned dubiously for a moment, then he chuckled. “All right.” He was grinning as he moved his hands behind his back.

“Ok. Your feet are also tied together. You can’t move them.”

He nodded again. “Ok.”

“Now – remember, you’re tied up and you can’t use your hands or move your feet.”


This time I didn’t try to tickle him. He was still curled into a ball, but my hand was already up his shorts. I worked it further in and found his cock, which was pressing hard against the leather. He moaned quietly when I made contact with it. With one fingertip I stroked up and down the shaft. I wanted to get to the head but the shorts were making it difficult, so I hooked a finger around his cock and pulled it towards me. Now I had better access, I took it between two fingers and my thumb and massaged the head very slowly.

He let out a gasp and I knew he was about to cum, so I stopped. His hand came up urgently and he breathed, “no – don’t stop!” He was pumping his hips in an effort to get friction on his cock, but I held his hand away until he’d cooled down again.

Laughing, I pulled my hand out. “Relax.” We lay like that for a while, and then I repositioned him so that he was kneeling astride my legs. I gently pulled him down on top of me. God, this boy was beautiful, I thought. His deep blue eyes were looking at me from below the fringe of thick blond hair, and the string of sea shells around his neck looked sexy against his golden skin. As I very slowly pulled his head down towards mine, he was smiling. His lips were as soft as silk as we kissed gently. He smelled slightly of trees. His firm body felt gorgeous on top of me, and I ran my hands all over him, feeling his naked back and shoulders, stroking the nape of his neck, running them through his hair and down to glide over his round, smooth black leather bum - and further, as far as I could reach, over the backs of his silky thighs. His hands were around my neck. We kissed for a long time, lying there in the long grass in the warm spring sunshine.

After what seemed like hours, I rolled him off me until he was lying on his back by my side, then I parted his knees as wide as possible and slid my hand back up his shorts. I found his hard cock again and just held it gently as I rolled towards him and kissed him again. He put his hand on my crotch, his fingers beginning to explore over the shiny leather, sliding down now and then between the tops of my thighs and stroking along my perineum before returning to the now clearly-defined bulge of my rock-hard cock. Inside his shorts his own hard cock was pointing down towards the leg opening, pushed up tight against the leather over it. I touched my fingers gently to the exposed underside of the head, on the ridge, and moved them forwards and backwards.

He gasped. He was squeezing and rubbing my bulge, and I could feel that again he was very close to cumming, so I slowed my fingers. After a few seconds I took my hand out and ran it over his round leather bum; it felt gorgeous. I lifted the boy up so that he was kneeling astride my legs. I lay back. “Get to know my leather jeans.”

He bent forwards, his hands stroking the outsides of my thighs lovingly, and he started to lick and kiss my hard bulge, breathing in the smell of the leather. Then he brought one hand up and squeezed my cock through my jeans at the same time. I let him do this for ages.

Eventually I rolled him off me and knelt beside him, looking down at him. “I think I’m gonna make this boy scout cum in his leather shorts.”

His eyes opened wide in surprise. “In them? No!”

“In them. It would be better if I’d got you tied up and blindfolded, but we have to work with what we’ve got.” I pounced on him. He struggled and fought, giggling and laughing like crazy, but I got both hands under his shorts - one up the leg and the other down inside the waist. He’d curled up tight again to protect himself – it must have felt very invasive - but wherever he moved I tickled his balls and worked on the head of his cock. He couldn’t get away from me. A few seconds later his body stiffened, he let out a loud gasp, and I felt him start to cum. I kept on milking him until every last drop of his spunk was coating the inside of the lederhosen, and my fingers were sliding in it.

When it was over and we’d got our breath back, I handed him his can of coke again. I guessed that the boy was feeling embarrassed right now, and I didn’t want to make that worse. “You’d better go and clean up – and light that fire,” I smiled.

He returned the smile, though his face was red, and picked up his underpants.

“I’ll be here for a while, so if you feel lonely, you know where I am.”

Without saying anything he padded off into the trees. I considered having a wank right there and then, but I didn’t, just in case he came back. Instead I picked up my book again, hoping that my raging erection would subside.

I gazed up into the green treetops and breathed in the scent of the forest. Down here there was no wind at all, but up in the canopy the small branches were moving gently, dappling the light. It was beautiful. After a while I started to read again.

In less than half an hour I heard his footsteps. Without a word, he sat down by my side and lay back in the grass that was already flat from his first visit, eyes closed, his hair falling over them in a long fringe. I ran my gaze over his body; he really was a stunningly beautiful boy.

This time I got with my booted feet scissored around his legs and his wrists trapped underneath him. He was moaning at the feel of my bike jeans against his bare skin. I lowered the two zips of his lederhosen and took his cock into my mouth. Over the next twenty minutes I sucked him off very, very slowly, with many stops when he was close.

“What I would like to do,” I said after he’d cum in my mouth, “is get you tied down helpless, then spend a long time oiling and polishing those shorts very slowly. Before edging you out of your mind, fucking you senseless, and sucking you off again.”

He opened one eye and squinted at me. “Do you live around here?”

I pointed in the direction of my house, which was on the other side of the wood, hidden by the trees. “Yep. Over there.”

“Do you have the facilities?” He asked.

“Indeed I do,” I said.

“And any more leather?”

“Oh yes. And lots of restraints to keep a struggling boy helpless...”

He giggled, then opened the other eye. “Well then, why are we lying here?” He asked.