A Good Little Church Boy

Having been depressed again recently, I thought I would get some more down on the Blog. I stopped having counselling a few months a go, but I found that getting it off my chest did help It's taken me a while to want to do this so here goes.

Church On Sunday

My Father always insisted that we attend Church on Sunday, unless we were away such as the holidays already mentioned. If I was at camp we had a service anyway and if it was Remembrance Sunday or St Georges day, I would attend Church with my Scout troop.

Our local Church was a fairly modern C of E building.. My Father despite his ideas was in no way a Catholic, despite his beliefs about 'sin', but every Sunday, come rain or shine, my Brother and I would put on a tie, sometimes our school uniform, but always in a shirt and trousers and walk to Church. The only time I ever remember being driven was when my mother was alive.

Our Vicar throughout my childhood years was a man called Mr Vincent. He was probably in his late forties as I remember him, dark, greying hair with quite a long-ish bushy beard which could vary in length. Sometimes it was quite long and halfway down his chest. He wasn't fat but more expanded in the waist and when he wasn't wearing his dog collar, he would wear a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows.

The other thing I recall about him was he had terrible dandruff and when he wore his black shirt it would be covered in flakes from his scalp and from his beard. He was never married that I knew of but lived on his own in a large old Vicarage behind overgrown shrubs and trees.

We would usually sit as a family when I was younger, presumably so my Father could keep an eye on us, but later on after my Brother had left home, I would usually be allowed to sit wherever I wanted, with Nathan as his parents went to the same Church, and we would try for the back pews, or at least as far back as decency permitted.

Unless my Father was angry with me or building up to one of his explosions, Nathan and I would meet inside the Church and take a pew together.

I remember nothing of Mr Vincent's sermons, I probably wasn't listening as Nathan and I would whisper to each other and muck about as quietly as possible, always standing when a hymn was called, although perhaps not singing and trying to avoid the gaze of the Vicar as he stood elevated by his pulpit.

Again if my Father was in a good mood, Nathan and I would walk back together, sometimes to his house, sometimes to mine through the park. If his parents were going somewhere without him, there would be opportunity for us to masturbate together in his room.

Masturbation was my  main 'sin' in my teens.

None of this would be possible if my Father was in a bad mood. I would have to sit next to him and make it look like I was paying attention. Of course he knew Mr Vincent quite well. It was he who had performed my Mother's funeral and must have watched us two boys growing up in front of him every Sunday. However until I was 14, my Father had never approached Mr Vincent about my upbringing before.

I think the reason was that my Father's temper and his view that I was becoming uncontrollable were snowballing into something bigger than it actually was. I was usually in fear of my Father and would try to be on my best behaviour most of the time, but this was no good if he was approaching one of his explosions. Whatever I did, he would find fault, eventually culminating in me getting a good hiding!

One Sunday he stayed behind to talk with Mr Vincent and I went off with Nathan as usual. There was nothing unusual about that as he often exchanged pleasantries with him and discussed the wrongs of the world and the youth of that day.

A couple of days afterwards when I arrived home from school, Mr Vincent was in the living room talking with my Father. I greeted him as my manners had taught me to do and I was asked to go to my room whilst they talked some more. I knew then that they were talking about me.

This set me into a panic as I knew my Father was up to something.

After some time there was a knock at my bedroom door and Mr Vincent came in.

He asked me to sit down and as there was only my desk chair, he had to sit on my bed which I recall I wasn't very happy about. It made me feel uncomfortable.

My Father had indeed told him all about how 'sinful' I was and when Mr Vincent mentioned the 'M' word I wanted to curl up and die with embarrassment. He also mentioned about evil forces at work and I wonder now if my Father had referred to the strange goings on in the house at the time.

Boys Brigade was suggested by Mr Vincent

He suggested two things. Firstly that I join the Boys Brigade which was run by himself and a couple of other people in association with the Church. In fact, they were always present at Remembrance Sunday marches and such and I knew a couple of boys within the BB who went to my school.

Secondly, that I come over to his house on Saturday mornings for some personal tuition and Bible study with him. He would set me some reading and perhaps an essay each week and then we would discuss various aspects of the passages included.

At this, my heart just sank as I thought my Father had done this to prevent me from going to Football practice on Saturday mornings. I felt he was just trying to get back at me and stop me from having a life. On top of all that, I had a lot of homework to do most evenings and I couldn't see how on earth I was going to have time to write essays on the Bible as well.

After he had gone I stayed in my room sulking until my Father came in and said that he had agreed with Mr Vincent's ideas all except the Boys Brigade and the only reason for that was that he would have to fork out for a whole new uniform and there was no way he was going to do that!

It was just as well as I was happy in the Scouts and all my mates were there and I didn't want to leave. In fact I had always thought that I would stay on into the Venture Scouts and beyond and maybe even become a leader myself.

I sulked in my room.......

When the next Sunday came round, Mr Vincent asked to to come into the vestry with him and gave me some reading to do and some questions to answer. The following Saturday, I was to go to the Vicarage at 9:30 with my work and we would see how it went from there.

I hated reading the Bible and the passages I was given were uninteresting and dull. However I duly did the work set and turned up on time. It was a huge old house that smelt very musty and was very untidy. Maybe he didn't have a housekeeper? I never knew.

In actual fact, he came over as kindly and understanding. I think my Father must have painted a picture of me being unruly, wilful and disobedient, which I wasn't and when Mr Vincent realise this, he was well disposed towards me. He embarrassed me by talking about onanism and how I felt about it. I think he understood all boys did it, but of course, I was doing it with Nathan as well which was a definite no, no!

What actually happened was that after a few months, the Saturday sessions got further apart as he realised he couldn't do anything for me until they eventually stopped altogether. Nothing was ever said about not coming. He had better things to do with his time and so did I.

I only ever went to one Boys Brigade meeting, in my School uniform, before that idea was dropped on it's head as well. I stayed with the Scouts until I was nearly 17.

The Perils of Masturbation

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Carry On Camping

Apart from those two Summer holidays, the only other times I was able to go away was at Scout camp for a week in the Summer Holidays. I have already related an experience at one of these camps when I was fifteen. I can't remember when the first time I went away was. We were not allowed to stay at camp overnight before the age of about 11 anyway so if it was very far, I probably wouldn't have gone but for the first couple of  Camps I attended, Luke was there as well.

The only problem was with money so tight, my Father wouldn't pay unless we could afford it ourselves with what money we had saved. That was fine for Luke as he had a paper round in the mornings. I didn't get one myself until I was thirteen. Even on this meagre sum, my Father insisted that some of the money, a third, went towards the housekeeping. As I recall that meant about a pound a week was lost.

In order for me to go to camp one year, which I was desperate to do, I had to get some money together. I resorted to lies and deception for which I still feel guilty.

 Bob-A-Job week, cleaning shoes!

It was the usual thing for Scouts to do jobs for money in the 70's. They would call this 'Bob-A-Job' week in which the money paid for the service would be collected by the troop and given to charity.

One year, although it was not the set week, I went out in my uniform knocking on doors and asking if they had any jobs that needed doing. My plan was to keep the money that I had earned and put it towards the cost of the summer camp, which was wicked of me.

All went well, until I unfortunately got an elderly man who it seemed, was wise to exactly when the allotted week would be and asked some awkward questions about why I was doing it now. My quick thinking saved me as I told him that I would be unable to do the actual week as I was on holiday so I was doing my share now. I am not sure if he was convinced as he handed me the fork to dig his garden and I kept seeing him eyeing me suspiciously from his kitchen window. However, when the job was done, which took a couple of hours, he duly paid the money and offered to show me his collection of football programmes!

This was another occasion, when I lay awake wondering if he had contacted my Troop to confirm my story and if I would be taken to task the following Wednesday when I got to Scouts.

My Father hated a thieving and lying and several times I had been punished for doing both. I am sure he couldn't really tell if I was lying to him or not as he would always disbelieve me even when I was telling the truth! Perhaps that was just his excuse to give me a whipping anyway?

 I was not a good liar, my Father always knew.

When the camp week came, I would organise all my kit into an orange rucksack. There was no light weight camping in those days. My rolled up brown sleeping bag weighed a ton and I would go plodding off down the road in my uniform with my patterned socks and sandals on my feet.

The Scout hut, tents, camping gear and boys all had a very distinctive smell. I am not sure what it was but if I smell it now, it takes me right back to those times.

It may have been the canvas or just the unwashed youth themselves but once smelt, it is never forgotten, a kind of musty smell.

Usually, the tents we had were of varying sizes sleeping two or four scouts. The leaders in their own tents. At my very first camp, I shared with my Brother but after that, it could be anyone although you would try to get in with your friends.

Sometimes we would be split up by the Leaders in order to avoid too much larking about.

Once I remember being in a tent with three other lads, one of whom was a boy called Andrew. We had the usual laughs and conversations that lads do when freed from the restraints of the Family well into the night. We must have made so much noise that one of the Leaders, Mr Shirfield, angrily burst into our tent and told Andrew to get his stuff as he would be spending the night with him. The rest of us were told to get to sleep without another sound or else which we did. Andrew had apparently been singled out because it was his voice that Mr Shirfield could hear above all others. He came back the following morning having spent the night on the floor next to Mr Shirfield's camp bed not daring to even breath to heavily!

 The best camp site we went to was in the New Forest which had purpose built toilets and showers so at least you could keep yourself clean and showering was encouraged in my Baptist run troop as 'cleanliness is next to Godliness' we were told.

The showers were, however invariably cold and not very inviting standing on wet concrete trying to dry yourself.

There were many different troops at that particular campsite which was very large and probably full to capacity on the two occasions I was there.

There were also Sea Scouts and Air Cadets as I recall and on Sunday morning the whole camp would get together for an open air Church service in the centre of the camp around the flag pole. The sound of a couple of hundred boys all trying to sing a hymn, all out of time and mostly out of tune was not pleasing. One of the attending leaders, probably a Minister of some denomination would conduct the service which would have a message of goodwill and friendship mixed in somewhere.

Scouts just wanna  have fun.

We did feel like we were one unit as well. If ever I have felt the presecence of God or whatever God means, it was probably one of those Sunday mornings at camp and not in a drafty church pew where I spent most of my Sunday mornings.

However,all we wanted to do as boys was to get it over with and get on with that days planned activities. More often than not these would be 'home grown' such a s nature rambles, night hikes and building camps as there was a lot of acreage surrounding the campsite in the New Forest and of course much of the woods to explore. Occasionally we would be treated to something really exciting such as canoeing.

The most frightening activity for me was the 'Hare and Hounds' a kind of paper chase where one lad would have to run off with some minutes in advance and leaving some sort of clue, usually in the form of paper or rice to indicate his trail.

The other Scouts would chase after, the 'Hounds' as they were known and try to catch up with the lead boy. I say this was frightening for me because once I was chosen as the Hare which seemed like a good idea at the time, but I soon realised that keeping ahead was not as easy as it seemed. Having recently read 'Lord of the Flies' at school all I could picture was the pig hunt leading to the death of one of the boys and soon I was beginning to panic and the fear adrenalin was rushing through my body! To make matters worse, I tripped and fell, tearing the knee out of my Scout uniform trousers and badly scraping myself. That made me even slower and when I arrived back at the camp, I practically collapsed in front of Mr Shirfield like a gibbering wreck, hotly followed by the rest of my troop.

To cap it all my Father was not pleased at me wrecking my trousers which had to be darned as a new pair could not be afforded, but I paid in full for that! Even now I have a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach if I see a man hunt of the television and I can't watch the film version of 'Lord of the Flies'!

 However, the best time of all was when we had our free time just to go off and do whatever we wanted, within reason, for an hour or two. We were free from the restrictions of home and for me at least, I didn't have to ask permission before heading off into the woods.

Freetime!

At a later camp when I was fifteen, I shared at tent with Andrew alone and it has to be said, he was responsible for leading me astray and teaching me bad habits during that week.

He had brought with him some 'nude' playing cards which was somewhat risky. He would go through the whole pack telling me about which girls he fancied and ranking them in order of preference, size of tits etc. and then I would do my comparison on who I fancied and why, not unlike 'Top Trumps' with marks out of ten.

Andrew swore he had had a hand job from a girl at school but as he was a bit of a bragger, I didn't believe him. However his stories about spying on his step sister whilst she was in the shower were more likely knowing him. All these things used to fuel my bate and give me lusty thoughts of a girl I had never met, soaping herself. The kind of illicit thoughts my Father was trying to prevent..

Spying on Sister in the shower.









He was the one that also told me how to masturbate without detection in bed.

That old phrase 'hands off cocks and n with socks' has never seemed more apt when he revealed to me that when he felt like a wank, he would put a sock over his dick and continue to masturbate, eventually ejaculating inside it. The job done, there would be no mess on the bedsheets and the sock could easily be put out to wash with the semen securely inside. There was no worry about being found out..

Of course I put this to good use at home and found it worked very well provided it was me that took the washing to the laundrette as the socks tended to go hard with the semen when dried out and I am sure my Father would have been wise to it.

 Hands off cocks and on with socks!

He was responsible for a lot of young squaddies who were probably all as horny as me. If he was aware of this trick, and Army Sergeants usually are wise to a thing or two, I am sure he would have caught me out.

I remember Andrew having a wank in his sleeping bag one night when he thought I was asleep, presumably with sock in place. We all wore pyjamas when camping in those days! The unmistakable sound of gentle rubbing and breathing getting slightly heavier cannot be mistaken. I have done it myself in a hostel dormitory full of other  lads. You are desperate for a wank but are just as desperate not to be heard for the sake of embarrassing yourself!

I wasn't going to have a wank in front of Andrew. He was far too straight to suggest mutual masturbation and so I resorted to the toilet block and as I have already told, I was caught out by one of the scout leaders.

He also told me he could make himself cum just by squeezing his dick between his legs and this was a trick he used when he was at school in a boring lesson. I had my doubts. Not about the trick, but about doing it at school as I couldn't imagine his cum filled underpants soaking through to his trousers would go un-noticed for long. This was how he assured me, he had had his hand job. It was under the desk from a girl in his class who sat next to him. I can't see that he would get away with cumming all over his shoes without being noticed either. What a liar he was.

Nylon Pyjamas, great for life saving!

Talking of pyjamas, we would sometimes get taken to the swimming pool on a Wednesday night and one of our badges involved life saving techniques. For this you needed your pyjamas which acted as clothing and you had to take them off whilst in the water. Then, try and fill  them with air and tie up the  leg ends to use as a floatation device. Nylon pyjamas were the best for this sort of thing as they were practically dry by the time you got home, so I was  ahead of the rest in that respect, especially as I probably had to wear them that night.

That was to be my last Scout camp. By the following Autumn I would be sixteen and my Father had told me I was to spend the Summer working to pay my way before I was old enough to go into the army. I had already worked extremely hard to pass my examinations and was looking forward to a little break but it was not to be whilst I was living under his roof.

Forgive me Father for I have Sinned!

Sin One: Masturbation

A big part of my guilty secrets and hence my hang-ups are to do with the sex I have had.

As a teenager, my hormones were in overload and I wanted to masturbate a lot. Who didn’t I wonder? My actual first sexual contact was with another boy, my school friend, Nathan.

When I was about 14, my Brother had given me a hardcore porn magazine called Blue Climax and this put sex into a whole new context.

Here were pictures and stories of men and women actually having sex and enjoying themselves. I loved and can still remember some of the text that went with the pictures.

It was so naughty, so dirty and so downright horny, it just made me want to wank even more.

When I told Nathan about the magazine, he immediately wanted to see it. I had to take it to his house as my place was a definite no no! There was no lock on our bathroom door and my Father would walk into my room any time he wanted. It was his house as far as he was concerned.

Both of us had never had such exposure before. The astonishing thing was that although we had both discussed sex, we had never been intimate in any way before. As soon as he started looking through the pages, he got a hard on and began rubbing at the bulge his trousers. That made me hard as well, seeing him so turned on! Soon we were both rubbing ourselves. I think he was the first to get his cock out and openly wank in front of me. It seemed natural for me to do the same.

If I wanted to masturbate on my own, I would go for a walk in the fields away from my Father’s house taking my magazine with me. During one of my walks, I unwittingly stumbled across what must have been the local cruising area, a patch of woodland not far from one of the local barracks.

At first I didn’t quite see why there were large numbers of males seemingly out for a walk. Then I came across a man getting a blow job and it all became clear! They looked embarrassed and the man tried to pull up his trousers quickly. I must have gone a very deep shade of pink and started walking very fast out of the wood. The last vestiges of my innocence were leaving me!

All this didn’t stop me feeling guilty when I masturbated. I used to feel terrible guilt after I had done the deed not just by myself, but with Nathan too, probably more so. This was because I had had it drummed into me about the terrible act I was committing. My Father would punish me for doing such things and even spoke to our Vicar about my spiritual guidance. Today, I can still feel the same way about looking at porn and masturbation which is part of the reason I started this blog.

Sometimes Nathan would come with me on my ‘walks’. If his parents were at home, his Mother had the habit of walking into his bedroom un-announced, offering biscuits which could make matters difficult. We didn’t really see ourselves as doing anything ‘gay’ as we were just wanking together. Things progressed one day when I took the chance and reached out to stroke his cock. I had wanted to touch his dick for sometime but I knew how to raise the subject. I must have been feeling especially horny that day because normally I would never have had the guts! Fortunately he seemed to like it, or at least he didn’t tell me to stop and reciprocated by wanking me. Having someone else’s hand on my dick was the most amazing sensation which I have never forgotten. It sent a shiver right through me and I ejaculated in a very short space of time. So did Nathan. After that we would play with each other quite often.

Things came to a head when I went too far one day and tried to give him a blow job.

After about a minute, he told me he didn’t like it and could we go back to wanking.

It was probably a bit too gay for Nathan. Not that I think he was homophobic or anything. He was excessively interested when I told him about the cruising area and wanted to know all the details. I think it turned him on in a funny sort of way. It certainly made him hard! I think Nathan just liked his sex to straight and the idea of me sucking him was too far from where he wanted to go. The mutual masturbation began to wane off after that.

One last thing that I found very stimulating and still do, was an incident in Church!

Nathan and I would always try to sit at the back, if my Father would let me as there were fewer people around. We would always muck about a bit and one day I had gotten a hard on for some reason which we were laughing about. I put my hand in my pocket of my trousers and slipped my prick out of my pants so that the head was poking out through the nylon lining of my trouser pocket. Nathan began to rub the head with his finger and I started to ooze precum out of the lining. Nathan got his fingers wet because he hadn’t realised and didn’t have anywhere to wipe them. The feeling of him touching my nylon covered dick was amazing. The material slid so smoothly over my knob, it felt fantastic!

I have repeated this experience again many times. Needless to say, I wanked off as soon as possible after Church.