I wondered what he wanted to show me. He seemed tense. I looked at him, and was surprised to see, for the first time, that his willy was longer than it had been. Well, it happened to me too, frequently. But not usually when I was wet and cold; then it was rather the reverse reaction and I ended up looking like a five year old.
We dodged out into the rain again. By now it was like film set rain, when it's so obviously being shot into the air from a hose that it looks false. This wasn't false, it was only too real, and cold, but…
I kept on discovering things that holiday. On the walk from Rose's cabin to Mark's smaller one some distance away we might as well have been alone in the world. A wet world. A wild world. A cold world. Yet over me crept an exhilaration I'd not met before. I was at one with the elements of nature for the first time since birth. I was alone except for a good friend, and I had nothing artificial about me at all. There was just we two human wild animals and pure, forceful weather. I stopped in the middle of this big open space. And he stopped too, sensing that I wasn't beside him.
"What's the matter?" he shouted above the wind.
"Nothing. It's just so…wild. And we're alone in it, and there's no one else…in the world." I finished in some embarrassment as it sounded a bit quaint even to me.
He looked at me strangely. Then a slow, contented smile started on his mouth and eyes and he came straight towards me, looking me directly in the eyes as he did so.
"And we're alone in the world…And there's no one else to tell us what to do. And we're just friends together in nature's strong hold, and all we need to do is to keep warn and please ourselves."
The more he spoke, the wilder I felt. At that moment I believe that if I knew a magical dance to please the gods of weather I'd have done it, so free and unrestrained was my mood. Our mood; he obviously felt the same way I did.
"How do animals keep warm?" he asked suddenly.
"Dunno. Get into a burrow and curl up together, I s'pose."
"How about us?"
"We're wild. We could do the same."
"Under some bushes?"
"Yeah."
He gripped my shoulder with his hand, then put his arm round my back. I did the same to him. Together we walked in our wildness towards a line of bushes which bounded the area. It was quite thick and we had to struggle a bit to get in, but once there the power of the rain had been reduced to a few splashes every now and again, more of a mist than a downpour. In the middle was a clearing, strewn with broken dead branches and last year's leaves.
"Our burrow," he said. I looked at him and smiled, full of the game. He sank to his knees and pulled me down beside him. I was not surprised, by this time, to see that he was fully erect, because I was too. We knelt and released each other as we instinctively pushed the debris away from a boy shaped patch in the middle, making a sort of low protective wall. The floor was mud — or rather, dry earth.
With it ready, he lay with his back against one of the higher parts, and I lay down by his side. He was still looking straight into my eyes, capturing me and holding my gaze to his. How long we stayed like that I don't know, but it was as if time stood still. Then tentatively he put out a hand on my shoulder, but instead of gripping it as he had before he just let it rest there. I did the same to him. He seemed rather a long way from me so I wriggled myself closer.
Our knees touched. Our elbows by this time were bent. My face was only about a foot from his, and I could feel his breathing, quick as my own, on my face.
"Do we curl up together now?" I whispered, anxious not to break the spell.
He made a sort of whimper, and quicker than I could see wriggled toward me, putting his arm right over my shoulder as I did in bed with James, and the other one offered itself to go under my neck. I allowed it, followed suit with my own, and before I knew it our bodies were touching everywhere possible: feet, calves, thighs; chests, bellies…And yes, his hard, hard willy was pressed against mine. And he was gently moving his hips around to move us one with the other. His face…well, his nose was barely an inch away from mine and we were still holding each other's eyes.
From the first new feeling of wildness, of freedom, of the glory of being at one with nature, it had changed to a different first new feeling, that of being at one with another human being in a way I had never thought possible. It was as if the gentle movements between us would eventually merge our two bodies and we would know everything about each other to the extent of becoming one person. It was wild yet comfortable, wondrous yet obvious, beautiful yet disturbing.
The final one-ness came when the inch between our faces closed, our noses edged round each other and our lips touched. It didn't occur to me that that this meant I was effectively kissing another boy. His lips caressed mine and his hands started journeying down and around my back. I let mine do the same to him, with one part of my mind wondering that I was doing so, yet with another knowing that it felt absolutely right.
We ground our bodies together for a long time, and only when he exclaimed did either of us break free. My eyes opened in disappointment that he had stopped, and looked into his again. He was reaching behind his bottom, reaching for a stick which had slipped down and dug him in the spine.
I sighed deeply and looked at him longingly, wishing it could go on and on. And for another period we propped ourselves on our elbows, looking each other in the eyes, occasionally letting our eyes search another part of the other's face or body whose appearance we needed to check.
Apart now, it didn't take long for the cold to make itself felt, and he noticed that my teeth were starting to chatter too. Swiftly he bent forward and kissed me on the mouth, then got up and helped me do the same.
"Let's get warm," was all he needed to say, and fought his way from the thicket out into the rain which had lessened in force a bit.
We were both very muddy. Our wet skin and our movements together had produced a goo which had stuck to his left and my right thigh, buttock and shoulder. My hair was matted too. I followed his muscular, though grimy, bottom as it bobbed in front of me. Again I was thinking along two separating lines. The normal Martin was wondering how I'd managed to get into this, why I was allowing myself to be involved with another boy, and what would everyone else think about it. The recently discovered Martin was in a kind of trance, didn't know what had happened, did know that something else was about to happen, and certainly knew that he had to go along with it.
We found his cabin. Inside we stood, dripping, glad of the warmth the place offered.
"Shower."
It wasn't so much an offer, more a statement of fact. We both crossed to the little cubicle; I followed him inside. By this time I was so used to showering with James that it was natural to me to share, but he looked surprised and pleased.
"I hoped you'd share."
I just smiled. Once again we were looking at each other as if trying to remember every detail of the other's face. At last he broke the contact, and found the taps.
Inevitably the first jet of water was freezing, and it rather broke the spell. We jumped apart with a shout, then both laughed. He adjusted the temperature, then looked at me.
"Did you see what the time was when we got here?"
"No. I wasn't looking."
"Nor was I. Wait a mo."
He dashed out, still dripping. A second later he was back, looking worried.
"It's half past five."
"What?"
"We've been out there for two hours, more or less."
"But we can't have been…what will the others be thinking."
He paused. "Do you know, with you here I couldn't care less."
Another of those long pauses. I broke it.
"Had we better get back to them? After all, we'll have plenty of time tonight."
As I said it I realised that I hadn't the faintest idea what it was we would have plenty of time for, but it stopped him in his tracks. He just looked at me.
"Do you…I mean have you…you know…done this before?"
"No. Done what?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just that you seem to be very…Anxious."
I just shook my head. I didn't know what he was talking about. Clouds gathered at the edge of my mind. What was I meant to do? Did he think…Had I done something wrong?
"I just meant that we'd be alone together later, that's all," I said rather desperately.
His face softened. "That's all right. We can even go to bed early."
At this my willy, which had lost its perpendicularity in the coldness of the rain and shower, somehow decided to perk up again. I don't know why. He was coming back into the shower again.
If he hadn't sort of accused me of being too keen to do…what? I'd have suggested we shower each other like James and I had been doing. I certainly thought it would be very nice to run my hands down his back, over his bottom, down his flank, on his thighs, perhaps even wash his attractively shaped willy. My own was by this time staring at the ceiling. But then, so was his.
But I started washing myself, just to show I wasn't too anxious, and after a pause he did the same. It was a small shower, so some contact was inevitable, usually at speed and painfully. He seemed to slow down as we got cleaner.
"Can you see if my back's clean?" he asked.
"Turn round. There's a mud stain just on the side of your bum."
"Where?"
"Shall I show you?" I wasn't going to be 'forward' as my mother would have called it, though she had a different sex in mind.
"Please."
Tentatively I put my hand on his left buttock, well away from the slit.
"Could you clean it for me?"
Yes, I could. Yes, I did. But that was all. I stopped. He paused.
"Is that it?"
"I think so. Yes. Do you want to do the same for me?"
"OK." The voice was carefully casual. He too found and cleaned a bit of mud, but from right in the centre of my bum, at the fleshiest part of the crack. It was disturbing to feel his fingers enter a little way inside that bit of me to clean; not unpleasant, but just disturbing. He finished, then looked at me briefly, rather straight faced, I thought, and left the cubicle. He found me a towel and we dried in silence.
It had stopped raining by the time we got outside, although the wind was strong and cold against our naked bodies. I was still wondering what it was I'd done or said to make everything stop for us. But as there was this barrier between us now, and he wasn't talking about it, I couldn't either.
The others were rather anxious about us as we'd been so long. Dr Rogers was about to come and search for us.
"We've just been chatting," said Mark casually. "And we had a shower when I'd shown Martin round the area a bit. It was great just standing in all that wind and rain — really wild. And then we went to shower to get warm again."
I nodded my agreement. Was it my imagination or did the doctor give his son a strange look?
We played board games, then ate, then there was a table tennis tournament. It's always been one of the only ball games I'm any good at, and even as a guest I was keen to win. James hadn't played before, so he was taken off to be taught, much to his delight.
My opponents were, to be honest, not much good. I seemed able to dispose of them quickly, and was left, in my age group, with Mark to play against and one or two who seemed to know what they were about.
To my surprise, and to the delight of my new friends except Mark, I won. But even he was glad after I went on to beat the others in the league.
Mine wasn't a decisive victory, but they suggested that I take on the winner of the next age range. Well, I did my best, and it was an enjoyable game, but I really should have played some of those who had been knocked out earlier. It wasn't so much speed as reach that did it.
At last I caught Mark yawning in my direction and it didn't take long for me to latch on and do the same. I made the comment that I was tired after what had been a strenuous day, and did they mind if I went to bed. James looked at me in astonishment, but I was not in a mood even to notice him. Almost too swiftly we said our goodnights.
Something had happened that afternoon, something exciting which I didn't understand, yet I knew I wanted more. It involved another boy my age, and physical touch, and an almost painful sensation in my body. I knew it was connected somehow with my willy, which had been as stiff as I had ever known it. The knowledge that we could make it happen again, both us, together, wanting to explore, made me start to react even before I had reached the door. The cold of the rain made me shiver. We had no coats with us as the summer until then had been hot. Less ardent now, we raced over the open, grassed areas to the group of small cabins which included his. He let me in first and closed the door, then stood facing me. We were both shivering, and it was obvious. He started laughing, and something in me caused me to do the same. The cold and the anticipation had made us light headed, and our laughter soon changed into that uncontrollable semi-hysteria that happens when you're younger.
We got the better of it eventually, but not before we'd each staggered to the bed to ease our aching stomach muscles. I found my head was somewhere at his midriff, and for a second or two, while he recovered, I could examine closely the perfect pearls of this oyster. The scent of him was there too: rain, natural body oil, and that undefinable smell of…Mark. I lay there, thinking that this was the most perfect moment of my life. His sobs of laughter quietened, and he lay there still while I just looked. And as I breathed, slightly quicker and more deeply, the pelt of curly hair above the target of my stare fluttered in time with it. And below, the boy/man organ started to expand downwards against his wet thigh, and then slowly, in time with the beating of his heart it lifted away towards me, and continued expanding and lifting until almost parallel with his body.
He let me be, just watching him there and breathing him in, for ages. And all the time this wondrous part of him pulsed before my face. The break, when it came, was in a soft, gentle and pleading voice.
"Please, will you…I mean do you want to…touch, as well as look?"
I turned my head to look at him in surprise. I had thought him asleep or still laughing. The fact that he was watching the watcher had not occurred to me at all. I stretched my hand up, timidly. What to do?
Very gently I lifted a finger to stroke the side of it. As I touched for the first time he gave a start, and I wondered if I'd done wrong.
And my own heart gave a start, too. For the first time I'd touched the most intimate part of a boy my own age, my friend, my companion, my sharer of the secrets of wild weather and our nest, the boy who had drawn me to his friendship as no other in my life, the boy who I loved……loved? How could I? I wasn't a homo! But perhaps this was just friendship, deep friendship, and girls and real love would come when I got older.
My hesitation was noticed, and he looked up in concern.
"Don't you want to?"
"Yes. Oh, yes." And I did. Having got this far, and knowing he wanted me to, I wasn't going to pass off the opportunity of being as honest, as intimate, with him as I could. Yes, I wanted, very much.
Slowly I stroked him, with one finger, with two, up and down, encircling as well as stroking. He started to make little whining sounds as I gentled him, getting to know every bump, every part of this attractive boy's manhood. I wondered if I should touch underneath as well, on the bag of skin with the small central ridge, which contained the two perfect ovals which hung beneath him. Perhaps if one hand continued, the other could gently try…
As I touched one of the ovals he gave a small gasp, and I heard his breathing get noisier. To me, the smoothness of him there was like nothing else, and the fullness of them between my fingers as I gently held them, like priceless works of art, made my eyes start to water with an emotion I didn't know, but knew it had to do entirely with intimate, close friendship, with absolute trust and, if this was love, then yes, with love.
A choked voice at last called my name. Almost guiltily I stopped my fondling and looked at his face.
How can I describe that look? An angel at rest? A contented baby? Or just pleasure in a glance? The hair tumbled, still wet, the forehead smooth, the eyes half closed, the mouth with a Mona Lisa smile, the skin resting and unblemished, and the whole visage so completely at rest.
As I watched, he spoke again, in tones so gentle, so serene, so happy that my heart burned.
"Please can I have something to look at, and play with?"
It took a moment for me to realise what he meant. A split second of doubt attacked me. Did I want him to look at me that closely, that intimately? Would my poor little willy really come up to his expectations? Could I really enjoy his fingers doing to me what mine were doing to him?
Did I really have a choice?
I swung myself round on the bed so we were lying parallel. I had a moment's panic as he looked at the most intimate parts of my body closely for the first time. I watched him watching me there as I had watched him. As his hand slowly came up to touch — yes of course I was erect — I shivered in anticipation. His touch made me start as had mine on him. It partly tickled and partly was…what? How do you describe the stage of your body's feeling when tickling becomes a deep sensation, ultimately pleasurable, yet near enough to the tickle of childhood to make you remember it?
It was that. More: I had reached that stage on my own with my nightly tests and measurings. But this was somebody else, someone who was making me feel these sensations because he wanted to, and because I wanted him to.
As I watched him, he did something which astonished me and touched me so much that I wanted to cry.
He put his mouth to that part of me I had, before this holiday, regarded as the most private of my body, that I would never let anybody else see, let alone touch. And he kissed it.
I could say nothing. His head looked down at my face and just smiled. I could say nothing, do nothing or show anything on my face.
"Why not?" he whispered. "It's not dirty, like they'd have you believe. It's good looking, and I like you. A lot."
I said nothing, still. But my eyes returned to his. His equivalent to mine, so much bigger, with so much more hair at its top, and with so much more rounded, bigger balls under it. Could I? What would it be like? Did I want to? I could hear my own breath being forced from a throat which nerves or something had seemed to constrict. I wanted to be one with him in some way, to show we were really grown up best friends and shared everything.
My lips touched it. It quivered away. My lips chased it, and kissed it not once, but feverishly, all over, as if the adultness of what I was doing was as important as my want to feel it under my lips. And what would happen if I put my lips over the end? Would he loose control and pee in my mouth? I was sure he wouldn't, so much did we trust each other.
I brought my head down so I could reach it. It seemed to be wet.
"Why's yours wet?"
"It's when you get stiff, and think about…love. It's just a sort of oil."
"Isn't it piss?"
"No. It's all right."
"What happens if I get some inside me?"
He paused. Then wonderingly: "Would you do that?"
"Dunno."
"It wouldn't do any harm."
"Sure?"
"Promise."
It seemed the right thing to do to run my tongue up and down, like my fingers had been doing. He gasped again, then lay back once more, leaving mine free but throbbing. At last I had made up my mind. Once again I stretched down, opened my mouth, and encircled its end. I felt my tongue contact the sensitive part which had been under the protective skin but which was now being exposed as my lips pushed downwards. It picked up some of the liquid: salty, a bit slippery, like oil, as he had said. He was breathing quicker now, and the whining sounds were nearer together.
My other hand returned to his balls. I don't know why, it was very uncomfortable for me. Yet the discomfort was nothing compared to the feeling I was receiving at being so much a part of the privacy of this wonderful other human being. I let my tongue roam at will, and my lips were pushing the skin and releasing, pushing and releasing, and I suddenly realised that what I was doing was wanking him with my mouth. The idea was so novel that I stopped.
At once there was an impatient sound from up the bed. I felt my own erection being grabbed, then swallowed, and then tongued…and if I thought that the most perfect moment of my life had been just savouring his sight and smell and taste then I was wrong. The physical pleasure of wet softness around my little erection was almost too much. I gasped and moaned, both at the same time, and he gave a whimper. Now I knew what I was doing for him, and why he was making those sounds.
Armed with that, my tongue began in earnest, licking and teasing, and my lips pushed and pulled his skin first up, then down. At the fundament of my body he was doing the same, swiftly, impatiently, and all of a sudden I could feel that IT was about to happen. I no longer thought about checking for white stuff. That, in comparison with my emotions, my feelings, my pleasure, was nothing. Less than important. I gave out a wail, my body tensed, and the most violent of spasms travelled through me, then another, and another. There must have been seven or eight, and then more, less violent ones as my body went through its first orgasm with another human being. I subsided and at last, panting, hot, sweaty and exhausted, with this cock in my mouth. I almost spat it out, and concentrated for a moment on breathing and gaining my equilibrium — literally, because I had almost fainted with the intensity.
Was this sex? Why did my parents, teachers, vicars, even my school friends call it dirty? It was the single most wonderful thing I had ever experienced. No way could it be dirty.
"Martin…Martin…" A voice was calling me. I shook my head, trying to get my brain to work.
"Thank God, I thought you'd passed out."
The face was concerned, but still rapturous. My body was out of his mouth. He licked his lips. Then I just wanted him with me, wanted him part of me. I struggled my body round until I lay beside him, and hugged him, and our lips seemed to merge. To want to explore in his mouth, as well as his lips, seemed natural, and I wondered if I dare. Then his tongue sought to penetrate my lips and I knew I need not worry. We explored each other for ages, and I remembered what he'd just done for me.
I felt better, and knew that I had to return all that effort that he'd spent on me. As we explored each other's mouths my hand strayed down his body, and once again touched and fondled that previously forbidden territory. Could I make him do as I did to myself? I'd never done it to someone else before. Slowly I started, carefully, softly. And he laid back. My other hand went down to fondle underneath, under the smooth balls which now seemed to be higher, nearer his body, than the two plums in their smooth sac that I had felt before. I couldn't, now, in the valley still of my own orgasm, bring myself to use tongue and mouth on him. But he was breathing heavily, and as I continued, more confidently now, he started his whimpering again.
That stopped, and the breathing deepened further, then with a cry it was his turn. A jet of the white stuff I wanted to see so much emerge from myself shot up his body to land under his chin, another came to rest on his chest, and others landed in quick succession further down his belly. And still my hand continued, although it too was now covered and slimy.
At last he put a hand on my wrist, and I stopped.
As his breathing returned to normal I looked at the results of my labours. It was warm, and sticky, and white. And there was a lot of it. It was so much a part of him that I wondered if I should have caught it in my mouth, if it was harmless as he had said. But now, I couldn't do it. Perhaps next time?…
We spent ages then, just lying with our arms round each other. Eventually I decided that although my front was warm, my bum and back were definitely not. And the drying results which were still smeared between us were getting uncomfortable too.
"Can we have a shower?" I whispered.
"Are you cold too?"
"Freezing."
"I didn't want to…interrupt. That was so good. It's wonderful to have you here."
"I like it too. A lot. And you. A lot."
He looked at me with that gentle smile and I knew that I was lost in him still. He really made me feel so good. To be such a friend, so close, and not just for that physical play…
We unstuck ourselves with a bit of pain and difficulty, and went to the shower. To his surprise I stopped him from soaping himself and instead did it myself. By the time I was half way finished with him he was once again stiff, and I was very careful to ensure it was clean for him. I finished off by washing down his legs and feet, then working my way up again to the top of his thighs. To do this I had to kneel in the shower, so once again my face was staring at this glorious sight of an erect, uncircumcised penis and pendulous, full sized testicles. Once again I felt I had to treat it like a lollipop, and once again he gasped as the sweet bulge at its end vanished into my mouth to be caressed by my tongue. And there we would have stayed, except that as I was wondering how long I could go on there came a knock on the door.
"Stay in there," he whispered as I almost coughed out his erection.
He grabbed a towel as he left the cubicle, wrapped it around himself, decided that too was a dead giveaway as it patently failed to hang straight, and eventually just held it loosely in front of himself, drying himself anywhere, as he went to the door. I turned so my bum was facing the door. My own body would have given the game away, too. I made showering motions.
It was his father. "Aren't you two asleep yet? I thought you were tired."
"Just showering, Dad. Then we're going."
"Everything all right? You OK, Martin?"
"Yes, thank you sir."
"Good night to you both."
"Good night," we chorused. He left.
"That was a bit close," I said as he returned to the shower. Once the towel had dropped I wasn't surprised to see that he was not nearly as hard as he had been. Nor was I.
In silence we dried, then just as silently crossed to the bed and lay in it. Together. Naked. Unashamed. Close. Covered and warm at last.
"Mark…"
"Hmm?"
"Do you do that a lot? With other people?"
"No. Once before, with a boy from school. He showed me what to do and how it can be made even better. But not since."
"Good."
A pause.
"Mark…"
"Mmm?"
"Can we do it again?"
"I want to, but not tonight. I really am tired. Aren't you?"
"Yes, but…well, will we get another chance?"
"Why not?"
"Don't know."
"Then we'll make the chance."
"Tomorrow?"
"Maybe."
"In the morning?"
"Maybe."
"Can I put my arm round you?"
I don't know where I got the nerve to say this. In fact he was probably surprised too, by the sound of his "Yes."
We were both lying on our sides by this time, facing each other. I cautiously encircled his shoulder with my arm, and he did the same to me. I remember looking into his eyes and feeling his breath on my face, and sighing happily although I didn't know why exactly. I thought I could feign sleep and see if he was in a more receptive mood for play later.
The next thing I knew it was daylight. Someone was hammering on the door. He and I were still lying face to face, arms round each other, and just before the shock set in I sensed he was watching me with a half-smile on his face.