When I awoke I had my back to him, but there was an arm draped round my shoulder and a tickling on my back where he was breathing. It felt good. I wondered what the time was. Six-thirty. Time to go back to sleep again. Carefully I turned over, but not carefully enough. The eyes flickered open and the immediate startled look was swiftly replaced by a languid smile.
I don't know why, but I felt my body starting to react at such a greeting. If it'd been Mark I'd have known why. It would have been the promise of a lot of physical contact and the slow development of that physical pleasure between us. But James? Nine-year-old James? Not really, surely? It wouldn't be right. But he enjoyed his new-found pleasure, so perhaps…No. Too young. Unfair to him.
So I put my arm over him, too, and he smiled even more and wriggled closer until we were hugging. My willy was stiff, sandwiched between our bellies, and he looked surprised and giggled as he realised what it was.
"Martin's stiff again!"
"I know, I know. Is James?"
"Don't think so."
"Then I'd better make James stiff."
He giggled, and wriggled his middle away again. I thought he was trying to escape what I had threatened, so I went no further.
"Aren't you going to, then?"
"What? Make you stiff?"
"You said you were."
Well, what could I do? The arm over his shoulders traced its way down his chest, down his belly, till it found the little target. Then very gently I started tracing my finger tips round it, down onto the balls and back again, whilst all the time he made mewing sounds with the tickling sensations and wriggled at the side of me like a trapped animal. He turned so his back was towards me, but my hand followed him and continued, and at last the mewing of the tickling changed to the silence of fondling. He had quickly become stiff, but I wasn't about to stop. I took the top of him between finger and thumb and started the strokes.
"Oh…" He sounded surprised.
"Don't you want me to?"
"Mmm."
Now as we were lying there, his bottom came down to just below my waist. It was very close to the tip of my own stiffness, so as he wriggled a bit we contacted, and I could feel that there was a slipperiness between us. He never noticed at the time, though. It took a few minutes only before he jerked in my arms, bring his bottom into contact with me again briefly, and then lay quiet with the usual deep breathing.
I felt totally in control of him. I felt I could protect him against all dangers the world had to throw.
We lay quietly until he had recovered, in contact all the way down his body. He turned at last and looked at me seriously.
"Doesn't it wear it out?"
"Why should it?"
"All that rubbing."
"Mine hasn't."
"How long have you been doing it?"
"Ages. At least a year."
"Oh."
A pause. "Do you want me to do you?"
"D'you want to?"
"Yes. I want to see what happens."
"You want to see…"
But he'd already thrown back the coverings as he turned over again to face me, exposing me to the cool morning air. He wriggled down the bed, and I took the opportunity to lie flat on my back. So he was covered and warm, only his arms out of the bed, and I was exposed from the top of the thighs upwards. A good deal?
He may only have operated on himself twice, and had me operate on him just then, but he had learnt. He was very gentle. Well, most of the time. As he progressed and things started to overtake me the occasional uncoordinated pull that would normally have made me yell didn't have the same pain attached to it.
What with having done him, and with all that bodily contact, it took me quite a short time, and like him, I gasped and bucked in the bed. As I started, he stopped, and I just yelled at him to go on as the main thrusts wouldn't have come if he didn't.
It wasn't one of the best ones I'd had, but he was one of only two people who had done it for me, and I was grateful. Next time he'd know not to pause as I started.
I had to stop him wiping his hand on the sheets. He went to the toilet instead. I hoped the rest of it wouldn't show on the bedding.
We went back to sleep.
That morning we were actually on time for breakfast, despite having yet another shower. And after that we sailed straight to the naturist island and found them in a morning laze-around. I spoke to Dr. Rogers. He said that he'd come over with us that evening and see if we could stay on the island on Thursday, if we wanted. "On Saturday we go," he said with a grimace, "so Friday night's out of the question, I'm afraid."
That was a blow I felt in my solar plexus, just as if I'd been lightly winded by something. No more Mark, unless I could go and visit them. I realised that I didn't know where they lived. I'd have to get their address.
The day offered us archery, table tennis, proper tennis, volleyball, swimming, and free snorkelling in the afternoon. We did the lot and it was great.
In the late afternoon Dr. Rogers suggested that we leave early, and he'd try to persuade our parents to let us come back that night. With a mixture of regret and anticipation we got dressed and waited in the dinghy for him. When he appeared we hardly recognised him; he and his wife were not only clothed, but fully clothed and smart. They climbed into the motor boat and followed us out.
Because of the wind we couldn't sail direct to the mainland of course. So after trying to keep station with us for some time Dr. Rogers came alongside and announced he'd take his wife to wander round the shops and would see us when we landed.
Together the four of us made our way to the hotel. Sod's law dictated that neither set of parents was there, so I thought it'd be all right to buy them — and us — drinks. It was during our second one that they all came trooping in and were surprised to see their respective sons acting as hosts.
It was going on my parents' bill, anyway.
My father was the only one to have met Dr. Rogers, but he hadn't met Mrs Rogers. So the introductions were a bit difficult to follow. They got there eventually. It all seemed to be adult talk and boring, so I wondered if they'd forgotten why I'd got Mr Rogers back. I kept trying to butt in, but was constantly being verbally run over by one or other of them. Eventually Dad took me on one side and suggested we go and shower, and said that they'd get round to it soon, and we'd get told later.
Well, I couldn't hurry them up, we were both getting frustrated by the whole thing, and I wanted a pee.
We wandered off. To my room, inevitably. I threw myself onto the bed in disgust at the slow ways of adults and wondered what'd happen if my lot said no. I wasn't there to persuade them. I'd just have to go on my own. But what about James? I couldn't leave him in the room — my room - asleep alone. And it'd mean getting back very early in the morning.
We had a shower. An ordinary one. Well, it started off like that, but when you have someone showering every part of your body and fooling about with bits of it, then things sort of develop. And so we each enjoyed ourselves again.
But I wished it'd been Mark. I was very conscious that we would each be going our separate ways soon. And I still didn't know where he lived.
By the time we got downstairs again we found the Rogers' had been asked to stay to dinner. We had our permission to stay overnight on the island on the Thursday, but they thought it was too late for that night. I felt an impatient pang of frustration, but couldn't say anything 'cos I'd make up for it the following night. It was hard. The idea of the following night made it that way.
Despite our disappointment, we enjoyed dinner. All six adults seemed to hit it off, and the stories got more and more outlandish. I think the more staid residents in the hotel were astonished at the hilarity that was coming from the big table of eight, hilarity that continued over coffee and liqueurs in the lounge. They seemed to be enjoying themselves.
I nodded to James and had a quick word with Dad. We went out into the garden and just stood, breathing in the fresh air after the lounge's smoky atmosphere.
"Tomorrow," I said softly.
"What?"
"Just thinking."
"What about?"
"Oh…things. What we're going to do tomorrow."
"I bet you'll be with Mark."
"I'll be with everybody."
"Mark most, though."
"Well, he's a friend."
"Aren't I?"
I just looked at him. The Grin was almost all buttoned up, and I felt sorry for him.
"Yes…yes. More of a friend than…oh…anyone at school."
It unbuttoned a lot. "That's all right then. 'Cos you're my best friend."
I just had to put an arm round his shoulders. And there we stood, just watching the moonlit seascape, and the islands, and where Mark was.
But I was with my kid brother.
They were still at it when we'd had enough of drinking in the atmosphere, but as we walked in Dad beckoned us over, and somehow interrupted the flow of chat. I wished I'd seen how he did it. I know that I couldn't get myself a hearing if I'd tried.
"Sorry. I wanted to talk to these two before either of them went upstairs. Before you both go to the island tomorrow, can I make a plea? Can I go sailing again with you, Martin? And will you come too, James? I know you want to get to see your friends, but it'd be lovely if your poor old Dad could have a bit of sailing too. I'd ask mum along too, but I know she's not into boats, and certainly not sailing. You could take me snorkelling again afterwards too, if we can?
"Certainly," said Dr. Rogers.
I couldn't refuse. I just grinned at him, knowing now that he was on my side. "OK, Dad. All right with you, James?"
"You bet."
"As soon after breakfast as you like, then. Mum's going round the town with Mrs Rogers, so they'll be happy. And you can sail me back in the late afternoon, please Martin, and then go back and spend the night and the next day on the island as we agreed. So long as you're back for dinner on the Friday."
"That's great, Dad. Thanks."
And so we rushed upstairs, at a time somewhere between his bedtime and mine. And we hugged each other on the bed, before and after getting undressed.
Once again he woke me early the next morning. I just turned over and laid on my back, but I could sense that he was looking at me. I took no notice, but still the feeling continued. At last I felt the warmth of his face approach mine, I opened my eyes to see his head approaching mine, the eyes serious, the mouth with a hint of a smile…
And the lips met mine full on, and kissed me.
"What…?"
He drew away, and suddenly looked scared. I looked at him, and slowly his face started to crumble towards tears. I felt astonished, not by the kiss but by his breaking down.
"I'm sorry," he sniffed. "That was wrong. I'm sorry. Please don't send me away."
I carried on looking at him, not knowing what was wrong. But there came a point where I couldn't just lie there and see him miserable in front of me any more.
"Come here," I commanded, and put my arm out flat so he could lie on it and be hugged. With hesitation he came toward me, looking at my face like a snake to try and see what I was thinking. Apart from needing to comfort him I didn't really know myself. But once he had again rested his head near mine and my upper arm had gone round his shoulders, I knew.
"James…don't be scared. I'm not angry. And thank you."
"Why?"
"For kissing me."
"I thought…when you looked at me…you thought…"
"You thought I didn't want you to? Well, I didn't know you were going to, so I was surprised. But it was nice of you. And I feel…proud that you did."
"Why?"
"Because it shows that you…like me."
He said nothing, but snuggled up close again.
We slept, but at least this time woke up in time to be first down to breakfast. Dad was there soon after, and was in one of the best moods I'd seen him in. Not that he was usually down, but he was obviously on a high this morning. We ate companionably, and were leaving just as mum arrived, with James' parents soon after. The receptionist was surprised to see us so early for our packed lunches, but at least they were ready.
The morning's sail was glorious — my father's word, but he was right. Once we had each shown how well we could sail he took the helm himself. Once again he made the dinghy sing through the water far faster than I would have liked to with James on board, and really got us jumping about, trimming the jib, raising and lowering the centreboard, hanging over the side to balance her…
By the time we reached 'our' island we were all soaked with spray, tired, had our hands raw with water and rope, but were exhilarated beyond words. Dad sailed almost up to the beach, and at his command both sails came down simultaneously and were stowed as tidily as we could, just as the dinghy nosed herself onto the sloping beach. James jumped out with the anchor, we all followed to help pull her up the beach, and made her fast.
It must have looked really slick.
"OK," said my shy, retiring father. "Last one to have any clothes on buys the beers."
He was wearing underwear, we weren't. He lost.
We crossed the island, the three of us, and swam from the south facing beach as usual. Dad was so much in carefree mode that I think he started treating us as his Navy colleagues. He ducked James, who didn't mind. He fought with me — not violently — and used some real Navy words when I got the better of him once. And as we all flopped in the shallows to rest he announced to the world that he was "fucking hungry!" Immediately he realised who was there and blushed and apologised. But we were too occupied trying to control our laughter to listen.
So then he became my father again, but a light-mooded version of him. He laughed at himself and his slip into Navy vernacular, and attacked the packed lunches. James and I laid one either side of him and ate ravenously.
We rested afterwards. Lying naked, by the side of your father who has just proved that he's actually a normal human being, is an experience. I'd never felt closer to him in spirit than then.
We were startled by the sound of a motor boat, and all looked up. It was the Rogers family, fortunately without my mother by now.
"Bloody…I mean Gosh! What's the time?" said Dad.
"Haven't the faintest, my watch is in the hotel."
"I'd better run," he said. "Your mother'll be wondering if we're all drowned."
I'd forgotten that aspect of it, but I didn't want him to go. "Can't you phone from the island?"
"Not fair on her, old chap. Nothing would please me more to stay with my son and his friend, playing about as if we were all fourteen. But I'm married, and I have a duty to be there. And it's just well that I am."
"Why?"
"'Cos if I wasn't, you'd not be alive. And I'd be the poorer for that." And he jumped up, waved at the Rogers', and ran back through the woods. "Explain to them for me, would you?" he shouted as he vanished into the trees.
"He doesn't want to be seen naked by them!" James exclaimed as we settled down again. I said nothing. Suddenly I felt bereft. It had been such a morning! Why did it have to end?
But we got a tremendous welcome from them all. I explained to the Doctor that we had no idea of the time, and Dad had suddenly realised, and rushed off.
"That's OK," he said. "Mary thought he'd probably be so engrossed in sailing with you that he'd be late. She knows he's a good sailor and wasn't worried. But how're you going to get back tomorrow? He's taken the dinghy, hasn't he?"
"Oh…yes. I'd not realised." We'd be marooned, I thought. We'd have to stay there until winter, and every day would be something new, all those activities could be mine to play with…But there'd be nobody else there that I knew, apart from James. Oh. Not such a good idea. Although the idea of no school, and spending the time with my little brother was very attractive.
"Hallo," said Mark.
And as soon as I looked at those dark eyes my brain changed track completely.
As we were making ready to leave for the island where we'd be spending the night some thoughts crossed my mind. James and I were naked, all our clothes and the few night things we'd brought were in the boat, which was sailing back towards the village with my father. I was about to say something rude when the dinghy rounded the north shore of the island, once again being sailed as if in a race. I was dead impressed, and I could tell the others were too when he sailed straight at us at full speed, turned at the last minute to bring the boat head to wind, and came to something like a stop a few yards away from the motor boat.
"You'd better have these," he said as he threw our small bags over to be caught by the Doctor. "I've stuck the clothes in that you wore here, so you'll not be savages when you come back. I'll fetch you late tomorrow afternoon. OK?"
"Thanks Dad! OK," I called back, and James shouted something as well.
Once again the naturists' island was welcoming and fun. James went around quite happily with Billy and Rose, and it was fun watching the three of them getting up to all sort of mischief together, quite happily, quite safely, and entirely naturally. How anybody can say that naturism is for perverts or that nudism is wrong, I couldn't see then and still can't now.
And Mark and me? Oh, we were playing too. No, outside. We did a lot more snorkelling, and were getting quite good at it. He and I guided each other through the underwater rocks and weeds, and got away from the main crowd. To know we were alone, completely alone under water, was really exciting. Sometimes we would find an almost enclosed, underwater pool, with no company apart from a few small fish, some crabs, and the waving weed. We would just look at each other, dive, and connect our bodies together in a hug in the middle of this natural grotto.
To get rid of the day's salt, we naturally went to his cabin to shower. He adjusted the temperature of the water while I just watched him with this feeling in my willy that I was going to start getting bigger any minute. He looked round at me, and smiled, and beckoned. To get under the water I had to get really close to him, and we were so close that our bodies were once again touching everywhere. The balls of my feet were on his, our knees touched, then after a gap our thighs touched, our willies were pressed together, our hip bones were touching, our bellies, and chest were together, and our shoulders. I looked him straight in the eye with only two inches between us…
And we just looked, as the water coursed down.
I read somewhere that the eyes are the mirror of the soul.
Our souls were together in those moments. Mine was watching his, and his, I hoped, was watching mine. Since I'd been young I'd looked at only one other human in the same way: that was my mother. But this was different. This was my own discovery. A human I had chosen, and who had chosen me. And in that long moment I knew that I knew everything about him.
And the moment stretched out and onward, and still we just looked into each other's eyes. I was normally very bad at eye contact, but most of that was to avoid other boys knowing that I might find them attractive. With him, he knew that I found him attractive, and he thought the same about me. So to look straight into those deep, dark pools of dancing light was……right.
Once again, after that part of the magic had passed, we explored each other with hands. Everywhere. Slowly. And no one came to interrupt us. And of course we got excited; and we rubbed our excited bodies together. And the sensation made us both wet and slippery despite the shower water. And this time I knew that I could do for him what he had done for me the last time.
I knelt, and took him gently in my mouth. I played, I pulled back on the foreskin, I tongued him on the exposed end and lapped at it. I took it as far in to my mouth as I could. And all the time the sounds of absolute bliss from above me were fine music. At last I knew that I had to help him further, and started using my hand on the bit of it nearest his curly hair. And the music grew louder and more urgent, until I felt him stiffen even more, heard a soft shout from above, and felt his gift to me, his ultimate personal gift, hit the tongue that I had put in the way.
I swallowed hurriedly. Without having come myself I could accept this, although it tasted vinegary and oily. But I knew that it was more than a taste: it was Mark. And that made it not just acceptable, but welcome.
Now we were brothers — more than brothers. I was a brother to James, although he wasn't in my thoughts at the time. What was Mark to me? My closest, best friend? I didn't know. But I knew that I wanted him with me, daily.
Before he had recovered I looked outside at the clock.
"Mark!"
"Martin…what did you do…I've never……"
"Mark, it's half past seven!"
"Mmmm……oh……what?!"
"We're meant to have been ready for a meal at seven!"
"Oh sod…Martin…thank you…thank you more than I can say." Was there water in his eyes or were those tears?
I smiled at him, but said nothing, just in case.
"Will you wait 'til later?" he said.
"What for? Oh…oh yes. Please."
I wondered how my body was going to settle down before we had to go outside again. I had visions of it staying that way all the way to the main building, all through dinner, and all the rest of the evening. An accidental one was acceptable, the doctor had said so. But a permanent one?
Hastily we dried off. There was no time for anything mutual, we just got reasonably dry as quickly as possible, then rushed out to air dry the rest.
We were late, but apart from a quizzical look from the doctor to his son, nothing was said.
We joined in the family's booking of two lanes of the new ten-pin bowling place they'd just finished building. It was very popular, so much so that they'd only got on it twice before. Once they'd explained how the scoring worked I wasn't too bad; nothing incredible, but adequate. James chose almost the lightest ball he could find, and amazed us all by getting a strike with his first attempt.
"It's quite easy," he said, more in hope than fact, I thought.
It was a fun evening, and very good to see so many boys my age and near it just relaxing naturally, no clothes, no inhibitions, appendages swinging, bums bending with the effort of bowling. Not exactly stiffening material but very close. But then I had my own special friend for that.
At last we'd finished, and were taken back for a drink with the family. James, Rose and Billy were all yawning, and were sent off to bed: surprisingly none of them made any complaint. I didn't want to be the first to suggest that Mark and I should go, yet I was so much looking forward to our play session.
At last he yawned and looked at the time and announced he was off to bed. It was more or less expected that I would go too, although I'd not said anything.
"I'll look in on you later, shall I?" asked his mother.
"It's all right, mum. We'll be OK. We're big boys now."
"I know…well, if you're sure."
"We'll be fine, mum. Goodnight."
There was a chorus of goodnights from all those left, and I joined in politely.
Once outside we stopped and looked around at the world. It was a dead flat calm, the sky was clear, the moon was full and casting our shadows sideways, and it was still warm.
He looked at me with those dark, gently smiling eyes.
"How about a bit of a walk before we go in?"
I just nodded. All I wanted was for him to get close to me. But if he wanted to…well, why not?
He led the way round the island, toward one of the coves where we had been snorkelling. The woods we walked through were carpeted with pine needles which made no sound under our bare feet, and we saw movements from the corner of our eyes which half scared, half intrigued us. We arrived at the deserted, silent cove which in the moonlight looked magical. We stopped as it opened before us and just looked. As if in a dream I felt his arm go round my waist. I followed suit. And once again we just watched, drinking in this incredible moonlit beauty, aware of each other and physically contacting, yet content with a different achievement of nature.
"Shall we swim?" I whispered, at last.
He nodded. Together we walked slowly down to the water and each of us, at the same moment, tested its temperature with a toe. Surprised by this simple coincidence we looked at each other and just smiled. I kissed him. It seemed the right thing to do.
We walked in, and were surprised at how warm the water felt after the cool of the evening. Without a mask seeing under water was not too effective, but we saw the rocks and weeds and the sandy bottom, all lit by the shimmering, cold light of the moon.
If the beauty on the surface silenced me, then to see all this, alone with someone whose company I wanted and craved, who held out the promise of a pleasure I still couldn't understand fully, made my heart want to burst with emotion.
We swam slowly around the cove, rediscovering the pools we had visited earlier in the sunlight, diving from time to time. But all good things have to end sometime, and the cold started finally to get to us. We swam to the shore.
"Bed?" he said in a whisper.
"Together." I whispered back.
We ran back through the woods.
Once again in the shower we explored each other, and he was cradling my balls in his hand whilst gently stroking my stiffness when the water started to get colder…and colder…It had an effect on me, and on him. We both made disappointed noises as it really got too uncomfortable, and eventually made a rapid exit from the shower. We stood laughing at each other, by that time shivering.
"I'll dry you," he said.
"We can dry each other."
"Come on."
We each got towels and just set to work. There was no fondling now, we were each too cold again. We just needed to get warm and the best way of doing it was to scrub at each other. But with the back and forth movements of the towels returned the stiffness to our willies, not from fondling or the thought of play this time, but just from repeated motion.
Dry at last, and each with our mast before us, we clambered onto the bed and pulled the covers over, our teeth chattering again with the coldness of the sheets.
"Come here," he whispered.
Well, that was what I wanted, wasn't it?
As I wriggled toward him the first thing I encountered was a hand under my balls again, and as we made contact the other arm went around me, pulling me closer in a hug. With his contact everywhere on my body I heaved a sigh of happiness — not the first of the night — which made him shiver as it blew across his chest.
I laughed. He squeezed my testicles gently together. I put my arm between his legs and started my own voyage of exploration…
I wanted it never to stop. The sensations of his hands once again feeling everywhere, all over me, were intense. I felt safe, cared for and yes, loved.
By a boy?
The thought slipped into and out of my mind as his hands travelled over me.
Soon I felt him shift, and the mouth opened around my left nipple which was massaged by his tongue — surprisingly strongly. Then he lent over to attend to the right one, so resting his body on mine. I thought I wouldn't be able to stand his weight as he was quite a bit heavier than me. But all it did was to make me feel even closer to him spiritually. His willy against my leg was wet and slippery, and I thought he'd peed on me. But then I remembered the clear stuff that came out of it, and knew it was all right. By the feel of it my own wretched little body was starting to do the same.
At last he moved off my chest, leaving both nipples damp but very aroused, and put his mouth round my belly button. This received the same treatment, and he sucked at it too, for some moments. Then his mouth moved downwards and I felt his tongue playing with the whisps which were my apology for pubic hair.
But he seemed to like them. Who was I to argue? My willy was stroking his neck as he attended to them, and then…and then came that moment. He put his mouth over me and drew me in. All in one go. The end of it hit the back of his throat, he was so intent on pushing toward me.
"Ohhh…" What a stupid word it looks written. But the sensations at the time were overcoming me and had defeated any normal speech.
The hands came up under me, one under the balls to massage me there and sending me into even further realms of delight, and the other wormed its way under me to spread as far as it could over my buttocks.
I was completely under his control. I thought back to being cared for as a baby by my mother. I would have been held as intimately as this then, though not in the same way, and never so gloriously or so long. And while that had been love and biological necessity the other was…what? I still instinctively balked at giving it a name. It wasn't play, it was more. It wasn't exploration, it was certainly far more. What was making him do it and making me enjoy it? Enjoy! There's an inadequate word!
Time passed, and still he worked at me. Every time his tongue massaged the top of my willy I thought it was going to happen, but it never did until his lips came to take over from it, and just pulled up on it, relaxed and pushed down, pulled up, down…and all the time he was managing to keep sucking at me like it was spaghetti, and swallowing. And his breath was blowing straight onto my whispy hair.
And then I felt it start, right from the middle of me, and take hold of every bit of me, and I gave him that little bit of me that was my effort at returning his gift to me earlier. On and on it went, and still he continued, swallowing the more now.
And this time I did faint.
I recall a voice calling me, with mounting anxiety. But I couldn't figure out why. I was absolutely at peace, tired, yes, but as near to heaven as it's probably possible to get. Eventually I came to and found him about to shake me by the shoulders.
"Oh, God," he said. "I thought I was going to have to call Dad."
"Why?"
"I thought you were out for the count."
"No, just resting."
"Silly sod."
I just smiled at him.
"Thanks," I said.
It was his turn to smile.
We turned off the light and I slept again almost immediately. My dreams were of him, and what we had done together, and at one point I dreamed that I was in the middle of doing IT again. How long after that it was I don't know, but I woke, and my willy felt strange, and a bit wet. But I turned onto my stomach so it could dry on the sheets and closed my eyes.
But then, just as I felt as if I was dropping off again I felt a hand on my bum. Just feeling it, carefully, gently, as of it was just following the curves around. I knew it was him, and it was nice. It went on for some time, and then the thin covers were lifted off me, and I felt him move. He was sleeping on his front too — I could see, because I opened my eyes then, He knelt up, and I could see his willy was stiff again. Slowly he manoeuvred himself so that his arms were either side of me and the swung his leg over me too.
"What…?" I said.
He gave a start, and hurriedly pushed himself over to his side of the bed, but said nothing.
"What're you doing?"
Nothing.
"Mark?"
"Sorry."
"Why?"
"Shouldn't have."
"Shouldn't have what?"
"Done that."
"What?"
"You know…that."
"You didn't do anything. Well, you were kneeling on top of me, that's all."
"Yes, but……Didn't you mind?"
"Not if you want to."
"Weren't you asleep?"
"You woke me when you moved."
Silence.
"Don't you know what I wanted to do?" This was in such a small voice that I really wondered what was the matter.
"No. Not unless you wanted to sleep on top of me."
"Oh, Martin…Do you really not know?"
"Know? No, I don't. Know what?"
A pause. "Can I show you?"
"Yes." Well, we'd done a lot else together. I had no idea.
So he sat astride my bum, and to start with our buttocks coincided. I liked that a lot. It was really soft and friendly, private. Yes, as stirring as having our willies together but not with the potential for getting to IT.
But gradually he moved forward until he was lying on top of me, and his stiffness lay in my bum as if it was made to fit, hot, throbbing with the heartbeats I could feel everywhere on him. Slowly he started to move up and down on me, stroking himself along the length of the crack. And again, it was showing really close friendship, but the ultimate private way of showing it. Before too long I felt my skin, unused to being chafed there, was getting rather worn, but he was so intent on what he was doing that I said nothing. But as he progressed it eased off, and instead of the rubbing sensation I felt an oiled sliding movement.
Even in my relaxed, half asleep state I realised that his fluid had started flowing. It was more comfortable for me, so I didn't worry. This kept up for some time, and eventually I got bored with it. I wanted to rub with him, certainly, but could see no future in what he was doing. So I struggled a bit and succeeded in getting him to lift off me enough to let me turn over.
Now, with him in full view, lit by the moon shining through the curtainless window, I could appreciate things much better and add to the fun for both of us. My willy joined his in its excitement, and before long I was once again both covered by our stickiness. But for me, although IT happened, it wasn't nearly as intense as normal, and took a whole lot longer. I didn't know why.
This time we both went and towelled ourselves off rather than make the bed wet and sticky. And also, after this time, we both went to sleep and stayed there.