When we awoke, James was sleeping between us. I didn't know when he arrived there, why he was there, or how he managed to lever us apart to squeeze in. But there he was. I looked at Mark and he looked at me, and we both shrugged theatrically. It was good to have him there, but it meant that we couldn't get close and friendly again.
Ever.
The thought hit me as a thunderbolt. It was Friday. Tomorrow we had to pack up and go home. I had to be in the hotel tonight. I'd just spent my last night with Mark.
I think he saw the change in my face. "What's the matter?"
"I'm not going to see you again."
"Why not? What've I done?"
"No, no…I mean I go home tomorrow."
"Oh…yes, I see. But you could come and visit us. We could go camping. I'm in the Scouts and there's a site near us."
I grabbed on that as a lifeline. "Can I."
"Yes, please."
"When?"
"I'll have to ask Dad, but soon, I hope."
"These holidays?"
"Yes…yes, I expect so. I'm off to camp with the Scouts when I get back, but after that. Look, give me your address and I'll write to you."
"Can I come?" We looked down at the lump between us. James had woken up.
"No," said Mark
"You live too far away," said I. "Which is a pity, 'cos it'd be nice to have you there." I had to add that because I saw the expression on his face.
"Not very far," he protested.
"You're in the north of the country, James, and I live in the south. Mark lives near London."
"So?"
"So it's OK to come down here to spend two weeks, but not when it's a short camp like we'll be doing."
He was unconvinced.
We lay there for some time, but a wriggling nine-year-old is not an easy companion. "When did you get here?" I asked suddenly, when one of his wriggles had nearly knocked me out of the bed.
"'Bout midnight. Billy snored. I couldn't sleep."
"It must have been later than that. We were still…"
Mark had a coughing fit. James stared at him.
"…talking about then," I finished. Mark looked relieved.
"Well, later then. It was just getting light."
Oh well, he'd not seen anything then. Good.
"I'm going to have a shower," I announced.
"Me too," said one treble and one tenor voice.
So we all three showered. Once again we washed each other, and all three had the usual reaction.
"Do you want to wank?" James asked Mark tactfully.
"WHAT?"
"Billy told me you showed him, and we had a go, then Martin and I did it. Can we do it now?"
Mark looked at me. I just looked at him and shrugged.
"Why not?" he said.
So we did. And to have the company of not one, but two people who I really felt I knew everything about, was something new again. It was a good feeling, not as intense as when it was just Mark or just James, but really relaxed. I really felt that here were two people I could do anything with, say anything to, and they'd understand completely.
One by one it happened for us. I made sure I was last, because I wanted to watch both of them have their moment of bliss. Mark's I found very sexy, as stream after stream shot from him to be washed away by the water coursing over his body. James' I found utterly sweet, once again, as the unaccustomed depth of physical pleasure took him in its grip, leaving him weak kneed. Mine was good, of course, but unspectacular. At least the result was visible and the right colour. I felt I'd better practise hard so I'd get used to making more.
We got to breakfast. One thing about wanking a few times in the day, it makes the likelihood of an accidental and embarrassing stiffness far less likely, and that's important when you're nude. It was a good morning. Although we had no boat there were plenty of activities, and for the first time I tried archery.
I wasn't much good.
Before lunch we went snorkelling again, and this time James, Billy, Joe and Ralph were with us. We were allowed to go without an instructor.
We were passing the landing stage after lunch when I heard an 'Ahoy!' from the water. It was Dad. I panicked. I thought he wasn't coming until later, and I'd not said goodbye to anyone. I knew even then that I wanted to say goodbye to Mark when we were alone.
We waited from him to finish one of his impressive mooring manouevres. He was already talking as the boat glided gently up to the stage, he fended off and stepped casually ashore with the painter.
"Had a good time? Hallo, you lot. Sorry I'm dressed, but they'd take a dim view of my leaving the village without a stitch on. Here, I've got something for you all, a thank you from the Finches and Evanses for looking after our sons. Are your parents around?"
We all greeted him noisily, and I took him to the main building. He left his clothes there, not without some reluctance as it was still very foreign to him. And we went to see Dr Rogers, who was pleased to see him and told him he shouldn't have bought them anything.
"It was good for them all to see other people, and to persuade them that naturists are ordinary human beings after all. And don't forget Martin has taught us more than a bit about lifesaving, and that could be worth more than anything else if it needs to be used."
Dad just looked at him and shook his hand.
I thought it was time I got them moving. "Come on, Dad, we've got time to do some snorkelling, surely?"
"Yes. I was hoping to bring your mother over, too. But she said that noting would persuade her to take everything off in front of other people, even people she knows and likes."
"You're OK, though?"
"Yes…just about. I'd be happier under water, though."
So we dragged them both off to the coves and pools we'd been exploring, and once again got engrossed in the wonders of the underwater world.
Towards evening the inevitable happened and he said it was time we were going. That silenced me, and I saw Mark standing nearby, absolutely still. I thought desperately.
"Dad, if we go back now, can I come back later and spend the night over here? Please?"
"I'm sorry Martin, we've got a very early start in the morning, and you've got to pack."
"But I can be back early, well in time."
"It's just not on, old son. I know you want to say goodbye to them all, but we really must be sure of getting back at a reasonable time. And that means starting by nine o'clock."
"But if I left here at six I'd be at the hotel by quarter to seven, and that's time to do everything."
"You know what you're like in the mornings. We both know you can't get up that early."
We argued to and fro for some time, but there was no moving him. I think he was beginning to feel the pull of work again.
"All right," I said, rather sulkily. "But I've got to get something from Mark's cabin."
"All right, but don't be long."
I could see Mark was just looking at me, so I beckoned to him with my head. He followed, and as soon as we were out of sight I stopped. James was busy saying his farewells and fortunately didn't follow.
"You meant what you said about that camp in a few weeks?"
"Yeah. Just call me."
"I will. Do you want me to come back tonight?"
"Your Dad says you can't."
"I can get out without them seeing."
"What? And sail over in the dark?"
"Why not?"
"How about James? Don't you sleep together?"
"He can sleep in his own room for a change."
"I don't believe you'd do it."
This was enough for me. It was like a dare.
"Just leave me enough room in the bed. And if you're asleep I'm going to wank you awake."
He gave me a grin, which suddenly faded. I wondered what I'd said. He was silent for a moment.
"You know I wanked you again, last night in your sleep?"
It was my turn for silence.
"I dreamed about sex, I know. But I didn't wake. Oh, Mark…why?"
Another long pause. I looked at him and he was straight faced, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry. I really am. But you were there, and I wanted to feel you, and I thought you'd wake. But you didn't, and then you just…came. Suddenly."
"Came?"
"Yes. You know. Made spunk. All over me. That's what they call it, 'coming'.
"Oh. Um. well, next time, wake me up first so I can enjoy it, will you?"
He looked at me with the most rude grin I'd ever seen on a face.
"You bet."
We carried on walking.
"I still don't believe you'll come."
"What, when you wank me?"
He laughed, and suddenly put his hand around my willy and balls.
"I'll go on wanking you 'til you beg for mercy. No. Tonight."
"Just wait."
And with that he just looked at me, looked around and saw we weren't overlooked, came right up to me and kissed me on the lips.
"Don't let me down."
And he turned and walked away towards his cabin. I stood looking after him, amazed. Amazed at myself for letting him do it, and amazed at him for doing it.
Farewells said, and promises half made that we'd see them again, we sailed back to the mainland. Dad and we two had both dressed by now, of course. This time I was at the helm as it was officially my last sail of the holiday as we were now returning her to the boatyard. It was my turn to show Dad that I'd learnt a thing or two about sailing fast, and I sailed that little dinghy quite hard, as hard as he'd done. I could see him grinning. I judged the approach to town's Hard as well as I could, and with both of them fending off, having lowered the sails at my command, there was not too much of a bump.
"Probably a bit earlier next time, old chap," said my father.
"OK, Dad."
"I thought you were taking her back to the boatyard, actually. I suppose we could get them to collect her from here, though."
"Oh no," I said quickly. "I'll take her back in the morning, early."
"Sure? It'll have to be very early."
"Can I come?" asked James.
"I'll see," I said.
This would give me a real reason to be out early, before they all realised I'd been out all night.
Dinner that night was a rather quiet affair. We were all tired, and aware that the holiday was more or less at an end. When James was sent upstairs at last there were something very like tears in his eyes.
I followed soon after, on the grounds that I'd get some packing done.
He was in my room, just sitting on the bed. He looked up as I came in.
"I'm not going to see you after tonight."
It was the way he said it that got to me. "Of course you are. Next year — you'll be coming back, surely?"
"But that's next year. I mean, now."
I wondered if he'd heard Mark and me plotting.
"I'll still be here tomorrow. And there's always letters, and the phone."
"Yes, but…I don't want it to stop."
I sighed. I knew exactly what he meant.
He was too tired for a shower, and I told him he'd get a better night's sleep if he slept in his own room. I said, feeling like a cur, that I'd see him in the morning. He must have been tired, because he went without a murmur. I threw most of my belongings into the suitcase, had a quick shower without bothering about measurements or anything — after all, I had better things to be doing with it now. I set my alarm clock for midnight. I knew I'd have to take it with me, to make sure I was off the island before anyone woke up.
It seemed that I'd no sooner got to sleep than it was sounding in my ear through the pillow. Quickly I turned it off, and in the darkness stumbled about the room trying to find my shorts, a T-shirt and shoes. Having dressed I quietly let myself out of the room, taking care that neither handle nor door made a noise. I walked slowly, almost on tiptoe down the spiral staircase to the door into the garden. I was as quiet as I knew how with it. It was a heavy thing, and the noise of it slamming would have echoed round the entire building.
Once outside I was exultant. Only on a very few times in my life had I been out on my own this late, and it felt good. Naughty, but really good. It was also quite chilly, and my scant clothing didn't do much about keeping me warm. I made my way carefully out of the hotel's grounds, and being wary of there being anyone in the streets who might query a fourteen year old out at this time of night I padded my way down to the Hard.
The dinghy had gone.
I stood there stupidly looking. But it definitely wasn't there. I wondered what…who…why…What do I do? Call the Police? 'And what were you doing up at that time of the morning, sonny? Where are your parents? Where were you going that you needed a boat?' 'Please sir, I'm going to spend the night in bed with my friend. He's waiting for me on the naturists' island. And my parents don't know I'm here.' Yeah, the Police would be a really good idea.
Then the thought struck me that the boatyard may have come to collect her after all. I walked on, as close as I could get to the yard, and looked out to where their boats were moored, some hundred yards off shore. Well, one of them could be mine. Now what? Turn back and let Mark down? I wondered if I could find mine if I swam out.
Before I could change my mind I slipped off my shoes and looked round for somewhere safe to put them. Nearby was a pile of old, rather decrepit lobster pots which I knew had been there all week. Ideal. I moved two near the top, put my shoes in the top of the next one down, and then hesitated. What about the rest of my clothes? I wouldn't need them on the island, and if I wore them swimming out to the boat they'd get wet. But was it safe to strip off here and dive into the sea?
My teeth were chattering by this time, but that was with the excitement of what I was doing rather than the cold. I threw caution to the winds, stripped off both T-shirt and shorts, and put them in the lobster pot, and with a thrill I'd never felt stripping naked on the island I turned and streaked down to the water.
Once again it felt warm after the chill of the night air, to my relief. I swam fast out to the cluster of moored boats. Where was mine? I swam round them, and at last I saw her. They must have just moored her, as the sails were still as we'd left them. Good. That would save time.
Quickly, and as quietly as I could I raised the jib, then struggled rather with the mainsail. Finally the sails were ready and I slipped the mooring from the buoy. There was not a great deal of wind so progress was slow, but that was quite fortunate as there was only a fitful moon. While I was by the town that was to my advantage, but once out of sight of it I found that direction finding was not as easy as I'd thought. But after what seemed ages I heard water breaking on a shore and picked up the bulk of an island. Our swimming island? The shape of the trees suggested it was. I set course around it, thankful that what little light there was reflecting on the white of the waves as they broke against the shore. Sure enough as soon as I was round the end of the island I could see the warning light at the end of the naturists' island.
Wow. I was all but there.
The remainder of the journey was a doddle, except that my this time my teeth were chattering with cold despite the excitement I was feeling at what I had done. Escaped from the hotel. Stripped off on a town's beach. Swum out to my boat. Sailed her in the dark. Found my destination. And now all I had to do was moor, get ashore and go and take my invited place with my friend. Wow!
Shaking still with the cold, excitement and anticipation about the last part of my quest I lowered sail, rowed to the jetty and moored, all as quietly as I knew how. I walked, keeping to the shadowed areas past the main building and was just about to pass the door when it opened and light spilt out, illuminating me from head to toe. I stopped like a scared rabbit caught in car headlights. This was the worst thing I could imagine. Naked. Trespassing. Discovered. My mood evaporated in a moment and I felt the dread of the oncoming events.
"Hallo Martin," said a voice. "Didn't know you were here tonight. Sleep well."
"Th-thanks," I stammered, and somehow got my legs to move again. Out of the pool of light I paused, and my original mood gradually returned. I started laughing to myself. Idiot! What did it matter if you were naked? You're on a nudists' island! And everybody knows you — you've been on stage in front of them all, painted!
I was still grinning with relief and mounting excitement when I found his cabin. It was in darkness. Carefully I opened the door, stepped inside, closed it, and stood there listening. Once I could hear over the beating of my heart I realised that, yes, there was someone else in the room, breathing, and I knew him well enough by now to know that it was Mark. He was asleep.
Shivering, I knelt by the bed and looked at him as I'd done at the sleeping James. And like my little brother he was peaceful, angelic, but older. And now I felt, after all the excitement of the journey, absolute triumph. Triumph and an incredibly strong attachment to this boy sleeping in front of me.
Warmer now, the shelter of his cabin and with the blood still pounding from my heart, I knelt beside him. Slowly I leant forward and touched his lips with mine.
He didn't stir. What do I do next?
I smoothed back his hair from where it was falling over his forehead. I stroked his cheek, his chin, put my hand on his lips, then kissed him again.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the previous night, when he'd made me - what was it? Come? — in my sleep. Should I do the same? No. I wanted his company as we did…whatever.
I slowly eased back the coverings so I could get in. In doing so I uncovered his willy.
It was stiff.
I looked back at his face in surprise, but he was showing no sign of being awake. It looked so good like that, and I wondered what would happen if I kissed or even taken it into my mouth it as we'd done for each other that first time.
Carefully I laid by his side. Not an easy move as my thighs were on his pillow, my own willy by his face and my legs bent so they would fit in between my knees and the wall. Very carefully I put out my tongue and licked the end of the beautiful thing in front of me.
Once I had done that, and tasted the salt of him, I knew I had to continue. And very gently I encircled him and, using my spit as so it would go up and down easier, I massaged him.
How long I spent doing that I don't know, but there came a grunt from somewhere between my legs and then a "What…"
I said nothing. I thought if I'd stopped he'd yell. There was a pause, then a sort of comfortable sound, and then…
And then I felt my own willy become wet, and warm, and encircled.
For ages we filled each other's mouth like this, and gradually hands were brought into play on balls, and round the base of willies, and in pubic hair. The saltiness on my mouth from him was intense, and I kept having to swallow. I hoped he wasn't peeing: in fact I knew that he wasn't. I trusted him too much for that, and it didn't taste like piss smells.
I had started on him first, and he was already stiff when I did so. I had been cold when I came in. It was hardly surprising that he gave a low moan, and the next thing was that my mouth was full of his spunk. When He had done this to me he just swallowed it, so as I was pretty far gone anyway I did the same. I kept on swallowing, 'cos I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth. As I relaxed I felt him change pace, work on me harder, and I didn't last much longer before I, too, gave his mouth my little offering.
We rested. We had to.
"I never thought you'd come," he said at last.
"Well, I was cold. I suppose it must take longer."
A pause while this tried to sink in.
"No, idiot, I mean I never thought you'd dare get up and sail here…to see me." There was wonder in his voice at these last three words.
"I wanted to…say goodbye properly. And I did promise."
"Come here?"
I supposed he wanted to talk to my face, rather than my now soft willy. I turned in the bed, nearly falling out of it, lay alongside him and thankfully pulled the covers up over us. I looked straight into those fascinating eyes.
"Oh! I nearly forgot. I need to set my alarm…Oh!"
"What?"
"It's with my clothes, on the mainland."
"WHAT? Your clothes are WHERE?"
So I told him the full story, but toward the end of it my thoughts were getting muddled and the pauses were getting longer. And his eyes were closing, too.
"Mark, Mark!"
He opened them with difficulty.
"Mark, I've got to set an alarm. For about half past five. If I don't go then I'll not get back in time, and they'll discover where I've been."
Slowly and reluctantly he set his, despite grumbles that he didn't care if they did know I was here. I took that as a compliment. At last we were just lying there again.
"Martin,"
"Yes?"
"You know I…love you, don't you."
If it had been anybody else I'd have run a mile.
"Boys don't love other boys," was all I could think of saying.
"I do."
Silence. I went to sleep puzzling about what he's said.
It seemed that the alarm went off almost immediately. Only the light sky told me that we had slept at all. My brain was telling me that I had to sleep on, that nothing mattered more than going back to sleep, that if I didn't sleep I'd be ill, that without more sleep I'd never be able to sail back. He switched off the noise and looked at me blearily. I looked back.
"I've got to go."
"Mmm."
"I'll write."
"And phone?"
"Yes."
"I really want you to. And I want you to come camping with me, too. If I could take you back with me today I'd do that."
"About what you said last night."
"Mmm?"
"You said you loved me. Remember?"
"Mmm."
"Can two boys love each other?"
"They must be able to. I love you."
"I think I must love you too, then."
I had to break free from his sudden, strong embrace. I knew I had to go. And now, before the village woke up, let alone my parents. At last I just kissed him full on the lips, slid out of the bed and rushed out of the door without another word.
It was still cool outside, and I ran to the boat as fast as I could, both to keep warm and to avoid the need to talk to anyone. Bu the time I got there my eyes were misty. Because of my own pounding footsteps I didn't hear his following me until I'd got into the boat. I untied more by feel than sight, and rowed out, my eyes full of his perfect figure. My friend…my lover…my companion…How could I get through the next few weeks without him? What did he see in me that he liked so much as to want me with him?
Hoisting the sails was a mess. I just wasn't looking. But eventually I was sitting at the tiller, sailing away, sailing away from him, and waving, and calling quietly that I'd write, phone, visit…
I remember little about the journey back, except the empty feeling and the thrill. It stayed with me all the way until I was in sight of the moorings I had to pick up. Then I was too busy to do anything but concentrate on what I had to do. I'd just made up my mind that the boat was as I'd found her when a movement on shore caught my attention.
Two fishermen. Walking down to the water's edge. Oh fuck.
As quietly as I could I slipped into the water on the side of the boat away from them. There was a bit of a splash, and the dinghy rocked violently. O made sure I went in deep, 'cos I didn't want to be seen. It also meant that I couldn't see them.
The problem was, I had to swim somewhere. I couldn't float, because of the submarine effect. Even if fear and the cold water had reduced the periscope to a shadow of what it had been earlier in the night. Arghhh - Mark!
To swim anywhere else but toward my clothes would be silly, so I swam toward the hard. The fishermen were standing, watching me get nearer. When I was in calling distance I heard one of them shout in my direction. I stopped, and trod water.
"Pardon?"
"I said, you leave that boat alone."
"Oh. I'd had it all week, and I left something in it."
"I know, but you don't have her now. You leave her alone."
"She's not due back 'til this morning. My Dad said."
"Your Dad. Well, your Dad don't know everything."
I thought about this.
"No, but he paid the hire charge."
He looked at me. I started swimming. He spat in the water. I made sure I saw where it landed so I could avoid the spot. They walked off.
I covered the last thirty yards in what, had I been in a swimming gala, would have been a record time. Just before my belly left the modesty-preserving cover of the water I looked around. No one else visible, thank goodness. I sprinted, almost tripping over the uneven flagstones, to the lobster pots, found mine, feverishly dug underneath it, and dug out my clothes. Without even thinking of getting dry I heaved my shorts up my legs, and stood panting, out of danger.
T-shirt and shoes followed, and, remembering the alarm clock too, I walked as airily as I could up to the hotel.
Letting myself back in was a far easier proposition than escaping had been the previous night. Thankfully I regained my room and nearly collapsed with the reaction of the knowledge of safety as the door closed behind me. I was in the process of stripping off my wet clothes when a voice from the bed made me start.
"Where've you been?"
Oh, no.
"I've been swimming."
"This morning? You?"
"Yes. I just wanted to."
"Why didn't you get me?"
"'Cos you'd have been asleep."
"Wouldn't. You could have woken me."
"I know. But there are some things I need to do alone."
"Humph."
"What time is it?"
"Dunno. Your clock's gone."
So it had. It was in my pocket. Which I'd just dropped on the floor.
"Why're your clothes wet?"
"Didn't take a towel."
"Why?"
"Dunno. Look, I'm going to have a shower and get warm."
"'Kay."
He must be annoyed with me, or tired. Any other time he'd have been up and in there like a shot.
I got under the warm water, and almost immediately relaxed even further. I felt the waves of tiredness washing over me, and knew that I had to get to bed for an hour or so until it was time to get down to breakfast. I just lazed in the water for a while, dried properly for the first time in hours, and got into the bed alongside James the intruder.
"You went to the island to see Mark."
It was a matter of fact he described, not a question he asked. I could say yes or no.
"Yes."
"Oh."
Pause. "Did you sail?"
"Yes."
"When did you go?"
"Midnight."
"In the dark?!"
"Yes. I wanted to say goodbye."
"You did that yesterday."
"Not properly."
Pause. Then quietly:
"You really like him, don't you?"
My turn to pause.
"Yes. Yes, I really like him."
"More than me?"
Oh god, what do I say?
"No. It's just that he's older, nearer my age."
"I can't help being younger!" This was almost a wail.
"I know, it's not that. It's just…well, we know the same things."
"What?"
"We're learning the same things at school, and we know about other things."
"I do, too."
"It's not the same. Look, I really like you, and I want us to stay friends. Really good friends. I mean…you've got to like someone if you share your bed with them, haven't you?"
"S'pose so."
"Well, you have. And we've done a lot of that, haven't we?
"Yes."
"And…and you kissed me, too. Remember?"
He looked at me, suddenly shy.
"Come here."
He wriggled his way across the bed, looking questioningly at me. I gathered him toward me and held him in a bear hug. And I returned that kiss.
And it didn't feel — it wasn't — disloyal to Mark. This was my brother. The feeling was different. And he sighed gustily, and we lay close until the alarm clock in my damp shorts announced that we'd better get up. It was the last thing I wanted to do. Only the knowledge that everything had to appear normal, and that I'd be able to sleep on the train, got me out of bed.
The first thing Dad did as he came into the room as we were showering was to ask me if I'd returned the dinghy. I'd not warned James about keeping quiet about my adventure to anyone else, so I hoped he'd use his common sense.
"Yes," I said. "Or rather no. Someone had taken her out to the boatyard's moorings for us already."
"Oh, that's OK then. I suppose you didn't see anyone in the boatyard?"
"No, I didn't go in there."
"OK. See you downstairs in a minute, boys."
"OK," we chorussed.
One thing I noticed that the holiday had done for me was to make me totally unworried about being seen naked by my father. Another thing was that I no longer worried about having someone else in the shower with me.
Breakfasts and packing were done quickly, as both our sets of parents wanted to get away early. Farewells were difficult. Both Mr and Mrs Evans hugged me and thanked me for taking such good care of James and giving him such a holiday to remember. He just stood looking at the floor. I didn't know what he was thinking. When they finally walked away he looked up briefly. His eyes were red rimmed.
"Bye," he said.
"Bye, James. See you next year, I hope."
"Yeah."
And he was gone, following the Evanses out to their taxi. I felt really let down. I didn't want him to kiss me, in front of everybody, but I'd hoped for something a bit nicer than that. He was my brother. We'd shared…everything for two weeks. I'd really put myself in danger for him. I bent down to pick up my own case and take it out to our taxi which had just pulled up behind theirs.
Footsteps ran towards me, and I straightened up just in time to be almost sent flying as he buried his head against my chest. The arms went round me.
"I don't want it to be a year," he wailed. "I want to see you before then."
My brother had come to say goodbye.