I woke first in the morning to find James still facing me, but his hand had slipped down and was lying between my legs as if to grasp my genitals again. I smiled at the memory of our night's encounter, and thrilled at the knowledge that he seemed as anxious as I was that we should be intimate, but I suddenly wondered how much of what had happened would stay in his waking mind. Perhaps none. If that was so, I mustn't assume that he'd automatically welcome any further attempts from me to be close, despite his own actions of the night. I felt, most reluctantly, that I should discount the fact that I had helped the boy relieve himself, and that James had embraced and kissed me, and that his hand was even now in as intimate a place as I could wish for.
Aware that even that could be construed as taking advantage, I freed myself, looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly nine o'clock. I was about to shake James, but remembered in time that the two of us were naked. Instead, I put just a pair of shorts on, then became aware of the smell of breakfast cooking. Leaving James asleep, I glanced furtively into the kitchen, just as Doreen turned and saw me.
"Oh, Martin!" she said after a split second's hesitation as she took in the sight of my body. "I've never seen you wearing so little! I'm glad you're awake. Breakfast's almost ready and Peter and George are just sorting out the engine. They're eating on the move. We've made a phone call and there's got to be a bit of a change of plans. We'll tell you later — don't worry, it's nothing drastic."
"Morning, dear. What are you doing wandering around nearly nude?"
"Morning, mother. I'm not nude."
"Well, those shorts don't leave much to the imagination, dear."
I realised that the shorts I'd picked up were about my thinnest, a remnant from school, and that I was wearing nothing underneath. I looked down at myself and realised that parts of me were moving independently of each other…
"Oops, sorry," I said, and turned away, totally embarrassed. "I'll go and wake James."
"You'll give him a shock if you let him see you like that!" my mother chided. Little does she know, I thought.
I wondered what Doreen thought. The look she had given me was very calculating. Surely not…She was old enough to be my mother!
I returned to our cabin and crossed to James' still sleeping form. I watched him for a minute, looking at the boyish, adultish face, thinking back over the last few days, and then back further to THE holiday…Then I shook the boy's shoulder, and said quietly: "Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to get up. Come on."
James gradually awoke, to find me sitting beside him, dressed only in those ridiculously thin shorts which were even now threatening to expose the end of my penis to the world from the left leg. He looked down at it, stretched, then slowly sat up. The duvet fell away from him, exposing his chest and abdomen.
"You're nearly dressed in those you know, Martin," he chided as he pointed to the offending clothing.
"And you're completely undressed in nothing," I retorted as I twitched the duvet away to expose his body to the world. Suddenly I wished I hadn't. James would now realise I knew he had been sleeping naked. I needn't have worried.
"Yes, I know. Thank you for putting me to bed last night."
I was dumbfounded. How did James know? He'd been asleep all the way through! I feared the worst was about to come, and decided to try and duck the issue. "What d'you mean?" I asked.
"You might have thought I was out of my tree, but I was awake."
I was lost for words, and was panicking about what I'd done, and what would be said next. There came a knock at the door. James flicked the duvet back over himself and lay down quickly. "Hallo?" I said.
It was Dad. "We've got a problem, Martin. She's not steering well, and although she's leaving a hell of a wake we're going at no speed at all. Can you give us a verdict?"
"Coming."
Thankful for the opportunity, I slipped on some shoes, told James I'd see him in a minute and slipped back down the boat, giving Doreen another opportunity to admire me as I passed through the kitchen on my way outside.
"It's a good thing it's warm, Martin. You're not wearing very much," said my father as he looked at me.
"I know, Dad. I was late up and just put on the first things in the drawer. What's up?"
"It's like I said. At normal revs she's making a lot of splash and no movement, and on tickover nothing much happens at all."
"Sounds like weeds round the prop. Did you check this morning?"
George looked sheepish. "No…we did everything else, but not that. Do you think that's it, then?"
"Sounds like it. Can you pull into the bank? Then if you and Peter hold her, I'll delve around."
"Can't you do it in mid stream?"
"No. I'm not touching the prop when the engine's going! I'm quite attached to my fingers!"
"True. Okay, we'll pull in."
He manoeuvred to the bank and hopped out to hold the boat there on the mooring rope. James, now dressed, had realised what was happening and did the same at the other end. Peter went down to see him, to my alarm. I was all but sure that James would be telling his father how he had been stripped, then interfered with.
Trembling slightly at the thought, I opened the weed hatch and fished around. There was certainly something around the propeller, and it felt like fabric. Some of it gave way as I pulled. I asked for a knife and prodded around with that. Then the propeller turned completely a number of times as I unwound the remnants of a pair of knickers from it. There was a shout of laughter from the bank. James had walked up to see the results and he and Dad were laughing their heads off at me.
"I didn't know you were a cross-dresser, Martin," exclaimed James. "You must show me the rest of your wardrobe some time."
I said nothing. I was still worried about what he might have said to his father..
We started the engine again and continued on our way with Dad steering still, and the rest of us went to continue with breakfast. I was about to excuse myself to go and put some more clothes on, but was told by Doreen to sit where I was and have breakfast, or they'd never have it cleared up. I was just about to start when there was a shout from outside.
"Lock ahead!"
"Damn," said Peter. I forgot how close the first one was."
"Mary, do you think we can manage on our own again?" asked Doreen. "We've had ours, but none of the men have."
"Yes, why not."
So she and mum went to deal with the locks, leaving Dad's breakfast on the hatch in front of him where he was steering, and Peter, James and me eating ours at the table.
"Now, you two," started his Dad. By now I was really apprehensive, dreading what I was almost certain was coming. "I told Martin earlier that we'd made a phone call this morning. That was to the people we're going to meet on business. They've told us that we're booked into an hotel for two nights, and we've got to meet two lots of people. One of the pairs is from Holland. And, what's more, they want Doreen and your mother along as well. So we're going to have to alter our plans."
All the muscles in my body relaxed with the relief, almost to the detriment of my bladder control. Whew! It looked as if I was safe.
"We've got two choices. Either we can ask you two to get the boat back to the boatyard, and call it a day like that, or you can carry on up the canal toward Birmingham and we'll try to meet you there. We can give you a number where to contact us on Wednesday morning when we would be free. What do you reckon?"
I was still apprehensive about what James might have said to his father, and what he might have said to mine, so rather than immediately say that we'd want to continue, I waited for James to speak first. James seemed to be waiting for me, too, so there was a pause.
"Come on lads, it's not that much to ask, surely?"
"No…." James was still unsure about using the Christian name. "I vote to carry on to Birmingham. How about it, Martin?"
"Yes." I was relieved. James couldn't have said anything. It sounded as if he hadn't intended to, either, otherwise he would not have appreciated the idea of being alone on the boat with me. Suddenly I realised that we would no longer need to share a cabin — for two nights, at least — and my heart sank again. "Yes. We'll carry on toward Brum, as you said."
Conversation flagged as we ate their breakfast rather hurriedly. I finished first, excused myself and went to our cabin to put more clothes on. I had just taken off the shorts and was wearing nothing when the door opened and in came James.
"What's the matter, Martin?" he asked quietly.
I turned away so that James couldn't see my front view. "Nothing," I said, just as quietly.
James came round quickly to stand in front of me, stretched out his hands and looked straight at my eyes. "Please….don't treat me as if I'm a kid. I know something's the matter. And I was honest with you yesterday, remember."
I was still uncertain what was in his mind. I was embarrassed by James' closeness and the fact the I was naked and the boy wasn't. I shook my head, not knowing what to say.
"Is it something I've done….or could it be something you've done?" asked James, as if suddenly aware of what might be troubling me. "After last night…"
He was interrupted by his father's voice at the door, and a knock on it. "Come on, you two! The girls are struggling out there!"
"Coming, Dad!" Then quieter: "There's nothing to worry about, you know, if that's your problem. I did the same to you on Saturday night."
I turned away from him and found my underwear. It must be coming now, I thought. Pulling them on, I looked at James hard.
"Are you sure?"
"Martin……yes……it's between us. Don't go off me now, please." And he quickly left the cabin to go and help his parents.
I thought for a while, thankful that the air seemed to be clear again. Or at least, fairly clear. I still didn't know what he was really thinking.
The rest of the morning and early afternoon was spent working up the Hatton flight. We were by this time accompanied by no other boats, and to start with all the locks were against us. Twenty-one wide locks, each operated by hydraulic paddle gear which had been installed because someone thought it would make life easier, actually make for heavy, exhausting work. We had to empty all but the last few before entering, so each had to be operated twice. But as we passed the Waterways workshops, four locks from the top, we were relieved to see a pair of boats working down toward us. We stopped for a cup of tea after the bridge before the winding hole and rested our tired legs and arms.
As the boats passed us and exchanged greetings, we set off again, anxious to reach the summit and look for somewhere to stop for the night. For by this time we had agreed that would be best — everyone was tired. At last we were there, and breathed a sigh of relief. No one mentioned that they would have to go through the same procedure on their homeward journey!
A quick discussion persuaded us to continue to Kingswood, where there was a station for the journey into Birmingham. It would also put the boat in the right place to continue northwards along a more interesting stretch of canal into the city, the northern Stratford. While James and I took turns to steer, our parents took turns to shower and change. They were ready to disembark, looking strangely smart, by the time their we two had moored at Kingswood bottom lock.
"Now, you two, no larking about, OK?"
"Yes mother."
"And don't forget you've got to look after the boat. And try to keep her tidy, will you?"
"Yes mother."
"And don't forget to phone tomorrow night to tell us where you'll be the next morning."
I paused. "Sorry, was the answer to that one meant to be a yes or a no?"
Dad laughed. "Just use your common sense and normal Martin-ness. That'll do. But don't forget to phone unless you want to leave us stranded in Birmingham."
They said their farewells, and walked off down the towpath, looking very out of place. I'd just known that mum would say all that, I just knew it.
Once alone, we sat in the main cabin, just glad to be at rest. At length, James looked at the clock and said: "Pub's open."
I laughed at him. "One track mind, you've got. Come on then. I've not got much money."
"I've got some. And I haven't got a one track mind. It has two."
"What's the other one?"
"Sex."
I raised my eyebrows quizzically, and my heart missed a beat. "You don't say. How much have you got?"
"What, sex?"
"Money, twit."
"Just a mo….about £3, I think….yes. £3.50."
"And in my little pocket I have….here, wait a minute. £1.20? That can't be right!" He paused. "Oh yes it can. I forgot I paid for the groceries the other day. Damn. I'll have to get some more out of the bank. But not here. There's nothing here at all."
"We've got £4.70 between us. Well, it's enough to quench our thirst, anyway."
We spent an enjoyable two hours in the pub, not drinking a great deal, but making good use of the bar billiards table. Back at the boat we shared the cooking and ate a simple meal, and after an argument, washed up. Once we were again sitting, the curtains drawn throughout the boat as it was by then dark, I suggested a game or two of cards. James readily agreed, and we played several games of rummy, the only one that each of us knew and more or less all I could remember how to play.
"I'm tired of rummy," said James, eventually. "It's all right winning, but…well…it's a bit pointless, isn't it?"
I had to agree with him. For the first time I had begun to look at our playing as just a means of entertaining James. I'm not an instinctive card player, and would rather have been in the pub playing bar billiards. But until I could reach a bank or a cash machine, spending money in the pub was not a possibility.
We sat in silence for a while. Then James piped up again. "How does strip poker work, anyway?"
I was astonished, although I suppose after Amberdale I shouldn't have been. "Why?" I asked, some of the apprehension about my attitude to James returning.
"Well, we're not worried about being undressed together, are we? It'd add a bit to playing cards all night, wouldn't it?"
Yes, I thought, it most certainly would. What's going on inside that head? "You don't really want to play that, do you? Besides, I don't really know the rules. I've never played poker, let alone strip poker."
"How about strip rummy, then?"
"Too long winded, I'd have thought. Pontoon's quicker."
"How does that work?"
I explained the rules to him, and we started to play. After about a dozen games, James said: "How does the strip part of it work, then?"
I had been wondering if I dared introduce the topic myself, but hadn't liked to. "Well, from a description I heard from a friend of mine who played strip poker once or twice, every time you lose a hand, you take off an item of clothing. It's as simple as that."
"You mean, nothing else? What happens when someone's taken everything off?"
"He said something about forfeits. The winner has to make him do something."
"What?"
"Anything. I suppose it depends on what there is available and who's playing anyway."
"Such as?"
"Well, there are games you can play together when you're in the nude."
"What, sex, you mean?"
"Yes, ultimately."
"What else?"
"I don't know. You have to make it up as you go along."
"All right. I'm for it, if you are."
I looked at him, almost incredulous that James should want to play such a game, and should even consider forfeits afterwards. But then he'd always been the one to take off his clothes first. My mind somersaulted as I looked at him and thought of what he was suggesting.
"Are you sure about this? It can get very basic, you know."
"Yes. Why not? I don't mind at all what you make me do, so long as it doesn't hurt or do damage. And anyway, at Amberdale we did quite a lot together."
"I'm not going to make you do something you would rather not do."
"That's all right then. Come on, let's start."
"We'd better have some ground rules, then. Um…. let's say that a pair of something counts as one item. Okay? And when we get down to forfeits, if either of us really doesn't want to do something, then he can make the winner choose again."
"That's good. That'll solve any problems. Who's the winner?"
"I don't know. I suppose it's the one who keeps most clothes on, or has fewest forfeits played on him."
"Right. You're banker, or do you want to start again?"
"I may as well carry on, unless you object?"
"No, go on."
I dealt again. James picked up two more cards, then said "Twist." I put a card on the table, face up. James said "Damn. Bust. What happens now?"
"You take something off."
James undid his shoes as I dealt again. He lost the next two hands as well, and took off his socks and T-shirt, then sat looking rather embarrassed, I thought, in just his trousers. Then he won a hand, so I took off my shoes, then dealt again.
"I was beginning to think you'd just started to play seriously!" he said. "I thought you'd be winning from then on and I'd be going all the way down to forfeits!."
"I was beginning to wonder myself!"
But he lost the next hand, stood up, and slowly released his trousers. I hadn't been there when he had dressed after his shower, so was intrigued -well, astonished — to see that he was wearing a pair of red tanga briefs. These were cut very sharply up from the crotch, almost vertically, before joining a waistband of elastic which wrapped round him just under the navel. The arrangement exposed the top of James' thighs right round to a point halfway over each buttock, whereupon they dived once again to cover the cleft of the bottom.
"Good grief, James. They're a bit small, aren't they?"
"Yeah…nice and cool."
"Is that why you bought them?"
"No. Not really. But it's a good excuse. I realised I'd got them this morning, so I thought I'd try them on, and give you something to look at."
"Don't know what you mean. Come on, your cards are ready."
James picked them up, and gave a whoop. "Ha!" he said.
"What've you got?"
"I'll tell you when you've stopped."
I grinned, and dealt to myself, stopping when I reached eighteen. "Pay nineteens and above, flushes and pontoons," I announced as if at a casino.
"Pay me! Royal pontoon! That counts double, surely?"
"That's not in the rules, is it?"
"It is now!" And James watched as I removed my socks and shirt. He took over as banker and immediately lost again. Here goes, I thought.
"You can accept a forfeit, if you'd rather," I said quickly as I noticed him hesitate.
"Can I? I might. What have you in mind?"
There were all sorts of things I'd like to do, but I said "This is where it's a bit difficult. You see, I don't know what you'd be happy with."
"Martin, we both knew when we started this that we'd end up playing around. As this is all to do with being undressed first, it's going to have something to do with each other's bodies, isn't it?"
"I know, I know. But it doesn't make things any easier. You decide on a forfeit for yourself."
"That's hardly right!"
"I can't decide on something that'll make you…oh, I know." I chuckled.
"What?"
"Go outside, walk the length of the boat and come in the back."
"What, like this?"
"That's it!"
His giggle took me right back to Amberdale.
"All right. You're not going to lock me out, are you?"
"No," I said, "but it's a good idea."
"Please?"
"No, I promise I won't."
"OK."
And I watched as he unbolted the front of the boat and looked out. The slightly 'footballer's' legs, slim thighs, the rounded, soft/firm looking bulge of the still-boyish bum, the broadening back…all passed me, paused, and then vanished onto the bank.
Was the back of the boat unlocked? I almost ran up to it, found that it was bolted, and was loosening it as he pushed it from outside.
"Quick," he panted. "There's somebody coming."
He fumbled his way in, crowding against me, and for a moment his bulge was pressing against my leg.
We secured the boat again, and he sat down, grinning.
We both calmed down and played another hand. He lost.
"Forfeit?" he asked.
"I've got to think up another one?"
"Yes. A bit less embarrassing this time."
"The whole idea of forfeits is that they're embarrassing or sexy."
"Make it sexy, then."
"I can't."
"You can. I shan't mind, not with you."
And how do I take that, I asked myself.
"You pick another one," I told him.
"All right. I know…you remember last night when you put me to bed?"
"Yes…" I was hesitant.
"Do that again."
"Put you to bed?"
"No….don't be silly! You know, just before you'd taken my pants off."
"What was that?"
"I was awake, Martin. I told you that this morning. You know what happened."
"Are you sure about this?"
"Yes. Come on. I'm getting a …mast ….just standing here."
I noticed that the bulge in James's briefs was indeed growing. I went round the table. James stood up and looked directly at me as I stood looking down at his swelling briefs. I wanted to kiss him, to embrace him, to tell him that we didn't need to play like this but just to enjoy each other's presence as we had five years ago. But there was still this doubt…
So slowly, I reached to touch the briefs where they covered his testicles and to massage them. I felt James's breathing quicken, and his erection started pushing at the briefs' waistband. Still watching, I felt up the length of the penis to the tip which was starting to push its way under the elastic. I let my hand lie there for a moment, then turned away to go back to the safety of my seat, my own erection now becoming uncomfortable.
James let out a sigh. "You did it on the skin last night," he said.
"That'll do. For now," I told him, shakily.
James composed himself and bent to sit down again. "Ow!" he said. His unyielding penis had suddenly won against the elastic of his ridiculous briefs which was now holding his foreskin back against the thrust of the organ. The edge of the elastic was rubbing against the sensitive glans and it was this which had led James to wince. He quickly pulled the briefs away, and replaced his foreskin, letting the edge of his penis protrude above the garment. I watched in fascination, as James noticed.
"Come on then," he said. "It's about time you were visible too." He dealt the next hand, which I tried to build into a five card winner. I might have done it and won the hand, but I needed to even things out a bit with him. I went bust deliberately, and removed my trousers.
"Now we're level," I said, my heart racing. My erection was keeping inside my underwear, unlike James' which was still exposed, although it was out of my sight behind the table.
"Not quite. I'm naked, more or less. Next one's the decider."
It sounded as though he didn't want to play any more after that, and in my disappointment I said nothing. I picked up the cards and played the hand so badly that I lost what should have been an easy winner. "You did that on purpose!" said James.
"No I didn't. I made a mistake, that's all."
"Go on, then. Off with `em!"
So I stood, and eased my pants over the swollen penis, which leapt up, glad to be free of the constriction. I dropped my underwear onto the floor, and stood there, naked, taken in a moment right back to the beach of the island off Amberdale.
"Not bad," said James, watching me critically "Not bad at all."
"I didn't know you were an expert."
"Hardly! Apart from Amberdale you're the only other person I've seen naked, except after sports, in the shower. And now I've seen you as a boy and as a man."
"I'm glad of that."
I sat down, in turmoil once again. I needed time to sort all this out.
Unperturbed, James dealt another hand. This time I didn't have to lose it deliberately. The cards were in James' favour.
"A forfeit, I suppose. What do you want me to do?"
"Let's see…. yes. Just come over here and stand in front of me." What? What was he after?
I walked round the table again, James watching my middle like a hawk. His head was at the level of my abdomen.
"Legs slightly apart, please," came the command. I complied. James lifted his hand inside my left calf, and I could feel the hairs there being brushed upwards as the hand moved upwards onto my thigh. At last it lay between the top of my thigh and my scrotum. Then he brought his other hand up and cradled the scrotum in it, gently exploring my testicles with his fingers and squeezing them at intervals. His right hand moved to the base of the sac, under my legs, and traced a path between there and the start of the cleft of my bottom.
And he repeated the motions. The sensation was incredible.
He moved a hand from my testicles and felt slowly up my penis, whilst still massaging the testicles and under his legs. I gasped. James looked up at me. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," I gasped. "I've never felt anything like this!"
"You've got some already."
He was looking at the little pool of fluid at the tip of my penis. I nodded.
Avoiding the fluid, he gave more strokes to it, as if fascinated by its length and breadth and warmth, and possibly because, at only fourteen, he had an adult in his control. It was obvious to him that I was enjoying the sensations he was producing. My breathing was once again fast and deep, and my pulse was at speed, as James could feel through my penis's movement.
He stopped, removed both hands and looked up at me. "Nice?" he asked.
"Hmm." I was coming down from the clouds, full of emotion. I looked down and smiled as tenderly as I used to when he was asleep in my bed in Amberdale.
"Did you enjoy doing that?" I asked.
"Yes. It's the fist time I've really explored someone else's body."
"It sounds as though you don't want it to be the last. James; promise me something. If you ever have the opportunity to do something like that again, make sure it's with me. I……I can't stand the thought of you doing something like that for anybody else. You know you can trust me not to do something you don't want. There are so many evil people out there……I don't want you hurt."
What made me come out with that I don't know. Well, I suppose I do. It was just that I didn't want to lose him to anyone else, not now. And I was aware that after the canals we would see each other only occasionally.
He smiled at me. "I'm not going to make a habit of approaching strangers in the street to ask if I can grope them," he replied.
"Don't even joke about it!" I surprised myself, and him, by my vehemence. "Anyway that's not what I meant. Well, yes it is, but only partly. Even when you've known somebody for ages as a friend, you don't really know what they're like when it comes to intimacy like this. You're lucky with me. I wouldn't do anything which would hurt or damage you or which you didn't want. I promise. But not everyone is so trustworthy. Even in a few supposed lifelong relationships there's rape, sometimes, and violence. If I thought that what I've done had in any way made you expose yourself to that I'd …." I paused. "I don't know. Come and rescue you, I suppose."
James looked at me again, surprise on his face together with a smile which faded as he saw how serious I was.
"Martin," he said, standing up, "I'm not interested in doing anything like that with anyone else. Thanks, though."
"I mean it."
"I know."
"Do you want to carry on with the game?"
During our exchange, the physical excitement had died down a little. I wanted to give him the opportunity to stop matters there if he felt he could handle no more of this new experience at the moment. But then it wasn't a new experience really, was it? We'd played other, less complicated games before. I smiled at him again.
As I looked at him his erection grew again, and I felt shaky with the anticipation that I was entering ground I'd only trodden with him as a child.
"No," he said. "Let's carry on."