It was after one in the morning and the moon was well up when Kipper put his pole away for the night. The fishing had been lean all night, but I just knew that they would start biting any minute. I cast again.
Kipper came up behind me, and for the fifth or sixth time that evening, he wrapped his arms around my belly and chest and pressed his naked body to the back of mine.
I paused from reeling in and leaned back in his arms.
He nuzzled in under my ear. “Come on, Stick,” he softly said. “I wanna go to bed.”
I reeled in while Kipper rested his cheek on my shoulder and rocked me gently in his arms. I stripped the shrimp from my hook, and Kipper released me so I could put away my pole. He stepped to the edge of the dock to take a piss and I joined him there, patting the smooth skin of his butt as my stream joined his. He grinned at me, shook off, and then waited for me to finish.
With the doors and windows open, we hadn’t bothered to turn on the inside lights. The room had a soft glow from the light reflected back off the dock and the surrounding water. We turned off the dock lights once we were inside, and there was still more than enough light from the almost full moon to find our way to the bed.
Kipper and I crawled into it from either side and met in the middle, moving close; nose to nose. His eyes fell to my cheek and then my neck, and he laid his fingertip on the hollow under my ear. “I used to get the urge… all the time… to touch you here,” he said, tapping his finger on the spot.
“Really?” I asked. “There? The hollow under my ear?”
He nodded. “Funny, but I used get the urge to lick you here.”
He leaned up over me, and held me by the shoulder. His hair fell across my face and I felt his wet tongue touch beneath my ear. Kipper was close enough for me to feel the warmth of his body; close enough to smell his hair and skin.
I closed my eyes and moaned softly as Kipper’s wet tongue probed under my ear and made me feel strangely weak.
With a squeeze to my shoulder, he leaned back and grinned. “You like that, huh?”
I nodded.
His eyes dropped to where his hand was squeezing. “Let me feel your muscles,” he said. “That’s another urge I get around you… to squeeze your muscles, or touch your skin.” He drew his finger, and his eyes, down my arm. “Sometimes I wanted to touch you so bad…”
“Kips,” I said, laying my hand on his waist, “if I had let myself, it would have been the same for me wanting to touch you. It’s just that I didn’t let myself think about you that way; you know? I mean…” I looked into the darkness past him, searching for the words. “The way I already felt about you — if I let myself think about you that way… and if you didn’t think about me that way…” My eyes returned to his. “That would have been hard.”
Kipper’s eyes went all soft. He slipped his hand behind my neck and pulled my lips to his.
We kissed softly, and our bodies moved together, legs entwining. For the next few minutes, we rubbed faces and ran our hands over each other, touching each other in all the admiring and appreciative ways that we’d only ever dreamed about. We both grew semi-erect, but we weren’t leading up to anything; we were simply enjoying each other’s body.
Eventually, I rolled to my back and Kipper draped himself on my side. With an arm over my chest, he laid his head on my shoulder and slipped a leg across mine. I rubbed my cheek on the top of his head and wrapped an arm up behind him; gently stroking my fingertips up and down the long lines of Kipper’s back. He quivered.
The scent of his hair, the smooth skin of his leg over mine, the way our bellies moved against each other as we breathed, the soft resting of his balls on my thigh, his warm breath on my chest, and most of all, the weight of his slender body on my side… all filled me with a mildly excited contentment. And I thought that nothing could feel as good as this. Nothing ever had.
“I’m in love with you, Sticks,” he whispered, his breath soft on my chest. “I’ve been in love with you since forever.”
I kissed the top of his head. “I’ve been stupid Kips, really stupid. I never let myself fall in love with you; I held back.” I squeezed him. “Shit, Kips. I don’t know. Maybe I never did a good job of holding back. Maybe I’ve really been in love with you for a long time too…“Kips,” I whispered, “I’m in love with you now.”
* * *
The night breeze had died, but it was long before dawn. Kipper’s skin was hot; actually hot. And his breath was hot on my throat. He was rubbing his cock on my hip, and it felt hard and thick. I had a hand behind his back and I was holding him against my hip, pulling on him with his thrusts. I had my other hand behind the knee he had across my middle, and I was holding the inside of his thigh down against my cock as I rubbed. That’s how I woke, my breath already ragged.
I turned my face to Kipper’s and our mouths met. I rolled up on my side, and our legs entwined. And suddenly, our hands were everywhere, and we probed each other’s mouth… desperately, even gutturally — moaning hungrily, loudly.
There is nothing hotter than a worked up fourteen-year-old boy who wakes up on his naked fifteen-year-old lover, unless it’s a fifteen-year-old boy who wakes up under his hard-cocked, writhing fourteen-year-old lover… whose skin and breath are hot and whose mouth is full of desire.
We rolled back and forth, mouths never parting; barely breathing. And then he was on top of me, holding my face in both hands, probing my mouth deeply while we rubbed cocks on naked bellies, slid smooth legs inside smooth legs, and I squeezed his butt in both hands.
Then I was on top, gripping the back of his shoulders while I chewed his neck and he arched back under me. We pumped hard now, with grunts and groans. Kipper pulled up his legs and spread them while I ground down, pressing his balls down with mine; and the two of us ground our cocks between us.
We hit a rhythm of long, pressing thrusts. In unison, we moaned, “Uh… uh… uh… ” And the bedsprings rocked.
And then I was bouncing us with my thrusts and Kipper’s hands were pawing at my back while I held his head with two hands full of hair and plunged my tongue into his mouth
Our bodies had gone all hard; every muscle like rock. Kipper clutched my back and I wrapped my arms under him. He cried out, “Ah! Ah!” in his breaking voice and I ground down against him with gritted teeth as I pumped out my own long, draining orgasm.
We kept going until the deep, crawling sensation finally died away in my balls. I began to slow the pumping of my hips and our kissing calmed, but didn’t stop. We were damp with sweat, and our bellies were slick with cum. Our kiss broke into little kisses; little nibbles of the lips. And then another long kiss that again broke into little kisses. And then I rolled to my back beside Kipper and we held hands as the heaving of our bellies slowed and our bodies began to dry.
We grew sleepy again.
Then Kipper rolled onto my side and nuzzled into my neck once more.
* * *
I woke in the late morning to the light touch of Kipper’s lips on mine, and the feeling that we hadn’t stirred at all in our sleep. He was still lying on my side, but had moved up on me so that when I opened my eyes, he was smiling down at me. He kissed me lightly again.
Kipper smoothed my hair back from my forehead, and kissed me again. I wrapped my arms over his back, and he kissed me again, longer.
We tried our second sixty-nine that morning.
We ate cereal for breakfast, and afterward, I watched Kipper as he went from window to window with his camera, looking for a shot, and I marveled. With his shoulder-length, brown hair, Kipper’s slender body was so beautiful, so graceful; he was like some creature from a fantasy world.
As far as I was concerned, he was perfect in every detail; from the curls of his hair to the shape of his high arching feet. His long arms and legs were those of a boy who had grown fast. But his torso was that of a youth, flawless in a symmetry of light muscles and absolutely smooth skin; skin that glowed, skin without even a freckle. And most amazing of all were his loose-hanging balls and cock, dangling so easily from his small but luxurious patch of black pubic hair.
I watched him and it was like seeing him — really seeing him — for the first time. And yet, his body was familiar now; intimately familiar.
When he passed by the bed, I pulled him down onto it with an arm around his waist. He grinned and took a picture, inches from my face just before I kissed him.
* * *
I watched him clean his camera after lunch, and after that, he held my guitar in his naked lap as he experimented with a few chords; his long spine showing as he bent over the guitar and his long hair falling over the side of his face. And it seemed to me that I could spend our whole time there just watching Kipper and loving it… well, and loving the other things we did.
We took a nap later. I woke from it on my stomach, to a room filled with the softening light of late afternoon, and with the warm weight of Kipper’s body stretched over the length of my back. He was hard again, but breathing regularly in sleep. I liked the feel of his body on my back and I grew hard.
Gently, I tensed and relaxed my butt under him; coaxing him awake, hopefully arousing him. And then Kip was moving, his cock rubbing against my butt. I moved too, flexing my butt under him and making small circles with my hips.
Kipper moved up over me and I felt the length of his cock settle in my crack. He wrapped his arms under my chest, and raising myself off the bed from my waist, I wrapped my arms over his; and we moved together.
His balls hung lightly down in the space behind my balls. His cock felt big and long in my crack, and I could feel the muscles of his belly and chest on my back. He chewed behind my ear and ground down on me, and it excited me.
Kipper got up from the bed. I kept my eyes closed and waited. Soon the bed jiggled as he climbed back on. The smell of coconut filled the air and then I felt him pressing in, feeling all wet in my crack. I bent my knees and lifted my butt under him, and suddenly he popped in.
I gasped.
“You OK?” Kipper asked in a whisper, his head just behind mine.
I nodded, spreading my knees and lifting my butt higher to ease the angle. And then he was all the way in; the skin of his loins against the back of my butt. He grabbed my shoulders and began to press into me.
I adjusted. I relaxed, and we went flat on the bed. I had to adjust again, and then we found a good angle. I murmured, “Umm.”
“You still OK?” Kipper asked, kissing the back of my neck. He felt thick inside my butt, but it wasn’t a bad feeling at all. He had moved his hands to my shoulders and his forearms rested on my back, and his legs lay outside mine, squeezing them together.
“Yeah,” I said, “It’s starting to feel good.”
That was all Kipper needed to hear. Holding tightly to my shoulders, he mouthed the side of my neck and began an easy rhythm in and out. The bedsprings squeaked and there was a squishing sound each time his skin pressed mine and then pulled off.
Grinding my own cock into the bed, pressing my balls on the sheet, I moved with him; his cock moving inside me; and I found that if I moved the right way, it felt very good.
It was physical, athletic; our hard bodies moving together, and Kipper feeling all lean and strong on me.
He ground in hard before he came, driving my hips and my cock down into the bed. I almost came with him, but then he was done and he rolled off, onto his back beside me.
He glanced at me; I looked at him.
“Did you want a turn?” he asked with a smile.
I nodded. “Yeah, I do, but don’t roll over.” I knelt up, and reaching under the backs of his thighs, I lifted his legs up, bending him at the waist.
Kipper laughed, getting the idea, and pulled his legs up higher, locking his ankles behind his head. “I don’t know how long I can stay like this,” he said.
Kneeling at his bottom, I retrieved the suntan oil from where he’d left it and spread some over my cock. “Just let me try,” I said. Then I placed my crown at his entrance.
Kipper smiled up at me. “I thought of this before, too,” he admitted.
I pressed forward. There was resistance, and then my crown popped in.
Kipper’s eyes closed and his brow furrowed. “You OK?” I asked.
He nodded without opening his eyes. I glanced down at the sight of my cock with the head buried inside Kipper, and almost came right then. But I held off, and slowly pushed in. I watched my shaft disappear inside his bottom while at the same time I felt the tight ring of his entrance travel down my length until it reached the bottom and I was all the way in. “Oh,” I murmured, closing my own eyes. “This is good.”
I pulled out and pushed back in. I opened my eyes and watched my cock appear and disappear between us as I moved his tightness up and down my shaft. And each time I pressed into him, I could feel his warmth and the soft articulations of his insides. I could feel his bottom bones press down around the base of my shaft. And I felt my balls settle on his butt.
I lifted my eyes to Kip’s. He was watching my body, and looked like he enjoyed watching my body. I laid my palm on his cock and balls and gently circled it.
Kipper grew hard again. He unlocked his legs from behind his head and I moved my knees forward to keep his butt lifted up with the tops of my thighs. He slowly let his legs relax out to the sides and began to move with me, circling his hips to meet my thrusts.
Our eyes met and I lowered myself to him. “Kips,” I whispered, my face close to his, “I like this.”
Kipper didn’t say anything right away, but instead, ran his hands over my shoulders and arms. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s different.” He glanced up into my eyes. “I could like it.”
I stretched forward to kiss his lips, and he lifted his head to meet me. We circled hips together, and the kiss deepened. I lowered my weight onto him, sliding my knees back. I couldn’t go as deeply into him as we flattened out, but his tightness still traveled well down my shaft. And in this position, my belly rubbed on the underside of his hard cock.
Kipper wrapped his arms around my neck and I grabbed the back of his shoulders. I sucked on his collarbone and he pressed his cheek against the side of my head. Quiet grunts and moans passed between us as I pumped and Kipper ground his cock up against my stomach. Adding to all those sensations, my butt felt slick with suntan oil and Kip’s semen, and somehow, that made it even hotter.
* * *
“That,” I breathlessly said after my orgasm came to a shuddering conclusion, “was excellent.”
“Yeah, I liked it, too,” Kipper said running his fingers into the back of my hair. He was still hard. I could feel his erection against my belly.
“Do we need to take care of you?” I asked.
“No,” he said, holding the side of my face to his. “But next time, I think I could come this way.”’
My softening cock, twitched.
* * *
We fished that night, but didn’t keep any fish to eat the next day because my dad would be coming to join us in the afternoon and he would stay overnight.
In the night, I woke draped over Kip’s backside, hard and rubbing, my breath coming fast. I woke when he rolled under me, onto his back, and I felt his hardness under my leg. His flesh was warm, and his hips were rocking. I moved up over him, and like the night before, we grabbed on and ground ourselves together while exploring mouths and bodies.
* * *
“You know what I like best so far?” Kipper asked the next morning as we dressed to go pick up my dad.
“You mean of the things we’ve tried?” I asked, watching as Kipper stretched to pull a T-shirt over his lean torso.
“Yeah.”
“What?” I asked.
Kipper settled the shirt on himself, and then stepped close to lay his hand on my still bare chest. “What I like most,” he said, looking into my eyes with those big brown ones of his, “is when you wake me in the middle of the night, all hot and already going.”
“When I wake you?” I asked with a laugh. “I might have last night, but the night before, you woke me.”
Kipper grinned, slipping an arm behind my waist to pull our bellies together. “Maybe we’re waking up like that,” he said. “That’s way cool.”
I draped my arms over his shoulders. “Last night was way cool; night before last was fucking incredible!” I put my forehead on his.” I like waking up and rubbing together like that best of all too. It’s like… really crazy that after all the times we’ve been getting off together during the day, we still wake each other in the night like that.”
With a chuckle, Kipper stroked my hair back and brushed his lips on mine. “Guess neither of us better sleep with your dad tonight,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up mischievously.
* * *
Dad took us for Mexican food at Palmetto Inn, and then grocery shopping, buying New York Strip steaks to fix for supper.
“Dad,” I said, pausing at the display of suntan lotions and oils, “Kipper and I need more of this.” I held up a bottle of coconut suntan oil.
Kipper snickered and I almost kicked him.
“Already?” Dad asked.
“We’re using a lot,” I said. “Don’t wanna burn.”
Behind my dad, Kipper looked away, stifling a laugh.
“Use sunscreen, too,” Dad admonished. “But we’ll get you more of the oil.” He bought six bottles.
* * *
Dad worked with us that afternoon to mount hardware he’d bought for the shack; pole holders, drink holders, racks for the boat house. He’d bought shelves and brackets for inside, and sandpaper and paint for outside. He showed us what he wanted done with everything so we would know what to do after he returned home the next day.
That evening, my dad grilled the steaks for us, and then the three of us fished late, with an easy listening station on the radio for Dad. We kept all that we caught, which was close to a hundred and fifty pounds of fish. We kept it for Dad to take back with him, except for one good-sized trout for our lunch the next day.
He showed us how to seine from the deck, and when I got excited over the small fish and crustaceans we brought up, Dad promised to bring a cheap aquarium for me to keep specimens in.
I had put the clean, second set of sheets on the double bed for Dad, but he tried insisting that we take it. “That’s what you guys have been sleeping on,” he said. “I’ll just take one of the bunks.”
But I refused as respectfully as I could. If Kipper and I slept together, we might wake each other in the night, already humping. And there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Dad would wake up.
So Dad slept on the double bed and Kipper and I took bunk beds; and we behaved that night, though I missed sleeping with Kip. He and I had slept together only three nights at the shack, but already I missed him, and I missed waking up to his body, hot in the night.
When we ferried Dad back to the marina the next day, he took two rolls of Kipper’s film to be developed, and he left us money with specific instructions to eat out some night at Louie’s Backyard on the bayside, which had an all-you-can-eat buffet of prime rib and seafood; and which also had docks we could tie up to.
Another restaurant, Blackbeard’s, was just a shack back then. We ate there for lunch with Dad before he left for home.
Kipper and I left the marina to head back to the shack, sitting side by side on the pilot seat of the boat. Away from the marina, Kipper took my hand and gave me a big smile. “I missed you,” he yelled, over the engine.
I nodded, squeezing his hand. It wasn’t that we’d just gone almost twenty-four hours without sex right after having gone three days with almost nothing but sex; the first sex of our lives. It was that I hadn’t been able to hold Kipper, or feel his arms around me, or touch my lips to his lips. I squeezed his hand and pushed the throttle all the way forward.
Kipper turned toward me, slipping his fingers inside the leg of my shorts and tickling up the inside of my leg while burying his mouth into the side of my neck.
I wrapped an arm over his back and started to grow hard, but then the boat started bouncing over the waves, and Kipper pulled his hand back, smiling. We would have to wait.
Kipper tied up the boat and I led the way back into the shack. Inside, I pulled him into my arms and we kissed. I clutched him to me, squeezing him hard. He felt so good in my arms; it felt so good to hold him — I said it, almost before I thought it… “Kips,” I said, pressing my cheek to his. “I love you.”
He nodded his cheek against mine. “I love you, Sticks.”
We kissed again and my gut clenched with what I felt for him. We squeezed each other tightly. Our mouths opened and pressed almost painfully to each other.
We stood there for several minutes, rocking in each other’s arms while the afternoon breeze blew in through the windows and washed over us. Kipper in my arms, me in Kipper’s; kissing Kipper, tonguing with Kipper…water quietly lapping at the shack’s pilings. Somewhere a seagull cried out.
My gay dreams may have been romantic at times, but falling deeply in love with Kipper was nothing I’d ever dreamed about; nothing I could have ever dreamed about — not like this.
And yet, my fifteen-year-old heart was designed for love like this. I just had no idea until it took me. I clutched Kipper to me and whispered it to him because I wanted to; I needed to. “I love you with all my heart.”
“Sticks,” he whispered, running his fingers through my hair and pressing the side of his face to mine. “Me too.”
Lifting Kipper’s shirt, I pressed my hands to the warm, firm flesh of his sides. His body was so taut; his waist so very narrow. Kipper pulled up the back of my shirt, pulling it up over my head and off. I pulled off his and murmured my pleasure when I felt the skin of his belly and chest against mine.
We stepped apart to pull off our shorts, watching each other, our cocks springing up rock hard. I wanted him, but I also wanted to take care of him; to take care of Kipper. Handing him one of the new bottles of suntan oil, I climbed up onto the bed, and lying on my back, I pulled my knees up and out to the sides. I hadn’t tried the inverted turtle thing; not on the turtle end — I wanted to watch Kipper’s face and see his body while he did me.
Kipper quickly obliged, kneeling at my butt. Our eyes went to my bottom and his cock as he pushed in. And then we watched each other move as he hit a rhythm and I matched it. Kipper threw his head back, his long hair hanging back from his head, his neck looking thick, with all his chest and belly muscles working.
Then he slowly lowered his weight onto me and his tight belly pressed my cock and balls. He felt so damned good on me that I stretched under him, arching back, feeling his weight between my legs, wrapping my arms around his slim torso. We kissed and wrapped each other up; tightening into a ball.
Kipper pumped hard when he came. Then he rolled onto his back, and we made another tight ball with me on top.
By the time I came, he was hard again, so I just scooted up over him, straddling his waist, and backed onto his cock. And I found out that riding Kipper’s cock felt awfully damn good. Sitting on his lap, with him pointing straight up inside me somehow hit a lot of good places inside. Especially when I rocked my hips. In that position, I could rub my perineum on him. I could rub my perineum on Kipper’s pubic bone.
Kipper took longer to come the second time and I grew rock hard all over again. My cock flopped all over Kipper’s belly until he grabbed it and held on until he came. And then I got him to try riding too — riding my cock, and he liked it.
That afternoon we found out how easy, and pleasant, it was to casually come again and again.
* * *
Over the next few days we learned more than that. We learned about what we liked as well as how to please each other. I learned how to make it feel good for Kipper, bottom and top; and he learned how to make it good for me. We learned how to come at the same time. We learned how to drive each other crazy, especially when sucking cocks, and we learned how to hold ourselves on the edge of our orgasms for ages.
Like lovers of any age, we learned all the hot little buttons. We learned intimate secrets about each other; we discovered and revealed things about ourselves. And with those discoveries and revelations came incredible sex, and an easy and deep companionship.
Our days slipped into a routine of no routine, and a comfortable domesticity. We stayed naked most of the time; especially in the afternoons when fewer boats were around. We touched each other whenever we felt like it, which was continually.
How can I describe the feeling of going to bed in Kipper’s arms at night, or of him in my arms? How can I describe how it felt to go from being alone; the only gay guy I knew and desperate to know another guy like me… how can I describe going from that to being lovers with Kip who loved me all along? We had somehow, magically become a couple… a unit… a bonded pair. We belonged together now. We belonged in each other’s arms.
How can I describe going from unsatisfied curiosity, longing and desire to the fun experimentation, easy nakedness, and constant satisfaction I found with Kipper.
And how could I ever describe waking up with him every morning; whether entwined or just touching; whether we made love or not? How can I describe how it felt when I woke before him and watched his face, all restful in sleep; all beautiful and perfect? Could I ever explain all the things I felt inside when I sat up beside him and slowly surveyed his sleeping form, square centimeter by square centimeter; and found him to be completely perfect in long-legged, youthful grace and beauty?
And how mysterious, how strange that my heart stirred when my eyes lingered at his middle, over his exquisitely shaped balls, so well outlined in his relaxed and distended scrotum — my heart was stirred; even when my cock was not — by the way the moist skin of his ball sack splayed over his slender thigh, and by the way his mostly flaccid, morning cock lay thickly out to one hip or the other. Does it sound strange to say that the sight of his cock and balls stirred me? They did. They were beautiful to me; utterly beautiful. And I could touch him there with any part of me; just like he could touch me.
* * *
I stood on the dock, trying to remember what day of the week it was. The sun was setting over the mainland and I watched as the bottom of the golden disk touched the horizon… Wednesday; it was Wednesday; a week since Dad had been there… less than two weeks since that first night for Kipper and me. But it seemed so much longer.
At the last minute, I sensed Kipper behind me, but it was too late, he shoved me in. It was the third time in two days.
The first time, I quickly climbed from the water and chased him around the shack to the other side before taking him into the water. We wrestled; it was fun.
The second time had been that morning. I crawled slowly and resolutely up the steps. Kipper ran to the other side of the shack again and I followed step by step. When I got to that side of the shack, Kipper ducked back inside and I followed, step by step. Laughing, he scooted around the side, and I followed. He ran around to the other side. This time I ducked down under the windows and doubled back.
He actually screamed when I sprang at him as he ran out from inside. I shoved him into the water. Brushing my hands, I went back inside.
The third time was too much. “It’s not fuckin’ funny, Kips!” I called out, climbing from the water.
He ducked around to the other side, but I didn’t go after him. I shook water from my hair and sat down on the corner of the fishing bench to catch the final setting of the sun, to dry off, and to be pissed at Kipper.
He tried teasing me into chasing him; peeking around corners, calling “yoo-hoo!”
I ignored him, and once the sun set, I went inside. I took a seat at the table, inwardly pleased that my non-reaction seemed to be getting to Kipper. I opened a book to read.
Kipper came inside. “Sticks?”
I ignored him.
He pushed the table away far enough take the book from my hand and straddle my lap. “Are you really pissed?” Kipper asked, pushing my hair back on either side of my head, resting his forearms on my shoulders, and wiggling down into my lap, wiggling his cock and balls onto mine.
“You’re not fighting fair,” I said.
Kipper grinned. “Who wants to fight? Are you really pissed?”
I placed my hands on Kipper’s sides and slid my palms down to his butt, pulling him comfortably closer. “Getting dunked gets old fast, Kips,” I said.
He put his forehead on mine, his hair dangling down around our faces. “I’m sorry, Sticks. I won’t do it again.”
I smiled; I had too. “Numbskull,” I said. “You can do it… just give me a few days in between.”
Kipper kissed me lightly, and then kissed me again, longer. Our cocks, hanging together between my legs, began to thicken.
“Are you getting tired of kissing me?” he asked quietly.
“You’re kidding, right?”
He shook his head, his forehead rolling on mine. “No. We’ve been kissing for two solid weeks. I’m just worried you don’t like it as much as me.”
“More than you,” I said. “I love your mouth. You know that. I love kissing you.”
Kipper chuckled. “And I’ve always liked your mouth. You know that.” He kissed me lightly. “But it’s not just that… that I like your mouth. It’s…” he searched for words. “It’s exciting. Kissing…”
“Another guy?” I asked.
He nodded. “But not just another guy,” he said. “Because it’s you.”
We were getting hard. I reached between our bodies and pulled our cocks up between us. Kipper pressed forward, and I squeezed our cocks together in my hands.
I casually jacked them together. “Us kissing is exciting for me too,” I said, “because it’s you.” And then I grinned, looking down between us. “And it’s exciting because it’s… exciting; because kissing you feels so damned good.”
“But you’ll tell me if you get tired of it?” Kipper asked, kissing the side of my face and gently rocking his hips.
“I’m not going to get tired of us kissing, Kips.”
Kipper wrapped his arms over my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine; still rocking his hips as I jacked us together. “You know what?” He asked in a whisper.
“What?”
“Of all the things we do, I like kissing you most of all.”
I smiled. “I thought your favorite thing was waking up in the night, rubbing and hot.”
Kipper brushed his lips on my cheek. “And what do we do when we wake that way?” he asked, again in a whisper. “What do we do when we rub together?”
“Oh,” I whispered, smiling. “We kiss.”
Kipper lifted his cheek from mine and brushed his lips on mine as he said, “We open our mouths, and…” He covered my mouth with his.
* * *
Hotel California was playing on the radio. Kip had a line in the water and I was trying to net a few shrimp as they drifted past the lights; nothing was biting on lures.
I began dancing to the music. Not a dancing-with-a-girl kind of dancing, but a foot tapping, hopping-around dance as I watched for floating shrimp.
“What are you doing?” Kipper asked, amused. “Are you trying to dance?”
I shot him the finger, keeping my eyes on the water. “I’m doing the Krueger, Native American fish dance. Big magic. Gonna catch big fish.”
Laughing, Kipper set his pole in a holder and came over to dance with me. We started carrying on like they did in war dances we’d seen in movies, only with a little butt bumping. Still didn’t catch many fish.
The next night, for our fish dancing, we took towels and fastened them on with belts so they were like breechcloths. We put a local rock station on the radio and painted stripes onto each other’s face with nose-coat sunscreen. And then we danced.
We stomped, and rocked, and bumped butts; and the towels made it sexy as hell. I threw Kipper over my shoulder and ran down the dock and back, and then climbed onto Kipper’s back and he ran with me. We danced back to front and front to front. We slipped our legs between each other’s and grabbed each other by the butt, pulling our crotches tight. And then we circled and swiveled them together.
We flexed our muscles and ran hands over shoulders and backs. We sweated, and our bodies slid on each other. Our breathing came faster, and became more ragged. We brushed faces and our nostrils flared. We took each other down onto the dock planking and clawed at belts and towels, pulling them away. We buried our faces into each other’s loins. We sucked and licked and pleasured our mouths as well as between our legs. We each did what we wanted, and we took our time as the night breeze dried our sweat and the stars twinkled above.
We fell asleep on the dock, and I woke later to the feel of Kipper’s mouth returning to my cock. He was kneeling beside me, so I pulled his hips around and over me so that his cock wagged over my face and his balls hung down over my eyes. I pulled him down, burying my face into his crotch as his warm, wet mouth moved deliciously up and down my cock.
When I took him into my mouth, he pumped his hips, thrusting into my throat, and I was mildly surprised that he didn’t gag me. I could handle it now. I liked it.
We danced again two nights later.
* * *
We lotioned each other up at night, and sometimes in the afternoons. I had taken the book, Shogun, and we took turns reading from it to each other; one reading while the other applied lotion. Or one played the guitar while the other sat behind him and spread lotion over his shoulders, arms, and back.
It sounds silly to say this with all the other things we did, but applying lotion that way was some of our most intimate time together. It was us taking care of each other… just like when we bathed each other, only more so.
I loved spreading cool lotion over Kipper’s long arms, or even better, over his long thighs. Or from his shoulders down his slender back to his narrow waist, and then slowly over his tight little butt — his beautiful, tight little butt. I enjoyed making him lie on his back while I straddled his waist and spread lotion over his tight pecs and hard belly. It wasn’t just me taking care of Kip, running my hands over him like that was sort of like owning him.
I loved it when Kipper sat on my butt and spread lotion up from my butt, up my spine, out to my ribs, up the long muscles of my back, onto my shoulders and neck. And when he got hard, and used lotion to lube himself and push into me; I loved that, too. I loved it when he filled me and laid his weight down on my back and chewed on the back of my neck, and we moved together.
* * *
We quickly developed our own terms and pet phrases. Like tummy touching. That’s when one of us slid an arm behind the waist of the other guy and pulled our tummies together.
Muscle grabbing was when one of us wanted to squeeze the other’s shoulder muscles, or biceps or thighs. I insisted that butt grabbing was butt grabbing, but Kipper insisted that it was just more muscle grabbing.
Which brings up back hugging; something Kipper especially liked. He liked doing it — coming up to hug me from behind, his cock and balls draping my butt while he nuzzled in under my ear. And he liked me doing it to him. He liked leaning back in my arms, pulling my arms tightly around him.
Bed wrestling started one morning that second week after we woke and made love. Kipper told me to get up and fix breakfast. I told him to. One thing led to another and after hard wrestling for several minutes, we managed to roll each other off the bed at the same time.
Bed wrestling became a frequent event.
We got more exercise than that, though. We worked out daily, taking on the role of training partner for each other; holding down legs for sit-ups or back extensions, trying to out do each other on push-ups or squats. I loved Kipper’s body; I loved watching him as he worked it. And the idea of sculpting our bodies together that summer appealed to us… on several levels.
In the afternoons, we went across to the salt flats on the other side of the channel, and I ran patterns for Kipper to practice his passing.
Oh, and there was streak skiing. Yep — skiing naked.
There were more boats out in the mornings than in the afternoons, but morning was better for both skiing and snorkeling because the waves were still down and the water was still clear. The first time we streak skied was on our second Friday morning at the shack.
We had been snorkeling naked after traveling well up the bay, but we hadn’t been seeing much more than each other’s floating cocks because fish were shying away from us. “It’s my dick,” Kipper said when we stood up in the shoulder deep water. The corners of his mouth curled up. “My dick’s so big, it scares them off. The fish think it’s a sea serpent.”
“It scares them all right,” I agreed. “They think it’s a small parasitic worm.”
“It’s bigger than yours,” he declared.
“In your dreams.”
He grinned. “I had one last night that I’ll have to tell you about sometime.”
“Tell me now,” I said.
He gave me a sly look. “Uh, uh. I’ll save it for some time when I can show you a few things.”
“Can you show me in the boat?” I asked, intrigued.
“Nah! I think it’s time to try naked skiing.”
I looked around. The only other boats were just spots on the horizon. “Sure,” I said. “You first.”
“Wimp,” Kipper said laughing, and headed for the boat.
“No vests,” Kipper insisted, though we always wore flotation vests when skiing. “It’s not naked skiing if we have vests on.”
I stood to steer, because the wind felt good over my body as I took the boat in big “S”s and circles in the water. Kipper skied slalom behind. And I thought he looked hotter than hell the way his muscles strained against the towrope and his cock and balls rode in front of his crossed legs.
Then I took my turn.
The sky was high and clear. Sun glinted on the surface of the water. Wind blew through my hair and over my body. The water beneath was crystal clear, and the bottom was alternately grassy and sandy. The sensation of skiing over it was a lot like flying. And as I flew, I caught glimpses of fish darting off to the sides.
Kipper steered while looking backward, watching me, and each time I looked his way, he did something different, like blowing a kiss, or looking me up and down and giving me a thumbs up… or hanging out his tongue.
We became so occupied looking at each other or down into the water that we didn’t notice the boat with the three fishermen until it was already past, only a couple hundred yards away.
“We’re going to have some reputation around the bay,” I groused at Kipper as he helped me aboard.
“Nah,” he said. “You’re cock’s not that big.”
“You asshole!” I growled, grabbing him around the waist from behind as he was bending to put down the slalom ski. I backed onto the seat in front of the console, pulling Kipper down into my lap, and then I held him while I tickled him.
He tried to squirm away, and we rolled to the floor of the boat, laughing. He struggled, but I got him onto his back and sitting astride his waist, I pinned his wrists to the deck.
“OK, now,” I said, grinning down at him, “tell me about that dream you had.”
The corners of Kipper’s mouth curled up. “Get the suntan oil, and I’ll show you.”
Updated on 4 December 2024