Graham and Brett accepted my folks' invitation (at my request) to join us on a holiday at Lake Somerset, NW of Brisbane, renowned for its fresh-water fishing and boating. For us salts, it meant a week's change from the seaside.
My mates slept over that night in order to get an early start next morning. Meanwhile, that afternoon, mom made her super-duper special burgers with double everything. The moment the aroma wafted into the house next door, Graham appeared, wearing a cool surfer T and cargo shorts.
"Your nose is working okay," dad grinned as the grommet jumped the fence, then dropped his bag on the lawn. "Your timing is perfect."
"Smells great!" A third of the burger vanished between his lips, then, with his mouth full, he turned to Brett, "How's it, Conan?"
"Just remember one thing, Lighty, there'll be no place to run and hide at the holiday park."
"Yeah, but I've got Mr Taranto on my side."
"Leave me out of your fights!" dad smiled. "I don't have the energy to keep up with you kids."
"Oh, c'mon Mr T! You can't leave me at the mercy of these bullies!"
I woke next morning to the sight of two empty spare beds. The ensuite shower was running. Then Brett came into the room, carrying two coffees. He was already dressed in board shorts and a loose singlet.
"Cover that thing before I come anywhere near you," he ordered, eyeing my piss boner.
"How come you're up so early?" I asked as I rearranged the covers.
Brett placed the coffees on the bedside table. "Too excited to sleep. Besides, I helped your dad pack the Kombi."
"We were gonna leave your slack ass behind but your mom protested. She said she couldn't leave her little baby all alone to fend for himself."
We hit the road before sunrise. Graham fell asleep within less than half an hour. For my folks, this was a special trip; the 18th anniversary of their honeymoon at the park. There, a certain little tadpole got together with a certain little egg, and a certain little wrinkled Kyle emerged nine months later.
After settling into our bungalow at the park, Brett, Graham and I set out to take a look around. We stopped at the park hall where quite a few teens were gathered, playing table tennis, video games, pool and table soccer. We ordered cold drinks at the counter, then sat at a table to suss out the scene. A group of three girls made no secret of their interest in us. One of them approached, revealing an open midriff; always a turn-on for me. And she was pretty. They all were. "Do you mind if we join you?" she smiled sweetly.
The bare midriff belonged to Rochelle. She definitely had her eye on Brett. Hey, so did the other two who introduced themselves as Tammy and Mo, Mo being short for Maureen. They hailed from over west, Perth, and had traveled cross-country with their folks--all friends--in three separate trailers--kinda like a huge family vacation. Meanwhile, they were under the impression that Graham was 15. I was about to correct them when a sudden pain shot through my shins. It hurt so much I wanted to nail the little shit, but he continued to wear his innocent grin, secure in the knowledge that he was safe. At least for now.
We met the girls again that night at the hall. Brett and Rochelle quickly became an item. On the walk back to our bungalow, Graham asked, "does she know you wanna get into her pants?"
"I think she wants it, mate...even more than I do."
"You'd reckon she'd be more choosey, huh?" The grommet ducked but not in time to avoid a clip across the ear.
When I woke next morning, Brett and my dad were already fishing on the lake. I joined my mom in the open-plan kitchen where she was preparing breakfast. "Having a good time, mom?"
"Lovely." Mom was a very good looking woman. She easily turned heads, even Brett's. "I remember when dad and I came here for our honeymoon. This is where you were conceived."
"You're looking pretty relaxed...and pretty."
"Aren't I always pretty?"
"Yeah, mom--but you know what I mean."
"I know," she smiled before hugging me. "And thanks for saying that."
Just then, Graham wandered into the room, making no attempt to hide the woody lurking in his boxers. "Cool, do we all get a hug in the morning?"
"Want one?" my mom asked.
Prior to breakfast, Graham and I donned our Speedos and took a swim in the lake. The early mist still hovered lazily over the glassy surface. In the silver haze, we saw the silhouette of Brett and my dad sitting in the rowboat: an idyllic scene, but I didn't have the patience for fishing, and my dad knew it. That's why I wasn't invited. Meanwhile, Graham and I enjoyed the cool caress of the fresh water; swimming and splashing around like a couple of idiots.
"Hey, Kyle! There's nobody around. Let's swim nude!"
"What if the girls arrive?"
"They'll run for the hills once they see my sea-monster!"
"Or die laughing."
"Yeah...when they see yours, you mean."
An hour later, as the boat glided silently to shore, Brett's eyes popped when he realized Graham and I were naked. However, dad, unperturbed, simply carried on regardless and pulled the boat onto the sandy bank. His nonchalance managed to calm Brett who, in any case, was more interested in showing off their two good-size bass.
"Jeez! I didn't know the fish in there were that big!" Graham commented with raised eyebrows. "I'm not swimming naked in there again!"
"Don't worry, boyo," my dad laughed, holding the two fish aloft. "These guys don't care too much for worm."
Back at the bungalow, Brett gutted and scaled our breakfast, and impressed the hell outta my folks with his expertise in the kitchen. He grilled the fish to perfection, and served them with fried tomato and mushrooms on toast. The meal was a huge hit with everyone, including the beaming chef himself.
We took a trip in the Kombi that day to see the local sights and to look for bargains at the arts and crafts market in town. Brett spotted a cool necklace made of polished abalone which he bought for Susan. I found a pair of Ezekiel board shorts in my size. As a cheapskate, I usually waited for the sales but my size had inevitably sold out by then. The shorts featured a button fly and a zip pocket over the side pocket. They showed off my legs pretty well and the button fly accentuated my bulge. Yeah! They also hung low on the hips and stopped just above the knees. My folks were cool enough to buy them for me.
By late afternoon we'd returned to the holiday park where Brett and I helped my dad collect firewood for the barbecue. The air was still warm, but tempered a little by the setting orange sun which cast long cool shadows across the green.
Brett and dad planned another fishing trip for early next morning. "You and my dad are getting along like mates rather than a dad and a teen," I commented later.
"Your dad is totally cool, and he is more like a friend than a dad. He doesn't treat me like a kid. Hey, he doesn't even treat the grommet like a kid...well, except for the ban on beer."
After the barbie, we hit the hall to shoot a little pool. Rochelle made an instant beeline for Brett. They chatted for a minute, then took a walk, but not before Brett gave me a wink. I watched him place his arm around her as they disappeared into the night. Then Tammy and Mo invited Graham and me for a walk down to the lake.
Graham was first to ditch his clothes and dive in. He was waist-deep and bug-eyed when he saw Tammy's firm moonlit breasts bouncing toward him. A minute later, the rest of us were also skinny dipping.
Mo surprised by lunging at me and pressing her lips to mine. Her tongue sprang into action and immediately searched for my tonsils. At the same time, my erection pressed against her stomach. I noticed Graham staring at us in mild shock. Tammy made a desperate dash for the grommet who quickly dove to one side, then swam like the dickens for shore. He was in no mood to risk his virginity that particular night.
I was first to wake next morning and decided to go for a run through the park, then up the highway and into town. It was one of those magic mornings when the air seemed unusually invigorating. Its freshness and coolness inspired the energy in me, which seemed in bizarre contrast to the tranquility of the still-sleeping town. By the time I returned, Brett and dad were heading to the jetty, which jutted into the fog-laden lake like something from a fairy tale. My mate, who carried a box of fishing tackle, greeted my breathless arrival with a horrified, "Ew! You're all damn sweaty!"
"Run?" my dad asked. "You? This is my son?"
"C'mon, dad. I run now and then."
Mom was tidying the main bedroom when I wandered in. "You boys must pick up all those clothes lying on the floor of your room."
"It's a boys' room, mom. It's supposed to look like that." For a moment I wondered if she'd spotted, as I did earlier, the tell-tale love stains on Brett's boxers. Then I kissed mom on the cheek.
"Yuck! You're all sweaty!"
"Yep!" I wrapped her in my arms and gave her a big bear hug.
She couldn't resist a giggle, but turned her head away and screwed her nose. "Yuck! And you smell awful!"
Just then, Graham waddled sleepily through the kitchen on his way to the toilet. "G'day, Mrs T." Once again, he made no secret of the tent in his boxers, which bemused my mom.
Brett and dad arrived home with more fish, which our personal chef cooked for breakfast. Then we teens hired three mountain bikes and spent most of the day touring the hilly wooded areas and hiking trails that offer spectacular views of the lake, with its surface area of more than 10,000 acres. The scenery was so awe-inspiring, our conversation reflected that of a group of conservationists and environmentalists rather than a bunch of teens. We were genuinely impressed--in an almost spiritual way.
Upon reaching the holiday park via the back roads, we returned the bikes, then dumped our clothing and dove into the refreshing coolness of the lake. We were so damn hot we didn't care about revealing our naughty bits. Neither did anyone else, for that matter. The atmosphere at the park was laidback and friendly.
That night we dined at a restaurant. Brett and I were allowed a beer each but the grommet was restricted to cola. That didn't stop his enthusiasm for talking over the top of Brett in his eagerness to tell my folks about the fantastic day we enjoyed. I sat back and let them do all the chatting, chuffed that my two special mates were sharing such a great experience on a family holiday with my folks.
Later in the week, the girls invited us to visit their trailer. "My folks are going out," Rochelle explained. "Maybe we can play cards or something. How about strip poker?"
"Hey," Brett laughed. "We'll trash you guys."
"Don't bet on it."
After supper, Brett, Graham and I were dressing in our room when I noticed Graham putting on an extra pair of everything. "What the hell are you doing?"
"They might catch me cheating so I'm going prepared."
"You're scared to sit there naked? `Cause that's what's gonna happen, mate. Those girls are gonna whip your naked grommet ass."
"No they won't!"
"Yeah, right. This I gotta see."
Rochelle's trailer was immense and featured all the mod cons! I figured her folks must be loaded. "We've decided," she began after we'd all settled around the dining table, "that we're going to blow your lights out after you've lost all your clothes. That's our bonus."
Brett was shocked but remained straight-faced. "You're not serious?"
"Why not? You chicken?"
"Piss off, Rochelle. It's just that...Jesus...like with everyone staring?"
"Hey, chill. We can go somewhere if you want."
Not surprisingly, Graham was busted cheating after the first couple of hands. He removed two items of clothing; his sneakers. They were the only things he couldn't duplicate. Rochelle lost the first game and elected to remove her top. It was a dirty, low-down trick to focus the boys' beady eyes on her breasts, which adversely affected our concentration.
As the evening progressed, Graham was forced to shed more and more clothing. Eventually, he had nowhere to hide stolen aces. Each time he lost, he cussed like a trooper, only worse, causing the rest of us to crack up big time.
He was down to his boxers while everyone else was still comparatively clothed. My shoes, socks and shirt were off. Brett lost only one shoe--the clever dick. The girls' tops were off, while Mo was down to her panties.
With only one item of clothing remaining, and despite having worn enough gear to keep an Eskimo warm for an entire winter, Graham lost again. He gave me a pleading look as if I should save him from the inevitable. "Don't stare at me, mate," I grinned. "Take `em off."
Dead silence followed my comment as all eyes focused on the blushing and nervous grommet. He slowly removed his boxers with no chance of hiding his boner or the shiny blob of leakage. The girls were most impressed. "Next time you lose," Rochelle announced with an evil grin, "the winner gets to eat you."
"What if I win?" Brett smirked.
But Rochelle soon wiped the smug look off his face. "Then you eat him."
"Yeah, right. I'll eat a bowl of hot sour chili first."
As expected, Graham lost the next game. "Here," Rochelle said as she threw a pillow in his direction, "cover your face with this and pretend it's just you and me here." Then she ordered him to lie on his back.
All we heard from the grommet was a muffled whimper as Rochelle began to perform the deed. After a while, Graham removed the pillow and gazed--with a mix of fear and wonder--down the length of his muscled torso. Then, without warning, he threw his head back, raised his knees, and let out a helluva cry. A minute or two later, after regaining some composure, he gasped: "That's the most awesome thing that's ever happened to me."