For the most part I see my stories as fantasy, though especially with this story, I hope there are elements that ring true. For those of you expecting extended scenes of torrid sex, you may be disappointed, though you will find—I hope—sensuality and eroticism. This perhaps reflects my own journey and what I feel is important about this story. (And for those of you who do want more graphic encounters, you might visit some of my earlier tales.)

--Will

Coming to Terms

by
Will S
2006

Chapter 6

I first became aware of the light. I slowly came to, realizing it must have been about 6:00. But that wasn't what woke me.

"Ahhnnngh."

I turned. Eric had partially kicked the sleeping bag off him. He was uncovered down to his knees. His penis was fully erect. He was about four and a half inches, maybe close to five, and about as thick as my thumb. It throbbed with the pulse of his rapidly beating heart. His testicles were pulled up tight to his body. They weren't huge, best I could tell, not like a horny guy in his late teens (or mid-twenties), but neither were they the jelly beans of childhood. No, this boy was well on his way into puberty. I gazed at his downy-soft public hair. It could have been the finest hair on his body. It was new enough that it lacked the characteristic curls of full maturity.

What a vision: A lean, tightly muscled boy, perfect in every detail. Michelangelo couldn't have created a more perfect image (and I'm sure he'd had loved carving Eric in marble!) That's what his boy-sized cock reminded me of: smooth marble, pale, blue-veined. He was stretched so taut, that the skin actually glistened. I wondered if maybe when the doctor had cut him, he'd taken too much, but...no...the tightness of his rigid tool only added to its magnetic pull.

Now I had the full view. From his tousled hair, to that beautific, soft, unblemished face with eyebrows offset from his blond hair by their darkness, hidden eyes twitching under hillocks of eyelids rimmed with long, arcing eyelashes, a sweet, little boy nose, those boyish, inviting lips. To a long, firm neck, broad, square shoulders (they may have been the most bony part of him), tightly muscled arms with just the palest of soft hair on his forearms. A handsome, heaving chest, dark, dusty-rose areolas, tight around two b-b's for nipples. Lower, his abdomen fell away, like a shallow valley, below the ridge of his rib cage. A perfect "in-y" belly button.

Back to his newly-sprouting patch of pubic hair, and the center of his boyhood, vibrant and alive with two enclosed orbs, pulled close to his body. And below, those two muscled legs, hairless, except, when I dropped my head to catch the light from behind him, the finest hints of down. The sleeping bag frustrated my full view. I wanted to drink in the full five feet-two inches of this boy. In fact, I wanted to explore every centimeter of his exquisite form, follow the contours with my eager fingers, savor the subtle softness of his skin with my lips, drink in the aroma of his sweet scent, and with my tongue explore the full course meal of this boy's body--I ached from wanting to taste him.

But I resisted. I would not violate the sanctity of this boy. I realized now I actually shook with... What? A combination of excitement (for certain), and not a little fear...for I'd never had any interest in boys. I was gay, but I wasn't a...a what? A pedophile? A pervert? So then, what was I so afraid of? Perhaps of the fact that I was drawn to this boy - drawn to everything about him in a way that challenged everything I'd understood about myself. I'd also come to understand that sex is a mysterious thing, shrouded in layers of physical, psychological, and even spiritual complexity. I could deny my response to this man-child, or I could be open to the possibilities.

Besides, I argued with myself, to this moment, I'd only been a supportive, caring friend to a boy who desperately needed someone like that in his life. I knew that, and his mother knew that, and at some level, I think, even Eric knew that. And so, despite the fear, I chose to remain open to wherever the journey of these circumstances was taking us. All this aside, the undeniable fact remained: this boy had a beauty that touched me deep within my psyche. I closed my eyes, drew in a long slow breath, and released it.

Now in his sleep, the boy's hands dropped downward along his hips. They settled, twitching, beside each leg, and pressed hard into the sleeping bag. His whole body was rigid, and his hips actually lifted some as his hands pressed downward. I watched, unsure, at first, of what I was witnessing. Then his body eased. Then, with another breath, it tensed. His body was wracked by waves of tension. His mouth opened and closed as if he were trying to speak. Each time his body tensed, his hips lifted upward, as if humping in slow motion some invisible partner. His moans became louder. And as I watched, it slowly dawned on me what I was seeing. I studied him in awe, feeling a profound sense of wonder at the mysteries of the male body. His contractions became more frequent and if anything more pronounced. His nipples jutted away from his chest. Then suddenly his moans changed to gulps of air. He seemed only to breathe in, never out. And then it happened. His penis seemed to spasm with an almost nervous sort of twitching. As I watched, a few drops of thin fluid spurted/trickled out, and then the first eruption of a thicker, pearly liquid burst out of his straining boyhood. "Ahh...ahhhh..." he whimpered, actually sounding frightened, or as if he were straining with all his might. It was over quickly. Two pulses of semen shot onto his belly. Some of it landed on the sleeping bag, most of it fell on his stomach, the remaining, oozed down his boyhood. I saw his eyes flicker now, and I quickly dropped my head and closed my eyes.

I heard his body move, and stretch.

"Huh!" I heard him say, then silence, except a rustling up where his head was. I heard his hand move down toward his genitals.

"Wha...?" Then an abrupt movement, as he must have picked his head up.

Silence. Then "huh?" and then a whispered "Shit!" followed by "Oh shit. Oh no...He's gonna' kill me." He was so upset he was talking to himself. Then I heard a catch in his throat and I could tell he was on the verge of tears. "Oh, God, no!" If this was his first wet dream, it should be a wonderful thing of mystery for a boy, not a tearful event. I tried to decide whether to pretend to remain asleep, and let him be miserable and guilty and try to hide a terrible (apparently in his mind, anyway) secret, or try to ease his concerns (and maybe still have him miserable).

I opened my eyes. His four inches had eased some, but still pretty hard. Then I looked up, and almost immediately, his eyes caught mine.

Instantly, he turned away.

"Morning, Eric," I said gently.

"Go away. Get out."

"Eric." I reached over and put my hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

He pulled away. "No it isn't. Go away."

"Eric. Look at me." Slowly he turned to face me. Tears welled up. His cheeks were bright red and hot. He looked so ashamed. "I'm not going to lie to you. I know what just happened." The tears spilled down his face. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm not even angry with you. No way." He looked at me. "Listen. You did nothing wrong. In fact, what just happened, you had very little to do with. Do you KNOW what just happened?"

"Something came out of...of me. I wet the bed!"

"No, you didn't." I smiled. "You know what semen is..."

He reddened. "'Course. From Health Class."

"Okay. Did they talk about nocturnal emissions?"

"What?" he said wiping his eyes.

"Nocturnal emissions...wet dreams?"

He shook his head. I rolled my eyes. "If they're going to teach sex education, then they should teach it," I said disgustedly.

"Kids talk about wet dreams," he said tentatively.

"What did they say?"

"They don't really talk to me much." I was saddened, but not surprised by this.

"I dunno. Just go, alright!" He darkened now. It was a look I'd seen in him a lot, though less and less with every passing hour. Now it had returned wwith a vengeance.

"Eric, I'm not going to go...not with you upset."

"It's...that stuff is on the sleeping bag."

I smiled. "It's not the first time," I said gently and with a grin, but he was having none of it.

"You know the basics, I'm sure. When a boy starts to mature - like you're doing - your body begins to make sperm. If you don't do something to interrupt the process, the sperm builds up, and periodically, it's ejaculated in your sleep."

"Ejaculated?"

"Shoots out, expels, that's what that means."

Now Eric looked down at his stomach. "That's sperm?" There was a note of awe in his voice.

"It is, and it's completely normal. Every healthy male ejaculates."

"Do you have nock...nock...wet dreams?"

I smiled. "Well...I have ejaculations, and yes, especially when I was your age, I had wet dreams. Eric, I'm sorry this happened just this way. It might have been better, maybe if you could have been in your own bed, by yourself. This is a pretty private thing for a boy, but I'm not angry with you. Not at all. It's not something you can control."

"But it's all over your sleeping bag."

"Eric. Don't worry. It'll dry. It's not a problem. Honest."

"But..."

"Eric. Look. I remember the first time it happened to me. And I didn't have a clue what was happening. And the worst part? I was visiting my grandmother. I thought I was gonna' die if she found the stain on her sheets. I was sure to make my bed that day! But there was something else...something that scared the shit out of me."

"What?"

"Usually you're dreaming when this happens. I guess I thought my dream had made this happen, and I'd been thinking something bad, because the dreams are...kind of different...kind of sexy."

"You mean like naked girls and doing stuff?"

"Well, naked girls...maybe for some guys. For others, it's sexy boys. And 'doin' stuff?' Depends what it is, I suppose. Painting a house...doing homework...mowing the lawn...Maybe not that kind of stuff."

Eric's face softened, and an embarrassed grin appeared.

"I remember waking up just like you did, and in that first instant, it felt good - I mean really good, then when I saw what I did, and I remembered my dream, I began to feel really guilty. I know now that there was nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing. What happened to me, and what just happened to you is completely natural. In fact, I think you should feel pretty excited about what just happened." I reached down and scooped some of his semen up in my fingers, and rubbed it between my finger and thumb. "It means you're becoming a man."

"Gross. It's like piss."

"Not really."

"Gooey."

"Yeah...for sure," I grinned. "It'll get more gooey - thicker - the more your balls make. Cumming is awesome for guys."

"Coming?"

"Ejaculating. Lots of guys call semen, 'cum'."

Eric self-consciously peered down at his genitals, and tentatively felt his testicles.

"Regular cum factories." I guided his hand to a pool in his belly-button to feel it himself.

He examined it closely. I thought about telling him to smell it, or taste it, even, but all in good time.

Now he seemed to remember his erection, and his hand dropped down to cover it. He flashed a look of guilt as he glanced over at me.

"I suppose I should tell you something else about wet dreams."

He looked questioningly.

"It only happens when you're erect. You know what that means?"

"Duh. I'm not completely stupid."

"Eric, there's nothing about you I think is stupid."

"I'm like gettin' them all the time. Boners I mean."

"Probably at all kinds of weird times: at school, grocery shopping with your mom, anywhere, and there's no controlling it."

"Every morning when I wake up," Eric volunteered.

"You got that right!"

"Your body sends signals at times when you need an erection, but when you're just maturing, sometimes those signals get sent at all kinds of odd times."

"When do you need an erection?"

"Well...I guess I mean when your body is preparing for an orgasm."

Now we were both embarrassed.

"Is a wet dream that?" Eric asked.

"Well, it certainly leads to an orgasm, if you don't wake up. But you usually have orgasms as the climax to sexual activity." I studied Eric and he seemed unsure of all of this. "They've gotta have talked about this in that sex ed class."

He grinned.

"Anyway...don't worry about any of this. And if it happens again...just kind of lay there and enjoy it. I mean it. Orgasms are awesome. An orgasm sort of takes you to this incredible place - both physically and mentally. So...enjoy it. Promise?"

Eric stared at me like it was the oddest thing he'd ever heard. "Promise."

"Now...if you want to clean up, use something like tissues, so you can get rid of them. I used my T-shirt once, but my mom found it, and then I had to sit through the most embarrassing conversation I can ever remember. And it can stain, so, here..." I reached for some tissues from my sports bag, and handed them to him.

I watched as he cleaned himself up. I could smell that mild odor of boy cum. It was an incredibly sexy scene. As I watched, my dick sprung to life, and the bulge in my sleeping bag did not go unnoticed.

Eric showed a sly look. His eyes actually sparkled. "So, I guess old guys get stiffies in the morning, too."

"Old guys, huh!" I reached over and tickled him in the ribs. He squealed with boyish giggles.

"Stop...stop...I'm going to pee."

"Pee! Not in my sleeping bag...I dragged him up and out of the tent, still tickling him. "Stop...stop" he screamed between peals of laughter. "Really...I'm going to pee..."

At the edge of our campsite, buried in the thick brush, a pair of black eyes sparkled at the sight of the two of us, naked and locked in a kind of combat. Eric's laughter echoed across the stream. The eyes stayed riveted to the sensual scene.

"Prove it..." I kept up my assault, and watched as a shiver passed through his entire body, followed by the first jerky sprays of golden urine, which then settled into a steady flow. As his bladder emptied, I ceased my torment.

As he dribbled out the last drops, he shook himself.

"There, satisfied," he started to say as he turned toward me, but stopped in mid-sentence. I was still sporting my seven inch hard-on. His eyes widened, and he seemed mesmerized by what he was seeing. But then he glanced up at me, with a look of uncertainty, and then spun around and stared out across the river. He slapped his hands down over his boyhood, and stood rigid.

"Eric...what's wrong, buddy? Hey, it's okay to look. And if I'm making you uncomfortable, I'm sorry."

"It's not you, okay?" he said almost bitterly, and suddenly, I understood - I thought - the problem. His body had begun to respond to what he perceived as something erotic, and the guilt was too much.

"Eric," I said as softly as I could. "It's okay, really." I thought about asking him why he thought I was still hard, but perhaps that would only have confused things - made it worse. "I don't understand a lot, but I do know your body has a mind of its own sometimes. It's just natural. Period. Maybe I should have been a little more careful, or something. I just...I guess I just thought after all we've been through, I thought we should just let it all hang out."

Suddenly he seemed to stiffen even more, and then little shakes seemed to take over his body, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest. "Oh my God," I heard him mutter under his breath. His tone had completely changed.

"What?" I asked, genuinely unsure of what was happening.

"Except it's not really hanging." The notion had struck him funny, but his boldness at voicing it caused a deep red to flood over his face.

I laughed right out loud. "True," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Eric, it really is okay. I'm pretty comfortable with who I am; I guess it comes with age, but, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked timidly.

"Of course."

"Are all grownups as big as you?"

I smiled - and probably blushed a bit as well. "Some are bigger, I suppose, some smaller. Some are thicker, some thinner. Some are straight, some curved or bent. Every guy is a little different."

To tell the truth, it felt a little odd to be standing there having this 13-year-old examine me in this way, but it certainly didn't deflate me any. Again I marveled at how he'd changed in the past two days, growing more confident, more open.

"How come it doesn't look like mine?"

"'Cuz I'm an old guy?"

"No, really."

As he examined, and talked, he began to grow hard again. He wasn't totally at ease, but it didn't seem to bother him now the way it had only moments ago. Somehow, it seemed, having me be okay with my own arousal made it at least a little "okay" for him.

"Well, some parents have their boy babies circumcised."

"What's that?"

"Cut. Look, here...See that line?" I lightly traced my finger around the brownish skin on his otherwise perfect dick. It throbbed, pulsing once when I touched it, and he pulled back slightly, and I worried yet again that I'd trespassed. He was understandably a little shy.

He nodded.

"Well, when you were a baby, just a few days old, the doctor cut off a flap of skin that covers the tip of your penis."

"No way."

"Absolutely. I'm sure you've seen other boys and noticed the loose skin that covers the head of their penis."

"Why do they do it?"

"Cut it off?"

"Because they think it's easier to keep clean, basically."

He shifted his glance to my hard-on. "But they didn't do that to you?"

"Right."

He bent lower to examine the tip of my glans which was poking through.

"You can pull that skin back and it will sort of look like yours."

He looked up at me quizzically. I nodded, waiting to see what he would do.

Tentatively, he reached out. His body tensed, and he shook with the anticipation of handling another male for the first time. His eyes widened, and those crystal clear blue eyes sparkled like diamonds.

His first tremulous touch was halting, and he almost jumped when his touch caused my dick to bounce up violently. He grinned, amused at his timidity, then he more confidently grasped me and gently pulled back my foreskin.

"Wow..." he stammered, sucking in his breath. "Awesome."

"Yeah," I said, "it is, isn't it? But so are you."

"Jas..." he said, looking up at me. "D'you think I'll be as big as you?"

"No way to know. You may, you may not, you may be smaller, you may be bigger. Every guy talks about size, but the truth is, it's not how much you've got, it's how use it."

He looked confused.

"Later, champ. That's enough Sex 101, for now. I don't know about you, but I'm gettin' hungry." He smiled, amazed, I'm sure, at how different things suddenly seemed. He felt, I'm sure, more grown up; somehow he was now part of a club only adult males were admitted to. "Just one last thing. For a guy who's not circumcised, his head - the end of his penis - is ultra-sensitive. So, it's best, unless you're having sex, to keep the foreskin covering it." I moved it back over my glans, and together, naked, we turned to head off to rustle up some breakfast.

It was then I detected some movement in the brush, and I stopped. Eric, sensing my action, stopped as well.

"What's..." he started to say, but by then he heard the rustling and turned to see a young man about his age step into the clearing.

Eric seemed paralyzed and immediately dropped his hands to cover his boyhood. The young man was dressed only in a breech-clout. He was muscular and perfectly-proportioned. I smiled to see his front flap tented. He must have been enjoying our play. The boy's bronzed skin was as smooth as Eric's. The two boys were about the same height, though the darker-skinned boy was a bit heavier. His pecs were well-developed and his stomach was a range of molded hillocks of muscle. His straight, shiny black hair reflected blue highlights from the sky above him. He flashed a look at me, then let his eyes gaze upon my young friend. His eyes inched up and down Eric's taut body. He smiled now, and his stunning white teeth glistened.

"Running Bear" I said.

"Jason," the fourteen-year-old Indian replied.

Eric snapped his head in my direction, as Running Bear stepped toward us.

"Eric," I said, "this is Running Bear. He's Sammy Soaring Eagle's nephew."

Running Bear held out his hand, and haltingly Eric lifted his hand away from his genitals and took the Indian boy's hand in his.

Running Bear again flashed that great smile.

"It's cool," he said. "Don't be shy, now. It's a little too late. I watched you guys playing from the moment you came out of the tent."

Eric looked like he'd been shot. "Hey, it's cool," Running Bear repeated. "I'm just a little jealous I couldn't have been part of it!" His endearing grin seemed to put Eric at ease at bit, and now I noticed Eric checking the new boy out.

"Want some breakfast," I asked.

"Food? Always ready for food," Running Bear answered.

"Tell you what. If you guys wanna have a swim, I'll get stuff cooking."

I could see Eric wasn't exactly sure he wanted to, but Running Bear's enthusiasm was infectious. Eric shrugged his agreement, and with that, the Indian boy dropped his loincloth, and after a pause, ran for the water. The pause was for Eric's benefit, allowing the paler-skinned boy to catch a glimpse of the darker-skinned boy's maleness. It had remained erect, and was maybe just a bit larger than Eric's. Like me, Running Bear was not circumcised.

In no time, it seemed the two boys had reached a sort of comfort with each other.

"Are you really an Indian?" I heard Eric ask.

"Are you really a white kid?" was the response?

I watched for Eric's response. After a just a flash of looking hurt, he began to grin. "I guess it was kind'a a stupid question, but...I've never met a...Native American before."

"Indian. Lakota, actually."

"Human being," Eric said.

Running Bear stopped now, then smiled a broad smile, and nodded. "Mmmm," he responded, "Human being."

"What are you doin' out here?" Eric asked.

"Nuthin' really...just sort of trackin', I guess. Sometimes I just like to get out in the woods, for a while? Know what I mean?"

Eric looked momentarily uncertain, then smiled. "Yeah...well...really...this is my first time campin' an' all...but I really like it. It's awesome."

The three of us spent the rest of the morning naked. Now I had two young teens to behold. Each seemed a perfect compliment to the other. As we began to load up the canoe, I asked Running Bear if he'd like to come along with us.

"Naw," he said. Eric flashed a look of disappointment.

"But," the Indian boy continued, "maybe I'll run into you again."

"Hope so," Eric volunteered, which made Running Bear grin.

The Indian boy eyed Eric up and down with as lecherous a stare as he could manage, making Eric squirm and loving every minute of it. "Well, then, you can count on it, then."

As we shoved off, Running Bear stood on the shore and offered a sort of classic Indian pose, feet firmly planted, standing tall, with his arm upraised. I could see Eric was completely enthralled.

We didn't talk for maybe thirty minutes or so, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

"That was my first time," Eric said softly. I wasn't even sure it was meant for my ears.

"First time?" I asked.

"My...um...wet dream."

I nodded.

"Yeah, my first one," he said with a smile of pride.

"Awesome," I said, smiling.

"Jason?"

"Yeah?"

He turned around now and looked at me. "You said it might have been better if I'd been in my own room?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well...um...I'm pretty glad I was here...um...you know...with you. I...ah...I think it was cool."

I wanted to reach out and hug him, but the packed equipment wouldn't let me.

"Yeah, Eric. Me, too."

"Running Bear was cool, too," he said, abruptly switching gears. Or maybe, Eric's thoughts about sex had linked automatically to the sexy Indian boy.

"Yes, he is," I said with a grin.

"Um, d'you think we'll see Running Bear again?"

I looked off to the edges of the forest along the river bank. A few birds flew off from one spot, and I thought I detected some movement in the brush. I smiled. "I wouldn't be surprised, Eric. It seemed to me, he thought you were pretty cool, too." Eric flushed red, grinned, and then turned to resume paddling.