Jack Edwards

Gator 1

“You owe me, Jamie,” he said.

“You’re my older brother, Patrick,” I replied. “You’re supposed to look after me.”

“And you’re twenty-one years old. Even the government thinks you’re old enough to look after yourself. A guy who looks the way you look should have no trouble with girls, and yet Jenna’s the third girl I’ve lined you up with this year because you can’t hang on to a girl longer than a month.”

“Four months with Jenna,” I pointed out.

Patrick poked my chest. “Lining girls up for you falls under the category of favors; big favors. So you do owe me, and you really owe me for Jenna. She’s way too nice a girl for you. I had to spend weeks talking you up to her.”

“Bullshit. She says it was love at first sight,” I said. Then I poked him in the chest. “And I hang on to girls just fine; it’s them hanging on to me that’s the problem. I am twenty-one-years old, Patrick, and not the fuck ready to be tied down to one girl.” I said that, and he cocked an eyebrow at me. “OK, OK. I said. Jenna’s different. I admit. I owe you for her. But not enough to go camping with you and a bunch of boy scouts.”

“You’ll enjoy it. You always liked camping.”

“Not with a twelve-year-old boy attached to my wrist. What makes you think he’ll behave any better for me than he does for you?”

“I only need you to ride herd on him – one boy – so that the other scoutmaster and I can ride herd on two dozen other boys. He’s only been to two meetings and I’m already this close to kicking him out. I either do kick him out or I let him come with the rest of the troop on the campout.” Patrick shrugged. “Who knows, maybe a campout will snap the boy out of it.” My brother sighed then. “Look, Jamie, he’s a lot like you were at that age… rebellious, a loner, and a smart ass.”

“You loved me that way.”

“Yeah, right. If I hadn’t been so busy keeping other guys from kicking your butt, I would have gladly kicked it myself… every day.”

“You did.”

Patrick gave me an exasperated look, and then laid his hand on my shoulder. “Look, Jamie, I like the kid. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because he really does remind me of you. Only, I think he’s been through a lot more shit than either of us ever went through. Do the kid a favor; come with us on the campout.” He handed me a slip of paper. “The kid lives with his mom. This is his address at the top, and the other two addresses are two more boys to pick up. Be here at four Friday afternoon. Oh… and his name’s Jamie.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” he said with a grin.

The trailer park was nice as those things go. Many of the mobile homes were doublewide. Most of them looked new and well-kept. Jamie was waiting on the wooden steps of one of the less, well-kept ones.

He was a skinny kid, about five feet tall, with straight brown hair that hung all the way down to between his shoulder blades. It was wispy hair, with tinges of gold that looked natural, and though it was long, his hair was clean. So were his clothes, though they were obviously well-worn – a sleeveless T, baggy shorts, trainers without socks. As he stood up, I saw that his chest was flat, but he had pleasantly wide shoulders for his size. He had a wide mouth – an unsmiling mouth – but nice features. I let my eyes linger for just a moment, when I got close, because Jaime had undeniably beautiful wide set, gray eyes. I wasn’t in the habit of staring at boys, but his were really different.

He stared. At eighteen, I stood nearly six feet tall and had mop of jet-black hair that rimmed under my ball cap like thick, black fur. Painfully thin most of my youth, I had finally filled out, thanks to hours at the gym. And, I had a nice pair of eyes myself, big blue ones; my best feature. I smiled at his staring. Kids often stare at older boys they admire.

Jamie realized I’d caught him at it, and he frowned, picking up his bag. He stood there a moment, looking at me critically. “Your name is Jamie, too?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said.

“How embarrassing!” he grumbled, stepping past me with his bag.

I had to grin. “You have no idea,” I murmured, following him.

I opened the trunk and stood back for him to toss in his bag. He did and looked up at me, this time, looking angry. “Your brother lied.”

“He has before,” I said, slamming the trunk. I walked around to the driver’s side and Jamie headed for shotgun. “How did he lie this time?” I asked.

Jaime paused at the passenger door. “He said you were a dork when you were my age.”

I studied him over the roof of the car a moment and then shook my head. “He lied to me, not you,” I told him. “He told me that you are a lot like I was at your age. That was bullshit. You are so much not the dork I was.” Then I grinned. “At least you don’t look like it.” I pulled open the car door and got in. Jamie did the same from the other side.

He glanced at me skeptically, and then turned away to stare out the window. “You’re gonna be my babysitter,” he said. “Your brother didn’t lie about that; I know he didn’t.”

I shrugged. “Babysitter or partners in crime. Could be fun as long as we don’t make assholes of ourselves.”

Jamie harrumphed and looked out his side window. “I’m a professional at making an asshole out of myself.”

I understood why Patrick liked the kid, I mean, besides him being just a really cute kid. Jamie might want to be an asshole, but it didn’t work for him. Little remarks like that last one revealed boyish vulnerability.

“So, do you like camping much?’ I asked.

He glared at me, and in that moment, he didn’t look so vulnerable at all. He had fire in his eyes, and it dawned on me that there might be a little more to this kid than I suspected. “Ask if I even wanted to go camping,” he demanded.

“Never been, huh?”

“What? Like, if I’d been camping, I’d love it or something?” he challenged.

“You might. I did at your age.”

“Shit! Then you absolutely weren't nothing like me,” he said.

“I didn’t like camping the first time or two,” I told him.

He stared out the window a moment or two. Then he glanced at me. “What changed it?”

I grinned. “Dude, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“That’s lame.”

“No, it’s true. If I told you the shit we pulled, and my brother found out that I told you, he’d kill me… after cutting my balls off and stuffing them down my throat. So… yeah, I’d really need to kill you if I told you.”

He eyed me suspiciously a moment longer. “So what shit did you pull?” he asked.

I shook my head. “It was reign of terror, mainly with our scoutmaster as the victim.” I shook my head. “My brother is your scoutmaster.”

We sat silently a moment.

“So what did you do?” Jaime asked, giving me his first smile.

“Do you have a pen and paper?” I asked, with a grin of my own.

We rode with the windows down. It was late October in Houston, and the temperature was a balmy eighty degrees. We hadn't had our first real cold front of the year, and I was looking forward to getting in a little swimming. The campsite was on private land, with its own lake. I'd been there years before when I was still in the scouts, and I really liked the place. I even fantasized about having enough money to buy a place like it some day.

These days, though, my fantasies were about buying the landscaping business I worked for. Judd, my boss had offered to sell it to me. He had a trailer and some equipment, but what I'd really being paying for was his customers. Judd had many. But he was also tired of the business and had gotten more and more into buying and selling real estate.

"Some of the other guys want to buy the business from me, Jamie," he told me as we stood in the shade of a tree, one day earlier that summer, "but they'd screw it up. You got a good head on your shoulders and people like you." He leaned toward me and gazed sternly into my eyes. "But you gotta clean up your act. Don't think I don't know about Jennifer Tomas, and I’ve heard there’ve been others."

I grinned sheepishly. I’d been banging Jennifer when a couple of guys did her lawn on Thursdays. Her husband was some kind of executive and they had a big house. It was easy to work in a few minutes on the side. And yeah, Jennifer hadn’t been the only one. "Only customer service, Judd," I protested.

"Yeah, well when you're the boss, you can get your ass sued, or worse, giving that kind of customer service. Some of the girls where we work are underage." He frowned at me. "I'm serious, Jaime. Don't even think about me selling my business to you until you learn to keep your pants zipped." He glanced down at my chest and belly. "And start working with your shirt on."

Jamie and I pulled up in front of the house of the next scout. A small kid, Simon, came out right away, loaded down with a bag and with bedding. We tossed them into the trunk.

I glanced at Jamie as I got back into the car and Simon climbed into the back seat. "Dude," I told Jamie, "we gotta swing back by your place. You forgot your bedroll."

Jamie turned to me looking stressed and then pissed. "I don't have a bedroll. Nobody said nothin’ to me about a bedroll."

"Yes they did," Simon countered from the back. "Last meeting, they said, 'bring a towel, a pillow, a bedroll, soap..."

"They did not!" Jaime said, interrupting. "Take me back home," he told me. "I don't have a bedroll. I can’t go on your crappy campout."

"Whoa, dude," I told him. "Chill out! You can share with somebody. Simon will share, won't you Simon?"" I glanced up in the rearview mirror to see Simon staring wide-eyed at the back of Jamie's head with something approaching horror. He saw me looking and glanced at me, all panicked looking.

"Or one of the other guys," I suggested with a frown at Simon. "Guys have shared bedrolls before. It's no big deal unless one of them wets the bed." I chuckled, trying to lighten the situation. Neither of the other boys laughed, though. I started to make a joke about them being 'wet blankets' but thought better of it. "Look, dude," I told Jamie. "I brought an extra blanket in case it got cold. You can borrow it to make a bed and use some clothes as a pillow."

Jamie stared out the window, ignoring me, obviously unhappy.

We rode in a bus out to the campsite. The lake was a small one off the West Fork of the San Jacinto River in the piney woods north of Houston. It looked pretty much like it did a few years before when I had gone camping as a scout.

We set up our tents. I had my own because Patrick’s six and eight-eight-year old sons were to tent with him – when you’re scoutmaster, you can bring your own sons, even if they are a little young.

My tent was one of those shock cord, zip-up, nylon things; an extra one of Patrick’s. I had it up in no time with my gear stored inside, well away from the other tents so my sleep wouldn’t be disturbed by a bunch of ten and twelve-year-olds farting around in the middle of the night. I sat back at a picnic table, sipping a soda, and watched while the two dozen scouts and two scoutmasters set up the rest of the tents.

I noticed Jamie’s bag, still sitting on the trunk of my car, about the same time he took a seat at the other end of the picnic table from me. “Why aren’t you helping?” I asked.

“Why aren’t you?” he countered, not looking at me.

“My tent is up, dude, and my gear is stored. The rest of the stuff they’re doing, clearing brush and all, well I’m a professional landscaper. I do that all day. Not fun on a campout.”

“Professional landscaper?” he asked, turning to me with a sour look. “You mow lawns?”

“Yeah, sport, I mow lawns, and I get paid damn well for it.”

“Don’t call me ‘sport’,” he said, looking away, out over the lake. He was silent a moment, then… “Is it true there’s alligators in that lake?”

I suppressed a smile. Nothing had changed; they still told first-time campers that there were alligators in the lake. Actually, I suppose there could be; it was East Texas after all, but scouts had been swimming there for years and I never talked to anyone who saw an alligator… at least anyone I believed. “Sure,” I told him. “Lots of gators. Just don’t splash around a lot and they’ll leave you alone.”

He glanced at me skeptically.

“Which tent did you wind up in?” I asked.

He looked away, unhappily.

“You aren’t in a tent yet?” I asked. “Ask one of these guys. They’ll share.”

Jamie glared at me. “I asked all of those… guys,” he said. “None of them want me.”

There are times with kids that age, when you really wanna kick some butts. It wasn’t like Jamie was a leper or something. No lice. No bad smell. He might be a smart ass, but hell, what kid isn’t.

“I’ve got room,” I told him. “I’ve got a tent I’m not sharing with anyone.”

He looked at me with a frown. “Scoutmasters aren’t supposed to share with scouts.”

I shrugged. “I’m not a scoutmaster, and I’m not a perv. I do girls, lots of them. You can ask my brother for references. I don’t even snore. You’re welcome to tent with me if you want. It’s that one.” I pointed it out, but he made no move to take me up on my offer.

A few minutes later, Patrick passed through the group. “Get your swimsuits on. We’ll get in a swim while it’s still early.”

Well that was a change. We used to skinny dip.

Boys around the camp disappeared into their tents to change. A couple changed beside their doorways. “You bring a swimsuit?” I asked Jamie. He nodded. “Go for it,” I told him, nodding toward the tent. “You can at least use my tent for changing to your suit.”

“I’m not sure I wanna swim.”

“Sure you do,” I told him. “You can stick with me. I’ll show you how to avoid the gators.”

He squinted at me suspiciously through one eye.

“Get changed,” I told him. “I’ll change after you do.”

Reluctantly, as if I was making him, Jamie got up from the table, walked deliberately to my car and got his bag, then plodded to the tent and went inside.

Patrick came to the table and sat across from me. “You letting him stay in your tent?” he asked with a frown.

I shrugged. “He said none of the other kids will have him.”

Patrick frowned and glanced back toward the tents. “Somehow, they’ve got it in their heads that Jamie’s gay. That’s why they don’t want him in their tents.”

I snorted. “They’re all a little gay at that age.” I cocked an eyebrow at him, and he nodded. I glanced over at my tent. “The kid doesn’t act gay.”

Patrick nodded. “I’m sure he isn’t. But it’s still not a good idea to let him stay in your tent. He could always claim later that something happened, just to get your ass fried.”

“Bullshit!” I said, laughing. I glanced at Patrick. “You wanted me to look after him; I will. If the other kids are gonna be assholes, Jamie can just hang with me.”

Patrick smiled and patted my forearm. “You always did have a soft spot for small animals and kids that are loners.”

“Yeah, well maybe that’s because I was a loner myself,” I said.

Jamie came out from the tent in his swim suit, but stood uncertainly at the doorway. So I stood up. “My turn to change, I guess,” I said. “How come you guys don’t just skinny dip like we used to?”

“Times are changing,” Patrick said with a shrug. “Some moms complained.”

“It would be moms,” I mumbled, heading for the tent. Jamie stepped aside, but I wasn’t in the mood to try changing, all bent over inside the tent. I decided I’d change outside. I’d never been a real modest guy, even when I was a skinny kid. At least in one department, I had nothing to be ashamed of. My dick wasn’t spectacular; just on the long side of normal, and long enough to not worry about comparisons too much.

Jamie watched as I kicked of my shoes, stripped off my shirt, and dropped my jeans. I noticed his eyes travel over my torso. I never tried to bulk up; never took supplements and all that crap. But I did workout, and I had like, no body fat. I tried not to obsess over my body; not since one day at the gym when I was tensing muscles in front of a mirror and I overheard one girl tell another, “I bet he wishes he could fuck himself.” Neither girl was pretty. “I prefer me over either of you,” I retorted. Wasn’t much of a triumph; like I said, I quit obsessing.

I was confident about my body, but other than my eyes, my face wasn’t like, gorgeous or anything. I was just pretty normal. Thanks to the sun, the light hair I had on my forearms and calves was almost white. What little chest hair I had, Jenna waxed off, along with my small pubic patch, because Jenna liked giving head, and she didn’t like pubes. I had forgotten about the missing pubes. Jaime’s eyes riveted there a moment, before assessing the rest of my body.

He looked at me the way a boy admires an athlete. That felt good. Jaime tried to be cool about it, though, just sneaking peaks. I bent over to grab my suit from inside, and almost laughed out loud as I thought about the butt shot I was giving him. My butt was Jenna’s favorite part… well, maybe second favorite part.

I pulled on my suit and then laid an arm over the back of Jamie’s thin shoulders. “C’mon, sport,” I said. “Let’s go chase some gators.”

He glanced up at me, with a particularly annoyed look. “Don’t call me…”

“… sport,” I said, finishing for him. I laughed.

Patrick had gathered the scouts up into a group to give them the classic warning speech… swim with a buddy, no this, no that, stay where the scoutmasters could watch, etc. There were a few, swim team speedos, but most of the boys had baggy swimsuits like mine. Jamies was a baggy that was a size or two too small, and not so baggy on him anymore.

“You can swim, right?” I asked him, my forearm still resting across the backs of his shoulders. That got me another annoyed look. “Good,” I told him. “You and I can buddy up then. I can’t swim.”

I turned my attention back to Patrick and let Jamie worry about whether I actually couldn’t swim. The campsite was on top of a small knoll. The path down from it to the small, swimming beach was indirect. First it came straight down to a small cove with a drop-off too steep for swimming, and then followed the cove and around a small promontory to the a small, sandy beach on the other side. As we circled the cove, single file, two little farts in front of Jamie started teasing him. “Be careful of the gators Jamie. They’re sit at the bottom of that cove there.”

“Shit heads!” Jamie countered. “There ain’t any alligators in this lake.”

I’m not a cruel person by nature; just stupid sometimes. I don’t know what I was thinking; maybe that Jamie needed a little more respect from the other guys and at the same time, it’d be fun to tease him, but really, I wasn’t thinking at all, or I wouldn’t have done it. I grabbed Jaime up over my shoulder and started down into the water of the cove. “Let’s show ‘em Jaime,” I said, loudly. “I’ll toss you out to the middle of the cove, just to prove to those assholes that there aren’t any alligators?”

The guys all hooted and yelled, but they were silenced by Jaime’s blood-curdling scream. In an instant, he had me in a neck lock with his arms and his legs were clamped around my waist – I got a small waist – like a spider monkey clinging to the belly of its mom. His face was buried in my neck and he clung to me with surprising strength.

Instinctively, I think, I realized that I’d somehow triggered some fear in Jaime. The boys on the bank really jeered wildly, and I turned Jamie’s back to them. I frowned at Patrick and he got the message, ushering the scouts on past the cove and around the bend to the beach on the other side while I held Jamie and he clung to me, in waist-deep water.

Patrick’s words from earlier in the week came back to me, “I think he’s been through a lot more shit than either of us ever went through.” I figured nobody’d ever flung Jaime to alligators, but there had to be something. It wasn’t until months later that I found out one of his uncles used to hold Jaime up over his pen of pit bulls after getting the dogs worked up. The man was perverse and enjoyed inflicting terror on kids. When I finally met him once, only the memory of what I had done to Jaime that day at the lake kept me from beating his uncle to a pulp. That, and the man was a damn big son-of-a-bitch.

Jaime was trembling, and I felt like a piece of shit. I cupped his butt with one hand, and stroked his back with the other as the last of the boys, with Richard behind them, disappeared around the bend. “I am so sorry, dude,” I whispered over and over. “I am so, so sorry.”

For a few moments, I simply held him there, in the water, his body glued to the front of mine, his forehead buried in my neck. I stroked his back and held him to me. His body remained rigid, trembling, until I realized he might actually be afraid of gators in the cove and I walked up from the water and sat us onto the edge of a large rock.

Jaime quit trembling and relazed, but still clung to me. I kept stroking his boney back and his long, smooth hair, and it had a strange affect on me, not unlike the feeling when a kitten or a puppy crawls into your lap. And yet, Jaime wasn’t a kitten or puppy and his smooth skin and smaller body began to stir me, embarrassingly.

At the same time, it occured to me that Jaime seemed to like being held. Just the way he clung to me so tightly, even though we were out of the water now, I wondered if he’d ever been held much at home, or recently. Despite having to resist a surprising stirring in my groin, I was going to hold Jaime as long as he wanted.

As I sat on the rock, he was still pressed to my belly from his crotch up. His legs extended back on either side of my waist. I cradled the back of his head, stroking his hair with one hand, and stroking his back with my other. Jaime clinging to me like that felt good – not in an entirely sexual way, despite my being stirred, but in another way entirely. Anyone who has held a child, comforting him knows what I felt.

I thought about apologizing again, telling him how stupid I felt, how sorry I was. I hugged him more tightly. He started to pull his butt back, but I held on to him. That’s when his boner pressed against my belly. I smiled to myself – it had happened to him, too, springing a boner like I had. There was still no need to push him away, not if he needed holding like this. His boner was natural enough and he couldn’t feel my boner anyway; he was above it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why, dude?”

He didn’t say anthing.

“Jamie, dude,” I said, quietly. “Don’ worry about the boner if that’s why you were apologizing. Shit, guys your age get boners all the time. When I was your age, it seemed like I always had a boner, and the more I tried not to, the harder my boner would get. Peckers don’t know or care what you’re rubbing against, they just get hard. So why let a boner spoil a good hug, right? I’ll hold you like this all day if you want. I sorta like it, too.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to pull away, but he didn’t try to hug harder, either.

“Hell,” I said, afraid he was really embarrassed, “I’ve got a boner right now myself, just from us hugging like this, and I’m straight. It just happens.”

Jaime didn’t move for a moment, but then, keeping his forehead in the nape of my neck and one arm around my neck, he lifted his butt and reached down between our bodies to grope the front of my wet swimsuit. He squeezed my boner.

“Oh, geez, dude,” I murmured. “You found it.”

Jaime let go of my neck and let his butt settle between my legs. My neck felt wet where his face had been, and I realized he’d been crying. His crotch came to rest on my crotch, boner on boner, actually. His head was still down, not looking at me.

“Dude,” I said with a chuckle, “our boners aren’t gonna go away very fast with us sitting this way.”

He looked up at me then. His eyes were red and slightly damp. “Did you really have a boner all the time when you were my age?”

I laughed, really loud. “Oh, hell yes! Guys get them all the time when they’re hittin’ puberty. Sometimes it seems like a non-stop boner all day long. It just won’t go away. And it can be damned embarrassing if you can’t hide it.

“I sprung a boner in the showers at school,” he said, his eyes watching mine for a reaction. “Now the guys think I’m gay.”

I laughed out loud again, and leaned back, resting my weight on my hands. behind me on the rock. That didn’t free my crotch from Jaime’s. “Dude,” I said, “guys spring boners in the showers all the time. I got a couple of boners in the shower in phys ed, myself. I just managed to get a towel over mine pretty quickly. I saw at least two other guys get boners, too. It happens. Hell, I bet all your buddies are just scared shitless that it’s gonna happen to them.”

He looked at me skeptically.

“Doesn’t mean you’re gay either,” I continued. “Shit, I bet half of your buddies are jackin’ off with each other whenever they get a chance. Guys your age do that, too. Hell, even I did. I had buddies I jacked off with and did stuff with.”

His eyes had dropped down to where our crotches rested against each other, but he looked up at me when I said that. “What kind of stuff?” he asked.

I laughed again. ‘What? You wanna get out a paper and pen again. Just stuff, dude. Just stuff. Now if you don’t get up off me, our boners aren’t ever gonna go away.”

His eyes dropped down to our crotches again. “Can I see?” he asked. “Yours looks big.”

I sighed, and looked around. Everybody else was around the bend at the beach. I couldn’t blame the kid for being curious. Besides, if he was worried about boners, me freaking over showing him mine now wouldn’t help. “Sure,” I said, sitting upright again. I pulled down the front of my suit. “It isn’t all that big. Just a little bigger than average.”

“Looks big to me,” he said. “Looks real big.” Freed, it pointed up my belly. Jaime pressed the underside with his fingers.

I swallowed, thinking I should stop this at some point, but not freaking seemed important. Besides, letting him look a little was probably good since I doubted that he had another dude he could compare with. “Nope,” I said. “Just a little over average. Boners just get bigger as the rest of you gets bigger, you know, growing up. Show me yours,” I told him, thinking I could assure him he was normal for his age. “Let’s see what you got.”

Jaime pulled down the front of his swim suit. Freed, his cock pointed straight up his belly, much like mine.

“Whoa, dude!” I exclaimed, sincerely. “That is a thing of beauty! You got a really nice one. I sure as hell wasn’t hung like that at your age.” Jaime was hairless, not a pube in sight, and that might have made him look bigger, but he did have a nice cock. Thick, curving up all hard as steel. It probably was two-thirds the size of mine already, and he was only twelve. “No wonder you have trouble hiding a boner,” I said.

He grinned then, holding the front of his swimsuit down under his boner the way I was. I laughed and picked him up under the arms to set him down on the ground. “You’re going to make some girls very, very happy, dude,” I told him as our swimsuits popped back up and we tucked things in.

His smile faded slightly.

“You worried about being gay?” I asked. “Don’t. Remember, guys your age spring boners over all sorts of stuff. Hell, guys my age do too, right. I mean, I just sprang one with a guy hugging me.” I patted his butt, encouraging him back onto the path to the swimming beach.

As I started to follow, though, he hesitated. “You really don’t need to worry about alligators,” I told him.

He shook his head. “I screamed,” he said. “In front of the other guys.”

There was only one thing for it. I knelt behind him, pushed my head through his legs, and got up with him on my shoulders. “It was a damned good scream, too,” I told him. “I might try to get another good one out of you before the weekend’s done.”

Though a couple of boys started to tease him, they were all too busy playing to be distracted much as I simply walked into the water with Jamie on my shoulders and then dove both of us in. When I started throwing him over the water for fun, other guys wanted in on it, too, and I quickly wore myself out, getting under them, pushing them up by the butts, and throwing them over the water.

Jamie stayed with me, though, even when I quit tossing kids. We had buddied up for the swim, and he hung with me as we prepared to walk back to the campsite. “Jamie!” Patrick called from behind us as we were getting on to the path back. Jamie and I both turned.

Patrick laughed. “We’re gonna have to give you guys nicknames to tell you apart,” he said.

“Crocodile Hunter!” one of the kids called out, laughing.

“You mean, Alligator Hunter,” another corrected.

“Gator,” called another.

“Yeah, Gator,” another agreed.

“Hey, Gator!” several guys called out.

A couple were looking at me, a couple were looking at Jaime, so I didn’t leave it up to anyone else to decide which of us was gator. I picked Jaime up on my shoulders again. “Hey, Gator!” I called out. “Jaime the Gator Hunter.”

I thought it was cool. It certainly wasn’t a gay nickname.

Guys had started to warm up to Jaime when we were swimming. Kids liked me, and I made sure they knew I liked Jaime. After all, that’s why Patrick ask me along; to look after the kid.

I put him back onto the ground at our tent, and then I leaned close to him grinning. “I’m glad they picked Gator for a nickname,” I told him. “I was afraid they’d go for Big Jaime and Little Jamie and I was afraid, after seeing us naked, that I was gonna be little Jaime.”

Gator laughed. And he stayed outside the tent to change with me. His cock got a little thick as it hung, but he didn’t freak, and once we had our pants on, I pulled him into a neck lock and gave him a noogie.

I got the laugh from him that I wanted, and I let him go. For a moment, remained right in front of me, looking up at me. His smile faded and his eyes dilated, the way a boy’s eyes dilate when he’s a little turned on by someone. I flashed back to the feel of his body clinging to mine, how soft his hair was, how smooth his skin, his skin on my skin, and how his slender legs felt wrapped around my waist. I remembered the feel of his boner resting on mine through our swimsuits, and for that instant, my smile faded, too, and my eyes went soft.

My cock stirred.

It struck me as crazy. I was not going to crush on a kid, especially a boy kid. I’d done all the stiffy rubbing, boner sucking, double-wanking, and cornholing any kid Gator’s age might do, when I was that age. It was a long time ago, and needed to stay a long time ago.

I shook myself, as if from a dream, and looked around. “I better go find Patrick,” I said, heading in that direction. “I ought to see what help he needs with supper.”

Gator hurried up alongside. “I’ll go with you,” he said. The back of his hand brushed the back of mine, and I had a crazy impulse to take his hand. I didn’t, of course. This is crazy, I thought, and instead, laid my arm over the backs of his shoulders as we walked. He slipped his arm behind my waist.

At Gator’s age, two boys can become instant best friends. I’d seen it happen. I’d had it happen. What surprised me was that it could happen between a twelve-year-old and a twenty-one-year old. I glanced down at Gator and he smiled up at me happily. I grinned, but thought, Oh shit!


My email address is jnuanced@gmail.com. I have up to four or five chapters in mind for this story. Let me hear from you if you think you'd like me to continue it. :)