Date: Tue, 16 Nov 2004 17:44:16 +0000 (GMT)
From: Veneration <veneration2003@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Whangaroa  Part 1

The standard disclaimer applies. If you don't want to, don't. If you
shouldn't, don't. If you do want to, what the hell, go for it.

Comments are welcome to veneration2003@yahoo.co.uk. 


Whangaroa
By Veneration

Part 1
Chapter 1

Studs Manley inspected his naked body in the bathroom mirror, from his
jet-dark hair, to his strong jaw, to his powerful chest, past his mighty
eight inch (when soft, that is) weapon, down to his size 12 feet that
anchored him firmly to the ground. Studs combed his lustrous blond locks as
he prepared to meet the prime minister to explain how to prevent hard drugs
from coming into the country... No, he was going on a dangerous mission with
the secret service... No, he was...

I sighed as the fantasy wavered and dissolved into reality. My geeky self
peered back at me from the mirror, with my mousy brown hair, chest and arms
with no muscles worth speaking of, and pathetic noodle dangling between my
legs. I was no hero, that was for sure. I was 19 and still living at home
and was saddled with the name Maurice Morrison.  What sort of faggot name
was that, for God's sake. What were my parents thinking of when they named
me? Was there some sort of sign at my birth that told everyone what I was
going to be, or was it my name that made me queer? I bet that was it. If
Casanova or Don Juan had been named Maurice Morrison, I'm sure they would
have been poofters.  Whereas, if I had the name Casanova. well . in a
middle-class suburb in the early 1970s? Not only would I have been sure to
be batting for the other side, but everyone in town would have known it.
TANJ.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud pounding on the bathroom door.

"Hey, what are you doing in there for so long? I need to use the
bathroom. NOW!"

That was Larry. He was four years younger than me, but just as tall, and
stronger and more athletic, better looking, more popular with more
friends. At least I was more intelligent and did better at school, and what
a big consolation that was. Yeah, right. I slipped on my jockeys and opened
the door. Larry barged in, towel wrapped around his waist.

"About time, now get out."

"Give me half a chance. I'd rather go and bang my head against a brick wall
that stay here with you," I retorted as I left the room.

Larry slammed the door in my face as he let his towel fall to the floor,
but I saw nothing, not a dickey bird. As I trudged to my room I reflected
that I hadn't seen him naked since he was around 10 or 11, when he still
had a little boy prick that only knew about wee wee.  But it was a cute
little dangly thing that I had longed to fiddle with, but never dared to.
Then he developed the modesty that is so common for boys as they become
self-conscious about their bodies with approaching puberty. That was a pity
as I would have enjoyed watching his dick grow and his bush sprout. I could
have been a helpful big brother and shown him the pleasures of
masturbation, perhaps even more. The least a boy should do is to guide his
little brother into manhood. But it was not to be. Larry grew awkward with
the surge of testosterone, then confident with his developing body. By then
he no longer idolised me the way he used to, but instead didn't want to
have anything to do with me.  That's just fine by me, I was sick of the
little brat hanging around all the time, anyway.

I entered the kitchen, where the morning sun streamed over the old and
rather battered oak table that stood in a corner of the room. I was fully
dressed by this stage, of course, as if I would wander around in front of
my parents in my underwear and as if they would let me.

"Have you packed your bag?"

"Yes, Mum." I put some bread in the toaster and poured a cup of only
slightly over- brewed tea.

"Well, don't forget to pack it away in the yacht. We need to get a move on
as we are running late. I don't know why you and Max take so long to get
ready. It's meant to be girls who take forever in the bathroom, yet Anne
has been organised for ages."

I glanced over at where my sister was having breakfast with our parents at
the table and rolled my eyes.

"It's all tickety boo. It'll be alright on the night," I muttered.

"Morrie," warned my father. Perhaps I should learn to mutter a little
quieter.

"I got a call from Jack Anderson a little while ago," he continued.

I looked blankly at him as I brought my breakfast to the table. "Jack
Anderson?"

"You know very well who the Andersons are and that they are coming away on
holiday with us."

"Yeah, but I try to purge the `Family from Hell' from my mind as much as
possible."

"Maurice, that is a nasty thing to say about our friends. At your age I
expect better of you than that," Mum scolded as Dad tried to smother a
smile.

"Jack phoned to say that Jane is not well and won't be coming on holiday."

"You mean they've had another big fight and she is staying home in a sulk,"
cried Larry as he burst into the kitchen and, like a revved up whirlwind,
prepared his breakfast.

I always admired the speed at which that boy could gather and consume cold
juice, cold cereal with cold milk, with no time wasted on heating anything.
Can't say much for the mess he would leave behind him though, just like any
self-respecting whirlwind.

"That may well be," said Dad, "but it means that Jack is short of a crew
that he can rely on and he wondered if you would crew for him, Morrie."

"Rely on?" queried Larry with a snort, the little bastard.

"But what about Rat Boy and the Snow Queen?"

"That's enough of that," warned Mum, but she looked like she was trying to
hide a smile.  Larry grinned as he shovelled cereal in his mouth, only
spilling a little on the table. Hah, Mum gave up on putting a tablecloth on
the kitchen table years ago.

"Henry and Iris are not really up to helping if there is bad weather or
heavy work to be done, so I said that you would sail with them." The tone
of voice and look on his face told me that it was a done deal and no
argument would be tolerated.

I could get away with my bad mouth, as long as I didn't cross the line of
unacceptable behaviour. Larry still hadn't learnt where that invisible line
was, which was just fine by me as it helped divert our parents' attention
away from me. Besides, Jack, the Grouch, probably did need my help as Rat
Boy was just a little kid and the Snow Queen was a stuck-up bitch who would
never demean herself by being able to do anything useful.

They probably needed someone like Studs Manley to take over when their
yacht was caught up in the middle of a hurricane and the Grouch was struck
on the head by the boom and needed brain surgery within the hour or he
would suffer irreversible brain damage. Yeah, Studs could do that, no
problem.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Anne?"

"Does this mean that there will only be three people in the Andersons'
car?"

"Yes, I suppose it does."

"Well, our car is crowded with five people in it and it's horrible being
squashed in the back with Morrie and Larry. I think the best idea is if we
spread out and I go in the Anderson's car. Can I go with them? Please."

"I can see the sense in that, but it might be better if Morrie goes with
them seeing as he is going to be sailing on their yacht.

"No, that's not fair. Morrie will be sailing with Iris all the time and I
will never see her.  Besides, I thought of it first," Anne whined.

Anne is nice enough, I supposed, apart from the handicaps of being a girl
and my sister.  But with the way that she dotes on the Snow Queen, I
thought that she must be running on low wattage bulbs. And to think that I
want to spend any time with the bitch from the Family from Hell, Anne must
have a bunch of dead light bulbs that need replacing before it's too late.

"Oh, no, that's perfectly OK," I hastened to answer. "You go in the
Andersons' car. I'll be seeing altogether too much of the Snow Queen as it
is."

Larry glanced slyly at me. "I'll go in the Andersons' car, and I'll crew
for them too. I don't mind Iris."

"You most certainly will not," said Mum. "We want someone who can be
responsible for at least half of the time."

"NO, I'm going in their car."

"Morrie, responsible?"

"Well, I'll just stay home then and that will solve everything."

"Be quiet, all of you."

And so passed another idyllic family breakfast on a quiet suburban street
on a sunny summer morning.


Chapter 2

We eventually hitched the yacht trailer onto the car, loaded all our gear
and drove to the Anderson house, where the Grouch, Snow Queen and Rat Boy
were waiting for us, but Sour Ball was nowhere to be seen. It was all
`sorry that Jane couldn't come' and `thanks Morrie for agreeing to crew for
us' and `it's going to be a great trip this year' and `thanks for letting
Anne ride in your car' and we were all very jolly and friendly and best
buddies setting off on our hols together. I thought I was past all that
family shit when I left school, but no, here I was once again.

The Snow Queen was cool to Anne, who was younger than her and just a girl;
just about totally ignored me, making me wonder what her instinct was
telling her; and fluttery with Larry, who was the same age and a boy and a
spunk. I thought he was a spunk too, but I never said that Snow Queens
can't be smart about what's important to them. Anne, who had won the battle
to travel with the Andersons, hung on Iris' every word and gesture.  Larry
preened under the feminine attention. I was superior to all this, obviously
having got most of the brains amongst the Morrison children.

I glanced over at Rat Boy, who was standing off to one side. I had never
paid much attention to him as he was part of the Family from Hell that I
tried to avoid, but I realised that he looked kind of cute. He was starting
to mature and had lost most of the drowned rat appearance of not so long
ago. His black hair was no longer lank, his face had filled out and was not
so narrow and pointy, and he had even grown a chin. Henry was dressed in a
loose shirt and his long lean legs, that emerged from baggy shorts, ended
in slender sandal-shod feet. There was still a slight rattiness to his
appearance, but he was not bad, not bad at all. As I considered Henry
thoughtfully, he turned his head and saw me looking at him. I blushed and
looked away.

"Hello, Morrie."

I turned to find that Henry had approached and was looking up at me, with
clear grey eyes, smooth brown face, and hesitant smile on quite kissable
lips. He was a Rat Boy no longer and I really had to stop calling him that.

"Oh, hi Henry."

"I think it's cool you're going to be crewing on our yacht."

"Oh, sure, but you do know what the deal is, don't you?"

"Deal?" His brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

"Yes. The deal is that you do all the work and I just supervise."

Henry looked blank for a moment, then grinned. "I don't think so, I've got
a good book I'm going to be reading."

"Book? I can't stand books on boats. They make me really mad and I'm sure
to grab it and throw it overboard. Then you will have plenty of time to be
crew."

Henry's smile widened. "But I wont let you. I will keep hold of it."

"Bothersome boys who are attached to firmly to their books are likely to go
overboard with them."

"But then you will have to be crew as there wont be anyone else."

"Blast, foiled again."

Henry giggled.

"OK kids, everyone in the car," Dad called out and we were ready to set
off.

There was more room than usual during the drive because of Anne's absence,
but Larry took up most of it with his legs splayed out as wide as they
would go. It was a typical macho male posture, implying that it was
necessary to make room for large sperm-filled balls. I looked down at
Larry's groin to see whether I could see the outline of his package.  Was
that a fold in his shorts, or something else? It was impossible to
tell. Larry appeared to be in a trance for most of the trip, as if he was
awash in a sea of raging teen hormones that prevented his brain from
functioning. Come to think of it, that would explain a lot of his behaviour
most of the time.

Studs Manley was driving in the trans-Saharan car rally, trying to repeat
the previous year's victory. His driving skills, where he drove so close to
the limit, yet was always in control, awed the spectators. He had an
uncanny ability to anticipate hazards before they arose and then slow down
to a safe speed. The only moment of danger came when Studs didn't see a
goat on the road until it was almost too late. He had been thinking of the
young, very friendly mechanic who had recently joined the team and had been
flirting with Studs, promising him a good time after the rally was
over. The rest of the crew called him Rats . um, no, his name was Ralf.

'Fuck me,' Studs swore when he noticed the goat and swerved around it with
incredible skill.

'Well, if you want,' his navigator murmured, his legs splayed out.

Studs finally won the rally, with the largest margin in the history of the
race, just as we reached our destination.

Whangaroa Harbour was surrounded by steep, bush-covered hills that reached
out to shelter many inlets. The water was deep, often calm, and dark from
the reflection of the surrounding trees. In bad weather, with overcast
skies, rain, and driving wind that stirred up waves that curled and broke
as they scudded over the surface of the water, Whangaroa Harbour was cold,
bleak and menacing. In fine weather, however, the waters were still and
sparkled in the sun, the air warm with perhaps the slightest breeze to stop
it being oppressive, and the harbour peaceful. Small boats of all types
would dot the waters, going about their business of purposeful leisure.

We drove along the inlet with the general store, jetty and boat ramp, then
over a low hill to the end of the road, where two baches nestled side by
side on the beach. The large hill at the far end of the bay guarded the
entrance to Whangaroa Harbour. We had rented both cottages, along with a
third family who would be joining us.

The Andersons' car and yacht was already parked outside the baches. Grouch
must have driven like a bat out of hell, or more likely made everyone else
miserable as well as himself by not stopping for toilet breaks, meal
breaks, stretch your leg breaks, and ice-cream breaks. You know, just the
ordinary essential stuff.

As we got out of the car, Henry came up to us, with a big cheerful smile.

"I'll show you where we are sleeping," he said and he led Larry and me to
the boys' bunkroom in one of the baches, the girls' bunkroom being next
door.

Henry's bag was on one of the top bunks, so I dumped my gear on the bunk
below it.  Larry chose the other top bunk, then let rip a loud fart.

"Better out than in" he announced.

"I'm better out than in, too. Out of the room, that is," I replied and I
left the room to look at the view from the verandah. Henry followed and
stood close to me.

"That was gross," he laughed.

"Yes, but that's my brother for you. Gross. Come on, lets go down to the
water."

We wandered down to the waters edge and had a paddle in the shallows, which
is part of the standard ritual of checking out any new beach. After the
first shock of getting our feet wet, the water was cool and refreshing.

I looked out at the harbour beyond the bay we were in and at the hills
behind the baches.  "This is pretty nice."

"It sure is," Henry enthused, "this is going to be a great holiday."

I looked at him with a mock doubtful look. "Well I suppose that is just
barely possible, unlikely as it might seem."

Henry grinned and playfully pushed me on the chest.

"Aargh," I cried and, with a wild windmilling of my arms, I fell back on
the beach. We had moved out of the water by that stage, of course. I might
be mad, but I'm not dumb.

Henry laughed. "Idiot."

"If you are going to be such a bully, you had better help me up."

I held out my hands for Henry to grab. With his hands in mine he hauled me
to me feet.  Boys don't hold normally hands, but there are ways to get
around that. Henry had nice soft, warm, small hands; though actually not
very much smaller than mine. We returned to the bach and sat on chairs on
the verandah, while the families settled in.

The Palmers arrived, with their yacht in tow, just before tea. There was
Coarse Kev, short and bloated like a toad, and his much younger second
wife, Helen the Toy, and their two little girls. They were staying in the
bach with the girls' bunkhouse. Its living area was larger than that of the
other cottage and was going to be used for the communal meals.

Ah, communal living and meals, I could see that these were going to be a
real joy. Coarse Kev was loud and vulgar with a laugh like a donkey. Helen
the Toy was elegant and refined, as a trophy wife should be, but not on a
seaside holiday. The Grouch complained about everything, nothing was right
with the world. It was enough to make me think that perhaps Mum and Dad
weren't too bad after all, at least on a good day. The girls were giggly
and thought the Snow Queen was the best thing since Barbie dolls, while the
poor bitch couldn't decide between basking in their attention and sucking
up to Helen the Toy.

At dinner time everyone crowded around the table. Larry sat on one side of
me, taking up more room than he should with his flying elbows. Henry was on
my other side and, as we were jammed together, our arms touched from time
to time as we ate. I moved slightly, trying to get comfortable on the hard
wooden chair and my knee bumped against Henry's.  He immediately moved his
knee away, but then a few minutes later gently returned it. As we chatted
about what we were going to do on the holiday I was intensely aware of the
warmth of his bare knee resting against mine. After a few minutes I thought
Henry might start to think this physical contact was becoming odd, rather
than casual, so moved my leg away. Was there a sigh, more felt than heard
above the dinner racket? It was impossible to be sure.

During a lull in the conversation, Anne piped up. "Mum, can Iris go sailing
with us tomorrow?"

Our mother hesitated, but before she could come up with good reasons why
this wasn't a good idea, Iris spoke. "Oh, I couldn't possibly impose. That
would be too much bother for you and you will want to spend time alone with
your family."

Mum couldn't say no after that. She had been completely outmanoeuvred by
the Snow Queen. Of course, the cunning bitch didn't want to go sailing with
Anne, it was my brother she was after. I felt Larry stir beside me as his
attention was caught by the conversation.  The poor sod was the Snow
Queen's prey and he didn't have a hope.

Later that evening the children were sent to bed. The younger ones were
past their normal bedtimes, but they were allowed up late as it was holiday
time. I was in that uncertain transition phase between childhood and
adulthood. I could have made a point of staying up with the other adults
but, quite frankly, I didn't want to and would much rather have bedtime
with the other boys. Who knows what might happen?

As we started to undress in the bunkroom, I hesitated, then quickly removed
all my clothes until I was standing naked. I felt slightly naughty,
displaying myself like that, but also slightly excited. Would I be a role
model for the others and would they follow my example? I glanced towards
Henry, who was standing at the other end of the bunk. He was wearing only
his shirt, but was modestly turned away and all I could see was the bottom
of his bum, peeking out from under his shirt. Henry bent over to pull on
his pyjama pants and his shirt rode up his back to reveal his pearly white
cheeks. Very tasty and inviting they were, too.

I checked out Larry. He had stripped down to his white jockeys and was just
climbing up to his bunk. So Larry wore his undies to bed. How unhygienic
and how typical of that scungy boy. I glanced back at Henry to find he was
looking towards my groin. He quickly looked away and his ears turned pink
as he blushed slightly. So, Henry was interested in my equipment, was he?
That was promising for the holiday ahead. I would have to see what I could
make of that.


Chapter 3

The next day, after breakfast, we all drove to the boat ramp. There was
lots of activity, preparing the yachts for launching. I helped out the
Grouch and Henry, raising the mast, attaching the boom, getting the sails
out of their sail bags and getting them ready for raising. We launched the
yachts down the ramp, then tied them up at the jetty. We lowered the
centreplate and did all those myriad of things that need to be done before
a yacht is ready for sailing. Then we cast off from the jetty. The Grouch
motored into the wind while I hauled on the main and the jib halyards. The
sheets were tightened, the motor turned off and we were sailing.

A light sea breeze was blowing up the harbour, which meant that as we were
heading out to sea, we were beating into the wind. Grouch was on the
tiller, then every time we tacked Henry would release one jib sheet, while
I would haul in the other. We were not racing, not at all, but we were
keenly aware of how well the other two yachts were sailing and didn't see
any point in letting them get ahead unnecessarily. Every time Henry was a
little quick to release his jib sheet or I was a little slow to pull in
mine, the Grouch would growl.

As the yacht approached the entrance to the harbour the breeze picked up a
little and the yacht began to heel. I sat on the leeward side of the
cockpit and Henry was on the windward side. The high side might seem more
secure, being further away from the sea, but the low side was more
comfortable as you didn't have to brace yourself against sliding off the
seat. Watching the water hiss past so close to me was soothing. Abstract
patterns of white foam floated on the top of the sea and the sight was
unchanging, but never exactly the same.

Henry looked over at me with an enormous smile. "This is so cool," he said.

The sun shone on his face, which was silhouetted against the blue sky with
its white puffy clouds, and the wind ruffled his hair and shirt. I looked
down at his slightly knobbly knees and slender thighs with their light
dusting of very fine hairs that disappeared into his baggy shorts. I could
see part way up Henry's shorts and could almost imagine that I might be
able to see all the way to his family jewels. But of course I couldn't and
even if I could, all I would see would be his underpants. It was
tantalising, but frustrating, that Henry's little treasure-trove should be
so close, but so inaccessible.

I looked back up to Henry's face, to find that he was watching me. He had a
serious, thoughtful look on his face, then with a small smile he turned
away to look ahead. At least Henry didn't know what I had been looking at
and fantasising about. Surely not?

Once we were out of the entrance of the harbour, we eased sheets and headed
south towards Great Mercury Island and Peach Tree Cove, which was about an
hour's sail away.  When we arrived in the bay, there was a flurry of
activity. The motor was turned on, the mainsail was lowered and tied to the
boom, the jib was furled, the centreplate was winched up, and the bow of
the yacht was gently run onto the sandy beach. The anchor was planted in
the sand and everything needed for a day on the beach was carried up into
the shade of the pohutakawa at the top of the beach.

"Can we go for a swim?"

"Yes, you can have a quick swim before lunch."

"Are you coming for a swim, Morrie?" Henry asked.

"Yes, of course."

The girls went in one direction down the beach to change behind the bushes,
while the boys went behind some bushes in the other direction. Larry was so
quick in whipping off his pants and pulling on his togs, before removing
his shirt, that I only quickest glimpse of his arse. Then he was back down
onto the beach. Henry modestly turned away before removing his shorts and
jockeys. While it was a cute butt peeking at me from below his shirt, it
was no more than I had seen the previous night and that was no longer
enough.

I stripped naked and stood facing Henry. I was in no hurry to put on my
togs, so was still bare when he turned towards me as he removed his
shirt. Henry's gaze immediately dropped down to my cock, then realising
that I was watching what he was doing, he dragged his stare back up to my
face.

"Oh, sorry," he apologised.

"Why are you sorry? Is it that revolting to look at?"

"No, it's not revolting at all. It's..." Henry swallowed his words as he
realised how close he was to saying altogether too much. He blushed a
bright crimson and turned away. The way that I could make that boy blush
was rather sweet.

"Hey, don't sweat it. It's perfectly natural for guys to check each other
out."

I pulled on my togs and punched him gently on the shoulder as I walked past
him and back onto the beach. Yes! Henry was interested. Surely I would be
able to see him naked before the end of the holiday.

The adults lounged on the beach, while the kids frolicked in and near the
water. The Snow Queen held court, surrounded by her female admirers, and
quickly called Larry to her side, while Henry and I kept to ourselves. Did
Larry look longingly in our direction once or twice? Did he look as if he
was about to join us, until the Snow Queen called him back?  Perhaps he was
starting to find the limits to her attractions. Sometimes a healthy boy
just wants to do boy stuff with other boys.

Henry and I had returned to the beach, then were wading back out into the
sea again, when he suddenly jumped onto my back, wrapping his arms around
my neck and his legs around my waist.

"Gotcha," he cried triumphantly.

"Not for long," I retorted and tried to shake him off.

I fell down into the water and tried to escape his grasp. He was a very
wriggly, slippery boy and my greater size was of no great advantage in our
wrestling match, especially as I didn't particularly care about winning. I
ended up lying in the shallows of the bay, Henry on top of me, held loosely
in my arms. His laughing face was only a few inches from mine and we gazed
into each others eyes. I moved a hand and rested it on his bum.

"That's my bottom you're touching," he commented.

"Is that a problem?"

He shrugged. "You grabbed my goolies a couple of times when we were
wrestling."

"I'm sorry."

Henry grinned. "Why are you sorry? Were they that revolting to grab?"

I laughed. "No, I'm sure they are lovely to hold. I'm just sorry that I
didn't know what I was grabbing. There's no point in copping a feel if you
don't know about it."

Had I gone to far? Would Henry think I was joking or would he take me
seriously, and how would he react to that?

Henry looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned. "You know you're still
holding my bottom?"

"Yes, and it's lovely, too," I replied as I began to caress it.

It was probably just as well that we were called to lunch at that time, as
I could so easily have got carried away. As we walked up the beach, Larry
passed us.

"You were acting like immature little kids," he grumbled.

I looked at Henry. "Larry's just jealous that we were actually having fun."

It was time to pack everything away by mid-afternoon, in preparation for
our return to Whangaroa Harbour. Henry and I went back behind the bushes to
get changed into our clothes. We faced each other and I removed my
togs. Henry hesitated, then swiftly removed his. He stood there quietly,
open and vulnerable, accepting my gaze. He had a cute dick, probably about
average sized for his age, with a foreskin that tapered past his
dickhead. A narrow crescent of hair curved over the base of his cock.

As I looked at him, Henry took this as permission to openly stare at me,
and so we feasted our eyes as we went through the motions of drying
ourselves with our towels. My heart began to pound and I could feel my cock
begin to stir and harden. Were we ready to move onto the next stage? I
wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed when Larry burst through the
bushes. TANJ.

"Well, what a rude pair of nudists you are," he said as he began to dry
himself.

"You know what they say," I replied. "If you've got it, flaunt it."

"And if you don't have it, hide it." Larry stared scornfully at my cock.
"So, Morrie, you really, really need to hide it."

Ouch. That was much wittier than I ever expected to hear from my brother.
But I wasn't about to let Larry beat me in word play.

"Well, maybe, but I notice it's you who's hiding it. I wonder why that is,
little, little, little brother?"

"It's bigger than yours," he retorted.

"Oh, yeah? Prove it."

"I don't have to prove anything."

Larry paused, then shrugged and took off his togs before quickly turning
away to dress. I had enough time, however, to get a quick look at Larry's
dick. It was circumcised, appeared to be a little longer than mine, and was
definitely fatter. He had plump balls and a tidy patch of pubes that was
still not very dense. I looked over at Henry, to find that he had also been
staring at Larry. He smiled back at me, then continued dressing.



Chapter 4

The sail back to Whangaroa Harbour was one of those magical times that
happen all too seldom. The Grouch had decided that I could be trusted with
his yacht, and that he was tired, so he went down into the cabin for a
rest. The wind was on our beam and the seas were slight, so the sailing was
easy. I was tired and at peace after a day of sailing, swimming, sun, sea
and sand. I had let Henry take the helm and spent much of my time looking
at him, with occasional glances up at the sails or ahead towards the
mainland.  Henry concentrated on his sailing, with the occasional look and
smile at me.

And to cap a perfect day, I had finally got to see both my beautiful boys
full-frontal naked.  Um, . not that I regarded Larry as my boy in any
way. No, of course not. After all, I didn't even like the little shit.
Though he was a sexy lad. Nice arse, too.

One thing that did disturb me on that afternoon sail was the memory of
Larry's circumcised cock. When did that happen? I wasn't cut, so it wasn't
a Morrison family tradition, and Larry wasn't cut at age 10. I had taken a
taken a close enough interest in his little dick that I could be quite
certain of that. So, when was Larry circumcised, and why, and how come I
never knew about it? Or perhaps I was mistaken somehow, though I had had a
clear view of his cockhead, with no sign of any foreskin.

But all magical times must come to an end and we arrived back in Whangaroa
Harbour.  People and gear were offloaded onto the beach below the baches,
the yachts moved back into the bay and their anchors dropped for the
night. This was to be the pattern for the rest of the holiday, rather than
hauling the yachts out of the water every night. Once that was done, Dad
ferried the remaining crew back to the beach in the dinghy he had brought.
Actually, he took the Grouch and Larry and me to the beach, and left me to
fetch Coarse Kev and Helen the Toy.

Later that evening the boys and girls were sent off to bed. As soon as
Henry and I were in the bunkroom, we stripped naked, eager to display
ourselves. Larry undressed to his jockeys and looked as if he was about to
climb into his bunk. Except that he wasn't going to resume his modest
habits if I could help it.

"Aren't you changing into clean underpants? I hope those aren't the filthy
old things from yesterday."

"What do you care?"

"Well, since I have to put up with your grungy undies stinking up the
bunkroom I care a lot. Don't be so disgusting."

Larry rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

He removed his jockeys, but then had to stand naked as he looked through
his bag for some clean ones. I stared at his cock. I wasn't mistaken and it
really did seem to be circumcised.

But then Larry noticed me looking. "What are you staring at, pervert?"

"When were you circumcised?"

"What do you mean? I'm not."

"Of course you are. I can see it plain as day."

Larry looked down at his cock. "Oh. It's just that the foreskin rolls back
sometimes."

"Really? When does it do that?"

"Well, sometimes it covers the head, but it's usually rolled back like
this. I don't know why, it just is."

Henry was standing besides me by this time and, shoulder touching shoulder,
we leaned over and peered intently at Larry's mysterious cock.

"This is starting to get weird," he muttered, but he tolerated our
inspection.

I could see that the skin behind the head appeared to be quite loose and
could have been a retracted foreskin. I automatically began to reach for
it, but restrained myself. That would have been going too far for Larry to
accept.

"Don't touch my dick," Larry warned.

"In your dreams."

"No, in YOUR dreams."

Little did Larry know how right he was.

"Well, go on. Show us then."

"What?"

"How your foreskin can cover the head of your cock."

"This is getting very weird," he grumbled, but what teenage boy doesn't
think his cock is the most interesting part of his body and Larry was just
a little bit proud of showing off his most interesting toy.

Larry grasped his cock with finger and thumb and rolled the foreskin so
that it covered his cockhead. Then Larry released his hold and the foreskin
immediately rolled back. His cock twitched and began to swell a little.

"Amazing. I know why it does that," I said as I straightened up.

"Why?" Larry looked a little suspicious, as if he thought I was about to
say something insulting. Who, me?

"You're a teenager, which means that you are always horny. Your cock is
ready to spring a woody at any time and if your foreskin isn't very large
it will roll back with the slightest bit of swelling of your cock."

Larry started to deny it, but then shrugged and grinned. "Well, yeah,
maybe."

"Unlike Henry here, whose foreskin is plenty long enough to cover the
head."

Larry glanced at Henry, whose foreskin did still cover his cockhead, even
though I could tell from today's close inspections that his cock had
started to stiffen just a little.

"OK, that's too much dick talk," Larry stated firmly and he pulled on his
clean underpants and climbed into bed.

We were all in bed with the lights turned out when Larry whispered, "Hey
Morrie."

I looked over towards him and saw his face, pale and ghostly in the gloom,
peering at me from his bunk.

"How come you knew I shouldn't be circumcised?"

"Don't forget that I have seen you naked plenty of times when you were
younger."

"Yeah, but that was years ago. How come you noticed and remembered? You
pervert."  Larry laughed and rolled over to go to sleep.



TO BE CONTINUED...


Postscript:

Those of you who recognise the place names will realise that the geography
is badly wrong. The reason is that this is a work of fiction and that any
superficial resemblance to a small country in the South Pacific with lots
of sheep is purely coincidental. This is a story about relationships and
about sex (yes, really). The sailing is background for the story and I hope
that it conveys something of the atmosphere of sailing holidays in small
yachts, but there is no intention of making the geography accurate. For
that sort of story you should look elsewhere.