The Love of Sailing

This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.

The story is copyright 1999 by "Its Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of present, and also the email address of I'd love to receive feedback.


They came on a Monday. We were all ready, waiting for the season to start. The boats were ready, the power launches were ready, the kayaks were ready. Almost all the instructors were there that morning. Of course, it was raining, but that's what you expect, and if you are going to learn to sail or paddle a canoe, you don't care a bit. It's all water, after all. Mind you some water is cleaner than other water. It is the Thames we're talking about!

I had only qualified as an instructor last summer. It wasn't difficult, not if you know how to sail, but the teaching was a new thing. I'd just left school a week ago, and was waiting to go to university. I was leaving a lot behind me, and going on to a whole new world; new friends, new interests, new ideas, and a whole new way of life. Independent life. Scary stuff, but not when you're still seventeen, well only just! I'd be eighteen in a week's time.

I guess I was only sad about one thing I was leaving behind, but I had already mostly done that. Just one thing. One huge thing. But it wasn't something I could have anyway, so there was no point in thinking about it. Except I did. Constantly.


The kids arrived. A bit of a motley crowd, actually, ages from eleven to about seventeen or there abouts. Sea Scouts, with us for a week's camp, about 30 of them. A dormitory full of girls and a dormitory and a half full of boys.

We did the usual - checked out the talent. The superintendent, a retired Naval officer had already given us the pre-course briefing, British Naval fashion. "Thou shalt not knock off the course," he'd said, "especially if they are little boys!" Always got a laugh. Wasn't funny the third time, but we laughed anyway. There was some talent, though. Beautiful to look at, just two beautiful girls. I'm good at appreciating beauty. They were twins, about sixteen, and drop dead gorgeous.

I admired them with the rest of the guys, but couldn't get enthusiastic. For one thing, Hugh always got the best looking girls, so one twin would be 'spoken for', and for the other thing, I'm not a 'girl' kind of guy. I'm not sure what to call myself, but I know I get turned on by guys. Younger guys. Fully clothed, shirtless, swimwear, naked, but guys. I've tried to find girls erotic, believe me I've tried, but I don't. I don't want to be different. And it scares me.

I've never so much as touched another boy. Well only by accident, real accident. I'm terrified of doing so. I've kissed girls, but it was, is, always just a wet experience. I still kissed them because I've got an image to keep up, but I've never actually enjoyed it. "Jim's always got a girl on his arm," they said. And I suppose I had. But it was always a different girl. Always. And being with her kept me safe from myself. I could check out the boys in safety. I could even joke about offering small boys humbugs to sleep with me. Macho stuff.

But I hurt inside. Where it matters.

Especially when I thought about the thing I was leaving behind.

There were a couple of boys on this course that caught my eye. One had spiky fair hair, a puckish face and brown eyes, about 5' 4", slim, perhaps 14, cute, cheeky; the other, flowing blond hair, bright blue eyes, smiley face with a hint of wicked - taller than the other. Older, I thought. Gorgeous in Sea Scout blue formal uniforms. Both gorgeous.

And I was lost in this dreamy state when I felt a tap on the shoulder.

"Go and get that guy from the ferry point." Hugh was being 'in charge'!

"Yeah, OK," and I jumped into the launch, let go, and chugged over from our island to the bank with the usual 'upstream, across current, downstream, upstream' first half of the figure of eight, and collected him. We couldn't talk over the noise of the air cooled diesel.

"Ben." He said as we came ashore. "I'm Ben."

"Jim," shaking the hand he offered.

"I've come to learn how to teach sailing," he added. "I think I'm meant to report somewhere."

"I'll take you." So we went to the superintendent's office, and I left him there and went back to considering the two fair haired kids who had caught my eye. It was easy to look at them without getting caught out. We had moved in to the first session of the day, a safety briefing, so Hugh was telling them about water safety. I was sitting at the front, in among the other instructors, facing the group. I heard the doors open, and Ben walked in and sat quietly at the back.

Usual morning stuff, then coffee break. We hard ours in the Wardroom. Very Navy. Bean came and talked to Hugh. I guess they were working out his schedule.

"Jim," Hugh called, "can you spare a minute?"


"Ben's joined us for the summer. He's going to be an assistant instructor. I want you to look after him, Jim, and show him the ropes."

"Fine," I said. "Have you got your room sorted out, Ben?"

"I think I'm sharing with you," he said, "if you don't mind?"

There wasn't anything to mind. Sharing was usual. I'd wondered who my roommate would be. Now I knew. Didn't know what he was like, though, but we'd get to know each other soon.

"How old are you?" I asked as I showed him the way

"Eighteen, nearly nineteen," he replied.

"What do you sail?" A pretty usual question. You can always tell what kind of a guy someone is by the boats he sails. I wanted to know whether I had a nerd for a roommate.

"Oh, nothing much, International 14s mostly," he said, naming the hairiest fourteen footer known to man. I grunted, refusing to be impressed, and we went back to the Wardroom.

By then, Hugh had given me my pupils. I had the twins, and Hugh was working out with Ben what he was going to do.

It was still raining, but warm enough, and we had a pretty good day, all in all. In the evening, the Wardroom is a bar, so we all sat around, yarning, catching up on the last winter's stuff, drinking, discussing our chances with this week's course. I got lost in my thoughts about the two lads - pretty, soft faces, slim, beautiful, cheeky.... I was suddenly aware of Ben...

"What do you reckon about the twins?"

"No contest," I said. Hugh has reserved one, already."

"The other?"

"Not for me. 'Thou shalt not knock off the course'!" I omitted the 'especially if they are all little boys' part.

"I never heard that before," and he laughed.

"Superintendent's favourite saying."


And we passed the evening in trivial chatter, and then wound our way to room and bed. "Does Hugh really get a girl each course?" he asked as we undressed for bed.

"He says he does."

"What about you?"

"Not really," I confided. "It's, oh, you know, mostly talk."

"I'd wondered," Ben said softly. "I'd wondered, because..."


"Well, you had a kind of dreamy look about you earlier, and I was wondering..."

As he was talking, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling with a particularly difficult sock, and I glanced in his direction. I'd had roommates before, and never paid them any attention. Ben seemed different. I couldn't work it out but he wasn't, well threatening. That's the wrong word. I can't get to the right one. Gentler, understanding, sweeter aren't right either. Nicer. Yes, that described it better. Nicer. And with a young body, I noticed, smooth skin, unblemished, soft muscles, long legs, clean cut, but slightly, well slightly soft in outline, and a really cute face. He reminded me, now of, of, of . . .

But he wasn't. And the expression on my face must have given away the fact that there was something wrong, because he had stopped talking and sat on his bed, facing me "Are you OK?"

"Yes," too quickly and hotly.

"I, er, I'm, er"

"Sorry. Yes, I'm OK. You just reminded me of some--something, that's all"

"Were you going to say 'someone'?"

"No!" too quickly again. "No, well, yes, no" I was taken aback. I mean, he seemed interested, and interested in me, and I wanted to talk to him, to tell him.

"Who?" softly, eyes lowered. No eye contact, no pressure


"Jim, who do I remind you of? Who was he?" just opposite me sitting just out of reach, looking, oh compassionate. "I may just understand," he added quietly. "I saw where you were looking this afternoon. They're cute, but not for you, nor for me."

"I, er, you, er, but..."

"You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to," he said. "I understand, I think, more than you might think I do"

And I found myself talking to him. I told him about myself, my childhood, my schooling, and how I had left behind the person I loved most in the whole world, that 'thing' I couldn't stop thinking about. It was strange, wonderful, but strange, sitting there, half dressed, talking, quietly and having someone listen for the first time in my life. Being able to tell someone, at last, how much I had loved Paul, and how Paul hadn't wanted to know, and had ignored me, about how beautiful Paul was, and how slim, and cute, and wicked. I found I was sitting there with tears starting to fall from my cheeks, no crying, but tears, and emotions I had held in check running away with me. And I didn't know why I was telling him, except that he was listening, and felt safe.

Somewhere in the middle of all this I found myself wondering why. "Why am I telling you all this? I've never told anyone anything. You're a complete stranger, and I'm telling you everything." And I subsided into silence for a while. And as I was silent, he reached out with the back of his index finger, and brushed away my tears, and I looked at his eyes, the deepest blue I had ever seen, and felt drawn in, pulled, by gravity, like into a black hole. He reminded me of Paul, but he was different. Similar looks, I suppose, are what started me talking, but Ben understood. Ben just knew, almost by instinct, what I was talking about.

Eventually, I sort of finished. I'd been going round in circles for a while, and juddered to a halt, out of fuel, I guess.


"Yes?" softly, tired out, but almost happy

"Jim, those kids on the course aren't for you."

"I know, but they are good to think about."

"They aren't for me either."

"You said something like that earlier."

"I did. Jim, I'm not sure that this is the time, but..."


"I was hoping... Oh shit... I can listen, but I can't talk." Pause. "I was wondering if--if you..."

As he was struggling with his words, I found I was looking at him closely, looking at this, this, this.. What was he, and why did it feel safe to talk to him, and what was he trying to tell me? And I saw his shoulders start to shake and tears start to cascade down his cheeks. I don't know what made me do it, but I went over and sat next to him, and put my arm round his shoulders. "it's OK"

"It isn't OK, Jim, (sob) it just isn't."

"I think it's your turn to talk."


"Shh" And I wiped his cheeks.

"sob" quieter now, but still crying. And I put my arm round his shoulders. And he didn't pull away - he sort of pressed towards me.

"Shh", and I found I was kissing his cheek, tasting the salt tears. "It's OK, just shh" And I was stroking his hair, just gently, just softly, just healing his pain, not knowing what it was. We were there for ages. And gradually he was able to stop.

And when he stopped, I found that his arms were around me, and his face was next to mine, and he was holding me as though he didn't dare let me go. It felt good. Odd, but good. We were sitting there, on the edge of his bed, me with one sock still half on, dressed in underwear, skin to skin, cheek to cheek. "What was wrong?" I asked, as softly as I could.

"Everything, suddenly, all at once, and then nothing. I feel good just holding you, but.. "


"But I don't know if I dare, if you want me to, if I, if I.." and he tailed off, and I thought he was going to cry again, then, "But you kissed me, you kissed my cheek"

"And tasted your tears, and I'm holding you now, and it feels special."

"I wish. No."

"What do you wish?"

"I wish I could be Paul for you"

"I don't think I want you to be. Paul's not really there except in my head. I think I'd like you to be Ben. I like Ben."

"I had my own Paul, too." And he felt soft, suddenly. "He was older than me, but I worshipped the air he breathed out"

"And he never knew you existed?"


"I know you exist, Ben. I know you exist." And I dared to move, and I brushed, just brushed his lips with mine, barely brushed them, almost a butterfly's wingtip.

"Do you mean what you're doing?"

"I think so, I, er, I'm not sure, but I don't want not to. I'm a bit afraid, but I feel so close to you." And I kissed him more firmly - it was almost to strengthen my resolve. And suddenly, greedily, I found his tongue wrapped round mine, fighting, searching, probing, wet and dry at the same time, and our teeth hit and his hands moved up and down my back, and mine up his, and he put his hand on my knee. Electricity. Ecstasy.

"Jim?" We'd broken apart for a moment. "Jim?"


"I want you. I think I fell for you when you picked me up in the ferry, but I didn't know it for sure. I didn't dare hope, didn't dare, then I saw the way you looked at those two cute boys, and I just dared a little bit. I think I've fallen in love with you, Jim."

Oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh. He loves me. Oh. Lights flashed on and off in my brain. Ben loves me. I'm loved. Oh. But I don't know how to make love to him, what I want to do. "Ben, I don't know how. I've never.. "

"Nor have I, but I want to learn with you" And he move his hands inside my thighs, and slid them up between my legs and kissed me violently and eased the waistband of my briefs out, over my cock, straining upwards an d outwards, and lowered them to the floor, and took that awkward sock off, too, in one flowing sensual movement. And I was naked in front of him. And he kissed my feet, first the left, then the right, and moved up my right leg to the knee, and down my left from the knee, and his hands were at the back of my calves as he kissed each thigh, left, right, left, right, like windscreen wipers, as he moved upwards towards, no past my cock, and up to my navel, which he kissed, and then licked my chest, all over. And as he stood, I felt that he had somehow lost his boxers, and was there, naked, in front of me, standing there cocks almost locked together, pressing us apart, yet tingly, all over.

So I started the reverse journey for him, down his chest, to his navel, and did something I've always never dared think about doing. I kissed the very tip of his cock, just the tip, and heard him sign, and move just a little towards my mouth. So, with my lips tight, I moved my mouth onto his cock, using my lips to withdraw his foreskin, and my tongue to taste him, to run it round the rim of his cock, and to feel the power in him as it was there, strong in my mouth, and to feel the curve of each buttock as I held it in my hands and kneaded each like bread dough.

Neither of us knew what to do, and neither of us wanted to let go. "Come to the bed," he gasped. "Lie down facing me, and put your cock between my legs, and mine between yours."

"I don't know about having you inside me?" I murmured, worried about pain, and dirt and stuff.

"Don't worry, just clamp your legs, and I'll clamp mine." "OK, now moved in and out"

And we were lying face to face, cocks clamped, the tip of each between the top of our thighs, just moving back and forwards, rubbing the sensitive tip, at least of mine, against the hairs growing there. We were so gentle, so soft, so slow, I thought I would die with anticipation. He showed me how to fuck, and not fuck at the same time. "I'm going to cum" I said, urgently, and pulled out.

"Why have you stopped?"

"I don't know - I guess I've never cum with anyone looking before."

Without a word, he took my cock in his mouth, and licked it all round, working it with his mouth, licking, kissing, sucking, and holding my bum so I couldn't move away. "I'm going to cum!" I almost shouted, and tried to pull away, but he held me tight and licked and sucked harder. I couldn't keep it back, and came into his mouth. Into his mouth!. "But..."

"I wanted to." Ben said simply. "I wanted to taste you, to have all of you. I love you, Jim. Nothing about you disgusts me, I want all of you." And he convinced me, and I took him into my mouth as soon as I had go my breathing under control, and slowly, then suddenly felt him tense, then his cock almost swelled in my mouth and he arched his back, and my mouth filled with jet after jet of Ben. It was good! Bitter, salt, sweet, and Ben! My Ben. My Ben.

And he kissed me on the lips, and held me, and we slept for a while.

When I woke, the early sun was just coming in through the windows, and I looked at him. Ben. Not Paul, who was gone, but Ben. And I knew we had at least the whole summer long to learn about each other. And I looked at Ben and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"I love you," I whispered. "I love you."