This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are young teenagers, nothing written here should be taken as approval of 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 know 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 http://gay.sexhound.net/iomfats/ present, and also the email address of firstname.lastname@example.org. I'd love to receive feedback.
I wasn't sure I could cope any more. I had set off on our school trip to France with a girlfriend, and now I had a lover - a beautiful lover, who loved me and wanted me for ever. It was scary. Last night I had made love, real love, for the first time. Last night I had someone else's skin, soft and smooth against my own skin. Last night I had been given, yes given, my first ever orgasm, by another living, loving human being. And my lover, who gave me this wonderful, all consuming experience? What of my lover?
Spun silver hair, shot with gold, deep bright blue eyes, strong, powerful, beguiling, beautiful, hypnotic. My seducer. What of him? Later, I think, because the day took over.
We were sitting at breakfast, Nigel and I, and we still hadn't solved the problem of what to do about Carol. Before we came to the dining hall, we had decided to try to act as though it was `business as usual'.
"Chris," he said, making a decision, "When we are out today, and it's a free day on the beach; when we are out today, you need to be with Carol as usual. You need to do all the things you always do. There's only one difference in your life, and that's that we're lovers," he paused, uncertainly, "if you still want to be, that is."
If I still wanted to be? "How could I not want to be?"
"In that case, go and kiss Carol 'good morning'!"
"Pretend that she's me, then." Nigel laughed, and I caught his mood, though it felt strange - almost like being unfaithful.
Carol was sitting with her room-mate, I forget her name, a mousy kind of girl, getting really fed up with the flavour of the French milk. "This stuff is revolting!" grimace of disgust. God, she was pretty, as good looking as Nigel, and I'd never really noticed before. "I've just poured this muck all over my corn flakes, and they're inedible. It's GROSS!"
I kissed her cheek. Well, you can't snog in a dining hall, can you? "It's the beach today," I said, mirroring Nigel's mood completely. "Why don't we hang out together, and just muck about?"
"Sounds good. Why's your room mate staring at us?"
Gulp. Nigel's staring at us. Nigel and I are lovers. I've always wanted to make love to Carol. I'm starting to go bright red. Gulp. Throat's gone dry. I choked. Quick, grab glass of milk, drink, swallow. "YUK!! This stuff is truly revolting! I think I'm going to barf!"
"Saves me from drinking it, Good old Chris, always thinking of me! But you haven't answered my question."
"I'm not really sure, except that I think Nigel would like to join us. He's never been one of my close mates, but seeing that we're sharing a room... Well, you know." Lame, well it sounded lame to me, and I was clutching at straws for my sanity. Last night I'd been seduced by a beautiful boy, and had made love to him, there, in our room, and been perfectly at ease. This morning, I was a gibbering idiot, talking to my girlfriend of the past two years, a girl I knew now that I also loved, and just hadn't recognised it, under the gaze of the boy who loved me. And I loved him, too. Help! this just isn't happening. I'm going to wake up soon and find I'm at home, in bed, with a fever.
But fevers finish. Fever dreams just go round in circles, and are uniformly bad. This dream was difficult, all right, but it wasn't bad. It was forbidden, but it wasn't bad.
"OK by me," she laughed, "but he buys the ice cream!"
"See you after breakfast, then"
I went back to sit with Nigel, to finish my own breakfast. "You were staring." Point blank. get off the fence, say what you mean.
"Haven't you ever noticed me staring at you before?"
"Don't think so"
"The first time I set eyes on you, the very first time, I thought you were lovely. I was so in awe of you, and I've stared ever since"
"In awe of me? You're the school hero, the sportsman. What on earth could you be in awe of me for?"
"Because you are calm, quiet, beautiful, and everything I've ever wanted, and I just knew it then."
"But nothing. I never talked to you because I couldn't talk to you. I never hung out with you because there was always Carol, and she's beautiful, too. I just worshipped you."
"So this stuff about kissing....?"
"Wasn't a lie. I have never kissed a girl. I've imagined kissing you, though."
"How about guys?"
"No, no guys. Not before you. No-one. I've felt so lonely. There was no-one"
This conversation was dangerous. We were in the dining hall, dammit, and that isn't a private place, and you don't talk about loving your room mate in the dining hall, because your room mate is a boy! Oh Good Grief!
"Come on, Nigel, let's go and get ready to go out"
We headed back to the room. We had some swim gear to pick up, sun cream, towels, frisbee, tennis balls, football, shades, you know, all the stuff you take with you and never use. At least no Mum and Dad to carry the windbreak, beach umbrella, picnic set and all that other rubbish they insist on taking on outings with them.
"Right," I said. "This is the deal. You are joining me, Carol, and any of her mates that she wants to bring along."
"No buts. We are just mates today. Tonight is later, and I'm already sweating thinking about you, but tonight is later. Oh yea, Carol say's that you buy the ice cream"
"We muck about, and do all the things we came here to do." He stroked my cock through my jeans. "Not that. Well not that, yet. I mean muck about like the kids we were yesterday, on the beach, not like the lovers we are today."
"It'll be hard," he said, softly.
I couldn't cope with the pun, and just fell about laughing. And so did Nigel, my beautiful seducer, and I loved him.
We pulled ourselves together. No, that isn't what I meant, don't get ahead of me! Then Nigel started to take his clothes off.
"What are you doing?" my cock leaping to attention at the thought of Nigel, naked.
"Putting my speedos on, idiot"
And I watched him change. It was as though I'd never seen a boy take his clothes off ever before. As he took his tee-shirt off, it rumpled his hair, and it fell back, lightly, across his forehead. His eyes smiled at me, and his mouth beckoned, but I held still, and watched him. His naked chest, by no means a man's, but not a boy's chest either, was proud, with square shoulders, dark pink nipples, and was bronzed, from last year's sun, even now. His stomach was flat, with a hint of a six pack - nothing too `showy', just firm and muscled, and his navel was the cutest little navel you ever saw.
The he undid the waistband of his jeans, and let them fall, and stepped out of them, one leg after the other. His legs were long, slim, and muscled. Not those sprinter's thighs, but an athlete's legs nonetheless. Long, sculpted, but not prominent muscles, with a smoothness that was almost feminine, long legs, down to white tennis socks. How did he manage to have bright white jockey shorts? Mine were getting grey. He eased the shorts down, showing the briefest white area where the sun had never been allowed, almost luminous against the gold.
Oh. Oh. That was what I had wanted to kiss last night.
At the join of his thighs, with just the slightest start of a triangle of light hair above it, almost a mist of hair, was the most beautiful cock I had ever seen, and it wasn't hard! It was about half way to manhood. Just slightly darker than his belly skin, and not as dark as the remains of his tan, with such a smooth, velvety skin that it almost demanded to be touched. It hung almost shyly down between his wonderful thighs, completely covered with that velvet skin, uncut, with the foreskin closing neatly over the tip, making a sort of 'pen nib' shape. Now I understood the Italian pasta called 'penne'! It was moist at the tip, and the whole, beautiful cock swelled towards the tip. I could see the head showing its shape through the skin, and I wanted to kiss it, and somehow get my tongue between the foreskin and the head. Awesome.
And then I discovered I wasn't breathing, and let my breath out in a rush, and gasped for air. And Nigel was looking at me in amazement. "What are you doing?" giggle, "You have to remember to breathe, because I want you alive tonight"
"I want you now"
"No time, we must go down to sign up for the beach, or they'll come looking for us. I really don't want to be found with your cock somewhere they will think it shouldn't be!"
So we went down to the notice board, me with a growing stickiness leaking from my undiminished lust, and Nigel with a skip in his step, teasing me on the way. And we signed up, and joined up with Carol.
Carol, who hadn't brought anyone else with her. Carol, who was my girlfriend. Carol, who was expecting me to kiss her when we could find some privacy. Carol, the girl I loved and Nigel, the boy I loved. And I was scared. But I don't know what I was scared of.
"Carol, you do know Nigel, don't you?"
"Sure," she said, winking at him [winking? What was going on here? I'm not paranoid, honestly!], "we know each other." And she took my hand in her right hand, gave her bag to me to carry, and took Nigel's hand in her left hand, and we went to the beach. Three kids running, laughing and having fun. Except two of us weren't kids anymore.
It seemed to me to be going to be a difficult day. I was scared that I'd let Carol know how I felt about Nigel. I was scared that I'd let Nigel know what I felt about Carol. I was scared that Nigel would let Carol know what he felt about me, and I had no idea what Carol felt about me. Oh HELP ME!
Brazen it out. Nigel had said 'business as usual' or something like it, so I decided. Treat Nigel like a mate; treat Carol like my girlfriend; don't cut Nigel out; don't make an exhibition of myself. But how? That sort of stuff is for adults.
Suddenly it didn't matter. Rely on Nigel, I thought. He'd dragged Carol onto her feet, and down the beach and into the sea. I was left behind - the only one who hadn't changed. So I changed. Not speedos for me. I had those long beach swim shorts. Joe Cool, I didn't even know what they were called. My Mum had got them for me in one of those bargain stores, and they didn't seem very sexy to me, suddenly.
I ran down the beach, not going to be left behind, all sorts of wild, insane ideas going through my head. I mean, a teenager, with a sudden and huge sex drive, suddenly finding that the cure for relentless masturbation was to have a lover, and a beautiful one! Oh Wow, and my fantasy muscle was just starting to go into overdrive, when breathing suddenly became impossible.
Well, have you ever tried to breathe when your head is under the surface of the sea, and has been put there rather suddenly? It doesn't work. Mind you, it was probably what I needed - a bit like a cold shower! Spluttering, indignant, I got up and saw them both, Nigel and Carol, laughing at me - at me! This couldn't go on. I charged towards Carol, dived for her legs, brought her crashing down, and was pounced on by Nigel. It wasn't exactly deep water, and we were wrestling, all three in knee deep wavelets - I think we sent more ripples across the Mediterranean to North Africa than came from there to us! It was wonderful. Exhausting, but wonderful. Hands, legs, faces everywhere, and no-one caring. It was almost like being 10 years old again, with all the complete innocence, all the play. Three puppies romping in the sea.
We had the frisbee with us, and threw it each to the other. We splashed, ran, chased. We wrestled. I'll tell you something, girls are at least as good at wrestling as boys! At least, Carol was! And she could outrun me, and nearly outrun Nigel. And I looked from one to the other, and found little to choose between them in beauty - the girl I had known as a friend for two years, and the boy as a lover for almost 2 days, and I couldn't get my thoughts straight about one or other or both. She with her long gold hair, he with his so pale and bright that it was silver shot with gold. Both with their beautiful blue eyes - I have an absolute passion for blue eyes - both with their brief swimming costumes on, he with his tan, and she pale and barely covered with a wholly too small bikini.
"What are you staring at?" called Carol "The last one to the towels is a cissy!"
So we ran up the beach. I nearly made it not to be last, but you guessed the order! "OK, Cissy," Nigel, giving orders, "since you are the last one here, you get to run sun cream on our backs!"
What was in this boy's mind? How could I possibly rub sun cream on his back? I could rub a girl's back in public, but surely not a boy's?
"Go on," Carol now, "you won the right to do a forfeit, so you can do both of us."
This is weird, I thought. Two days ago Carol removes my hands from the places I would at least be near today, and now she asks me to rub cream in. I was going to make the most of this! And of rubbing the cream into Nigel. It was timing. That was the trick. If I started with Carol, any obvious excitement when rubbing cream into Nigel could be blamed on her. So I got to work. It was like being an artist with a blank canvass. And Nigel, my lover? He had suggested it, so he could watch to start with.
I remembered how hypnotic his hands had been last night. How the started at my neck, and moved gently downwards, circling, stroking, almost tickling but not quite, and I repeated those movements for Carol. Daring a little more, though. Since she was lying on her front, I undid her bikini clasp, and stroked her whole back, all the way, round her shoulders, down her spine, round her sides, down to the top of those very brief bikini bottoms, so brief that the cleft between her cheeks was there, and sensitive. For good measure, I went from her feet, up her calves, up her thighs to the bikini, and, hardly breathing around each leg, so gently, so smoothly, remembering Nigel's hypnotic hands, and hearing her breathing get shallower and shorter as I did so. So gently. And I thought "why not?" and kissed her, each side of that cleft, softly, daringly, and wasn't turned away. Wasn't actively encouraged either, but my libido sprang into life, not entombed by the swim shorts in the same way that speedos close you in.
And then I turned to Nigel, lying there next to Carol, head raised on his hand, propped on his elbow, looking at us. The expression on his face? Not jealous, but smiling with a glint in the corner of his eye. And I returned his caresses of last night, moving so gently down his back, anointing my lover, my seducer with sun cream as though it were the most precious ointment, and running my finger under the top edge of his speedos, and then on his legs, up his calves, feeling the muscles move gently under my fingers, up his smooth, golden thighs, up and round the legs of his trunks, and gently, secretly slightly under the leg of the cloth, hinting at what I wanted most of all. And wondering how it could happen here.
And, of course, it couldn't, but I had to lie face down, too, between them, because I was sooo excited that I was nearly cumming just from thinking about it, and I had to conceal my fourteen year old excitement from well from both of them. And then I felt sun cream on my back, too. I wasn't going to look up, not for anything in this world did I want to see whose hands they were.
Light massaging, so light and gentle, so like tickling, but not, so like last night the hands moved lower down my spine, and massaged the cream in down my back, down my sides. Then they started at my feet, and moved upwards towards the long legs on the shorts. Damn those shorts, too long. Then back to the neck, then back to the legs. Then the neck then legs, then !? legs and neck together !!??? There were too many hands!
Two longer giggles.
I rolled over, almost squashing Nigel, to see him and Carol, both with sun cream on their hands, laughing at me, and at each other. They looked as though they had just been plotting something; but that couldn't be true, surely? Overactive imagination, that's what my Mum had always said about me. Overactive imagination. "What's going on?" laughing, just in case I was the joke.
"Well, Chris," giggled Carol, "you did such a great job with my back and Nigel's back, and both our legs, that we wanted to return the favour. Trouble was, we got our timing wrong, so you found out too early that we'd both been rubbing you down."
"Whoever it was," (Nigel, barely able to talk for spluttering), "whoever it was, you seemed to enjoy it!" And he looked down at my shorts and the tent they were making over my cock.
"That has a mind of its own." I made a definite statement, but I was a bit embarrassed about it. "Let's go into the sea again, lunch must be soon."
And so we passed the morning. I wasn't too sure what was going on with the other two. Come to that I wasn't too sure what was going on in my own head. I mean, look back at the last couple of days. The first night I had been `persuaded', not that it seems to have taken much persuasion, into giving Nigel lessons in kissing. The next night, last night, Nigel had taught me something I had never in my wildest dreams known I wanted to learn. He had seduced me, and simply given himself to me. There hadn't even been any question of his wanting anything from me, he just gave me the most precious gift he could, and it came with love. Now I was mucking about on a warm French beach with two beautiful friends, both of whom hadn't known each other before, and both of whom, to my overactive imagination at least, seemed to be teasing me, and trying in their own ways to seduce me again. This is what wet dreams are made of!
But nothing else happened, at lunch, or during the afternoon. Oh, except that we did much the same in the afternoon as we had done in the morning. And I spent the whole afternoon trying so hard not to get aroused, not to kiss Nigel, and to kiss Carol as normal. Oh, heck `as normal' sounds awful. Actually, it was better than normal. There, on the beach, just as Nigel had suggested earlier, I took Carol in my arms, there, lying on towels on the warm sand, and kissed her so passionately I felt that either of us might burst. Now I still had that old `forbidden body areas' problem, so I stuck to the safe bits - the back, the neck, the head. And I dared to go lower, and to place a hand gently on her bum. And she left it there. And I wasn't pretending that I was kissing Nigel, and I knew it was Carol, and it felt good - different from Nigel, softer, more yielding, more more curvy, if you see what I mean, but not, definitely not better.
Some time during the afternoon, I must have fallen asleep on the beach. All that fresh air, all that emotional high had made me so tired, that I dozed off. It was really lucky that the afternoon had clouded over a little - still warm, but not burning sun. I think that and factor 18 sun cream saved me from turning lobster red. I have a very fair skin. I tan OK, but it takes a while, and I always have to be very careful not to burn. Boy would that have wrecked the rest of the week! I woke to a whisper "Wait until tonight" and lips just brushing my ear.
After supper, we mucked about until bedtime. Table football, table tennis, pool. You know the kind of thing. A desperately jolly teacher who would have been better suited to eight year olds organised us into groups, and I couldn't wait until it was time to go to our rooms for the night. At last it was 10 o'clock. I never looked forward to bedtime before. Never.
Nigel was nowhere to be seen, so I washed, and headed back from the washroom to our room. Very strange, still no Nigel. I got undressed, thought about staying naked to surprise him, thought better of it, and put on my pyjamas. As I sat on the edge of the duvet on my bed, the whole bed exploded, and I mean exploded. Duvet over my head, a shriek, and everything went dark with a heavy weight on all the crumpled bits of me that were now under the duvet. Then a giggle. I'll admit it. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the bed exploded. It took me a few moments to get my sense of humour back, and my breath! Then I fought my way out of the duvet.
In a giggling heap of duvet, helpless with laughter, curled up with laughter, there he was, hair all ruffled, eyes and mouth laughing at me. "Wait until tonight," he laughed.
The quickest way of stopping him from laughing was the best. I'd been waiting all day to do it. All day. And as I touched his lips with mine, as the tip of my tongue brushed his lips, as it touched his tongue, he stopped laughing, and grabbed me in the fiercest, strongest embrace I had ever had, and kissed me back furiously, greedily, passionately. He took my breath away. And we heard the door handle turn ..
Have you ever seen a scalded cat? Nor have I, but I reckon we did a pretty good imitation of a pair of them just then - leapt apart at about 400 miles an hour. Staff patrol.
"Are you boys all right?" Miss Coker was a weird sight. Hair piled up in an eccentric bun, ill fitting cardigan, clearly destined always to be `Miss' Coker. "I heard a yell. There's to be no messing about after lights out. Any more, and I separate you two."
"Yes, Miss Coker, Sorry Miss Coker" chorused two very perturbed boys, thankfully still fully pyjamaed.
"Hmm, so I should think. Chris, put that duvet back on your bed, and both of you go to bed. Not another sound, or I'll be back!"
Have you ever read Roald Dahl's books? She almost felt like Miss Trunchbull at that point. Normally we liked her, but tonight!
"That was a close thing. I've only just found you, Chris, I'd hate to be separated from you, even for a few days."
"Shut up and kiss me again."
And he did. And this time he undressed me. Slowly, carefully, sensuously, he eased my pyjamas almost reverently from my body. Softly, he kissed my chest, sucking, no sipping, each nipple, running a dry tongue down to my navel, blowing softly on my cock, kissing the creases at the top of each thigh, just beside it, and running his hands down my back. "I love your body, Chris. I love every inch of it, especially these few inches just here."
All day, I'd been planning what I would say to him. And all the words ran straight out of my head. "Nigel?"
"Last night you did something very special for me"
"I want to do something for you, but I don't know how."
"Sorry, I was carried away."
"I love you, Nigel. I want to spend the night making love to you, and I don't know how."
"You did pretty well last night."
"Idiot, that was all you."
"I think we used a little bit of you, too, you know. I seem to remember that it felt huge. Hot and huge. I'd been waiting for so long, and I was afraid suddenly that I couldn't give you what I wanted to give you most in the whole world. It seemed so big, but it felt wonderful"
"I'm scared, a bit, but I think I want to do that for you. Whatever we do, I'm going to make you cum tonight"
"I was so close last night, but I didn't want to, didn't dare cum all over your chest. I thought it would gross you out. I was terrified of frightening you."
This beautiful boy was holding me close, stroking my hair, and looking straight into my eyes. God he smelled good. "I was scared, but I think I was scared of me, not you. I'm not now, except that your face last night - it looked as though it hurt."
"A little, at first, until I relaxed, then it was wonderful. I never knew I had nerves like that in there," he whispered, softly..
"Kiss me again. I'll show you."
And he kissed me, and I saw those stars flash and go out again, and I fell into his eyes, and was sucked into his soul. And I felt his hands start to run over my body again, and down my body, and onto my cock, straining. Excited cock, and gently moving my foreskin off and over the head with one hand and parting my legs with the other. And massaging the bas of my cock, between the ballsack and the anus, and moving one hand down that part, and the other still gently caressing the skin and head. And then a finger, softly, gently moving towards my anus. I flinched. It was automatic.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Sorry," I mumbled. "Never been touched there before. Don't stop."
And he moved his head lower and kissed my cock, and moved down the shaft, and mixed precum with his kiss, and placed on my anus. "Relax." I relaxed, and felt the oddest sensation, as his finger eased oh so slowly into that double muscled ring. Hot, was my first thought. And he pulled out, and put more precum onto it, and eased it back, gently, gently, never pushing, always slowly, always just a little further. "Open your legs a little more." And his mouth was on my cock again, and his finger was so far inside me it hit that most peculiar place, the place he had found himself last night with my cock. And he was rewarded with a hard thrust of my cock into his mouth.
"Aaahhh!" Well I couldn't get my words focussed. It's pretty hard to use real words the first time someone massages your prostate!
And he massaged it, first with one finger, then with two, all the while sucking my cock gently, so gently.
"I'm going to cum. STOP!"
"I want you to cum"
"You may, but I want to make you cum first. Will you try to fuck me?"
"Are you sure?"
"No, but I want to try. Please?"
"Kiss my cock first," he said. So I did. I kissed his cock. I kissed the tip, where the foreskin closed over it. I licked the whole length, and I put my tongue at the tip, and slowly peeled back the skin, licking the head, tasting my lover for the first time - salty, but lovely - and placing my tongue against the head, rolled the skin back over it so that it was like the filling in a cock sandwich. And when it was wet enough I told him I was ready.
"Lie on your back," he said. "Lie on your back, with your legs wide and high." And he placed the tip of his cock against my crack, and I shivered. "Relax - it will seem huge"
And I felt the largest thing I have ever felt pushing, pushing against me, so big I thought it must be his fist. And then pain - a burning pain. "Uhh!".
"Sorry" he paused, "Relax and tell me when"
And the pain started to go, and I felt the tip of his cock instead of the pain, and the warmth of his cock, and saw the love in his eyes, and relaxed. "Try now."
It was easy, suddenly, and I felt full, so full, of Nigel, and of love, and I just wanted him to thrust into me wildly, strongly, so hard. And that special place - every time he hit it I almost came, and precum splashed wildly out of the tip of my cock, all over my belly, and Nigel rubbed it into my skin. And I watched his face, and his thighs, and watched his hand take my cock by the shaft, and the other grab me behind the balls, and grip, and his face as his rhythm took hold. I watched my lover, felt my lover tense, felt him hold onto my cock so hard, so tight, felt him lose rhythm, felt him, saw him cum, heard him whimper like a puppy, and felt his seed, his young seed flood into me, deep into me, and knew I was his for ever. And suddenly I came, hitting my face with the force of it, spraying my chest, and I thought it would never end, and I never wanted it to end. I would have died happy then and there.
And like last night, we wept, and this time I held him, and, his cock still inside me for a while at least, we slept, all tears and cum and love.
It was getting light when I woke. I looked at Nigel, still sleeping, sleeping. As he slept, his beauty was even more. His eyelashes, light, light brown, his nose, just perfect, and his hair, his beautiful hair. There wasn't, isn't a colour to describe it. And his breathing, so quiet. I sat up and spent ages just looking at him. He was perfect. He was just two wings short of being and angel. It was almost as though he had been carved from pure, golden cream.
I snuggled down beside him again, but my mind was racing, and I couldn't sleep. "I'm not gay," I muttered to myself. "I'm not. I'm just not gay." But a little voice kept saying `you are, you know, if you admit it.' And I started to sob.
"Chris!" more urgent
"I love you, Chris"
"I'm (sob) not (sob) gay! (sob!)"
"I don't think I am either, Chris."
"(sob) Then what, how, why???"
"I just love you, Chris. Not boys, just you. I like girls, too, but I love you"
And later, I may tell you more.