This story contains material of a sexual nature and should not be viewed my anyone under legal age. Furthermore, that sexual material involves two males in acts of gay sex. If this offends you in any way, shape, or form, please do not continue.
All character names are made up and hold no basis to real people, living or dead. Any similarities are purely coincidental. Establishments and cities may possess original or fictional names since this is based loosely on a true tale.
I hold all copyright laws. This document or the documents preceding can be dispersed freely as long as this disclaimer and credits to the author are included with it.
This story contains sexual thoughts and actions among consenting
male high school students under 18. All of the sex in this story
is between consenting males. One or more of the scenes may
involve sex on school property, which, in real life, is illegal in
most states, and the author specifically urges all readers NOT TO
TRY THIS IN ANY WAY OR DO ANYTHING SEXUAL ON PUBLIC PROPERTY. Sex acts should be in complete privacy on your own private property.
I will not be held responsible for any damages resulting from the reading
of this or its preceding documents. Please, act responsibly.
I physically felt two things in the next two seconds. Number one would be a rustling beside me. The second would be his sweet lips upon mine. I was shocked. I had my suspicions, recently more than ever. But this. This was not like him. It didn't take me long to respond to it. However, it wasn't the response that I intended.
He caught me by surprise and I pushed him away. He took it to heart. He sat bolt upright and started to extricate himself from the sleeping bag. Not an easy task when in a hurry. "I'm sorry, I just though. Oh, God, what have I…" I truly felt sorry for him when he started to cry.
I unzipped my sleeping bag enough to reach him. He was nearly out when I yanked him down and I lay half on top and half off. "Shh." With that I kissed him. It wasn't a long one, just one to say that your feelings are reciprocated.
"Huh?" he questioned.
"I love you Noah."
"You caught me by surprise, it was a reflex."
"Oh." He was silent. I was mere inches from his face. Again he started to cry. I reached up and kissed them away.
"Shh, it's ok." He smiled at my comment.
"I know, I'm just happy." I smiled too. Then, I bent down for another kiss on his sweet lips, and another, and another. I kissed the flesh of his neck, then rolled over into my sleeping bag.
"Does this mean that we are an item?"
"I'd like that, sure."
He pulled closer and snuggled up next to me. We spooned each other with the sleeping bags to separate us. "I'd like that too."
It is hard to describe the feeling of having someone next to you, other than good. I can only imagine what it is like to have him next to me without any walls. My hand around his chest, chest to back. God it must feel great. With that lingering thought, I fell asleep.
The next morning we still retained our positions, me behind him. We woke at the crack of dawn. Today, we would make camp, permanently. We had pancakes from breakfast. Not with syrup and butter. With peanut butter. It was actually pretty good, surprisingly.
We quickly tossed our stuff in the canoe and shoved off. We paddled down a small river and entered Basswood Lake. This was the last of the titans. Then we move into the weekdays.
Noah again pulled off his shirt about 10:00 in the sun. I know why he did it too. He knew what it would do to me. I did the same, but it wouldn't have the same affect since he was facing the opposite direction.
The lake was peaceful and quiet. Against my better judgment, the Anderson's decided to catch dinner early. We pulled out the fishing rods, and the worms that were stowed away without my knowledge.
We didn't fish long. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson continually yelled us for disrupting the fish. Even so we caught three. It will have to do. We hooked them then dragged them to Brook's parents' canoe.
I spent most of the day is silent contemplation. `I had a boyfriend,' was a phrase that I said to myself over and over again. That fact completely shocked my system. I felt great.
`What were the implications though. Ostracized, humiliated. These were all possibilities. All of which I didn't like. I couldn't imagine what it was like to be called a fag wherever I go. It would hurt and I would not be able to function. No matter how much it hurt we cannot display our affection publicly.'
The lake eventually came to a point when it cascaded into another falls. This one was about two feet long and had a drop of like a foot and a half. Even so, there was a path, so we took it. I flipped the boat up onto my shoulders and set off. Noah was right behind me. The path was short, about twenty yards or so.
Like every other time, I plunged my canoe into the lake. This time it was different. We were on a different turf now. We have officially exited the country. You see, the BWCA is in both Canada and the United States. As I set my canoe into Monday Bay we entered the Canada side. This side's rules are a lot stricter in some aspects but they do have one advantage. No designated toilet areas. I guess it would be fair to mention that last nights camp was illegal. With the toilet sites come campsites. Well on this side, you can pee, poop, and sleep wherever you want.
As we shoved off the wind picked up a bit and the waves became choppy. This made things a little difficult. The inlet to the next bay, Tuesday Bay, was a straight shot across Monday Bay.
"We have two options," Mr. Anderson called out. "One, take a detour around the shore of the lake. Or two, straight through. This will mean that we will have to rough out the waves."
This statement was echoed by a number of "Two"'s.
Simpler said than done. We were instructed to rock with the waves. This was to keep from falling in. `Great,' was my first thought. The lake looked to be a mile across.
"Are there going to be anymore portages?" I asked.
"No!!" Mr. Anderson called back.
"Noah," I said softly.
He got a wide grin on his face. It was priceless. "Yes, sir," he saluted. With that, he turned and dug his paddle deep into the water. I did the same.
The waves were worse than we expected and our pace slowed, but still we blew the others right out of the water. When we reached about the middle of the lake my arms were tired. "Switch!!" I casually tossed the paddle between hands and started again. Giving my well used arm a rest. The waves were tossing us about, but I kept the boat pointed in the right direction mostly. We had to shift our weight from left to right all the time so we didn't loose the balance in the boat.
We coasted into the inlet which led to the next bay, where we stopped and rested. The boat came to complete stop in the calm water. With small strokes I turned our canoe lengthwise so we could see our oncoming companions. Which after, what seemed like an hour, came up along side us.
"Finally!" I yelled.
"That was uncalled for," Mr. Anderson said.
"Yea, but a lot of fun."
"Argg, come on, lets go." He sounded just a bit pissed to me.
We paddled though two other bays that took on the same properties. Waves, high and mighty. It was little fun, but at the same time, a lot of fun. Three canoes passed into the canal that separates Wednesday and Thursday bay. Here is where we found home.
We pulled the canoes to a stop about ten yards from a small island. The island was spectacular, in that it had everything. There was a peninsula, a small one, which jutted out almost twenty feet from the mainland. The mainland was covered with trees except for the area closest to us, which had a flat grass spot, perfect for tents. It had rocky flat space for everything else including a campfire. It was perfect.
"Should we live here?" Mrs. Anderson asked us.
"Yea," I said. Everyone else agreed.
The canoes crashed upon the shore with many a cheer from all of us.