"What are our parents going to say when we tell them we've been with nudists all the afternoon?"

"Dunno. They're nice, aren't they?"

"Yes. Good fun."

"You were funny covered with sand."

"You were funny when you got out of your depth. It's the same way of swimming, you know."

"Yeah? Well, it feels different."

It was cooler on the water, to my relief. Clothes felt hot and itchy after a day without, and I wished we could all be as sensible as they were and go without all the time. Except for my aunt. She was too fat, and I'm sure without clothes she'd be even fatter. She'd probably spill out, like a badly set jelly. The idea was so awful I spluttered into laughter.


I explained to him.

"Do people do that?" he asked wide-eyed.

"Shouldn't think so. It'd be too messy. What would happen in swimming pools?"

He started giggling at that, and before long we were both helpless. The boat swung off course -- he was in charge, and before I'd got my senses back and could see we'd gone round from a long reach to bring the wind aft, all without wanting to. I cottoned on before it happened.

"Head DOWN!!!"

A slight delay, then he ducked. The boom crashed over in a gybe and we heeled well over. I snatched both tiller and sheet from him and, despite being on the wrong side of the boat managed to adjust our course until we were on an even keel again.

"What happened?" he asked, sounding scared.

"A gybe. When she swung round without us noticing it brought the aft edge of the sail to the wind, and that blew it across. Do that with a strong wind and you'll bust the mast."

"Oh. Sorry."

"S'all right. I should have been watching instead of laughing at jelly."

And that set us both off again, but not so out of control.

I took over properly, and the rest of the voyage was uneventful. To my surprise my parents were waiting at the hard where we moored.

"What on earth went on out there? Where you gybed?" My father was anxious.

"Oh, nothing really. James was sailing and we were laughing at something, and before we knew it we'd gone off course."

"Martin, the trouble is that it's just that sort of thing that we worry about. A moment's lack of attention and, in a strong wind, you could be in real trouble."

"I know Dad, but in a strong wind I'd be sailing myself, not teaching James."

"Certainly you wouldn't. Mr And Mrs Evans wouldn't allow it. And I'm not so sure they'd be happy with him sailing now, even with you there. I hope you haven't let him sail on his own?"

"No, Dad, of course not. He wouldn't be happy on his own yet."

"There's no `yet' about it. At 9 he's not to sail this boat on his own. Sorry James, but it's just not on.

"No, Mrs Finch."

"And I'm surprised at you even thinking about it, Martin. Are you out of your mind?"

"But Mum..."

"No buts. No sailing the boat alone for James. Understood?"

"Yes. I was never going to let him in the first place."

"You say that now...."

"Mum, he's not strong enough to deal with two sails anyway, and I don't want to get him drowned. I'm not stupid."

She just looked at me, as did Dad. I looked back, and was suddenly reminded of the hurt she'd caused me the other day. I think she wilted first. James was a bit uncomfortable about it.

"Anyway, he can sail well. He's learning to tack and can do it. There's a lot I've not taught him, but it's only his first day."

"So long as he doesn't sail without you, that's all."

"Mum! I've already said....."

"All right, that'll do. It's too hot to argue. But we do get worried, you know."

I realised then just how hot it was here, on the waterfront of the village, sheltered by the hill behind. I was sticky with heat and salt, and wanted a cool shower. The last thing I could face at the moment was a discussion about naturists.

"All right," was all I could think of saying as I turned back to the dinghy to tidy up.

"At least you're on time," said my mother.

I turned, suddenly annoyed. "I've only once been late, and even then it was close, and not late. Have you had a bad day?"


"Well, you're so....on at me....I haven't really done anything apart from make a sailing mistake."

There was a pause. "I think we're probably a bit irritated by the heat. It's been so hot here, and you can't really swim off the village. We could have done with a boat, but they were all out with other people."

"Oh. Well, a cool shower will help, I should think. That's what we're going for, isn't it, James?"

He nodded, unsure if it was safe to speak.

We all climbed slowly to the hotel. They were right, it was hot. Hotter than the previous night whose storm we hoped had brought an end to the excessive heat and humidity. Once safely in my room I apologised to James for my parents' outburst.

"'S Ok. Mine do it all the time. Are you going to ask them about tomorrow?"

"I'll have to pick my time, I s'pose. Probably wait 'til it gets cooler."

"Is there going to be another storm?"

"Feels like it. Want to sleep down here?"



We showered, and I was amazed how much browner he'd got in just one day. My shoulders were quite red, and I thought they'd start peeling soon. They felt quite hot, too. The force of the shower hurt.

Dinner was a rather quiet meal. We were all at the stage where we didn't want to eat, yet were hungry. As time progressed it got cooler, and a breeze started to shift the air about, much to everyone's relief. As if people hardly meant it, chat started.

I didn't think that over the meal was a good time to talk about naturists in front of everybody, and neither was coffee. Eventually he whispered to his parents that he'd be sleeping in my room. Mr Evans looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I went over.

"Are you really sure you don't mind? It's just that he hates thunderstorms, and even if there's one forecast at home he gets agitated."

"No, it's OK. I'm so used to him now he's no trouble."

"If he was your age I can see it wouldn't be so bad, but he's a lot younger than you."

"He doesn't take up so much of the bed."

They laughed. "Well, just don't think you've got to, please. We're quite used to having him in ours."

"No, it's fine."

"Goodnight, James."

"See you soon."

I went and told my parents. At least they knew me well enough to know that I'd help like that if someone was in trouble. It wasn't long after that I went up too. I was tired, yes, but there was a yard and half of reasons why I wanted to go to my room.

He was asleep.

I undressed and got in beside him. He never moved. His breath was even. I faced him. I was starting to feel something else apart from protectiveness towards him, and I didn't know what it was. I found myself wanting to breathe in as he breathed out, to share his air as I'd shared everything else these past days. I wanted him in my arms -- to get more space and comfort certainly, but now something else as well. What was happening to me? Was this how fathers felt?

Some time later he turned over and woke me up. His bum was pushing into me, nearly pushing me out of the bed. At the knowledge my errant body stiffened and coincided with his. This wouldn't do; he might wake up and think I was trying something. I disconnected, and all but fell out. I decided on the other technique, put my body against his and gently pushed. No movement -- push harder.

With a distant rumble the storm broke. It took him quite a few of them to wake, in fact when he did it was getting quite close. He found me pushing at his body still, trying to get room enough to sleep.

He gave a whimper, and said indistinctly "" The next lightning flash woke him.


"No, it's Martin."

"Oh....Yes." I was pleased that he immediately snuggled down again, despite the weather.

"Move over, James?"


"Move over. You're pushing me out of bed."

It took at least ten seconds for that to sink in, but a thunderclap woke him again and he dragged himself over. I followed, comfortable at last. As the storm approached he turned again and buried his head against my shoulder. At last I managed to get my arms round him as I had the previous night.

"It's all right....don't worry...nothing nasty's going to happen..."

It was nowhere near as violent as before, and didn't last so long. The air became sweeter as the storm receded, and eventually he drifted off again in my arms. Once again I felt the spiritual completeness of being the guardian of his complete, naked vulnerability.

The nest morning found us lying face to face. I had opened my eyes, and found him looking straight at me from a distance of about 3 inches. My arm had draped itself over his waist, and his over mine.

"Hallo," he said. I blinked at him, feeling suddenly ridiculously happy. I really must be more than `the boy in the room downstairs' to him. Oh, I knew we'd been through a lot together in a short time, but why did he look at me like a little puppy at its master, as if he'd hang on to every word I'd say. That's not a complaint, I felt it a real compliment; one of the deepest I'd ever been paid.

"I'm glad you're my best friend."

Well, what would you have done? I could either cry with frustrated happiness or hug him close to me, bringing his entire body in contact with mine. Yes, willies as well.

We untangled eventually. He gave me that most dazzling, unzipped smile of his. I smiled back, heart beating fast and now fully and shamelessly stiff.

"You've got a stiffie again. I could feel it."

"Well, I'm not used to being so close to someone."

"Is that what does it?"

"Yeah, that and a few other things."


"Oh, touching it, thinking about things, and sometimes it does it on its own."


"Dunno. Doesn't yours?"


"Bet it does. Tickle it."

The hand that was round me was withdrawn and vanished under the bedclothes. He squirmed a bit and giggled.

"Nothing's happening."

"You're not doing it properly. Show me."

The sheets went down, leaving us both open to the air. He was right, mine was at full mast. His just lay there, small and dangly on its little pad of potential balls. He put his hand down and carefully stroked the length of it, jerking backwards with the sensation as he did so.

"That's no good. You've got to take it, not jump away from it. And tickle your balls too. Look, like this."

I had intended to do it for him, but when it came to it didn't have the nerve. So my hand went to my own instead, and I traced the line of it down, and put my other hand underneath and traced the skin around my testicles. After all the showers, nude swimming and two nights spent together I had no embarrassment about it at all.

"But you're already stiff."

"Well, you do that to yourself."

"Won't you do it for me?"

I looked at him, amazed. He really wanted me to fondle him?

"Are you sure?"


Trembling now, I reached across. His willy felt so small and soft that I could hardly regard it as one at all. The sac underneath was also soft. I traced my finger around it, then up and down his little thing....but was it so little? Was that an increase in size? I continued.

It took him about 3 minutes to stop wriggling away from my touch as the tickling sensation got to him. He did everything he could to stay put and not jerk away from my hand. At last he quietened and just lay there with this look on his face and....yes.....a little, upstretched erection. It couldn't have been his first ever, but it was probably the first he'd noticed. He looked at me seriously.

"Now I'm just like you."

Not quite, I thought, not quite. What else should I do? My own need was very great, but I couldn't bring myself to go any further with him, he was just too young and vulnerable. I wished then that I could take him home with me and look after him for the next few years while his mind and body developed. But with a sudden stab of the pain to come I knew that he'd be leaving by a different route at the end of the holiday. I never even knew yet where he lived. The thought made my body subside a bit. I removed my hand.

"Don't. It's nice."

"No more. I'm getting up. Lying next to you's made me all hot and sweaty. I need a shower."

"Me too."

"Come on then."

It was in the shower that he tentatively first put his hand on me, watching my face to see what I would do. I must have looked just astonished. It was only a little trace of its length from root to tip, but it was electric for me. I just had to do the same to him, making him giggle and flinch away. I had a point to make, though, and although he was fondling me I just stood and let him do it, so that the difference in our reactions would strike home. Soon he was once again pointing to the ceiling as much as me, and I could tell that doing that was enough for him. I longed for release and to show him how, but how could I? He was only a child.

"Come on, you. Shower!"

And I soaped my hands and washed him. Everywhere. Even there, and between his buttocks. His look at me as I awoke that morning had broken down the last of the barriers between us and I knew that he would take no offence at anything I did, unless it hurt his spirit or mind or body. I wasn't surprised, when it was my turn to be washed, to feel a small hand wriggle its way down my own crack a few times, to soap me everywhere else, and once again to grasp my penis gently and tickle-wash it. By which time I was trembling.

"Right," I said as firmly as I could when we were both clean. "Go and dry yourself and I'll see you at breakfast."

"Can't you dry me? I'll dry you."

"No. I want to soak in the shower a bit. I'll see you downstairs."

"Can't I stay with you?"

"Not now. Please?"

"Have I done something wrong?"

I looked at him stupidly, my mouth open. "What d'you mean, wrong?"

"You've never sent me away before."

I was still just gaping at him. The water trickling down my face entered my mouth and made me cough.

"I....Oh come here." The thought of him imagining he'd been naughty and I was sending him away was too much to accept, especially as it was accompanied by such an anxious, kicked puppy expression. I hugged him, something as inevitable as the night, and he snuggled himself back into my arms.

There was the inevitable knock on the door and we separated and grinned sheepishly at each other.

"Come in," he said as if it was his room. Hurriedly I stepped into the depths of the shower room as the door opened. For his sake I hoped it was one of the sets of parents. It was.

"Hallo darling. I thought I'd check here first as we had the thunderstorm. Did you sleep all right?"

"Mummy....yes, I did. I slept with Martin."

Well if that doesn't make her attack me for making advances to her son I don't know what would.

"Good old Martin....I do hope he doesn't mind. He's a nice boy, isn't he? I don't know what you're going to do when we go home and you won't see him."

A pause. She obviously didn't know I was there. I wasn't about to walk out.

"He can come and visit us?" It was a quiet voice, a question. He'd obviously not been thinking ahead as I had, albeit briefly, to a week's time.

"Perhaps he can, darling. But now hurry and get dressed and come down to breakfast. We're nearly ready and you don't want to miss anything, do you? Martin's probably down there already. I suppose you'll want to go sailing again today?"

"Yes!! And we'll visit our island and meet Billy and Rose and the others."

"Ah yes, these friends you met... Well, I hope their parents don't mind. There do seem to be rather a lot of you all. You will behave yourself, won't you?2

"Oh Mum..."

"All right, dear, all right. Hurry up now or Martin'll go without you."

And she was gone. He bounded back to the shower, grin unzipped.

"She thought you were downstairs!"

My body had slouched its way from standing to attention, and oddly I'd lost the need for release in the usual way. I made a note that I must get the ruler out and check soon.

"Yeah. Well, I'm glad you didn't let on, that's all. I thought she was going to come into the shower and find me standing there naked,"

"She wouldn't have minded."

"I would."


"Would you like it if my parents found you naked in the shower."

"Wouldn't mind. They're your parents."

The logic behind that escaped me at the time, but later I saw just what a compliment it was.

We did dry each other. Fast. And he eventually charged upstairs to dress. I got the ruler out, late or no. No change. There wasn't enough time to try anything else, although the temptation was very great.

We set off for the island as soon as we could decently get away. The air was noticeably fresher this morning, and we were both quite glad of the extra layer that we'd been told to take. Although neither of us would admit it, of course. Although I was in charge at the start and finish of the voyage he did all the sailing between, and was starting to show a real aptitude for sensing the wind's subtle changes. We berthed and dragged the boat up the beach as usual, although she'd always be afloat at the end of her anchor chain by the time we returned. The tide was going out as we arrived and would be on its way back as we left.

It was cool, but for the sake of it we stripped as usual. I left my T-shirt on. He looked at me and did the same. Shorts, shoes and towel in hand we crossed quietly over the island's narrow, low back. There was nobody on the southern beach, to our surprise. We thought they'd be there before us. We looked a bit put out until we realised it was only quite early -- earlier than our arrival the previous day, anyway. I remembered something.

"How's that cut?"

"OK. Doesn't hurt."

"Let me see."

I'd only washed him that morning, but I'd not noticed. Probably too busy looking elsewhere. There was a weal on his leg, a bit red, but closed and not unhealthy looking. He'd live.

To keep warm, and out of bravado, and I think because I liked wallowing, I suggested we go and get muddied up. The rain, we found, had softened things up even more than before, and we both sank to our knees with the first few steps. It was now of a light enough consistency not to be dangerous as we could easily scramble out. So for ages we did nothing but roll around, throwing great gobs of the stuff at each other and laughing hysterically. Tired at last we looked properly at each other and started laughing again. Not only was there no bare skin to be seen on either of us but our hair was thick with it, his bottom looked as though he'd just had a very bad post-digestive experience and even our faces were more or less unrecognisable.

But we were warm. In fact we were hot. The sun was strengthening and we'd not noticed. The other thing we'd not noticed was the motor boat with a cargo of adults which had landed much further up the beach.

"Down!" I whispered. I could have shouted. They were too far away to hear. We dropped back into the mud.

"Why?" he asked.

"There's a boat landed up the beach."

"Oh good, they're here." And he started to stand up. I pulled him down again.

"It's not them, it's a crowd of grown-ups."

His eyes went round. "But...but....all our clothes are up there."

"I know. Quick, get under cover. Follow me."

Like two savages again we gained the trees and ran some way into their protective cover. I felt like a fugitive: the sick feeling of impending doom settled on my stomach. The prospect of my discovery, naked, by adult strangers, was appalling. To be naked with a small boy and discovered -- well, I hardly knew what they'd think.

I had to get our clothes.

"Can you follow me quietly up to where our clothes are?" I whispered.

He nodded, and I started walking up the island as quietly as I knew how. After some time we started hearing voices, so I started walking in a crouch, ready to drop flat at any moment. He took the hint and did the same.

It must have been effective, because we saw --admittedly at some distance -- one of the visitors relieving himself against a tree. I dropped immediately, as did James. The man turned and walked away. I made a mental note of where the tree was so I could avoid it.

Very carefully and slowly I indianed my way toward the beach, thankful that James could also move quietly. Slowly I raised my head over the small rim of dead foliage, twigs and leaves that had accumulated at the edge of the trees and scanned the beach. Fortunately they were some way away from our clothes and towels which were still where we had dropped them. But they were still close enough to notice either of us if we made a dash down to pick them up.

We were stuck. I looked back at James. His eyes were sparkling and his mouth was open in a half grin. He was enjoying it!

"It's not funny! If you think it is, you go down there and fetch them."

The grin receded.

"I don't know them."

"Well take it seriously, then."

"Don't you know what to do?"

"Do you?"

The grin disappeared. "I thought you had a plan."

"No." I was short with him. Although the danger of discovery was still very real, the sick feeling had passed and I was just angry. Angry with them for spoiling our island and angry at not being able to do something about it. Oh, and angry at being powerless to retrieve the only barriers between our present state and decency.

"Can't we attract their attention somewhere else?"

I looked at him, thinking hard. He had a point. But how?

"You know, like the pictures when the spy wants the man to look the other way. He chucks a stone into the bushes."

"How can I chuck a stone form here?"

"You'll have to go up there and do it."

"So they run after me and catch me? No thanks."

"I will."

"You will? What happens if they get you?"

"I dive into the sea."

Normally you don't think ahead at fourteen. But this time I did.

"And what happens when you get out of your depth?"

"Well.....well you'll have to go."

I was silent for ages, trying to think of a better idea.

"All right, I give in. When they run after me, get the gear and come back here. I just hope they don't find me."

"Good luck."

It felt desperately lonely, that slow, careful walk, crouch and slither up the island. I'd not felt so naked, so exposed, since we first started being unaware nudists. But the knowledge of what I had to do and the fact that I was naked doing it really made me cling to every bit of cover I could find. At one point I looked down at myself. The mud had partially set, leaving cracks of skin colour at the points where my joints moved. The rest of me had picked up a variety of leaves and other debris from the ground. God knows what I'd look like to the strangers if I was caught.

Near where I could hear them talking I found, thankfully, a thick bush. Getting inside it was a painful business, and once there I found that I had nothing to throw to make a diversion. Cursing my stupidity I crawled out again, giving a grunt of pain as a branch cut into me. When I was outside, listening again, the voices had stopped. I looked up. A woman was crouching in the bushes, her skirt around her waist, and was staring at me. One hand was in front of her mouth, looking for all the world like a cartoon character who's just had a shock. I almost expected to see Mickey Mouse run round in front of her and to hear a scream.

I was half right. A shocked half second later, crashing started from the direction of the beach as I turned and ran away as fast as I could. Unheeding now of the noise I was making I just knew I had to put as much distance between me and the scene of my embarrassment as I could. I ran until I was out of breath.

"Where am I?" I asked myself. I had a vague idea the beach was to my right, so I returned to silent mode and headed off there, although the sound of my panting probably put paid to any secrecy. As I recovered I heard voices, and stopped instantly, belly to the ground.

"But I told you it was an ape! It was all covered in leaves."

"Apes don't have leaves, they have fur. You imagined it."

"I didn't. It was black, covered in leaves, and about six feet tall. The leaves were stuck to its fur."

"Come on Mary, pull the other one. You just had too much wine last night."

"I had lots less than you. And I know it was there. It was watching know."

"Yeah, and I'm the King. If it was six foot and covered with leaves it was a tree."

"Don't call me a liar."

"I'm not, it's just that you imagined it."

"Well I'm not spending the afternoon here, and that's definite. Take me away, please. I want to find a pub."

"Oh, Mary...."

"No, I mean it. It gave me the shock of my life. Take me away. Now."



There was a silence.

"All right. Come on. And I was looking forward to exploring here, too."

I had managed, in my panic, to run in a complete circle. Had they not been talking and I'd not stopped running I'd probably have run onto the beach just by them. Bloody hell. My blood curdled. And then, as so often happens when you realise you've just been released from a fate worse than death, I felt this uncontrollable urge to laugh. I hid my face in my folded arms to stifle any sound and silently shook with near hysteria at my escape and at being called a leaf-covered, six foot ape.

When I recovered I could hear the motor going as they made their escape from the island of foliated apes, and I crawled to the beach to make sure they'd gone. As they reached mid channel my attention was drawn to another boat steering for it, but still some distance away. There seemed to be quite a few people in it.

I cursed, and wondered what was attracting so much attention to our previously unvisited sanctuary. Did I have time to run down the beach to find my clothes and James before the boat got close enough to realise I was naked? I thought so. I gained the sand and hared down to where he'd be, near where our clothes had been. They'd disappeared.

But so had he.

I looked round at the open sea. The motor launch was noticeably nearer. I cursed and rushed to the welcome shelter of the woods, my heart beating fast from running and near discovery.

Where was James?

I called, and got the fright of my life when an answer came from almost under my feet.

"Shhhh! They'll hear you."

"What the.....where are you?"



"Here. Look." I looked around, and a dark log was waving in the air about ten feet away from me. I looked closer and saw him: lying still against a patch of earth his mud covered, naked body was completely camouflaged.

"Bloody hell, James, I couldn't see you until you moved. Have you got the clothes and stuff?"

"Yes," he said proudly. "They were so busy chasing you that there was plenty of time. Did they get you?"

"No. One of them saw me, but she thought I was a leaf covered ape."


I explained. My patch of earth curled up with laughter.

Voices could be heard from the beach.

"Where are they?"

"They're late."

"So are we."

"That's only because that boat was there."

"Perhaps they saw it and left."

We crawled to the edge of the beach just to make certain. Yes, it was them. But clothed. It didn't worry James. With a whoop he leapt out of the bushes and rushed toward them, shouting like an attacking warrior. After the first shock they laughed at this mud encrusted, naked warrior as he danced round them, brandishing his imaginary spear.

I followed more sedately, rather worried that they were all clothed -- well, wearing shorts -- and I had nothing on except mud. It was almost as bad as the first time I had to show my body to the school doctor with the nurse standing by. But I needn't have worried. They quickly dropped their shorts, and the girls removed their tops as well, and we flopped down onto the beach with them.

Our mud covering hardened in the sun as we spun together the story of our morning so far. It must have been effective, because they were all rolling on the ground by the time we'd finished. We were so uncomfortable with the cracking mud by that time that we rushed into the water and washed it off.

The next three hours were spent with everybody from Joe, the eldest at 16 down to Billy at 8, towing and being towed by everybody else. James had to do a lot of swimming so it helped him too, and gradually he got used to the idea of not being able to touch the bottom. When we were all exhausted we flopped onto the sand again.

"Are you coming over to visit us this afternoon, like we said?" asked Mark. "We've got this snorkelling session lined up, and that's fun."

I suddenly had doubts, not about the activity but about the nudity. Would it really be all right? Wouldn't we feel odd? But James was nodding his head vigorously. "Yes please, we'd like that. Wouldn't we, Martin?"

"Yes, if it's all right."

"It's all organised, like I said. You can eat with us, then we'll go over there and you can follow in your boat."

"Great! But we've got a packed lunch."

"That's OK -- we'll add that to it. We eat outdoors anyway."

So we hurried off to fetch the dinghy. Even after our ordeal of the morning having no clothes was now so much a matter of course that we forgot all about it until we reached the other shore, when we were possibly going to be in view of the mainland, not that it had stopped us before. We hurriedly prepared the sails and floated her off so the dinghy gunwales would hide us from prying eyes. I took the helm and we sailed to join the others. They motored off to meet up with us and to our horror we found they had put on their shorts.

"Why're you dressed?"

"We always do when we're at sea, in case we meet anybody."

"We aren't."

"So I see. We've got your clothes here. Do you want them?"


"We'll come to you."

And so there was a shift of cargo. Why they bothered with clothes I don't know: some of the boys' shorts were ineffective in hiding their bits, and most notable was Mark's. White, loose and thin, they hardly came below the level of his willy. In fact as I looked he shifted, and it was clearly visible up his trouser leg.

Why should that have been so much more disturbing to my equilibrium than seeing him completely naked? I hurriedly pulled on my shorts.


As we neared the island I started getting jittery about stripping off again. And that was despite seeing numbers of people wandering carelessly around wearing nothing. But inexorably (Another word I was proud of at the time) we drew nearer, struck sail and glided in beside the launch.

We moored. We stripped. We joined the others at lunch. I think that was the oddest thing: to be sat at a table in normal, pleasant domestic surroundings, eating and talking normally, whilst all the time being nude.

The afternoon brought the delights of learning to snorkel. Neither of us had done it before, and we thoroughly enjoyed it.

If you've never tried snorkelling, you don't know what you're missing. If you have, then you haven't. Missed it, that is.

Watching Mark's well rounded, muscular bum floating on the surface as his head pointed downwards was funny, and gave me an odd feeling inside. It was like an oddly shaped whale which would suddenly flip up its fin -- well, two thin fins -- and dive.

To see the beach underneath us gradually shelving away into oblivion was like being let into a major secret, only to discover a bigger one further on. Add weeds, rocks, crabs, the occasional fish and other marine life and you have the makings of paradise for anyone young enough not to have become jaded. Neither James nor I, nor indeed any of the others who had done it before, got bored, and spent the whole afternoon in the water.

"See you tomorrow?" asked Mark as we reluctantly realised what the time was and said we had to leave.

"You bet!" I answered emphatically. He had opened up a lot over the day since I had towed him in from `drowning' and he had done the same for me under my direction. It almost seemed as if he liked me.

I was a bit quiet on the way home. I felt split. James looked up to me, and I was happy being a sort of brother/father to him, especially because he was so uncomplicated. But Mark was......different. With him I felt a different sort of tingle; a keener, deeper, more meaningful feeling in my stomach. I found myself looking round for him, willing him to be there, nearby. Leaving the beach was only not difficult because I knew we were going back.

It was as well that James knew how to sail -- more or less. My thoughts were elsewhere.

We were late.

They had seen us come from a different direction and were keen to know where we'd been.

"Oh, island hopping," I said.

"You won't go near the big island, will you?" said my mother. "It's a nudist colony."

I was silent. So, mercifully, was James.

We were both absolutely shattered that night. We ate silently, James fell asleep in the chair over coffee. I was nodding off. Eventually he had to be carried off by Mr Evans. It was only shortly after I said goodnight, much to my parents' astonishment.

As his father had returned to the lounge, I went upstairs to James' room, only to find him spark out. I smiled fondly and returned to my own domain where I flung myself on the bed, alone at last after two nights of company. I thought over the day and inevitably Mark's face swam across my imagination. Well, more than his face, actually. I had to get undressed, because it was getting uncomfortable. As I took off my underwear I was puzzled to find them damp in front. Strange. I hadn't needed a pee. I went, to make sure I didn't, and found that trying to direct the little stream that there was downward rather than up in the air was quite a difficult and uncomfortable task. A shower? Too tired. Ruler? Why not.

No change.

Well, I had to get rid of its stiffness somehow, and I had every intention of doing so anyway, with Mark in the forefront of my mind. As my hand did its best for me I noticed that the tip of it was getting a bit shiny, so I stopped to see what it was. Clear liquid? Why? Was I all right? Was this venereal disease? If so, how had I caught it? I hadn't had sex with anybody, least of all a prostitute -- which is how I knew you caught it..

I shrugged my shoulders. There was nothing I could so about it now, and VD or no VD I was half way to whatever, fantasising about being with.....a boy? Why? It must just be that I wasn't old enough to be attracted by girls yet. Oh well, it was harmless.

I continued, thinking about being near him, thinking about how he'd always seemed to be nearby, thinking about how he always seemed to smile when I did, thinking about his faultless body, his beautifully shaped....and suddenly, more powerfully than before, it seemed, I was there. I let my hand finish until all the need had gone, and then relaxed. And relaxed. And nearly fell asleep. It was only the little draft from the window across my midriff that woke me. It felt colder than usual in one particular place, and I wondered for a moment if James had sneaked into the room and dripped water on me.

He was nowhere to be seen.

I sat up and looked with puzzlement at myself. It had got limp, of course. It was now touching the inside of my thigh.

On which was a patch of damp. Which must have come from my willy.

I was now positively awake. With a shaking hand I raised the end of my drooping organ and peeled the skin back a bit.


Had I started? Had nature turned the tap?

I knew from long experience that it was no use trying again, not for some time. But I so wanted to know, to watch, to see if it was at last happening for me. I decided to go to bed and sleep, then wake up and try again at about midnight. I got under the covers.

There was a knock on the door. I opened my eyes. Mother, and the next day. Damn.

"You're late again, darling. Are you well?"

Better than you think, mother, if only I could try it out. "Yes thanks. Fine. I was just tired after yesterday."

"What, more so than usual?"

"Yes. I was teaching life saving." Damn. I hadn't meant to say anything.

"Oh. To James?"

"Yes, and....some others."

"Oh, that's nice. Did they enjoy it?"

"Yes, and they showed me how to snorkel."

"Isn't that dangerous? You will be careful, won't you."

"It's not dangerous. We only did it in shallow water, and we use the `buddy' system. There's plenty of other people around."

"Where did you do it?" Well, she had to ask, I suppose.

"We met some people on our island, and went to theirs."

"Oh. So long as you don't go to that nudist colony. They're all funny people there."

"I'm sure they're not, Mum. They probably just like the freedom of not wearing swimming things."

"Like your father did in the Navy, you mean? That was just men together, and I'm not sure I really approve of that. There are some parts of the body you just don't show."


"Oh it's all right for you and James, but when you get older you'll understand. Anyway, come down to breakfast soon. We'll wait for you."

"But why, Mum?"

"Because we like to eat with you there."

"No, why don't you show these `some parts of your body'?"

"You'll know when you grow up."

"I have."



"You'll know."

"I know now." She wasn't going to get away with not answering me.

"No you don't. It's all right before you reach....before you start growing hair on your body."

"I have."

"Nonsense. Hurry up and come down to breakfast."

She left, rather swiftly I thought, before I had time to think of the next retort.

The clock said that I had fifteen minutes to shower, dry and dress. I had no time for the check I just had to make. Was James up? Should I go up? I shot to the door and darted, still naked, outside. Up the stairs, knock at the door...why? He never knocked on mine...and threw the door open.

And there was Mrs Evans siting on the end of James' bed talking to him. My reaction was instant.

"Oh...." Her head swivelled. I hid behind the door.

"I'm sorry Mrs Evans. I thought I'd better see if he was awake."

"Sorry, Martin. I didn't mean to scare you. Don't worry about me -- after all, I have a son of my own, you know."

Yes, but not one who was more or less adult.

"'s just....Oh well, he's awake. I'll go and have a shower."

"See you at breakfast. Can James come and use your shower as usual?"

"Oh yes...yes....of course."

And I was gone. Fast. Down the stairs I scuttled before she could get to the door and see my bare bum disappear.

He showed up a few minutes later, grinning broadly as he joined me in the shower without a by-your-leave.

"That gave you a shock, didn't it?"

I just looked at him. "I'm not coming to wake you up any more."

"It's all right. I go around naked in front of her. And you go around naked with Hannah."

"That's different."

Over breakfast my father turned to me. "Martin, how about today for a sail? Just the two of us?"

I thought quickly. I'd arranged to be on the island at 10 o'clock again, with James, then spend the rest of the day with the naturists. My hesitation seemed to dispirit him.

"Well, if you'd rather not...."

"No, Dad," I said desperately. "It's just that I'm teaching these people life saving and I said we'd see them at 10. On the island. You know you wouldn't like me to let them down ." Reliability was one of his frequent messages to me. It cheered him up.

"How about if James and I both come along. You could do your tuition, then James could stay with them for a bit and we could go off. Would that be all right?"

Well, they said they wore clothes when in the boat. I saw no problem. And I really did owe him a sail.

"All right," I said. Always gracious, me. "I'd better tell James."

He was thrilled with the idea. "Perhaps he'll strip off too," he said.

Somehow the idea didn't attract me. "He won't. He's not that sort."

"He might. He said he did in the Navy."

"That's different. You sure you don't mind staying with them on your own?"

"I'll be OK."

We all three readied the dinghy for the short voyage. I think Dad was quite impressed with the amount of work James was doing without being asked. It took a very short time before we were under way. I let Dad take her, with James on the foresheets. It seemed only fair.

"Where do you go?" the skipper asked as we were heading in the island's general direction.

"This side, then we walk across. It's a more sheltered mooring."

"I'll do the same."

As soon as we had moored properly James was pulling off his T-shirt. For one minute I thought his shorts were going to follow, but he made no further move. I did the same, and after a pause so did my father. He was very white compared with us. Today was the first day I'd seen him in shorts, and the colour of his thin legs was more like a candle than skin tone.

There was no sign of the others when we got to the opposite shore, thankfully. I had sudden visions of lots of naked people I'd have to explain. I wondered what they'd do. In fact the more I wondered, the more apprehensive I became. We just sat on the sand and waited. I could see James was itching to get into the water. At last he could stand it no longer.

"I'm going for a swim," he announced. "Anybody else coming?"

I just looked at him. "I didn't bring any trunks," said Dad.

"Oh, we just go in without. You said the other day that we could."

He looked at him. "So I did. I thought you probably would. It's great, isn't it?"

"Mmm." I agreed without thinking.

"I suppose....." he started. ".....but it's not really fair on you two, is it?"

"What?" I asked.

"Well, you're my son, and James goes skinny-dipping with you anyway, so perhaps it wouldn't matter. What d'you think?"

"What?" I asked again.

"If I stripped off and came in with you both."

I looked at him. Well, he was my father. It didn't worry me. "James?" I asked.

"Yeah, why not? The others do."

"What others?" Dad had latched on.

"Oh, the others I'm teaching. We don't bother with swimming things."

"You kept that quiet."

" didn't seem to matter, and I thought Mum wouldn't like it."

"Hmmm. No, you're right. She wouldn't. But then she's not been in the Navy. Anyway, if neither of you two mind, I'm happy. Just don't let on to your parents, James, or you to your mum, Martin. They wouldn't understand. Sure?"

We both nodded. He started to undress. James watched for a moment, then with one quick movement hauled down his shorts, sat on the sand and unconcernedly took off his shoes. He stood up.

"There!" he announced. Dad looked at him and grinned. "Good boy. Are we two going to be the only ones, or are you joining us, Martin?"

I grinned too, suddenly a lot happier than I had been before. Funnily, there was a tiny little weight that had lifted from my mind which, now I thought of it, had been there ever since we had started wandering around in the nude. If my own father sealed it with his approval, there was no way it could be wrong. As to my mother; well, she was a woman and didn't understand men like me. She'd made that very clear the other day. It still rankled.

I stripped off at about the same rate as Dad did. It was odd seeing his for the first time without having to spy over a toilet partition. He was about the same size as the Doctor, as I remembered. Oh well. That was normal, I supposed. I'd get there one day.

Swimming was great. Once he had declared himself as one of `the lads' my father was even more fun than usual. He chased and allowed us to chase. He tickled and allowed us to tickle. He ducked and allowed us to duck. And he seemed to expect it. He even ducked James, and laughed at him when his victim came up blowing like a pink whale. The scared look in his eyes disappeared immediately Dad held him above the water again so he could breathe.

He even asked Dad to duck him again.

We were interrupted by a shout.

"Hallo.....! We've been waiting out there for ages, thinking strangers were here again and you were hiding. And it's you all the time!" This was the Doctor.

I waved from the water. "My Dad's with us. Come along in!"

He shook his head. "Hallo,'s Dad. Sorry, but my wife and I have to go to town today with the girls. There's a special event going on that they want to go to. Can I leave Mark, Billy and Ralph with you? Can you ferry them over to the island later in your boat? There's lunch waiting for you, and you'll be welcome, too." This was to my father.

"George Finch," he said. "Good to meet you."

"Malcolm Rogers. How do you do?"

"Is that all right, Dad?" I asked.

"You're in charge today, old son. Yes, that's fine by me."

"Thank you, Dr......Rogers. I'll do that."

He dropped the others off on the shore where they stripped off without any further thought that my father -- all of us -- might have been clothed, and ran into the water.

"Phew!" said Mark, making straight for me. "I've been longing to dive in all morning. Sorry we're late. The girls found this clothes exhibition they wanted to go to, and Dad's got to take them. Hallo, sir."

"Good to see you. I see my son isn't going to introduce us, but I'm George Finch."

Mark laughed and pointed out the others. Then a thought struck him.

"Er...I hope you don't mind, sir. We just stripped off just then as we always do. It never occurred to me that you weren't er...."

"Naked too? Don't worry, I am. We used to in the Navy, and as my son and his friend did, I asked if they'd mind me doing the same. I hope you don't mind?"

"Of course not, sir. I mean, we always do on holiday. That's why we stay on the island over there."

There was this silence. Dad looked at me sharply. I could see he was, although I was watching Mark at the time. I didn't trust myself to look anywhere else. Dad carried on, in a rather flat voice.

"You mean you're nudists."

"Well, naturists actually, but then I suppose we're all nudists at the moment, aren't we?"

"Er....yes. It's just that Martin never told me."

"There's no problem, is there sir?"

Another silence.

" It's just that you get a certain idea about nudis....naturists. And I wasn't alone in getting it. I wish you'd told me." This was to me.

"Dad, if I had, you'd have stopped us coming here, and visiting them. And there's no reason not to. I mean they're all normal people, it's just that they prefer not to wear anything. Just like we've been doing."

"Hmm. That's easy to say.....well, we're here now. You seem to be entirely normal, and so does your father. And if he's a doctor...well....." Another pause. I could see a sort of dismay crossing the faces of my new friends. It matched mine. James and Rose and Billy were all splashing about together in the shallows, as happy in each other's company as we had been up to a few moments ago. Dad looked at them, and his face softened.

"Oh damn. What's it matter? I was as ready to accept all of you as friends before you mentioned naturism; why should one word make a difference? I'm not sure I'll want to come and visit you on the island this afternoon, but if you two want to go, then you can. But right now, I want to swim, and this wretched son of mine can teach you lot lifesaving. In fact I might come and get him to rescue me, so I can get my own back by being difficult!"

Now I could look at him. He was grinning at me, and as I stared he launched himself at me in a tackle. That started us all off, and before long we were all playing again. Yes, even him.

I carried on with my tuition eventually, but only for a short while. I wanted to get sailing with Dad, just so we could talk. Eventually we dragged ourselves free, leaving Joe, the eldest, responsible for James' safety.

We went sailing, him and me, and had a long chat. He felt better for it afterwards, and I did too. I think he came as near as he could to saying that my mother was a bit old fashioned in her beliefs. I'd already decided that. I told him that I'd tell him things like that if it happened again, but I really couldn't see that it would. It turned out he liked them all, anyway.

"I've not had so much fun for years," he said about the morning's messing around.

"Are you coming to the island with us?"

"I don't think so. I'm not sure that I'm ready for...."

We sailed long and hard. He got me to put the little dinghy through her paces, to push her harder than I'd dared do on my own -- and I enjoyed sailing fast. We shipped in water on more than one occasion as a stronger gust heeled us over, and it was quite a job to keep her upright.

"Don't do this when you've got James aboard, or when you're out of sight of land," he warned, "just in case you do go over badly."

He headed at last toward the town, but as he was about to make the last few turns gybed instead and headed back out again. I looked at him in surprise.

"I'm going to come back with you lot," he said, "if you'll have me?"

"Are you sure?" I was so surprised that he'd even consider going naked that I thought for a moment he'd forgotten what was about to happen.

"No. But I'm coming anyhow. If I can't do it then I'll take the dinghy back and come for you later."

We collected the first contingent from our island, and they were as surprised to see him as I had been. When they heard he was going to try it there were grins and calls of congratulations all round. He left James, Mark and me on shore and took the other three.

We sunbathed, waiting for him to return. I was in the middle, with this nice warm feeling that I had two people beside me who were very special to me, and a third who was about to come and fetch us to have more fun. Mark was lying on his stomach, his face toward me, and every time I looked in his direction he seemed to be watching me. Every time I did so I smiled, liking the idea that he was paying so much attention to me, and liking him even more as the time went on.

Dad came. "Well," he started. "I've just never seen anything like it. There's crowds of them there, all naked, and none of them caring, even if I was dressed. It's amazing."

"Think you'll like it?"

"We'll see. Come on."

He was right. When we had moored just at their jetty there were people everywhere, more than the previous day. All ages. Both sexes. No clothes. Dad seemed to take a long time to ensure the dinghy was safe, and I wasn't going to strip off without the others doing so, preferably first. Eventually he looked around, and I could see that there was nothing else he could possibly do for the boat. Mark and James were just watching life pass them, Mark with a grin and James with his mouth open. But they were waiting for us. Eventually Dad was ready, straightened up and walked off the boat. His face was very red.

"Come on," said Mark. "I'll take you to somewhere you can leave your clothes."

"Do we undress now?" I asked.

"Oh no. That wouldn't be fair. Whenever anyone arrives here they go to their cabin or caravan first, then just join in normally from there. We don't go in for striptease! Come on."

So, looking neither to right nor left, we followed him. It was quite novel to see him clothed, even if his entire clothing was just a pair of shorts. We called at one of the restaurant's outside hatches, where Mark collected the remainder of the booked picnic lunches, and then headed off to a small building nearby. Once inside the changing room, though, Mark peeled off his sorts thankfully, saying how awkward he always felt being one of the few clothed people there, and almost immediately James did the same. The two stood, grinning at us. It was easy for me, and I quickly followed suit, but Dad seemed to be going slower.

"Come on, Dad. We've got a snorkelling course to get to after we've eaten."

He looked at me sharply, and a little unhappily I thought. "Come on," I repeated. "We've seen you now. Everybody else is. So....please?"

He held me in his sights a moment longer, then just dropped his clothes, picked them up and hung them up as we had done, and walked, rather grimly I thought, after Mark who had started off once he had seen that he was nearly ready. Following my father's naked bum was one of the oddest things of the holiday so far.

We found the beach where the snorkelling was due to take place, although when we arrived it was deserted apart from the other members of the family who greeted us rapturously. I could see a smile start returning to Dad's face, much to my relief. He flopped down on the beach thankfully.

"That was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life," he said. "It's all right with just blokes, but when there are women as well I'm not used to it. Don't you get embarrassed?"

"No sir," said Joe. "But then we're used to it. We wander round at home naked too. We have one rule -- you're either dressed or you're undressed. We don't go around in underwear. Well, the kids do, but as you get older it just seems wrong, somehow. Sometimes I've seen girls in underwear, and it's.... well.... er.... more.... you know... than if they were naked." He finished in a rather embarrassed tone.

We ate. It was a light lunch, but as we would all be swimming soon, and as we would each be eating a hearty meal later that was no problem.

The beach gradually filled. Soon there was an instructor (clothed) calling us all together.

Dad decided that snorkelling was fun. We were again each paired with someone else of our own age or build, and I noticed Mark was beside me and told me to put up my hand at the same time as his. Dad got Joe, and James got Billy. We were all happy, and Mark seemed positively light-headed.

Many times that afternoon we would plummet down to the cool, dim depths, to swim around together for a tantalisingly short visit, to be so nearly a part of another world as any naked boy can be, before shooting once again to the surface to relieve the bursting need to breathe. At last it was time to stop. We two were once again exhausted, and James had already given up, so tired were his muscles and lungs. We lay there, all of us, drying off, before Dad and Joe joined us.

"I'd forgotten just how wonderful that is," said my father. "It's even better without any bathing things. You feel so much more a part of it."

We were too tired to comment, but I could hear Joe talking to him for some time.

Dad woke me with a shout. "Do you know what time it is? It's half past six. Dinner's at seven-thirty, and I never even told your mother I'd be out late. She'll be worried out of her mind. Sorry, you lot, but we've got to go. And fast. He'll see you tomorrow, I'm sure. If a miracle happens and I can persuade his mother to come too, I'll see you as well."

"On the island?" I asked quickly.

"Yes." Mark was positive about that.

We were in such a hurry to get to the boat that we almost forgot our clothes, even Dad. He was now used to wearing nothing, and so preoccupied with getting back before Mum called the coastguard that we were about to set off in the nude. When I pointed this out he said something very Navy-like.

We dressed, made the crossing at speed, and were only twenty minutes late for dinner. Mother was not pleased. Neither were James' parents, despite my father's apology. But as the very good, and very welcome, meal went on, things defrosted a bit and talk started.

"What were you doing, to keep him out so late?"

"We were guests of some people, and they were in a snorkelling lesson."

"But only children play with snorkels, surely?"

"Not these. They're the real thing, the sort divers use. And you can safely dive deep with them and see the sea bed. It's really fantastic...." I was listening offhandedly, tired, glad that she had calmed down and the pressure wasn't on me. ".....and of course you really feel at one with everything as the water's touching you everywhere......."

I choked and broke into a fit of coughing. It hurt, rather, as it does when you don't actually need to cough. But it stopped Dad giving the game away. I drank some water and `recovered'.

The talk over coffee turned to their day. It turned out that Mum had met these really nice people; she was a doctor's wife, and she had her young daughter, a friend and her older daughter with her. My ears pricked up, and I jerked back to full wakefulness.

"The little girl's name was Rose, and she's really pretty, and so well behaved. We went round this exhibition together -- it was really well done, and some of the clothes there were delightful -- and got talking. And do you know, they're on holiday too, and staying not far from here. It's a pity we can't go and visit, but they're on the nudist island.

Dad's turn to choke. A real one. Coffee spilt into his saucer. I went to bed; it was either that or have hysterics. A suitable distance outside the lounge I collapsed in a heap, much to the bewilderment of passing waiters, and that's where James found me. I took his arm wordlessly and went up to my room where I collapsed on the bed. I told him what had happened, and he grinned widely, but didn't seem to latch on to it as I had.

We were both very tired. It was hardly surprising that the chat faltered, our eyes gradually closed, and we slept, fully clothed -- well, in the casuals we'd worn on the boat -- together on the bed. Dimly I remember the door opening, then a figure standing over me. I looked up. Mum. She looked very much at peace with the world, and suddenly the near dislike of the last few days since she had humiliated me so evaporated.

"Come on, you. To bed properly. And James. Shower in the morning."

And somehow I let her help me out of my clothes, down to my pants.

"And what are we going to do with your friend? I'd better get Mr Evans up here to get him upstairs."

"He can sleep here."

"Are you sure?"


I sort of helped her ease off the boy's clothes until he was clad just in pants, like me. We managed to get him under the covers, and I just about got in the other side before sleep once again dragged at my eyelids. I answered her good-night with something, and that was that.

I'm told that the Evanses looked in on us later, and found us both dead to the world.

He was awake before me next morning. When my eyes opened he was wriggling around, trying to get from under my arm without waking me, and having the opposite effect. How my arm came to be there, I don't know. I shifted it hurriedly. He stopped wriggling and looked at me.


"Mmm. Wassertime?"

"You always say that."


"Says seven o'clock."

"Tw 'early."

"No it's not. We could start for the island early."



The next thing I knew as I opened my eyes was that it was noticeably lighter and that Dad was sitting at the foot of the bed watching me. James was asleep by my side.

"Morning, Martin. I thought I'd come up and wake you. The service is at nine, so we don't want to be late."

My mind grasped it eventually. Church. Like always on a Sunday. Oh.

"Wassertime?" I asked, with deja-vu.

"Ten to eight."

"All right. We'll see you down there."

When he had gone I stripped the thin coverings off us. James was lying on his back. I had time to examine his body carefully. I wondered what would happen if I touched him, but didn't dare. Then I remembered that I had an experiment to do on myself..... but I couldn't do it on a Sunday, it didn't seem right. And if he was to wake up and see me.... Well, that was out of the question.

So I tickled him until he was awake again, and irritatingly he was immediately lively. None of my long surfacing from subterranean slumbers. His was the landing from airborne sleep.

"First one to get the other one's pants off," he said.

We wrestled on the bed until he was naked and giggling helplessly and I had this minute pair of Y-fronts in my hand. The shower was welcome, and once again he showered me all over and I did the same to him. It gave each of us a reaction, and he giggled as mine reached for the ceiling. I nearly showed him my special exercise for it, but again didn't dare.

We were down to breakfast on time, both looking smart, which was as well since his parents hadn't told him about church.

The service was boring.

We changed afterwards and set off for the island, the two of us, as usual. The others were there, so we stripped off and did some more life saving, really just for the sake of it. There was another chance for snorkelling that afternoon.

We were on the beach having lunch, idly chatting, when Hannah remembered.

"We were with your mothers yesterday. They told us where they were staying and I remembered that's where you were, so we asked them and they told us you were theirs."

"You didn't tell them about the island?" I was worried that mine might discover. Although as she hadn't exploded so far I assumed she hadn't.

"Oh yes. She was amazed, but we look like quite normal people when we're dressed and she liked us. She said that it wouldn't be for her but that if you were happy with it, it's up to you."

I gasped. After all she'd said about not showing `certain parts' of my body when I got to `a certain age'!

"Oh," I said weakly. What on earth was coming to me when I got back? Then I remembered she'd had quite enough time and opportunity to say anything she wanted to during the previous evening, and hadn't. Why?

We'd not noticed it, but the sun was losing its strength. It's shining had become such a part of normal life, like not having clothes on, that to lose it was somehow unnerving. The disc was certainly becoming quite hazy, and the temperature was returning to England's normal of just about OK. As we chatted, letting lunch go down, the breeze started to freshen, and rather too quickly became a wind. I kept having to swallow, because my ears felt as though I was going deaf. I mentioned it to Mark, who somehow had managed to sit next to me.

"I thought it was me," he said. "I wondered if I was ill or something."

After another twenty minutes the wind was strong enough to make sitting outside unpleasant. The sun, too, had decided that it had had enough and was glaring at us like an orange eye as if it was all our fault. Almost as we looked at it it ceased to be the sun as such, and became a brighter disk in the gathering grey of the clouds.

We were starting to get some weather after a week of peace. Almost as one we picked everything up, just as the instructor came to tell us it wouldn't be safe to dive with the wind so strong, and we all trooped back to the main group of buildings.

It's obvious now, but at the time I was so caught up with my friends, especially Mark, that strong wind rang no bells with me at all. We got to the main hall and found a lot of people in there, all queuing for teas or coffees. We got drinks -- they found some staff from somewhere to help -- and sat round a table.

Outside the wind was getting stronger. We knew that because every time the door opened a gust would hit our table. Still nothing connected in my brain.

"Would you like to come and see where we stay?" asked Mark.

"Yes please."

"Can I come?" James didn't want to be left out.

I thought a look of annoyance crossed Mark's face, but he agreed, and we made for the exit.

The door wouldn't open.

We pushed it hard, and eventually managed to force it back against the wind. The way to their cabin took us by the shore.

"Bloody hell!" Worry suddenly hit me as the bells that should have started ringing an hour and more previously started clanging their warning. How was I going to sail home in this? How was anything going to make the journey? The waves were dashing their angry grey bulk against the shore, the sky was leaden in all directions, and the wind tore my words from my mouth and flung them out to sea like so much rubbish.

To sail would have been suicide.

"How do we get home?"

"You can't sail."

"I know."

"We might get you back in the motor boat."

"No, it's too rough for a small boat like that."

"You'll have to stay with us, then." I looked at him sharply. His voice was almost cheering at me, I thought.

"Hmmm. Our parents will be worrying."

"We can phone."

"There's a phone? On the island?"

"Yes. How d'you think people book?"

"Where? Do we need coins?"

"It's probably in the office. Look, I'd better go and check with Dad. Come on."

It took some time to run the Doctor to earth, and he looked as bewildered as adults usually do when you try to tell them something important. Eventually, with both of us talking, often at the same time, we got the message over to him.

"Yes, of course you must phone. Come with me. We'd better arrange for you to stay here the night. There's no way this is going to settle down by this evening, even if the wind does drop."

He was as good as his word, and the office found the number of the hotel.

"Amberdale 427, please."

There were clicks and whirrs as we were put through, then silence, with the occasional hum as the operator rang the number periodically. Although at home we were on an automatic exchange where, of course we dialled most of our own numbers except long distance, and we had been ever since I remember, here the whole system was still worked by an operator. Eventually the hotel answered and there was another delay while they looked for either set of parents. Eventually Mrs Evans came to the phone.


"Hallo Mrs Evans. It's us. We're OK, but we'll have to spend the night here."

"Who is this, please?"

"It's Martin, and James. We're on the island. The sea's too rough to get back."

"Oh, Martin...I see...and is James with you?"

I despaired. "Yes, he's here..... Here, James, it's your mother." I handed the phone over to him and he took it gingerly.

Eventually he managed to persuade her that we really were on an island, one with a phone, and we were OK, but couldn't get back. The Doctor signalled to him, when he seemed about to put down the instrument, that he wanted a word.

Between the two of them I think they seemed to pacify her, and got an assurance that they would tell my parents too. The phone was put down and we looked round at each other.

"Well," said the Doctor. Family conference time, I think. We need to find some beds."

"Martin can have half of mine, Dad. It's a double." This, very quickly, from Mark. I looked my thanks to him.

"Would you mind that, Martin? It's not the best solution, but the place is full this week and there aren't any spare rooms."

"No sir, that's fine by me."

"And James had better share with Billy, if neither of them minds. No one else has a double bed or a spare single in their room."

We returned to the others and told them of the outcome. Billy seemed quite glad to have some company, and I didn't think James would mind. I was right. Once again Mark took us off to show us where we'd be sleeping, and this time Billy and Rose came too. As we crossed the windswept areas between the central buildings and the cabins the first raindrops started....

We collapsed wetly through the doorway of Billy's cabin, where his and Rose's beds were in a room off their parents'. That short distance had seen the rain turn on as if by a tap, and we were all as wet as if we had just been dragged from the sea.

"You two get dry. Have a shower or something and do the job properly. Play cards until it's stopped. We'll do the same in mine, and we'll see you back at the restaurant for a meal."

"Can't you stay and play with us?" asked Rose.

"No. I want to get Martin settled in, and show him something. We'll see you over at the restaurant later."



I wondered what he wanted to show me. He seemed tense. I looked at him, and was surprised to see, for the first time, that his willy was longer than it had been. Well, it happened to me too, frequently. But not usually when I was wet and cold; then it was rather the reverse reaction and I ended up looking like a five year old.

We dodged out into the rain again. It was like film set rain, when it's so obviously being shot into the air from a hose that it looks false. This wasn't false, it was only too real, and cold, but.....

I kept on discovering things that holiday. On the walk from Rose's cabin to Mark's smaller one some distance away we might as well have been alone in the world. A wet world. A wild world. A cold world. Yet over me crept an exhilaration like I'd not met before. I was at one with the elements of nature for the first time since birth. I was not alone except with a good friend, and I had nothing artificial about me at all. There was just we two human wild animals and pure, forceful weather. I stopped in the middle of this big open space. And he stopped too, sensing that I wasn't beside him.

"What's the matter?" he shouted above the wind.

"Nothing. It's just so....wild. And we're alone in it, and there's no one the world." I finished in some embarrassment as it sounded a bit quaint even to me.

He looked at me strangely. Then a slow, contented smile started on his mouth and eyes and he came straight towards me, looking me directly in the eyes as he did so.

"And we're alone in the world.... And there's no one else to tell us what to do. And we're just friends together in nature's strong hold, and all we need to do is to keep warn and please ourselves."

The more he spoke, the wilder I felt. At that moment I believe that if I knew a magical dance to please the gods of weather I'd have done it, so free and unrestrained was my mood. Our mood; he obviously felt the same way I did.

"How do animals keep warm?" he asked suddenly.

"Dunno. Get into a burrow and curl up together, I s'pose."

"How about us?"

"We're wild. We could do the same."

"Under some bushes?"


He gripped my shoulder with his hand, then put his arm round my back. I did the same to him. Together we walked in our wildness towards a line of bushes which bounded the area. It was quite thick and we had to struggle a bit to get in, but once there the power of the rain had been reduced to a few splashes every now and again, more of a mist than a downpour. In the middle was a clearing, strewn with broken dead branches and last year's leaves.

"Our burrow," he said. I looked at him and smiled, full of the game. He sank to his knees and pulled me down beside him. I was not surprised, by this time, to see that he was fully erect, because I was too. We knelt and released each other as we instinctively pushed the debris away from a boy shaped patch in the middle, making a sort of low protective wall. The floor was mud -- or rather, dry earth.

With it ready, he lay with his back against one of the higher parts, and I lay down by his side. He was still looking straight into my eyes, capturing me and holding my gaze to his. How long we stayed like that I don't know, but it was as if time stood still. Then tentatively he put out a hand on my shoulder, but instead of gripping it as he had before he just let it rest there. I did the same to him. He seemed rather a long way from me so I wriggled myself closer.

Our knees touched. Our elbows by this time were bent. My face was only about a foot from his, and I could feel his breathing, quick as my own, on my face.

"Do we curl up together now?" I whispered, anxious not to break the spell.

He made a sort of whimper, and quicker than I could see wriggled toward me, putting his arm right over my shoulder as I did in bed with James, and the other one offered itself to go under my neck. I allowed it, followed suit with my own, and before I knew it our bodies were touching everywhere possible: feet, calves, thighs; chests, bellies.... And yes, his hard, hard wily was pressed against mine. And he was gently moving his hips around to move us one with the other. His face....well, his nose was barely an inch away from mine and we were still holding each others eyes.

From the first new feeling of wildness, of freedom, of the glory of being at one with nature, I had changed to a different first new feeling, that of being at one with another human being in a way I had never thought possible. It was as if the gentle movements between us would eventually merge our two bodies and we would know everything about each other to the extent of becoming one person. It was wild yet comfortable, wondrous yet obvious, beautiful yet disturbing.

The final one-ness came when the inch between our faces closed, our noses edged round each other and our lips touched. It didn't occur to me that that this meant I was effectively kissing another boy. His lips caressed mine and his hands started journeying down and around my back. I let mine do the same to him, with one part of my mind wondering that I was doing so, yet with another knowing it felt absolutely right thing to do so.

We ground our bodies together for a long time, and only when he exclaimed did either of us break free. My eyes opened in disappointment that he had stopped, and looked into his again. He was reaching behind his bottom, reaching for a stick which had slipped down and dug him in the spine.

I sighed deeply and looked at him longingly, wishing it could go on and on. And for another period we propped ourselves on our elbows, looking each other in the eyes, occasionally letting our eyes search another part of the other's face or body whose appearance we needed to check.

Apart now, it didn't take long for the cold to make itself felt, and he noticed that my teeth were starting to chatter too. Swiftly he bent forward and kissed me on the mouth, then got up and helped me do the same.

"Let's get warm," was all he needed to say, and fought his way from the thicket out into the rain which had lessened in force a bit.

We were both very muddy. Our wet skin and our movements together had produced a goo which had stuck to his left and my right thigh, buttock and shoulder. My hair was matted too. I followed his muscular, though grimy, bottom as it bobbed in front of me. Again I was thinking along two separating lines. The normal Martin was wondering how I'd managed to get into this, why I was allowing myself to be involved with another boy, and what would everyone else think about it. The recently discovered Martin was in a kind of trance, didn't know what had happened, did know that something else was about to happen, and certainly knew that he had to go along with it.

We found his cabin. Inside we stood, dripping, glad of the warmth the place offered.


It wasn't so much an offer, more a statement of fact. We both crossed to the little cubicle; I followed him inside. By this time I was so used to showering with James that it was natural to me to share, but he looked surprised and pleased.

"I hoped you'd share."

I just smiled. Once again we were looking at each other as if trying to remember every detail of the other's face. At last he broke the contact, and found the taps.

Inevitably the first jet of water was freezing, and it rather broke the spell. We jumped apart with a shout, then both laughed. He adjusted the temperature, then looked at me.

"Did you see what the time was when we got here?"

"No. I wasn't looking."

"Nor was I. Wait a mo."

He dashed out, still dripping. A second later he was back, looking worried.

"It's half past five."


"We've been out there for two hours, more or less."

"What will the others be thinking."

He paused. "Do you know, with you here I couldn't care less."

Another of those long pauses. I broke it.

"Had we better get back to them? After all, we'll have plenty of time tonight."

As I said it I realised that I hadn't the faintest idea what it was we would have plenty of time for, but it stopped him in his tracks. He just looked at me.

"Do you.... I mean have you.... you know..... done this before?"

"No. Done what?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that you seem to be very.... Anxious."

I just shook my head. I didn't know what he was talking about. Clouds gathered at the edge of my mind. What was I meant to do? Did he think.... Had I done something wrong?

"I just meant that we'd be alone together later, that's all," I said rather desperately.

His face softened. "That's all right. We can even go to bed early."

At this my willy, which had lost its perpendicularity in the cold rain and the shower, somehow decided to perk up again. I don't know why. He was coming back into the shower again.

If he hadn't sort of accused me of being too keen to do....what? I'd have suggested we shower each other like James and I had been doing. I certainly thought it would be very nice to run my hands down his back, over his bottom, down his flank, on his thighs, perhaps even wash his attractively shaped willy. My own was by this time staring at the ceiling. But then, so was his.

But I started washing myself, just to show I wasn't too anxious, and after a pause he did the same. It was a small shower, so some contact was inevitable, usually at speed and painfully. He seemed to slow down as we got cleaner.

"Can you see if my back's clean?" he asked.

"Turn round. There's a mud stain just on the side of your bum."


"Shall I show you?" I wasn't going to be `forward' as my mother would have called it, though she had a different sex in mind.


Tentatively I put my hand on his left buttock, well away from the slit.

"Could you clean it for me?"

Yes, I could. Yes, I did. But that was all. I stopped. He paused.

"Is that it?"

"I think so. Yes. Do you want to do the same for me?"

"OK." The voice was carefully casual. He too found and cleaned a bit of mud, but from right in the centre of my bum, at the fleshiest part of the crack. It was disturbing to feel his fingers enter a little way inside that bit of me to clean; not unpleasant, but just disturbing. He finished, then looked at me briefly, rather straight faced, I thought, and left the cubicle. He found me a towel and we dried in silence.

It had stopped raining by the time we got outside, although the wind was strong and cold against our naked bodies. I was still wondering what it was I'd done or said to make everything stop for us. But as there was this barrier between us now, and he wasn't talking about it, I couldn't either.

The others were rather anxious about us as we'd been so long. Dr Rogers was about to come and search for us.

"We've just been chatting," said Mark casually. "And we had a shower when I'd shown Martin round the area a bit. It was great just standing in all that wind and rain -- really wild. And then we went to shower to get warm again."

I nodded my agreement. Was it my imagination or did the doctor give his son a strange look?

We played board games, then ate, then there was a table tennis tournament. It's always been one of the only ball games I'm any good at, and even as a guest I was keen to win. James hadn't played before, so he was taken off to be taught, much to his delight.

My opponents were, to be honest, not much good. I seemed able to dispose of them quickly, and was left, in my age group, with Mark to play against and one or two who seemed to know what they were about.

To my surprise, and to the delight of my new friends except Mark, I won. But even he was glad after I went on to beat the others in the league.

Mine wasn't a decisive victory, but they suggested that I take on the winner of the next age range. Well, I did my best, and it was an enjoyable game, but I really should have played some of those who had been knocked out earlier. It wasn't so much speed as reach that did it.

At last I caught Mark yawning in my direction and it didn't take long for me to latch on and do the same. I made the comment that I was tired after what had been a strenuous day, and did they mind if I went to bed. James looked at me in astonishment, but I was not in a mood even to notice him. Almost too swiftly we said our goodnights.

Something had happened that afternoon, something exciting which I didn't understand, yet I knew I wanted more. It involved another boy my age, and physical touch, and an almost painful sensation in my body. I knew it was connected somehow with my willy, which had been as stiff as I had ever known it. The knowledge that we could make it happen again, both us, together, wanting to explore, made me start to react even before I had reached the door. The cold of the rain made me shiver. We had no coats with us as the summer until then had been hot. Less ardent now, we raced over the open, grassed areas to the group of small cabins which included his. He let me in first and closed the door, then stood facing me. We were both shivering, and it was obvious. He started laughing, and something in me caused me to do the same. The cold and the anticipation had made us light headed, and our laughter soon changed into that uncontrollable semi-hysteria that happens when you're younger.

We got the better of it eventually, but not before we'd each staggered to the bed to ease our aching stomach muscles. I found my head was somewhere at his midriff, and for a second or two, while he recovered, I could examine closely the perfect pearls of this oyster. The scent of him was there too: rain, natural body oil, and that undefinable smell of....Mark. I lay there, thinking that this was the most perfect moment of my life. His sobs of laughter quietened, and he lay there still while I just looked. And as I breathed, slightly quicker and more deeply, the pelt of curly hair above the target of my stare fluttered in time with it. And below, the boy/man organ started to expand downwards against his wet thigh, and then slowly, in time with the beating of his heart it lifted away towards me, and continued expanding and lifting until almost parallel with his body.

He let me be, just watching him there and breathing him in, for ages. And all the time this wondrous part of him pulsed before my face. The break, when it came, was in a soft, gentle and pleading voice.

"Please, will you...I mean do you want to....touch, as well as look?"

I turned my head to look at him in surprise. I had thought him asleep or still laughing. The fact that he was watching the watcher had not occurred to me at all. I stretched my hand up, timidly. What to do?

Very gently I lifted a finger to stroke the side of it. As I touched for the first time he gave a start, and I wondered if I'd done wrong.

And my own heart gave a start, too. For the first time I'd touched the most intimate part of a boy my own age, my friend, my companion, my sharer of the secrets of wild weather and our nest, the boy who had drawn me to his friendship as no other in my life, the boy who I loved......loved? How could I? I wasn't gay! But perhaps this was just friendship, deep friendship, and girls and real love would come when I got older.

My hesitation was noticed, and he looked up in concern.

"Don't you want to?"

"Yes. Oh, yes." And I did. Having got this far, and knowing he wanted me to, I wasn't going to pass off the opportunity of being as honest, as intimate, with him as I could. Yes, I wanted, very much.

Slowly I stroked him, with one finger, with two, up and down, encircling as well as stroking. He started to make little whining sounds as I gentled him, getting to know every bump, every part of this attractive boy's manhood. I wondered if I should touch underneath as well, on the bag of skin with the small central ridge, which contained the two perfect ovals which hung beneath him. Perhaps if one hand continued, the other could gently try....

As I touched one of the ovals he gave a small gasp, and I heard his breathing get noisier. To me, the smoothness of his balls was like nothing else, and the fullness of them between my fingers as I gently held them, like priceless works of art, made my eyes start to water with an emotion I didn't know, but knew it had to do entirely with intimate, close friendship, with absolute trust and, if this was love, then yes, with love.

A choked voice at last called my name. Almost guiltily I stopped my fondling and looked at his face.

How can I describe that look? An angel at rest? A contented baby? Or just pleasure in a glance? The hair tumbled, still wet, the forehead smooth, the eyes half closed, the mouth with a Mona Lisa smile, the skin resting and unblemished, and the whole visage so at rest.

As I watched, he spoke again, in tones so gentle, so serene, so happy that my heart burned.

"Please can I have something to look at, and play with?"

It took a moment for me to realise what he meant. A split second of doubt attacked me. Did I want him to look at me that closely, that intimately? Would my poor little willy really come up to his expectations? Could I really enjoy his fingers doing to me what mine were doing to him?

Did I really have a choice?

I swung myself round on the bed so we were lying parallel. I had a moment's panic as he looked at the most intimate parts of my body closely for the first time. I watched him watching me there as I had watched him. As his hand slowly came up to touch -- yes of course I was erect -- I shivered in anticipation. His touch made me start as had mine on him. It partly tickled and partly was...what? How do you describe the stage of your body's feeling when tickling becomes a deep sensation, ultimately pleasurable, yet near enough to the tickle of childhood to make you remember it?

It was that. More: I had reached that stage on my own with my nightly tests and measurings. But this was somebody else, someone who was making me feel these sensations because he wanted to, and because I wanted him to.

As I watched him, he did something which astonished me and touched me so much that I wanted to cry.

He put his mouth to that part of me I had, before this holiday, regarded as the most private of my body, that I would never let anybody else see, let alone touch. And he kissed it.

I could say nothing. His head looked down at my face and just smiled. I could say nothing, do nothing or show anything on my face.

"Why not?" he whispered. "It's not dirty, like they'd have you believe. It's good looking, and I like you. A lot."

I said nothing, still. But my eyes returned to his. His equivalent to mine, so much bigger, with so much more hair at its top, and with so much more rounded, bigger balls under it. Could I? What would it be like? Did I want to? I could hear my own breath being forced from a throat which nerves or something had seemed to constrict. I wanted to be one with him in some way, to show we were really grown up best friends and shared everything.

My lips touched it. It quivered away. My lips chased it, and kissed it not once, but feverishly, all over, as if the adultness of what I was doing was as important as my want to feel it under my lips. And what would happen if I put my lips over the end? Would he loose control and pee in my mouth? I was sure he wouldn't, so much did we trust each other.

I brought my head down so I could reach it. It seemed to be wet.

"Why's yours wet?"

"It's when you get stiff, and think It's just a sort of oil."

"Isn't it piss?"

"No. It's all right."

"What happens if I get some inside me?"

He paused. Then wonderingly: "Would you do that?"


"It wouldn't do any harm."



It seemed the right thing to do to run my tongue up and down, like my fingers had been doing. He gasped again, then lay back once more, leaving mine free but throbbing. At last I had made up my mind. Once again I stretched down, opened my mouth, and encircled its end. I felt my tongue contact the sensitive part which had been under the protective skin but which was now being exposed as my lips pushed downwards. It picked up some of the liquid: salty, a bit slippery, like oil, as he had said. He was breathing quicker now, and the whining sounds were nearer together.

My other hand returned to his balls. I don't know why, it was very uncomfortable for me. Yet the discomfort was nothing compared to the feeling I was receiving at being so much a part of the privacy of this wonderful other human being. I let my tongue roam at will, and my lips were pushing the skin and releasing, pushing and releasing, and I suddenly realised that what I was doing was wanking him with my mouth. The idea was so novel that I stopped.

At once there was an impatient sound from up the bed. I felt my own erection being grabbed, then swallowed, and then tongued.....and if I thought that the most perfect moment of my life had been just savouring his sight and smell and taste then I was wrong. The physical pleasure of wet softness around my little erection was almost too much. I gasped and moaned, both at the same time, and he gave a whimper. Now I knew what I was doing for him, and why he was making those sounds.

Armed with that, my tongue began in earnest, licking and teasing, and my lips pushed and pulled his skin first up, then down. At the fundament of my body he was doing the same, swiftly, impatiently, and all of a sudden I could feel that IT was about to happen. I no longer thought about checking for white stuff. That, in comparison with my emotions, my feelings, my pleasure, was nothing. Less than important. I gave out a wail, my body tensed, and the most violent of spasms travelled through me, then another, and another. There must have been seven or eight, and then more, less violent ones as my body went through its first orgasm with another human being. I subsided and at last, panting, hot, sweaty and exhausted, with this cock in my mouth. I almost spat it out, and concentrated for a moment on breathing and gaining my equilibrium -- literally, because I had almost fainted with the intensity.

Was this sex? Why did my parents, teachers, vicars, even my school friends call it dirty? It was the single most wonderful thing I had ever experienced. No way could it be dirty.

"Martin...Martin...." A voice was calling me. I shook my head, trying to get my brain to work.

"Thank God, I thought you'd passed out."

The face was concerned, but still rapturous. My body was out of his mouth. He licked his lips. Then I just wanted him with me, wanted him part of me. I struggled my body round until I lay beside him, and hugged him, and our lips seemed to merge. To want to explore in his mouth, as well as his lips, seemed natural, and I wondered if I dare. Then his tongue sought to penetrate my lips and I knew I need not worry. We explored each other for ages, and I remembered what he's just done for me.

I felt better, and knew that I had to return all that effort that he'd spent on me. As we explored each other's mouths my hand strayed down his body, and once again touched and fondled that previously forbidden territory. Could I make him do as I did to myself? I'd never done it to someone else before. Slowly I started, carefully, softly. And he laid back. My other hand went down to fondle underneath, under the smooth balls which now seemed to be higher, nearer his body, than the two plums in their smooth sac that I had felt before. I couldn't, now, in the valley still of my own orgasm, bring myself to use tongue and mouth on him. But he was breathing heavily, and as I continued, more confidently now, he started his whimpering again.

That stopped, and the breathing deepened further, then with a cry it was his turn. A jet of the white stuff I wanted to see so much emerge from myself shot up his body to land under his chin, another came to rest on his chest, and others landed in quick succession further down his belly. And still my hand continued, although it too was now covered and slimy.

At last he put a hand on my wrist, and I stopped.

As his breathing returned to normal I looked at the results of my labours. It was warm, and sticky, and white. And there was a lot of it. It was so much a part of him that I wondered if I should have caught it in my mouth, if it was harmless as he had said. But now, I couldn't do it. Perhaps next time?....

We spent ages then, just lying with our arms round each other. Eventually I decided that although my front was warm, my bum and back were definitely not. And the drying results which were still smeared between us were getting uncomfortable too.

"Can we have a shower?" I whispered.

"Are you cold too?"


"I didn't want to....interrupt. That was so good. It's wonderful to have you here."

"I like it too. A lot. And you. A lot."

He looked at me with that gentle smile and I knew that I was lost in him still. He really made me feel so good. To be such a friend, so close, and not just for that physical play....

We unstuck ourselves with a bit of pain and difficulty, and went to the shower. To his surprise I stopped him from soaping himself and instead did it myself. By the time I was half way finished with him he was once again stiff, and I was very careful to ensure it was clean for him. I finished off by washing down his legs and feet, then working my way up again to the top of his thighs. To do this I had to kneel in the shower, so once again my face was staring at this glorious sight of an erect, uncircumcised penis and pendulous, full sized testicles. Once again I felt I had to treat it like a lollipop, and once again he gasped as the sweet bulge at its end vanished into my mouth to be caressed by my tongue. And there we would have stayed, except that as I was wondering how long I could go on there came a knock on the door.

"Stay in there," he whispered as I almost coughed out his erection.

He grabbed a towel as he left the cubicle, wrapped it around himself, decided that too was a dead giveaway as it patently failed to hang straight, and eventually just held it loosely in front of himself, drying himself anywhere, as he went to the door. I turned so my bum was facing the door. My own body would have given the game away, too. I made showering motions.

It was his father. "Aren't you two asleep yet? I thought you were tired."

"Just showering, Dad. Then we're going."

"Everything all right? You OK, Martin?"

"Yes, thank you sir."

"Good night to you both."

"Good night," we chorused. He left.

"That was a bit close," I said as he returned to the shower. Once the towel had dropped I wasn't surprised to see that he was not nearly as hard as he had been. Nor was I.

In silence we dried, then just as silently crossed to the bed and lay in it. Together. Naked. Unashamed. Close. Covered and warm at last.



"Do you do that a lot? With other people?"

"No. Once before, with a boy from school. He showed me what to do and how it can be made even better. But not since."


A pause.



"Can we do it again?"

"I want to, but not tonight. I really am tired. Aren't you?"

"Yes, but...well, will we get another chance?"

"Why not?"

"Don't know."

"Then we'll make the chance."



"In the morning?"


"Can I put my arm round you?"

I don't know where I got the nerve to say this. In fact he was probably surprised too, by the sound of his "Yes."

We were both lying on our sides by this time, facing each other. I cautiously encircled his shoulder with my arm, and he did the same to me. I remember looking into his eyes and feeling his breath on my face, and sighing happily although I didn't know why exactly. I thought I could feign sleep and see if he was in a more receptive mood for play later.

The next thing I knew it was daylight. Someone was hammering on the door. He and I were still lying face to face, arms round each other, and just before the shock set in I sensed he was watching me with a half-smile on his face.


We had separated, of course, before Billy and James came in. But we needn't have worried. They hurled themselves across the room on top of us, somehow stripped off the covers, and the next thing we knew their naked bodies were on top of ours and we were being tickled unmercifully.

We fought back, and all ended up so sweaty that we took one long, gorgeous shower. The difference in ages didn't matter, erections didn't matter; if we found an area of skin near us, we washed it. Mark led the way and washed his brother's willy, I washed James', then Mark's, then Billy's, and I'm not sure if we didn't each wash each other's.

At last we'd had enough, dried, and started talking properly.

"I told Billy we'd been having showers together," said James, "and he said that Mark did with him. So we thought we'd wake you up and do the same. That was fun!"

It was. But it'd have been even better with just Mark and me.

We were early for breakfast, and sat around until the others came in.

"We'd better get you back today," said the Doctor. "Your parents probably want to see you're OK. Anyway, we're on the mainland ourselves later as there's a visit we've got to make to some relatives. And I think the others are going visiting the countryside around too."

This was disappointing. I'd wanted to spend the day with Mark. He looked a bit downcast, too.

"Oh. Right," was all I could say.

It just happened that we got no time alone after that, Mark and me. Before I could turn round, it seemed, James and I had donned clothes and were being waved away from the jetty by the two families. I was trembling. I didn't know why. But all I could think of was when I'd see them all again. Oh, and Mark. I made so many mistakes on that trip that James asked if he could take over the helm, and I let him. He sailed all the way to the village, with me just obeying his commands of "Ready about!" like an automaton.

"You'd better take her," he said, as we got to the bustle of boats around the village, and without a word I did so.

At the hotel we found that my parents had gone out, but had left a pleasant welcoming message with his who were in. He got a kiss: I got my message which amounted to the same thing, and a vote of thanks from his parents for being responsible and looking after their son so well. I reacted as I usually do.

They took James off to the village, shopping, and I was at a loose end. I went to my room and just lay there, wishing I was with them.... I didn't even feel like giving myself the test. I felt empty -- not hungry -- just out of it and, well, empty. And slightly unwell.

I was woken by the door opening and Dad coming in.

"Hallo." He sat on my bed and looked at me. "Feeling a bit down?"

I nodded.

"It happens, specially after an adventure. Have a good time?"

"Yes. They're good fun. Mark particularly."

"I could see you were getting on well. Seems a nice chap, but then so did the rest of them."


"Will you be seeing them again?"

"Yes. Well, I hope so. But not today. Both lots are off the island."

"Oh. Well, how about coming with us for a change? We're heading off to the castle."

"But I've been there, Dad."

"Yes, but not with jousting knights and fair maidens and a funfair."

"Oh. No. That's true."

"And the Evanses are coming."

"OK then."

"Good. Oh, and it's lunch time."

I hadn't realised I was hungry.

The afternoon was fun. It took my mind off things, and James was his usual irrepressible self. It took my mind off everything except Mark, and even he started to get into proportion. I'd see him again, wouldn't I?

He and I showered together as normal that night.

"Billy told me Mark was bigger than you."

"Well, he's older."

"Yeah. Bigger there." He patted my willy -- gently, I'm glad to say. I jumped back.

"Like I said, he's older."

"And it shoots out spunk."


"It makes spunk when he wanks. Does yours?"

I looked at him, the water dribbling into my open mouth. I spat it out. "Did Billy tell you that?"

"Oh yes. He does it too. He says it feels good. He got me to try, but it didn't work."

I was still speechless. The trouble was, my willy was making up for any silence on my mouth's part.

"Shall I try again now?"

"When did Billy see Mark do it?"

"Oh, most nights. When they're in the shower or the bath."

"And Mark's shown Billy how to do it to himself?"

"Yes. And Billy's shown me. When he did it, he went all silly for a bit. But he didn't make any spunk. He says that only happens when you're older."


"Shall I show you how to do it?"


"Don't you want to know?"

"I already do."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

" didn't know you wanted to know."

"Me and Billy did it together. Shall we do it together?"


"It's very easy. Look."

And without any embarrassment he took hold of himself and started pumping, slowly at first until his little erection had blossomed, then faster, more surely. I just watched, amazed.

He looked at me. "Aren't you going to? Or shall I do it for you?"

"You'll be telling me that you did it for Billy."

"Oh yes, for a bit. And he did me. It felt funny, so we swapped back."

Tentatively he reached over to me and grasped, then, again gently, he started on me....

What do I do? Do I let myself be wanked by a nine year old? Do I wank off this nine year old, and perhaps give him his first sensation? Do I do what I know I should and stop us both?

"No," I said weakly. "You do you and I'll do me."

"All right," he said cheerfully.

I didn't want to go too fast, because I wanted so much to see what happened when he got there. So I kept stopping and starting, and altering rhythm so as to delay. It took a long time. Twice I thought I felt it was starting, so I stopped completely and did something else, like scratch my bottom.

The second time it happened I could see something was happening to him. His eyes were closed and he was breathing fast and deep, his head thrown back as if his back was arching, a look of absolute concentration on his face. Then suddenly...


His knees crumpled and the back arched further. He'd have fallen forward if I hadn't caught him under the arms and lowered him to the floor of the shower. The spasms were quick and few, but their effect on him was obviously incredibly deep. Quickly his body finished reacting and slowly settled back on his heels, the back straightening, the chin returning to normal. For a full minute, it seemed, he was in a half faint, half trance, then the eyes opened and looked slowly up.

"Oh....Martin. Was that it?"

At that moment if anybody had mentioned Mark, I'd have asked `who?' Once again I felt as though this little boy was my responsibility, my care, my joy, my pupil. My pupil who had just done something which was so right for him that I didn't have to give congratulations. My boy, who I loved as a father. A father? No, fathers don't teach their sons that. What could I be, then? Brother? Elder brother? I'd come to that conclusion before.

"Yes," I said. "That's it."


His breathing settled down, and he rose, unsteadily.

"I'm going to do that again."

"You won't be able to until your body's recovered."

"What d'you mean?"

"You have to wait an hour or more before it'll work again."


"Dunno. You just do."

"What happens if you try?"

"It doesn't work."

"Oh. Are you going to do it now?"

"I was doing it when you collapsed."

"I know."

So I started again. With having only just stopped to let him go first so I could watch, and then the sight if my little brother's first time, it took only a couple of minutes. As it came, I felt as good as I usually do, but was surprised to feel something warm, something different from shower water, land on my belly. As soon as I was able, as things began to die down, I looked.

And there it was.

My first bit of white stuff. Spunk, James had been told to call it.

As I watched, more trickled out and lay in a pool at the top of my willy, before dripping down the side.

I stopped the actions, it all subsided, and my first seed was washed away by the shower.

"Wow," said James again. "Is that spunk?"

"Yes," I managed.

"You didn't say you could make it too."

He'd just shared a big part of his growing up with me. I just had to do the same.

"That was the first time."

"The first time you wanked?"

"No, the first time I've made spunk."

"Wow." He paused. "Then that's two firsts. One for you and one for me."

"Yes." I smiled at him happily, loving my little brother with all my heart. "Yes, it is."

We dried. He dressed. He went to bed. So did I. Full of the events of the last two nights which had been capped by what happened just now. It was so sweet, James' fist time, and it was so satisfying, my first seed. And Mark, and all.....

I slept well.

It was inevitable that he also woke me in the morning. The door opened quietly, but it woke me, and the next thing he was burrowing into my bed, stark naked as usual, pushing his body chilled by the run downstairs against my warm one and making me protest.

"Thought you liked me here."

"You're cold."

"I was before I got in."

"You're making me cold."

"You'll get warm soon."

It was also inevitable that I had a morning stiffness about me, about which I could do nothing. Well, I could, but it didn't seem the time then.

He lay there for a while, getting warm. I thought about him last night, about Mark the night before, and wondered what I was doing. When was I going to find a girl who attracted me, or who I attracted?

It was also inevitable that we went sailing again. I asked my parents if we could sleep on the island again, but they weren't keen. I knew how best to persuade them over something, and didn't push it. You ask one day and accept the result. You ask more keenly the next day, and really push hard. And if the result's the same, that's it. Nothing will work and you'll have to do it without them knowing.

So we went to the island, and hung around lazily -- wearing nothing, of course -- and still they didn't appear.

"Shall we go over there?" asked James, hopefully.

"Perhaps they don't want us."


"Dunno. Perhaps they aren't even there today."

We kept on looking for approaching boats, not just to see if it was them, but to ensure we were out of the way if it was full of strangers. We'd had lunch, when at last a boat put out from their island, and although we hid we were pretty certain it was one of them. It was Joe and Hannah.

"We've been wondering if you've gone off us!" exclaimed Hannah as soon as they were in earshot. "We thought you'd come over first thing if you could. It was only when Mark used his binoculars to check that we saw you on the beach. Don't you want to come over?

"We didn't know if we were invited," I said. "But yes, we hoped we could."

"Of course you're invited. Any time you want, so long as we're there. Come on, get your boat and follow us. We've got something special going on this afternoon."

"What?" asked James.

"You'll see. You can join in. In fact you might be able to, too, Martin."

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling. Come on!"

And with that they were off.

We got a great welcome. In fact I felt silly knowing that we'd waited on the other island all morning. They called us all together, all those under about 18, and started to explain about the competition. It was very simple: who could devise the most clever, the best looking, the most intricate, the most effective, the best applied, scheme of body painting. There were four groups, up to 7, 8-11, 12-15, 16-18.

To cut a long discussion short, about whether or not I, at fourteen, wanted to go in for a competition like that, I got Mark, Billy got James, and the others were also suitably paired up. Ralph was particularly lucky, I thought: he got a very good looking girl of fifteen who seemed very attached to him. I wondered why we'd not seen much of him during the time we'd been together. As he was my age, I was quite jealous. But although she was good looking, I really didn't find her, well, sort of WOW-attractive.

Mark did the design, I'm glad to say, as I had no experience at all. I was going to be a tiger. The face was quite intricate, and tickled a lot when he was doing the fine lines. The chest was OK except being painted under the arms. The abstract patterns up the legs were OK too, but when he got to the top of the thighs and started staring me straight in the willy...well, it's difficult when your canvas will neither stay still nor stay the same size. We both burst out laughing, and as he tried to paint it it tickled so much I nearly fell over. He painted my bottom, too, and held the cheeks apart whilst the bristles tickled me there. I wriggled like fury to get away from him, but he held me still and persisted. He painted right between the two bits of my bum, right up to the hole, or at least it felt like it. And it had really given me a hard willy.

"There!" he exclaimed as the brush finally stopped its torture. He stood back.

"Gosh, that's good. You're going to win tonight."

"You mean we're going to win. You painted me."

"Yeah, all right. But that'll be a first."

"How many times have you done this?"

"Oh, a few. But nobody else has wanted to stand still with me like you have. Most of them didn't want their willy painted, or their bum, and as most of them were a year older than me they started getting fidgety when I got to the top of their thighs."

"Should I have done?"

"No! that's what made it possible. You were great. I expected your willy would be difficult, but I managed 'cos you didn't mind."

"You've touched it before."


"There's no one here."

"I know. But don't go telling everybody. That's our secret."

I thought. My chain of thought branched.

"What am I going to do about this?" I pointed to my still hard erection, which he had painted pure black.

"Don't touch it. If you do it'll come off."

"But I can't get judged with it stiff!"

"It won't be by then."

"How do you know?"

"It won't, that's all."

"But I've got to be back by seven!"

"Seven? But I thought you were here for the evening."

"No. I tried, but Mum said I'd got to be back."

"But the competition isn't judged 'til six."

"I won't get back in time."

"Can't you phone again?"

"The weather's perfect, though."

"But if you explain..."

"No. If I do, they'll never let me back here for a night, which is what I want."


I didn't answer.

"Do you want us to play again?"

It was a direct question. I'd hoped he already knew the answer. I nodded.


We made our way in silence back to the main building. Sure enough, by the time I got there I had deflated a bit. As I went in, all eyes were on me, and one or two exclamations were heard. I'm not used to being admired, and for the first time on the island I started to feel naked. And naked in public, too. Which, as I was hidden by paint, was illogical. I was glad to join the rest, even if their congratulations were rather too energetic.

"We were beginning to wonder what you two were up to, said Mrs Rogers. "I can see, now."

Her son looked at her strangely, but there was nothing in her face to show any problem.

"The trouble is, Mum, they don't start judging the competition until six, and Martin and James have to be back an dressed for dinner at seven-thirty."

"Oh!" She looked genuinely distressed. "And it's such a good effort, too. Can't we get your group judged first?"

"They might," said the Doctor. "I'll ask. Or I could try phoning your parents again."

"I don't think it'd work, sir," I said. "I already asked if I could stay, this morning. And I couldn't."

"Well, I wouldn't want to go against that," he said. "But I'll try to arrange an early judging."

He managed that. And sharp on six o'clock Mark's and my age group was called.

The painted ones had to walk up onto the stage, go slowly across, turn, go to centre stage and turn right round, then walk to the steps we'd come up, and join the others there in a line.

I was second on, and by this time my knees were shaking. How could I, a normal boy, get onto a stage and show off my naked body to an audience, naked though they were too? I had reckoned without Mark. He more or less pulled me to my feet and marched me to the bottom of the steps.

"Good luck," he whispered. I thought he was going to kiss me.

A bit shakily I climbed onto the stage and walked as slowly as my embarrassment would allow to the other side. As I turned, I felt that something was happening to me, something that had been happening to me for months since I was half way through being thirteen.

I was getting stiff.

I almost stumbled where I was. What could I do? Get it over with? Leap off the stage? Run to the boat and home?

Very deliberately I walked to the middle of the stage, getting stiffer all the time. I turned, as required, first to show the back view, then very quickly the front, then turned and walked back the way I'd come. Yet even then I couldn't hide it. If I turned toward the audience they'd see, yet waiting at the bottom of the steps was a girl who was on next, and at the beginning of the line was a boy who was looking at me and grinning.

No way out. Fuck it, I suddenly thought if they want to see me in rampant mode, they can. I was now at full stretch, and I wobbled my way over to stand beside the first boy, whose own willy was also starting to react, I was glad to say.

One by one they came up. Nobody else got stiff, and mine went down as quickly as it had come up.

I won. Mark joined me on stage to accept the applause, then we went down to our seats and to more applause and congratulations.

They judged James next. He didn't win.

"Can you stay for the parade?" the Doctor asked. The clock said 6.50. If it had been just me getting into trouble I'd have agreed, but it was the scantily designed James as well. They had almost decided not to enter him, `cos the brush had tickled him so much every line on him was a disaster. But then he'd apparently been in hysterics all afternoon, and at one time had even relieved himself without wanting to, leaving a wet streak down one leg. And this itself had fuelled the laughter....

I had to go. With him. We found the public showers, and helped by Mark and Billy we got the paint off. The rubbing, though, caused the usual problem, and getting back into my fairly tight old shorts was a bit awkward and painful.

By the time we'd got back, apologised, changed and apologised again we were only twenty minutes late.

Popularity was not ours, though. I didn't ask about staying overnight on the island. There's a time and a place...

"I'm tired," said James, after about an hour of cards and chat in the hotel lounge. His parents looked at him in surprise.

"It's not late, darling," said his mother. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes. Just tired. It's wonderful being on the island, but quite tiring. It'd be nice if we could stay."

"Well, you can't really. I mean, an emergency is one thing, but to inflict yourself onto someone else is wrong."

"But they've told us that we can if we want."

"Then they're very nice. But anyway, it mainly depends on Martin and his parents."

"But they'd let him if you let me. He's older than me, and he looks after me."

She smiled. "I know he does, and I'm very grateful, and very glad you're both having such a good time. But what he does is up to his parents, not to your father and me."

Mum had been listening. "It's not so much that he'd be away from us, Doreen, it's just that we've paid for his room and everything here, and it seems such a waste if he doesn't use it."

"That's true, Mary. I hadn't thought of it that way. But at least we'd not be paying anything extra if they did sleep over there."

"Hmm. Yes. I hadn't thought of it that way."

I could see that she was being swayed without my doing anything.

"And it would stop us worrying about them being late back." Oops. I thought she'd forgotten that. Dad laughed.

"How would it be if we spoke to Doctor what's-his-name...."

"Rogers." I put in.

"Dr. Rogers or his wife and checked it out with them."

I got up hurriedly, mumbled something like "Excuse me," and left the room. Safely out of their hearing I let the tears of laughter run down my face as I hugged myself, shaking. The picture had entered my mind of my mother chugging her way to the island, to be met by a naked Doctor Rogers and his wife and naked children. It wasn't so much that, but the look that would be on her face as she tried to look somewhere other than at them.

When I recovered, I returned to see an animated James talking to my parents. He was telling them that we'd try to get one of the parents, the Rogers' or the Camerons, to come over and talk to them.

"Or we could take Dad over to the island," I said hopefully.

"I think it'd be better to ask them to visit us," said my father, quickly.

"OK. I'll ask tomorrow."

And with that we went upstairs. Yes, it was early. Yes, I was entitled to stay up far longer than James. But I'd come to regard us both as the same age, in some respects. Anyway, I wanted to be there so we could shower together as usual. It just seemed right.

"That's good," he said as we sat on my bed.

"What, getting permission to sleep over there?"


"You did that well."

"It was by accident, really."

"Good accident."

"What made you go off suddenly?"

I thought back and remembered, and told him.

"I wonder what my parents would do," he thought.

"Probably faint."

He giggled.

"Will you be sleeping with Mark again?"

"I hope so," I said without thinking.

"What's wrong with me?"

I did a mental stumble.

"Oh, nothing...nothing. But I can sleep with you any time."

"Until we go home."

Damn. I'd forgotten that he wasn't actually my young brother, that we had to go our separate ways.

"I know, but you can sleep with Billy."

"He snores."

"Well, pinch his nose, then."

"I do. He shuts up for a bit, then starts again."


"And I like being with you."

There was no answer to that. I like being with him. But it was different from the charged atmosphere with Mark.

"Look," I said desperately. "When we're on the island I'll share with Mark, and when we're here I'll share with you, if you want."

"Every night?"

I sighed. The end of peaceful mornings and waking up slowly.

"Every night, if you want."

"And tonight?"

"All right."

He bounced up and down. I had to like him, despite my reservations about mornings.

We were just getting undressed to have a shower when there was a knock at the door. I hastily pulled my shorts up again. James was already in pants.

"Come in," I called. It was mum.

"Hallo. Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to Martin. I was going to in here, but I can see that's a bit awkward. Can I borrow him for a moment, James?"

He grinned at her.

She laughed and ruffled the boy's hair as we passed. We went down the spiral staircase to the hotel's corridor, and found two chairs.

"I've been talking to your father."


"He's been telling me about when you took him to that nudist island."


"I was a bit surprised that you could even take off your clothes in public. And that he could. I mean, you won't in front of us normally, and we're your parents."

I looked uncomfortable. "It's....different, somehow." Something else obvious struck me. "And anyway, you and Dad are never naked when I'm going to bed."

"I should think not."

"Well, everybody is on the island."

"But to suggest that your father and I should be naked in front of you..."

"I'm not. But you think that I shouldn't mind being naked in front of you."

"But we're your parents."

"What difference does it make?"

A pause. "Martin, that's very hurtful. We're family. I gave you birth. I've seen your body grow all these years. And it's just wrong that now you're getting older you hide it away when we could be so helpful if it's not growing right."

"But it is. And yes, I'm getting older. I don't like my body being looked at by people who aren't themselves undressed."

She thought for a moment.

"Well, what I came to tell you was what Dad and I were talking about." A pause. "You see, when you were on the island together, he did see you naked, obviously. And he's said that there's nothing wrong with you at all, that your body is completely normal. And...."

Another pause.

"He says that he can state definitely that I was wrong the other day."

I thought back. What was she talking about? It was obviously embarrassing her.

"When I said what I did about puberty and you."

"Oh...that." The smarting humiliation came back to me.

"Yes, that. Darling, I shouldn't have said it. I realise how tactless it was of me, now. And in front of others, too. But the main thing was, that I was wrong, as your father pointed out."

"What do you mean?"

"You've more than started. You're going through it."


"Yes, I know, I've embarrassed you again. But at least this time it's just us, and I am apologising to you. I really am sorry. I should have known better, and shouldn't have had to be told so by your father. But I promise you it's all just between you, me and Dad now. Nobody else. All right?"

I nodded. I was still embarrassed, but it was a family embarrassment, not a public humiliation. And that was acceptable. Just.

We kissed and I returned to the bedroom. He was in the shower, luxuriating in the hot water. Suddenly I felt at one with the world. I undressed quietly, got in the shower behind him and just started by putting my hands over where his tits would be if he had any. He looked round quickly, to make sure it was me, then just laid back against me, trustingly. All my feelings for him came back.

We exercised ourselves in the shower, and both enjoyed it. To my delight my body proved that the previous night hadn't been a one-off, and that I really had started my sexual career. And once again I watched James' body jerking with the sensations which were still so new to him, and thrilled him deeply, and made him want more, and make me wish, somehow, I could be a part of it for him.

He didn't bother going to his room.


When I awoke I had my back to him, but there was an arm draped round my shoulder and a tickling on my back where he was breathing. It felt good. I wondered what the time was. Six-thirty. Time to go back to sleep again. Carefully I turned over, but not carefully enough. The eyes flickered open and the immediate startled look was swiftly replaced by a languid smile.

I don't know why, but I felt my body starting to react at such a greeting. If it'd been Mark I'd have known why. It would have been the promise of a lot of physical contact and the slow development of that physical pleasure between us. But James? Nine-year-old James? Not really, surely? It wouldn't be right. But he enjoyed his new-found pleasure, so perhaps..... No. Too young. Unfair to him.

So I put my arm over him, too, and he smiled even more and wriggled closer until we were hugging. My willy was stiff, sandwiched between our bellies, and he looked surprised and giggled as he realised what it was.

"Martin's stiff again!"

"I know, I know. Is James?"

"Don't think so."

"Then I'd better make James stiff."

He giggled, and wriggled his middle away again. I thought he was trying to escape what I had threatened, so I went no further.

"Aren't you going to, then?"

"What? Make you stiff?"

"You said you were."

Well, what could I do? The arm over his shoulders traced its way down his chest, down his belly, till it found the little target. Then very gently I started tracing my finger tips round it, down onto the balls and back again, whilst all the time he made mewing sounds with the tickling sensations and wriggled at the side of me like a trapped animal. He turned so his back was towards me, but my hand followed him and continued, and at last the mewing of the tickling changed to the silence of fondling. He had quickly become stiff, but I wasn't about to stop. I took the top of him between finger and thumb and started the strokes.

"Oh...." He sounded surprised.

"Don't you want me to?"


Now as we were lying there, his bottom came down to just below my waist. It was very close to the tip of my own stiffness, so as he wriggled a bit we contacted, and I could feel that there was a slipperiness between us. He never noticed at the time, though. It took a few minutes only before he jerked in my arms, bring his bottom into contact with me again briefly, and then lay quiet with the usual deep breathing.

I felt totally in control of him. I felt I could protect him against all dangers the world had to throw.

We lay quietly until he had recovered, in contact all the way down his body. He turned at last and looked at me seriously.

"Doesn't it wear it out?"

"Why should it?"

"All that rubbing."

"Mine hasn't."

"How long have you been doing it?"

"Ages. At least a year."


A pause. "Do you want me to do you?"

"D'you want to?"

"Yes. I want to see what happens."

"You want to see...."

But he'd already thrown back the coverings as he turned over again to face me, exposing me to the cool morning air. He wriggled down the bed, and I took the opportunity to lie flat on my back. So he was covered and warm, only his arms out of the bed, and I was exposed from the top of the thighs upwards. A good deal?

He may only have operated on himself twice, and had me operate on him just then, but he had learnt. He was very gentle. Well, most of the time. As he progressed and things started to overtake me the occasional uncoordinated pull that would normally have made me yell didn't have the same pain attached to it.

What with having done him, and with all that bodily contact, it took me quite a short time, and like him, I gasped and bucked in the bed. As I started, he stopped, and I just yelled at him to go on as the main thrusts wouldn't have come if he didn't.

It wasn't one of the best ones I'd had, but he was one of only two people who had done it for me, and I was grateful. Next time he'd know not to pause as I started.

I had to stop him wiping his hand on the sheets. He went to the toilet instead. I hoped the rest of it wouldn't show on the bedding.

We went back to sleep.

That morning we were actually on time for breakfast, despite having yet another shower. We went straight to the naturist island and found them in a morning laze around. I spoke to Dr. Rogers. He said that he'd come over with us that evening and see if we could stay on the island on Thursday, if we wanted. "On Saturday we go," he said with a grimace, "so Friday night's out of the question, I'm afraid."

That was a blow. I felt it in my solar plexus, just as if I'd been lightly winded by something. No more Mark, unless I could go and visit them. I realised that I didn't know where they lived. I'd have to get their address.

The day offered us archery, table tennis, proper tennis, volleyball, swimming, and free snorkelling in the afternoon. We did the lot. It was great.

In the late afternoon Dr. Rogers suggested that we leave early, and he'd try to persuade our parents to let us come back that night. With a mixture of regret and anticipation we got dressed and waited in the dinghy for him. When he appeared we hardly recognised him; he and his wife were not only clothed, but fully clothed and smart. They climbed into the motor boat and followed us out.

Because of the wind we couldn't sail direct to the mainland of course. So after trying to keep station with us for some time Dr. Rogers came alongside and announced he'd take his wife to wander round the shops and would see us when we landed.

Together the four of us made our way to the hotel. Sod's law dictated that neither set of parents was there, so I thought it'd be all right to buy them -- and us -- drinks. It was during our second one that they all came trooping in and were surprised to see their respective sons acting as hosts.

It was going on my parents' bill, anyway.

My father was the only one to have met Dr. Rogers, but he hadn't met Mrs Rogers. So the introductions were a bit difficult to follow. They got there eventually. It all seemed to be adult talk and boring, so I wondered if they'd forgotten why I'd got Mr Rogers back. I kept trying to butt in, but was constantly being verbally run over by one or other of them. Eventually Dad took me on one side and suggested we go and shower, and said that they'd get round to it soon, and we'd get told later.

Well, I couldn't hurry them up, we were both getting frustrated by the whole thing, and I wanted a pee.

We wandered off. To my room, inevitably. I threw myself onto the bed in disgust at the slow ways of adults and wondered what'd happen if my lot said no. I wasn't there to persuade them. I'd just have to go on my own. But what about James? I couldn't leave him in the room -- my room -- asleep alone. And it'd mean getting back very early in the morning.

We had a shower. An ordinary one. Well, it started off like that, but when you have someone showering every part of your body and fooling about with bits of it, then things sort of develop. And so we each enjoyed ourselves again.

But I wished it'd been Mark. I was very conscious that we would each be going our separate ways soon. And I still didn't know where he lived.

By the time we got downstairs again we found the Rogers' had been asked to stay to dinner. We had our permission to stay overnight on the island on the Thursday, but they thought it was too late for that night. I felt an impatient pang of frustration, but couldn't say anything 'cos I'd make up for it the following night. It was hard. The idea of the following night made it that way.

Despite our disappointment, we enjoyed dinner. All six adults seemed to hit it off, and the stories got more and more outlandish. I think the more staid residents in the hotel were astonished at the hilarity that was coming from the big table of eight, hilarity that continued over coffee and liqueurs in the lounge. They seemed to be enjoying themselves.

I nodded to James and had a quick word with Dad. We went out into the garden and just stood, breathing in the fresh air after the lounge's smoky atmosphere.

"Tomorrow," I said softly.


"Just thinking."

"What about?"

"Oh....things. What we're going to do tomorrow."

"I bet you'll be with Mark."

"I'll be with everybody."

"Mark most, though."

"Well, he's a friend."

"Aren't I?"

I just looked at him. The Grin was almost all buttoned up, and I felt sorry for him.

"Yes.....yes. More of a friend than.....oh.....anyone at school."

It unbuttoned a lot. "That's all right then. 'Cos you're my best friend."

I just had to put an arm round his shoulders. And there we stood, just watching the moonlit seascape, and the islands, and where Mark was.

But I was with my kid brother.

They were still at it when we'd had enough of drinking in the atmosphere, but as we walked in Dad beckoned us over, and somehow interrupted the flow of chat. I wished I'd seen how he did it. I know that I couldn't get myself a hearing if I'd tried.

"Sorry. I wanted to talk to these two before either of them went upstairs. Before you both go to the island tomorrow, can I make a plea? Can I go sailing again with you, Martin? And will you come too, James? I know you want to get to see your friends, but it'd be lovely if your poor old Dad could have a bit of sailing too. I'd ask mum along too, but I know she's not into boats, and certainly not sailing. You could take me snorkelling again afterwards too, if we can?

"Certainly," said Dr. Rogers.

I couldn't refuse. I just grinned at him, knowing now that he was on my side. "Ok, Dad. All right with you, James?"

"You bet."

"As soon after breakfast as you like, then. Mum's going round the town with Mrs Roberts, so they'll be happy. And you can sail me back in the late afternoon, please Martin, and then go back and spend the night and the next day on the island as we agreed. So long as you're back for dinner on the Friday."

"That's great, Dad. Thanks."

And so we rushed upstairs, at a time somewhere between his bedtime and mine. And we hugged each other on the bed, before and after getting undressed.

Once again he woke me early the next morning. I just turned over and laid on my back, but I could sense that he was looking at me. I took no notice, but still the feeling continued. At last I felt the warmth of his face approach mine, I opened my eyes to see his head approaching mine, the eyes serious, the mouth with a hint of a smile.....

And the lips met mine full on, and kissed me.


He drew away, and suddenly looked scared. I looked at him, and slowly his face started to crumble towards tears. I felt astonished, not by the kiss but by his breaking down.

"I'm sorry," he sniffed. "That was wrong. I'm sorry. Please don't send me away."

I carried on looking at him, not knowing what was wrong. But there came a point where I couldn't just lie there and see him miserable in front of me any more.

"Come here," I commanded, and put my arm out flat so he could lie on it and be hugged. With hesitation he came toward me, looking at my face like a snake to try and see what I was thinking. Apart from needing to comfort him I didn't really know myself. But once he had again rested his head near mine and my upper arm had gone round his shoulders, I knew.

"James.....don't be scared. I'm not angry. And thank you."


"For kissing me."

"I thought....when you looked at thought....."

"You thought I didn't want you to? Well, I didn't know you were going to, so I was surprised. But it was nice of you. And I feel.....proud that you did."


"Because it shows that me."

He said nothing, but snuggled up close again.

We slept, but at least this time woke up in time to be first down to breakfast. Dad was there soon after, and was in one of the best moods I'd seen him in. Not that he was usually down, but he was obviously on a high this morning. We ate companionably, and were leaving just as mum arrived, with James' parents soon after. The receptionist was surprised to see us so early for our packed lunches, but at least they were ready.

The morning's sail was glorious -- my father's word, but he was right. Once we had each shown how well we could sail he took the helm himself. Once again he made the dinghy sing through the water far faster than I would have liked to with James on board, and really got us jumping about, trimming the jib, raising and lowering the centreboard, hanging over the side to balance her.....

By the time we reached `our' island we were all soaked with spray, tired, had our hands raw with water and rope, but were exhilarated beyond words. Dad sailed almost up to the beach, at his command both sails came down simultaneously and were stowed as tidily as we could, just as the dinghy nosed herself onto the sloping beach. James jumped out with the anchor, we all followed to help pull her up the beach, and made her fast.

It must have looked really slick.

"Ok," said my shy, retiring father. "Last one to have any clothes on buys the beers."

He was wearing underwear, we weren't. He lost.

We crossed the island, the three of us, and swam from the south facing beach as usual. Dad was so much in carefree mode that I think he started treating us as his Navy colleagues. He ducked James, who didn't mind. He fought with me -- not violently -- and used some real Navy words when I got the better of him once. And as we all flopped in the shallows to rest he announced to the world that he was "fucking hungry!" Immediately he realised who was there and blushed and apologised. But we were too occupied trying to control our laughter to listen.

So then he became my father again, but a light-mooded version of him. He laughed at himself and his slip into Navy vernacular, and attacked the packed lunches. James and I laid one either side of him and ate ravenously.

We rested afterwards. Lying naked, by the side of your father who has just proved that he's actually a normal human being, is an experience. I'd never felt closer to him in spirit than then.

We were startled by the sound of a motor boat, and all looked up. It was the Rogers family, fortunately without my mother by now.

"Bloody.... I mean Gosh! What's the time?" said Dad.

"Haven't the faintest, my watch is in the hotel."

"I'd better run," he said. "Your mother'll be wondering if we're all drowned."

I'd forgotten that aspect of it, but I didn't want him to go. "Can't you phone from the island?"

"Not fair on her, old chap. Nothing would please me more to stay with my son and his friend, playing about as if we were all fourteen. But I'm married, and I have a duty to be there. And it's just well that I am."


"'Cos if I wasn't, you'd not be alive. And I'd be the poorer for that." And he jumped up, waved at the Rogers', and ran back through the woods. "Explain to them for me, would you?" he shouted as he vanished into the trees.

"He doesn't want to be seen naked by them!" James exclaimed as we settled down again. I said nothing. Suddenly I felt bereft. It had been such a morning! Why did it have to end?

But we got a tremendous welcome from them all. I explained to the Doctor that we had no idea of the time, and Dad had suddenly realised, and rushed off.

"That's OK," he said. "Mary thought he'd probably be so engrossed in sailing with you that he'd be late. She knows he's a good sailor and wasn't worried. But how're you going to get back tomorrow? He's taken the dinghy, hasn't he?"

"Oh.....yes. I'd not realised." We'd be marooned, I thought. We'd have to stay there until winter, and every day would be something new, all those activities could be mine to play with..... But there'd be nobody else there that I knew, apart from James. Oh. Not such a good idea. Although the idea of no school, and spending the time with my little brother was very attractive.

"Hallo," said Mark.

And as soon as I looked at those dark eyes my brain changed track completely.

As we were making ready to leave for the island where we'd be spending the night some thoughts crossed my mind. James and I were naked, all our clothes and the few night things we'd brought were in the boat, which was sailing back towards the village with my father. I was about to say something rude when the dinghy rounded the north shore of the island, once again being sailed as if in a race. I was dead impressed, and I could tell the others were too when he sailed straight at us at full speed, turned at the last minute to bring the boat head to wind, and came to something like a stop a few yards away from the motor boat.

"You'd better have these," he said as he threw our small bags over to be caught by the Doctor. "I've stuck the clothes in that you wore here, so you'll not be savages when you come back. I'll fetch you late tomorrow afternoon. OK?"

"Thanks Dad! OK," I called back, and James shouted something as well.

Once again the naturists' island was welcoming and fun. James went around quite happily with Billy and Rose, and it was fun watching the three of them getting up to all sort of mischief together, quite happily, quite safely, and entirely naturally. How anybody can say that naturism is for perverts or that nudism is wrong, I couldn't see then and still can't now.

And Mark and me? Oh, we were playing too. No, outside. We did a lot more snorkelling, and were getting quite good at it. He and I guided each other through the underwater rocks and weeds, and got away from the main crowd. To know we were alone, completely alone under water, was really exciting. Sometimes we would find an almost enclosed, underwater pool, with no company apart from a few small fish, some crabs, and the waving weed. We would just look at each other, dive, and connect our bodies together in a hug in the middle of this natural grotto.

To get rid of the day's salt, we naturally went to his cabin to shower. He adjusted the temperature of the water while I just watched him with this feeling in my willy that I was going to start getting bigger any minute. He looked round at me, and smiled, and beckoned. To get under the water I had to get really close to him, and we were so close that our bodies were once again touching everywhere. The balls of my feet were on his, our knees touched, then after a gap our thighs touched, our willies were pressed together, our hip bones were touching, our bellies, and chest were together, and our shoulders. I looked him straight in the eye with only two inches between us.....

And we just looked, as the water coursed down.

I read somewhere that the eyes are the mirror of the soul.

Our souls were together in those moments. Mine was watching his, and his, I hoped, was watching mine. Since I'd been young I'd looked at only one other human in the same way: that was my mother. But this was different. This was my own discovery. A human I had chosen, and who had chosen me. And in that long moment I knew that I knew everything about him.

And the moment stretched out and onward, and still we just looked into each other's eyes. I was normally very bad at eye contact, but most of that was to avoid other boys knowing that I might find them attractive. With him, he knew that I found him attractive, and he thought the same about me. So to look straight into those deep, dark pools of dancing light was......right.

Once again, after that part of the magic had passed, we explored each other with hands. Everywhere. Slowly. And no one came to interrupt us. And of course we got excited; and we rubbed our excited bodies together. And the sensation made us both wet and slippery despite the shower water. And this time I knew that I could do for him what he had done for me the last time.

I knelt, and took him gently in my mouth. I played, I pulled back on the foreskin, I tongued him on the exposed end and lapped at it. I took it as far in to my mouth as I could. And all the time the sounds of absolute bliss from above me were fine music. At last I knew that I had to help him further, and started using my hand on the bit of it nearest his curly hair. And the music grew louder and more urgent, until I felt him stiffen even more, heard a soft shout from above, and felt his gift to me, his ultimate personal gift, hit the tongue that I had put in the way.

I swallowed hurriedly. Without having come myself I could accept this, although it tasted vinegary and oily. But I knew that it was more than a taste: it was Mark. And that made it not just acceptable, but welcome.

Now we were brothers -- more than brothers. I was a brother to James, although he wasn't in my thoughts at the time. What was Mark to me? My closest, best friend? I didn't know. But I knew that I wanted him with me, daily.

Before he had recovered I looked outside at the clock.


"Martin.....what did you do.....I've never......."

"Mark, it's half past seven!"


"We're meant to have been ready for a meal at seven!"

"Oh sod...Martin.....thank you....thank you more than I can say." Was there water in his eyes or were those tears?

I smiled at him, but said nothing, just in case.

"Will you wait 'til later?" he said.

"What for? Oh....oh yes. Please."

I wondered how my body was going to settle down before we had to go outside again. I had visions of it staying that way all the way to the main building, all through dinner, and all the rest of the evening. An accidental one was acceptable, the doctor had said so. But a permanent one?

Hastily we dried off. There was no time for anything mutual, we just got reasonably dry as quickly as possible, then rushed out to air dry the rest.

We were late, but apart from a quizzical look from the doctor to his son, nothing was said.

We joined in the family's booking of two lanes of the new ten-pin bowling place they'd just finished building. It was very popular, so much so that they'd only got on it twice before. Once they'd explained how the scoring worked I wasn't too bad; nothing incredible, but adequate. James chose almost the lightest ball he could find, and amazed us all by getting a strike with his first attempt.

"It's quite easy," he said, more in hope than fact, I thought.

It was a fun evening, and very good to see so many boys my age and near it just relaxing naturally, no clothes, no inhibitions, appendages swinging, bums bending with the effort of bowling. Not exactly stiffening material but very close. But then I had my own special friend for that.

At last we'd finished, and were taken back for a drink with the family. James, Rose and Billy were all yawning, and were sent off to bed: surprisingly none of them made any complaint. I didn't want to be the first to suggest that Mark and I should go, yet I was so much looking forward to our play session.

At last he yawned and looked at the time and announced he was off to bed. It was more or less expected that I would go too, although I'd not said anything.

"I'll look in on you later, shall I?" asked his mother.

"It's all right, mum. We'll be OK. We're big boys now."

"I know....well, if you're sure."

"We'll be fine, mum. Goodnight."

There was a chorus of goodnights from all those left, and I joined in politely.

Once outside we stopped and looked around at the world. It was a dead flat calm, the sky was clear, the moon was full and casting our shadows sideways, and it was still warm.

He looked at me with those dark, gently smiling eyes.

"How about a bit of a walk before we go in?"

I just nodded. All I wanted was for him to get close to me. But if he wanted to...well, why not?

He led the way round the island, toward one of the coves where we had been snorkelling. The woods we walked through were carpeted with pine needles which made no sound under our bare feet, and we saw movements from the corner of our eyes which half scared, half intrigued us. We arrived at the deserted, silent cove which in the moonlight looked magical. We stopped as it opened before us and just looked. As if in a dream I felt his arm go round my waist. I followed suit. And once again we just watched, drinking in this incredible moonlit beauty, aware of each other and physically contacting, yet content with a different achievement of nature.

"Shall we swim?" I whispered, at last.

He nodded. Together we walked slowly down to the water and each of us, at the same moment, tested its temperature with a toe. Surprised by this simple coincidence we looked at each other and just smiled. I kissed him. It seemed the right thing to do.

We walked in, and were surprised at how warm the water felt after the cool the evening. Without a mask seeing under water was not too effective, but we saw the rocks and weeds and the sandy bottom, all lit by the shimmering, cold light of the moon.

If the beauty on the surface silenced me, then to see all this, alone with someone whose company I wanted and craved, who held out the promise of a pleasure I still couldn't understand fully, made my heart want to burst with emotion.

We swam slowly around the cove, rediscovering the pools we had visited earlier in the sunlight, diving from time to time. But all good things have to end sometime, and the cold started finally to get to us. We swam to the shore.

"Bed?" he said in a whisper.

"Together." I whispered back.

We ran back through the woods.

Once again in the shower we explored each other, and he was cradling my balls in his hand whilst gently stroking my stiffness when the water started to get colder....and colder.... It had an effect on me, and on him. We both made disappointed noises as it really got too uncomfortable, and eventually made a rapid exit from the shower. We stood laughing at each other, by that time shivering.

"I'll dry you," he said.

"We can dry each other."

"Come on."

We each got towels and just set to work. There was no fondling now, we were each too cold again. We just needed to get warm and the best way of doing it was to scrub at each other. But with the back and forth movements of the towels returned the stiffness to our willies, not from fondling or the thought of play this time, but just from repeated motion.

Dry at last, and each with our mast before us, we clambered onto the bed and pulled the covers over, our teeth chattering again with the coldness of the sheets.

"Come here," he whispered.

Well, that was what I wanted, wasn't it?

As I wriggled toward him the first thing I encountered was a hand under my balls again, and as we made contact the other arm went around me, pulling me closer in a hug. With his contact everywhere on my body I heaved a sigh of happiness -- not the first of the night -- which made him shiver as it blew across his chest.

I laughed. He squeezed my testicles gently together. I put my arm between his legs and started my own voyage of exploration....

I wanted it never to stop. The sensations of his hands once again feeling everywhere, all over me, were intense. I felt safe, cared for and yes, loved.

By a boy?

The thought slipped into and out of my mind as his hands travelled over me.

Soon I felt him shift, and the mouth opened around my left nipple which was massaged by his tongue -- surprisingly strongly. Then he lent over to attend to the right one, so resting his body on mine. I thought I wouldn't be able to stand his weight as he was quite a bit heavier than me. But all it did was to make me feel even closer to him spiritually. His willy against my leg was wet and slippery, and I thought he'd peed on me. But then I remembered the clear stuff that came out of it, and knew it was all right. By the feel of it my own wretched little body was starting to do the same.

At last he moved off my chest, leaving both nipples damp but very aroused, and put his mouth round my belly button. This received the same treatment, and he sucked at it too, for some moments. Then his mouth moved downwards and I felt his tongue playing with the whisps which were my apology for pubic hair.

But he seemed to like them. Who was I to argue? My willy was stroking his neck as he attended to them, and then....and then came that moment. He put his mouth over me and drew me in. All in one go. The end of it hit the back of his throat, he was so intent on pushing toward me.

"Ohhh...." What a stupid word it looks written. But the sensations at the time were overcoming me and had defeated any normal speech.

The hands came up under me, one under the balls to massage me there and sending me into even further realms of delight, and the other wormed its way under me to spread as far as it could over my buttocks.

I was completely under his control. I thought back to be cared for as a baby by my mother. I would have been held as intimately as this then, though not in the same way, and never so gloriously or so long. And while that had been love and biological necessity the other was....what? I still instinctively balked at giving it a name. It wasn't play, it was more. It wasn't exploration, it was certainly far more. What was making him do it and making me enjoy it? Enjoy! There's an inadequate word!

Time passed, and still he worked at me. Every time his tongue massaged the top of my willy I thought it was going to happen, but it never did until his lips came to take over from it, and just pulled up on it, relaxed and pushed down, pulled up, down....and all the time he was managing to keep sucking at me like it was spaghetti, and swallowing. And his breath was blowing straight onto my whispy hair.

And then I felt it start, right from the middle of me, and take hold of every bit of me, and I gave him that little bit of me that was my effort at returning his gift to me earlier. On and on it went, and still he continued, swallowing the more now.

And this time I did faint.

I recall a voice calling me, with mounting anxiety. But I couldn't figure out why. I was absolutely at peace, tired, yes, but as near to heaven as it's probably possible to get. Eventually I came to and found him about to shake me by the shoulders.

"Oh, God," he said. "I thought I was going to have to call Dad."


"I thought you were out for the count."

"No, just resting."

"Silly sod."

I just smiled at him.

"Thanks," I said.

It was his turn to smile.

We turned off the light and I slept again almost immediately. My dreams were of him, and what we had done together, and at one point I dreamed that I was in the middle of doing IT again. How long after that it was I don't know, but I woke, and my willy felt strange, and a bit wet. But I turned onto my stomach so it could dry on the sheets and closed my eyes.

But then, just as I felt as if I was dropping off again I felt a hand on my bum. Just feeling it, carefully, gently, as of it was just following the curves around. I knew it was him, and it was nice. It went on for some time, and then the thin covers were lifted off me, and I felt him move. He was sleeping on his front too -- I could see, because I opened my eyes then, He knelt up, and I could see his willy was stiff again. Slowly he manoeuvred himself so that his arms were either side of me and the swung his leg over me too.

"What....?" I said.

He gave a start, and hurriedly pushed himself over to his side of the bed, but said nothing.

"What're you doing?"





"Shouldn't have."

"Shouldn't have what?"

"Done that."


"You know....that."

"You didn't do anything. Well, you were kneeling on top of me, that's all."

"Yes, but...... Didn't you mind?"

"Not if you want to."

"Weren't you asleep?"

"You woke me when you moved."


"Don't you know what I wanted to do?" This was in such a small voice that I really wondered what was the matter.

"No. Not unless you wanted to sleep on top of me."

"Oh, Martin..... Do you really not know?"

"Know? No, I don't. Know what?"

A pause. "Can I show you?"

"Yes." Well, we'd done a lot else together. I had no idea.

So he sat astride my bum, and to start with our buttocks coincided. I liked that a lot. It was really soft and friendly, private. Yes, as stirring as having our willies together but not with the potential for getting to IT.

But gradually he moved forward until he was lying on top of me, and his stiffness lay in my bum as if it was made to fit, hot, throbbing with the heartbeats I could feel everywhere on him. Slowly he started to move up and down on me, stroking himself along the length of the crack. And again, it was showing really close friendship, but the ultimate private way of showing it. Before too long I felt my skin, unused to being chafed there, was getting rather worn, but he was so intent on what he was doing that I said nothing. But as he progressed it eased off, and instead of the rubbing sensation I felt an oiled sliding movement.

Even in my relaxed, half asleep state I realised that his fluid had started flowing. It was more comfortable for me, so I didn't worry. This kept up for some time, and eventually I got bored with it. I wanted to rub with him, certainly, but could see no future in what he was doing. So I struggled a bit and succeeded in getting him to lift off me enough to let me turn over.

Now, with him in full view, lit by the moon shining through the curtainless window, I could appreciate things much better and add to the fun for both of us. My willy joined his in its excitement, and before long I was once again both covered by his stickiness. But for me, although IT happened, it wasn't nearly as intense as normal, and took a whole lot longer. I didn't know why.

This time we both went and towelled ourselves off rather than make the bed wet and sticky. And also, after this time, we both went to sleep and stayed there.


When we awoke, James was sleeping between us. I didn't know when he arrived there, why he was there, or how he managed to lever us apart to squeeze in. But there he was. I looked at Mark and he looked at me, and we both shrugged theatrically. It was good to have him there, but it meant that we couldn't get close and friendly again.


The thought hit me as a thunderbolt. It was Friday. Tomorrow we had to pack up and go home. I had to be in the hotel tonight. I'd just spent my last night with Mark.

I think he saw the change in my face. "What's the matter?"

"I'm not going to see you again."

"Why not? What've I done?"

"No, no.... I mean I go home tomorrow."

"Oh....yes, I see. But you could come and visit us. We could go camping. I'm in the Scouts and there's a site near us."

I grabbed on that as a lifeline. "Can I."

"Yes, please."


"I'll have to ask Dad, but soon, I hope."

"These holidays?"

"Yes....yes, I expect so. I'm off to camp with the Scouts when I get back, but after that. Look, give me your address and I'll write to you."

"Can I come?" We looked down at the lump between us. James had woken up.

"No," said Mark

"You live too far away," said I. "Which is a pity, 'cos it'd be nice to have you there." I had to add that because I saw the expression on his face.

"Not very far," he protested.

"You're in the north of the country, James, and I live in the south. Mark lives near London."


"So it's OK to come down here to spend two weeks, but not when it's a short camp like we'll be doing."

He was unconvinced.

We lay there for some time, but a wriggling nine-year-old is not an easy companion. "When did you get here?" I asked suddenly, when one of his wriggles had nearly knocked me out of the bed.

"'Bout midnight. Billy snored. I couldn't sleep."

"It must have been later than that. We were still....."

Mark had a coughing fit. James stared at him.

"....talking about then," I finished. Mark looked relieved.

"Well, later then. It was just getting light."

Oh well, he'd not seen anything then. Good.

"I'm going to have a shower," I announced.

"Me too," said one treble and one tenor voice.

So we all three showered. Once again we washed each other, and all three had the usual reaction.

"Do you want to wank?" James asked Mark tactfully.


"Billy told me you showed him, and we had a go, then Martin and I did it. Can we do it now?"

Mark looked at me. I just looked at him and shrugged.

"Why not?" he said.

So we did. And to have the company of not one, but two people who I really felt I knew everything about, was something else. It was a good feeling, not as intense as when it was just Mark or just James, but really relaxed. I really felt that here were two people I could do anything with, say anything to, and they'd understand completely.

One by one it happened for us. I made sure I was last, because I wanted to watch both of them have their moment of bliss. Mark's I found very sexy, as stream after stream shot from him to be washed away by the water coursing over his body. James' I found utterly sweet, once again, as the unaccustomed depth of physical pleasure took him in its grip, leaving him weak kneed. Mine was good, of course, but unspectacular. At least the result was visible and the right colour. I felt I'd better practise hard so I'd get used to making more.

We got to breakfast. One thing about wanking a few times in the day, it makes the likelihood of an accidental and embarrassing stiffness far less likely, and that's important when you're nude. It was a good morning. Although we had no boat there were plenty of activities, and for the first time I tried archery.

I wasn't much good.

Before lunch we went snorkelling again, and this time James, Billy, Joe and Ralph were with us. We were allowed to go without an instructor.

We were passing the landing stage after lunch when I heard an `Ahoy!' from the water. It was Dad. I panicked. I thought he wasn't coming until later, and I'd not said goodbye to anyone. I knew even then that I wanted to say goodbye to Mark when we were alone.

We waited from him to finish one of his impressive mooring moves. He was already talking as the boat glided gently up to the stage, he fended off and stepped casually ashore with the painter.

"Had a good time? Hallo, you lot. Sorry I'm dressed, but they'd take a dim view of my leaving the village without a stitch on. Here, I've got something for you all, a thank you from the Finches and Evanses for looking after our sons. Are your parents around?"

We all greeted him noisily, and I took him to the main building. He left his clothes there, not without some reluctance as it was still very foreign to him. And we went to see Dr Rogers, who was pleased to see him and told him he shouldn't have bought them anything.

"It was good for them all to see other people, and to persuade them that naturists are ordinary human beings after all. And don't forget Martin has taught us more than a bit about lifesaving, and that could be worth more than anything else if it needs to be used."

Dad just looked at him and shook his hand.

I thought it was time I got them moving. "Come on, Dad, we've got time to do some snorkelling, surely?"

"Yes. I was hoping to bring your mother over, too. But she said that noting would persuade her to take everything off in front of other people, even people she knows and likes."

"You're Ok, though?"

"Yes....just about. I'd be happier under water, though."

So we dragged them both off to the coves and pools we'd been exploring, and once again got engrossed in the wonders of the underwater world.

Towards evening the inevitable happened and he said it was time we were going. That silenced me, and I saw Mark standing nearby, absolutely still. I thought desperately.

"Dad, if we go back now, can I come back later and spend the night over here? Please?"

"I'm sorry Martin, we've got a very early start in the morning, and you've got to pack."

"But I can be back early, well in time."

"It's just not on, old son. I know you want to say goodbye to them all, but we really must be sure of getting back at a reasonable time. And that means starting by nine o'clock."

"But if I left here at six I'd be at the hotel by quarter to seven, and that's time to do everything."

"You know what you're like in the mornings. We both know you can't get up that early."

We argued to and fro for some time, but there was no moving him. I think he was beginning to feel the pull of work again.

"All right," I said, rather sulkily. "But I've got to get something from Mark's cabin."

"All right, but don't be long."

I could see Mark was just looking at me, so I beckoned to him with my head. He followed, and as soon as we were out of sight I stopped. James was busy saying his farewells and fortunately didn't follow.

"You meant what you said about that camp in a few weeks?"

"Yeah. Just call me."

"I will. Do you want me to come back tonight?"

"Your Dad says you can't."

"I can get out without them seeing."

"What? And sail over in the dark?"

"Why not?"

"How about James? Don't you sleep together?"

"He can sleep in his own room for a change."

"I don't believe you'd do it."

This was enough for me. It was like a dare.

"Just leave me enough room in the bed. And if you're asleep I'm going to wank you awake."

He gave me a grin, which suddenly faded. I wondered what I'd said. He was silent for a moment.

"You know I wanked you again, last night in your sleep?"

It was my turn for silence.

"I dreamed about sex, I know. But I didn't wake. Oh, Martin....why?"

Another long pause. I looked at him and he was straight faced, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I really am. But you were there, and I wanted to feel you, and I thought you'd wake. But you didn't, and then you just...came. Suddenly."


"Yes. You know. Made spunk. All over me. That's what they call it, `coming'.

"Oh. Um. well, next time, wake me up first so I can enjoy it, will you?"

He looked at me with the most rude grin I'd ever seen on a face.

"You bet."

We carried on walking.

"I still don't believe you'll come."

"What, when you wank me?"

He laughed, and suddenly put his hand around my willy and balls.

"I'll go on wanking you 'til you beg for mercy. No. Tonight."

"Just wait."

And with that he just looked at me, looked around and saw we weren't overlooked, came right up to me and kissed me on the lips.

"Don't let me down."

And he turned and walked away towards his cabin. I stood looking after him, amazed. Amazed at myself for letting him do it, and amazed at him for doing it.

Farewells said, and promises half made that we'd see them again, we sailed back to the mainland. Dad and we two had both dressed by now, of course. This time I was at the helm as it was officially my last sail of the holiday as we were now returning her to the boatyard. It was my turn to show Dad that I'd learnt a thing or two about sailing fast, and I sailed that little dinghy quite hard, as hard as he'd done. I could see him grinning. I judged the approach to town's Hard as well as I could, and with both of them fending off, having lowered the sails at my command, there was not too much of a bump.

"Probably a bit earlier next time, old chap," said my father.

"Ok, Dad."

"I thought you were taking her back to the boatyard, actually. I suppose we could get them to collect her from here, though."

"Oh no," I said quickly. "I'll take her back in the morning, early."

"Sure? It'll have to be very early."

"Can I come?" asked James.

"I'll see," I said.

This would give me a real reason to be out early, before they all realised I'd been out all night.

Dinner that night was a rather quiet affair. We were all tired, and aware that the holiday was more or less at an end. When James was sent upstairs at last there were something very like tears in his eyes.

I followed soon after, on the grounds that I'd get some packing done.

He was in my room, just sitting on the bed. He looked up as I came in.

"I'm not going to see you after tonight."

It was the way he said it that got to me. "Of course you are. Next year -- you'll be coming back, surely?"

"But that's next year. I mean, now."

I wondered if he'd heard Mark and me plotting.

"I'll still be here tomorrow. And there's always letters, and the phone."

"Yes, but....I don't want it to stop."

I sighed. I knew exactly what he meant.

He was too tired for a shower, and I told him he'd get a better night's sleep if he slept in his own room. I said, feeling like a cur, that I'd see him in the morning. He must have been tired, because he went without a murmur. I threw most of my belongings into the suitcase, had a quick shower without bothering about measurements or anything -- after all, I had better things to be doing with it now. I set my alarm clock for midnight. I knew I'd have to take it with me, to make sure I was off the island before anyone woke up.

It seemed that I'd no sooner got to sleep than it was sounding in my ear through the pillow. Quickly I turned it off, and in the darkness stumbled about the room trying to find my shorts, a T-shirt and shoes. Having dressed I quietly let myself out of the room, taking care that neither handle nor door made a noise. I walked slowly, almost on tiptoe down the spiral staircase to the door into the garden. I was as quiet as I knew how with it. It was a heavy thing, and the noise of it slamming would have echoed round the entire building.

Once outside I was exultant. Only on a very few times in my life had I been out on my own this late, and it felt good. Naughty, but really good. It was also quite chilly, and my scant clothing didn't do much about keeping me warm. I made my way carefully out of the hotel's grounds, and being wary of there being anyone in the streets who might query a fourteen year old out at this time of night I padded my way down to the Hard.

The dinghy had gone.

I stood there stupidly looking. But it definitely wasn't there. I wondered what...who....why... What do I do? Call the Police? `And what were you doing up at that time of the morning, sonny? Where are your parents? Where were you going that you needed a boat?' `Please sir, I'm going to spend the night in bed with my friend. He's waiting for me on the naturists' island. And my parents don't know I'm here.' Yeah, the Police would be a really good idea.

Then the thought struck me that the boatyard may have come to collect her after all. I walked on, as close as I could get to the yard, and looked out to where their boats were moored, some hundred yards off shore. Well, one of them could be mine. Now what? Turn back and let Mark down? I wondered if I could find mine if I swam out.

Before I could change my mind I slipped off my shoes and looked round for somewhere safe to put them. Nearby was a pile of old, rather decrepit lobster pots which I knew had been there all week. Ideal. I moved two near the top, put my shoes in the top of the next one down, and then hesitated. What about the rest of my clothes? I wouldn't need them on the island, and if I wore them swimming out to the boat they'd get wet. But was it safe to strip off here and dive into the sea?

My teeth were chattering by this time, but that was with the excitement of what I was doing rather than the cold. I threw caution to the winds, stripped off both T-shirt and shorts, and put them in the lobster pot, and with a thrill I'd never felt stripping naked on the island I turned and streaked down to the water.

Once again it felt warm after the chill of the night air, to my relief. I swam fast out to the cluster of moored boats. Where was mine? I swam round them, and at last I saw her. They must have just moored her, as the sails were still as we'd left them. Good. That would save time.

Quickly, and as quietly as I could I raised the jib, then struggled rather with the mainsail. Finally the sails were ready and I slipped the mooring from the buoy. There was not a great deal of wind so progress was slow, but that was quite fortunate as there was only a fitful moon. While I was by the town that was to my advantage, but once out of sight of it I found that direction finding was not as easy as I'd thought. But after what seemed ages I heard water breaking on a shore and picked up the bulk of an island. Our swimming island? The shape of the trees suggested it was. I set course around it, thankful that what little light there was reflecting on the white of the waves as they broke against the shore. Sure enough as soon as I was round the end of the island I could see the warning light at the end of the naturists' island.

Wow. I was all but there.

The remainder of the journey was a doddle, except that my this time my teeth were chattering with cold despite the excitement I was feeling at what I had done. Escaped from the hotel. Stripped off in a public area. Swum out to my boat. Sailed her in the dark. Found my destination. And now all I had to do was moor, get ashore and go and take my invited place with my friend. Wow!

Shaking still with the cold, excitement and anticipation about the last part of my quest I lowered sail, rowed to the jetty and moored, all as quietly as I knew how. I walked, keeping to the shadowed areas past the main building and was just about to pass the door when it opened and light spilt out, illuminating me from head to toe. I stopped like a scared rabbit caught in car headlights. This was the worst thing I could imagine. Naked. Trespassing. Discovered. My mood evaporated in a moment and I felt the dread of the oncoming events.

"Hallo Martin," said a voice. "Didn't know you were here tonight. Sleep well."

"Th-thanks," I stammered, and somehow got my legs to move again. Out of the pool of light I paused, and my original mood gradually returned. I started laughing to myself. Idiot! What did it matter if you were naked? You're on a nudists' island! And everybody knows you -- you've been on stage in front of them all, painted!

I was still grinning with relief and mounting excitement when I found his cabin. It was in darkness. Carefully I opened the door, stepped inside, closed it, and stood there listening. Once I could hear over the beating of my heart I realised that, yes, there was someone else in the room, breathing, and I knew him well enough by now to know that it was Mark. He was asleep.

Shivering, I knelt by the bed and looked at him as I'd done at the sleeping James. And like my little brother he was peaceful, angelic, but older. And now I felt, after all the excitement of the journey, absolute triumph. Triumph and an incredibly strong attachment to this boy sleeping in front of me.

Warmer now, the shelter of his cabin and with the blood still pounding from my heart, I knelt beside him. Slowly I leant forward and touched his lips with mine.

He didn't stir. What do I do next?

I smoothed back his hair from where it was falling over his forehad. I stroked his cheek, his chin, put my hand on his lips, then kissed him again.


Then I remembered the previous night, when he'd made me -- what was it? Come? -- in my sleep. Should I do the same? No. I wanted his company as we did...whatever.

I slowly eased back the coverings so I could get in. In doing so I uncovered his willy.

It was stiff.

I looked back at his face in surprise, but he was showing no sign of being awake. It looked so good like that, and I wondered what would happen if I kissed or even taken it into my mouth it as we'd done for each other that first time.

Carefully I laid by his side. Not an easy move as my thighs were on his pillow, my own willy by his face and my legs bent so they would fit in between my knees and the wall. Very carefully I put out my tongue and licked the end of the beautiful ting in front of me.

Once I had done that, and tasted the salt of him, I knew I had to continue. And very gently I encircled him and, using my spit as so it would go up and down easier, I massaged him.

How long I spent doing that I don't know, but there came a grunt from somewhere between my legs and then a "What...."

I said nothing. I thought if I'd stopped he'd yell. There was a pause, then a sort of comfortable sound, and then.....

And then I felt my own willy become wet, and warm, and encircled.

For ages we filled each other's mouth like this, and gradually hands were brought into play on balls, and round the base of willies, and in pubic hair. The saltiness on my mouth from him was intense, and I kept having to swallow. I hoped he wasn't peeing: in fact I knew that he wasn't. I trusted him too much for that, and it didn't taste like piss smells.

I had started on him first, and he was already stiff when I did so. I had been cold when I came in. It was hardly surprising that he gave a low moan, and the next thing was that my mouth was full of his spunk. When He had done this to me he just swallowed it, so as I was pretty far gone anyway I did the same. I kept on swallowing, 'cos I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth. As I relaxed I felt him change pace, work on me harder, and I didn't last much longer before I, too, gave his mouth my little offering.

We rested. We had to.

"I never thought you'd come," he said at last.

"Well, I was cold. I suppose it must take longer."

A pause while this tried to sink in.

"No, idiot, I mean I never thought you'd dare get up and sail see me." There was wonder in his voice at these last three words.

"I wanted to....say goodbye properly. And I did promise."

"Come here?"

I supposed he wanted to talk to my face, rather than my now soft willy. I turned in the bed, nearly falling out of it, lay alongside him and thankfully pulled the covers up over us. I looked straight into those fascinating eyes.

"Oh! I nearly forgot. I need to set my alarm.... Oh!"


"It's with my clothes, on the mainland."

"WHAT? Your clothes are WHERE?"

So I told him the full story, but toward the end of it my thoughts were getting muddled and the pauses were getting longer. And his eyes were closing, too.

"Mark, Mark!"

He opened them with difficulty.

"Mark, I've got to set an alarm. For about half past five. If I don't go then I'll not get back in time, and they'll discover where I've been."

Slowly and reluctantly he set his, despite grumbles that he didn't care if they did know I was here. I took that as a compliment. At last we were just lying there again.



"You know you, don't you."

If it had been anybody else I'd have run a mile.

"Boys don't love other boys," was all I could think of saying.

"I do."

Silence. I went to sleep puzzling about what he's said.

It seemed that the alarm went off almost immediately. Only the light sky told me that we had slept at all. My brain was telling me that I had to sleep on, that nothing mattered more than going back to sleep, that if I didn't sleep I'd be ill, that without more sleep I'd never be able to sail back. He switched off the noise and looked at me blearily. I looked back.

"I've got to go."


"I'll write."

"And phone?"


"I really want you to. And I want you to come camping with me, too. If I could take you back with me today I'd do that."

"About what you said last night."


"You said you loved me. Remember?"


"Can two boys love each other?"

"They must be able to. I love you."

"I think I must love you too, then."

I had to break free from his sudden, strong embrace. I knew I had to go. And now, before the village woke up, let alone my parents. At last I just kissed him full on the lips, slid out of the bed and rushed out of the door without another word.

It was still cool outside, and I ran to the boat as fast as I could, both to keep warm and to avoid the need to talk to anyone. Bu the time I got there my eyes were misty. Because of my own pounding footsteps I didn't hear his following me until I'd got into the boat. I untied more by feel than sight, and rowed out, my eyes full of his perfect figure. My companion... How could I get through the next few weeks without him? What did he see in me that he liked so much as to want me with him?

Hoisting the sails was a mess. I just wasn't looking. But eventually I was sitting at the tiller, sailing away, sailing away from him, and waving, and calling quietly that I'd write, phone, visit....

I remember little about the journey back, except the empty feeling and the thrill. It stayed with me all the way until I was in sight of the moorings I had to pick up. Then I was too busy to do anything but concentrate on what I had to do. I'd just made up my mind that the boat was as I'd found her when a movement on shore caught my attention.

Two fishermen. Walking down to the water's edge. Oh fuck.

As quietly as I could I slipped into the water on the side of the boat away from them. There was a bit of a splash, and the dinghy rocked violently. O made sure I went in deep, 'cos I didn't want to be seen. It also meant that I couldn't see them.

The problem was, I had to swim somewhere. I couldn't float, because of the submarine effect. Even if fear and the cold water had reduced the periscope to a shadow of what it had been earlier in the night. Arghhh -- Mark!

To swim anywhere else but toward my clothes would be silly, so I swam toward the hard. The fishermen were standing, watching me get nearer. When I was in calling distance I heard one of them shout in my direction. I stopped, and trod water.


"I said, you leave that boat alone."

"Oh. I'd had it all week, and I left something in it."

"I know, but you don't have her now. You leave her alone."

"She's not due back 'til this morning. My Dad said."

"Your Dad. Well, your Dad don't know everything."

I thought about this.

"No, but he paid the hire charge."

He looked at me. I started swimming. He spat in the water. I made sure I saw where it landed so I could avoid the spot. They walked off.

I covered the last thirty yards in what, had I been in a swimming gala, would have been a record time. Just before my belly left the modesty-preserving cover of the water I looked around. No one else visible, thank goodness. I sprinted, almost tripping over the uneven flagstones, to the lobster pots, found mine, feverishly dug underneath it, and dug out my clothes. Without even thinking of getting dry I heaved my shorts up my legs, and stood panting, out of danger.

T-shirt and shoes followed, and, remembering the alarm clock too, I walked as airily as I could up to the hotel.

Letting myself back in was a far easier proposition than escaping had been the previous night. Thankfully I regained my room and nearly collapsed with the reaction of the knowledge of safety as the door closed behind me. I was in the process of stripping off my wet clothes when a voice from the bed made me start.

"Where've you been?"

Oh, no.

"I've been swimming."

"This morning? You?"

"Yes. I just wanted to."

"Why didn't you get me?"

"'Cos you'd have been asleep."

"Wouldn't. You could have woken me."

"I know. But there are some things I need to do alone."


"What time is it?"

"Dunno. Your clock's gone."

So it had. It was in my pocket. Which I'd just dropped on the floor.

"Why're your clothes wet?"

"Didn't take a towel."


"Dunno. Look, I'm going to have a shower and get warm."


He must be annoyed with me, or tired. Any other time he'd have been up and in there like a shot.

I got under the warm water, and almost immediately relaxed even further. I felt the waves of tiredness washing over me, and knew that I had to get to bed for an hour or so until it was time to get down to breakfast. I just lazed in the water for a while, dried properly for the first time in hours, and got into the bed alongside James the intruder.

"You went to the island to see Mark."

It was a matter of fact he described, not a question he asked. I could say yes or no.



Pause. "Did you sail?"


"When did you go?"


"In the dark?!"

"Yes. I wanted to say goodbye."

"You did that yesterday."

"Not properly."

Pause. Then quietly:

"You really like him, don't you?"

My turn to pause.

"Yes. Yes, I really like him."

"More than me?"

Oh god, what do I say?

"No. It's just that he's older, nearer my age."

"I can't help being younger!" This was almost a wail.

"I know, it's not that. It's just...well, we know the same things."


"We're learning the same things at school, and we know about other things."

"I do, too."

"It's not the same. Look, I really like you, and I want us to stay friends. Really good friends. I've got to like someone if you share your bed with them, haven't you?"

"S'pose so."

"Well, you have. And we've done a lot of that, haven't we?


"And....and you kissed me, too. Remember?"

He looked at me, suddenly shy.

"Come here."

He wriggled his way across the bed, looking questioningly at me. I gathered him toward me and held him in a bear hug. And I returned that kiss.

And it didn't feel -- it wasn't -- disloyal to Mark. This was my brother. The feeling was different. And he sighed gustily, and we lay close until the alarm clock in my damp shorts announced that we'd better get up. It was the last thing I wanted to do. Only the knowledge that everything had to appear normal, and that I'd be able to sleep on the train, got me out of bed.

The first thing Dad did as he came into the room as we were showering was to ask me if I'd returned the dinghy. I'd not warned James about keeping quiet about my adventure to anyone else, so I hoped he'd use his common sense.

"Yes," I said. "Or rather no. Someone had taken her out to the boatyard's moorings for us all ready."

"Oh, that's OK then. I suppose you didn't see anyone in the boatyard?"

"No, I didn't go in there."

"OK. See you downstairs in a minute, boys."

"OK," we chorussed.

One thing I noticed that the holiday had done for me was to make me totally unworried about being seen naked by my father. Another thing was that I no longer worried about having someone else in the shower with me.

Breakfasts and packing were done quickly, as both our sets of parents wanted to get away early. Farewells were difficult. Both Mr and Mrs Evans hugged me and thanked me for taking such good care of James and giving him such a holiday to remember. He just stood looking at the floor. I didn't know what he was thinking. When they finally walked away he looked up briefly. His eyes were red rimmed.

"Bye," he said.

"Bye, James. See you next year, I hope."


And he was gone, following the Evanses out to their taxi. I felt really let down. I didn't want him to kiss me, in front of everybody, but I'd hoped for something a bit nicer than that. He was my brother. We'd shared...everything for two weeks. I'd really put myself in danger for him. I bent down to pick up my own case and take it out to our taxi which had just pulled up behind theirs.

Footsteps ran towards me, and I straightened up just in time to be almost sent flying as he buried his head against my chest. The arms went round me.

"I don't want it to be a year," he wailed. "I want to see you before then."

My brother had come to say goodbye.