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Dad met us at the shoreline with a wave, and a list of stuff for me to do before the rest of the guests started arriving. He gave me a quick "should I be worried about you two?" look, making my eyes widen involuntarily; he grinned proudly.
We set aside some small fireworks for later, sparklers for the kids and some bottle-rockets for the adults. While in the shed, Dad nudged me with his elbow.
"So Oliver, you and Lizzie makin' out on the island?" he asked, bluntly.
"DAD," I exclaimed, embarrassed, "No!"
"What were you doing then?"
"Just talking some, is all," I hissed.
"Are you sure," he chuckled, "because she's becoming quite the young woman, I wouldn't blame you for being interested."
"Dad..." I growled between my teeth.
"Nice little titties..." he teased.
"Dad STOP," I shouted, a small laugh betraying my attempt at sounding angry, "Oh My God!" I swung my fist and socked him good on his arm.
"Ow!" he half-howled, half-laughed, "take it easy on your old man, son!" I looked at him sheepishly over the rims of my glasses, a dorky grin on my face. Behind his good-natured banter, I knew, lay a serious intent.
"Dad," I said, "Lizzie and me are just friends, I don't think we're ever gonna do that kind of stuff."
"Even best friends end up doing stuff," he said quietly, "I just want you to be smart about things, is all." With that, he tapped the tattered visor of my ball cap and drew me in for a quick hug.
Having done most of the work in preparation for guests over the previous two-weeks, we completed our morning chores quickly. Without much else to do, I trotted down to join Garrett on his morning walk. I jogged up and fell into step with him. Without saying anything, Garrett smiled and swung his arm over my shoulders, and we walked in silence.
Garrett taught me many things, but the one that stays with me is how two guys can be perfectly fine with saying nary a word to one another. Girls are always nattering back and forth, expressing their feelings and opinions to one another. Two boys can do stuff like walking, fishing or just sitting, in complete silence, and be completely okay with it. In our quiet walk together, Garrett and I just kind of knew that we were both looking forward to the festivities of the Memorial Day weekend, the good food, a few fireworks, and general fun. I sensed that he also felt my hunger to see Neal again, that he understood that our walk together was a way to sublimate my anxious excitement for Neal's arrival.
Families started arriving shortly before noon, and of course, Neal's family took their time making the trip from Hartford. Mom made us some sandwiches, which I barely touched. I stationed myself, with an orange flag and a clipboard, at the stone pillars of the entrance gate, pointing arriving families to their assigned cabins. When Neal's family wagon crested the lake road, I couldn't help but start waving my flag wildly, and jumping up and down.
"HEY OLIVER!" Neal shouted, sticking his head out of the car window, waving his arms like a madman, as they pulled up. "Get in!" My appointed job now officially abandoned, I leaped into the car as Neal slid over to make room for me. We two were a couple of grinning fools as we sat hip-to-hip.
"No Mustang?" I asked.
"Nope," Neal's father answered, "had too much stuff to bring, we never could have fit it all and ourselves."
I helped Neal and his father to unload the car while his mother went off in search of my Mom to see if she could help with anything. As soon as his father excused us with a "job-well-done" and a pat on Neal's butt, we sprinted along the road to my little cabin.
I got there first, and burst into the tiny room. Following quickly behind, Neal slammed the door, threw the bolt and then bent over, his hands on his knees, breathing very hard.
"Holy shit," he gasped, "I haven't run like that in a while." I watched with concern as I caught my breath, listening to how his lungs whistled and wheezed. He smiled up at me, puffing out his crimson flushed cheeks. We both sat on the edge of the lower bunk together as his breathing slowly became less ragged. I put my arm around his shoulders and hugged him close to me. That's all I really wanted at that moment, was to be as close as possible.
Without warning, he turned and pushed me down with his weight as he scrambled on top of me, pressing his lips breathlessly against mine. I could not suppress the moan that slipped out of me as his tongue slid into my mouth. Neal ground his pelvis into me while digging his arms under my shoulders, pulling my face to his in a fierce hug. I let my legs fall open and we entangled in a lover's embrace. I could feel our steely dicks pressing against each other through our pants; Neal started to thrust against me as we gasped into each other's mouths. Wrapping my legs around his, I grabbed his butt with both hands, needing to meld with him completely. Neal lifted his face up, his eyes screwed shut, giving a mighty grunt; I felt his penis pulsing strongly.
"You guys wrestling or something?" A little boy's voice came from above us. Neal's eyes shot wide and we both stopped moving. Looking up, I saw Brian Coopersmith's glittering eyes and innocent smile as he peered over from the edge of the top bunk. Our eyes locked onto each other, I'm sure I looked shocked and ashamed. Neal, in is characteristic unflappability, saved the day.
"Ya, we're wrestling," Neal looked down at me with a lopsided grin, "we love to wrestle, don't we Oliver?" I nodded dumbly; a droplet of sweat fell from Neal's forehead and splashed on my face. giving me a jolt.
"You pinned him good!" Young Brian squealed, jumping down from the bunk.
"This time," Neal said with a smirk, still not taking his eyes off my face, "Oliver usually wins our wrestling matches, but I got him good with this one." As if to drive the point home, Neal gave one last thrust of his hips, I felt his penis throb against me. I stifled a moan as he rolled off me; I sat up, gamely trying to hide my aching erection from little Brian's inquisitive eyes.
"Hi Neal," Brian chirped brightly.
"Hi Coop," Neal leaned over and gave him a quick knuckle-shampoo; Brian squealed and ducked away, "How are you and your little dingus doin'?"
Brian threw back his head in a peal of laughter and started bounding around the little cabin chanting, "DINGUS! DINGUS! DINGUS!" After a few circles, he finally stopped and dramatically dropped-trow, pulled up his shirt hem and proudly stuck his little wiener at both us.
"Tada!" Brian cheered, "Here's how my dingus is!"
Neal clapped his hands in effusive applause, nudging me to join in. Brian took a theatrical bow before pulling up his drawers.
"So, Brian," I asked, regaining my composure, "were you hiding up there the whole time?" It would have been easy enough for him to do, the sides of the bunk were made high enough to prevent anyone sleeping up there from accidentally rolling out.
"Yup!" Brian answered, wedging himself between me and Neal. I shifted over, thankful my poor dick had decided to give up and finally go soft. "What are we going to do now?" he asked, earnestly.
"Well," I shrugged, looking at my watch, "it's getting to be about time for me to help Dad fire up the barbecue pit, wanna help?"
"Oh boy!" Brian said, leaping up, and grabbing both of our hands. As we stood up, Brian pointed to Neal and giggled impishly, "Hey look Neal, did you wet yourself?" We both looked down at the front of Neal's trousers to see a large, damp, pickle-shaped stain extending from his fly, up to his right hip.
"Look at that," Neal said, casually, "I must have spilled some water on me in the car." The waxy, opalescence glittering from the surface of the stain would make it difficult to palm off as water to anybody else, but Brian seemed satisfied, if not a little disappointed. We let Brian pull us out of the cabin, and he jogged ahead of us as we followed him down the footpath to the beach where my Dad was setting up the charcoal in the barbecue pit. Neal excused himself briefly to discretely go and change his pants, while Brian and I assisted my father to crib the wood so that it would burn down to nice coals for cooking.
The night's meal was a simple affair of hot-dogs and burgers. Most of the families, still somewhat wearied by their travels, were not ready for the feast that my father and mother would lay before them the following night. Garrett and Ned played guitar while my dad did some mighty fine picking on his banjo. We and the guests all settled into familiar songs like "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" and "Puff, the Magic Dragon". In fact, we probably covered just about every song on every album that we’d ever had from the group, Peter, Paul and Mary.
The smoke and sparks from the fire ascended into the cool, clear skies above, yielding to a canopy of a billion sparkling stars of the moonless night. Brian, wrapped in a blanket, had collapsed into his father's lap, only his face sticking out. The guests began to make their goodnights, and Mr. Coopersmith hoisted Brian's limp body up onto his shoulder, and walked up the path toward their cabin. A few adults still lingered, smoking cigarettes and laughing when Neal tugged at my elbow; I agreed with him that it was time to go to bed. He started ahead of me and we trudged up the trail to our little hunter's cabin, in the woods, and my eyes stayed glued to his butt during the entire walk back.
Neal got into the cabin first, of course, and quickly confirmed that the top bunk was empty before jumping down, circling around me and bolting the door shut. We didn't even bother lighting the kerosene lantern on the table, but fumbled our way to the bed, frantically tearing the clothes off of each other.
Gasping, our mouths and tongues found each other and danced in the dark, the sparseness of the room amplifying our scuffling and ragged breathing. Falling into the bed, we wrestled as our erections entangled, each sparring urgently against the other. My head, chest and abdomen felt hot, like they wanted to explode into flames. Neal stopped kissing me and I let out a groan of need and disappointment.
"Shhh!" he hissed, putting a hand over my mouth. Outside, heavy footsteps could be heard scraping on little porch.
"Do you suppose they could be asleep already?" Came the voice of Neal's father.
"They did look kinda sleepy," my father could be heard replying, "I guess we'll leave them to it and see them in the morning."
"I thought I heard something though," Neal's dad said, "Maybe their still up. Should we knock?"
My eyes went wide as Neal took his hand from my mouth, and stealthily moved down and slurped my raging penis into his mouth; I could not stifle the moan.
"Boys?" My dad called through the door, "you guys awake?"
"Dad, what?" I called back, sounding probably more irritated than I meant. Neal snorted a little bit, and increased the suction on my dick, making my toes curl.
"Sorry Ollie," he said, "Neal didn't take his medication tonight, is he already asleep?" Neal nodded his head vigorously, while still managing to stay attached to me, rasping the roof of his mouth across my sensitive knob.
"Ungh!" I gasped.
"What was that son?" my dad asked, "I couldn't hear you through the door."
"Uh, yeah dad," I said, as if trying not to wake Neal, "he's already out like a light." They murmured to one another and finally bade a quiet good-night before shuffling off the porch to leave us be. Once they were gone, Neal launched into overdrive, sucking me for all he was worth. Clenching my jaw, my teeth ground together, I exploded into his mouth; it felt like I was shooting my insides out from the end of my dick. Neal pulled off and let me squirt the rest of my load over my abdomen, where it pooled in my belly-button.
Climbing up, Neal straddled me, and slipped his stiff member along my pubic bone. Scooping up some of my mess, he rubbed it onto his own penis, which was drooling a generous amount on its own. He stretched the length of his body against mine, and kissed me deeply, I felt his hardness on my stomach as he thrust gently. Reaching around his butt, I ran my finger along his crease, lightly touching his hole. Neal's breath caught in his throat and I felt him tense and tighten his leg muscles. Re-positioning him a little higher on my body, I pushed a fingertip firmly into his butt hole.
Neal grunted deeply in his chest and pushed up on his elbows, arching his back.
"Ugh, oh gawd Oliver!" he groaned, the cords in his neck standing out as he clenched his jaw. His warm dick, sandwiched between us, began to pulse and throb once more, squirting large, pearly dollops of jizz onto my chest, making it slick with our combined juices. Neal looked intensely at me, his eyes sparkling in the sparse light.
"God damn, dude..." he whispered hoarsely. "I missed you so much."
I stared back up at him, my heart still thudding in my chest. A wave of what I can only describe as complete, exhausted joy, washed over me. I touched one of his black, caterpillar eyebrows and stroked his ear. His breathing sounded a little wheezy, but otherwise seemed to be returning to normal. Neal rolled off of me revealing the sodden mess between us.
"Wow," I observed, "You shot a lot out on that one."
"Yeah," Neal nodded, "it's been getting like that, thicker too."
"You been jerking off a lot?" I giggled softly.
"Yup," he snickered, "I even fired one off in the car on the way here, just thinking about you!"
"How did you manage that?"
"I actually was napping in the back seat, covered with a blanket and I woke up near Mechanicsville, with a boner. I started thinking about you and all the stuff we were gonna do together; my dickhead was rubbing against the cloth of my underwear. I yawned, stretched and opened my fly under the blanket and turned over. My dick fit right in between the cushions of the two seats. I guess the rhythm of the tires on the highway and the car bouncing up and down was all I needed, It felt like I squirted a huge load."
"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, "I wish I had seen that." Neal reached over me and picked up his boxers, and wiped up our cooling semen. We both took extra special care to clean up each other's sensitive, now limp, penises. Eventually, fatigue overtook us, and we fell asleep, entwined.