Date: Fri, 9 Dec 2005 14:07:37 -0800 (PST)
From: Rob Hoek <storyguy22@yahoo.com>
Subject: Chat Room Boy (12)

   Bret and I dozed for maybe half an hour, recouping our strength, and
normal heart rates. Eventually, we made our way back down the hill to the
boat, and shoved off the island. We exited Emerald Bay, and headed back
north, letting the Master Craft plane smoothly on the calm lake, and show
off her stuff.

   As we were paralleling the shore line off Meeks Bay Resort, I angled the
boat toward the beach, and slowed, as we circled past the swim area buoys,
and idled into the small marina. I tied up at one of the visitor's docks,
and Bret and I walked over to the snack shack, and ordered some cold
drinks. Taking our drinks, we used the rest room facilities, then, ambled
over to the really nice beach area that Meeks is famous for, and checked
out all the cute guys who were sunning, and swimming. There was a vigorous
volley ball game under way on the white sand beach, and we stopped to
watch. There were eight guys playing, one four man team of what looked to
be early teens, and the opposing team made up of what appeared to be
college age guys.  Bret exchanged hello nods with a couple of the younger
dudes, who he apparently knew, and we sat down on the warm sand to enjoy
the game, and the trim little bodies involved in it.

   After a while, the wining point was scored, the college guys emerging
victorious by just that one point, and high fives all around were
exchanged. Both groups of sweating boys then took of hell bent across the
sand, and plunged into the frigid water of the lake, while one of the boys
Bret had seemed to know walked over, and joined us. Bret introduced his
friend as Jason, and he and I shook hands, as he dropped down onto the sand
in front of us. He leaned back, resting on his elbows behind him, and I let
my eyes roam over his lean body, seriously checking him out.

    Jason was indeed a hottie, in every sense of the word. Fourteen, maybe
fifteen, I guessed, a very cute, and boyish look about him, all topped with
a somewhat unruly swatch of sun bleached, sandy color hair. He had perhaps
the most azure blue eyes that I had ever seen, with eyebrows to match the
hair, and very long, very sexy, curled eyelashes. He was equally as cute as
Bret, and easily flashed a brilliant smile, revealing even rows of
stunningly white teeth. He didn't appear to be especially tall at maybe
5'8" or so, and I guessed maybe 140 pounds. His torso was slim, and fit,
though not seriously buffed, and he was, of course, sporting the golden tan
of the Lake Tahoe summer. His chest was very smooth, hairless, and dotted
with very attractive, slightly puffy, nipples that looked totally suckable
from my vantage point. His underarms sported small, emerging patches of
light colored down, and I noticed a very light line of soft fuzz trailing
from his small navel into his swim trunks. The swim trunks themselves were,
sadly, of the loose fitting, board shorts, variety, but the crotch
exhibited an alluring mound that made one seriously wonder about the
treasures contained within. His legs were toned and tan, and a very fine
down shone in the bright sun below the knees. The sum of all the parts, I
decided, was nice, very nice, indeed.

   The boys kept up an easy banter, catching up on their respective recent
activities of the summer, and I gathered that they were fast friends during
the school term, but were seldom together during the summer, due to the
fair amount of geographical distance between their respective homes, and
the limitations imposed by the fact that neither was yet of driving
age. The way their eyes kept dropping to the others lap, I began to wonder
if there wasn't some chemistry going on between the two, or least, a degree
of mutual interest. A highly interesting prospect, I decided, and certainly
worth exploring. After some more idle chatting, I proposed some wake
boarding, or water skiing, or both, since we would now be three aboard the
boat, which was required for legal water sports, of you will forgive the
pun. The boys jumped on the suggestion, as Bret began excitedly bantering
about how "awesome" the Master Craft was, and Jason quickly responded with
equal interest, and enthusiasm. I inquired as to whether Jason needed to
notify anyone of his whereabouts, and he declined, saying that his mother
would be at her work at one of the south shore casinos until ten o'clock
that evening, and he was on his own until then. The elements having thus
been decided, the three of us headed back toward the marina, and the boat.

   The boys swelled my ego sufficiently as they verbally drooled over the
boat, and soon we were aboard, and under way, idling out of the swim
area. Once past the speed buoys, I hammered the throttle, and the boat
leapt forth, rapidly planning, and sending a rolling wake out to both sides
astern. We cruised south a ways, until we were off the rocky point that
divides the beaches of Meeks Bay, and Bliss State Park, and I chopped the
power, letting the boat settle into a drift, as it bobbed gently in the
mild chop of the lake. "Ok, Dudes," I said, "Boarding, or ski's?" They
looked at each other, wide grins painting the two cute faces, and echoed,
"Boarding!" I chuckled, and opened the storage hatch, and began digging out
the wake board gear. The boys did a short version of "rocks, scissors,
paper." To decide who was first, and Jason's "rock" shattered Bret's
"scissor," leaving him the winner. Just as a small ice-breaker, I gave Bret
a consolation hug, letting my hand lightly graze over the taut little
globes of his cute butt, and smiled, as he blushed sweetly, and Jason
looked slightly curious at the small gesture. Curious, yes, but I swear I
also detected a degree of interest in there as well.

   Jason struggled into the wet suit vest, no easy task when both the
neoprene, and your skin, are dry, and the gyrations the movement required
allowed for some very interesting perving of his rather plump package. He
managed it finally, and stepped out onto the swim platform at the stern,
and slid into the chilly water amid much gasping, and grunting. I pushed
the board toward him, and sat behind the wheel, and idled away, circling,
to pay the tow rope past Jason, who grabbed on as it slid past his
shoulder. I shifted to neutral, and waited for his signal to pull him up,
as Bret settled onto the observations seat, facing the stern of the boat,
and Jason. Jason set himself, and yelled, and I kicked the throttle full
forward, easily lifting the boy from the water, as he balanced the board. I
reduced the speed, then, and began maneuvering the boat, so that Jason
could ride, and cross, the billowing wake at either side of the boat. He
was good, and obviously practiced, and he gave the ride his all over the
next twenty minutes or so.

   When Jason tired, he gave a throat-cutting gesture, and released the tow
rope, settling gracefully into the water, as I brought the boat around to
pick him up. He climbed aboard, and zipped himself free of the vest, once
again capturing my full attention, as the now wet shorts clung nicely to
what appeared to be a very generous allotment of boy parts. Bret followed
with his own very interesting moves, and displays, as he managed the
cumbersome vest, and stepped off the swim platform into the water. We
repeated the previous routine, this time Bret cutting athletic swaths
across the wakes, while the intriguing Jason filled the observer duties
along side me, allowing for some very fine crotch-watching on my part. I
was ever so tempted to drop a hand onto that bulging crotch, and gain some
first hand confirmation of my suspicions regarding what lurked there, but
resisted, barely.

   The boys never tired for long, switching places, as they rode the wake
board, and eventually, the skis, over the next couple of hours. Finally
they decided it was time for a break from the cold water, and we stowed the
gear, and dug some cold drinks out of the cooler. As we sat back relaxing
in the warm sun, I was pleased to note that the two had settled very close
together on the three quarter length observation seat, and happily seized
the opportunity to sit back, and perv the two cuties, and their scantily
clad lithe bodies. Both their wet crotches exhibited delicious lumps, and
the cold water had their lush nipples in perpetual erectness, and I tried
not to openly drool, as I watched them, their bare legs in solid
contact. My demented mind played a xxx video of them naked like that, and
more, and I tried to be subtle, as I adjusted my burgeoning cock in my
shorts. Bret didn't miss the move, and he giggled softly, apparently
reading my dirty mind. He executed a small flex of his hips as he watched
me, and it was obvious that he was at least half hard himself, and I winked
at him, giving a tiny nod of my head. He giggled again, and a soft pink
flushed into his smooth cheeks.

   We chatted for a while, all very comfortable together, and I asked them
what they would like to do next, since we still had about three hours
before time to call it a day. They thought about it, giving each other cute
little looks, and finally, Bret said, his soft cheeks glowing sweetly,
"Hey, Jason...you ever been to Secret Cove, Dude?" Jason hesitated a second,
his own cheeks coloring nicely, then, sheepishly replied, "I wish!" Bret
added more tone to his cheeks, then, said, "It's freeking awesome,
Jase....no shit...Kelly took me there the other day...and....well....it's
freeking cool, is all!" Jason looked over at me, his pretty face flushed,
and mumbled, "Oh man....jeez...really....we could go there....?....like....now?"
I chuckled, and gave him a serious look, then answered, "Well, sure, we
could go there...now...but....you do know about Secret Cove, Jason....right?"
He blushed brighter still, and nodded his head rapidly, and croaked,
"Um....yea...its, like.....naked...right...?" I laughed, and took the moment to
lean over and cuff both boys by the nape of the neck, and replied,
"Yup...naked....that's the rule....you want to beach at Secret Cove,
then,....it's naked." The boys looked at each other, faces glowing sweetly,
and smiling like Cheshire Cats, as they squeaked, almost in unison, "You
wanna...?" This little synchronous exchange was immediately followed with an
equally synchronous chorus of "If you do's!" and I laughed, already knowing
the answer, as I slid in under the wheel, suddenly eager to cross the pond.

(To Be Continued)
Storyguy22@yahoo.com