WARNING:
This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving a man, a teenager and two MINOR boys. Such descriptions are an integral part of the story. While the story may appeal to prurient interests, it is intended to have serious literary value. As a friend once said: "Everyone has the right to fantasy. No one has the right to censor an imagination, or dreams."
With that in mind, know that this story is not true, although it is based on fact and some real events! Further, it is not intended to promote illegal acts against minors, but to demonstrate that men and boys can love each other despite the prevalent attitudes of western society. It is my goal to help readers appreciate that love. The sexual acts described in the story are the result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with minors. If the subject of man/boy love offends you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read further!
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"... you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of perjury that you are not a minor or in the company of a minor and are entitled to have access to material intended for mature, responsible members of society capable of making decisions about the content of documents they wish to read...."
The story is copyrighted under my pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. The story cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or printed and distributed in any form that requires payment either directly or indirectly.
Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental. Reference is also made in context to movies, characters, and actors that have become part of modern western culture. No other implication about the true sexuality of the people mentioned or their private lives is intended.
Now that the preliminaries are out of the way.....
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Chapter 22
More than anything else, the smell was unforgettable. It was a combination of the new car smell and something sweet, like pink musk candy, or bread dough after its been in the oven for a while. It permeated my nose as soon as I opened the car door. It was far stronger than what I smelled for the first time that very morning. I sat next to Blaine, who was curled up nearly asleep in the other corner of the car with a blanket around him. I sat on the towel that Byron gave me, quickly realising that it was probably a good idea. I felt uncomfortable, as if my insides were bruised. Once the car was closed, Blaine smiled weakly across at me.
“Hi.” I winced as a fart gurgled through my bowels
“Hi,” he murmured. “I know that feeling.”
He sounded tired, but it was late and so was I. I yawned and settled back in the seat for the remainder of the drive. The car lurched forward, resuming the bumpy trip down the hill.
Blaine kept looking at me, his expression curious. “You okay?”
I nodded slightly.
“Sure?”
“Uh huh,” I murmured.
“Tired huh?”
“Uh huh.”
“Did it hurt?”
I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. At least he was being amiable.
“Did you like it?” he asked softly.
“It was,...”
I paused, trying to decide. I both hated it and loved it. It hurt, but not nearly as bad as I expected. It felt good too, much better than I imagined it would be. It seemed like a long time ago when he told about the full and the empty feeling. 'So full you can barely breath, and then so empty you feel like there's nothing left inside you.' He never told me what it was like afterwards. He waited patiently, watching me from the other side of the seat.
“Mostly,I guess it was okay,” I concluded.
“Did you get one?”
“Huh?”
Blaine rolled his eyes. “You know.”
“What?”
“Geez. What do you think I'm talking about? Did you get the jerks you drongo?”
“Um,...” I thought back. There had been a time at the very end when it seemed to be closing in. Just a few moments more. “No. Was I supposed to?”
Blaine smiled. “Sometimes you don't. You have to do it just right for it to happen. Maybe next time.”
“You're assuming a lot, man.”
“Am I?” he said with a trace of bitterness.
“Maybe there won't be a next time,” I grumbled.
“I bet there will be.”
“Yeah, right.” I said caustically. “Like you'd know.”
“I do. If you didn't like it, you'd be wailing your head off.”
He turned away, pulling the blanket closer. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the nagging images of Bruce hunched up, his face distorted almost in pain as he ejaculated into me. If that wasn't enough, there was a sore feeling in my bottom that wouldn't go away, an awful longing deep inside me to do it again, only longer. Much longer. I felt hot all over, red hot and shamed by the persistent urge to try it again. It would be better the next time. Bruce, Blaine, even Byron, said it was. As tired and distracted as I was, I barely paid any attention to the discussion in the front of the car.
“What's up with you?” Bruce asked quietly from the front seat.
“Nothing, mate. I'm pooped, that's all.”
“I think Blaine's asleep already.”
“I guess pounded him pretty hard,” Byron explained. “He's okay. He just needs to sleep it off. Actually, I'm not surprised. After getting fucked by Allan, he's worn out, I reckon.”
Bruce laughed. “He told you too, huh? Like that skinny dick of Allan's going to bother him after you've been doing it to him for more than a week.”
Byron glanced at him, then he turned back and grinned at me. “I hear you fuck pretty good.”
I made a grim face to convey that I didn't want to talk about it. Byron returned a wink before he looked away again.
“So how was it, Bruce? I noticed Cuddlepie was still able to walk back to the car.”
“Oh man, it was fucking unbelievable,” Bruce gushed. “It was great,..incredible really.”
“You got him loosened up okay, right?”
“Um,... He was still pretty tight. It was like fucking a chook for a while.”
“You did what I said?”
“Um,.... I used lots of Brylcream, and I fingered him for a long while when we in the car. He felt pretty loose back there before I started.”
“Meaning what exactly? Man, I told you not to rush it, didn't I?”
“I didn't,” Bruce replied. “Well maybe a bit. I couldn't help myself. Besides he wanted to do it.”
“Why am I not surprised. I told you he was as camp as a row of tents, didn't I?”
“Yeah. It felt so fucking good, By,” Bruce muttered. “It took a while getting it in. I guess I got too excited. I spunked almost as soon as it was in him.”
“And here I was, worrying you'd do it too much and hurt him. Oh well, the always the next one. It's far better to be leaving him wanting more than having him not liking it at all because you did it for too long the first time. Give him a week and he'll be putting Blainey to shame....”
I dozed off, lulled by the growling motor and the rocking of the car as we descended the hill. I didn't hear the car stop or the door being opened. I was barely aware of being lifted out and carried up the steps. I hugged Bruce when he carefully lowered me onto the couch. He was poised above me, kneeling either side of my thighs, smiling. He was happy. I was happy. I smiled back at him. The lights went out, leaving us in darkness. The bedroom closed. We were alone. I nuzzled Bruce's cheek, inhaling his scent. His lips danced across my forehead, my nose. His fingers caressed my hair, my ears. He clambered over me, pulling the sheet up to cover us. I hooked my hands behind his head and drew his face to mine. I wanted to kiss him. He smooched my face, planting wet kisses everywhere except on my lips. His breath was hot, his hands urgent. His body weighed heavily on mine, pushing me into the cushions. His arm slipped behind my neck, cradling my head, bringing my face to his.
Then, we kissed. I trembled underneath him, submitting, willingly accepting his tongue when it pressed between my lips and moved back and forth across my teeth. I opened my mouth, wide. His tongue surged through. I sucked urgently, passionately, hungry for more in the dark hot night. Instinctively, I sensed that this was the love that I so desperately needed. Lust drove both of us as Bruce began to push against me. His thick cock bulged into my belly, shoving my little rigid penis out of the way. We kissed again and again, until we were gasping together.
“I want to fuck you, Bunny,” Bruce whispered. “Can I? It'll be better this time, I promise. Please,...”
It took only a second or two to decide. All thoughts of being hurt again vanished. I had to do this. I needed to do it. I wanted to do it. I nodded quickly, fearing that he might change his mind if I showed any reluctance. How did Blaine know I would give in so easily?
I expected to be rolled onto my belly so that he could lie on top of me, or he would make me pull my legs up to my chest again. Instead, he eased away and took up position lying next to me. Then, he lifted my legs up and over his hips, turning me side-on to him in the process. It was only a matter of seconds before I understood what he was doing. It was the same position that Blaine and Byron used that very same morning. Eagerly, I moved my legs further apart, pulling my right leg higher so that it crossed his chest. His hands took hold of my bottom, levering my cheeks wide apart before one of his fingers began to search for my opening.
“Fuck!”
“What's wrong?” I asked breathlessly.
“I left the fucking stuff in the car.”
“Huh?”
“The bloody Brylcream.”
“There's the jar from this morning around here somewhere,” I reminded him.
“Yeah,... where did I leave it. On the floor?”
“I think it was still on the bed,” I offered. I began to feel around near the pillows where I'd last seen it.
“Fuck, we'll never bloody find it in the dark,” Bruce complained. He squirmed against me, carrying out his own search.
It was in the gap between the cushions. The plastic lid was missing. My fingers sank into the creamy grease.
“Here,” I said, holding the jar out to him, trembling.
“Man, my cock is so fucking hard,”Bruce growled. His fingers dipped into the jar. “I'm using a lot this time. You know why, don't you?”
I nodded. There was a weird feeling inside me.
“You're really going to fuck me this time,” I whispered.
It was the only thing that made sense. Last time, it was barely inside me, not at all like when Byron and Blaine did it. It was over too quickly.
“You got it right,” he said hoarsely. “I'm going to do it until you walk like Blainey.”
I wasn't sure what he meant by that, unless it was how Blaine always seemed slow to react whenever he came out from the bedroom. He always walked slowly for a while too, as if he was very tired. Instinctively, my hand reached down, transferring the Brylcream from my fingers to my anus. I trembled again, remembering what it was like the previous time. It would hurt for certain.
Bruce pressed my buttocks apart with one hand. I used my hand to help him. He guided his penis forward, putting the broadly flared head directly over my anus. It felt big and hot, and greasy too, but it was also nice. It was snug, just resting there. By then, we were both shaking with excitement. He pressed gently, testing, then eased back just enough that I relaxed again.
“I guess I better you get ready” he muttered to himself. His fingers squirmed between us, rubbing a lot of the odorous lubricant between my cheeks. His finger poked, pushing in slightly, then backing away.
“It's still pretty loose,... maybe loose enough to put my dick in,...” His penis returned, replacing his finger. It seemed hotter, bigger, more demanding even though he didn't push hard. At least it wasn't hurting very much.
“Oh man,.... God, I love you so much,... I can't believe we're going to do it again,....”
Then, he pushed. The bulbous mass felt like it was burrowing inside me. I gasped. I had been waiting for the pain to begin, but it wasn't as bad as I expected. Unlike the first time, when it felt awful going in, this time felt less like it was going to hurt and more like I was trying to pass an extra big turd. I did what came naturally. I pushed with it, or rather against it. The feelings changed instantly, from having something forcing against my anus to having something deep inside me.
“Oh yeah,” Bruce groaned. “Do it again.”
“Do what?”
“What you just did.”
“Why?”
“Because a couple of inches of my cock just slid up you bum,” Bruce joked feebly. He took a quick breath, now trembling beside me. He seemed even more nervous than I was. “Can't you feel it, Allie?”
I could feel it. The fullness I'd enjoyed so much up on the headland not more than a half hour earlier was back again, and with a vengeance. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. I wanted to remember every second, every sensation. Bruce's penis was inside my body, just like before, just like Byron's penis was probably inside Blaine again at that very moment. I didn't move. Neither did Bruce. My anus kept trying to close up and squeeze Bruce's penis out, while I put all my effort into trying to relax my inner muscles and stop the spasms. It was pain and pleasure mixed together, I decided. I couldn't think of any other way to describe it. It felt good, but it hurt as well. The nicest thing about having done it before was that I was aware that the pain didn't last very long. Indeed, it was as if I could feel my anus getting bigger with every spasm. I closed my eyes, waiting.
It was some time later when Bruce pushed forward again. Perhaps I had fallen asleep. I came back with a sudden jerk. Fortunately, I didn't jerk away. Bruce's penis was barely inside me. I could feel it pulling at my insides, threatening to pull through the opening. Then, slowly, steadily, he pushed it back inside me again. I gasped, not daring to move a single muscle in case it ended. It kept going and going, taking over my bowels as it went deeper and deeper in that long continuous push. I know I groaned again and again as it got larger and larger inside me. He stopped with a shudder. Only then did I become aware that his fuzzy pubic hair was rubbing my bottom and lower back.
“Oh,.... oh yeah,... God's it's so big,” I whimpered.
“You're awake again huh?”
“I was asleep?” I mumbled.
“Yeah. For a while,... about ten minutes. You like this, don't you Bunny?” Bruce whispered in my ear.
I nodded erratically, trying to adjust my position so it didn't feel so huge. Slowly, I realised why there was hair rubbing against my bottom. It didn't seem possible, but after being asleep for ten minutes anything was possible. His penis was all the way inside me. It didn't hurt at all. If anything, it felt like it belonged there.
“God, you're so fucking tight,... Your arse is practically squeezing my cock off.”
I was tight? His penis was as thick as my wrist. No wonder it felt tight to him. To me, it felt like something had swelled up inside me and was ready to burst. But, it was a good feeling knowing that Bruce was inside me, that we were joined, that I was physically joined to him.
“Hey Bunny?”
“Yeah,...”
“You want to do something really sexy?”
“What?”
“Talk dirty,” Bruce panted. “It really turns me on. Will you?”
“Huh?” My ears burned.
“For me, please... say something really sexy, okay? Only it's got to be dirty,.... Um, like you want me to fuck you hard,...”
“I want you to fuck me,... hard.” However, I didn't just say it. I breathed the words in soft voice. It was remarkably easy to do. I couldn't explain the thrill that came by saying it as if I wanted to actually do it.
“Yeah,.... Now,... um,... say you like my big hard cock up your bum.”
“I like your big hard cock,.... up my bum,” I murmured.
“Yeah, me too. Oh fuck,... God, I don't want this to ever stop. Why do I have to always spunk up so fucking fast.”
Bruce gave a thrust, hard, deep, almost pulverising me, but instead of crying, I groaned. He pulled back quickly, then jabbed forward. My entire body moved with him. Something surged inside me, making my insides tighten like a cramp.
“Do that again,” I demanded as soon as my breath returned.
Bruce repeated the motion, not quite as forcefully. It wasn't what I wanted.
“Harder,” I begged. “Please,...”
“Fuck. You're joking? You really want it harder? Man,... Okay,...”
He pushed up against my, driving his penis deep inside my rectum. I felt my anus getting stretched bigger and bigger the further his penis entered. Finally he stopped. Again, his pubic hair was compressed against my behind. It was getting increasingly difficult to breath.
He began to thrust, keeping most of his penis deep inside me, never pulling further back than about halfway. That was good, but the sensations changed from mere pleasure to absolute ecstasy when he used the entire length of it with long powerful strokes. Finally, I understood everything. This was why Blaine had sex with Byron. Euphoria was the only word to describe it. I was consumed by a feeling of being so alive that anything was possible. Was it pulsing inside me, or was that me throbbing. With Bruce's penis buried in me to the hilt, I was completely filled. When it was nearly pulled out, I hungered to have it back again. And in the glorious middle, it was the best of all. I twitched involuntarily, again and again. Sometimes it was a momentary paroxysm, while other times it went almost to the point of frenzied shaking. I hated the feeling of not having any control over myself, but from that point onwards I had to have more of it.
Not understanding why, I began straining down, attempting to increase the pressure on a place that felt as if it was going to explode. Later I would discover the same thing happened to Blaine, but late at night and as tired as I was, the lead up to my first anal orgasm truly frightened me. I began to wonder whether I might die.
“It's not hurting now, is it?” Bruce breathed deeply.
I nodded slightly. It was the truth. Except for the sensation of something stretching my insides, it really didn't hurt.
“See once it's loosened up inside you, it slides easily. I told you it would, remember? Cool, huh?”
He proved the point by giving a couple of long slow thrusts. Each one went all the way in, and out, or very nearly out. Each time I felt his penis tugging at the rim of my anus as if it was trying to pull free. Then, I longed for him to push it back because I was left with the empty feeling that Blaine talked about. I became increasingly desperate. Whenever Bruce withdrew his penis it was all i could do to stop myself from slamming down my hips to get it back where I wanted it. The problem was that I didn't want it all the way in either. Neither did I want it nearly out. I wanted it somewhere in the middle, and harder, much harder. I grunted and shuddered every time it passed that spot. The pressure was unbearable. It was a delicious, terrible torture that kept on getting better and better.
Finally, as Bruce's energetic thrusts became erratic, it began to hurt inside me. Perhaps my rectum had taken too much abuse, or maybe it was because I was straining down so hard. However, as awful as the back and forth stabbing was, I didn't want Bruce to stop. The end was too close. And then, the final awful rush began. My eyes clamped shut. I was close to sobbing when I started to shudder from deep inside. As my rectum cramped savagely around Bruce's engorged penis, I felt it swelling up inside me, becoming even hotter. My pelvis jerked wildly, savage unforgettable throes, the thrill of my first anal orgasm exploding through me. Later, Bruce told me that in the frenzy of orgasm, I bit his shoulder.
“Oh God. Help me,... Yes,... Fuck me, Bruce,... please,... Please,” I wailed.
The words were disgusting, yet I could not stop myself. It was maddening, more thrilling that I could ever imagine. What was happening to me? The shudders returned, making me thrash and writhe against Bruce, plunging myself onto his rigid penis, labouring for each breath as I babbled.
“Oh fuck,” Bruce groaned . “Oh God! It's coming,....spunking,.... Allie,.... Filling your bum,.... so fucking good,.... There! Oh man. Bloody hell.”
We sagged in a hot sweaty tangle of arms and legs, both gasping. Bruce petted my face, planting kisses, running his fingers through my hair, soothing my brow. A minute or more passed in silence. I loved being held and rocked gently, secure in his powerful darkly tanned arms. It was even nicer than having sex, I decided tiredly.
“Oh Allie. That was so fucking incredible, wasn't it?”
I nodded weakly, not really believing anything.
“Hey,.... Look at that, will you? I can't fucking believe it. Merry Ex-mas,...” Bruce sighed.
“Huh?”
“The clock. See, its just past midnight. So it's Christmas.”
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed. The clock on the wall showed it was nearly 12.05. “Merry Christmas.”
“Hey, do you know what I wanted for Chrissy more than anything, mate?”
I shrugged. Already, the pain was a dim memory, but at the same time, the wonderful overpowering pressure inside me was nearly gone. All that was left was the sensation of having something inside me.
“You,.... I wanted to fuck you so bad. Oh man,... For a while there I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.”
“Same here,” I agreed.
“You had a fucking orgasm,... I think it was two of them actually. I guess I better take it out, huh?”
Holding my ankles, he guided my legs upward and eased back, withdrawing his penis slowly. I winced when it plopped out, no longer hard and thick. Immediately, my rectum clenched, trying to close despite the hot wet ooze that followed Bruce's penis out. I felt it dribbling between my thighs. I worried about it making a wet spot underneath me that I would have to sleep on. There was so much it would probably go right through the sheet that covered the cushions. Not that I was particularly worried about making a mess. There were any number of other stains that had accumulated on the couch over the years. Now I knew where they came from. No doubt some of the marks were Blaine's and Bruce's. Sometimes I experienced a sudden falling sensation when I started to fall asleep. Not that night. I drifted off in a haze of memories. The soreness would linger for most of the next day.
Chapter 23
The next few days passed very quickly. It was almost as if the year was rushing to finish once Christmas had ended. Perhaps it was because my innocence was gone forever. 1969, and starting high school, was right around the corner for me, but the world that existed beyond McIntyre Beach was almost the last thing I thought about. There was the occasional news story about Vietnam on the radio, but the high point came on December 27th. That was the day that Apollo 8,with Borman, Lovell, and Anders aboard, which had blasted off on December 21 atop the massive Saturn V, came back to earth. All four of us stood outside for more than an our and tried to see it go past on the final orbit prior to reentry. Now, that was exciting, but my life was still very much a blur. It consisted of surfing and sex, both occurring mostly with Bruce, but occasionally Blaine and I managed to find some privacy for a quick wank, or Byron took me out to the big waves beyond the channel for some lessons.
Never in my eleven years had I been so happy, not even at Brindajari. Everyone joked a lot about me finally being in my element. It was true. The real Adam James Harding was finally unleashed, freed from the fettered skirts of two women. It would have been easy to put my change in attitude down to that, with the immediate implication being that I was finally growing up, yet it was more than that. I was well aware of the changes going on inside me, the uninhibited freedom of making my own decisions, of being my real self. It was evident in almost perpetual erections.
When it came to surfing or sex, I was a fast learner and I was eager to try anything. Sure there were some things that weren't all that enjoyable, but the good times more than compensated. A couple of times it was all I could do to make it to the toilet out back. It wasn't because of anything I ate, even though I thrived on a diet that would have made my grandmother apoplectic.
Then, finally, four days after Christmas, the big day arrived. At breakfast, when we'd all finished eating, Byron grinned and told me to stop wasting my time with the old surfboard. It was only the day before that when I graduated from surfing the waves beyond the channel to going off the point. It might have happened sooner, but with the current staying far off the headland,the waves were actually better off the beach. Surfing the point, as we called it, challenged every bit of skill I had managed to acquire. It was dangerous, sometimes coming within a few yards of the jagged rocks before I managed to pull out of the wave, yet I loved every second of it.
So it was on December 29th with a lot of excitement, and glowing with happiness that I carried my new board down to the water that morning. It was a day I would never forget. My board was already well waxed by that point. I had waxed it at least a half dozen times by then, but I decided another layer wouldn't hurt. Besides, Blaine was waxing his board, getting it ready for another long day of surfing instruction. I took up position next to him and energetically applied the hard white wax, stealing glances at my best friend.
After more than a week of nearly constant sun, both of us were nut-brown, even under our board shorts. My hair was several shades lighter than when we arrived. I was a sun tanned, blond headed beach bum, and so was Blaine. He was a joy to look at, and I feasted my eyes whenever I could. He was lean and sexy, always showing himself off when he realised someone was looking at him. If no one else was around, he usually ended up grinning at me, then exposing himself just to see my penis instantly harden. It was cruel I suppose, but it was funny too. It never took more than a few seconds before my penis was erect, even if I wasn't in the mood. That was the overpowering effect that Blaine had on me. By contrast, Blaine's penis only became hard if I played with it, or Byron was close by. It wasn't fair, but that was the way it was. However, we still had a lot in common, not the least being that we both had sex with someone who was older. Our response to that took the form of crude comments to each other about 'getting stuffed', or having 'arse holes so loose that farts kept sneaking out'. It was true. They did, almost a constant stream for an hour or so after sex. A wet gurgle, a wheeze, anything but a real live fart. We both knew why. Our bums were used so often that they stayed loose for a long while.
That morning was no exception. My bottom felt slightly sore, not so much inside as around my anus, but that was usual. Byron called them friction burns. Brylcream helped eased the way, so to speak, but it was along way from being the ideal lubricant. For another few years, Brylcream and good old petroleum jelly were all that was available to me. In fact it wasn't until I went to university that I was able to buy a real sexual lubricant. I used it a year later on my first trip to Bali. That was 1975, before Bali became a world renowed tourist destination for pedophiles, when young boys worked in the hotels and did anything you wanted for a few dollars.
“How's it going Bunny?” Byron said from behind me. “It looks like enough wax. If you're ready to try out the board, let's go.”
I hadn't heard him approach. I swivelled around, grinning from ear to ear. I nodded eagerly, tossing the board wax onto my towel. I was so brown by then that it was a waste of time putting on suntan lotion with an SPF of four. I stood up, lifting my board up to my side. Beside me, Bruce gave an approving nod. I was ready to surf with the best Australia had to offer.
“You ready to go out too, spunky?” Byron said to Blaine, who was still busily waxing his board.
Blaine ignored the jibe at his recently acquired ability to ejaculate. “Uh huh. Nearly. I'll wax it some more later on. I want to see Allie ride his for the first time.”
The four of us headed into the waves. We paddled out through the slop, keeping close enough that we could talk when there were no waves to fight against. However, the surf was running that day so it wasn't long before we split up. I stayed close to Bruce. The waves beyond the channel break were approaching four or five feet for most of the time, but some waves rose to their full majesty of some six or seven feet before they curled over and exploded into a burst of foam.
My first wave wasn't all that big, but it was well-shaped. If I'd learned one thing from Bruce and Byron it was that bigger didn't always mean better. It was smarter to take a well-shaped wave that let you get the most out of it. I ended up with a wonderful long ride, going all the way to the channel before I pulled out. After it was over I sat on the board, breathless, laughing. The reputation of a TrueBlue board for manoeverability and speed out of the wave was well deserved. Comparing my new board to the board I'd been using, was like comparing a VW Combi van with a race-prepared Lotus Cortina. Finally, Bruce paddled over.
“Hi mate. What do you reckon? It's the cat's pyjamas huh?”
I grinned and patted my surf board lovingly. “It's fucking fabulous.”
“I noticed you were getting used to it pretty quickly,” he laughed. “You've got plenty of style, that's for sure, especially for a horny little kid.”
“Who's a horny little kid?”
“You! Hm, how did it go this morning? Ohhhh Bruce, just do it man. Do it hard!”
“Fuck you,” I laughed.
We came closer, swirling in the eddy as water raced through the channel. We had difficulty keeping our boards far enough apart that they wouldn't bump.
“No way. You'll have to ask Blainey if you want some bum. He'll bend over for any guy with a dick.”
“Maybe I will,” I joked. “You'll probably have to take his place.”
Bruce grimaced, pretending he was in pain. He swiveled around and pointed his board back to the oncoming waves.
“Let's go closer to the headland. I want to see you ride some of those big ones.”
Again and again we paddled out and rode the waves back to the channel. The closer we came to the headland, the more often the waves maintained enough power and shape to go over the channel. Often I was able to ride almost all of the way in to the beach. It was on one of the return trips from the beach that the shark appeared.
I paddled out by myself. Byron was a hundred feet ahead of me, with Blaine nearby. Bruce was off to the right and about the same distance behind me. I was a few hundred yards from the shore. I waited in the channel for Bruce to catch up. I wasn't paying attention to anything except how hot the sun was on my back, and keeping the board pointed in the right direction. I barely heard Blaine screaming.
The shark, was cruising along the channel, following the current as it swept in close to the headland. I glimpsed the dark shadow in the water only a few seconds before it changed direction. It was dark gray, moving in a zig-zag path. It disappeared from sight. At first I didn't believe my eyes. It was too big, and too close.
“Shark!” Byron bellowed.
I turned around. The shark was showing its dorsal fin and bearing down in a rush. I panicked, yet my instinct for self preservation was sufficently awake that I jerked my legs up onto the board. The fin struck the front edge of the board and spun it around. The impact nearly knocked me off. It was only good luck that kept me on the board.
Then, nothing. The shark was gone. My heart rate surged, beating frantically. Every Australian boy knew that usually, when a shark attacked, it only made one pass. It was all or nothing. Of course, if there was blood in the water, there was a good chance that the shark would go into a feeding frenzy. But there wasn't any blood. Just a very frightened boy grasping a surfboard with white knuckles. Despite the heat, I was chilled to the very core. My teeth chattered, but other than that I was unable to move. Somehow, I looked around me, increasingly fearful that I would see the fin cutting through the water, or the long dark shadow beneath the surface.
Suddenly, I was aware that I wasn't alone out there. Blaine was paddling back towards me, rapidly closing the distance between us. So was Byron, as fast as he could.
“Blaine! Get the hell away,” Byron yelled. “Go in!”
Blaine veered away, pulling into a wave that was beginning to form. He picked up speed, and came to his knees, still paddling with one hand.
“Don't get up!” Byron shouted after him. “Get to the beach!”
And then, they were both gone as a wave blocked them from my sight. I was alone again. I began to shake, too scared to put my hands in the water to paddle, which I needed to do to get enough momentum to ride a wave. Somehow, I knew that the shark was still in the vicinity. I was so terrified that I closed my eyes.
“Allan!”
I looked up. He was close, maybe twenty feet away. The wave crested behind him and took off towards the beach. Somewhere, Blaine was already on his way ashore.
“S-s-shark!” I lifted one hand, shaking, pointing into the water.
“Fucking hell. Hold on tight!” Byron screamed.
I don't know what he saw, but his voice galvanized me into action. I grasped the sides of the board again, even using my feet to grip under the board. Just in time. The shark rose up directly in front of my board. Its snout was blunt, almost chiselled, the mouth opening as it broke the surface. For an instant, I stared into a vast cavern. There were row upon row of teeth. The front of the board shot into its mouth and the jaws slammed down with an awful crunch. The board flipped up. I would have been thrown off if I wasn't used to riding a horse bareback. My legs slid around the board instinctinvely, locking underneath as the tail end of the board rose out of the water. I was shoved sideways from the force of the shark's lunge, then backwards, careening through the water before the shark broke away. With sudden swirl of its huge tail, thumping hard against the board, it disappeared again. I clung to the board, my heart all but stopped.
“Move it, Allan!” The voice was very distant, even though it was only a few yards away.
I banged my head, sobbing against the hard waxed fiberglass. The front of my surfboard was missing, sliced away in a jagged fracture.
“Damn you! Get the fuck out of here before it comes back!”
I shuddered, finally getting enough courage to look up. The dorsal fin was between Byron and me, heading away. I felt a sudden relief, deep down and I groaned aloud. I would live even if my surboard was ruined. There was a wave building not so far away that I couldn't reach it if I paddled hard, but my arms were rigid, my hands still clamped desperately to the board.
“Go for it!” Byron shrieked.
“Can't,” I sobbed.
My right foot felt like it was on fire. I glanced back, absently wondering why my foot was bright red and blurred. Then, I was terrified because I realised what it was. Quickly, I pulled my foot onto the surfboard, but it was already too late. There was a streak of blood dissipating into the water. Of course, I knew that the shark hadn't bitten me, because my foot was still there. However, it might as well have bitten me. All it had taken was for the sandpaper-like skin of the shark's tail to graze my skin. I looked to where the shark had been only a few moments earlier. It was already a dozen yards or more further away. Suddenly, it changed course. It jerked from side to side before coming back on a direct course for me.
“God no,” I wailed. “No!”
“What's wrong?”
I pointed to my foot, clamping my hand over the abraded area. Until then, Byron had been rapidly paddling towards me. He veered away.
I heard him say something that sounded like. “Oh fuck. Keep it out of the water.”
I stared in horror as the shark bore down, rushing through the water. Then, Byron began pounding his fist onto his surfboard, splashing his legs in the water, while he continued to paddle away with his other hand.
“Go, Allan! For God's sake go!” he shrieked.
The shark, excited by the scent of blood, skewed in the water. For a moment it seemed confused, moving its huge body from side to side. It passed within an arm's breadth of me. It was at least twice the length of my surfboard. I watched as Byron's board lifted up over a wave that was big enough to ride. There was a second wave right behind it, even larger. If only I was facing in the right direction. I lay down on the board and paddled furiously, slewing around to meet the next wave, hoping it didn't catch me broadside and roll me over. I had just enough momentum to get lifted by the wave, but not enough to go with it. As the board started to sink back off the face of the wave, I did the only thing that made any sense. I tried to launch myself up, using Byron's technique that I had practised so hard the first day, but as soon as I started to move, Byron yelled out.
“DON'T!!!!! STAY DOWN!”
I fell flat and clung to my board and watched the back of the wave roll away. It was my last chance. There was blood dribbling down my leg. I was going to die, a horrible death. Most shark attack victims either lost a limb or disappeared forever. All I could think of was where was the shark? Perhaps it had decided I wasn't a fish and left. However, even as I looked over my side, my intuition said otherwise. It was only yards away from Bryon, who was paddling as hard and fast as he could. There was a wave right behind him. He was going to ride it in. He shouted something, but I didn't hear. Immediately, I saw that Byron wanted me to get on the same wave. I had just one chance to live. I had to do it. I began to paddle as hard as I could, using both hands while keeping my injured foot up in the air so the blood ran down my leg. The board rocked from side to side, but started to pick up speed. At least this time I was pointed in the right direction. I felt the surge of the wave lifting the board.
I lay face down the whole way, gripping tightly. I was afraid to do anything besides breath and lean slightly to keep the board going in the right direction in case I fell off. However, I kept glancing around, imagining the shark was behind me and closing in for a final attack. There, back in the wave, a dark shadow closing rapidly. NO, a plume of sand stirred up from the previous way. Another shadow, that might have been a shark or seaweed. It was impossible to tell. The wave broke to my left in a roar and a flurry of foam. I kept going, away from the headland.
Luckily, the wave was big enough to carry us both across the channel, then nearly all the way to the shore. Byron stayed beside me, never more than a few yards away. Finally, the wave passed by me. By then it wasn't more than a foot high. I was buffeted to a standstill, my board slowly circling in an eddy. I gasped for air, sobbing as they gathered around me.
“Man, did you see it? It was fucking enormous.”
“Jesus. I've never been that close. Hey Allie? Are you okay, mate?”
“Allan! God! He's hurt!”
“Fuck! The shark bit his foot.”
“No! He's okay! He got ripped, that's all. It'll stop bleeding as soon as he's dried off.”
“Allan! Oh God!”
Someone, Blaine I think, grabbed at my shoulder and shook. “Allan? What's wrong with him? Why's he shaking?”
“He's in shock. Bruce, get his board.”
Byron lifted me off the board and slung me over his shoulder. I hung limply, looking down his back as the surf swirled around his legs,
“Look at his board. It's fucking rooted.”
“Shit!”
“The shark fucking bit it,” Byron explained. “He's lucky it wasn't him.”
“What was it?” Bruce asked.
“Fucking tiger, I reckon. I happened pretty fast. I wasn't paying that much attention. It sure looked like one, but usually they don't hang around after the first run.”
We reached the beach. Byron carried me past the high water mark to dry sand. He lowered me carefully and knelt down beside me. He looked down at me, concern evident in his face, gently brushing strands of hair from my face.
“Allan? You're okay mate. It's over.”
I breathed quickly, panting, shaking my head. Every few seconds I shuddered as the shark struck, again and again.
“It's okay. IT's okay. Calm down, Allan. You're safe. Just slow down and catch your breath a bit. You're fine. Your foot's a bit scrapped that's all.”
“N-n-no,....”
“It didn't bite you.”
“It sure bit your board,” Blaine piped up. He was kneeling behind my head, gazing down at me.
“Shut the fuck up! God, he cold.” Byron began rubbing my arms.
“M-m-my b-b-board? W-w-where's m-my b-b-board?” My teeth chattered.
“It's okay, mate. Where's a fucking towel when you need one?” Byron growled.
“They're back where we left them.” Bruce smiled reassuringly at me. “I'll go get one.”
“W-w-where's m-m-my b-b-oard?” I demanded frantically.
“Right over there. I'll show it to you, see.”
Bruce picked up my surfboard, holding it tail up. Even still, I could see that something wasn't right. All of a sudden I remembered the shark's gaping mouth, the curved white teeth, the horrible crunch as its jaws closed.
“S-sh-.... s-show me,....”
Byron patted my chest. “This is yours. There's your name, see. It's fine, mate.”
I shook my head. I knew better.
“Fuck. Show him, Bruce.”
Bruce turned my board around. There was about a foot missing from the front . Between the jagged edges of punctured fiberglass, I saw the brilliant white of the foam core, the shattered balsa stringers.
“N-n-n-o,....” I sobbed.
“Better your board than your foot, Cuddlepie,” Byron said softly. “I cou;d have been a lot worse.”
He didn't have to tell that worse meant losing an arm or a leg. People died with injuries like those. This far from town, I would die from loss of blood if the shark didn't kill me first.
“There's blood all over his leg, but it looks like his foot's stopped bleeding,” Blaine observed dispassionately. He sounded very much like his father, cool, calm, collected. If he didn't grow up to become a doctor everyone would have been surprised.
“Yeah, so it has. I told you it would, didn't I? It's probably not much worse than if he'd bounced off the rocks.”
“What about his board?”
“Forget the fucking board, Blainey. I'll make him another one. Christ! Where's Bruce with the fucking towel?”
“He's nearly there,” Blaine observed, looking back along the beach. “Why did the fucking shark have to go after him for?”
“Hungry, I guess.” Byron chuckled. “Maybe he prefers cute little boys for breakky?”
“Yeah? You mean like a pervert shark. There's a lot of them around here.” Blaine giggled. Under other circumstances, I would have too.
“Who are you calling pervert?”
“Like you don't want to get it in his bum?”
“I'd fuck him in a flash if he ever gave me the chance. I'll tell you one thing, though. He's as spunky as hell, that's for sure. Hey, make yourself useful and rub his legs will you?” Byron said. He smiled weakly at Blaine. “I know the two of you are hot and horny for each other, but try to leave his dick alone for a while.”
Blaine scowled and scooted down to my side. He began to massage my legs. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the nightmare I would have for weeks to come.
“What's the smell?”
“Huh?”
“The smell. Can't you smell it?”
“Huh? Oh shit. The poor little guy crapped himself, I reckon.”
“He did it in his shorts?” Blaine said in amazement.
“Yeah, I guess he did. You would have too if the shark had gone for you.”
“No way. Hey, Bruce, guess what?”
“What?” Bruce breathed deeply, in and out. He handed two beach towels to Byron, who shook his head.
“Allan filled his shorts. I reckon it's because you loosened him up too much.”
“Fuck off, Blaine. How is he?”
“Cold as a tinny on ice, mate.”
“He's still shaking a lot.”
“Nothing I can't handle. I guess we better clean him up a bit before we dry him off.”
With that, Byron scooped me up again, this time cradling my nearly inert body in his arms. He smiled at me reassuringly before my head came to rest against his chest.
Still, I shook my head as the realisation struck. There was no way that I was going back into the water.
“I've got to rinse you off, okay?”
“N-n-not g-g-going b-bback,...N-n-not a-aagin.”
“I'll barely go in,” Byron said gently.
I tightened my grip around his neck, still shaking my head in denial. Byron paid no attention. He began walking. I shoved at his head. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to see me, let alone touch me when I was like this. It was too disgusting for words.
“D-d-don't n-n-need y-you,” I blabbered.
“It's okay, mate.” Byron hugged me.
It felt good to be held in his arms, his warmth restoring a little confidence in me, that maybe I would be okay.
“You guys stay here. He's embarassed enough as it is,” Byron said over his shoulder. “We won't be long.”
He walked into the water slowly, holding me securely. Even though the water was ankle deep, I was alarmed. I shivered as he knelt down, then stretched out into a sitting position. Foamy water flushed over my thighs as I rested on his thigh.
“I'm going to take your shorts off,” Byron said in a hoarse voice.
One of his hands picked at the bow tied at the front. It came undone and he pulled the sides apart. He grinned at me, obviosuly pleased with himself.
“W-w-what's s-s-so f-f-funny?”
“Sorry, mate. It's just that I've wanted to do this since I first saw you. I didn't imagine it would anything like this when I first took your pants off.”
He winked teasingly and I managed a weak smile. There was something about Byron that had that effect on any boy. His somewhat cavalier attitude perhaps. Maybe it was the realisation that he offered fun and excitement in a world that believed that sex between a man and a boy was depraved. He wasn't a bad person because he wanted to have sex with boys.
“I d-don't mind.”
“That's better, Byron said quietly. “That shark scared the fucking shit out of me too,” he added as he began to ease my shorts down. “If I hadn't taken a crap this morning, I'd be cleaning the poop out as well.”
I smiled again. God, how I loved Byron at that moment.
“Biggest fucking shark, I've ever seen,” he continued.
My shorts were nearly at my knees by then. There was almost no sign that I ever wore clothes. I was suntanned where most boys were very pale. Even my penis was a delicious golden brown. My balls were still blue, the colour slightly mottled where the dye was fading. The skin was dark and shrivelled almost to nothing, so contracted that it was impossible to see my testicles.
“After today, you're really true blue, Cuddlepie,” Byron went on as he tugged my shorts further down my legs. “The fucking shark must have been fifteen feet, I reckon.”
I nodded slightly, barely aware that my shorts were off and I was naked. The surf washed over me. I felt his hand underneath me, rubbing my back, then across my bottom, down my thighs. My board shorts swirled in the water, leaving a brown trail.
Byron's hand moved back to my bottom, gently squeezing my cheeks together.
“Oh man. I'm getting a fucking stiff,” he said. “How about that?”
“It's okay,” I said quietly.
“You're beautiful,...” Byron sighed.
His fingers tickled between my cheeks. One finger, perhaps two, pressed them apart and pushed along my crack. They travelled up to my balls, then back to my spine several times. Then, his fingers drifted back to my anus and circled gently.
“Old Bruce's got you pretty used to it, hasn't he?” Byron asked offhandedly.
I knew what he was referring to. For the last few times, it hadn't hurt at all when his penis slipped into me. One finger tentatively eased forward, easily penetrating the outer ring. He pressed on, slowly, surely sinking deeper into my opening. The inner muscle tightened up involuntarily before I managed to relax it. Byron's finger squeezed through, rotating carefully. With some lubrication, it would have slid in easily, just like Bruce's fingers did.
“He fucked you this morning, didn't he?”
“Uh huh.” There was nothing to be ashamed of, not when I heard Byron and Blaine doing it twice.
“You like it, don't you mate?”
“Uh huh,” I answered, without giving it any thought.
Was he talking about having sex with Brce, or what he was doing with his finger? Not that it mattered. It would have been the same answer. His finger crooked, lifting up, beginning to rub. It wasn't much further inside me than the second joint, although I could feel his knuckles grazing my buttocks. It was as deep as it needed to be. In fact, it was exactly where it needed to be. Bruce always had trouble finding the right spot. Byron found it immediately. His finger pressed into my core, sending a tantalising thrill through me.
“You're still pretty tight. I guess that's only to be expected. You're glad you came, aren't you?” he murmured.
I smiled at him. A wave washed over my lower belly, leaving brilliant droplets behind. My penis was already growing bigger. Byron noticed it too.
“From the looks of it, I'd say you're enjoying it,” he said suggestively.
“Uh huh.“
“It's tiny, at least compared to Blainey's it is.”
“What's tiny?”
“Your prostate.”
“Huh?”
His finger oscillated, rubbing firmly in the one place that was guaranteed to make me tremble. I squeezed back to increase the pleasure.
“This,.... It's where the good feeling come from. IT's why guys fuck each other.”
“It feels good,” I purred.
His finger moved around, pushing deeper, pulling back, screwing forecfully into my tender spot.
“That shark sure scared the shit out of you. You're ready to fuck, you are.”
Byron smirked knowingly, meeting my eyes. There were times when he knew me better than I knew myself. “What about it, Cuddlepie? You want to try a bigger dick up here?”
His finger pressed relentlessly. I trembled again, my fear dissipating. Perhaps that was why he did it. Then, his thigh moved, lifting me up out of the water. My penis was fully erect. His was as well. It was a bit longer than the one I was used to. It was quite a bit thicker. I wondered if it would hurt. If he went slowly,.... I wanted to try. The only problem was that I didn't want to hurt Blaine or Bruce.
“I can't.” I turned to look at where Blaine and Bruce were standing on the beach. They were looking in our direction.
“They won't mind in the slightest, believe me mate. They expect us to get it off sooner or later,” he said confidently. “See, it's part of being true blue.”
“Huh?”
“Blainey wants me and you to fuck. In fact, we talked about it this morning. We'll be lucky if he doesn't want to watch. And Bruce, well he expects me to do it with you, even if he isn't into being bum chums as much as the rest of us. It's no bid deal if you don't want to, but you'd miss the best fucking you'll ever get.”
I nodded. He helped me to my feet. I stood awkwardly, barely finding the energy, my mind churning, not on sharks but on what I'd agreed to do. I watched him, feeling the excitement grow, his powerful body with barely an ounce of fat on it. Nothing but muscle. He was so darkly tanned that he could have passed for an 'abo'. Smiling, he leaned down, picking up my shorts and rinsing them once or twice in the water.
“He sure is a sexy little bugger, I must say,” Byron remarked to Bruce when we reached the sand. “He must be a lot of fun in bed.”
Bruce shrugged ambivalently. Clearly, he wasn't overjoyed to see his uncle's very erect penis, the way that Byron's hand rested possessively on my shoulder. A few seconds passed. He galnced at me, looking for some sort of sign. I swallowed awkwardly. The last thing I wanted to do was to hurt his feelings.
And then Bruce smiled. “Why don't you find out for yourself how sexy he is, mate,” he said quietly.
He handed Byron one of the towels and the bottle of suntan lotion with an SPF of four.
Blaine giggled and glanced down at my still-stiff penis. IT had conveyed my desre better than any words. “Then you'll be true blue too, Allie.”
THE END. (It had to end somewhere)
Author's note.
The tiger shark (Galeocerdo cuvier) is considered one of the most dangerous of sharks, growing up to some 18 feet long, although most are about 10 feet long. Unlike other sharks which prefer offshore currents, the tiger shark is often found in shallow water where people swim. In Australia, the sand tiger shark (Odontaspis taurus) is also called the gray nurse shark. In the 1970s, the gray color that was often observed during most shark attacks resulted in a reputation that led to the gray nurse shark being almost exterminated. The shark off McIntrye Beach over the Christmas holidays of 1968 was not a gray nurse. The tiger shark usually attacks in murky water near a channel, and with a single horrific lunge. However, tiger sharks seldom hang around after the initial vicious bite. Truthfully, I don't remember much of what happened. For one thing I don't remember seeing any striped markings on a dark back, which give the shark its name, yet it did have an off-white underbelly and a blunt snout. The first dorsal fin was huge, and the upper tail (caudal) fin was long and pointed, supporting Byron's claim that it was a tiger shark. The only real evidence is the single shark tooth that was extracted from my surfboard later in the day. It was curved and very serrated, almost like a saw. For years my mother believed that the tooth I wore on a leather cord was purchased at a store in Coff's Harbour. It was one of many things that happened during those three wonderful weeks that I lied about.
If you made it this far, you deserve a medal.
I changed a lot during that endless summer of 1968. I discovered who, or rather what I was, and wasn’t. For one thing, I wasn’t a poofter, not in the normative sense anyway. I was what people at the time called 'pervert' and nowadays call a 'pedophile', rather than a boy lover. Now, as then, it was even worse than being a poofter. So much for being born with a silver spoon in my mouth.
When people engage in the nature vs. nurture discussion of sexual orientaation, I always remember that summer. I’m convinced that men love boys because of a genetic predisposition. All it takes is the right situation to occur. Throughout six years of high school, I considered no more than half a dozen boys to be friends and only Blaine qualified as a close friend. We were friends from the day we started kindergarten, and we are still friends today, although the expanse of the Pacific Ocean separates us. By the time we started having sex our relationship was more about love than friendship. I was in love with Blaine long before we had sex. I just didn’t realise it. I fell further and further in love with Blaine as the summer progressed. Even after we returned to Sydney, we had sex just about every day it seemed, and we both had sex with Byron and Bruce as well. We did 'stuff' whenever the opportunity arose. We were insatiable.
1968 was the best summer of my life. A lifetime later, I realise that my enjoyment of those simple pleasures of three weeks transcended the experiments of a curious, immature boy. The things I did with Blaine, Bruce, and eventually Byron, provided a thrill that always made me tremble, but without doubt, the excitement was far greater with Blaine. I loved him so much that it hurt inside, yet it was so one-sided that I was miserable. Not that he didn’t enjoy my company in Byron's bed, because it was no secret that he did, but it affected him less so. All too soon, I was to find out why.
Unlike Blaine, as I grew older, I remained interested in boys. Much to my chagrin, Blaine dated girls during the last two years of high school, but by then, it really didn’t matter because I was head-over-heels in love with a twelve-year-old first former named David. Blaine was married at 22, before he entered medical school, but he was divorced at 25. After that, no one was more surprised than I was when he lived with an older man for several years. Then, out of the blue, he married again. He’s still married, with two very cute, sexually irresistible boys of his own. Unlike Blaine, I never liked girls, or for that matter, men with hairy bodies and rough skin that turned him on so much. The boys who interest me the most nowadays are those boys who remind me of Blaine and myself when we took our most important steps in growing up. What of the dark-haired Italian and brown-skinned Eurasian boys who find places in my stories? Well, that part of my life will have to wait to be told.
Now, what of this story? The first thing a reader will probably want to know is how much of the story is true. Needless to say, I’ve changed a few things for self protection. It’s not quite autobiographical because I’ve added some things for the sake of interest, poetic license if you will, but even with those constraints, so much of it is true that I feel positively maudlin writing this story. The surfing trip really happened and it really changed my life. Aged eleven, I spent three weeks on a beach north of Coff’s Harbour. I lost my virginity to a seventeen-year-old surfer-Adonis where there are now at least a hundred houses crowding the headland, but back then there was a pervading sense of liberation, of having nothing to be responsible for, except ourselves and having a good time. There was also a singular lack of restriction when it came to sex. It was 'no big dal'. The four of us talked about it openly and used words that would have raised my grandmother’s ire. There was no topic that could not be discussed, no joke that could not be shared.
After that night when I lost my virginity outside in the darkness, every one knew, but no one cared. It was a rite of passage, part of 'coming of age'. I remember that I felt truly grown up for the first time in my life. The purpose of sex was as much about enjoying one's self as giving pleasure to someone else. That was the club that I joined, and I quickly turned into an enthusiastic member. If I had any inhibitions left after what happened during the trip, they weren’t worth worrying about. I was 'true blue' in more ways than the blue dye that was applied to my balls in that smelly Buladelah toilet, which still stands by the way!
By the time we returned to Sydney, I arrived at the conclusion that should have been self evident all along. I loved Blaine more than I could stand, even more than before we left Sydney. It probably had something to do with what we did on the beach at Coff's Harbour on Christmas Eve. For the next few nights after that it was very difficult to watch him go into Byron's bedroom, seeing the door close behind them, hearing them have sex. Of course, I should have been used to it by then. Then, the day after the shark attack, I joined them. Sometimes I went in with Bruce, but usually I went alone. The pattern was always the same. It was the same as what I'd heard when Blaine was with him. There was always a burst of giggles because Byron loved tickling him, me too for that matter. Then, some foreplay and a quick application of Brylcream preceded the abrupt erratic hammering of the bed frame against the wall. Needless to say what happened at night was much the same for Bruce and me when we slept on the couch. However, we didn't have sex constantly, not like Byron and Blaine. I thought that one time, first thing in the morning and another at night before we fel asleep was fair trade for him teaching me how to surf. For a while I wondered why Blaine didn't have a similar rule, before finally realising that he liked it far more than I did. When I wanted to have sex with Blaine, it was a simple matter of going into Byron's bedroom. I was often the meat in a McIntyre sandwich. Life could not be any better.
How simple things were in 1968. In the year that followed, there was very little happiness as I remember it. We almost lost Brindajari in late 1969. With the annual drought came bush fires, and many other problems, not the least being another plague of rabbits. As bad as that was, it paled beside the worst possible thing that could have happened. Bruce died in a terrible car crash north of Taree early in the following year. He was on the way to a surfing championship in Queensland. And as for Byron? Well, he's now 65 years old, but he's still chasing after boys. The last time I saw him, which was a few months ago, he was 'hanging out' for the summer with Blaine's youngest son, Boyd. Boyd was a cute eleven-year-old grom with shoulder-length blond hair and blue-dyed balls, but unlike his father, he seemed to have absolutely no interest in girls. I spent a few days with them at Byron's weekender about a hundred miles south of Brisbane. We surfed, drank some beer and reminisced about the summer of 1968. This story is dedicated to my memory of that time, and to boys everywhere who discover that they really love boys instead of girls.