The Castaway Hotel
Book 2

By: B W
(© 2012 by the author)

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Chapter 6
A Bump in the Road. 

I felt terrible and didn’t know what to do.  He had only been with us a short time and already I began to question if this arrangement was going to work.

“Just because we aren’t ashamed of our bodies doesn’t make us gay,” Dustin informed him, while positioning himself, in case Pat decided to attack him.

“Yeah,” Kevin added, “it’s just more comfortable and cooler this way.  We see each other and other boys naked in the showers all of the time and none of us feel we have anything to hide.”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Danny added.  “It’s just that we don’t stop anyone else who does want to do it.”

“Well, it’s not right and it ain’t natural,” Pat shot back as he stormed out of the room and raced up the stairs.

“I think I better go talk to him,” I told the others, before I left the room too.  I walked up the stairs and knocked on Pat’s closed bedroom door.

“Go away,” he shouted.

“Pat, it’s me and I think we need to talk,” I told him.  There was no response for several seconds and then the door slowly opened.  “What do you want?” he asked me.

“May I come in and discuss what just happened?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he answered defiantly.

“I believe there is and I think there is more to this than just your objecting to the other boys being naked.  I think we need to talk about what triggered that outburst.”

“It’s nothing.  I’ll just stay in my room when they start running around without their clothes on,” he informed me, hoping that would make me go away. 

“That would probably prevent future flair-ups,” I agreed, “but I don’t think it would solve the real problem behind what just happened.  I believe it would be best if we took some time to discuss this.” 

“But there’s nothing to discuss,” Pat protested. 

”Pat, people don’t react in that fashion or to that degree without some underlying reason,” I explained.  “I think that’s what we need to talk about.”

“I guess you’re not going to go away until we do,” he responded, apparently still annoyed, “so you might as well come on in.”

I walked in, sat on his bed and made a hand-signal to indicate I wanted him to sit next to me.  Hesitantly, and very reluctantly, he joined me on the bed, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye.  He only stared at the carpet, so I began the conversation.  “Pat, I can understand if you are uncomfortable about the boys running around without their clothes on, but I think your reaction was a bit severe.”

“But why would they want to do something gay like that?” he pressed, still unable to comprehend the reasoning behind their actions.

“Pat, there are many nudists, or naturists as they prefer to be called, who are not gay.  They just don’t believe it’s necessary to hide their bodies.  Even if the boys were gay, they wouldn’t try to force you to doing anything you didn’t want to do.  We are very open and accepting here.  We try to respect each other for who and what they are and we don’t try to force our views on each other.  We’re not trying to tell you that you have to do the same thing, but in the same token, we don’t want you telling them they can’t do it either.  You don’t have to look at them if it bothers you, but you also don’t have to hide alone in your room.  The human body has always been viewed as a work of art and there are many fine paintings and sculptures to verify this fact.  People spend a great deal of money to purchase these masterpieces, and here we have equally attractive works of art parading around in front of us for free.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.  Do you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, half-heartedly, “but it just doesn’t seem right.”

“Okay, I can accept the fact that you view things differently, but I don’t think you need to call the boys names or raise such a fuss about it.  We are still in the dying throes of summer and it is quite warm at times.  The boys feel cooler and more comfortable without their clothes on and I’ve never seen anything wrong with letting them express themselves in this manner.  The house is very isolated and they have time to go and put something on, should we get company.  We keep the blinds and shades drawn on the windows that might expose them to view from the outside world and they don’t parade outdoors that way unless it is in secluded areas, such as the swimming pool.  That area is fenced in and the boys wear towels to and from the pool.”

“You mean we can go skinny-dipping here?” Pat interrupted me.

“Yes.  Here that is the norm, rather than the exception,” I admitted. 

“I used to do that with some of my friends when I was little and it was a lot of fun,” he explained, with a dazed look of happiness appearing on his face, as he recollected those fond memories.  However, his sudden change of gears momentarily confused me.  I looked at Pat and tried to unravel this apparent contradiction in attitude. 

“I’m sorry, Pat,” I informed him, “but I don’t understand.  One minute you’re complaining about the boys running around the house naked and now you’re excited about possibly going skinny-dipping with them.  I’m not sure I see any difference between the two.”

Pat suddenly became morose again and dropped his head toward the carpet.  “I don’t really mind the boys being naked, I was just worried that it might mean other things would happen.”

“Like what?” I pressed. 

Patrick turned his head away from me and I began to hear him sniffle.  I put my arm on his shoulder to comfort him, but he quickly jerked away from me.  “What’s the matter, Pat?  I just want to help.”

“I’m sorry.  It’s not you.  It’s just…” His words died off and he looked toward the window, as his body shuddered from the sobs that were now coming from him.

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to worry about it here,” I tried to reassure him.  “I’m willing to listen, if you need to get whatever it is off of your chest.  Sometimes it helps to just tell someone else what’s wrong.”

He turned and looked at me, trying to size me up and determine if he felt he could share this secret with me.  After several minutes of internal debate, he gave in and told me the basis for his problem.

“It happened when I was living with my mom.  She had this boyfriend who lived with us and he would make me run around naked whenever she was gone or if she was passed out from drinking.  Then he would do things to me and would make me do some of those same things to him too.  The worse part about it was that I enjoyed some of the things we did, but I couldn’t stand the others.  Some of the things he tried hurt me a lot, but he wouldn’t stop doing them.  I was afraid that was going to happen here too, just like then.”

“That certainly won’t happen here,” I countered, in as soothing a tone as I could manage after hearing his story.  “How old were you when this happened?”

“I think I was twelve,” he replied.

“Did you ever tell anyone else?” I asked, wondering if he wasn’t believed or if no one cared. 

“No,” he responded, looking guilty that he never spoke up about this until now.  “I was afraid if I did, my mom wouldn’t want me to live with her any more and I didn’t want to leave.”

“So this guy was never arrested for what he did to you?” I continued. 

“No.  Nobody else knew what was happening,” he informed me.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through something like that,” I told him with all of the heartfelt emotion I could manage, “but nothing of that nature will ever happen to you here.  We may touch each other to show affection or to let each other know how much we care about them, but we would never make you participate in any unwanted sexual activities.”  He looked up at me and studied my face.

“Do you really mean that,” he countered, “or do you do things like that with the boys too?” 

“No, Pat.  I’ve never had sexual relations with any of the boys,” I admitted honestly, “and if I touch them in an area such as that, it’s only for legitimate reasons.” 

“Like what?” he pressed, thinking I might be hiding something with my response.

“Like when Kevin told me he thought he had a lump on one of his testicles,” I explained.  “I checked it out to see if that was indeed the case, and then took him to the doctor, to have it tested.” 

“Oh,” he nearly whispered, apparently relieved.  “I’m glad to hear that.  You know, the one thing I’ve never been able to figure out is why I enjoyed some of the things he did to me?”

“It was because he was sexually stimulating your body, at a time when you were physically maturing and just becoming aware that such feelings could be pleasurable.  Under those circumstances, your body would enjoy some of what he did to you, whether you agreed to do them or not.  I must tell you that some of the boys do experiment and try things like that with each other, but only with those who want to do them.  It is a hard, strict rule here that nothing of that nature happens, unless everyone agrees to it and wants it to happen.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied, while considering the implications of my statement.

“If there were things that you enjoyed and wanted to do again,” I continued, “it’s possible you might be able to find a partner here, who would be willing to help you.  The difference is, you will never HAVE to do anything you do not wish to do, at least not of a sexual nature.  You may be asked to do chores or help out when you don’t wish to, but nothing sexual will ever happen without your consent.  If it does, you just have to tell me and it will end immediately.”  At this point, I wasn’t sure which Pat felt the most, relief that he wouldn’t be forced into anything or guilt over his earlier outburst. 

“I’m glad you made me talk about this,” he began, after a brief lull in our conversation, “and I’m sorry that I was such a jerk earlier.  It’s just…”

“There’s no need to explain further, Pat, and I’m sure the others won’t hold your little tirade against you,” I informed him.  “Would you mind if I gave you a hug, to make you feel better?”

He looked at me and a slow grin began to spread across his face.  “No.  I think that would be all right.  In fact, I think I might even like it.  I haven’t had anybody hug me just because they liked me or wanted to make me feel better for a really long time.  After that guy did those things to me, I guess I tried to make sure no one else would touch me again, for any reason.  I think it might be nice to get a hug without having to worry you want me to do something in return.”

I immediately reached out and pulled him toward me, slowly squeezing his body against my chest.  I felt him stiffen at first, as his reflexes kicked it.  It was obvious his instincts hadn’t caught up to his brain’s reasoning, but eventually he began to relax.  At that point, I felt his arms slide up my side, until he wrapped them about my waist, and then he hugged me back.  After that, I left it up to him to decide when he wanted to break this embrace.  Eventually, he let his arms fall back to his side and began to pull away from me.

“You know, I kind of enjoyed that,” he admitted a little sheepishly, “but now I have another problem.” 

“What kind of problem?” I asked, worried that another monster was about to rear its ugly head. 

“Well, it looks like I’m going to end up living here now,” he began, “but I don’t know what I should call you.  I know that the other boys call you ‘Dad,’ but I guess that’s probably because you adopted them.  What do you want ME to call you?”

“That’s up to you, Pat,” I added quickly, yet not overly forcefully.  “There are several possibilities, which I’ve gone over with all of the boys, at one time or another.  My name is Josh and you can call me that if you wish, but many of the boys called me ‘Dad’ long before I adopted them.  You could also do that, if you wish, or you can use another option I offered the others.  I told them they could also call me ‘Uncle Josh’ or you could do like some of their friends and call me ‘Pop’.  It all depends on what you’re comfortable with.  I’ll let you decide about this by yourself, because it’s an extremely personal decision.”

“Do you mind if I think about it for a while first?” he asked, while waiting to see how I was going to respond.

“No, take your time,” I assured him.  “I’m going to go back downstairs with the other boys and you can either come with me now or join us when you’re ready.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” he announced.  “There’s something I kinda need to do first.”

“Okay, take your time,” I agreed.  “You can join us whenever you’re ready. 

I walked back to the family room and joined the other boys.  They immediately began to fire questions at me, as soon as I entered the room, but I only told them that Pat seemed sorry about his outburst and had some personal issues to work out.  I then explained that I thought there wouldn’t be any further problems concerning their continuing with the nudie hour, and no sooner had those words spilled from between my lips, a bare-assed Patrick entered the room, paraded over to the sofa and sat down next to me.

“I’m sorry about earlier, guys,” he began, “and I thought you might accept my apology easier, if I joined in the fun.  I’m sorry if I insulted anyone or hurt your feelings.”

After getting over their initial shock at his sudden change in direction, the boys all assured him that everything was fine.  Almost immediately, the room filled with the sounds of boys being boys, as they began to frolic and enjoy each other’s company.  Patrick was soon accepted as part of the group and his 5” circumcised pole became a welcome addition to the parade of dicks that waved back in forth as they moved about the house, like the trunks of elephants, swaying lazily in front of each member of the herd as they meandered across the African plains.

When the TV shows were over and the boys headed to bed, I pulled Pat aside and told him how pleased I was that he was able to work out his feelings so quickly.  Not only that, but I expressed how proud I was of his ability to let down his guard and join in with the others, after having utilized that particular survival skill for so long, to prevent future abuse.  He apologized, again, for his earlier outburst, but I told him not to worry about it.  I did tell him that I was available if there was anything more he wished to discuss, either about that topic or whatever else he might wish to get off his chest.  After thinking this over for a few seconds, he hinted he might just do that, but he wasn’t ready quite yet to divulge more.  I accepted his hesitance and informed him that I’d be there, whenever he decided he was ready. 

Everyone slept well that evening and the house was very quiet.  I had just opened my eyes and noticed that the lighted display on my clock read twenty minutes before six, when I heard a scream from the next room.  I jumped out of bed and raced to the room where Pat was bunked, figuring he might have had a nightmare or had awakened and not realized where he was.  I had just passed through his doorway, when I observed the actual cause for this disturbance.  My three little monsters were on the bed with Pat, tickling him and smacking him with pillows.  By the time the rest of the boys came along to investigate the disturbance, the first four were all laughing and having a good time frolicking upon the bed.

“I can’t say you guys didn’t try to warn me,” Pat admitted, grinning.  “They nearly scared the shit out of me when they all pounced on my body at the same time.  The worst part was, they also interrupted a really great dream I was having.  You’re right, they are evil,” he added, with a smirk. 

Cole responded to his accusations first, by slamming him in the head with a pillow.  Seeing this, the other two immediately joined in this new assault.  Before I knew what was happening, the other boys ran into my room and grabbed pillows off of my bed, so they could help Pat battle my three little devils.”

“Hey, that’s no fair,” Graham chirped up, after discovering they were now outnumbered.  “There’s four of you and only three of us, and you’re bigger.”

“But you guys started it,” Dustin added, just before he got belted from behind and knocked on top of the others.  While they were bickering, I had slipped into the jungle room and grabbed a pillow for my own use and then came back to even out the teams, not that I was trying to encourage the incorrigible.

“All right, Dad’s on our side,” Ricky shouted, with an ear-to-ear grin.

“Only to even out the numbers,” I shot back, with just a bit of sarcasm dripping from my voice. “I don’t want you to assume this to mean that I don’t think that you three deserve exactly what you’re getting.  You antagonists deserve every bit of grief they can give you, just to make up for SOME of the wicked things you’ve done to us.”

“Aw, Dad,” Ricky countered.  “We only do it to show you that we love you.”

“Then we’d rather you didn’t love us at all,” Danny shot back, with an evil smirk on his face – an expression that was soon replaced by a pillow, which Graham had swung.

“You little devil,” Danny scolded, as he attacked and tickled Graham’s lithe frame.  “Now we’ll see how you like the way I show my love for you.”

“No, no,” Graham screamed, as he wiggled beneath Danny’s dexterous fingers.  “No, stop or I’m going to pee on Pat’s bed.”

“Make him,” Pat shouted.  “It’s really Ricky’s bed, not mine, and I’d like to see you make his little thing squirt all over.”

Everyone was laughing hysterically, as I heard the alarm go off in my room.  I went over to shut it off and then I came back to halt the activity.

“Okay, it’s time to stop and start getting ready for school.  Pat, you can use the bathroom in the master bedroom with Danny.  Kevin and Dustin use the one down the hall and the three brats here can use the one downstairs.”

“We’re not brats,” Cole pouted.

“Maybe not, but you’re not angels either,” I countered, which elicited similar reactions from the other two.

As the boys set about getting ready for school, I went down to the kitchen and started whipping up a huge pan of oatmeal and a large quantity of toast.  The ones who wanted dry cereal could get it out of the cupboard for themselves, but the hot food would be there and ready for whoever wanted it, by the time they reached the kitchen.  I helped myself to a small bowl of oatmeal, a couple of slices of toast and two cups of coffee, and had nearly finished all of it, before the last of the pack began to chow down. 

While they were eating, I went up to my room to take my shower and dress for work.  Once everyone was ready, we all loaded into the van and I dropped them off at their various schools.  I let the high school crowd off first.

“Pat, you’ll need to inform the guidance office about your change of residence and you can tell them that they may phone me at my school, if they need any additional information.”

“Thanks, I will.  Bye, guys,” he told the ones who were continuing on with me.  “I still owe you for this morning, so don’t think we’re even yet,” he warned them.  I think he just threw that comment in to keep at least two of the terrible trio on edge and make them wonder what he was going to do to get back at them.  It worked because they spent the rest of the trip discussing what they thought he might try to do to repay them for this morning’s wake up call.

The school day went smoothly and I went around to collect the rest of my boys after the day’s class schedule had been completed.  When I arrived at the high school, Pat was sitting on the ground, watching the three older boys going through their soccer drills.

“Do you play any sports?” I asked Patrick.

“No, I’ve never been in one place long enough to play on any teams and I think I’m too old to start now.”

“Maybe and maybe not,” I told him.  “What sports do you like or might you want to play?”

“Actually, I like to watch almost all of them and I don’t know which ones I’d like to play, because I’ve never actually had a chance to try.”

“Well, why don’t you explain your situation to the three who are out on the practice field after we get home,” I suggested.  “They might be able to start working with you in the evening and on weekends, and then you could see if you might be interested in trying out for one of the teams next season.  Those guys aren’t bad athletes themselves and they’re very patient teachers.  I’ve seen them work with the younger ones.  Actually, Danny helped Ricky become quite good at soccer, but I think Ricky is going to give it up after soccer season, because he wants the extra time to help Cole and Graham with their studies.  They are having a little trouble with their school work.”

“They really do a lot for each other, don’t they?” Pat commented.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group of guys who were willing to help each other out like they do.  They really do seem to love each other.”

“Yes, you’re right.  They do love each other,” I agreed, “and they are very supportive of one another.   They might also be willing to help you, if you let them know what you need.”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” he admitted.  “I think I might try it.  Thanks.”  He started to turn back to watch the practice, when he changed his mind and turned back toward me.  “You know, I think I’m going to like it here with you guys, if you don’t mind me staying.”

“Mind?  Heck, we’re counting on it,” I confirmed with a wink, which garnered a huge grin from Pat, in response.  I think we’ve made significant progress here. 

To be continued...

Posted: 07/06/12