Summer of Joy
(Revised)

By: Morris Henderson
(© 2009 by the author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 1

It was late June, the summer after my freshman year in high school.  I was bored.  During the school year, I had plenty to keep me busy with homework and, because both my parents worked, a few chores around the house like cleaning, doing the laundry, and preparing supper.  It was no fun doing the housework but it earned me a generous allowance.

I had lots of acquaintances but none of them I wanted to hang out with.  My only close friend was Brad who lived down the block.  We had known each other for years and, in spite of his being two years older than I, we spent a lot of time together and enjoyed each other’s company.  However, this summer was different.  He was 16 and was able to get a summer job with a landscaping company in order to pay for his car.  With him working from dawn to dusk all week, I only got to see him on the weekends.  Weekdays for me were miserable.  My two older sisters were married and moved out, leaving me alone in an empty house.

Brad’s phone call on Thursday night asking if I’d like to go camping with him over the weekend was more than welcome and I eagerly accepted.  I knew my parents would grant permission.  They had frequently obsessed to me about my lack of friends.  They knew Brad to be “a good Christian boy” and, in their estimation, a good influence on me.  That I had no circle of friends was my choice.  Yes, I was a real loner.  Except for Brad who I felt was like the big brother I never had.

I got all of my stuff together on Friday.  Brad said I would need only a change of clothes and a few items of canned or dry food because he had a tent and sleeping bags. I impatiently waited for Saturday when Brad would pick me up in his five-year-old Ford for the drive to ... where?  In my enthusiasm over the invitation, I neglected to ask where we would be camping out.  That upset my parents who wanted to know where I would be.

Brad rang the doorbell promptly at nine Saturday morning.  My dad answered the door and invited him in.  Immediately after greeting him, he asked where we would be camping.  He told them it was a State Park about 50 miles west of town.  Satisfied, my parents bid us goodbye with the obligatory warning to be careful.

Once in the car and on the way, Brad explained that another of his friends, Tom, who was 15, would be joining us.  I didn't know Tom that well although he sometimes joined Brad and me for movies, hikes, and other activities.  He was quite shy and bookish and a bit of a loner much like me but it was Brad’s party and he could invite whomever he liked.  I hoped that the three of us would get along for two days.

During the hour-long drive out of town and through a rural area, we chatted about the adventure we were about to have.  Both Tom and I wanted to know what kind of place we would be camping in but all he would say was, “You’ll like it, I’m sure.”  The mystery prompted us to speculate -- often with jokes and wise-cracks -- about where he was taking us.

Brad turned off the highway onto a dirt road that wound its way through a thick pine forest.  It was not the State Park Brad had mentioned to my parents.  I challenged him on that but he still refused to tell us anything about the spot we were going to set up camp.

“He’s kidnapping us for ransom!” Tom exclaimed in mock horror.

“No way,” Brad replied.  “Nobody would pay more than a few dollars for either of you.”

Finally, Brad pulled into a grassy area at the side of the dirt road.  “Grab your stuff,” he instructed.  “The camp site is about a half mile hike from here.”

“Great place to bury our bodies,” Tom said to me.  “Nobody will ever find us.”

“Wrong again,” Brad shot back.  “I’ll leave you on the ground for the animals to eat.”

A half-mile is not a great distance but we were tired from lugging our stuff when we walked out of the forest to see a beautiful lake shimmering in the late-morning sun.  Low, rolling hills, blanketed with thick pine trees, surrounded three sides of the lake.  A small grassy area stretched out between us and the shore.  It was gorgeous!

After setting up the tent, we were very hot and sweaty so I suggested a swim.  Tom complained that he hadn’t brought swim trunks.  Ignoring his objection, I pulled off my shoes, socks, shirt, and shorts and jumped into the lake with just my underwear on.  It didn't take long for Brad to follow my lead.  He immediately shed all his clothes except his boxers.  Tom seemed reluctant but stripped, probably because Brad and I had and he didn’t want to be seen as a sissy.

It was then, for the first time, I noticed Brad seemed to be quite well hung.  His wet underwear revealed that his dick was something to be proud of.  I had noticed, over recent years, that there was a bulge in his crotch but my interest had been only wondering how much his penis had grown since we were little boys and whether my own penis would continue to grow like his seemed to have.  I had never seriously regarded him as a potential jerk-off buddy.  For that matter, I had given very little thought to having anyone to jerk off with.  Occasionally, especially in the last few months, I wished that I could but there was no one in particular that seemed to be a likely or desirable candidate.  It wasn’t that long ago that I discovered, quite accidentally, the pleasures of orgasm and I had been content with solitary although frequent masturbation. 

As we frolicked in the water, I found myself stealing glances at the others’ bodies and, more particularly, at what they had between their legs.

Brad’s wet boxers clung to a bulging outline of his dick that, at times, quite clearly defined its size and shape.  The thin material also revealed a shadowy hint of ample pubic hair that was intriguing, to say the least.  The sight gave rise, for the first time, to thoughts of Brad masturbating his hard dick but those thoughts were quickly dismissed because he was, as my parents repeatedly said, “a good Christian boy.”  I knew better than to get caught starring; that sort of behavior would bring taunts of “queer” or worse.  Still, I took advantage of several opportunities for a momentary look at his crotch.

The need to see more, however, gradually changed from simple curiosity to a distraction.  It then became an obsession.  I wanted to see his cock in more than a revealing outline in his wet boxers.  But how could I see his manhood?  Somehow, I had to get him to take his underwear off.  Then, I had an idea.  We were all standing in chest-deep water at the time.  I pulled off my own underwear, balled it up and threw it onto the shore, telling the guys that I figured I would let my underwear dry so I could wear it later.  As further encouragement, I said, "Hey, skinny dipping feels great!  Have you guys done this before?  You should try it!"

My strategy worked.  In a flash, I saw Brad's boxers land on the riverbank next to mine.  Tom hesitated for a while but eventually followed suit.  I suppose it was only succumbing again to the implied peer pressure that is so powerful among teens.  Unfortunately, we were all chest-deep in the water and I couldn't get a good look at either of their cocks.  And I really wanted to see if Brad's was as good as it looked through his wet underwear.  As we splashed around, however, I caught glimpses of Brad's and Tom's soft dicks.  Tom's was about the same as mine (about three inches when soft).  But Brad's!  When he stood up in knee-high water I got a good look and could tell it hung down more than five inches.  For 16 he had the biggest, fattest dick I had ever seen.  Nothing I had seen in the locker room at school or the gym compared.  If it was that big when soft, I wondered, what might it look like hard and how long might it get?  I wanted nothing more at that moment than to see it hard before the camping trip was over.  If I played my cards right, I might get the chance.

After some more swimming and horse-play, Brad got out of the water and ran to hang up our underwear on a tree branch to dry.  As he returned, I stared at his crotch with his large, soft dick bobbing as he walked and his balls swinging freely below.  It convinced me that I had to see it hard before the trip was over.  I hoped Brad hadn’t noticed me staring at him.  What he would think?

Brad returned to the lake, waded out a short distance and then suddenly dropped out of sight.  It seemed to be a long time before he surfaced and I began to worry about him.  He was an excellent swimmer but where was he?  Then I saw him swim, still under water, toward me.  As he passed me, I felt him grab one of my ass cheeks and squeeze it.  I yelped with surprise.  Tom didn’t know what had happened and asked if I was all right.  Before I could answer, Brad surfaced, laughing uproariously.  He was laughing so hard it gave me time to duck under the water and swim toward him.  I grasped his muscular ass cheek and squeezed.

And then the fun began!  Several minutes of ass-grabbing ensued while trying to avoid each other and hurling friendly insults when an attempt was unsuccessful.  Even Tom, who had been shy up to that point, eventually joined in -- more to conform, I thought, than to participate in the game.  As far as I could tell, however, there wasn’t anything sexual about our horsing around; it was just a game in which Brad, being slightly larger and stronger, scored the most points by far.

At one point, Brad charged at me underwater.  I didn’t have time to get away from his attack so I swiveled so that my ass, his target, was facing away from him.  I planned to grab his ass as he passed by.  Brad, however, changed tactics and in so doing changed the rules of the game.  Instead of grabbing my ass, he grabbed my cock and yanked it!  It flabbergasted me.  Brad surfaced, laughed, and exclaimed, “Gotcha!”

My first thought was to get him back ... in the same way he got me.  I was motivated as much by the exciting prospect of actually getting my hand on his impressive dick as by getting revenge.

In spite of several attempts, I was not quick enough or agile enough to achieve my objective.

All that changed when Tom surprised me.  He slipped behind Brad, grabbed him in a full-nelson, and yelled to me, “Get him, Brian!”  I was even more surprised when Brad who could have broken the hold, just stood there as if daring me to do anything.  We were in waist-deep water.  I waded over to him with a wicked expression.  I would even the score by giving his cock several tugs and perhaps squeezing his balls.

He could have easily raised his feet and pushed me away but he just stood there.  My gawd, I thought.  Why isn’t he escaping?  Did he WANT me to grab his cock? 

Our eyes locked onto each other’s as I continued to wonder whether Brad had quit the playful game and wanted something more significant ... something sexual ... something forbidden.  He had started the ass grabbing game.  He escalated it from grabbing ass to grabbing cock.  Moreover, he didn’t just grab and retreat; he seemed to hold on to my cock for as long as he could before I broke free.  And now he was, in effect, offering his cock to me with no hesitation or resistance. 

In all the years we had known each other, I never suspected that he might be gay.  I was sure that he didn’t suspect my secret: that I had far more fascination with boys than girls.  Even during our brief face-off while Tom held him and Brad didn’t break free, I couldn’t be sure that he wanted what I wanted.

I grinned.  He grinned back.  That was the moment I knew.  I knew that Brad had the same needs as I did.  I reached down under the water.  Rather than aggressively grabbing and yanking his cock, I began gently fondling it.  Brad continued to smile and let me have my way with him.  Just as I felt his cock begin to swell, Tom said, “Hey!  Are you going to get him or not?”

Without breaking eye contact with Brad, I replied, more to Brad than to Tom, “I just did.  And it was the first of many.”

Brad smiled, confirming conclusively that he enjoyed what I did and would welcome more of the same.

We splashed and fooled around in the water for another half hour.  I joined in but I continued to wonder about Brad’s unexpectedly docile behavior when I fondled his dick.  And there was his smile as I did it.  Could it really mean...?

Very tired, we climbed back onto the shore, retrieved our clothes (except for the still-wet underwear), and dressed.  We had lunch of sandwiches and Pepsi and then decided to take a hike through the forest.  As we explored the idyllic surroundings, Brad and I would frequently exchange glances.  Although we had been friends for a long time, there seemed to be a something new ... something special behind each of our smiles to each other.

We returned to the campsite around four, hot and sweaty.  There was unanimous agreement that another dip in the lake was what we needed.  This time, there was no horsing around; we simply soaked in the refreshing water.  Even the conversation was muted.  It was a time for relaxation.  And, for me, reflection.  My thoughts focused exclusively on Brad (and, I hoped, his on me).

Tom suggested we get dressed and have supper.  Brad then said, “How about you gather some firewood.  I’ll cook supper.  Brian can wash up the plates.  Is that okay with you guys?”

Tom and I agreed.  Tom left to get dressed and gather firewood.  Brian smiled at me.  I smiled back.  He started floating on his back, leaving his torso and legs angled down into the calm water.  I regretted that what interested me most was submerged and I had only a blurred image of his private parts.

“This feels wonderful,” he said.  “Why don’t you try it?”

I did.  And Brad lost no time in wading over to me.  “Let me help you relax,” he said.  He placed his hand in the small of my back, and lifted me so that my chest, stomach, and upper legs were above the surface of the water.  My cock was fully exposed.  Significantly, he didn’t hide his eyeing of my cock and balls.  Soon, I felt his hand slipping down to my ass and a finger exploring my crack.  I felt my cock swelling.  When he found my pucker and sensuously rubbed his finger back and forth across it, my mind was a jumble.  Brad, my best and only close friend and the boy who my parents regarded as “a good Christian boy” was doing something undeniably sexual to me.  Not that I cared, mind you.  I welcomed the attention and felt very aroused and happy.

We didn’t speak.  Words were unnecessary.  I closed my eyes and gave a sigh to let him know I liked what he was doing and to encourage him to continue.

He accepted my invitation.  With his free hand, he began to fondle my hard-on, which began to twitch.  The pleasurable sensations radiated from my cock throughout my body.  I had never dreamed of such bliss.  After a few moments of pure ecstasy, I opened my eyes, looked down at Brad and smiled my appreciation.  He returned the smile.  That exchange was the final, irrefutable affirmation of having morphed from being good friends to being bound to each other because of our mutual interests.

My cock was oozing precum and forming a string down to the upper edge of my still-sparse pubic hair where it formed a puddle.  Brad began stroking my cock -- slowly at first and causing my foreskin to slide up and down over my increasingly sensitive cock head.  Quite willingly and very gratefully, I let him masturbate me, anticipating a thoroughly satisfying orgasm.

He gradually increased the pace.  It was no longer in doubt that he was going to take me all the way to orgasm.  Just as I began to feel the first signs of impending climax, my reverie was interrupted by Tom’s calling from the shore, “Firewood is ready, guys!”

Brad immediately stopped, removed his hands from my body, and exclaimed, “Damn!”

I struggled to gain my footing, stood next to Brad, and said, “Double damn.  I was so close.”

“I’m sorry, Brian,” he said sincerely.  “I thought we would have more time.  But we’ll resume later.  Don’t go right to sleep tonight.  We’ll sneak off into the forest when Tom is asleep.  I’ll finish what I started then.”  He took my hand and placed it, under water, on his very hard, very rigid dick.  “And you can play with this, too” he grinned.

Brad fixed a meal of smoked sausages, hash brown potatoes, and raw carrots.  Tom raved about how good it was.  I enjoyed it but not as much as I could have for two reasons.  First, I was preoccupied with the promise Brad had made about sneaking off when Tom was asleep.  The second reason distracted me more.  Brad would, first subtly but increasingly blatantly, stare at me while he put a sausage or a carrot in his mouth and suggestively suck on it.  Before the meal was finished, I had a raging hard-on.  When he brought out the bananas from his backpack, I knew what he would be doing so I mimicked his behavior, which made him smile.

Tom, in the meantime, was playing it cool and aloof.  But he had evidently noticed because he said, “You guys are sick!”

“What do you mean?” we both answered with feigned innocence.

“The way you were sucking on the sausages, carrots, and banana.  You think I’m stupid?  I know what you were doing,” he declared.

“Just savoring the meal,” Brad shot back.  “Remember what Freud said.  Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.  Who’s sick?  Somebody enjoying a meal or somebody who sees it as symbolic sex?”

“Okay, okay,” Tom said.  “I’m sorry.”

Brad and I were more careful from then on.  Neither of us wanted to reveal our secret.

I washed the dishes in the lake and we sat around the campfire talking about everything and nothing until the fire was just embers and it started to get chilly.  Brad doused the remaining embers with a pan of water from the lake and we moved into the tent.  Three sleeping bags in a two-person tent presented a problem but we finally settled in with Brad in the middle and very little space between us.

We lay there wordlessly waiting for Tom to fall asleep.  I was so impatient, it seemed to take forever.  I was tired but I was wide-awake and alert, waiting for my adventure into the woods with Brad.  I was getting hornier by the minute.  The only sound was the rhythmic chirping of crickets outside the tent ... until I heard another sound.  It took a while for me to recognize it.  It was the almost imperceptible sound of a zipper.  Shortly after that, I heard it again and wondered what was going on.  Then I felt a slight draft on my left side immediately followed by Brad’s hand slipping into my sleeping bag and reaching for my dick, which was half-hard but quickly rose to attention as Brad began to fondle it.  Joining in the clandestine activity, I reached into Brad’s sleeping bag.  It took a bit of maneuvering but I finally found his cock that I was pleased to discover was as hard as my own.

We quietly fondled each other for the next several minutes -- no stroking that would cause orgasm, just gentle holding and exploring.  Each of us was lost in the pleasure of the stimulation and the anticipation of what was to come.

Finally, Brad withdrew his hand and rolled over, purposely bumping against Tom who didn’t move but continued breathing slowly.  Very carefully, Brad and I rose, slipped on our trousers and shoes, and crawled out of the tent.  We walked quietly for about 20 yards with only the dim moonlight to guide our steps.  Brad had more foresight than I did.  He switched on a battery camp light to illuminate our way.  He had also thought to bring along a blanket.  About 20 yards further into the forest, he whispered, “I think this will be safe.”  He spread the blanket on the ground, lay down on it, and whispered, “Are you ready for some fun?”

I whispered back, “I’ve been ready since you suggested it.”  I lay down beside him.

“Good,” he grinned.  He wasted no time and began immediately to unbutton the waistband of my trousers and zip down my fly.  “Now I can finish what I started,” he said.  He pulled my pants down just far enough to gain access to my waiting cock but no further.  “It’s chilly, Brian. As much as I want to, I’m not going to strip you naked.”

My cock had begun to engorge when Brad pulled down my trousers.  When he started to fondle it, it went into overdrive and was fully erect in no time.  Before he started to stroke me, I said, “Can I play with yours, too?”

He chuckled and changed positions so that his pelvis was at my eye level and mine with his.  He pulled down his pants to reveal his magnificent, half-hard cock that was soon brought to full firmness as I deliriously fondled it while enjoying the sensations he created in my own.  We stroked each other, each of us lost in waves of pure pleasure, for several minutes.  Then I felt something warm and wet encircle my cock.  I looked down.  He was sucking it!  And flicking his tongue up and down the shaft and teasing my sensitive cock head.  The sensations were several times more intense than when he was jerking me with his hand.  I wanted to give him the same pleasure but the thought of having a penis in my mouth held me back.  I was not so innocent that I didn’t know about blowjobs and often wished someone would give me one.  But the prospect of sucking another guy’s dick turned me off.  But this was Brad.  My best and only good friend.  The one who I had liked for years.  He was willing to suck my dick.  It was extraordinarily arousing and pleasant.  Shouldn’t I do the same for him?

Tentatively, I took just the tip of his cock into my mouth.  It was not at all gross.  It was tremendously arousing.  I began to match his movements and it wasn’t long before his dick was slick with my saliva as I took more and more of it into my mouth.

Just as I got fully into the enjoyment of sucking his cock, I felt the unmistakable sensations of emerging orgasm.  “Oh my Gawd!” I thought.  I don’t want to squirt into his mouth!  I pulled off his dick and exclaimed, “Let go, Brad!  I’ve got to cum!  NOW!”  His response was the last thing I expected.  Pulling firmly on my bare ass and tightening his lips around my cock, he took the entire length into his mouth and increased the pace of his sucking.  I couldn’t control either my raging cock or my voice.  I felt the cum erupt out of my dick and I screamed in ecstasy.  Brad milked me dry as I lay there moaning with pure delight.

My dick softened in his mouth as I came down from orbit.

“Why’d you do that?” I asked.  “I warned you.”

“Two reasons,” he replied.  “I wanted to see if your cum tasted any different than my own.  More than that, I thought you would enjoy it more.  Did you?”

“It was friggin awesome!” I blurted out.  “I never even imagined that it would be so ... so ... so fan-friggin-tastic!”

I suddenly got the urge to do for him what he had done for me and I swallowed as much of his cock as I could.  No more hesitation over having a cock in my mouth.  Not even any indecision about having his cum filling my mouth or swallowing it.  I worked his long rod for several minutes and began to wonder if I was doing something wrong because he wasn’t ejaculating.  Then I heard him say, “I’m ready, Brian.  You don’t have to take it in your mouth.”

He took mine.  I was determined to take his.  I locked my lips around his shaft, grabbed his ass, and pulled him into me.  His moan was muted as he bucked his hips, forcing his cock to the back of my throat.  I felt several volleys of cum blast forth.  It was a struggle but I managed to swallow it all.

While Brad recuperated, I played with his softening cock and occasionally licking off the last drops of cream that oozed out of his slit.  I decided that his tasted much better than mine but perhaps that was because it was his.

Eventually, we were forced by the chill in the air to make our way back to the tent.  Tom was still sleeping soundly.  We carefully slipped into our sleeping bags so as not to wake Tom.  It was a long time before I could fall asleep.  But that was okay.  I had a lot to think about: my first sex with another guy.  Not just any guy, either.  It was Brad, my best friend, who -- until our sexy play in the lake that day -- was a long-time buddy.  Now, he meant far more to me.  We had intimately shared our bodies, our secret selves, and our seed.

Eventually, we both yielded to sleep ... with each of us resting a hand on the other’s cock.

***************

My next conscious thought -- or almost conscious since it always took me a while to wake up unless it was to shut off the alarm clock -- was of a warm and very pleasant feeling in my cock.  As I shook off the sleepiness, I realized that the pleasant feeling was Brad’s hand fondling my morning woody.  Suddenly realizing where we were, I sat bolt upright.

“Relax, Brian,” Brad cooed.  “Tom’s gone off to get firewood.  He said he’d build a fire to chase away the morning chill for us.  We’re alone.  At least for a little while.”

He smiled at me -- something he’d done a thousand times over the years we’d know each other.  But this smile was not the same.  It warmed my heart.  It seemed to represent somehow the new relationship we had formed in the forest.  Or was the sex in the woods a dream.  No.  It was real.  My first real sex.  And with a boy I liked more than any other.  A boy I was very fond of (although I didn’t realize at the time the full significance of my affection for him).

“Any regrets about last night?” Brad asked.

“NO!  It was wonderful.  I never expected it to happen but I’m grateful that it did ... grateful to you.  You made me very happy.”

“I know what you mean,” he replied thoughtfully.  “Can I tell you a secret?  I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time.  Not with just anybody.  With you.  You say you’re very happy.  Imagine how happy I am after waiting and longing for you.  We were friends as kids but for the last year or so I’ve come to like you more and more.  I’ve watched you as you’ve begun to develop into a man.  That put a whole new dimension on why I like you.  Do I have to spell it out?  Since you’ve grown, I’ve fantasized about you.  I imagine that you’re with me when I jerk off.  Does that sound sick?  I don’t think so.  I want to be more than your friend, Brian.  I want to have sex with you again and again ... whenever we can.  That would mean we’d be even better friends.  Are you willing?”

I couldn’t help it.  Tears formed in my eyes.  I fell across his chest and cried.  He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight.  His embrace felt wonderful.

I fought to gain control of my tears and my voice, and was finally able to blubber, “What you just said was better than last night.  Now I know it was more than just sex.  I don’t know if I deserve you but I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

I dissolved into tears again.  Brad didn’t say a word.  He just continued to hug me.

At the worst possible moment Tom stuck his head into the tent.  “Fire’s ready,” he called out.  Then, seeing me in Brad’s arms, he exclaimed, “What the fuck?”

Brad, bless him, was a quick thinker.  “Bad dream,” he said.  “He’ll be all right in a little while.  We’ll be out when he feels better.”

I marshaled all the self-control I could to stem my tears and regain control of myself.  “That was brilliant, Brad.  Thanks.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was relatively calm.  However, I had to pee without delay.  Brad and I dressed quickly and walked to the edge of the clearing to empty our bladders and then joined Tom by the fire.

“You okay, Brian?” Tom asked.

“A little embarrassed, maybe,” I replied.  “But yes, I’m fine now.”

We munched on breakfast bars, apples, and Pepsi as the fire provided the welcomed warmth in the chilly morning air.  We talked for a couple of hours -- again about everything and nothing -- until the sun chased away the chill.

How about a dip in the lake before we have to pack up and go home?” Brad asked.  We agreed and all of us stripped off our clothes.  But the water seemed colder than the previous day and we soon got out to sit on a rock ledge that had been warmed by the sun.  Tom wanted to put his clothes back on right away but we persuaded him to sit with us in the nude to dry off first.

Brad sat in the middle and within a few minutes moved his leg so that his bare thigh was pressed against mine.  Because of what we had done the night before and what he said in the morning about becoming sex partners, my mind was consumed with desire and affection for him.  That, of course, triggered a stirring in my cock that I fought to control.  My efforts were defeated, however, when he laid a hand on my thigh and gently squeezed.  My cock rose to full mast.  Glancing down at his, I noticed he was also developing a hard-on.

I worried about that because of what Tom would think of us.  I worried more when I saw that he was starring, without comment, at our erections.  The sight of our hard cocks must have excited him because his cock was rising.  He was shyer than me and initially made awkward attempts to hide his hard cock from view.

Brad made light of the situation.  “I guess we’re all healthy males,” he laughed.

“And proud of it,” I countered as I fondled myself.

With only a few more joking comments, all three of us were creating opportunities to show off our hard cocks to each other.  I was pleased that Tom seemed to have overcome his shyness and modesty.  Brad’s comments, however, were increasingly suggestive and, it seemed to me, designed to encourage Tom to do more with his cock that merely allow it to be seen.

We hung around on the rocky ledge for a long time buck-naked.  It felt so incredible to not have to wear clothes.  By this time, I no longer felt reluctant to admire Brad's cock, firm round butt, and solid body.  I did a lot of that and enjoyed every minute.  Brad, of course, couldn't help but notice me admiring his masculinity and seemed to create opportunities to give me a good show.  And I noticed him checking out my equipment as well.  Shy Tom no longer tried to cover his private parts but neither did he go out of his way to display what he had.  Still, I noticed that he studied Brad and me whenever he thought we weren't paying attention.

Over time, our cocks relaxed and, as it was getting close to noon, Tom suggested we have something to eat.  He reached for his clothes but Brad interrupted him by saying, “Just shoes, Tom.  If we’re going to be out enjoying nature, let’s go natural.”

“Great idea!” I said.  I slipped on my shoes and walked back to the tent to pull out some snacks to eat.  Brad was right behind me.  Tom, after hesitating, left his clothes in a pile and joined in.

After eating there was still plenty of daylight and I wanted us to get stiff again.  I sat on a submerged rock at the edge of the water.  My legs, ass, and crotch were in the water, leaving my torso high and dry.  The rock was wide enough for three (barely) and I invited Tom and Brad to sit with me.  Neither one hesitated to join me.  Both, I think, were eager to play another game if it got them hot and hard.  I sat in the middle, and they squeezed in on either side of me.  Now our bare bodies were tightly pressed together, from our chests to our toes.  Wet flesh felt great!   Our soft cocks were bobbing right at the surface of the water.  

Then Tom said "My dick won't stay submerged."  Sure enough, he was getting hard.  It was odd that he, the shy guy, was the first to show arousal at our being tight up against each other's bodies.  Brad and I both got aroused at seeing Tom's blooming cock and at being squeezed up against each other.   My dick rose quickly; Brad's dick took a little longer.  I wished I had a picture of this (besides the mental one I would always have) of us -- three naked, glistening, teenage boys sitting pressed together with our hard-ons poking out of the water.

Tom was pushing his dick into the water, trying to hide it.  Of course, this only made it stiffer.  I was casually stroking my dick.  I asked Tom if he ever jacked off.  He shyly admitted that he did. 

"Well, if you want to, I don't mind" I told him.

"Let’s do it together," Brad quickly added.  Clearly, Brad was as eager for sexual fun as I was.  I wasted no time and started jacking myself.  Brad started stroking his huge cock.  My right elbow was bumping him in the chest because we were pressed together so tightly.  Tom was watching us wide-eyed, and Brad told him to get busy like the rest of us.  I had jerked off hundreds of times by myself but the sight of two others joining me gave me a thrill I'd never had before.  I was ready to cum in record time and told the others, "Watch this," and shot four or five hard spurts of white cum into the air, which then splashed into the water, onto me, my leg, and Brad’s. 

Brad laughed and said, "I can do better than that!"  In about 20 seconds he moaned and shot a long pearly rope of cum into the air.  It arched gracefully up and then down, most of it landing on my chest and my right arm and shoulder.  Obviously, he had aimed it at me.  The warm feeling was almost too much.  I wiped off a handful and spread it on my cock which was beginning to go soft but, with Brad's slippery goo, came to attention again.  Finally Tom came, after I urged him to hurry and squirt like the rest of us.  He lifted his ass up, arched his back, and blew a load all over his belly, and down his hand.  We sat there a few more minutes laughing and resting.  Our cum floated away in the water between our legs.  We crawled into the water, washed off the remaining cum, and got dressed.

We hiked back to Brad’s car and he drove us home, dropping Tom off first.

“That was one terrific weekend,” I said as he pulled up in front of my house.

Brad shot me a devilish grin and held my hand in both of his, saying, “It was wonderful.  Especially because you were there. We’ll have to do it again.  Next weekend?”

“That would be wonderful,” I smiled back.

***************

The following Friday, Brad picked me up after supper.  I was elated that we would be able to spend two nights with Brad but was disappointed to see Tom in the car.  That would spoil my quality time with Brad.

The sun had set when we finally arrived at the lake.  We had only enough time to set up the tent before it got dark.  We talked and joked for a while ... or at least Brad and Tom did.  I had little to say because I was thinking mostly about how to get together with Brad for some serious sexual play.

Eventually, we stripped down to our underwear and crawled into the tent to get some sleep.  Tom grabbed the middle position.  I wanted to sleep next to Brad but couldn't be too obvious in arranging it so I settled in, frustrated and angry with Tom.  I lay awake for what seemed to be an eternity, waiting for Tom to fall asleep and Brad to signal that we could sneak off into the woods.

I was surprised to feel something on my stomach.  It was a hand, gently moving down toward my underwear.  It was Tom’s hand!  Tom!  The shy guy!  I couldn’t believe it!  His hand was inching toward my cock.  I decided that I would pretend to be asleep and see what happened.  If he continued, I might like what he was doing.  If I said anything, he would stop and I might miss out on something.  As his hand slid into my briefs, I started to get hotter.  By the time his hand touched my cock, I was stiffening up.  He slowly explored my pubic hair and then moved on to fondle my cock that was soon rock hard.

I tried to figure out why Tom had the courage, much less the desire, to do this to me.  I concluded, however, that he was not all that different from me.  I was not as shy as he was but given the sexual play in the lake the previous weekend and all of us sprouting boners and showing off, I might very well do to him (or, preferably, to Brad) what he was now doing to me.

I listened carefully.  Brad’s breathing told me he was sound asleep.  That upset me.  I had fully expected him to stay awake and we could sneak off into the woods again.  But then I realized that he had been working long, hard hours all week.  I convinced myself that he had tried to stay awake but was just too tired to do so.

“Okay,” I thought.  “If I can’t have sex with Brad, I’ll settle for second-best.  I’ll let Tom do whatever he planned to do to me.”

He moved closer to me.  His hand lowered and caressed my balls.  Although I wanted to take a more active role in this game, I continued to pretend I was asleep.  I would just lie there and enjoy it.

Then he stopped!  There I was, hot, hard, and ready for action, and he stopped!  Just as I was about to tell him to keep going, I felt his hands slowly and gently lowering my underwear.  I dared to open my eyes enough to steal a glance.  He was now kneeling next to me.  He had taken off his briefs and was sporting a log.  Had I been asleep, his moving my underwear would surely have awakened me but I continued to pretend deep sleep.  He was moving slowly, so as not to wake me (Little did he know.) and I was getting hornier and harder.  Finally, my briefs were down, letting my prick taste the night air.  Each time he touched it, it would quiver.  I was thoroughly enjoying his invasion of my private parts but my cock and balls began to demand orgasmic release.  The urge intensified but Tom was not stroking hard enough to trigger a climax.  I desperately wanted to grab my cock, give it a couple of jerks, and spray cum over me and Tom but I lay still to see what he might do for me.  I was not to be disappointed.

His hand was gone for just a moment.  I opened my eyes slightly to see what he was doing.  Strangely, he was spitting on his hand.  Then he put his hand back to my begging cock.  It was now slippery and the sensation of his hand sliding with little friction over the head of my cock almost caused me to moan.  He began gently rubbing the head of my fully engorged cock.  The sensation nearly drove me wild.  It was all I could do to continue pretending to be asleep.  He used one finger, two fingers, or the palm of his hand to continue rubbing, ever so gently the tip of my cock.  He would slowly circle the base and then softly ascend up to the top and the piss hole.  He would occasionally spit in his hand to keep everything moist.  When his hand returned, with fresh warm saliva, my cock welcomed it by growing harder.  Tom obviously knew what he was doing.  He knew methods I hadn't discovered.  And it was wonderful.  My jerking off had always been a dry "grasp the shaft and pump" method.  The warm moist saliva and the almost maddening rubbing of the tip of the cock was a new and extremely stimulating sensation.

When I thought I could stand it no longer and was on the verge of grabbing my pleading cock and jerking it to release the intense pressure of what must now be a river of cum, I felt the unmistakable onset of orgasm.  I felt the cum rise through the shaft of my cock as I had never felt it before.  My cock quivered.  No, convulsed is a better description.  The cum swelling in my cock built up a massive and intense sensation.  The stream of cum emerged with such pressure that I was sure it would shoot over my head and all over my face.  But Tom's hand diverted it all onto my stomach.  I couldn't help moaning in sheer delight.  But I continued the pretense.  I lay quietly and tried to breathe deeply while I decided what to do next.  I surely didn't want to wake in the morning with cum all over because of what Brad might think.

After a moment or two, I felt something on my stomach again.  In the dim light, I could see Tom licking up the pools of cum to clean up my mess.  He would use his tongue to lick up some of the still warm cum, draw it into his mouth, and slowly swallow it before returning for more.  His obvious delight in this told me that he must have been relishing his own cum when he masturbated on his own.  It was also strangely exciting to watch him and I noticed that my cock was still hard and erect.  Whenever I had jacked off before, my cock went soft right away but watching Tom kept me stimulated.

When the last drop of cum was cleaned up, Tom ever so gently pulled my briefs back up and lay back down.  After a very short time, I rolled onto my side, laid my arm across Tom's chest and whispered into his ear, "Thanks.  Can I return the favor?"  He was stone silent for a long time and didn't say a word.  “It’s okay,” I assured him.  “I enjoyed it.”

Finally, he asked, "Were you awake?" 

"Yes," I said, "the whole time.  And I'd like to do the same for you." 

Again, a silent pause before he said, "Sure.  And thanks."

I repeated the process he had shown me.  Along the way, he softly gave me some more tips on what to do and how to do it.  I've used these tips frequently on myself since that night and they increased my masturbation pleasure.  I'll always be grateful to Tom but my affection was reserved for Brad.

I was lying with my head on his stomach so as to be close and get a good look at his cock.  When he was ready to cum, he moaned, "Here I go!"  Without thinking about it, without even knowing what I was doing, I opened my mouth hoping to catch his squirting cum.  I was just in time to receive his load . . . or most of it.  Some dribbled out my mouth, down my chin, and onto his pubic hair.  I swallowed and sat up.  "Good timing," Tom said, "but next time, swish it around in your mouth for the full effect."  My word, the things I didn't know about Tom and about the finer points of jerking off.

We lay there on our backs a long time, fully awake but saying nothing.  My thoughts drifted to Brad who was breathing deeply.  I thought about his massive cock.  I thought about how his cock stood up above his beautiful sack of balls and in front of a thicket of pubic hair.  Mostly, I thought of that glorious time we had off in the woods when we sucked each other and what he said the next morning about wanting to be my sex partner.  I worried that I had been unfaithful to him by letting Tom jerk me off and, even worse, my jerking him off in return.  But, I rationalized, that was just sex; it had no basis in loyalty or affection or meaningful bonding.

Still, I thought Brad should be in on the fun and should know that Tom was not the modest prude that we initially thought.  Knowing that, we could all be freer to engage in sex and not worry about our secret needs being disclosed to those who wouldn’t understand.  Therefore, I said to Tom, "We've had our fun but poor Brad missed out."  Tom picked up on it and replied, "Well, what should we do about it?"  Without another word, we got up and positioned ourselves on either side of the sleeping Brad.

We turned on a flashlight to see Brad's beautiful cock better.  With the flashlight on, we gently lowered his briefs, first revealing the pillow of black curly pubic hair, then his cock (still soft but appearing enormous to both of us), then his balls hanging below.  We both starred for a long time, examining every curve, bulge, and feature of this enviable organ.  Tom made the first move.  He stuck a finger in Brad's hair and twirled it round and round; I just watched.  He then moved down to the balls and fondled them.  I could see Brad's cock very slowly and very slightly enlarging.  I was content to watch but found myself slowly stroking my cock that was hardening anew.

Tom licked his fingers and started gently rubbing the tip of Brad's cock which responded by swelling, lengthening, and then standing up.  Tom spit again and continued the routine, working around the base of the head and working up in a circular motion to his piss hole.  Brad inhaled sharply and both Tom and I froze.  We didn’t mind waking him but we wanted more time to play with his enviable cock.

His deep breathing resumed and I moved in to fondle his balls.  Brad was well endowed there, too -- firm round balls moving freely in a large sack.  It was a pleasure to see Brad's cock but to actually touch and rub it was even more arousing.  That strange feeling returned, not just curiosity, not just being adventuresome, but a desire.  Tom continued spitting and rubbing while I got a good close-up look at Brad's cock getting slightly larger all the time and responding with quivers.  When it seemed Brad was about to cum, I moved my hand back to my fully erect cock.  I noticed that Tom, too, was hard again.

Brad's cock convulsed and exploded a huge amount of cum which was deftly diverted by Tom's hand so that it pooled around Brad's navel.  Tom moved in to clean it up but I whispered "Wait, that's only a one-course meal."  I kneeled next to Brad and with only a few strokes shot a small amount of cum onto Brad's stomach where it merged with Brad's.

"Good idea," whispered Tom.  "Now I'll add the desert to this meal."  He kneeled, began to stroke and in a few moments deposited a third load of cum onto Brad's stomach.  "Want to share the feast?" Tom asked. 

"Just the first taste," I replied, "I want to swish some around like you said to see what it's like."

Tom smiled and said, "Okay, you first."  There was plenty of cum lying invitingly on Brad's stomach so I got a healthy portion in my mouth.  I tasted a medley of the warm juices from all of our cocks.  It was more than I had hoped for.  Tom then finished off the rather large pool of cum on Brad's stomach.

Look, I whispered, there's more oozing out of his prick.  I bent down and licked the fresh cum. Before savoring it, however, I wrapped my mouth around the head of Brad's huge cock and rubbed it with my tongue.  Brad's cock did not relax but quivered in my mouth.  Then I sat up to swish and swallow.

Tom and I sat there for a while when Brad's voice, loud and clear, exploded into our reverie, "Thanks, guys.  I thought you'd never get around to me."  Realizing that he had been awake all the time, we burst into laughter.

The next morning, when Brad and I were alone, he said, “I apologize for last night.  I tried to stay awake so we could sneak off together.  I’ve looked forward to being with you all week.  I did wake up when you and Tom were going at it but I decided to let you have your fun.”

“You’re not mad that we did it?” I asked.

“Hell, no.  I just wish that you and I had gone off together.  That would have been better.  Because you’re special to me.”

“Thanks,” I replied.  “For understanding.  And for saying I’m special to you.  Because you’re very special to me, too.”

We spent the entire day at the campsite in the nude.  We periodically splashed around in the lake but the highlights of the day were when we engaged in sex with each other -- sometimes one-on-one with the third person either watching or helping.  My favorite was when we daisy-chained in a threesome because I won the privilege of sucking Brad while Tom sucked me.  We were sated with sex by the time we climbed into our sleeping bags and probably had no more cum left.

In the morning, we packed our things and returned home.

I re-lived the experience in my mind frequently during the next few days.  Each time I remembered that wonderful weekend, I found myself getting hot and hard.  If I was around other people I would have to consciously divert my mind or they might see the rising bulge in my crotch.  If I was alone, however, I let things develop, using Tom's spit-rub method.  Sometimes, I would scoop up my cum and savor its taste before swallowing it.  I found myself jerking off two or even three times a day with the satisfaction enhanced because of the memories of Tom and Brad and our little orgy. 

Nearly every weekend that summer was spent at the lake.  The best of those were when Tom couldn’t come and it was just Brad and I.  On those weekends, it was more than sex games and sensual gratification.  I was with the boy I grew increasingly fond of and the emotions and satisfactions transcended mere sexual gratification.  Brad expressed similar feelings, telling me that it was special when it was just the two of us.

The few weekends we couldn't make the trip were disappointments but throughout the summer, we all enjoyed our solo jerks and looked forward to the next “sex camp.”  The low spot of the summer was when Brad was pressured by his family to take his cousin, Jimmy, to the lake.  He didn't want to but could think of no way to get out of it.  Tom and I were also disappointed but hoped for the best as we set off to our camping spot.  Brad made it very clear that we had to be on "good behavior" the whole time.

Having set up the tent, we went for a swim (complete with swim trunks, unfortunately).  Cousin Jimmy was having a great time while we longed for some real fun.  We couldn't help getting in some grabs and gropes (underwater or when Jimmy wasn't looking) but still felt extremely frustrated.  When finally we went ashore, we took off our wet trunks and longingly looked at the others’ cocks.  How inviting.  How close.  How impossible!

After eating, Brad suggested another swim.  Tom and I looked at him questioningly.  But he added, "My trunks are wet and cold.  I'm going to skinny-dip."  Tom and I nodded in agreement.

"You mean naked?" asked Jimmy.

"Sure," said Tom.  "Look, there's nobody around but us guys.  It's okay."  At this point, I had mixed feelings.  I wanted some naked fun, a good hard-on or two, and a genuine jerk.  But that was impossible with Jimmy among us.  Just getting naked and doing no more would be a real bummer.

In the water, with occasional glimpses of our three eager cocks and with memories of previous trips, it was impossible to stay soft.  Although none of us were showing off our equipment like we had before, it was still obvious that we were all aroused.  "Hey," Jimmy shouted, "you've all got boners!" 

"That's natural," Brad replied.

"Shucks," Jimmy boasted, "I get boners all the time."  None of us knew what to say and looked to Brad for guidance.  He just shrugged and went back to swimming.

It wasn't long before Jimmy stood up in the shallow water near shore, hands on his hips, pelvis thrust forward.  He was proudly displaying his hard little cock.  "See, I can do it, too," he shouted.  His cock was not big but it was relatively erect, standing there above a small sack of balls and in front of some sparse fuzz that would no doubt grow into a nice pubic patch before too long.  Normally, seeing another hard cock and thinking of what it could do with a little coaxing would turn me on.  But Brad's firm warning earlier dampened my desires.

"Good for you," Brad called, and immediately encouraged us to join in a final splash before going ashore.  I took that to mean, "Leave him alone . . . and leave yourself alone."

After eating, Brad sent Jimmy to the lakeshore to rinse the dishes.  Brad took the opportunity to say, "Sorry guys.  I'm really sorry.  I'll take Jimmy for a hike.  I'll be gone for at least 45 minutes.  You do what you want."  The meaning was clear and both Tom and I said, "Thanks."

Tom and I walked about 100 yards in the opposite direction to insure not being surprised if they returned early.  On a grassy spot, Tom lay down and I knelt over him.  I slowly pulled his tee shirt up to his arm pits and started massaging his chest, paying special attention to his nipples, and gradually downward.  As I loosened his belt, I noticed the obvious bulge in his crotch.  His eyes were closed, he was fully relaxed, but his cock was getting ready for action.  I moved my hand under his shorts and gently moved his cock into an upright position.  Then I removed my hand but massaged his growing cock through his clothes.  By the time I slowly lowered his shorts, I could see the spot on his briefs where the precum had been oozing.  He was ready to cum but was obviously enjoying the complete relaxation in every part of his body except the eager cock.  I lowered his briefs and exposed his not large but still interesting cock.  The sight of it made me go hard.  I continued with some massaging (abs, inner thighs, balls, but not cock).  The cock seemed to get slightly larger, firmer, and more erect each time I got my hands close to it.  Tom, by now, was quietly moaning.  I admit I enjoyed teasing him, getting him close but never doing enough to put him over the edge.  I expected him to say something to urge me along but he just moaned more loudly ... almost as if he were in pain.  (Later, he said that he was in pain but that you can enjoy pain.  And when you finally discharge, it's even more pleasurable.  Another lesson I learned from the boy who I thought was a shy prude.)  Now he was gently thrusting his hips slowly and then gradually faster.  I kept my hands on his thighs, balls, and pubes deliberately avoiding touching his cock.  His eyes were still closed, he was moaning more frequently, and the thrusting became more vigorous.

Suddenly, to my great surprise, his cock quivered as I watched the slight bulge rise quickly up the shaft of his cock from the balls to the tip where a stream of creamy fluid oozed slowly out of his cock head.  As the flow of cum subsided, it ran down into his pubic hair.  

After trembling for a few moments, he opened his eyes and looked at me.  "That was wonderful," he said.  "It's something I dreamed of being able to do.  I've called it a 'think off' rather than a jerk off.  Being able to cum without touching my cock, I mean.  Sure, you were a big part of it but you didn't touch my cock and I had one of the best orgasms ever.  Thanks."

Tom repeated the technique for me but, as good as he is with sensuous technique, it didn't work.  After several minutes of agony, I grabbed my steel-hard cock, gave it two strokes and let the cum fly. 

"Sorry," Tom apologized. 

"Don't be sorry," I assured him.  I just don’t have your self-control.  Or concentration.  Or whatever it takes.  I couldn't take the pressure."

"Maybe next time," Tom said.

"We'd better be getting back," I said.

Back in camp, Brad and Jimmy were just returning.  It was getting dark so we put a log on the fire for a little more light and went to bed.  It had been crowded in the tent with three of us but more so when Jimmy crawled into Brad’s sleeping bag for the night   I was longing for Brad.  But there was Jimmy to consider.  I fell asleep.

I felt a hand shaking my shoulder.  "Don't make a sound," whispered Brad, "and don't make any sudden moves.  Just look.  Down by the fire."  Jimmy was there by the dwindling fire.  The light of the fire was just enough to see that he had removed his briefs and was intently playing with himself.  I woke Tom in the same way Brad had roused me.  The three of us watched Jimmy exploring his emerging manhood.  He was on his knees with his ass sitting on his ankles.  His legs were spread wide apart and was stroking up and down feverishly with two fingers and thumb.  We watched but knew that we couldn’t let him see us watching.  It wasn't long before he slowed down, leaned his head backwards, and let a burst of cum shoot into the dying embers of the fire where it sizzled.  In a quiet but firm whisper, Brad said, "Don't even think about it.  He's not ready for prime time.  Leave him alone.  Besides, the risk is too great."

Jimmy quietly returned to the tent and lay down as I thought about his proudly displaying his boner earlier in the day and ecstatically jerking off late at night.  And then I thought of Brad.  He gave Tom and me a chance for a good time on this trip but had had none for himself.  I wondered why he was so willing to let Tom and I go off by ourselves.  Did he not mind my having sex with someone else?  No, I convinced myself.  He was just being considerate.

The trip with Jimmy was not a complete bust but it certainly wasn't the best.  Other weekends were much better.  We would strip off our clothes as soon as we arrived at the lake and never put them back on until it was time to return home.  Sometimes, our trips featured "normal" kinds of mutual masturbation which, don't get me wrong, was thoroughly enjoyable and provided a lot to look forward to during the week.  Sometimes, however, there were some creative activities that added even more variety and excitement.

There were competitions like the "time trial."  At some point when we were all completely soft one person would yell "time trial" and we would immediately get ourselves hard and jerk off.  The first one to cum was declared the winner and the other two had to stop for five minutes.  The winner then got to play with the others' cocks until they shot their load of cum.  If you don't win this one, it can be torture to be on the brink of orgasm and have to stop.  But then when the winner grabs your cock and brings you to release, the pleasure is magnificent.

There was also the "payload competition."  We all jerked off and shot all our cum into small paper cups.  The biggest load of cum was the winner who then could smear himself (or the others if he wanted) with all three cups of cum.  This usually kept everyone aroused beyond our orgasm because the winner inevitably smeared the losers in all the erotic zones.  Brad always won with the biggest payload and more often than not would spread cum over Tom.  Why did he choose Tom?  I convinced myself that he did it to help Tom come out of his shell of modesty.

We also had height competitions -- who could squirt his cum the highest onto a tree trunk -- and distance competitions -- who could squirt the farthest.  In this game, we quickly learned to cum while squeezing the base of our cocks to keep the cum inside under pressure.  Then, releasing our grip while using muscular control in our crotch we could almost double the distance we shot.

Another competition we called the endurance trial.  We would gather around and start to jerk off, continuing until the precum oozed out of our piss hole.  That started the clock.  The guy who waited the longest for a full ejaculation of cum without losing his erection was the winner.  This activity forced self-control, caused some frustration wanting to finish the job, but resulted in intense satisfaction when the pent-up cum finally spewed forth.

Sometimes, sitting around the campfire, we would tell tall-tales about our fantasies.  In our minds we experienced all kinds of masturbations ... solo in unusual ways or environments ... or with other real or imagined people -- both male and female.  There was some informal competition among us to see who could think up the most unusual and most satisfying ways to enjoy ourselves. 

With all the variety and pleasure of sexual release, we found that there would be times when one of us just couldn't get it up.  Brad was the first, on about our fourth trip.  He felt embarrassed that he couldn't "perform" but Tom and I resisted teasing him but, instead, said that it was bound to happen to all of us eventually.  It was then that we found out there are other ways to enjoy our bodies.  Tom offered Brad a massage.  Brad agreed and later said that it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience because Tom was simply rubbing his body and made it clear he expected no sexual response.  Massages became a sometime feature and we learned that masturbation, as great as it is, is not the only way to derive pleasure from our bodies. 

On one of our camping trips, Brad said, “Wouldn’t it be great to have some pictures of us all having fun.  They would help us remember the great times we’re having.”

I thought about it for a minute and replied, “Sure.  It would be great.  They could give me even more stimulation and pleasure during the week when we were not together.  But I’m not sure we should.  First of all, who’s going to take the pictures?  Second, they’d be mighty embarrassing if anyone else saw them.”

"I’m sure nobody but us will ever see them.  And I've got a photographer." 

"Hold on," I objected. "We don't want others knowing what we do together!  If it got around, people wouldn't understand!" 

"Not to worry," he assured me and proceeded to explain why.  “I found a book bag.  I looked inside to see whose it was.  His name was in there, all right, but there was something very interesting.  He had some porno photographs -- not the kind you clip out of a gay magazine or download from the net.  These were actual photographic prints.  They were all girl-guy pairs but different girls and always the same guy, Steve.  You probably know him from school.  His hobby is photography and he’s the son of a prominent fundamentalist minister.  Unlike his straight-laced father, Steve obviously has a liberal mind.  And some liberal girlfriends who enjoyed his company.  I returned the book bag to Steve but kept the photos.  Just like I expected, he got me aside a couple of days later and asked me if I kept anything from his book bag.  I told him I found the photographs.  He panicked for fear his father would find out but I made a shady offer.  I told him I’d give his pictures back if he would take some pictures of one of our parties here at the lake.  All he had to do was take the pictures, give me the negatives and three prints, and he’d get pictures back with a promise of silence."

"Still a little risky," I said.  "But suppose he makes another set and shows them around school?”

“Believe me, he won’t.  He’s scared shitless that we’d tell his father about the wicked pictures he’s taking.”

“Okay,” I said.  “I'll trust your judgment."

Steve joined us on our next camping trip.  Brad, Tom, and I picked him up at his house on Saturday morning.  Less then ten minutes into the drive, he said, “So, guys.  Where are the girls?”

“Oh!  I forgot to tell you.  It’ll just be us guys.”

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed.  “Are you saying that you’re all queer?”

“No,” Brad said.  “We’re not queers.  We’re not fags.  We’re not depraved sinners.  We just happen to enjoy a few sexual games.  You got a problem with that?”

Reacting to Brad’s assertive tone, Steve meekly replied, “No.”

Steve started shooting pictures of us setting up camp but Brad quickly advised him, "Save the film for the good stuff later."  Steve complied but still appeared to be nervous about what he was supposed to photograph.

When we finished setting up camp, I started to anticipate the activities.  Every rock, tree, and stretch of beach stimulated thoughts of what we had enjoyed together.  We then undressed for the cooling swim.  As soon as we were all naked, Brad told Steve, “You can start shooting pictures anytime.  "We'll just do our thing and ignore you.  Just get some good pictures." 

Steve nodded compliantly.

It was hard to ignore Steve.  First, having an "audience" tended to make us more inhibited than we normally were.  Second, Steve was the kind of guy who drew attention: only about 5'6" but solidly built.  His clothes were not tight but would sometimes reveal a tight ass and a promising bulge in his crotch.  Moreover, the pictures from his book bag (which Brad had shown to Tom and me) revealed that he was hung at least as well as Brad.  Being blond, his pubic hair did not adequately set off his erect cock but it still looked worthy of closer inspection.  I wondered if we could get a close look at Steve's cock.  After all, I had wanted to do the same for Brad's early in the summer and look what happened.

As we started our water games, we were all soft ... no doubt due to Steve's snapping pictures ... but soon enough, with enough groping and grabbing, we started to get hard.  Tom was the last to sprout a woodie.  For some time, in the water and on shore, we goofed off showing our asses and cocks to Steve as much as possible but not getting down to any serious masturbation.  Steve took several pictures before I noticed a tell-tale bulge in his crotch.  Was he was aroused by the sight of our hard cocks?  Could we get him to join us?  "How can I get his pants off?" I asked myself.  It was clear I could not do it alone and that Brad was controlling Steve.  I had to recruit Brad's help.

"Once Steve gets some good pictures," I said to Brad when Steve couldn’t hear, "is there any reason he can't join our fun?"  "I'm a step ahead of you," Brad replied, "I've wanted to get into his pants since I first saw his pictures.  Just be patient."  The underlying significance of that comment escaped me at the time.

Throughout the afternoon, we posed for pictures (some hard, some soft) and Steve got some snaps of us frolicking.  But we still hadn't got down to serious jerking off and my balls were beginning to feel the pressure.  When Brad suggested it was time for a threesome jerk, Tom and I didn’t object.  Even Steve, standing alongside, (fully clothed but still bulging) didn't dampen our eagerness to get it on.  We lay down on a blanket.  I'm on my side giving Brad a long slow spit jerk.  Brad, on his back, is doing the same for me.  And Tom is behind me with his cock between my legs and his hand alternately massaging and pinching my nipples.  We had done this many times and it was no longer necessary to coordinate our orgasms with comments because we could read each others bodies.

Brad suddenly shouted at Steve to get ready to shoot some great pictures.  As we all reached climax together, we all shot cum that had been accumulating it seemed forever.  Brad's body, pelvis, and legs were drenched in creamy juice.  Steve got the pictures of a lifetime.  Then, as we writhed together in the slippery sauce, Steve got some more.

It was painfully obvious that Steve was as hard as a rock and trying (unsuccessfully) to hide it from us.  Brad called to him.  "OK Steve, your job is over and well done.  Put away the camera.  It's play time for all of us now.  Join us for a swim."  Steve stared at Brad for a moment, not sure what to do.  "Come on," urged Brad, "you've done your work.  Now it's time to relax." 

Steve still didn't move but stammered "Ah . . . no thanks."  Brad looked at me, winked, and said, "Think we can persuade him?"  We rushed him, removed his shoes, shirt, and pants, leaving him in his boxer shorts that still revealed his hard cock underneath.  "Come on, Steve; let's take a dip in the lake."  He was either willing, too surprised to resist, or just being obedient as we led him to the water.

In the water, we left him pretty much alone except that we made sure to give him plenty of good views of our asses and cocks and demonstrate that we enjoyed grabbing and groping.  Eventually, the four of us sat in the water by the shore -- our butts on the muddy bottom, our cocks bobbing in the rippling water -- and swapped stories about how much fun we had masturbating. 

Steve was quiet until he asked, "You guys do this all the time?" 

"Sure, nearly every weekend," Brad assured him, "During the week, we have to jerk ourselves off a lot.  Every guy does that ... whether they admit it or not.  It's just that we maybe do it more and enjoy it more.  Maybe other guys don’t do it together like we do but I’ll bet most of them would enjoy it if they had the chance." 

Steve was silent again while we resumed our chatter.  Suddenly Steve asked another question, "You guys like girls, too?"  

That was something that had never really come up in our many conversations.  We talked about girls enough and how it might feel to have our cocks inside a warm, moist pussy.  We wondered how girls felt in an orgasm and speculated about how to give girls the peak of pleasure.  But we had never discussed our preferences.  Brad replied first, "I've done some heavy petting.  Even fingered a couple of wet pussies.  I've been up at bat several times but never got a home run.  But I expect to sometime.  That doesn't mean I can't enjoy a good orgasm while I'm with guys.  It would seem a little monotonous to have a steady diet of just one form of satisfaction."

Brad’s comment that he expected to fuck a girl sometime worried me.  I rationalized it away by thinking he just wanted Steve to think he wasn’t totally gay.

Tom said that he hadn't even gotten into a girl's panties yet but only because none in his crowd were available or willing.  And he admitted to fantasizing a lot about being with girls like Steve had in his pictures. 

I was quiet.  Brad and Tom looked at me expectantly.  I finally said, “I don’t know.  I might be gay," I said quietly, with my head down and eyes closed, "Right now, I'm turned on more by men than women.  But I just don't know yet."  That was not entirely true.  I knew I was gay but (like Brad, I thought) I didn’t want Steve to know my secret.

"Still," added Brad in a hurry, "Straight, bi, or gay, there's room in everyone's life for some good self-satisfaction.  How do you do it, Steve?"

Steve was quiet for a while but finally admitted that his sex drive was immense and he relieved himself nearly every day but thought he was weird for doing it.  "Hell no," said Brad, "We do it nearly every day and enjoy it every time.  And I'll bet every other guy our age does it several times a week.  Some guys, though, may not enjoy it as much as they could because they think it's wrong somehow." 

I added my thoughts, "From what I've read and heard, every male does it whether they're young, old, married, single, whatever.  The three of us accept that.  We enjoy jerking off together.  And we enjoy it alone.  If you only do it alone, you're missing out."

The four of us sat quietly for a while.  I was thinking that Brad and I had started Steve thinking in the right direction and that, with luck, we'd get a good look at his cock and even see him squirt a load.  Tom suggested dinner.  We all rinsed off, stood up, and walked to the campsite.  None of us had kept our hard-on very long but all of us knew the evening was young.

After dinner, it was Tom who took charge.  His shy manner made him particularly sensitive to Steve's feelings.

"Look, Steve," Tom began.  "It's been a new experience for you to see guys together enjoying themselves.  But that's just another side of our existence as guys.  You've said that you have a healthy sex drive.  That's a good thing.  Lots of people don't have the appetite and they miss out on a lot of very satisfying sexual experience.  You've said that you like girls.  That's good.  Keep that feeling.  Girls can give you great pleasure.  But don't lock out other pleasures."  Tom paused while Steve digested the advice.

"You came on this trip under pressure," Tom continued.  "We're glad to have you along.  But your obligations are over.  You can now do what you want.  I think if you open yourself up to a new experience, it will not detract from your other satisfactions.  You can still jerk off as much as you like alone.  You can still be with girls and satisfy yourself and them.  Your sex drive is a blessing.  And, you've got great equipment down in your crotch.  That's a blessing too.  Take advantage of what you've got, Steve.  Enjoy yourself.  Enjoy the girls.  And enjoy being with guys."  Tom paused again for Steve to absorb the message.  Brad and I sat quietly in awe of Tom's comforting, persuasive manner.

"Look," Tom began again.  "Here's a deal.  Let me show you a new sensation that I guarantee will be one of the best orgasms you've had so far.  You can tell me to stop at any time and I'll back off without question.  But if you want to open yourself up to another world of pleasure . . . without losing what you already enjoy by yourself and with girls, then let me help you."

Steve said nothing.  Brad and I both wanted Steve to agree.  We wanted a close look at his endowment.  We wanted to watch him as he sprayed his juices.  But we knew that Tom was winning his confidence and we could add nothing to the effort.

Finally, Steve finally agreed. 

"Okay," Tom continued in his easy, comforting tone.  "I'm going to undress you.  Just lay back and enjoy.  Can the other guys watch?" 

"Okay," said Steve.

Tom removed Steve's shirt, quietly complimenting him on the tone of his muscles and the tan of his skin.  The shoes and socks came off but not without a gentle messaging of the soles of the feet.  The belt came off.  We could see a slight bulge in Steve's crotch.  The pants came down and then, ever so slowly, the boxer briefs revealing Steve's beefy cock.  I thought I heard a slight gasp from Brad.  I stifled mine.  Steve's cock was better than his pictures showed.  He was one well-hung dude.  And the thought of the pussies his cock had explored was tantalizing.

Tom continued to quietly mutter to Steve.  How good it would feel, how to relax and enjoy, and how good his equipment was.  Steve was, by this time, fully in Tom's hands and getting more and more aroused.  His long cock hardened quickly as he lay on his back.  Brad and I moved silently in for a closer look at Steve's marvelous tool.  Our own cocks grew hard and we both began gently stroking them.

Tom did the massage bit, starting at the shoulders and working down.  Steve would sigh as his long cock quivered from time to time.  Tom reached the pubes and gently fingered the long curly blond hairs.  Steve responded with obvious pleasure.  Tom moved to the thighs and used some sensuous moves with his hands up toward Steve's crotch.  Steve began to moan. 

Then Tom started the spit rub on the head of Steve's cock which, it seemed, was swelling even larger with every new movement of Tom's capable hand.

"Now!" pleaded Steve. "Do it now!"

"Not just yet, Steve," Tom quietly assured his eager partner.  "Just enjoy the feelings."  And he continued to spit, rub, and tantalize.

"Now!" screamed Steve, "Now!"  But Tom replied softly, "Not just yet.  You're experiencing something new and wonderful.  Enjoy it.  Enjoy all of it.  Let it last a little while longer."

Brad and I were still slowly stroking each other and waiting for Steve to ejaculate before we let ourselves go.  Tom continued; his spit was no longer needed because Steve's precum was oozing out profusely.  (For that matter, so was mine.)  Steve groaned loudly, his bloated cock quivered and began to convulse as he arched his back up.  The cum, that had been building for who knows how long came out in a torrent shooting up over Steve's shoulder, down his chest, and pooling on his stomach.  Steve collapsed.  His whole body trembled for a moment and then lay still while he moaned, "Oh God; that was wonderful."  As Steve lay there, more cum was slowly oozing out of his cock and dripping down.  After that massive stream of gorgeous cum that exploded from his bloated cock, there was still some in reserve that now ever so slowly oozed its way out his piss hole.  Watching, Brad and I were captivated by the sight and forgot our own jerking in awe of Steve's obvious ecstasy.  That awesome cock.  The torrent of cum.  

Tom looked up at us as we hovered close to Steve's dick, taking in every detail of sight and smell. He asked, "Who's next?"  Both Brad and I volunteered so Tom moved closer, used both hands to grab our cocks and then just squeezed and released, squeezed and released, with only a slight stroke.  With all our foreplay, that's all it took and Brad and I both shot a wad of cum over each other while Steve watched and smiled.

All four of us rinsed off in the lake and sat around the fire watching it quietly die out, before finally stretching out for a night's sleep -- without a tent but under the starry night sky.  Steve broke the silence.  "You were right, Tom, it was one of the greatest sexual sensations I've ever had.  How can I ever thank you?"  Before Tom could answer, I suggested, "You could jerk him off.  He's the only one of us that didn't get relief from the last round of play."

So Steve began working on Tom, hesitantly at first but then more confidently copying many of the same moves Tom had used.  Not nearly as expertly but Tom's cock showed that he was responding.  Brad and I just watched this time; neither of us had the energy to do more than enjoy the show. 

Steve surprised us all when he said to Tom, “I usually eat my own cum.  Would you mind if I ate yours?”

“Help yourself,” Tom grinned.

I think we all expected Steve to finish masturbating Tom and then eat the cum that spattered on his stomach and chest.  But when Tom was just about to cum, Steve bent over and took the tip of Tom's cock into his mouth so that he received the full load of cum.  Some dribbled down his cheek and chin onto Tom's still throbbing cock.  After swallowing, Steve said to Tom, "That was a bit of a homo thing to do.  But I thought you'd like it. “Tom just smiled but that said it all.  As we all lay back down again, Steve said, "Thanks, guys, for the lessons.  And for making me a better man."  

Steve didn't join our group again but occasionally gave us some of the best of his photography work (that now included guys, guys with guys, and lots of girls alone or with guys).  Once, he even invited me to pose with one of his girls.  That's another story.

Summer drew to a close.  I cherished the memories of our camping trips, especially when it was just Brad and I.  We had lots of sex when we were together but we also had long periods of simply cuddling in the nude, which was, in its own way, just as satisfying.  My affection for Brad had become an obsession and the only part of my life when I was genuinely happy.  He rescued me from a boring, lonely existence.  He showed me the utter joy of sexual union.  Most importantly, he offered companionship.  I was ready to devote my life to being with him.  I told him once that I loved him but he shrugged it off, saying, “I like you a lot, too, Brian.  I like being with you.  But we’re still teenagers.  What do we know about real love?”

I started to explain how I felt about him and why I knew it was love but he interrupted me and said, “Let’s just be happy we’re together.  Okay?”

School started.  The weather was turning colder, eliminating the camping weekends.  I would phone Brad or catch him at school to talk.  I tried to arrange some way to meet with him, not necessarily for sex but just to be with him.  He always told me he couldn’t.  He was busy.  He had other plans.  He said he was sorry and that he wanted to see me because I was special to him.  For a while, I believed he was as disappointed as I was that we couldn’t spend time with each other.

Then, in late November, my hopes were demolished.

I called Brad on the phone to tell him how much I missed him and pleaded with him to arrange some way of spending time with him.  His response was devastating.

“I miss you, too, Brian.  And I’d like to get together.  For old times’ sake.  But that’s the point.  We had a great summer.  But that’s behind us.  It’s time to move on.  Let’s just be happy that we had some good times together.  And face the fact that we can’t continue.  I’m glad that we had some terrific times together at the lake.  The past was wonderful but we’ve got to start looking forward to the future.”

“But you said...”

He cut me off.  “I said a lot of things.  I meant them at the time.  But times change.  We change.”

“But, Brad, I thought...”

He cut me off again.  “To put it bluntly, Brian, we can still be friends but the sexcapades are over.  We have to think of the present.  My parents are as homophobic as yours.  That means that if we have any more sex we will have to continue lying to them.  And God forbid if they ever catch us.  We also have to think of the future.  For instance. I will be 18 soon.  That will make me legally an adult.  You’ll be 16, legally a minor.  Do you have any idea what they do to adults having sex with a minor?  It isn’t pretty!”

“They’ll never know!” I protested.

“Gotta go now.” He said curtly and hung up.

I sat at my desk in my bedroom in total shock.  When the enormity of his brush off set in, I collapsed on my bed and sobbed.  The boy I loved had cast me aside like a toy he had grown out of.

I came to a conclusion.  Brad had used me.  His comments about my being special to him were nothing more than a deception.  He had manipulated me for his sexual pleasure.  Profound sorrow over losing what had been so precious to me was replaced with hatred.  I hated Brad for being so deceitful and selfish.  I hated myself for being so gullible.  I fell into a severe depression.  I couldn’t concentrate at school.  At home I escaped my parents’ constant fussing over my sour mood and isolation by retreating to my bedroom where I cried a lot.  It was difficult to sleep and I was miserable when I was awake.

I went to the top shelf of my closet to retrieve Steve’s photographs of our camping trip.  By destroying them, perhaps, I could finally free myself from my past, foolish infatuation.  I opened the manila envelope for one final look at what had been a joyful time.  I spread them out on my desk.  They didn’t make me horny.  They only deepened my sorrow.

The phone rang.  Thinking no one was home, I walked over to my beside table and picked up the extension phone.  It was for Dad and I wrote down the message.  Before I could return to my desk, my Dad walked into my bedroom.  I was shocked to see that he was in the house.  “Who was on the phone?” he asked.

“Glen Tipton,” I stammered, handing him the notepaper with the message.  I made the mistake of glancing quickly and guiltily at the photographs lying on my desk.  My heart was pounding and I’m sure my face was flushed.

“School project?” he asked as he walked over to my desk.  “Mind if I take a look?”

There was no way I could salvage the situation.  He was between me and the desk.  All I could do was to wait for the inevitable punishment.

“What in the name of...!” he yelled as he saw the prints.  “THIS IS YOU!” he screamed at me.

For the next several minutes, he assaulted me with a tirade.  He called me a liar and a cheat, a sinner, a disappointment for betraying my upbringing, a depraved pervert, a fag, and more.  While he was angrily berating me, I lay on my bed and sobbed.

The next week was pure hell.  I was consumed by self-pity and self-hatred.  I didn’t even go to school.  Mom often cried when she saw me.  It hurt me to know that she was hurt by my behavior.  Dad periodically insisted that I get professional help to “cure” me.  I refused to see a shrink.  Once I tried to tell him that homosexuality is not a disease but that only started an argument that devolved into his calling me stupid and a perverted sinner.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I wrote Chapter One as a warning to others, especially young teens.  Don’t let your hormones drown your reason.  By all means, seek and find a meaningful relationship.  But don’t let yourself be a captive of temporary sexual gratification.  Don’t let it distort your thinking.  Don’t confuse sex with true respect, commitment, and love.  Remain alert to the warning signs that I failed to recognize over the summer with Brad -- a dominant need (in yourself and in others) for sex, the reluctance of your friend to speak of love and your future together, the absence of jealousy when a monogamous relationship is threatened, and the avoidance of private time together with no sex but there’s joy in simply being together.

Am I saying you must be totally celibate?  No.  Experiment if you like -- judiciously and discretely -- but never, NEVER, confuse sex with love.  Sex can be fun (and dangerous if you don’t protect yourself from STDs) but it is the emotional bonding we call love that should be your ultimate goal.  Especially if you’re a young teen, expect to wait until you find a partner who is willing to commit his life to you in a meaningful relationship where sex is an expression of love and not merely the gratification of primal urges.  How do I know this?  The answer is in Chapter Two.

  Chapter 2

Tom stopped by the house one evening and my Mom let him in.  She must have told him I was in my room because the first I knew of his arrival was when he knocked on my bedroom door and, without waiting for a response, opened the door and walked in.  I was lying on my bed, starring vacantly at the ceiling when Tom said, “What’s wrong?  I haven’t seen you at school.  Are you sick or something?”

 “I’m okay,” I replied without looking at him but showing my irritation at his interrupting my misery.

“Come on, Brian.  Don’t shit me.  I can tell something’s wrong.  What is it?”

“Nothing!” I exclaimed.  “Do me a favor and go away!”

“No such luck, dumbass,” he shot back.  “I’m staying until you tell me what’s going on.  How come you’re not in school and how come you’re treating me like we’re no longer friends?”

I knew the answer to his first question and a tsunami of memories engulfed me before the second question registered in my mind.  There were memories of the good times we had camping, and Tom’s reluctance to join in the fun but eventual willingness to enjoy pleasures of the flesh.  It was the painful memories that dominated, however: Brad’s selfishly using me and the fact that it was over -- the sex and what I thought was a mutual affection between Brad and me.  My parents’ anger fueled the flames racing through my head.  It was too much!  I lost it!  Unable to control my emotions, I started to cry.  I had been doing a lot of that lately but Tom’s seeing me cry upset me even more.

Tom sat on the edge of my bed and held my hand.  He let me cry for a little while and then softly said, “Come on, Brian.  Tell me what’s bothering you.  And don’t give me any bullshit.  I can tell it’s something serious.  I don’t know if I can help with your problem but talk to me.  Maybe that will help.”

In spite of my jumbled mind, I could sense the genuine concern in his voice.  Somehow, his holding my hand was comforting.  I fought to control my tears and was finally able to sputter, “I screwed up, Tom.  Royally.  And now my life’s a friggin' mess.”

xxx

My answer was not very specific and, after a pause, Tom said, “Tell me about it.  Talk to me.  Tell me how I can help.”

“It’s hopeless!  There’s nothing you can do.  Nothing anybody can do.  Go away and leave me alone.”

“If you think I’m going to walk away, Brian, you’re wrong.  Dead wrong.  So you better damn well tell me what’s bothering you!”

If it would get rid of him and leave me to my misery, I thought, I might as well come clean.  “First of all,” I began.  “Brad played me for a sucker.  All he wanted was sex.  With me, with you, with Steve.  He said I was special and I believed him.  I was foolish enough to think that we could be a couple.  Instead, I was just one of his toys.  What meant a lot to me was just a fling for him.  He tossed me in the trash after school started.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Brian.  He told me the same thing.  He said I was his first choice, his favorite.  But he won’t even talk to me now.”

“That bastard!” I exclaimed.

“Wait a minute, Brian.  He’s a bastard, for damn sure.  I was upset when he brushed me off.  I was angry.  But I decided that he wasn’t going to ruin my life.  I hated him for what he did to me and now, I hate him more because he did it to both of us.  Lord knows how many others he’s done it to or will do it to.  But don’t let the sonofabitch ruin your life.”

“Easy to say,” I replied.  “Not so easy to do.  Besides, that’s not the half of it.  My dad saw the pictures Steve took before I had a chance to destroy them.  All hell broke loose.  He’s been on my case for a week now.  Mom won’t even talk to me.  First I lost Brad.  Then I lost my parents.  Like I said, I screwed up royally and my life’s a total wreck.”

Tom looked at me for a few moments, bent down, and kissed me gently on the forehead.  “Not a total wreck,” he whispered to me.  “You still have me as a friend.  I don’t claim to know the pain you’re feeling, but let me help you through it.”

“Nice try, Tom.  But unless you can turn the clock back, you can’t help.  I screwed up and have to pay the consequences.  So go away and leave me alone.”

“Okay,” he said.  “You had some sex.  Your parents found out.  It’s not the end of the world.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” I shot back angrily.  “It’s not the sex we had.  I don’t regret that.  It’s that the people I care about have deserted me.  Brad.  My parents.  I don’t think I can take it any more.”

“Not everyone has deserted you,” he said quietly.  “Brad did.  But I’m here.  I haven’t deserted you.  And I don’t think your parents have.  They’re surprised and upset but you’re still their son.  Give them some time.  And most important of all, don’t desert me by telling me to go away.  I won’t ... I CAN’T do that.  You’re my friend, Brian.  Let me be yours.”

Tom and I talked for almost two hours during which his compassion and concern for me was obvious.  We shared our feelings about being gay.  He told me that I was the only person on the planet that knew he was gay; his dating with girls was just camouflage.  We talked a lot about the persecution of gays, much of which came from religions that simultaneously claimed we should “judge not” and we should “love our neighbor.”  And we talked about how we could avoid or endure that harassment.

Toward the end of the conversation, Tom asked, “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” I said.  “You just don’t know how much.  You may have saved my life.”

Tom got a shocked expression and said, “You don’t mean...”

“I don’t know,” I interrupted.  “I’ve thought about it.”

“DON’T!” he shouted.  “Don’t try to correct one mistake with a much bigger one!  Think of your future.  Think of your parents.  Think of me, for Christ’s sake.  Most of all, think of yourself.  You’re hurting right now.  I know that.  But I also know the hurt will go away.  Don’t give up on yourself.  Don’t give up on me.”

It was his turn to cry.  He was clearly upset.  “Calm down, Tom!  I said I’ve thought about it.  I didn’t say I would do anything stupid.”

“Make me a promise,” he said seriously as he held my hand more tightly.  “If you ever think about it again, talk to me.  After what Brad said to you and did to you, you may not believe what I’m about to say.  But I’ll say it anyway and hope you believe me.  I like you.  I liked you even before our camping trips.  On the camping trips, I got to know you better.  And like you more.  That’s why I want to help you if I can.  That’s why I want you to promise to talk to me before you do something stupid.”

“I promise,” I said sincerely.

“Not good enough,” he shot back.  “Promise on everything that’s sacred and holy.  And mean it when you say it.”

“I give you my word, Tom.  I don’t know what’s sacred or holy to me anymore but what matters to me most right now is your friendship.  Can I promise on that?”

“If you mean what you say, then yes.  And thanks.  Thanks for accepting me as a friend.”

Over the next two weeks, Tom and I talked every day.  If he didn’t stop by the house, he would call me on the phone.  Every conversation convinced me more that he was doing it out of genuine concern for me.  As a result, my mood improved considerably.  I went back to school (with a forged note from my Mom claiming I had been ill).  I sometimes saw Brad at school, which triggered some anger but I took delight in totally ignoring his greeting.  Even my home life improved.  The angry confrontations gave way to grudging although icy co-existence, which was tolerable.

Then, one Friday evening, Tom came to the house.  My parents had gone to a party and I was home alone.  I welcomed him and we sat in the living room talking.  And laughing.  I didn’t laugh much lately except with Tom.  I often thought of how much better it was to laugh with Tom than to cry and how much my life had changed with Tom’s help.

Eventually, we reminisced about our summer camping trips.  We laughed at some of the outlandish things we did together.  Strangely, my hatred of Brad and my resentment of his deception seemed to have diminished.

Talking of our sexual activities at the lake raised a question in my mind.  “I enjoy spending time with you, Tom, but I’m curious.  Never once in the last couple of weeks have you mentioned having sex again.  With me, I mean.  Not even tonight when we have the house to ourselves.  Why is that?”

Tom looked at me intently, thought a moment, and said, “I have to be honest with you.  I’ve wanted it.  In the worst way.  So why haven’t I mentioned it?  Two reasons.  First, I think what you needed most was a friend.  To listen.  To talk to.  To just be there for you.  I wanted to be that friend more than I wanted to have sex with you.  Second, I didn’t want you to think I was doing a Brad on you.  I wanted to prove to you that I’m your friend and not a horny guy looking for an easy lay.”

I was moved to tears.  Unlike the gallons of tears I shed when I was feeling sorry for myself, these were tears of joy.

“What’s the matter?” Tom asked worriedly.

“Not a thing!” I exclaimed.  “I’m just overcome with happiness.  I can’t believe I’ve gone from the depths of misery to heights of joy.  Thanks to you.”

“If you’re happy, Brian, I’m ecstatic.  If I had anything to do with it, I want nothing more than to keep doing it.”

Impulsively, I moved over and kissed him.  Right on the lips.  Not long, not passionately, but tenderly.  And suddenly I felt embarrassed and didn’t know why.  After all, I had jerked him off and given him blow jobs.  He had done the same to me.  Why would a simple kiss be embarrassing?  “I’m sorry,” I said.  “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m not at all sorry, Brian.  It was wonderful.  Because it was filled with affection.  That means a lot to me.  You mean a lot to me.”

I laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Tom asked with obvious puzzlement.

“That’s what Brad kept saying to me.  But your saying it is different.  I don’t know how to explain it.  Brad said it after we had sex.  He said it to be sure he’d get more sex later.  You said it after helping me through my problems.  When you said it, it was consistent with your concern for me over the last couple of weeks.  It’s clear to me that you’re being honest and he wasn’t.  Somehow, I find the contrast funny.  Is that weird?”

“Yes,” he replied.  “It’s very weird.  But true.  I really do care about you, Brian.”

“And I care about you, Tom.  You stood by me.  You helped me without any strings attached.  I can’t begin to tell you how much that has meant to me.  It’s no stretch to say that you saved my life.  I was miserable beyond imagining.  But now -- being with you -- I’m happy to be alive.  Thanks for being stubborn and refusing to go away.  Thanks for all the visits and encouragement.  Thanks for helping me cope.  How come you did all that for me, Tom?  What was in it for you?”

He grinned and said, “YOU, dumb ass!  That’s what was in it for me.  Or haven’t you noticed.  I’m here because I want to be with you.  To be with you for a long time.  That is, if you’ll have me as a boyfriend.  Will you?”

“Here’s my answer,” I said.  I gave him a kiss, a long, passionate kiss that he eagerly returned.

After breaking the kiss, we smiled broadly at each other and I said, “My parents won’t be home until after midnight.  Can we ... you know ... do more than kiss?”

Tom hesitated, which made me worry.  Finally, he said, “I’d like that.  More than anything.  But please understand.  I didn’t come to see you for that.  I came simply because I wanted to be with you.  You mustn’t think that I’m doing a Brad on you.  If we could be together -- even without sex -- I’d be happy.”

“Would you be happier with sex?” I asked.

“Of course!  But we could wait.  Until you’re sure that it means more than sex.”

“I’m sure now,” I replied.  I rose and tried to pull him up off the sofa but he resisted.

“Brian,” he began.  “Are you talking with your head or is it your cock talking?”

“Neither!  It’s my heart talking!  For somebody who was so good at sensing my feelings when I was down, you’re a dimwit when you can’t tell how I feel about you.”

“Wrong, dumbass!  I know how you feel.  I feel the same way.  But can you be sure it’s different than how you felt about Brad?”

“No comparison,” I said emphatically.  “I’ve learned a lot.  I’m not a gullible newbie anymore.  My feelings for Brad last summer were hope.  My feelings for you now are totally different.  You’ve earned my trust in a thousand ways.  You’ve earned my ... dare I say it? ... my love.  It’s not sex I want.  I want you.  I want to show you my love.”

Tom grinned and let me lead him to my bedroom.  We entered the bedroom as true friends.  We spent more than an hour becoming true lovers.  We spent the next several years as partners -- clandestinely at first but openly later.

My gratitude to Tom for rescuing me from potentially destructive depression has never wavered.  My total joy in giving and receiving love continues to grow.  My summer of joy was trivial compared to what I have now: a lifetime of joy.

The End.

Posted: 10/16/09