Date: Sat, 22 Nov 2008 19:28:40 +0100 From: jerryfell@hushmail.com Subject: boy-at-the-wedding-12 Alexander sat at the prow of the boat, his legs and bare feet dangling over the side. The water slid by as the boat made its slow progress up river. Below the sparkling surface deep green fronds bent and slipped away, and sunlight glinted off a shoal of river fish. Richard, "Geek", was suddenly at his elbow. "Mr. Steel." "Hello Richard." "Can I have a turn driving? They've been on it forever." "Of course you can." "They won't let me though." "Tell Seb I want you to take a turn." "Okay. Thanks!" Geek flashed a smile and his hazel eyes sparkled. Alexander lay back on the deck. The blue September sky stretched away forever. It was so clear he imagined he could almost see the deep blue edge of space. The last days of summer were still heavy with heat, but the river banks seemed faded in mottled browns and dusty greens as if pregnant with autumn. The boat's engine chugged quietly, pushing them deeper up river into the French countryside. The boy's voices played around him like the dappled sunlight. They were arguing and laughing. He couldn't make out the words. It was the birdsong of childhood. Niels' face appeared over him, smiling and blocking the sunlight. "Boo!" "Boo to you too." "What are you doing?" "Just lying here." "You must trust us." "Steering a boat isn't rocket science. You are handling it okay aren't you?" "Yeah, its easy. But Geek panics and steers it into the bank. Then he steers it wrong even worse." "He'll learn." Niels flopped down beside him. "Are you really rich?" "What has Seb been telling you?" "Not much. Just said you are rich." "Well, I own a company. I have enough money not to worry about it, so I guess I am rich in that way." Alexander raised himself onto his elbows. By the river-side a diesel irrigation pump chugged and spluttered. Fields and woods ran away to the distant horizon in a French haze. He looked at Niels. The boy's shirt was open and hung either side of his slender waist and smooth chest. He had rolled his shirt sleeves up and his bare pale arms looked soft against the dark wood of the deck. "Are those your school shorts?" "Yeah. Crap aren't they." The dark blue shorts looked heavy, the rough material appearing starched. They offset the boy's pale thighs. "I am glad you and Seb have become friends." "Thanks." Niels' smiled. His long hair, covering one eye completely, gave him a femininity and a softness that belied the boyishness he exuded. He had big feet which he pivoted from side to side. "You would make a great pirate, Niels." "Why do you shay that?" he laughed in his faint accent. "You just would. You look like a handsome pirate.... With big feet." "Oi, cheeky! My feet are not big!" "Yes they are." "Yours are big. Mine aren't." "Oh yes they are. Yours are probably as big as mine and you're only thirteen." "No way they are as big as yours...." And then they had to be compared. The boy's hard heel against his, then soft toes against his as he ribbed the boy and made him laugh. "And you know what they say..." "What?" But he thought better of it. "What?" "Never mind." "No go on. What were you going to say?" He smiled at Niels and looked right into the boy's open face as he said: "Big feet, big penis." He caught the most fleeting expression wash across the boy's face, as Niels suddenly thought about his cock in the raw. Almost as soon as it registered on the boy's face it was buried in a blush and a laugh. "It's nice to have met you Niels. I am so glad you could come on this short trip." He lay propped up on one arm next to the boy on the deck, talking to him of school and Europe, of football teams and Formula One, gently exploring the boy's lively mind as his eyes roamed ceaselessly across his stretched torso, his tiny nipples and soft throat. Alexander tried to convince himself that his admiration was in the same category as he might admire a work of art at the Tate Gallery. But as they spoke he brushed a fleck of dirt from the boy's chest. Then without thinking, his big hand was on the boy's warm arm, his fingers stroking over the fine silk hairs, noticing a sudden shower of goosebumps that rose beneath his touch. As the conversation turned to school sport and the House football team that Niels and Seb played in, he said: "I wasn't sure if you played football. But I guess you've got good knees for a footballer." And, just to prove the point, his hand cupped a warm brown knee before sliding down over the boy's shin, to rest there. His thumb tracing circles on the boy's calf as he studied his face. His hand resting on the boy, his self-deception about admiring him as one might admire an artwork became increasingly thin with every small rotation of his thumb. The conversation moved on to inter-dorm rivalry and he took his hand away, and lay back with his hands clasped behind his head as Niels explained the finer points. He told himself he had to let go. He could not return to those warm legs. Niels was animated now, telling the story of a particular soccer match, shouting to Seb in the cabin to confirm a detail before getting back to the story. Alexander sat up once more and his hand slipped back to the boy's inviting calf. As Niels waved his hands about to make his points, Alex's hand slipped up and around the back of the boy's neck, his knuckles against the flowing hair. The softness of the neck. The smiling animation of the boy's story. The sunlight on the deck. The speed of the boat. Suddenly there were a million excuses to hang onto the boy. He had to let go. Before he let go again, he had cupped the boy's soft cheek in his hand and had stroked the boy's cheekbone with his thumb. The boy's eyes flashed. Despite the animated story on his lips, his touches were stirring a very, very, mild panic as the boy registered the sexuality laced through them. And with that flash, Niels unlocked the last feeble padlock on Alex's heart. He put his hand back on Niels' brown knee, then wrapped it round the boy's soft pale inner thigh and stroked upwards. "So what happened next?" Alex asked, as Niels lost his way in the story. "Well, none of the Masters wanted to referee us after that..." His thumb and forefinger were at the top of the boy's thigh. "They said in future we was going to have to go on runs instead." "I would think so, if refereeing one of your games puts the referee in hospital!" His thumb was worming its way inside the boy's boxer shorts. "Well, he didn't have to stay in hospital, he just got stitches." His thumb rolled two small testicles inside a silken pouch. "Well, having stitches is serious enough, wouldn't you say?" "Yeah it was an accident though." The heel of his hand was pressed against the boy's thigh. His finger and thumb slid up and around the soft skin stretched tight around a hard, pulsing pole. "How many stitches did he have to have?" "I dunno." Niels was resting on his elbows, staring down at his shorts, transfixed, his legs apart. Alexander looked at the boat's cabin. Sunlight reflecting off the glass made the boys inside impossible to see. "Do you want me to stop?" He pulled down on the skin to strip it back from the flared head. His thumb found pre-cum at the slit. He used it to make slippery wet circles with his thumb. "Yeah you should." "Are you sure?" He squeezed and tugged along the shaft in short quick strokes to masturbate the boy. "Yeah." said Niels in a croak that revealed that his voice was breaking. His hand stopped. But kept it's grip. He told himself he should let go. Now. "You know I am just being friendly." "Yeah I know." "Is that okay?" "Yeah... but you should still stop." Yes he should. He knew he should. But instead he found himself winding ever tighter. "Why?" "You just should." "You are hard though." The silence hung between them as, despite himself, because of himself, he started again, his tantalizing fondling causing the boy to arch his back and curl his toes. "Please stop." He froze. He was screaming at himself inside. "I'm sorry. Of course I'll stop." His hand slipped away. Niels was splayed out on the deck. Legs wide apart, trying to stop himself. But to no avail. Niels went rigid for a moment, in the small intense shaking of his orgasm and a dark patch suddenly flowered on the dark blue shorts. The spreading stain filled Alex with terror, with love, with an overwhelming desire to carry the boy away. Instead he took one of the boy's feet in his hands and stroked it softly,poking and rubbing between the splayed toes. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd cum so quickly." What a dumb thing to say. What an idiot. "Fuck." "You are such a beautiful boy." He could see the boy was agitated by the stain on his shorts. He was worried the others would see, would know. "Only one thing for it." "What?" "Water fight!" And with that he scrambled to his feet, dipped a bucket over the side and emptied it over the prostrate boy who squealed and swore vengeance. Within seconds the fight had spread and within minutes three boys and one sunburnt man were soaked from head to toe and he was having to try to rein in the fight as the boys ran amok and he steered the boat to a halt. ----- The boat's galley was tiny. Two small cooking rings were doing their best to boil potatoes and heat beans as he fired up the grill to cook the fish-fingers. Dusk was giving way to the night outside the brightly lit cabin. The boy's sat in a jumble around the small dining table watching him cook, telling each other stories about school food. "Well that's nothing. Jenkins had a rat's foot in his mince." "Bollocks." "He did, didn't he Seb?" "Yeah, the biology master tested it." "Oh that's bollocks." "Seb can you pour me a glass of wine and get the others some Coke?" Seb, in bare feet slid into the tiny galley and fished bottles out of the fridge. "Can I open it?" "He asked me." Protested Seb. "Seb can do this one. Who knows, I might start on a second bottle later and you can open that one Geek." "Ha! He called you GEEK!" "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I meant Richard." "See everyone calls you Geek, Geek." "Are you an alcoholic?" Asked Niels, seriously. Alexander laughed. "No. But I am on holiday." "Good because my dad was an alcoholic." Alexander turned over the fish fingers with a fork and pushed them back under the grill. "I'm sorry to hear that. That can be very hard for a family to bear." "Yup." The levity had gone. Niels continued. "Probably why they crashed anyway." "You can't know that, Niels, it's more likely just to have been a tragic accident. You shouldn't blame your father for it." "I don't." "Good." "I blame myself for it anyway." "Now Niels, how can you say something like that?" The other two boys looked lost. Seb was struggling with the corkscrew. Alex turned down the heat on the potatoes. "Just do." "Why though?" Niels was blinking back tears. "They were coming to pick me up. If I hadn't asked them.... I could have taken the bus or got my friends mum to take me back she said she would of." "Richard, would you stir the beans please." Alexander was trapped. He knew the boy needed comforting and he cursed himself. Had it not been for his stupid weakness that afternoon he could have played father and mother to the lad. But how would the boy feel to be embraced by him now? The sexual act had curdled simple kindness and affection. But seeing the boy fill up with tears he had to act. Alexander pulled Niels to him to hug him. "That's nonsense Niels. You know that don't you? These things just happen and no one's to blame." Through the tears Niels choked: "Why did he have to be an alcoholic?" The boy was holding tight to him. Alexander felt giddy. "I don't know. Sometimes people find comfort there. They shouldn't but they do." "I hate this." "I know you do." He wiped away the boys tears with his thumbs and looked into his face as closely as he had done that afternoon. This time all he saw was grief. Geek was stirring the beans like his life depended on it. Seb was tugging on the corkscrew. "I can't get this fucking thing..." He was sitting on the edge of the seat with the bottle between his bare feet to get purchase. Pop! Boy flew off the seat. Wine spilled across the galley floor and Geek, Alex and a bleary Niels broke out in laughter. Alex had forgotten what food does to a teenage boy. After the meal, re-fueled with carbohydrate and sugar the three boys were murder. In the end he had to get them off the boat and they raced each other down the tow-path and dared each other to enter the dark woods until fear and physical activity had worn them out enough for them to think that bed was in order. "Alex! There is something in those woods!" "Trees?" "No, I mean, like an animal or something!" "Scary." "I'm serious. There is isn't there Seb?" "Yeah. We heard it." "See!" "Well we better take the plank up then, so it can't get on the boat." "Good idea!" And Geek and Niels were on deck again to make the boat secure. Alexander put his hand on the back of Seb's neck. "I like your friends." "I know you do." "But I love you." "Weirdo.... What are we going to do tomorrow?" "Well, early morning fishing and then when we set off we can tow you in the inflatable." "Cool. Me and Niels are sleeping in the cabin at the front. You are going to have to share with Geek." "I know." "Do you love him too?" "Who?" "Geek?" "What do you mean?" "You know." Sebastian had his arms crossed. There was dried red wine around his toes. "No of course not." He put his hand on Seb's neck and pulled him into a hug. "It's you I love, Seb. Even if it's in a way you can't understand." He lifted the boy's face. "Can I kiss you?" "Gross!" Then the boys were back and it was toothbrushes and pajamas. Geek was at the open door of the rear cabin, still brushing his teeth. Through the foam: "Mr. Shteel, I mean Alex, it's jush one bed." "I know, a double, we will have to share. You don't snore do you?" Big brown eyes were blinking up at him. "You tuck yourself up on the side against the wall and when I come in I'll sleep on the side by the door." Seb slapped Geek on the back hard as he exited the washroom. "No wanking tonight Geek!" "Shurrup!" "Tell Mr. Steel how many times you wank per night Geek." "Don't listen to him. Goodnight young man." Once the boys were settled Alexander made his way on deck with the remnants of the wine. Moored way out in the countryside the sky was dark blue and peppered with stars. A harvest moon cast a bright light across the countryside and rippled silver on the water. Alex held on to the roof of the boat as he stepped carefully around the edge, with a bottle and glass in one hand, to take up position sitting on the prow with his legs over the side as he had done in the afternoon. He poured the wine. Around him the warm night air brought smells of the earth and fields. Below him darkness welled and swirled. A dark shape he took to be a goose slid past on the black surface of the water. The wine mixed with his blood. It flowered on his tongue like the flower on the boy's dark shorts. It raised goosebumps on his arms this time. It flowed in the rivers of hair down Neils' soft neck. It flowed beneath the boat and flowed in his veins. He could hear the boys in the cabin directly below him. They were whispering, but the water carried their voices. "Has he tried anything on with you?" It was Seb's voice. "Who?" "Alex, you dip-shit." "What do you mean?" Long pause. "Has he tried to wank you?" Long pause. "No, has he tried to wank you?" "Fuck off." Long pause. "Why did you ask me then?" "Never mind." Long pause. "Are you going to get into my bed?" "No you get into mine." Some noise. "Fucking narrow." "Don't pull the blanket off!" He refilled his glass and lay back on the deck, hands behind his head. The moon was directly over a single pine that stood in silhouette. The air was warm and carried him away as the boys below him wound their legs and feet and arms around each other in their innocence. ---- When he woke the moon had swung round a quarter of the sky. He left the bottle and the glass where they were and carefully stepped around the edge of the boat. Back in the galley he brushed his teeth over the sink and refused to allow himself to imagine what would come when he slipped into bed with young Richard. His plan was to ignore that there was a boy in bed with him. Gandhi had, apparently, tested his moral fibre by sleeping naked alongside young women - resisting his natural urges. But he was no Gandhi - so he figured that if he kept it matter of fact, ignored the reality of the situation the night would pass peacefully for them both. He turned out the lights before stripping down to his boxers. `If I keep my boxers on' he thought, `I'll be okay.' But then he stood still, bathed in the silver light from the window. He pushed the boxers down over his hips. They fell to the floor. He stepped out of them. He reached down and picked them up. His cock swelled and stiffened. It rose to a full erection. Thick, swollen, wreathed in dark dense pubic hair, veined. He covered it with the boxers, opened the cabin door, stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed and let the boxers slip from his hand to the floor. He swung his legs up and under the sheet and thin blanket and slid in. He realised he had been holding his breath. He tried to relax. Tried to breathe in soundlessly. He thought of Gandhi. He thought of work. He thought of anything except the huddles form that pressed against the cabin wall. Astonishingly, he fell straight to sleep. ---- Any comments gratefully received. FYI my readers seem to span 17 to 80! The average age seems to be around 28. jerryfell@hushmail.com I would be interested to know if any boys you know remind you of any of this trio.