Date: Fri, 26 May 2000 22:31:47 EDT
From: Tony Malone <B.Ricchone@verizon.net>
Subject: Miracle in Newburyport

This story tells about sex between men. If this offends you, or if you're
too young to be reading this kind of stuff, please hit "Back" right now.

Miracle in Newburyport

If you've ever sailed a Conestoga class sloop you will know what I'm
talking about. It's a "bare bones" racing machine about 25 feet on
the waterline, with a large, open cockpit, room under the deck
fore and aft for stowing sailbags, and little else. Not exactly a
cruising boat but one of my fraternity brothers had bought an
old, unraceable one cheap and that's what we used it for. Almost
every weekend after the skiing season was over any number of us (we
took eight to Provincetown) would pile on board with sleeping bags
and a change of clothes. We'd aim for some harbor about five or six
hours away, and figure on tying up at the local yacht club. Yacht
clubs have guest privileges for members of other clubs. Of course we
didn't belong to anything, but a bunch of college kids on a big
racing boat was hard to turn away. Also, since the Conestoga had no engine
and a ragtag crew, our dockings were often spectacular
and sometimes pretty damn funny. We could feel we were earning our
stay by providing entertainment. We would sleep on shore, usually on
someone's porch or somewhere on the yacht club grounds.

So this is how Josh and I ended up sailing one Saturday from
Gloucester to Newburyport. The rest of the standard crew had one
dumb excuse or another but it was a bright day, there was a stiff
breeze and it was too good to waste. We set out from Eastern Point
and headed out past the Bass Rocks light and then up around the cape.

Joshua Delano was my age but a year ahead of me. He was from one of
those old New York families and in fact he looked just like
the pictures of Franklin Roosevelt, who he claimed was a distant
cousin. All he needed was the cigarette holder. He was a good skier
and and a good sailor but otherwise a complete couch potato. Without
working for it at all he had inherited a great body. Do you know
what the "Adam" looks like on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel?  A
big, hunky nude, stretched out on a cloud, waiting for the finger of
God to zap him into life? That was Josh, just slightly more pumped up.  You
may have noticed that Adam has a totally insignificant cock.  What
Josh's cock looked like was a mystery to me. We lived in the same
house and I had secretly lusted after him for the last year and a
half but I had never laid eyes on it. Josh was so modest that to see
him naked you would have to be right in the shower-stall with him and
even then he would probably have hidden his dick between his legs.
Not a very sexy person you might say, and you might be right. The way
he stood and the way he moved were so slack and so
un-physical that if you saw him with all his clothes on you would
never guess there was an outstanding body underneath.

The way he spoke was beyond modest. Give him  a word with the
slightest sexual connection,  "mistress," for example, and he would
blush and go into a high-pitched stammering mumble. Imitating it
was a cheap way to get a laugh from the brothers. We had a ditty
about him and his room-mate Jonathan Pruitt, who was pathologically
shy with girls:

Up in the corner Delano and Pruitt,
One can't say it, the other won't do it.

This was his weakness; otherwise he was a very smart guy, a good friend
and, last but not least, the owner of a very attractive body.

The question for me was, did Josh shared my "proclivity?" Was he
interested in men, too? How could I find out? It was totally
impossible to imagine bring up the topic with him. So I kept my
mouth shut, but I was always dreaming of an opportunity to check him
out.

Our plan was to crash at the Newburyport Yacht Club, which is deep in
the harbor at the mouth of the Merrimack River.  The wind had been
strong in the morning but petered out in the afternoon, so we
didn't even get near the harbor until about eight.  We were
tacking slowly but steadily against a light offshore breeze, but
 after a while we noticed that even though we were moving right along
through the water, we were not getting any closer to the land.
The combination of the ebb tide with the outflow from the Merrimack
made a current that pushed us back as fast as we moved forward.

It was getting dark and we were getting nowhere.  The Conestoga had no
radio and no running lights so night sailing was out of the
question. The chart showed a beach about a quarter mile south of the
harbor entrance. We decided we would anchor there, swim ashore, walk
to town and find someplace to eat and someplace to stay. The Yacht
Club, unfortunately, was on the north side of the river. When we got
to the beach  there was just enough light for us to find our way
reasonably close to shore and toss over the anchor. We ended up
about a hundred and fifty yards out, in twenty feet of water.

There was an air-mattress on board. We figured we would use it as a
raft to get towels, our wallets and a set of dry clothes onto the
beach with us. Since it was dark now and the beach was deserted I
stowed all the clothes I was wearing and stood by the gunwale in the
nude. "Come on, Josh!" I said. Now I would get the eyeful I had been
waiting for. Josh stammered and mumbled and finally got the words
out: "I'm going in my underwear." Oh, well! I dove into the water
and held the mattress while Josh slid in. He pulled himself half
onto it and started rowing with his hands  and  kicking. It turned
out he did not know how to swim. I side-stroked alongside, keeping
an eye on him. Meanwhile I was naked in the water, and loving it.
There is no substitute for swimming naked.  It must be your cock and
balls swirling around as your legs work the water, because taking a
bath naked just doesn't do it.  I kept this to myself so as not to
give Josh a hard time. He was being pretty brave as it was.


When we got to the beach we used the towels to dry off and we put on
the clothes we had brought. Josh had one more chance to show me
his all but he mumbled something and put on dry trousers right over
his wet underpants. I rolled up the air mattress, brushed off as
much sand as I could and tucked it under my arm. Josh carried the
towels. We walked toward the lights of the town, wondering where we
would stay. One idea was to get arrested and spend the night in
jail, but when we came across a cop we chickened out and asked him
for advice. He told us there was a cheap hotel a few blocks away
that could probably put us up.

"The Merrimack Arms" was the name of this establishment. A
small-town hotel right out of the past. It looked, and smelled, ancient.
It turned out that twin
beds cost ten dollars more than a double. "Let's take the double,"
I said. "We can handle it."  I had an ulterior motive, of course.
Josh started to mumble but I think he could not bring himself to say
anything about a bed in front of the clerk, so we got the double.
The clerk told us there was an all-night diner down the street and
before even seeing our room we went out to eat. We were starving.
With the money we had saved on the room we were able to splurge; we
ordered two steak dinners and two ice-cream sundaes. We were still
too young to buy beer in Massachusetts. We walked back feeling
pretty good about ourselves. We had spent an active and successful
day on the ocean. We had handled our final predicament brilliantly.
We had earned a good night's rest.

The bed turned out to be a very narrow double. We agreed
that for decency's sake each of us would take one of the sheets
and fold it into a kind of sleeping sack. The night was warm enough
so that we did not need blankets. I stripped and wrapped myself naked
in my sheet. I lay facing away as Josh undressed but I managed to
sneak a look as he got onto the bed. He was still wearing the
underpants.

I knew that if ever I was going to get my hands on Josh it would be
that night. We were in the same bed! That alone was enough for a
hard-on. But the problem of getting through to him seemed as
impossible as ever. Finally I had an idea, and worked it into a plan.
It might not do the trick, but at least I would have tried.

I waited until Josh's breathing had been slow and regular for about
a quarter of an hour. I heard a little bit of a snore and
knew it was time. I reached over and shook his shoulders. "Josh!
Wake up! What are you doing?" Josh must have been deep in the first
phase of his sleep, because it took him a while to come to. "What
are you doing?" I repeated. "What?" said Josh. He was still totally
out of it. "Josh when I woke up just now you were on my side of the
bed." "What?" "You were on my side of the bed, you were on top of
me and you had, you took, you had my penis in your mouth."

Josh's eyes widened and he turned bright red.  I actually felt a
tiny twinge of sympathy for the poor bastard. "No," he said, "that's
impossible!" "Can't you still taste it?" I asked shamelessly. He
licked his lips. "I don't know. I don't think so. How could I do
such a thing?" "It's okay, you were asleep. It's like sleepwalking.
You're not responsible." "But how could I do it?" He was shaking
his head, and I thought he was going to burst into tears any
minute. "Josh, listen. I have to tell you something. This is hard
to say but when I first woke up with my penis in your mouth it felt
really nice. It felt wonderful. I don't think I ever felt anything so
beautiful." Josh stared at me with his mouth open, and I think I saw
his face relax just a little. "Josh, it felt so good! Let me show
you."

 Josh tried to back away but I was too fast for him. I
sat on his legs and pulled down the underpants. They were still
slightly damp. His cock was good-sized after all, about
two-and-a-half Adams. It was limp but when I cupped his balls it
stiffly swiffened into a lovely, rosy erection. I bent down and took
the head into my mouth. I heard Josh gasp. I could taste the salt
from our swim. I ran my tongue under his foreskin and licked over
and under his glans. I felt his thighs go tense as his legs
straightened under me. I slid his cock further into my mouth and
tongued the underside like a hungry whore. He whimpered. I pulled
away and attacked his balls. They hung quite low and I was able to
get both of them in my mouth at the same time. Josh cried
out: "Hey!" and started to sit up but then fell back and rubbed his
shoulders into the bed. I licked around behind the balls and tickled
his ridge with the tip of my tongue. He rocked his hips slightly. He
was getting into it! I licked my index finger and slid it back along
his crotch skin. This might be my last chance. He was shaking his
head but I felt his knees pushing slightly apart. I put more spit on
my finger and traced around the rim of his hole. He said "No!" but
his heart wasn't in it, and his legs spread even wider. Meanwhile I
had gone back to work on his shaft. I took it in as far as I could
and started a slow, steady sucking. A baby at the breast, or a
five-year-old with a bad thumb habit. I held his balls, rolled them
lasciviously around in my hand and softly squeezed them. I heard him
catch his breath and he started a low, steady moaning. I took a
second to re-moisten my finger.  Then as I speeded up the rythm of
my sucking and squeezing I pushed my finger gently but firmly up
into his ass. I felt his whole body quiver and his penis start to
jerk. "Holy shit!" The words came up out of him. "Holy shit, ... fuck,
... fuck, ... fuck!" as his sperm shot into my mouth. I felt as if I had
witnessed a miracle. I gave him one last long suck to milk him dry
and then pulled slowly away and wiped my mouth on the sheet. I
looked up at his face. He was grinning from ear to ear and when he
saw me watching him he propped himself up on his elbows and said:
"You lying motherfucker, get your cock over here! I'm
going to finish what I started."