Date: Fri, 24 Oct 2003 18:40:32 -0400
From: Sleep Memory <sleepmemory@hotmail.com>
Subject: 24 Boys, Part 3: Johnny (Summer 1967)

This story is the third part of a series called "24 Boys" which recalls the
days of the late 1960s through the mid-1970s, when no one talked about
homosexuality or about boys experimenting with sex with other boys.  But it
happened anyway, of course; you just had to figure things out for yourself.
The stories are a combination of memory and fiction. All the names have been
changed.

The usual disclaimer applies.  Do not read this story if you are offended by
detailed accounts of boys having sex with other boys.  Do not read this
story if it is illegal for you to do so where you live.

Thanks to everyone who has written to say that they enjoyed the first two
parts.  I really appreciate it,  The scene shits back to Chicago for Part 4.

Comments are welcome at: sleepmemory@hotmail.com


Johnny (Summer, 1967)

Johnny Letts was the big brother of my new friend Davey -- we were twelve
and Johnny was fifteen.  The first time I saw Johnny was in some family
pictures that their grandma had in the cabin where she and Davey were
staying on Raccoon Lake.  My family had a house at the lake where I spent
every summer and, this year in particular, it had been really lonely until I
met Davey.  Ever since Davey and I had sealed our friendship exploring the
deserted island in the middle of the lake (see Part 2 of "24 Boys") we'd
become inseparable.  It had been just eight days since we met, but we'd gone
everywhere
together and had become best friends.  But with Davey's older brother
arriving up from Milwaukee on Sunday, we both knew that our activities were
going to have to change -- particularly the secret games we played on the
island.

"I don't want to take him there," Davey had said, "I want the island to be
just for us."  We weren't sure how we were going to get away from Johnny to
get to the island, but we also couldn't stand the thought of giving up the
daily dick play that we both loved.  Davey knew he was going to have to do
things with Johnny like swimming and miniature golf and fishing and while I
could tag along with the two brothers, it wouldn't be the same as us being
alone.   If Davey and I could get away from his brother, there were places
other than the island where we could do things with each other, but it was
only there that we could get hours-and-hours together to suck each others
dicks, talk, play cards, explore, and then suck and jack some more.  In a
week, Davey was going to go back home to Milwaukee along with his brother --
there weren't many kids who stayed at the lake the whole summer the way I
did -- and so unless we could figure out something, tomorrow was going to be
our last day of full time jacking and sucking.  We were planning to make the
most of it.

But tonight, Davey was in the middle of another endless game of cribbage
with his grandma.  Davey's grandma was nice, and I'd learned not to mind
their nightly games, especially since Davey and I spent all the daylight
hours roaming around in each other's company.  I sat in a big armchair while
they played, occasionally looking up from my book of Sherlock Holmes stories
to glance over at Davey, running my eyes along the length of his tanned legs
from where his plaid shorts ended down to the flat protrusion of his ankle
bone above the high arch of his slender bare feet.  Sometimes he'd jiggle
his leg up and down or arch them under his chair, with just the balls and
toes of his feet making contact with the floor.  Then, every once in a
while, he's break his concentration on the game and look over at me.  He was
so great looking that one time I got a boner just from the smile he gave me.
  Davey had these big lips --- lips I'd felt on my dick every day since we
started going to the island --- and thinking of them I got even harder.  I
positioned the Sherlock Holmes book over my lap just in case his grandma was
more aware of what we were up to all day than I thought.

After that, I couldn't quite concentrate on "The Red Headed League."  I
thought about going to the bathroom of the cabin to jack but, on second
thought, wanted to wait until Davey and I could do it together; every night,
after the cribbage game, we usually went out to look at the stars and we'd
found a low spot over near the boat launch where we could at least jack
together without anyone noticing.  Then I'd walk the path back toward my
family's house, where my mother would usually be sketching or reading the
newspaper.  I went to bed early a lot now, since all I could think of was
Davey -- his straight, thin dick with its small, perfectly shaped purple
head; his full lips around the shaft of my dick; the feeling of taking one
of his balls gently in my mouth and sucking on it, which he loved; the way
he'd stroke my dick, almost absent-mindedly, when we'd been laying quietly
together in-between bouts of sucking.  As much time as we spent at each
other's dicks during the day, I still jacked every night thinking of him
before falling asleep.

Davey turned his attention back to the cribbage game and, trying to distract
myself at least long enough to get my boner down, I put down my book and
walked over to the mantle, where his grandma had arranged some family
pictures in individual frames.  A few of the pictures had Davey and Johnny
in them, though most were pretty old.  In one, Davey was a toddler and his
brother Johnny was kindergarten age, dressed in a striped shirt and holding
a stuffed animal by the ears.  The most recent one had both boys with bows
and arrows wearing identical camp t-shirts and you could see how different
they looked --- Davey with his wavy brown hair, big brown eyes, and smile
and Johnny with straight blonde hair cut short, thin lips and no smile,
staring directly at the camera.  Then there was another photo, just of
Johnny in a Boy Scout uniform, with a sash of merit badges crossing his
chest.   From what Davey had said, Johnny sounded a lot more serious than
his little brother; he was a star player on his Senior League baseball team
and a whiz at math.  Davey had also told me that Johnny had gotten really
weird about not wanting to be seen naked, even by his brother, ever since he
started talking about girls about a year ago; neither Davey nor I were
interested in girls yet, and I wasn't so sure I ever wanted to be.  Just
looking at the photos, Johnny sort of scared me.  When I went back to the
armchair and picked up my book, my boner was definitely gone.

* * * 2 * * *

The day of Johnny's arrival, Davey had to stay near the cabin.  I decided to
go to the float and practice some dives -- Davey was a member of the junior
swim team at home, and it was a running joke between us that I was such a
clumsy diver and slow swimmer.  Davey had told me how the relay team, on
which he was the anchor, had a secret tradition in which the four boys
sucked each other the night before the swim meets for good luck; he'd joked
that while I'd never make the squad on my swimming talent, that my skills at
doing 69 -- which he'd introduced me to  -- would definitely qualify me to
be a team manager.

I took the motorboat out to the raft and stated practicing backflips,
pretending that Davey's hand was on my butt guiding me the way he always
did.  In between dives, I heard a voice in the distance across the lake and
looked toward the shore where I could make out Davey standing near the boat
dock at the Pine Cove cabins, where they were staying.  Davey waived and
indicated I should do another dive.  Instead of his swim team speedos or his
plaid shorts, he was wearing a pair of my swim trunks, the maroon and black
striped ones that were my favorite.  The day before, he'd asked me to lend
them to him, I didn't know why.  I waived back to Davey, then perched myself
at the edge of the float, leapt up slightly, and flipped backwards into the
water. I thought the dive was pretty good, but when I bobbed back to the
surface and wiped the water out of my eyes,  I saw that Davey was shaking
his head comically -- it was too far to see the expression on his face, but
I knew he was smiling.

After a few more dives, I decided to take a break and laid down on the beach
towel I'd brought with me to the raft.  Davey was out of sight; I figured
he'd been called inside.  I went down into the speedboat and got my book to
read and an apple I'd brought for a snack, and then just stretched out in
the sun.  Occasionally, my thoughts would drift and I'd rub my dick a
little, but just a couple times and quietly so nobody passing in a boat
could tell.  The red swim trunks I was wearing had the advantage of being a
bit looser than the maroon and black ones Davey had borrowed or the jeans
cut offs that I wore almost every day and I found I could flip my dick up
toward my stomach, with the head poking up slightly past my waistband, so
that I could rub it against the warm deck of the float.  Every once and a
while I'd get hot and, rearranging my dick in the swim trunks, I'd jump into
the water to cool off.  Except for after bedtime, it was the most time I'd
spent alone since I met Davey, but I was thinking of him constantly.

I'd taken another dip in the lake when I heard my name called.  I looked
toward the shore and saw a canoe coming toward the float with Davey in front
and a bigger, blonder boy at the rear -- his brother Johnny.  I pulled
myself up onto the float and waved, then watched them approach.  Davey was
wearing the pair of swim trunks he'd asked me to lend him along with his
junior swim team t-shirt.  Johnny, I could see was in black speedos and was
shirtless.  From all the baseball he'd been playing, Johnny had a deep tan
on his face, his lower arms, and the V of his neck, but where the uniform
jersey had been covering his flesh he was pale white -- like he was wearing
a ghost shirt.  His legs looked pretty white as well.  I felt a strange
sense of pride that Davey and I both looked so tan from being outside
together day after day, usually just in swim trunks or shorts.

When the canoe docked at the float, Davey climbed out first to tie the bow
line to the top rung of the ladder, hopping up and down a bit as the planks
scorched his bare feet.  He introduced me to Johnny and the three of us sat
on the edge of the float, with our feet dangling over the side.  What I
couldn't tell from the family photos in which I'd seen Johnny was what deep
blue eyes he had.  His hair was even shorter than in the photos, nearly a
buzz cut,.  His shoulders and chest were muscular in a way that Davey's and
mine weren't and he had small blond patches of hair under his arms.  After a
while it occurred to me that Davey, with his brown eyes and wavy brown hair
actually looked more like he was my brother than Johnny's, and I felt a
surge of pride again that he and I seemed so alike.  Johnny talked a lot
about the baseball championships he'd been playing in (his team made it to
the semifinals, but got eliminated in a game where Johnny had gone
three-for-four) and then the three of us talked about the things we could do
the next day.

Davey had stood up to follow a hawk with his eyes and then, without warning,
Johnny yelled out "king of the raft," jumped up and pushed Davey into the
water.  I leapt up to see if Davey was okay, felt a push from Johnny's hands
on my back, and then I was in the water too.  "You're gonna die John John, "
Davey called out, half laughing but also half-angry.  Davey and I were
treading water within a few feet of each other, with Davey in his soaked
t-shirt.  He made a hand motion and we swam to opposite sides of the raft so
that Johnny would be surrounded.  Davey tried to climb up first, but Johnny
flipped him back into the lake.  By then, though, I was up on the float.
Rather than try to shove Johnny off, I darted around the sides of the float
to give Davey the chance to climb up.  Johnny figured out what was
happening, but he was so strong that it took a few tries for the two of us
to overpower him and send him over the side with a big, satisfying splash.
Davey and I yelled in triumph and grabbed each other's shoulders, Davey's
wet hand and arm on across the bare flesh of my back and mine across his
sopping t-shirt.

"Okay," Johnny sputtered, "now you guys have to compete to see which of you
is the new king of the raft."

"We're both kings," Davey said, "co-kings."

"That's stupid, Dave-o," said Johnny, "there's no such thing as co-kings.
Hey," he pointed at me but spoke to Davey, "I'm putting my money on your
buddy in the red trunks to whip your swim team ass."  I later found out that
there was a rivalry where Davey and Johnny lived, between the kids like
Johnny who played the big team sports and those who played "wimp" sports
like swimming, cross-country, and tennis.

For once, my bookishness came in handy.  "There is such a thing as
co-kings," I said. "In ancient Sparta they'd elect two kings at once, one
for times of peace and one for times of war."  Then I whispered in Davey's
ear "the Spartans also played their athletic games t-o-t-a-l-l-y naked"

"Yeah," Davey yelled at Johnny,  laughing "we're Spartans and you'll need to
surrender to both of us to get back on the raft."  And suddenly I thought I
knew whey Davey had wanted to borrow a pair of my swim trunks -- he wanted
us to be like the brothers and Johnny to be the outsider.  The thought
caused my dick to rise and I put my hand on Davey's back, in-between where
he sharp shoulder blades stuck out in the sopping t-shirt he was still
wearing.

"Okay, okay," Johnny said, "I just wanted to make things fun.  Besides, me
and my friends play by American rules, not like ancient Greeks.  I'll
surrender now and kick your little Spartan butts later." When Johnny started
to climb back up onto the float,  Davey whipped off his soaking t-shirt and
winged it straight at his brother's face.  The wet t-shirt hit Johnny
squarely and Davey let out a cheer of "yeah Spartans" and jumped on my back,
his wet flesh cool against mine.   Johnny started laughing too, and while he
pulled himself up onto the raft Davey grabbed both my shoulders from behind
and pulled me to him so that, for a brief second, I could feel the boner in
his shorts.  "We gotta find a way to get away from Johnny and play some
Spartan games,'" he whispered in my ear.

*  * * 3  * * *

The next two days, Davey and I spent all our time with Johnny.  It was hard
for the two of us to get time alone and even our goodnight jacking sessions
under the stars had to be cancelled.  Johnny was actually pretty okay,
though he full of himself and talked constantly about playing baseball, how
dumb most of his teachers were, and the girls in his class at school.
Whatever the three of us did those two days, Davey and I usually found a way
to join forces against Johnny.  The first day, the three of us played a
marathon badminton tournment, with Davey and I against Johnny.  Davey and I
played in swim trunks and barefoot with our shirts off -- the closest we
could get to being Spartans in public. We probably would have played better
in our sneakers, but we were enjoying being nearly naked with each other.
Johnny wore his high school gym shorts and sneakers with his baseball
jersey.  The day was hot, and after a while he unbuttoned the jersey, so
that it flapped while he ran.  I noticed again how much more muscular he was
than us and also, when we were taking a break between sets, that there was a
thin trace a hair extending up from his shorts to near his navel.  Johnny
was such a good athlete that he managed to get under the shuttlecock even
when he I tried to drop a shot in front of him -- and I was a pretty good
badminton player.

After the badminton tournament, when the three of us were laying in the
grass, Davey pretended to pick a fight with me and we wrestled around
laughing until Johnny pulled us apart.  It was great just to roll around
with Davey after so long and, when we were walking back toward the cabin, I
tripped him and started to run so that he'd have the chance to chase me and
retaliate.  He caught up with me and we wrestled again.  This time Johnny
just watched.  Davey pinned me, with his bare belly across my chest and one
leg crossed over my crotch and made me say "Uncle," which I did, but not
until after pretending to try and throw him off by rocking back and forth,
grinding my chest against his midsection, both of us so slick and sweaty
that our trunks started to slip off our butts.  Johnny wasn't paying any
attention to us and was just weaving some twigs together absent-mindedly.  I
kept hoping he'd just walk ahead so Davey and I could duck into the woods
and get our dicks out.  But Johnny just sat there until we got up.  Davey
brushed the pine needles, grass and dirt off my back and chest and said that
he wouldn't let me off so easy next time.

The next day, we all went to the Fun Park in town and Davey and I competed
against Johnny at bumper cars and slot cars racers.  Then, that night, we
decided to go to the old movie theater in town.  It was showing a spy movie
with Dean Martin and Johnny was excited to see it because it would be "full
of babes."  There weren't very many people in the theater, which usually
wasn't very crowded except on weekends.  Johnny bought a box of Milk Duds
and Davey and I bought a big tub of buttered popcorn to share.  After the
travelogue, cartoon, and coming attractions, the movie started and Johnny's
attention was totally focused on the screen, which was full of bikini-clad
women.  Davey and I were less interested in the movie and started playing a
game where whenever one of us ate a hand of popcorn, he would wipe the
butter residue on the other guy's shirt or shorts or legs while the other
would try to stop him.  We did our best to stifle our laughs, but Johnny
still shot us nasty looks a couple times.  "Stop being such dorks," Johnny
said and turned his attention back to the screen, where Dean Martin was
pressing a button that caused his big round bed to tilt upward and slide him
and his girlfriends into a waiting bubblebath.  I took another handful of
popcorn and then I felt Davey's ankle press against mine and start rubbing
up-and-down.  My dick got hard instantly and I started thinking about how I
could sneak my hand over to Davey's dick without Johnny, or anyone else
seeing us.

I got an idea, and said: "hey Davey, let's go up and sit in the balcony."  I
was gambling that Johnny, his attention fixed on the "babes" on the screen,
would be glad to get rid of us and wouldn't follow.   I was right.  Davey
and I got up and headed for the stairs to the balcony and Johnny didn't
follow.  The balcony was only six rows deep, but there was no one up there
at all.  I led Davey to the back row and to the right of the projection
booth.  I didn't think we could be seen from the projection booth or from
below but slid down in my seat just to be safe.  Davey did the same and then
silently unzipped the zipper of his plaid shorts and pulled out his hard
little dick.  "Keep an eye on the entrance, " I said,  and then leaned over
and just got a taste of his dick in my mouth.  It had been so long!   I
could only get at the head and first inch, it was so awkward leaning over
from my seat.  Davey arched his back up from the theater seat so that I
could get closer.  I started moving my lips up and down, first just over his
dick head but then as far as I could get down the shaft,  I could tell he
was stifling his groans.  Then I was startled as the movie shifted from a
night scene to one set in broad daylight so that suddenly the theater was
bright with light.  I got really scared and pulled back, afraid of getting
caught, my heart beating like crazy.

"Okay," Davey whispered when the scene shifted back to an interior, " this
time you watch the entrance."  He reached over, pulled down the zipper on my
cutoffs and undid the button.  Then he got on his bare knees in front of his
seat and twisted his back so that he could get my hard dick into his mouth.
I was so scared that we'd get caught that I only let him do it for a second
or two, even though it felt so good.  I used my arm to guide him back into
his seat and then reached over and started slowly jacking his dick.  He
reached over and did the same.  I still kept looking over at the entrance to
the balcony, but was more relaxed as it would be easier for us to hide the
jacking than the sucking.  I still longed to have Davey's dick back in my
mouth, but soon I felt his hard-on start to throb and, not long after, mine
started to throb in his hand as well.  Then we both sat back, happy and
relieved to have gotten at each other's dicks, and hardly watching the movie
at all.

"More popcorn?" Davey asked in a whisper.   I didn't even realize he'd
brought the tub with him.  I grabbed a handful.   "It's the Breakfast of
Spartans" he whispered again, hardly able to stifle a laugh.  And as we sat
munching the popcorn and watching Dean Martin and his babes, I felt Davey's
bare ankle begin to rub up against mine again.

"That was really dangerous," I said as the end credits rolled.

"Yeah, crazy . . . and the balcony floor is pretty disgusting, " he laughed
quietly and moved my hand to show me where  his knees were sticky from the
soda residue on the floor.  We saw from the balcony that Johnny was getting
up, and met him in the lobby.

After the movie, the three of us went to the Ice Cream Shop, where my mom
had arranged to pick us up.  Johnny went over to put money in the jukebox
and as his first song came on -- "Creeque Alley" by the Mamas and the Papas
-- Davey leaned over the table and said: "Okay, I figured it out.  Johnny
sleeps really late.  So what we need to do is sneak out right at dawn and
get to the island then.  I can leave a note for my Grandma just saying that
we went out fishing."

"Okay, "I said,  "but how will we get up so early?"

"I'll come and get you," he said.  "I'll scratch at your bedroom window.
Tomorrow.  Real early."

* * * 4 * * *

It was hardly light at all when I heard a scratch at the screen window of my
bedroom and heard Davey whisper my name.  "Hi.  Give me a few seconds, " I
whispered back.  I'd brought a flashlight into my room and shined it through
the screen at Davey; it was a chilly morning, but he'd at least worn a
sweatshirt over the maroon and black striped swimming trunks he'd borrowed
from me.  I got out from under the covers and, hesitating for a second,
decided that I'd wear my other swim trunks, the red ones.  I pulled off the
white briefs I'd worn to bed; my dick was hard, either because of the usual
morning wood or because I knew Davey could see me in the beam of the
flashlight.  Once I had the swim trunks on, I grabbed a sweatshirt, pulled
on my addidas without lacing them, then went over to the screen, and
whispered to Davey "I'll come around the side."  I'd already written a note
to leave for my mom saying that Davey and I had gone out early fishing.

I closed the door of the house quietly and could see Davey outlined in the
near-darkness.  He grabbed my shoulder when I came up to him and then
reached down to my dick to give it a quick tug -- "nice woody" he whispered.
  I reached down and felt through his trunks for his dick, which was stiff
like mine: "Yeah, you too."

When we got in the rowboat the seats were wet with dew and only the faint
outline of the island could be made out in the distance.  I wasn't supposed
to be on the lake at night, but I figured that my mom wouldn't wake-up until
the sun was above the horizon and wouldn't know how early we'd gone out.
Davey, who had taken the oars, seemed a little worried too, but then we
looked at each other, exchanged a smile, and he said in a hushed tone "this
won't get us into anything like the trouble we would have been in if someone
had caught us in that balcony last night."  We both laughed.  "Yeah, I said,
"but my mom noticed that my t-shirt was reeking of popcorn butter."  We
laughed again, and Davey looked over his shoulder to keep us on course to
the island.

We got to the island, hid the boat, and walked the path to the clearing
where the abandoned house and other buildings  stood.  Davey and I entered
the through the loosened boards of the kitchen window.  The chilliness of
the morning, and sitting on the dew-moistened benches of the rowboat on the
way there, had left both of us chilled, much like the first time we went to
the island together (see Part 2 of "24-Boys").  Since that first time, we'd
explored most of the rooms and storage spaces of the abandoned house and so,
on the way upstairs to the big bedroom, we knew where to grab from the hall
closet a big wool blanket with broad colored stripes.  Like everything in
the house, it smelled a little musty, but we'd gotten used to that on our
visits.  When we got to the big bedroom, under the eaves, we spread the
blanket on the floor and then, with hardly a word, both stripped off the
swim trunks that were soaked wet through the seat and then our t-shirts and
sweatshirts.  Wrapping the blanket around us, we curled around each other
with hardly a word, our naked bodies pressed against each other for warmth.

After a time, Davey unwrapped the blanket and maneuvered his body so that
his mouth was near my dick.  I started to shift myself into "69" position as
I had had so often before in the eleven days I'd known him, but he stopped
me.  "Not yet," he said,  "I really want to concentrate on your dick first."
  And with that, he started a slow movement with his lips up and down my
dick, sometimes stopping for a moment to look up at me.  Knowing this might
be one of the last times we'd be on the island together, I watched his full
lips on my dick, his wavy hair flopping on my belly, and tried to freeze the
moment in my memory.  After a time, we reversed positions and I moved my
mouth to the base of his wonderful, straight and smooth dick, running my
tongue around the place where the shaft of his dick met his torso and then
around to that perfect ball sac.  I felt his dick start to throb and just
held the head in my mouth, waiting for that great feeling to subside.  Davey
fell back and shifted position so that his naked chest was again pressed to
my back.  Then he flipped the scratchy blanket over us again and quietly but
intently jacked my still hard dick in his hand until I started to throb too.

We laid together for some time, then Davey went off in search of a game to
play -- on our visits to the island, we'd gotten into the habit of breaking
up our dick sessions by playing cards or some of the old board games from
the chest in the living room.  Davey came back up the stairs, laid out a
checkerboard on the floor near where a patch of sunlight was lighting up the
floor, and set up the pieces.  It was gradually getting warmer, and we
abandoned the blanket and faced each other naked across the checker board.
Lying on his side with his head propped up on one arm,  Davey looked so
great -- the round knobs of his shoulders, the tanned skin of his chest over
his ribs, his deep brown nipples and the oval depression of his navel, the
perfect V where his torso tapered down from his hip bones to his penis.   I
looked again at the place where his dick met his torso and thought how my
tongue had licked at it just moments earlier.

About midway through the game, Davey made a move with one of his pieces to
the back rank of the board.  "King me" he said.  I placed a black checker
from the dead pile onto the live one to make it a king.  After a few more
moves, one of my red pieces made its way to his end of the board.  "Now you
king me, " I said.  Davey took a red piece from the dead pile and made my
piece a king.  "Good, "he said, "that's how its supposed to be, with both of
us kings."  "Yeah, " I said,  "Spartan kings.  Though I think it was usually
foot races and javelin throws and stuff like that they played naked, not
checkers." We both laughed and played on just a move or two further before
Davey moved over to my side of the board and pressed his lips to the base of
my dick, then traced it with his tongue and started to lick up the shaft
until his lips were at the curved flesh along the bottom of my dick head .
I shifted myself into the "69" position we were so accustomed to and we
started again our mutual and familiar movements of lips, tongues, and
mouths.

* * * 5 * * *

It was nearly noon when we neared the boat dock at the Pine Cove cabins in
the rowboat, and it wasn't a good sign that, when we got close, we saw
Davey's grandmother and my mom together.  It also didn't help that we'd
failed to actually bring along any rods or tackle on our morning "fishing"
trip, so they knew something was up.  When we landed the boat, it was clear
that they'd been worried and I felt bad.  Davey and I had intended to get
back no later than nine or nine thirty -- I'd even worn my watch -- but it
was hard for us to leave the island.  I'd also stopped to carve Davey's
initials -- DL -- lightly (I figured I'd go back and make them deeper when I
had more time) into the trunk of the tree next to mine and below those of my
brother and sister.  It was sort of against the family rules -- that tree
was just for the initials of the brothers and sisters -- but I felt like the
island was Davey's place too.  We landed the rowboat at the Pine Cove dock
and walked over to where mom and Davey's grandmother were sitting in some
metal lawn chairs.  They weren't too angry -- it would have been worse with
my dad -- but we had to promise to stay in their sight or at least in
Johnny's.  So that looked like it for Spartan games, at least for that
summer.  I was already thinking about -- and hoping -- that Davey's grandma
would rent the cabin again next July and was worried she'd be angry about
our sneaking off and would take Davey and Johnny elsewhere next summer.

My mom went back toward the house and Davey tried to get back into his
grandmother's good graces by helping her get lunch ready.  I went looking
for Johnny, feeling a little bad about our having ditched him -- he was a
pretty good guy, really.  When we first got back in the rowboat, I thought
I'd seen Johnny go into the old Pine Cove boat house, which wasn't used much
in the summer when the canoes were left at the dock.  As I was walking
around the outside of the boathouse, I caught a glimpse of something through
a window.  I stopped and, peering through the glass, saw Johnny on his back
on the floor of the boathouse, his gym shorts down around his ankles, his
baseball jersey unbuttoned, and his hand furiously jacking his dick up and
down.  I could tell he wasn't far from his climax; he'd arched his back, his
eyes were clenched shut, and his face was twisted in a grimace.  I'd seen
the dicks of boys Johnny's age at the Y in town, but never hard and I
couldn't believe how long and thick it was -- almost angry looking.  At that
moment, with the memory of our morning on the island still fresh, I just
didn't want to think that Davey's beautiful, perfectly-shaped little dick
would look thick and gross like that some day; that the junction of torso
and dick-shaft that I loved to look at on Davey's body would some day be
covered with a dark patch of hair the way Johnny's was.

Johnny's hand continued to pump furiously at his dick.  I wasn't attracted
by what I was seeing but I also couldn't stop watching.  Finally I could see
his hand begin to relax and then, all the sudden, I saw three jets of liquid
shoot out of his dick and fly into the air of the boathouse.  I'd heard
about older kids "cumming" from my friend Billy, but still didn't expect it
and let out a loud, involuntary laugh.  Johnny looked up scared, then saw me
at the window and his expression turned to anger.  I took off and started
running toward the path to my house and thought I could get away, but Johnny
must have pulled-up his gym shorts in an instant because it seemed like I
could hear his footsteps behind me almost immediately.  I tried cutting back
toward the Pine Cove, but he changed directions with the instinct of a
natural athlete and tackled me at the ankles so that I fell to the lawn.

"I'm going to kill you," he said, his face all red, and I believed him.
"What the hell were you laughing at?"

It took me a second to catch my breath.  He was still pinning me at the
ankles.  "I just hadn't seen that before, " I said "A guy shoot stuff like
that."  I could see he was calming down a bit.  "I mean, " I added,  "do you
shoot like that every time?"

"Maybe not every time," Johnny said.  "But I was horney as hell and it's
hard to get privacy in the cabin." He started to look angry again. "Look, if
you tell Davey about what you saw I'm going to be mad and, if you're not
around, I'm going to take it out on him.  I know you guys are pals but I
don't want him knowing I still jackoff."

"Okay, okay," I said. "But what's such a big deal about jacking?  I mean,
don't most kids do it?" I asked.  But at the same time I felt a secret
relief that Johnny didn't jack in front of his brother.

"Yeah," he said, "all kids do it.  "But when you start chasing girls, you're
supposed to stop so that you have stuff left for them."  He thought for a
second, and then added: "but it's hard to stop, especially since girls
aren't like guys and don't mess around so easily."  He paused again and
released his grip on my ankles.  "And seeing you two guys goof off, it is so
friggin obvious that you're at each others dicks, it was getting me all
horny remembering the stuff I used to do at your age."

I didn't say anything, not wanting to betray Davey's confidence or admit
anyone else into our secrets.  Johnny was sort of looking off into the
distance.  "So you used to do a lot of stuff with other boys? " I asked.

"Yeah," he said.  "It was great when I was your age."  Johnny hesitated for
a second, then flopped back on the lawn and looked up at the trees; he
didn't seem to want to look me in the eyes.  "Davey probably told you about
the tradition of the guys on the Oakdale junior relay swim squad sucking
each other before a meet.  I was on the squad that started that.  We didn't
have many good swimmers that year and one of the kids on the relay squad,
Derek, had the worst freestyle stroke you've even seen.  He sort of reminds
me of you.  He was a scrawny kid and swam third and we'd always lose so much
ground by the time we got to our anchor, Matt, that the squad never got even
third place.  It was pathetic.  So Matt got really frustrated one time and
told Derek that if he handed him the lead just once, he'd suck his dick.
Well, it looked like a safe bet but, like, the next day the head swim coach
decided that he was going to make Derek's freestyle a special project of
his, and, week-after-week, Derek improved so much that it looked as if Matt
was going to have to pay up."

Johnny shifted position so that his back was propped up on his arms.  "Well,
" he continued, "just a week before the end of the season, Derek swam a
great stage and handed Matt the lead.  Matt swam like hell and we won the
relay for the first time.  When Matt climbed out of the pool, all of us just
looked at him, ready to laugh.  The coach took us to Dairy Queen afterwards,
and my friend Jim, the fourth kid on the squad, ordered a soft ice cream
cone and just kept licking it around-and-around and looking at Matt and
Derek and laughing.  The coach had no idea what was going on and, when he
went over to talk to a friend at another table, Derek told Matt he didn't
have to pay up.  Jim protested, but Matt was relieved and said thanks and he
and Derek shook hands and left it at that.  But we all kept talking about
it, and after a while the four of us got in the habit of making these insane
bets with each other, with dick sucking always the wager.  Soon, before
every tournament we'd be paying off bets, with our hairless little dicks in
each other's mouths.  The next year, we were the best relay team around, and
we decided that it had to be because of all the sucking we did.  So we made
it a tradition for as long as we were on the team together."

"Did you like it?" I asked.  It seemed weird to me that Johnny and his
friends had to dare each other and place bets in order to get at the other
kids' dicks.  With my friends Ted and Billy, and now with Davey, dick play
had happened so naturally.

"Yeah, I loved sucking" Johnny said, "especially with Jim.  He became my
best friend and we'd suck and jack all the time.  When he sucked me, he'd
just claw at my ass to get as much of my dick down his throat as possible
and even when I started shooting cum, he'd swallow it.  We tried out for the
baseball team together and both made it, Jim as a pitcher and outfielder and
me at second base.  But the baseball team was way different.  The guys on
the team are really into babes and you sort of had to have a girlfriend to
fit in.  Jim and I would double date and it was cool, but one night after a
dance at high school we dropped our dates off at their homes and were both
so horny that we fell back into sucking.  We just devoured each other and it
was great, but I could tell the minute that Jim came he was all weirded-out.
  He said he didn't want our friendship to go that way anymore.  The strange
thing is that Matt and Derek got to be even closer friends and they aren't
alike at all the way that Jim and I are.  Matt is on the b-ball team and has
a really cool girlfriend, but I know that he and Derek still do stuff
together."

"So," Johnny said, tossing an acorn in the air, catching it, and tossing it
again, "seeing you and Davey hang out, I remember how cool it could be to be
twelve or thirteen.  Once I finally find the right girlfriend it probably
won't seem so bad, but right now, I'm kind of jealous of you guys."  Johnny
laughed and threw the acorn at my chest.  I looked at it and thought, for
the first time, how much acorns looked like little dick heads.  For a
second, I even thought about licking it to see what it tasted like.  "Hey,
don't tell Davey about this stuff, huh," Johnny asked.   I nodded.  "You
guys are in boy heaven this year," Johnny said, "and I don't want Davey to
know that his big brother only has his own five fingers to play with."

I nodded again, silently changing Johnny's words in my mind to say that
Davey and I were in boy kingdom -- boy heaven made it sound like we were
angels and just from that great, devilish expression Davey would get on his
face when he'd look up at me before putting his lips around my dick, I knew
we weren't that.  I couldn't imagine angels grabbing each other's dicks and,
after listening to Johnny, I hated the idea that at some point I'd feel the
need to give up dick play with other guys for the kind of stuff you do with
girls.  I reached my hand out to Johnny and said "I promise" and didn't
quite stop myself before I made the stupid little kid gesture of crossing my
heart with other hand.  Johnny shook my hand and gave me a grin, but then
looked away, sort of like he was embarrassed, and then snagged another acorn
off the ground, tossed it high in the air and caught it behind his back.

* * * 6 * * *

I didn't like the idea of keeping secrets from Davey, but I never did tell
him about discovering Johnny jacking in the boathouse or about the story his
older brother had told me.  Maybe it was because I felt sorry for Johnny --
that his best friend was acting weird and didn't want to jack and suck with
him anymore (I mean, Johnny said that their friend Matt had a girlfriend but
still did stuff with Derek).  But it was also because my friendship with
Davey put us in our own world and, with just a couple days left before he
had to go back to Milwaukee, I didn't want anything to disturb it.

The last two days of Davey's and Johnny's stay at Raccoon Lake went fast.
Since the predawn trip to the island, Davey and I had to be pretty careful
to stay in sight, but that morning had been so perfect that we didn't feel
as anxious about knowing that it was going to be our last visit there, at
least for that summer.  On the Saturday before the brothers were going to go
home, we took some bikes and went into town.  Johnny had his baseball spikes
tied over the center bar of the bike he was riding and, when we got to town,
he rode over to the baseball diamond in the park to see if he could get into
a pickup game.  One of the town teams was playing -- I recognized a gas
station attendant, a bank teller, and the son of the grocery store owner --
and even though they were all adults, they were willing to let Johnny play.

Johnny took up a position in left field, and Davey and I sat on the couple
rows of stands to the left of the backstop.  It was a sunny day and, after
an inning or so, Davey and I pulled off our shirts and just enjoyed the
warmth.  Johnny was such a great, natural ballplayer that the older guys on
the team soon switched him to shortstop, where he made two amazing diving
catches in a row.  Playing out there with guys in their 20s and 30s, Johnny
looked like a kid again and I began to see for the first time how neat
looking he was.  In the fifth inning, Johnny came to bat with a runner on
second and hit a scorcher over the head of the other team's first baseman.
Neither team was playing with a right fielder and, by the time the ball was
chased down, Johnny had slid into home.  When Johnny got back to the bench,
one of the older guys on the team rustled his hair and Johnny's face broke
out in this big grin.  Davey and I stood and cheered and laughed.  As we sat
back down, I looked at Davey -- he was back in his plaid shorts and he
looked great, with his slim legs shiny from their thin layer of sweat.  He'd
kicked off his canvas slip-ons and his bare feet were propped up on the
bench seats below.  When Johnny made another nice play, I grabbed Davey's
sun warmed shoulder for a moment and couldn't believe that I'd been so lucky
to make such a great friend.

After the game, Johnny came around from the team bench.  His spikes were
laced together and hung around his neck and he'd unbuttoned his baseball
jersey to reveal his bare chest, which was dusty and sweat-streaked from the
game.  He looked kind of cool, really, and my eye drifted down almost
involuntarily to locate the thin line of light hair that ran up from his
waist toward his navel.  Johnny looked tired but really, really happy.
Davey pulled on his slip-ons and the three of us walked over to the walk-up
window of the Ice Cream Shop.  We ordered soft ice cream cones and then
found a place to sit -- Davey and me, still shirtless, sitting with our
backs against the side of the café and Johnny sprawled on the ground across
from us, his open jersey showing that at leas he'd managed to pick up some
sun on his chest since he came up.  We all talked about the game and then,
sadly, about what we were going to do that last evening and night before the
two brothers had to go home.

That evening, the three of us got in one more session swimming and diving
from the float on the lake on which I'd met Davey nearly two weeks ago.  It
was all pretty easy-going, with none of the competition and stuff from when
Johnny first arrived.  Then, that night after dinner, it was back to the
cribbage board for Davey and his grandma.  While they played, Johnny and I
sat on the porch swing of the cabin and talked about things in general.
Occasionally, my gaze would drift toward the cabin window, so that I could
see Davey in the living room, as usual jiggling his legs up and down,
crossing and uncrossing his bare feet under his chair, sweeping his floppy
brown hair out of his eyes with his hand.  One time, I knew Johnny was
following my gaze, but he was cool about it.  I'd decided he could be a
pretty okay big brother.

It was hard saying goodbye to Davey that night -- they were going to
check-out early the next morning and start the drive back down to Milwaukee.
  He gave me his address and we agreed to write each other.  We thought that
maybe we'd find a way to visit each other, but that seemed unlikely during
the school year.  He was about to go to get my maroon and black swim trunks
to give back to me, but I lied and told him that I'd gotten to like the red
ones better and said he could keep them others.  It was nearly ten o'clock,
and I said "I guess I better get home."  Davey just nodded and held out his
hand for me to shake -- as close as we'd been, it still seemed like the
right way to say goodbye.

When I got home, my mom and dad were working on a jigsaw puzzle -- dad had
come up for the weekend, the way he usually did.  The puzzle was distracting
in a good way and, even after they went to bed, I kept putting together the
pieces that formed a painting of the canals of Venice, stopping occasionally
to just think about Davey and how much I was going to miss him.  It was
probably near one o'clock when I got into bed.  Thinking of Davey, I started
to rub my dick slowly, but then it just didn't seem quite right and I
stopped.  I just laid back and replayed the last two weeks in my head,
occasionally drifting off but never sleeping deeply.

I was dozing when I was awakened by the sound of a fingernail scratching at
the screen window of my bedroom and by Davey's voice whispering my name.  I
looked over at the glow-in-the dark dial of the alarm clock -- it was a bit
before 4 a.m.  "Hey, " he whispered.  "I have something for you."  I found
the flashlight on the nightstand and shined the beam at Davey, then lifted
the screen so he could climb through the window.  He was in the maroon and
black swim trunks, his  camp t-shirt, and the canvas slip-ons; I was in the
white briefs and t-shirt I'd worn to bed.  Davey and I sat together on the
edge of my bed and he handed me something wrapped in a brown paper lunch
bag.   I opened it and found the pair of swim team speedos he'd been wearing
when we first met on the float.

"This makes you an honorary member of the swim team," Davey said,  "or of my
swim team, anyway."  I thanked him and shined the flashlight onto his torso
so that the light was reflected on his face without being in his eyes.  "But
you still need to keep practicing your backflip," he smiled.

"I will, " I said.

"Give me the flashlight and try them on, " Davey said.  And in the beam of
the flashlight, I pulled off my t-shirt and white briefs, showing the boner
I'd had since I'd heard Davey at the window.  I pulled on the speedos, which
did nothing to calm the hard-on.  "You look great, " Davey said, but then
laughed with his voice rising slightly above a whisper, "but you probably
want to tuck that rod under so it goes between your legs."  I laughed back
and started to rearrange myself in the speedos.  Davey shifted the beam of
the flashlight so that it was shining on his own crotch.  My eyes followed
the beam, and I could see his on dick was stiff in the swim trunks I'd given
to him."

"You need some re-arranging too, " I said and reached into the waistband of
the swimtrunks to touch his bare, hard dick.  We both knew where this was
leading and in a matter of seconds, the flashlight was off and we were naked
in my bed in the familiar 69 position.  The darkness created its own mood,
and our mutual sucking was slow, gentle, and long.  There at the lake house,
my parents bedroom was just on the other side of the wall, but our movements
were so smooth and regular that the bed didn't squeak a bit once we were
settled into our positions.

After what seemed like the longest 69 ever, I felt Davey's dick pulse in my
mouth.  I hit my climax just moments after.  We separated and shifted
positions to fall asleep in each others arms.  Once, I woke up and could
feel a couple silent tears had fallen onto my shoulder.  I didn't say
anything, but knew then that Davey was going to miss me as much as I was
going to miss him.  When dawn came, he stood up and, before pulling the swim
trunks and t-shirt back on, stretched with his arms behind his head so that
his body was one perfect arc from wavy hair and smooth armpits to his
narrow-arched feet, with the pivot at his perfect slender dick.  My own dick
got hard again.  Davey dressed, and ran his hand from my dick up across my
chest.  "I'll write," he said, "you'll always be my best friend."  And,
grabbing his slip-ons, he climbed back out the window and disappeared down
the path toward the trees.

* * * Epilogue (Summer 1967) * * *

For two weeks straight, I secretly slept in the speedos Davey had given me.
My friends Ted and Billy did visit in August, but I was so afraid of losing
the memory of those two perfect weeks with Davey, that I avoided getting
into much dick play with either of them.  This was good in another way, as
while in Chicago I'd played dick games with Ted and did less innocent things
with Billy, the three of us never did naked stuff together and I didn't
think Ted was even aware of what Billy and I did when we were alone with
each other.  Billy, Ted and I joked around in the bedroom at night -- Ted
and I sharing the bed and Billy on the floor in a sleeping bag -- but I
still thought of Davey all the time.  But I never talked to them about him;
one day when they were visiting, I got a letter from Davey, but hid it and
waited to read it until I could be alone for a while.  Davey wrote that he
was going out for track and field to practice for becoming a true Spartan
with me next summer, but that his school didn't have any javelins, so that
it would be my job to practice for that event.

When Billy and Ted went back to Chicago,  I spent several days locating
long, straight branches to whittle into javelins.  Then, when my mom would
go out shopping or to see friends and I had the house and yard to myself, I
put on the speedo Davey had given me and practiced my javelin throws,
running forward barefoot and shirtless and launching the sharpened spear
across the lawn, practicing until I could get good enough at it to teach
Davey my technique when, as I hoped, he and his brother Johnny came up to
Raccoon Lake again next summer.