Date: Sun, 24 Aug 2008 04:59:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tim Stillman <novemberhourglass@yahoo.com>
Subject: g/m young friends  "Take off Your Clothes"

			   Take Off Your Clothes
				    By
			     Timothy Stillman

"The summer soothes the restless sky.
And, lovingly, she warms the sand on
Which you lie."


The day was summer at Brighton Beach. The sky was bright blue plastic. The
sea and rocks and sand and saw grass was reflected in it, a beautiful
bubble of a world, upside down.

He swam there most summer long, days of green and cold water and
revivifying heat, naked and long and dark of shoulder length hair. He was
an arrow of boy, his penis hard much of the time, for 15 is a stressful
year of being.

End of summer is lonely sounding and he wished seagulls and corners of the
world he would never see, as if they could be medals on his St. Christopher
chain, the only thing he wore on these cooling days, when the world with
certain discourse said one word and one knell onlyâ€"school ahead.

As he dived his bronze body to the bottom of forever. Oh he felt sexy and
daring, with himself bare out in the center of everything. In time his job
at the green grocer's would again commence. In time he would sit in third
desk to the right window seat and see his sexual summer drawing up like
purse strings. Prize possession to be hidden.

Not now though, in his hardness he gripped with his hands as he ballooned
tidily up to the surface, thus breaking back to air and sun and
soundâ€"so much sound in the world of quietâ€"the rush of water, the
hush heat going dimmer of the sun, the way the wind blew the grass and
stirred him as though a lover's hands were holding him, were fingers
tickling him.

And one day he would not swim alone.

He wanted to jack off so much, but he always waited till the end of the
day. Forcing pleasure to wait was his way of taming it and himself. He
floated on his back. His five incher stalagmite in his pouch stared at the
sun one eyed, all brave and boy and decisive and ecumenical and daring and
clever.

And young as he felt the sea on his little ball sac, that better get
bigger, or I'll tell you wot, he thought, Mr. One Eye too, you hear me down
there, Mr. All So High and Mighty, get to work, you! â€"As he laughed
and paddled his arms round him and dreamed of being with Marcus again,
dreamed of Marcus touching him and letting himself be touched.

All so quickly darted, as he kicked his legs and turned on his stomach,
fine bony bonny bum to the air, as he began to swim.  Marcus was like
lightning. The new kid in school for one half year till mum got sick and
dad had to send her away to a sanatorium and then he and his son moved
closer to her.

Marcus had been here, at Brighton, where the summer tourists with their
straw hats and their old age or their middle age or young and with children
in tow. Their floppy straw hats.  Their way of leaving litter wherever they
went. That was last year, one dark deep starless night, two weeks before
school started and Marcus sitting on the beach, first time seen by the boy
more Aqua-lad than human being, as he had come to lie on the beach when no
one else was there and mum was asleep soundly.

His last two weeks of freedom, that night, he had come to jack off to the
sky and to imagine a beautiful man with hands of artist and kisses of the
flames of the sun, with penis wise and rising and full and kissable and
moldable and enough to put itself to the boy's bum and give him his first
full glorious fuck, to cream the sea in him and be held tightly and
dominated by soft hands and gentle voice, with the piston deep inside him
and they both like a clock with two hands swinging in teamwork of rare
proportion.

But there Marcus. And he stood by Marcus who seemed not to notice his
presence; two boys as yet untouched "that way." His penis was erect in his
swim trunks he had been about to shed and pretend on his side and back and
stomach on warm still sifting sand that he was being shagged by a man of
trees and forests and berries eaten in a morning diet of sun worship and
body painting and sand open up and the world take me to heaven sent now
ambrosia of his full naked body against my tall but still small one.

And it happened.

Neither could have said. Marcus had problems. He needed a dream. So there
was Aqua-lad right beside him; Aqua-lad who did wear trunks in the comics
but wrongly so, therefore it was thoroughly natural for Marcus, timid, to
raise hands to those trunks and take them off, Marcus still without turning
his head or seeing the boy beside him.

As Marcus stood in the dark dark night of rushing foam and a Tattler on the
tide rushing back the wet paper and drowning ink tabloid into the darkness
where Gorgo could use it as a napkin if he liked, Aqua-lad, who was now
bare for the first time, sexually, his penis sticking out straight, with
another boy, loins still coded, decided in a split second, it was
embarrassing being this way with a boy, somehow this one in particular,
though he hadn't really seen him yet, and only right his hands should
de-trunks Marcus.

And then pirouette and then gasps and then green eyes and brown eyes and
body fuller and body thinner and arms longer and arms taller and lust the
same and penis smaller and curved and penis longer and straight ahead till
morning and boys of warm and boys close enough to each other to feel the
other's breath and boys with shorter legs and longer and boys with beating
hearts pressing chests together to hear and feel and imagine, and now hands
to strange but not strange for long penises and rubbings as on tombstones
in cemeteries out of which life flowed..And young...and instantly in love.

For the two weeks before school they were inseparable.  During school and
after as much as they could be. On weekends...well, you got it. And they
swam naked and they drifted their penises and they touched and felt and
kissed all over and Aqua-lad asked without asking Marcus to fuck him, but
Marcus would get that crinkly little smile on his face and the day
surrounded them and life was sweet as all the honey heaven is supposed to
hold and dream faces said me said you and they became one.

As the boy floated on his back this now day, looking up at the sky,
remembering it bright bling sung and on that huge movie screen up there, he
saw the memories of last year, darting in and out, whispering "take off
your clothes" and the boys did with such alacrity and fun and innocence and
cumming in mouths and in hands and on chests and licking balls and sleeping
cat nap their heads on each other's bums, here where no tourists came for
it was rocky and not duck soup for them to walk and we can't have any
inconvenience now can we?

As he touched Marcus up there in the sky and remembered how they talked
without talking, how they made each other feel good just by being together
and the sad of Mark and the happy of his friend, and the blending and
holding sometimes on the beach, always naked, even when the wind
turned. Even when the world was casting itself in a colder clime, they just
held together and warmed each other.

And it was fine.

Till Autumn sneaked in and they were forced to wear clothes all the time
and trunks at the beach. But clothes and trunks are fun to reach into as he
thought these thoughts and of the time of Marcus going away with his dad to
be closer to his mum, they had held, small boys in a too big too uncaring
world. They talked of good days they had had and good days to
come. Aqua-lad name of Tony had imagined himself today as if Marcus had not
happened. As if their friendship was not continuing. To scare himself, to
sink into the old sadness, to break free from it and rise to the surface
and see it's quite a beautiful world out here.

They IMed often and emailed and today, well today, Marcus had gotten a web
cam. And tomorrow well tomorrow, Aqua-lad would have one too. And they
would not be far apart. But touching. But take off your clothes and
watching your best friend in the whole wide world do that just for you. As
Marcus' best friend in the whole wide world did that just for him, behind
many-times checked lock doors. And love will find a way. And he had a
little surprise for next holiday. His mum had said yes. And he danced in
the sea and knew it would happen. Nothing, nothing, would dare stop it.

So he floated this fine day and noticed his hand rubbing his penis, no, his
cock, and almost without awareness, his boy body so sensual all the time,
his cum exploded into the clear air, like a little Moby Dickâ€"thar she
blows, Cap. Ahab, and he convulsed in the froth of himself in the froth of
the sea and fifteen going on sixteen was a beautiful age to be; even the
huge lonely he was in felt now cut down in size for a small though tall boy
or he had grown huge to fit the lonely and burst it through.

He dog paddled now as day was dying and red washed the sky slowly and swam
to shore to dress and go home, lock his room door, check it five, make it
six times, then turn on his comp and soon to hear the words again, to say
the words again, "take off your clothes."

And after fiddling with the monitor in his hi-tech room, they would. And
when boys are bare on monitor screens, well, they have to do something to
occupy their time, o what to do? O what to do??

And as he drenched walked to his trunks and clothes, remembering every inch
of his friend's body, the taste of his friend's cum, the sight of his
friend sucking him; well one day he would have sex and know what fucking
was like. But the pronoun "he"? Did he mean himself or Marcus? Trouble with
real friends. Can't tell where one leaves off and the other begins. A
pretty nice predicament, he thought, whichever he would be, or both at
once.

He sat down at his computer turning on, musical fanfare, and waited for
another miracle that was just about there. Brighton Beach and two boys and
how their lives were then, in that upside down bubble sky, "in their
kingdom by the sea," and how in their hearts, they were together again, and
vowed one day to be, but for right now, God bless technology. Lifeline to
heart and words and teen boy ecstasy.