Chapter 19

When I got back to school on Monday, I was surprised to see that there was quite a buzz going on about me. Apparently, word had gotten out about the ski accident over the weekend. I still thought it was much ado about nothing. In fact, I was beginning to wish everybody would just shut up about it.

I sat by myself in the cafeteria, trying to cut off all the fat on the greasy roast beef they served for lunch today. Jesus, it looked like shit, I thought.

Suddenly, I heard a voice off to my right.

"Wil! I've been looking for you everywhere."

I looked up and saw Ginny running down one of the aisles. She ran up and sat down in the empty seat next to me.

"You've got to let me interview you for the school paper!" she said, breathlessly. "My editor wants to put your picture on the front page of Friday's issue. You're the man of the hour!"

I rolled my eyes. "C'mon, Ginny," I mumbled, as I took a bite of the roast beef, which actually wasn't half-bad. "That's a bunch of crap. All the guys on the boat helped. I was just there."

"That's not what I heard," she said. "I just called Sky at home on the phone, and he said you saved his life."

I sighed. I really didn't want to make a big deal out of this. I was just thankful that nothing serious happened.

"I gave him CPR," I said, "but he would've been fine. I think he was already coming to."

"That's bullshit, Larson, and you know it!" said a voice behind me.

I turned and saw the smiling faces of Mark and Barry, from the swim team. They walked over and pounded me on the back. "You're the big hero, man!" laughed Mark.

"Yeah," said Barry. "Sky would've been a dead duck if it wasn't for you, man."

Ginny was furiously scribbling in her notepad. I looked up and shook my head at my two friends, who were grinning at me.

"C'mon, Wil," whispered Mark. "You should milk this for all it's worth. If nothin' else, you can probably use this to get into her pants." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

"What was that?" said Ginny, looking up from her notepad.

"I said, we were gonna go back and get another carton of milk," laughed Mark.

Barry put his hand on my shoulder. "Wil really did save Sky last Saturday. We were so plastered..." He caught a glimpse of my frantic eyes, and quickly caught himself. "I mean, we were so busy with the boat, we didn't even notice that Sky had hit the buoy. If it hadn't been for Wil, we wouldn't have even found Sky, let alone revived him. Yep, he's a hero alright."

"Wil," said Ginny as she got up, "I'm got to run over to the journalism office and make an appointment with the staff photographer. Can you and Sky come by first thing in the morning and let us take some shots?"

"He should be back to class by tomorrow," I said. "I'll call him at home and check it out."

"Here's my number at the Observer office," she said, handing me a piece of paper. "Call me this afternoon after school, and we'll set it up. And Wil," she continued, smiling at me. "Don't kid yourself -- you are a hero, even if you don't want to admit it."

I grinned. "Alright, alright, I give up," I said, defeated. "Just promise me it won't go on the front page."

"Are you kidding?" she said. "It's been so dull around this place lately, we've got two giant holes to fill in for this week's issue. This'll be the biggest story we've had all month!"

I sighed. I guess I was doomed to be a hero, no matter what.

Sky was back to school the next day. He was now using a cane instead of the crutches, but he was definitely getting as much sympathy as he could out of it. Melissa walked beside him, carrying his books. I felt a little pang of jealousy, then pushed it out of my head.

"Hey, hero," said Sky, as I walked up to him in the hallway. "You all set for the photos during lunch?"

I grimaced. "They're really making much too much out of this," I said, shaking my head.

"No, they're not, man," he said, seriously. "You saved my life. I really owe you, now."

"And don't forget your grades, too," chimed in Melissa. She smiled at me, then put her arm around Sky's neck. I know she didn't mean the gesture to hurt me, but it felt like an arrow through my heart.

"Yeah," said Sky. "That, too. Thanks, Wil -- for everything."

"Right," I said, trying to sound detached. "I'll meet you at 12:30 over at the newspaper office."

By the end of the day, I'd had about enough of people whistling at me in the hallway and calling me 'the hero.' I was just glad that Ginny hadn't asked me and Sky to re-enact the 'kiss of life' I had to give him on the boat. I made it to Phys Ed, and had just started tying up my Keds when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, and it was Tim McMannis, one of the older guys from my Chorus class.

"Hey, Wil," he said, in a soft voice. Tim was what some guys would call 'wimpy,' while girls might call him 'sensitive.' I knew instinctively what he really was, and it kind of scared me. Tim was very thin, and he had an unusual face, with high cheek bones and delicate features, and his voice was high and a little effeminate. He was one of the lead tenors in Chorus, and was known for having a great sense of humor and being an all-around fun guy.

"Hi, Tim," I said, casually. "How's it goin'?"

"That was... great what you did for Sky," he said, dreamily. "I heard all about it. He's so lucky to have somebody like you."

"Yeah, well," I said, closing my clothes locker door and snapping the lock shut, "we've known each other forever, and we're kinda like brothers."

"Yeah," he said. He had that look on his face -- the kind of look I used to see on my friend Ronnie's, when he was particularly lustful. "I think you two are maybe closer than that." He giggled and smiled at me, knowingly.

Shit, I thought. Was it that obvious to other people?

I let the remark pass by. "I gotta go, Tim," I said, looking away. "Coach has got us running quarter-mile sprints today."

He nodded. "Yeah. Listen, Wil -- if you'd ever like to get together or something," he said, hopefully, "could you... ah..."

"I'm kinda busy, Tim," I interrupted, pushing past him to the doorway. "But, yeah, maybe we could do that sometime." I ran out and joined the other guys on the track.

Coach Jackson was particularly grueling today. I knew that the other PE coaches would've been a lot more lenient, but Jackson pushed us almost beyond human endurance, making us run the course all period long, and bullying the stragglers at the end of each race. Maybe it was because he was the head of the track & field department. When there were only five minutes left in the class, he finally blew his whistle.

"Okay, men! Listen up," he yelled. "One more lap around the track, and then ya can hit the showers."

"Oh, shit, not again," I muttered, perhaps a little bit too loudly.

"WHAT WAS THAT, LARSON?" he bellowed.

My face blanched. "Uh, nothing, Coach," I said, quietly, looking down at the asphalt.

Suddenly, Jackson was in my face. "I'm not deaf, Mr. Larson!" he said. "For that little remark, you get five more laps, startin' right now! And if you say one more word, you'll be runnin' 'till five o'clock! And that goes for the rest of you chicken-fats! Now move it!"

I sighed, shook my head, and glumly started trotting around the course. After ten minutes, I was completely alone on the track. Finally, I finished the last lap and staggered up to the corner of the chain-link fence, leaning against it for relief. My shirt was soaked with sweat, and my lungs felt like they were going to burst. I caught my breath, then exhaustedly trotted back down the hill over to the boys' locker room, pulling my T-shirt off over my head on the way. Only a few students were still there, and I heard the final bell ring in the distance.

"Hey, hero!" one guy called. "I heard you're gonna be in the school paper on Friday, Wil!" said another.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, non-plussed. "Read all about it."

I slipped off my gym shorts and jockstrap and grabbed my towel. Well, at least I wouldn't have any problem getting a shower stall today, I thought. I walked down the hall and through the tile doorway into the shower room, which was totally empty. I chose one of the newer faucets in the very back row, and cranked up the tap as hot as I could stand it. I lathered up and stood there for several minutes, just letting the warm water cascade over my tired muscles, as I leaned on the wall for support. It felt terrific, I thought. Maybe I really should run more. Even though I couldn't stand running, I had to admit: it felt really great once you stopped -- kind of like the old joke about hitting yourself on the head with a hammer.

Suddenly, I was dimly aware of someone else entering in the shower room and turning on a nearby faucet. I kept my back to the rest of the room, as I usually did, and pretended to ignore them, continuing to rinse off. Whoever it was, they were only about six or seven feet away from me. I shut off my tap, reached for my towel, and glanced over. There was Tim. Even without my contacts, I could see his body was pale white, skinny as a rail, and he had very little body hair. Tim was dripping wet, sporting a large erection, and was looking directly at me.

"Oh, uh..." I stammered. "Hi, Tim."

"Hi, Wil," he murmured. He reached down towards his groin and began fondling himself. "I'm really glad we could be here like this. Alone."

"Tim," I said, nervously, looking towards the door, "please, don't do this. We're gonna get caught."

"Oh, Wil," he moaned, as he began to slide his hand up and down his shaft, "I love how big you are. I've thought of this for a long time. Please... I wish you'd just let me touch you."

I stared at him. His erection was bright red, in comparison to his pallid chest and stomach. He began stroking faster, his soapy fist moving in a blur. I grabbed my towel and hurried out.

"Sorry, Tim," I called as I quickly walked by him. "I... I gotta go."

Tim began groaning louder, and I knew he was within moments of an impending orgasm. I left the shower room and hurried down the hall. Just as I reached the corner that led back to the lockers, six naked football players passed me by. Oh, shit, I thought. There's no way to warn Tim. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer, then continued to walk over to my clothes locker. Just as I spun my combination lock open, I heard a commotion in the background.

"Holy shit!" yelled the voice. "This queer just jacked-off in the shower!" Suddenly, there was a jumble of talking and yelling, along with a lot of laughter and hoots of derision. My heart froze.

I looked up. Chuck, the assistant manager, ran out in the locker room to see what all the fuss was about. Just as our eyes met, we heard a blood-curdling scream like a girl's, off to the left. We turned just as the football players burst down the hallway, each wearing towels, and dragging with them a nude, wriggling, and soaking-wet body, who was crying and screaming at the top of his lungs.

It was Tim, who was out of his mind with shame and terror. I could see a trickle of blood coming from his nose, and his right eye was already bruised and shut.

"I'm so sorry," he moaned, "please, don't do this to me!"

"You fuckin' faggot!" yelled Ben Kingston, the biggest of the football goons. "We don't need queers like you, beatin' your meat in the shower! You belong in the trash!"

Tim's eyes looked around frantically, like a captured wild animal. He stared straight towards me. "NO!" he screamed. "Help me, please!"

With that, three of the guys hoisted Tim up on their shoulders and dragged him from the room, kicking and screaming. Chuck made a move as if to stop them, but Ben put his hand on the fat boy's chest.

"Stay where you are, Chuckles," the linebacker growled. "And if you call the Coach on us, I'll tell him about some of your little shenanigans. You know what I'm talkin' about."

I stayed close to my locker and tried to stay as invisible as I could.

"And you, Larson!" he called.

"I'm not really here," I said, looking down at the floor.

Ben smiled. "You get the idea. Thanks, Wil!" he yelled, and took off with the others.

Chuck and I looked at each other for a moment, then he slowly waddled back to his cramped little office. In the distance, I heard Tim's muffled cries. He sounded desperate, pleading for his life. Then I heard a loud metallic crash. It sounded like they'd thrown him into the Dempster Dumpster and locked him inside.

I felt a lump in my throat, but I knew there was nothing I could do. A minute later, the football players burst back through the door, laughing and congratulating each other, then walked down the hall and returned to the shower. I finished getting dressed and putting in my contacts, grabbed my gym bag and notebook, and walked towards the exit door. Chuck was looking outside his little cubicle, with a frightened look on his face.

"Chuck, I..." I started to say.

"Don't worry, Wil," he said, quietly. "I'll take Tim his clothes in a few minutes and let him out. Just go home and forget about it."

We gave each other a grim nod, and I turned to leave. Just as I got to the door, Ben walked up and put his hand on the knob to stop me. He was dripping wet, with a towel around his waist.

"Hey, Wil," he said.

"Ben."

"Listen, man," he said, looking me right in the eye. "You know how it is. We can't have fuckin' fags like that here in the school. Those guys are perverted, man. We were just takin' out the trash."

I stared at him, my heart racing. I prayed that I had the guts to just punch the shit out of him, but my hands stayed right where they were.

"Tim deserves what he gets, man," the hulking athlete continued. "Don't talk about this to nobody."

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "Look, I, uh... I gotta get home."

"Sure, Mr. Hero!" Ben grinned and opened the door. "Thanks for savin' our center the other day, Wil. We can't afford to lose Sky -- we need him for next season!" He clapped me on the back and gave me a thumbs up.

I nodded and walked outside. Over on the far left, I could hear someone crying and banging from the inside of the dumpster. Fighting back my tears, I kept on walking and didn't stop until I made it all the way home to the safety of my room.

Tim didn't return to school the next day, or the day after that. On Friday, I stayed after my 6th period Chorus class and caught the eye of Mr. Guccino, the choir director. "Can I see you for a minute?" I asked him.

"Sure, Wil," he said, opening his door. "Come into my office."

We sat down in the crowded room, which had shelves bulging with sheets of music paper, file drawers, and a dozen award certificates, trophies, and plaques on the wall.

"What can I do for you, Wil?" he asked.

I gathered up my courage. "I, uh... I hadn't seen Tim McMannis in awhile, and I was wondering what happened to him."

The teacher's face darkened. "Tim had... an unfortunate incident the other day, Wil," he explained. "His parents asked that we release him from Tampa Central, and he's transferring over to Robinson High across town."

"Is he... is Tim okay?" I asked.

He nodded. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened, do you Wil?" he asked, suspiciously.

"No, no, I swear," I said, probably much too quickly. "I mean, Tim's sort of a friend of mind. I'd never do anything to hurt him."

Mr. Guccino eyed me. "Wil, I think it's important for you students to understand something. We've all got to live on the same planet. You jocks have to learn to be more tolerant of people who are... who're different than young men like you."

Actually, not that different from me at all, I thought.

I nodded. "I know, Mr. Guccino," I said, standing up. "Look, if you should talk to Tim, tell him... tell him we'll miss him." I was anxious to get out of the room all of a sudden. I feared if the teacher really took a good look at my face, he'd know the whole story.

"Okay, Wil," he said. "Listen, you can talk to me anytime if you ever have a problem."

I thanked him and ran down the hall to Phys Ed. For the rest of the day, I felt totally depressed and helpless. If this is what happens to guys like Tim, I thought, then there's no way that me and Sky could ever... I stopped myself, afraid to finish the thought.

The following weekend, Sky's folks invited me out for brunch at the Davis Island Marina on Sunday morning. Sky was walking on his own steam now, but he still had a little white patch on his leg where the buoy had ripped open the skin. We had a great table overlooking the harbor, and I gazed outside through the window at the myriad of sailboats and pleasure craft below.

During our meal, Sky's parents were amused that I'd insisted on ordering a cheeseburger for lunch. I just couldn't stand fish.

"Wil," said Dr. Jones, "you really should try this broiled trout. It's delicious!" Mrs. Jones nodded in agreement.

"I never could stand seafood, Dr. Jones," I said, putting another pickle on my burger. "Maybe fish-sticks or fried shrimp, but that's about it."

Mrs. Jones laughed. "Wil, you live in one of the best cities in Florida for seafood! You're missing out on some really great eating."

"Mom, Wil's just stubborn about some things," explained Sky. "He knows what he wants, and he just sticks with it."

He shot me a glance and grinned. Sky knew me too well, but I wasn't sure exactly what point he was trying to make. We finished our meal, and walked over to Sky's father's Cadillac.

"Son," said Dr. Jones, "your mother and I are going over to the club for her tennis lessons at 2PM. You and Wil can have the boat until 5:00, but make sure you're back by then. I don't want you boys out after sunset. And stay out of that water with that leg, Sky. Call me immediately if there's any problem."

"I will, Dad," he said. Thanks!"

Once again, we were out in Tampa Bay. It was windy, and the ship was a magnificent sight as it swept under the Davis Island Bridge. We were moving in a generally southwest direction. I could see the water ahead was dotted with other cabin cruisers, sailboats, and speedboats, along with one or two courageous skiers.

"Where do you wanna go today, Wil?" asked Sky, as he turned the wheel and peered through the helm window.

"Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning," I said, grinning.

Sky gave me a quizzical look.

"To Never-Neverland, asshole!" I laughed.

Finally, I saw a spark of recognition in his eyes and he smiled. "I get it," he said, "Is that who you think you are -- Peter Pan?"

I sighed, and looked at Sky. He had taken off his shirt, and wore just a skimpy pair of denim shorts, as I did. The sun caught him from behind, and it made his shaggy blond hair almost look like it was on fire.

I walked towards him and leaned on the rail. "No, Sky," I said, quietly. "I think you're Peter Pan. I'm just one of the Lost Boys."

He rolled his eyes and laughed. "You read too much of that fantasy shit," he said, locking off the wheel and jumping down to the deck.

"Hey," I said, following him. "Don't knock fantasy unless you've tried it."

Suddenly, a wave came up and the boat tipped sharply to port. I tripped and started to fall, and Sky caught me in his arms. He pulled me back to my feet, and I noticed his hands were shaking.

"Thanks, man," I said. "Jesus, I could've fallen right on my stupid face."

"Yeah," he muttered. "I gotta go downstairs and check the map." He seemed bothered by something, but I let it pass. Probably still thinking about Melissa again.

An hour later, we'd made it out of Old Tampa Bay, but Sky was puzzled.

"I don't get it," he said, angrily. "I know how to read this fuckin' map, but it says we should be at Ross Island by now. We passed Gandy Bridge fifteen minutes ago."

"Let me see the map," I said. "Maybe I can figure it out."

"Who the fuck is the captain here?" he snapped. "You don't know anything about this shit!"

I was a little stunned. "Sky, I'm not saying I know any more than you," I replied quietly. "I'm just trying to help, man."

"You can help by shutting the fuck up!" he said. "I'll find this goddamned place, even if I have to call the Coast Guard."

He climbed the ladder up to the helm and angrily spun the steering wheel back around and gunned the engine. The winds had died by now, and the currents were pretty still.

I got up and eased my way down the starboard side of the ship, leaning on the railing as I walked down the narrow ledge all the way out to the bow. I held on and looked out. The land looked a long way away, at least five miles, I thought. Maybe his compass was screwed-up or something.

A couple of minutes later, the boat took a sudden lurch, then veered sharply to the left. I nearly slipped, but grabbed hold of the railing to steady myself. "Hey!" I yelled. "What're you doing?"

Suddenly, we stopped dead in the water, the engine died, and I fell to the deck.

"FUCK!" Sky screamed from the back of the ship. "Now we're fuckin' grounded!"

I picked myself up and trotted back over the ledge to the tower. Sky's face was filled with rage. He pounded the steering wheel over and over.

"FUCK!" he yelled again. "The goddamned map said the sand bar was at least 700 feet over there!"

We seemed to be locked tight. "You want me to get out and push?" I asked, trying to make a joke.

"The boat weighs sixteen tons, you fuckin' idiot!" he yelled.

This just wasn't like him, I thought. I slowly climbed up the steps to the helm. "Sky," I said, gently. "Don't go nuts. It's not a big deal, it's just low tide. We'll just wait for high tide to come in, and we'll float free."

He jumped down away from me onto the rear deck. Sky was practically shaking with anger. "This is all my fault!" he wailed. "I never should've come out here today. I don't even know why I'm here!"

Suddenly, he burst into tears. "Get away from me, Wil," he said, running down the steps to the lower cabin.

I was flabbergasted. What the hell was going on here? I heard him sobbing down below. This couldn't be about me, I thought. He's just freaked-out that his father would take away his boat privileges or something. Slowly, I went down the wooden steps to the cabin below. Sky was lying on his stomach over on the fold-out cot, crying his eyes out. Jesus, I thought. Maybe it's the pain-killers he's been taking for his leg or something.

I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed and put my hand on his shoulder. "Hey, " I said, soothingly. "Don't worry. Your father won't get mad. I swear, it's not a big deal."

After a few moments, he stopped crying and turned to me. "No. I don't care about that. I'm just... still really sorry for what I did to you. I was such an asshole."

I thought for a moment. "Today?"

He shook his head. "You know what I mean," he said, quietly.

Oh, shit. "Sky, I told you, that's all forgotten," I said. "I already apologized, you apologized -- that was almost four months ago! It's over with."

"Wil," he said, slowly sitting up and wiping his face. "I've... I've thought about you a lot ever since it happened. I dunno, it's like... whenever I'm down, if I just think of you for a moment, I feel better."

I smiled. "Yeah," I said, quietly. "I guess that's what friends are for."

Sky reached out his hand and touched my shoulder. "You've done so much for me. It took me this long to realize how much you lo..." He choked on the word. "...you... lov..." He was shaking, and tears began streaming down his face again.

"Shut up," I said, as I leaned forward and kissed him. This time, he didn't push me away. We held the kiss for a good thirty seconds. I felt his breath on my face, smelled his body, the scent of the ocean in his hair. He put his hand on my chest and gently squeezed me, and I moaned.

"Fuck, Wil," he said at last, as our lips finally parted.

I laughed. "Well, we could do that if you really wanted to," I said, "but a blow job would probably be a lot easier."

Sky grinned, then wiped some of the tears off his face. "How long would you guess we're gonna be stuck here?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and grinned. "I hope at least 20 minutes."

"Make it half an hour," he said.

We tugged off our shorts and let our erections spring free. "God, Wil," he said, breathlessly, kissing my chest, then my stomach. "I've thought about you every night for the last three weeks, man."

I caressed the back of his head. "Sky, you could've told me sooner," I said.

He hesitated, then stepped off the bed onto the floor, and reached for my groin. My arousal throbbed in his hands, as if it was a fresh catch he'd just snatched out of the ocean.

I moaned. "You don't have to do this, Sky," I whispered, leaning forward. "I'll do it for you, like... like before."

He shook his head. "I know this is the point of no return," he said, trembling as he inched me closer to his lips. "But I don't care anymore. All I want is for you to be happy."

I felt a sudden warmth envelop me, and I fell back to the bed with a groan. "Oh, GOD," I croaked.

For his first time, Sky was an expert. I only had to tell him once to watch the teeth. He was no Ronnie, but he did the best he could.

I was filled with such passion, I couldn't hold back more than a minute. Sweat trickled down from my arms and chest, I panted, and my heart pounded like thunder.

"Sky!" I whispered, almost delirious. "This is it."

He took his mouth off me and gently stroked me with both hands. I exploded all over the walls, the porthole, and a glob even hit the low ceiling, right next to the interior light. After a moment to catch my breath, I pulled him to me and kissed him again, roughly, our tongues intermingling.

"How was I?" he whispered.

I nodded. "Very good," I wheezed. "Unbelievable, as a matter of fact."

"I'll have to kinda... work my way into swallowing," he said, embarrassedly.

I grinned and caught my breath. "Yeah. It's kind of an acquired taste."

We both laughed.

"So was I okay?" he asked.

"Better than okay," I said, sighing.

"But not as good as Ronnie, right?"

I blanched. "How did you..." I started.

Sky rolled his eyes and laughed. "Come on, man," he said. "It's ME. I know the two Lannigan fags were doin' stuff for you."

I stiffened. "Don't call 'em that, asshole," I said, icily.

Sky nodded, immediately apologetic. "I guess I'm a cocksucker now, too, right?" He smiled weakly. "Does that make me a fag?"

I thought about what RJ had told me before New Year's. "Maybe labels are wrong, Sky," I said. "Maybe stuff like 'heterosexual' and 'homosexual' doesn't really cover all the shades of gray."

"So, you're saying maybe I'm only 2% fag," he grinned. "Like 2% skim milk."

I pulled him close and kissed him again. "You know what I think, Sky?" I said. "I think under the right circumstances, anybody can have sex with anybody."

Sky thought for a minute. "How 'bout with Chuck?" We both laughed.

"Actually," I said, "the idea's not that impossible. You know about Scott Michaels?"

"You mean about the time he tried to, uh... do it to you in the gym?"

I nodded. "I never told you the rest of the story."

I gave him the gory details, up to and including how Scott's stepfather had been boning him for years.

Sky sat on the edge of the cot. "Holy shit," he whispered. "Nobody else knows about this. Now I understand why you didn't want me and the guys to beat him up."

I nodded. "I think Scott's another guy who's not 100% one way or the other. Even if he's 60/40, who cares? That's his business."

Sky looked at me. "What about you, Wil? You're not... 100% one way or the other."

I smiled and pulled him closer and kissed him again. "I know 100% of me has loved you all my life. Let me show you."

I pushed him back on the bed and kissed his neck, while my hands moved downwards to his groin. I deliberately avoided touching his arousal; instead, I gently massaged his thighs and then moved to his balls, lightly squeezing them and rolling them around in my fingers. I let my tongue move further down, licking in the deep ridge between his pectoral muscles, then traced the outline of his chest. I suckled his left nipple and pulled it up with my mouth, then gently bit it with my front teeth and tickled the hairs. He moaned with delight.

I let my tongue continue across to his underarm, and carefully licked the entire area, tasting his sweet sweat through the thatch of blond hair. I held his strong arm in my hand and kissed it, then ran my lips along the bulging veins and muscles. I returned to his face and inhaled his tongue, and he moaned again. I moved my mouth back to his chest and slowly licked downwards as I slid off the bed and onto the hardwood floor. Finally on my knees, I leaned up and let my tongue circle his belly-button, lightly flicking through the thickening blond thatch of hairs on his stomach. I reached up with my left hand and grabbed his iron-hard erection, which felt hot to the touch. It throbbed in my hand.

"Oh, god, Wil," he begged, "oh, please, please suck me!"

I continued drawing it out as long as I could, letting my tongue lap softly on top of the underside of his arousal, then circled the head and lightly tickled the top side. I lapped in the ridge just under his head, exploring every line and indentation I could find. I continued for almost a minute, then went even lower, kissing his sac and inhaling his jewels into my mouth, one at a time. I went below his balls to a soft, light blond thatch of hairs circling a light red puckering bud. "Here goes nothing," I thought. I plunged forward and darted my tongue inside as deeply as I could. It was clean, and tasted a little salty and sweet, just like the rest of him.

He began to thrust and moan uncontrollably.

"Wil..." his voice was a whisper now, "please... I-I... beg you..."

When I knew he couldn't stand it any longer, I worked my hands back up his chest and massaged his pecs, lightly tweaking his nipples and gently stroking his body. I took his engorged cock deep in my mouth in two gulps, letting it tickle the back of my throat. He cried out as I gently sucked and pulled on it. In less than 30 seconds, it was over.

Sky lay on his back, his muscular chest heaving and sweating. I fell beside him on the cot, and he turned his head and gently kissed me.

"Ga-ROSS!" he sputtered, laughing.

"What?" I said.

"That's the first time I've tasted my... my... you know." He made a wry face.

I looked at him. There was a little white glob on the right corner of his mouth, and he was turning bright red! I laughed and wiped my face and his. "Yeah. I guess things get messy sometimes."

He grinned at me. "I don't mind," he said. "As long as it's you."

"Okay," I laughed. "Next time, you swallow."

"You're assuming I can get that thing in again!" he laughed. "I could barely fit a third of it into my mouth as it was."

I was just about to tell him he could call Ronnie in Texas and ask him for tips on his technique when a loud air horn sounded.

"AHOY!" yelled a voice from a loudspeaker outside. "Ahoy, ship in distress! This is the U.S. Coast Guard!"

"OH, SHIT!" we both yelled, as we frantically yanked on our shorts and ran back up the steps.

It turned out we were about 7 miles off course. Apparently, Sky had misread the compass just enough that we'd missed a crucial turn in a waterway. The Coast Guard guys were nice enough to call Sky's folks and tell them we were going to be about an hour late, but not to worry.

It was 5:30 by the time we were back on the way back to the Marina. Sky and I stood side by side up on the top deck. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other around my shoulders.

"I can't get over how good this feels," he sighed.

I nodded.

Sky looked at me. "I guess this means we're gay," he said. "I swear, Wil, I've never been turned on by a guy in my life. I mean, I might've occasionally looked at some of the guys in the shower, just to check 'em out or somethin', but I mean, it doesn't affect me at all."

I reached over and put my hand on top of his on the steering wheel. He grinned at me.

"But with you," he sighed. "I dunno. It's like... It doesn't matter to me that you're a guy anymore. I guess I... shit."

Sky turned to me. He was shaking slightly. "I love you, Wil," he said, softly.

"Me, too," I said. I kissed him, and he kissed me back.

He turned and looked through the window. "So we're a couple of fags, I guess," he said, quietly.

"Look," I said. "I read an article in Playboy a few months ago. It said that sex doesn't necessarily have to be an 'either/or' proposition. Maybe it's okay to have sex with anybody you want."

"I thought all you read was Scientific American," he said, laughing.

"Hey," I said. "Who says you can't love me and Melissa both? Maybe you get something different from each of us."

His expression changed. "Me and Melissa have been havin' a lotta fights lately," he explained. "I used to think I loved her, but I dunno. It's... it's been different lately."

I stared out into the surf and watched the waves crash by a nearby bridge. "I think you should keep seeing her," I said, quietly.

"For what?" he asked. "So we can fight some more? So she can refuse to do anything for me because 'it's against the Bible.'" He made a face as he sarcastically imitated her voice.

A plan was beginning to form in my head. "Listen, Sky," I said, quietly. "We gotta be careful at school, you know? If you suddenly stop seeing Melissa and just start hanging out with me, it could be... well, it could look bad. That's the kind of shit that gets people beat up."

"Yeah," he said. "I heard about that guy in the shower at school the other day. 'Tim the Fag,' right?"

I shuddered at the memory, and again cursed myself for not being able to stop it. "Something like that," I muttered.

"So you're sayin' you'll keep goin' out with Ginny, and I'll go out with Melissa, and..."

"...and we can still see each other on weekends," I finished for him.

He grinned and nuzzled my ear. "I think that'll work," he whispered.

It had better, I thought, as he kissed my neck, passionately.

"Shit, Sky, WATCH OUT!" I yelled.

We were headed right towards a giant concrete pylon supporting the middle section of the Gandy Bridge.

"FUCK! Hard a-port!" he yelled, and spun the wheel to one side while throttling back on one of the controls.

We missed it by inches. As we slowly went under the bridge, I could see all kinds of weird barnacles and bits of sea life crawling over the concrete post's smooth gray surface. Somebody had scrawled "Jimmy Loves Mary-Anne" in black paint on the post's left side. Just as we had almost cleared the bridge, I felt a small thud from the back of the boat.

"You hold it steady, Wil," he called out, jumping off the helm to run to the back. "I gotta go check and see if we cracked the aft hull."

"Aye-aye, sir," I saluted.

We were real lucky. The tail end of the ship had barely grazed the post, but it didn't seem to do much damage. Sky said he'd tell his father it must've happened when we ran aground.

As we pulled into the Marina, I mulled over our adventures of the past week. That was two incidents 'over water.' Pete had never said there'd be more than one. I shook my head and decided he didn't know what he was talking about. Nobody could know the future, I thought. That's totally illogical.

Sky expertly pulled the boat up to the dock, then looked down and put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a gentle squeeze. I looked back up and put my hand on his hand and grinned. I was happier than I'd been in my entire life.
 
 
 

© 2001, John Francis