That Summer

You can preface it with a statement: This story is for adults who can legally read erotic stories about gay male sexuality. It is fictional and it's author supports safe sex. Comments to MisterAllen20@aol.com

That Summer

by Allen Mac

That summer, I was high on life. It was the summer of 2003. My most recent victory was graduating from high school with honors. My two brothers and two sisters and I had lived a nomadic existence since my Dad is a navy officer and we moved around an awful lot. It just so happened that I ended up attending three different high schools in four years. Mom and Dad were pleased that I managed to graduate with very good grades and get accepted to Boston University for my freshman year. Since I was in such good graces on the home front, I wanted this summer to be memorable and knew my parents would give me the freedom to do just that.

My high school senior year and graduation just so happened to be in Boston, which just so happened to be the City where my dad, aunts and uncles and even my paternal grandparents were born and raised. Mom was born and raised in Montreal and met Dad at Boston College. They got married in the chapel there right after graduation. So, even though I'm a military brat, having lived on and off navy bases on both coasts, and was actually born in Montreal, my family, as well as myself, consider Boston to be our hometown.

My name is Allen. I'm 21 now as I tell this story and reflect on my life over the last two plus years and how, in fact, that summer did change my life. I've been told that I'm a nice looking guy. I'm 6 ft, 175lbs, black hair, brown eyes and I'm in pretty good shape. I've got great legs and a nice butt because my hobbies are diving, running and cycling. Since I'm telling this story and it's about sex and coming out, I guess I've got to tell you about my dick. It is seven inches long, nice and thick and stays hard all the time, or it least it seems that way sometimes

While I'm an outgoing, masculine acting guy, some people think I'm a little nerdy because I have a passion for reading and love to write and I'm not into traditional sports. I think of myself as just an ordinary guy. I love classical music. I love to go to Red Sox games but I enjoy the food and camaraderie more than the game. I spend way too much time on the Internet and almost never in front of a television. I love to tinker with boats and love to fish and I have a lot of experience with both. I love to snorkel and dive and, because of that, my favorite place is the Florida Keys and the Bahamas. I love to run but I hate track and I love long distance bike trips.

I also love to party! I enjoy getting stoned once in awhile but I'm not really a pothead. I smoked my first joint with my brother Larry at Disneyworld, he was 17 and I was 13. I don't do any other drugs. I like to drink but I don't like getting drunk. I like hanging with my buds, and, like most guys my age, I'm always trying to have sex. I just don't seem to be able get, talk and think about it enough.

I still haven't grown out of getting a hard-on all the time. I like not wearing underwear, especially under my jeans but it can get me into trouble or at a minimum get me embarrassed. Not long ago Mom and I visited Trinity Church in Copley Square, a grand 200 hundred year old Episcopal Cathedral, and it gave me a ragging hard-on. I never know when it's going to happen.

Getting back to my story, the only part about high school I didn't like was sex. Well, sex was good, but it was the pressure I felt coming from my friends about sex that I didn't like. I knew I liked guys, but there was always an expectation that I would have sex with lots of girls and report on the experience to all my buds. So I dated girls and tried to enjoy fooling around with them. Consequently, I always exaggerated my experiences, to the approval of my friends. I was attracted to a lot of different guys, but sex with guys was limited to mutual exploration with my brothers Jason and Larry or riding my bike along the Charles River and going into a wooded area near Harvard University to get sucked off by older guys. A few times one of my friends and I fooled around after we got stoned and had the excuse of enjoying sex and blaming it on the pot and the unavailability of girls.

That fateful summer, my grandfather got me the best summer job possible down at the marina in Quincy. He was a minor partner/investor in the marina and he also kept his boat there. The City of Quincy is just south of Boston and is the hometown of President John Adams. It's classified as a city but there isn't much city there except for the historical sites and great access to Boston Harbor. It was great fun working there because I loved marinas and boats and almost everyone on the summer staff was my age. I was assigned to dock staff which means I was a step-and-fetcher. We helped boaters gas up, docking boats, minor repairs, washing, cleaning and just doing whatever we could to get tips since we were working for minimum wage.

The boys were hot, horny, shirtless and always in shorts and the girls were putting out ... at least that was what the straight guys were all saying. Like most guys, I was constantly hard but the difference was I wasn't interested in the girls. When my parents would let me, which was often, I would hang around after working hours and sleep on Gramps' boat. At first, I'd be jacking off on the boat and in the boy's room and in the marina's open shower room every chance I got, trying to figure out just what hot guys were gay and which weren't. I spent a lot of time taking showers and checking everybody out. It took a week, but I finally hooked up with a guy named Brad. You might not be surprised when I tell you I met him in the shower room. Well, not really in the shower room, we actually were coworkers on the dock. I was taking a shower one day, at least my second for the day, and getting a hard-on when Brad just walked up to me, grabbed my dick and said, "we need to smoke a joint together soon."

He was a cutie, athletic, a little taller and bigger than me. He was an extroverted 19 year old African American with a big bone that was always so hard it looked like it was attached to his stomach, and a bubble butt that made even the straight boys cream. He was always the funniest guy in the group and no matter who you were, if you remembered anybody you met that day, you remembered Brad. He always had a joint and was always inviting guys to smoke, which was his code for "let's smoke a joint and I'll suck your dick." Brad liked getting fucked and he was my first. It was such a great feeling that after a three minute break, I had to do it again, which was fine with Brad.

Brad's only problem was that he liked everybody and wanted to have sex with every 18-25 year old guy in the greater Boston area. He would talk about who he was going to have sex with next, even while he was having sex with me. My ego might have been bruised, but he sucked dick like a wild man and would cum sometimes twice without even touching his own dick. I didn't know if he was a good fuck, because he was my only experience but I did know it was hot. His pants went down to his ankles at the push of some magical button hidden somewhere on his body, and he never wore underwear. I had never met anyone like this him and it was exciting.

Brad was also going to BU in the fall. I was overjoyed when he told me, and I knew he would be a friend for a long time. We even talked about being roommates in the fall. But, without saying anything to him, I felt like I'd flunk out first semester with all that distraction in the room. Still it would be fun. We talked about going diving in Key West during Spring Break Brad told me I could do the diving but he had other plans for Key West.

He was the bud I always wanted, but he was just a little too `out there' for me and not what I wanted in a sexual partner. Coming out of the closet is one thing, but with Brad it was a sprint into the Super Bowl halftime. We could never be boyfriends, but he was a magnet and led me to other guys ... hot guys and hot sex.

I met Tom, 18 yrs old, 5'6" 140 lbs blond hair, blue eyes. He had such a big uncut dick for such a small guy that it looked like it should be on another guy's body. He was a little guy, but all guy, and loved to fuck. I lost my anal virginity with him. At first, I though he was killing me. I wondered how I would explain myself in the Emergency Room at Mass General Hospital. I should have chosen a smaller dick for my first experience, but then I got into it and Tom's big cock on my prostate made me shoot the most intense load I ever had.

My inventory of sexual experience was mounting like a tidal wave. It was only mid June and I had fucked a guy and been fucked by another. I had, in two weeks, touched more hard dicks than I had in my entire life, and I had had group sex with five guys. You guessed it, where else but in the marina shower room. I wasn't sure this was what Gramps' and Mom and Dad had in mind when I got this job, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. The greatest experience for me was having sex with boys I could also work with and eat with and be buds with and just be normal and open and happy to be gay. Even the straight staff was ok with the gay staff, and two of the guys I had fooled around with were on the straight team. I started to wonder why anyone wouldn't want to be gay? Brad, Tom and I were working as a team.

The day after the Fourth of July, I went from being happy to being happier because that was the day I met Marty Jones. It was peak season and we were all real busy; but, no matter how busy a marina got, a beautiful yacht coming into dock got everyone's attention. The entire marina came to a halt as always happens on such occasions. Tom and Brad were on the scene to secure the boat. The yacht was scheduled to just pull right straight along Dock D and there were no significant cross winds, so docking it was going to be real easy.

I spotted a guy my age up on the yacht deck throwing the line to Brad. He was a little slow with the lines. Everyone but everyone could hear his dad, the Captain, yelling at him and calling him a dumb fuck and to move his fucking dumb ass. The boat was in no danger, but the Captain sounded like he was in a rage. The kid was obviously embarrassed, especially when he looked out over the audience that was listening to all of this cussing and stuff. Brad, Tom and I knew instantly we had another rich asshole with a big boat on our hands. After throwing a bow line, running quickly for the next and being rescued by his Mom's obvious skill, the poor guy disappeared below deck. I'm sure he hid under his rack; I know I would have. Finally, with the boat secure and the fenders in place, the Captain cut the engines came out on deck and jumped over to inspect Tom and Brad's work. Anybody could tell this big guy with huge hands was accustomed to being in charge. I was the scheduler that day, so I ran down and stuck my hand out and welcomed Captain Jones to Boston. I told him we were expecting him, had made arrangements for water today and gas the night before he left. I then escorted him to the office to meet the Dock Master. He was going to be in town for two weeks.

The yacht was a beauty. I recognized it right away as an Alden, built 60 miles down the road in Portsmouth Rhode Island. She was 50' with a 15' beam with two twin 600hp engines. She held 600 gallons of fuel and 200 gallons of water. This baby was expensive! She was called "Her Honor" and her designation was Washington DC.

Following the Captain back to the dock, I got invited to come on board. It wasn't my first time on one of these beauties but I was still in awe. I met Mrs. Jones and Angela, nine or ten years old, and then I got to shake hands with Marty, the kid I saw on deck earlier. He wasn't smiling [[or anything]], nor would he look me in the eye, but he was still the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. He was so pretty that I was having a hard time with the small talk. I know "pretty" is not the right term for a guy, but believe me, he was pretty. Not a sissy, just pretty, like the boys in the underwear ads in the Sunday Boston Globe. When I was a kid I use to think that if I went downtown to Macy's on Monday morning I would see them there selling underwear in their underwear, but that was a long time ago and a different story.

I was guessing that Marty was like 17 or 18. Along with beautiful blue eyes and that face, he had long curly blond hair. He looked like he was in shape but not athletic, about 5'10" and maybe 160 lbs. I could see his nice butt in his shorts and I think that I may have seen the faint outline of his dick in his shorts, but that may have been my imagination. I certainly stared enough. Later, Brad said that Mart looked like "money," which is kind of a put down like that he was too preppy looking for him, but I didn't think so.

All I could think of standing next to him was that I wanted to touch him. I was feeling a little ratty. The day's work was chronicled on my shorts and T-shirt. I needed a shower big time and of course I was getting a little hard, but hopefully not showing. Marty looked perfect except maybe his face was still a little red because he was still embarrassed at his dad's yelling at him in public, or maybe he knew that I had been there to witness his embarrassment. Anyway, Captain Jones seemed pleased with our services and gave me a big tip to share with Tom and Brad. I was trying to find a reason to hang around a little and get to know this boy, but I found none. I was beginning to feel dismissed, so I left, but not before I managed a wink to Marty and shook everyone hands again. I don't know if he noticed.

That night Tom and Brad and I had dinner at one of the marina's three restaurants, and of course we talked about Marty. Afterward, we went down to Gramps' boat to smoke a joint. Brad mentioned that we needed to smoke a joint with Marty. I knew what he meant, but I had other plans. The guys wanted to go into town. I had a fake ID, but I didn't want to go. I called home and told Mom I would spend the night on Gramps' boat so not to worry, that I wanted to get up early in the morning and hustle tips from the early morning fisherman helping them load their boats for the day.

It was a nice night and still early, but I just felt like going to bed and being alone. Actually, I wanted to think about Marty. I couldn't get him out of my mind. As I lay there on my bed listening to the water lapping up against Gramps' boat and Mother Nature rocking me to sleep, I could feel my dick getting hard. I didn't need an excuse to jack off, and I did it every night, but this time it felt different. I didn't want to shoot a quick load as usual, but rather to rub my dick slowly while in my mind I was taking Marty's clothes off, gazing at his beauty, laying him down on my bed and very gently placing my naked body over his.

My fantasy had me looking into his face and when our eyes connected I could see the lust in his. I kissed his lips gently, then my tongue entered the warmth of his mouth and we kiss passionately. His taste and smell were driving me crazy, the scent and taste of a boy. I had finally met my childhood fantasy of the boys in the Globe's underwear ads!

I lay on top of him and began to run my tongue all over, down to his very hard quarter-sized nipples. I felt his hard dick on my stomach and reached out for it and held it in my hand. It felt for a quick second that both our hearts stopped beating!

I needed to taste it. I couldn't wait another minute, so I move down and gazed in wonder at his awesome cock. It was seven inches like my own, but uncut. I kissed his hard dick over and over again, getting my tongue between his foreskin and the head of his throbbing cock. I began to lick the head; and then, as if in a trance, I found myself swallowing his beautiful cock down my throat.

Marty began to trash about. I wanted his cum so bad but not before I got to taste more of him. I took his balls in my mouth and began to lick under them and into his crotch. I lifted his legs a bit, wanting a taste of his boy pucker. He moaned and begged me to suck his cock and make him cum, so I obliged, and my mouth was quickly filled with his juices. Spurt after spurt of his cum shot out of his dick as I tried to hang on to get all of it. My own dick shot a huge load at same time. After catching my breath, I took my own cum and put it on his stomach and dick and began to lick it off his now-spent body. Then, we kissed, our mixed cum still on my lips and tongue. With Marty's naked body in my arms, we slept peacefully.

When I woke up, I had the taste of cum in my mouth. I quickly realized I was alone. It was my own cum that I could taste. I guess at some point I must have dipped into the pools of cum on my stomach and sucked. It was only 5:00 AM, but I had to get up. I wanted to catch a quick shower, and of course jack off and get out on the docks and earn some money. I knew I'd be alone in the shower room. Jacking off in the morning is to me what a cup of coffee is to my dad. It sets my mood for the day. If I skip it, everything seems wrong. I walked by the Jones yacht and wondered if Marty was in his bunk just a few feet from me, covered in cum after dreaming about me. I started to laugh at myself for the high drama. I though that before the day was over I either needed to get laid or take a five mile run.

The day got real hectic, but now Pier D became the center of my universe. I saw Captain and Mrs. Jones and little Angela leave the marina in a cab. Then, by mid afternoon I was helping a boater gas up and saw Marty walking toward me.

"Hi Allen," he said. Awesome, I thought, he remembered my name.

"Hey Marty! What's up dude?" I retorted in my best indifferent "dude" kind of voice.

"So," he said, "guess my dad likes you."

Shit! That's not good. I panicked in my head. So, with a nanosecond to think over my response, I just came back with, "Well Marty, I guess I like you."

That was fucked! No, it was just the prefect thing to say. It made him laugh. It made me laugh in relief. I wanted him, not his Dad. As I worked, we talked a lot about boats and the marina, which is pretty big with over 600 slips, and I described the life of a professional dock slave. We laughed.

I'm pretty good at breaking the ice because I talk a lot and say a lot of stupid funny stuff on purpose. We talked about safe stuff, school, music--I didn't tell him about classical music, movies, sports, running--he ran on his schools track team--and of course we talked about diving. We both had dived in the Bahamas and in Hawaii but he had never been to the Keys' Reef.

He hung around with me the rest of the afternoon and even helped. I offered to share a few of my tips with him but he refused, kept laughing at me and telling me I was a nut. I like people thinking I'm weird. Weird is fun...at least my kind of weird is fun. We touched but in the way that teen guys touch their buds.

It was 6:00 pm by now, and I had made plans to run with Brad and Tom. I asked Marty to join us. He was a better runner than me and I spent most of the time running behind him, which from my perspective had its advantages. I couldn't wait for the run to be over because I knew there was a good chance I would see him naked. I just needed to casually talk him into showering in the marina showers and not on his boat. It was an easy sell. Brad and Bill said nothing but I could see their wise ass grins.

His parents were in Siro's eating pasta. While Mart went back for some clean shorts and T-shirt, I spoke with his Dad. He seemed ok with the fact that Marty and I were hanging together. Mrs. Jones smiled a lot but didn't have much to say to me. In fact, she had nothing to say. I told his Dad that we had plans to get something to eat and hang out even though we really didn't. I'm just a take charge kind of guy! When Mart got back and interacted with his parents, no one touched. I called Mom and she sarcastically wanted to know if I had plans to ever come home and see them again or to change my clothes. I said something about "economic necessity" and that I borrowing shorts from my friend Brad and had bought new. She laughed and was soon off the phone. I had covered that base well. She was fine as she always was.

My timing was perfect. By the time Marty and I got to the shower room, Tom and Brad were finished and drying off. I watched Marty to see if he would look at their dicks, and I caught him. He looked at me real quick and blushed. I pulled off my shorts and went to a shower head. He did the same.

By now, no one else was around. I decided to start talking about diving on the coral reefs in the Florida Keys and not concentrate on my dick. It was working for me, and I soaped myself up paying very little attention to my lower body, for obvious reasons. When I finally thought it was safe to check him out, I almost choked. I know this is hard to believe but his dick was just as I imagined it. It was seven inches, nice and thick and uncut. His chest was nicely define and hairless and when he turned around, his cute white, hairless boy butt was just too much for me. My dick began to grow. Then he turned around and I noticed his hard-on blowing in the wind. By now we both knew we were looking at one another. I was thinking I wish I was a little more like Brad. While I was trying to figure out what to do, he quickly finished up and ran to the dressing area laughing out loud about the marina being filled with horny Boston boys.

"Fuck you" was all I could think of saying, delighted with the situation. Now I knew for sure I was going to have him and I was sure he wanted me as well.

But how was it going to happen?

We had dinner and got to know a little more about one another. He was really starting to open up. I could tell he was smart. He went to a private school in Virginia. I found out his father was a Washington DC attorney and Mart didn't get along with him. He boarded at the Academy, went home on holidays and that was ok with him. He told me his mother and sister where really his stepmother and step sister. He liked them ok but didn't feel very close to them. His real Mom died of cancer a long time ago. He had another year of high school left; he knew he didn't want to be a lawyer and hoped to major in business or something, but wasn't sure about any of it.

I have an uncle that teaches at George Washington University in Wash DC and another at St. Michael's in Vermont, and an aunt who teaches nursing here at Tufts, so we talked a lot about colleges. I told him about BU and told him he should consider it.

Finally, stupid me with my own agenda, thinking with my dick head instead of my brain, I had to ask, "Any girlfriends?"

"No!" he said, and started to laugh. "Any boyfriends?"

I was kind of shocked; I'd been outed. Was I that obvious? Well after all, I wasn't trying to hide being gay. After the scene in the shower room and the way I had been looking at him all day, what was he supposed to think about me. So my secret was out. I think I was freaked because I thought I was in charge of this conversation.

"Yes, I'm gay. I guess I'm kind of coming out this summer."

There, I had said it, and I didn't die and the world didn't come to an end. I took a deep breath and waited for him to respond ... in the way I hoped he would, with an invitation to take me to bed. He said nothing for a few seconds, then, very calmly, "So, what else is there to do around here?"

I think I was pissed or devastated, I'm not sure which. Was I wrong about him? I saw him checking out Tom and Brad and he got hard in the shower room too. I know he was checking me out. I felt like I had just opened up to him and he slammed the door shut in my face. True to my own immaturity--sacred rule number one--I pouted. I was ready to call it a night. The music from the marina's outdoor night club was cranking but I wasn't going. It was really kind of silly but I wasn't use to telling people I was gay and I just wanted to disappear. Fuck the Boston Globe boys; fuck this job; fuck it all and fuck Brad and Tom.. Why I was mad at them, I wasn't quite sure.

I told Mart I was tired because I had gotten up at 5:00 am. If he wanted he could come to Gramps' boat where I had stashed a few cold beers. Really, I just wanted him to go and put my own confused head under a pillow, but he followed me to the boat. I gave him a quick one minute tour of a not so special 26'I/O Donzi LX. I gave him a beer and, before I could see it coming or realize what was happening, he kissed me on the lips. Shocked, but not so stupid as to start yapping my mouth off again, I quickly took his beer and mine, put them on the table and took him in my arms and returned the kiss. As his mouth opened to receive me, my mood began to change. I held him tight and could feel the stirring in both our pants. We both reached down and felt one another's hardening dicks.

He suddenly pulled away from me, eyes wide. "I got to go," he said. "I hope you don't mind if I don't finish my beer." And, he was gone in a flash. I think he was off the boat before I found my vocal cords. What a crazy night! I was still hard and could feel the pre-cum on my dick head.

I had breakfast with Brad and Tom and listened to the adventures of their last night. I told them about mine. It sounded like a soap opera on the retelling. The advice I got was that Marty was a serious closet case and that I should just forget all about him. Brad had met a cute guy he wanted me to meet. Nothing they said helped because I'm kind of a closet case too. The only person in my family who knew I was gay was my 16 year old brother. We were too horny brothers sharing a room and had played around together a few times. But Jason liked girls and I liked boys and we both understood that. No one at school knew. I had two gay uncles and they didn't know. So I'm a closet case too.

I decided to see what another day would bring. Nothing! Then another day and nothing ... no sign of him! That night after dinner with Mom and Dad and a host of siblings and their friends, I told Jason about Marty but he didn't seem interested. I think Brad and Tom were upset with me and felt I was avoiding them.

On my day off, I got brave and went to the Jones' yacht. Looking around again, I just got the feeling it wasn't a happy place. At my home everyone was always talking loud and trying to talk at the same time. Someone was always laughing about something or whining about something or pushing someone or complaining about someone, but it was a happy dysfunctional place.

On the other hand, the Jones' yacht was quiet. I was sort of welcomed. The Captain grunted and when I told him I wanted to invite Marty to go out on Gramps' boat with me. I told him I would take him out for the afternoon. I explained a great boat run where you actually leave Boston harbor, put your boat in a lock and end up in the Charles River. It's kind of exciting trip especially to a tourist and a great way to see the, city, the Capitol building, the brownstones of Back Bay, Boston University, Cambridge, Harvard, MIT and the Science Museum.

"Just the two of you?" he asked.

"Well, I just don't seem to get the same day off as my friends, so I though it would be fun. I never go out on Gramps' boat alone."

By now Mart was listening and nodded and the Captain agreed. I suggested a swim suit in case we swam and a sweatshirt and a towel. Marty got his stuff while I stood there in silence.

Ten feet from the yacht, Marty placed a tentative hand on my arm and said, "Listen Allen, I owe you an explanation."

No you don't Marty. We're friends right? Let's just have fun."

"But...."

"Hey Mart, Boston is one of the prettiest cities in the country and you're about to get the million dollar tour. Plus, I'll show you where Brad and I are going to college and I have beers, a bottle of wine and subs and tunes. I laughed and ran ahead."

I got the vents going and started the engine, and with Mart handling the lines we were off.

Even a blind man couldn't help but love this trip. We motored by the JFK Library, and cruised in close to where the City's high rise buildings meet the harbor. We saw the site of the Boston Tea Party, followed by the North End where Paul Revere did his thing. We chugged past Old Ironside, the oldest ship in the US fleet. Finally, we reached the Charles River Locks. I've done this trip all my life and I still get excited over it. I like to think that JFK and Bobby enjoyed it as much as I do and may have done it as many times.

We were having a great time. The tension was gone. I made him take the wheel for awhile and guided him carefully. I took over when we got to the locks because that can be a little tricky. We waited in cue and got in and out of the lock and into the Charles. I thought he was impressed. I broke out a few beers as we sailed up the river. The day was clear and the few clouds above us were dancing in the sky under a bright sun. I was happy to be with Mart and I was happy to be sharing something I really loved with him. I'm also a good tour guide. Boston is home for me and I've crawled over every inch of anything that is even remotely interesting in this town.

At the end of the Charles there are some little wooded channels that are very quiet and very private. We anchored in the shallow water for lunch and to lay out for awhile. I kind of thought he might talk. I was thinking to myself that when I'm out here I'm not horny, I'm more excited about the history and the great minds that have sat on these banks and influenced the world. But to be honest, I did like the swim trunks Marty put on and I did think he looked great. I went down and put on trunks I'd never wear in front of my mother.

We settled comfortably on the stern of the boat with our beer and sandwiches. Marty suddenly blurted, "My father hates queers!" He quickly looked down at his sandwich and wouldn't meet my eyes. "He doesn't like me much now and doesn't even know that I am one. He talks about fags all the time. He fired someone at his firm just because he thought the guy might be gay, and he brags about it." He turned to me with sad eyes. "I'm sorry I kissed you. It was my fault. I just don't want to be gay until I'm out of college and away from him forever." His eyes pleaded for my understanding. "You saw him get mad at me. He broke my arm once and gave me a black eye. I'm sorry I kissed you; he'd kill me if he ever found out."

Wow, he got that off his chest real fast. "Marty, I'm not sorry you kissed me. I kissed you too, remember? I'll kiss you now if you let me." He looked up at me with big doe eyes. "I'm sorry about your fucking dad. He's a bigot and an asshole. Sorry to say that about your dad but that's what he is."

"Allen, I'll never change him and he's all I got. If he throws me out of the house my life is ruined. I can't afford college or anything without him. I've got no one to talk to. My step mother is as afraid of him as I am. Angela is too young."

"Marty, all I can say is that I'm sorry. It's not about me dude; it's about you being a virgin till you get out of college." Is that possible? I'm in the closet too, but I'm sure it will be ok when I come out. I didn't know what to say. "I think I was kind of a jerk the other night too. I'm sorry ."

We were both quiet for awhile and sucking on our beers and eating the subs.

"Hey Mart, lets just agree to be buds. No more, and especially no less. Give me a hug bud."

And that's what we did. I was lying of course. I wanted to be more than just friends. I wanted to make love to him, maybe for the first time in my life. I've never had feelings for anyone I had `done it with', just lust. But, I felt different about Marty. I didn't know why.

The only problem with being in these channels is the mosquitoes. So we left. Our moods picked up; he asked for the wheel and we started to laugh and wave to the losers stuck in rush hour traffic along Storrow Drive that runs along the river. Who says we have to be nice guys all the time?

So now I had three gay friends and none six weeks ago.

We said good night about seven o'clock with one of those jock hugs where you slap a guy on his back. I went home and called Gramps to let him know I owed him some gas, just in case he went to the boat tomorrow. He laughed and said he'd take it out of my inheritance. Then, he said he wanted to guess where I had gone with the boat. I laughed. He guessed and he was right.

I tried to talk to Jason about the whole thing, but we ended up talking about asshole lawyers and comparing stories about how many of our friends had messed up parents. Jason thinks that when I come out to Mom and Dad, Mom will hug me and cry about this special moment and Dad will shake his head and walk out of the room. Then he'll come back around, tell me to be safe and all about AIDS and shake my hand and, in his best serious face, tell me I'm still his son and he loves me like he loves all his children.

It might be a straight thing or a military thing, but Dad never tells any of his kids that he loves them. He will tell each of us that he loves all his children. We started acting it out, imitating Mom and Dad and laughing our butts off. We did it over and over again and rated one another's performance. I needed that. God, I love that kid I promised Jason to get up early and run the Harvard track with him. I answered some emails on AOL and went to bed early, jacked off while Jason showered and then I slept.

I saw Mart everyday after that but not for very long periods of time. He hung with the three of us and it was always fun. I was thinking that whatever we felt for one another, be it lust or love, it was better left unsaid. It was all kind of confusing but everything seemed ok.

Mart ran with us often, but always showered on his boat. The longest time I spent with him was when a group of us went to a Red Sox game. He got to meet Jason and I could tell they both liked one another. That night, Brad, Tom, Jason, Marty and I slept on Gramps' boat. It really only sleeps two comfortably. Everyone behaved, no sex mostly because I quietly threatened Brad with castration because of Marty and Jason.

It was coming close to the end of their visit and Marty would be going to Annapolis for the rest of the summer and living on the yacht till it was time to go back to school. We helped the Captain gas up the night before they left. It took a couple of hours. Then, I said good bye to Marty, and at the same time, he said bye to Brad and Tom, with the Captain looking on. It wasn't special, but I gave him a real big hug with a promises to continue our friendship via email.

That night, I was down on Gramps' boat naked with the guys watching Jay Leno and kind of falling asleep. I guess we did naked because we could and we were comfortable with one another. It was good being with the guys, but I was a little bummed. The hatch was open, and I heard and felt someone step on board. I yelled up, not knowing who it was. No answer. I stood naked at the base of the steps and looked up. Marty was looking down at me, grinning.

"Can I come aboard Captain?" he asked, sarcastically.

"Only if you come down naked," shouted Brad.

"Shut the fuck up Brad," I said.

"Aye, Aye sir, "Marty said, giving me a sloppy salute, And off came his shirt and down came his shorts, followed by his Calvins.

I'm not quite sure what happened next. Mart came down. Brad stood up and took Marty's hardening dick in his hand. Marty grabbed Brad's dick with one hand and took mine in his other, and kissed me on the lips. Tom was up in a flash and Brad knelt down, putting Mart's cock in his mouth, then sucking on mine and then Tom's. All the time Mart and I were kissing passionately and Tom was tweaking Mart's nipple and rubbing my back and butt and fingering my butt crack.

I got down and took Marty's cock in my mouth. God, I wanted it for so long. I took his balls in my hand and gently played with them while I was sucking on his gorgeous hard cock. Marty and Tom started kissing and Brad came over to help me lick Marty dick and balls. Then, he started to suck on Tom's big cock as I continued feeding on Marty's shaft. I could feel he wasn't going to last long, and I didn't want it to happen. So, I stood up and again we kissed as I drove my tongue deep into his throat.

Marty went down on me. It was the hardest my dick had ever been. He gagged a little. I bent down and whispered in his ear that he didn't have to suck me.

"Are you crazy? Allen, I've been practicing it in my mind for almost two weeks." Not wasting another minute he took me back in his mouth and continued to make love to my cock."

I looked over at Tom and Brad. Brad was working very hard on Tom's cock. I knew it would end up with Tom fucking Brad's butt; it's what they both wanted. I also knew it wouldn't happen before Tom got to taste Marty's cock. I urged Marty to stand up and we moved toward the boys and, as I thought he would, Tom immediately went down and swallowed Marty's dick. Brad moved around behind Marty and began to lick his butt while again Marty and I face fucked and he played with my cock.

"Ok boys." Tom stood up and pushed us aside, grabbing Brad's arm and said, "Get on the bed butt boy."

"Yes sir," Brad replied, and leaped on the bed, making his willing bubble butt available.

Friends will be friends even in the heat of sex and I was grateful. Mart and I went up on deck. It was a beautiful night with a moonless sky filled with stars. The marina was silent and it felt so good being naked in the dark together.

"Are you ok with this?" I asked him.

Marty smiled. "Allen, every time you open your stupid mouth I think I love you more." We wrapped our arms around one another and our dicks got hard all over again ... and I loved him more.

I took a bench cushion and put it on the deck. Putting him down on it, I brought my body on top of him ... just like in my fantasy.

Before it was over, I had tasted every inch of his hot naked body, including his butt. When I turned him over to lick his butt, I could hear him moaning and twitching as I assaulted his pucker with my tongue. He was mine. I didn't know where this was all going, but for now I knew I loved him and he was mine.

I turned him over and got my finger wet with the help of our pre-cum. Then, I gently pushed it up his butt hole in search of his sex button. All the while I was sucking his nice cock. I felt the hesitation caused by my finger, but then he relaxed. His balls were clenching the base of his dick and I knew it wouldn't be long.

"I want your cum, Baby,"

"Yes!" is what I heard as my mouth began to fill with his cum. "Yes!" and he shot more and I swallowed as fast as I could wanting to taste every bit of it.

He was spent, I could tell, but he moved around still laying on the mat and took my hard cock as I knelt there in front of him. I knew it was going to be quick and it was. I told him I was going to come, but it didn't matter. He was a natural. It may have been his first, but he knew how to take his lover's load.

Tom and Brad left the boat with kisses and hugs all around, and Marty and I went below still naked and very relaxed. I had a lot of questions, but they would go unanswered. I got us two Cokes and quickly changed the sheet. I lit a candle. He would have to go, we both knew it, but not before we got on the bed. We laughed about Brad the sex machine but I was grateful to have great friends. We cuddled and fell asleep.

Some time later, I woke, startle. The boat rocked slightly. Were Brad and Tom coming back? I sat up in bed, groggy. "Who's there? Brad?" What the hell time was it?

A dark shadow appeared, "Fucking queers!" it shouted. Then I felt a club hit hard across my leg. The pain was excruciating.

Marty screamed, "Dad!" Then I felt another blow to my chest and another to my stomach.

"Dad!"

"Shut up cocksucker!" This time, the blow was to Marty's head.

I reached out to Marty but now I felt another blow to my shoulder and then another.

"Leave him alone," Marty screamed.

Another savage blow fell and I watched helplessly as he grabbed Marty's lifeless body and tossed it on the floor. I tried to get off the bed. I was sure my leg was broken, maybe my ribs. I tried, but he pushed my naked body down on the bed and grabbed my balls and squeezed them as hard as he could and punched me in the mouth.

I remember mostly pain and not being able to talk. I also remember crying, feeling my tears run down my face and feeling the blood come out of my mouth. I tried again to get off the bed. I knew he was going to kill me. He turned around as if to go after his son, but instead he picked up his club, turned back around and slammed my head. And then I remembered nothing.

When I woke, it was getting light outside. Marty was gone. I felt I was dying. I reached over to my cell phone and called home. Jason answered. "Jason, don't tell Mom and Dad. Help me!" I dropped the phone and cried.

I think I remember being hauled off the boat by EMTs. I remember seeing Jason and Mom, and cops and firefighters and lights and people. I think I remember seeing the yacht still there and seeing cops on deck. Mostly I remember Mom crying hysterically and I think Jason was holding my hand. There were ambulances and fire trucks and police cars and more people, everywhere.

I don't remember the first few days in the hospital or being transferred from Boston City to Boston's Children's Hospital. I don't remember surgery. I don't remember the days or the nights, but I do remember having dreams. I kind of remember Jason holding my hand, but that might be because he was holding my hand when I woke up.

"Marty. Where's Marty," I tried to say, but was somewhat surprised that I couldn't talk. Mom, Dad in uniform, Jason, my older brother Larry, two doctors, one old and one young and somebody else in a suit were all standing around in the room.

"Son," the older doctor said, "you can't talk right now, your jaw has been broken and it is healing. We've wired your mouth shut, so you won't able to speak for a week or so and you won't be able to eat. I'm sorry son, but you and your friend were severely beaten. Thank God you're young and you will heal." Maybe he could read it in my eyes. "Your young friend is in a light coma and is still not doing well, but we think he will be fine.

I know I was crying, and when I looked around Mom, Jason, Larry and even Dad was crying. I remember Mom and Dad touching me and I fell asleep.

It took six weeks. I wanted out. What was I doing in a children's hospital anyway? It ended up that I had a concussion, a damaged liver, a broken jaw, two ribs broken, and a broken leg. And, they had to remove my spleen to boot. Let's just say that I was a mess.

But, the main thing was that Marty was ok. He was transferred by plane to a hospital in DC,in his step mom's care. He was going to be just fine. We both were going to be fine.

Jason came to see me at the hospital the day after I woke up and told me that Mom and Dad knew everything. He had their permission to be the one to tell me since he was the one that explained it all to them and to the cops. He cried hoping that I wasn't angry with him. Of course I wasn't, the jerk, he had no choice. He was also the one to tell me that Arnold P. Jones had been in jail but he was out already. He wasn't allowed to come to the hospital and visit his son. He also told me the story had been in the paper. Everyone in the greater Boston area knew.

Then the monologues started because I couldn't talk. First Mom and Dad, then my older brother Larry, then Gramps and Gram from Boston and Florida, then my uncle who is a catholic priest in Montreal, my Aunt Rita the nurse from Tufts, my Uncle Nick the professor from St. Michael's and his gay partner Arnie, and on an on. Everybody wanted me to know I was loved. Nobody cared that I was gay. Lot's of tears and lot's of laughing but it hurt me when I laughed. Uncle Nick was happy that there was another generation of gay men in the family. My cousin George came by and surprised me. He's hot and 25 and he came out to his parents the day after my beating. I had a gay cousin, and two gay uncles, no wonder I'm queer!

When I could talk, Dad came by with the detective. It was complicated. I had to tell them the entire story in as much detail as I could. It was still very hard for me to talk. I felt bad for Dad. I knew he was uncomfortable but he held my hand through the whole interview. The complication was that Arnold P. Jones had assaulted and battered me and his own son with a dangerous weapon. He gave himself up when he brought his son to the hospital about the same time I called home. He claimed he lost it when he found me having sex with his underage son. Marty was 17 and I was 18.

It would take a long time to settle this, and I'm jumping way ahead of myself, but Arnold spent five days in jail for his crime...that was it. He's still practicing law in Washington DC. No charges were ever filed against me for having sex with a minor, someone eight months younger than me.

I didn't know it then, but two and a half years have passed and I have never seen him, emailed him or talked with him. I have no idea what he's doing. I hope someday he reads this story and knows that he was my first love.

I had wanted the summer of 03 to change my life. It did.

It would take a longtime for me to heal. Boston University would never happen. I was never sure if Dad made it happen or if it was fate, but we transferred to Key West, my favorite place on earth. Brad, Tom and I are still friends and email a few times a week. Brad has a part time job on a gay porn web site and I laugh every time I see him on it. Jason and I are very close. And me, I just graduated from Florida Keys Community College and I work for a dive company. Of course I graduated with honors. I've been in counseling for over two years but my counselor is a gay man. I still have sex every chance I get, but that's another story.