This story tells about sex between men. If this offends you, or if you're too young to be reading this kind of stuff, please hit "Back" right now.
Miracle in Newburyport
If you've ever sailed a Conestoga class sloop you will know what I'm talking about. It's a "bare bones" racing machine about 25 feet on the waterline, with a large, open cockpit, room under the deck fore and aft for stowing sailbags, and little else. Not exactly a cruising boat but one of my fraternity brothers had bought an old, unraceable one cheap and that's what we used it for. Almost every weekend after the skiing season was over any number of us (we took eight to Provincetown) would pile on board with sleeping bags and a change of clothes. We'd aim for some harbor about five or six hours away, and figure on tying up at the local yacht club. Yacht clubs have guest privileges for members of other clubs. Of course we didn't belong to anything, but a bunch of college kids on a big racing boat was hard to turn away. Also, since the Conestoga had no engine and a ragtag crew, our dockings were often spectacular and sometimes pretty damn funny. We could feel we were earning our stay by providing entertainment. We would sleep on shore, usually on someone's porch or somewhere on the yacht club grounds.
So this is how Josh and I ended up sailing one Saturday from Gloucester to Newburyport. The rest of the standard crew had one dumb excuse or another but it was a bright day, there was a stiff breeze and it was too good to waste. We set out from Eastern Point and headed out past the Bass Rocks light and then up around the cape.
Joshua Delano was my age but a year ahead of me. He was from one of those old New York families and in fact he looked just like the pictures of Franklin Roosevelt, who he claimed was a distant cousin. All he needed was the cigarette holder. He was a good skier and and a good sailor but otherwise a complete couch potato. Without working for it at all he had inherited a great body. Do you know what the "Adam" looks like on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? A big, hunky nude, stretched out on a cloud, waiting for the finger of God to zap him into life? That was Josh, just slightly more pumped up. You may have noticed that Adam has a totally insignificant cock. What Josh's cock looked like was a mystery to me. We lived in the same house and I had secretly lusted after him for the last year and a half but I had never laid eyes on it. Josh was so modest that to see him naked you would have to be right in the shower-stall with him and even then he would probably have hidden his dick between his legs. Not a very sexy person you might say, and you might be right. The way he stood and the way he moved were so slack and so un-physical that if you saw him with all his clothes on you would never guess there was an outstanding body underneath.
The way he spoke was beyond modest. Give him a word with the slightest sexual connection, "mistress," for example, and he would blush and go into a high-pitched stammering mumble. Imitating it was a cheap way to get a laugh from the brothers. We had a ditty about him and his room-mate Jonathan Pruitt, who was pathologically shy with girls:
Up in the corner Delano and Pruitt, One can't say it, the other won't do it.
This was his weakness; otherwise he was a very smart guy, a good friend and, last but not least, the owner of a very attractive body.
The question for me was, did Josh shared my "proclivity?" Was he interested in men, too? How could I find out? It was totally impossible to imagine bring up the topic with him. So I kept my mouth shut, but I was always dreaming of an opportunity to check him out.
Our plan was to crash at the Newburyport Yacht Club, which is deep in the harbor at the mouth of the Merrimack River. The wind had been strong in the morning but petered out in the afternoon, so we didn't even get near the harbor until about eight. We were tacking slowly but steadily against a light offshore breeze, but
after a while we noticed that even though we were moving right along through the water, we were not getting any closer to the land. The combination of the ebb tide with the outflow from the Merrimack made a current that pushed us back as fast as we moved forward.
It was getting dark and we were getting nowhere. The Conestoga had no radio and no running lights so night sailing was out of the question. The chart showed a beach about a quarter mile south of the harbor entrance. We decided we would anchor there, swim ashore, walk to town and find someplace to eat and someplace to stay. The Yacht Club, unfortunately, was on the north side of the river. When we got to the beach there was just enough light for us to find our way reasonably close to shore and toss over the anchor. We ended up about a hundred and fifty yards out, in twenty feet of water.
There was an air-mattress on board. We figured we would use it as a raft to get towels, our wallets and a set of dry clothes onto the beach with us. Since it was dark now and the beach was deserted I stowed all the clothes I was wearing and stood by the gunwale in the nude. "Come on, Josh!" I said. Now I would get the eyeful I had been waiting for. Josh stammered and mumbled and finally got the words out: "I'm going in my underwear." Oh, well! I dove into the water and held the mattress while Josh slid in. He pulled himself half onto it and started rowing with his hands and kicking. It turned out he did not know how to swim. I side-stroked alongside, keeping an eye on him. Meanwhile I was naked in the water, and loving it. There is no substitute for swimming naked. It must be your cock and balls swirling around as your legs work the water, because taking a bath naked just doesn't do it. I kept this to myself so as not to give Josh a hard time. He was being pretty brave as it was.
When we got to the beach we used the towels to dry off and we put on the clothes we had brought. Josh had one more chance to show me his all but he mumbled something and put on dry trousers right over his wet underpants. I rolled up the air mattress, brushed off as much sand as I could and tucked it under my arm. Josh carried the towels. We walked toward the lights of the town, wondering where we would stay. One idea was to get arrested and spend the night in jail, but when we came across a cop we chickened out and asked him for advice. He told us there was a cheap hotel a few blocks away that could probably put us up.
"The Merrimack Arms" was the name of this establishment. A small-town hotel right out of the past. It looked, and smelled, ancient. It turned out that twin beds cost ten dollars more than a double. "Let's take the double," I said. "We can handle it." I had an ulterior motive, of course. Josh started to mumble but I think he could not bring himself to say anything about a bed in front of the clerk, so we got the double. The clerk told us there was an all-night diner down the street and before even seeing our room we went out to eat. We were starving. With the money we had saved on the room we were able to splurge; we ordered two steak dinners and two ice-cream sundaes. We were still too young to buy beer in Massachusetts. We walked back feeling pretty good about ourselves. We had spent an active and successful day on the ocean. We had handled our final predicament brilliantly. We had earned a good night's rest.
The bed turned out to be a very narrow double. We agreed that for decency's sake each of us would take one of the sheets and fold it into a kind of sleeping sack. The night was warm enough so that we did not need blankets. I stripped and wrapped myself naked in my sheet. I lay facing away as Josh undressed but I managed to sneak a look as he got onto the bed. He was still wearing the underpants.
I knew that if ever I was going to get my hands on Josh it would be that night. We were in the same bed! That alone was enough for a hard-on. But the problem of getting through to him seemed as impossible as ever. Finally I had an idea, and worked it into a plan. It might not do the trick, but at least I would have tried.
I waited until Josh's breathing had been slow and regular for about a quarter of an hour. I heard a little bit of a snore and knew it was time. I reached over and shook his shoulders. "Josh! Wake up! What are you doing?" Josh must have been deep in the first phase of his sleep, because it took him a while to come to. "What are you doing?" I repeated. "What?" said Josh. He was still totally out of it. "Josh when I woke up just now you were on my side of the bed." "What?" "You were on my side of the bed, you were on top of me and you had, you took, you had my penis in your mouth."
Josh's eyes widened and he turned bright red. I actually felt a tiny twinge of sympathy for the poor bastard. "No," he said, "that's impossible!" "Can't you still taste it?" I asked shamelessly. He licked his lips. "I don't know. I don't think so. How could I do such a thing?" "It's okay, you were asleep. It's like sleepwalking. You're not responsible." "But how could I do it?" He was shaking his head, and I thought he was going to burst into tears any minute. "Josh, listen. I have to tell you something. This is hard to say but when I first woke up with my penis in your mouth it felt really nice. It felt wonderful. I don't think I ever felt anything so beautiful." Josh stared at me with his mouth open, and I think I saw his face relax just a little. "Josh, it felt so good! Let me show you."
Josh tried to back away but I was too fast for him. I sat on his legs and pulled down the underpants. They were still slightly damp. His cock was good-sized after all, about two-and-a-half Adams. It was limp but when I cupped his balls it stiffly swiffened into a lovely, rosy erection. I bent down and took the head into my mouth. I heard Josh gasp. I could taste the salt from our swim. I ran my tongue under his foreskin and licked over and under his glans. I felt his thighs go tense as his legs straightened under me. I slid his cock further into my mouth and tongued the underside like a hungry whore. He whimpered. I pulled away and attacked his balls. They hung quite low and I was able to get both of them in my mouth at the same time. Josh cried out: "Hey!" and started to sit up but then fell back and rubbed his shoulders into the bed. I licked around behind the balls and tickled his ridge with the tip of my tongue. He rocked his hips slightly. He was getting into it! I licked my index finger and slid it back along his crotch skin. This might be my last chance. He was shaking his head but I felt his knees pushing slightly apart. I put more spit on my finger and traced around the rim of his hole. He said "No!" but his heart wasn't in it, and his legs spread even wider. Meanwhile I had gone back to work on his shaft. I took it in as far as I could and started a slow, steady sucking. A baby at the breast, or a five-year-old with a bad thumb habit. I held his balls, rolled them lasciviously around in my hand and softly squeezed them. I heard him catch his breath and he started a low, steady moaning. I took a second to re-moisten my finger. Then as I speeded up the rythm of my sucking and squeezing I pushed my finger gently but firmly up into his ass. I felt his whole body quiver and his penis start to jerk. "Holy shit!" The words came up out of him. "Holy shit, ... fuck, ... fuck, ... fuck!" as his sperm shot into my mouth. I felt as if I had witnessed a miracle. I gave him one last long suck to milk him dry and then pulled slowly away and wiped my mouth on the sheet. I looked up at his face. He was grinning from ear to ear and when he saw me watching him he propped himself up on his elbows and said: "You lying motherfucker, get your cock over here! I'm going to finish what I started."