A little distance before the water’s edge a craggy pile of rock reared up through the sand. Here Nick and Danny had gone poking about in rock pools their first morning. Jason remembered how his cock had stiffened as he’d watched them both in the distance getting their dicks out and playfully peeing into a pool from opposite sides. By now Jason knew there was a crevice in this rocky outcrop, near the top, which remained dry even at the top of a normal summer high tide. He made toward this crevice now and, on finding it, stuffed his flip-flops and the towel he carried as far into it as they would go. After a moment’s hesitation and a glance back along the beach, he peeled off his trunks and crammed those in as well. Then he walked the last few yards into the sea.
Jason waded till he was armpit deep and then struck out, breaststroke. He wanted to keep his destination in sight, if it were possible, all the way. The hull of the yacht was now only occasionally visible, but the masthead remained a reassuring landmark to help him keep his course. It was a longer swim than he’d anticipated. At one point he thought he heard the buzz of an outboard motor somewhere quite near, but he couldn’t pinpoint the direction of the sound with any accuracy nor could he see a boat. But at last the side of the yacht loomed close in front of him, and Jason, feeling there could be no going back now, quickly closed the gap between it and himself.
He hauled himself out of the water with the help of cleats on the yacht’s slippery side, and then was peering in over the rail. And there he beheld, sitting in the well of the yacht’s cockpit, not two young men with no clothes on but, sitting facing him, a single youth clad in shorts. They were the smallest, tightest shorts imaginable, it has to be said, and they were khaki in color, so they very nearly matched the tone of the youth’s lightly tanned skin, but they still clothed him a hundred percent more decently than Jason himself was clad. What’s more—although this surprised Jason rather less—the youth was someone Jason knew.
Or at least, had met. It was hard to say which of the two was the more surprised. But it was the youth, on his home ground and more confidently dressed, who spoke first. “Oh, hi. We met in the pub last night. You were with… Sorry, I don’t remember their names. Pete helped carry your drinks out. He’s my cousin. I’m Simon.”
“I remember,” Jason said. “And I’m Jason. My two mates… Well, they’re not here right now. Danny and Nick.”
“Climb on over,” Simon said to Jason, who still hesitated, hanging on to the rail, his feet trailing in the water below.
“Are you sure?” Jason queried, suddenly disconcerted by his nakedness. “I don’t have any trunks on.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Just hop over the rail anyway. You’ve just missed Pete. He buzzed off to shore in the inflatable a few minutes ago to get some supplies. Surprised you didn’t meet him.”
“Think I heard his outboard, but our paths didn’t quite cross.” Jason hauled himself onto the deck and stood in all his naked glory, dripping. In the main he made an impressive sight: a Michelangelo statue, tall, slim waisted and muscular. But his crowning adornment, his more-than-Michelangelo prick, had been severely affected by its exposure to the chilly sea, and looked distinctly cold and sorry for itself and smalclass="underline" a little pinecone protruding from the join between belly and legs, retreating shyly behind his foreskin’s folds, his pee-hole a tiny tight pucker in the skin. As for his magnificent balls, they were scarcely on view at all, as they tried to climb back into the warmth inside him, his ball sac tight and wrinkled as a prune, and almost hidden among his pubes. Whatever might or might not be lurking in the privacy of Simon’s shorts, the boy was not going to be intimidated by anything that Jason had on show right now.
“Let me get you a towel,” Simon offered practically. He got up. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down the companionway, making the boat rock slightly. Jason lowered himself onto the bench seating of the cockpit and made himself as comfortable as naked skin can manage to be on shiny, plastic-covered cushions.
Simon reappeared a moment later with a towel. To Jason’s mild disappointment, though hardly to his surprise, he was still wearing shorts. Even so, he was a very prepossessing sight. Jason guessed his age to be about nineteen, like Nick. And though he wasn’t as big or tall as Nick he was chunky and muscular in a cute kind of way. He had straw-blond hair, blue eyes, snub nose and a smiling mouth. And those shorts were tantalizingly tight. Jason guessed they had been his Boy Scout uniform shorts, outgrown and discarded maybe three years before but now pressed once again into overstretched service for the summer. They revealed practically the whole of his sturdy thighs, and were tight enough to display a proud prominence at the front: a dome in which it was not yet possible to pick out separate outlines of cock and balls but which was nevertheless extremely promising in terms of size.
“Here.” Simon threw the towel to Jason, who caught it, thanked him and promptly stood up and started to dry himself. After a few seconds he was surprised to hear Simon say, “Here, I’ll help you do your back,” which he immediately did, even patting Jason’s buttocks dry, though he was careful not to let his hands stray round to the front. Then they both sat down again on the bench seats, facing each other across the cockpit. They were both nervous now and unsure what to do or say next. Simon, conscious of his duties as a host, said, “Pete’ll be back shortly, I’m sure. In the meantime, I’m not too sure what the time is but I reckon it’s never too early for a gin and tonic. What do you think?” Jason thought this a fine idea and said so, at which Simon disappeared below deck a second time.
It took him a little longer to fix the gin and tonic than it had to fetch the towel, and Jason took advantage of this time to try and do something about his sadly foreshortened cock. In deciding to swim out here and bravely show himself off in statuesque nudity he had forgotten to take into account the inevitable effects of prolonged immersion in cold water. Nor had he guessed that the two young men he’d come calling on might not be naked after all. That made two things that had gone wrong. Still, it could have been worse. Simon had turned out to be not quite a stranger, and a nice fellow too.
Jason turned his attention to his dick. This might be the only occasion on which Simon would ever see it. They might meet again socially, in the pub, fully clothed, and Jason didn’t want the boy to keep with him the memory of a big hunky man, impressive without his clothes on except in the matter of his sea-shrunk cock. He touched it with his finger and tried to tickle it into life, then he tried pulling it with thumb and forefinger made into a ring, the way he had often seen Danny handle his own small prick. Still it refused to react. So he left it alone, instead lounging forward in his seat and spreading his legs wide, exposing his organ to the maximum in the glare of the sun. He guessed that if only his welcome lasted a little longer his diminished member would have time to warm up in the sunlight and return to at least some semblance of its usual size and majesty. Simon would at least take away from the morning’s encounter a decent memory of the sight of Jason’s cock even if, as seemed likely, the situation never developed to the point of anything happening between them.
Simon came back carrying two glasses of gin and tonic, garnished with lemon, chinking with ice and sparkling in the sun. He handed one to Jason, then went and sat opposite him, facing him once again across the cockpit. Jason noticed the boy’s eyes flick toward his crotch. Simon was clearly aware that Jason was putting his goods on display, though perhaps a little puzzled that he was so anxious to display something so run-of-the-mill in terms of size. But Jason took heart from that fact that Simon not only sat directly opposite him, drink in hand, but was mirroring his posture, crotch thrust well forward and legs spread wide apart so that their knees were little more than a foot apart.