The boy on the boat

Mick stood in the master cabin before the full length mirror and, in the dull orange light invading through the skylight above him, looked at himself. He'd seen his body a million times before but this time it was different. This time something real was about to happen to it, something he'd never known before. He had not joked when he said he'd never been with another man he had never come close. There had been offers at the pool, at the bars and clubs, even at school but something had always held him back.

He remembered, as a child, lying in his bed at night, fighting to stay awake in case his father came up and said goodnight. But he never came, he was always asleep when the man returned from work and then one day he was not at home at all. At boarding school he lay awake wishing an adult would come to him and sit with him. Just to reassure him that there was someone there. No one ever did. Through his teens only other boys would approach his lonely bed at night and slip a hand under the sheets, he would push it away. He didn't want what the others were doing. He wanted his father to come and say goodnight, to tell him he was loved. Then that wore away until he was left with just the longing for someone to tell him, to love him, and he dreamed of how it would be. The perfect man, it had to be a man, not another boy and in the perfect place at the right time. When Mick was ready, when he knew everything would be right.

When he had first met Jake he had sensed the person was right, older than himself, in control but also needing to be organized. Someone Mick could serve and learn from at the same time. When he had seen the boat he had known the place would be right. Whether the boat was anchored off some idyllic island or in a busy port it didn't matter. It was the boat that held the magic. And now Mick felt right, everything was in place. He turned the ring on his finger. It felt good there, like it belonged.

Now he wished he had experimented before. All he knew about sex was from what he'd read in novels and what he'd seen in the occasional film. Would it hurt? Would it be a disappointment? Would he fumble and would Jake laugh at him?

His body turned chilly and he shivered at his own reflection. He was twenty three, he was fit, he was a swimming champion. But was he attractive, and could he trust Jake?

He sat on the edge of the bed feeling the white silk sheets beneath him. Above he could hear a creaking rope, the murmur of a distant engine and a few voices laughing as people passed by on the shore. And within the softly rocking boat, the sound of a man, in the shower, heavy splashes of water and the lathering of soap. Just like in the films. As he waited obediently, he noticed that Jake had put condoms on the table by the bed and despite being high on dope, he felt nervous.
Finally he heard the shower stop. There were a few minutes of silence as Jake dried himself and then he came into the cabin. He switched off the bathroom light and Mick saw the man's dark, hazel coloured eyes looking down at him.

Jake was naked. His hair was damp and his dark, unshaved face was rugged. Undressed, his shoulders seemed broader somehow and his chest was defined and covered with a tangle of soft, dark hair. Mick let his own eyes travel further down, across the flat stomach to strong thighs and firm legs covered with softer, even hair which stopped at the ankles. His eyes looked back up to linger on the heavy, dark cock, seemingly half erect, hanging expectantly over uneven balls, the head only partly showing from beneath a smooth foreskin. No wide veins, like in the books, no circumcision like in the films. Suddenly there was no nervousness in Mick's mind. Just excitement. This was the man he had waited for.

And the man was kind. He seemed to be letting Mick take his time and the boy appreciated this. Then, after a while he felt his towel slowly pulled from him and he was pushed back. He closed his eyes, he couldn't look at his own penis, thinking it inadequate before Jake's, but he could feel it grow and slide along his thigh in anticipation.

He expected to feel hot breath between his legs and grasping hands but none came. Instead he was aware of a warm kiss on the sole of his right foot. The sensation made him jolt. The first contact, the first moment of sex, he had not expected it to start there. Then the mouth was on his other foot, then his ankles. Large hands were stroking his legs, soft breath on his knees, fingers wrapped around his thighs, massaging the muscles from front to back. He smiled and knew he had been right to wait.

The kisses dipped in and out of his rippled stomach and the firm tongue drew lines of heat across his panting chest. One side then the other, always even, always fair. The mouth warmed his nipples and he felt a rush of heat through his entire body. The broad hands stroked every inch of his arms and fingers rose up to cup his head as both of his eyelids were kissed by soft lips.

He felt legs astride him and the heavy cock resting on his stomach. His hands were held and slid behind his head by stronger hands as he was moved into a willing submissiveness. He felt the tongue play with each ear, sending shivers of pleasure to his chest and he heard soft, deep breathing close to him. Then he heard a voice, a man's voice, closer and real, whispering to him, ‘you are beautiful.’

And in that moment he was, at last. He was being made to feel beautiful. He was being adored, worshipped and loved. He felt at home and safe, his heart was racing and he breathed fast but inside he felt a new, unexplored calmness.

‘Just do what ever I do,’ the guiding voice whispered, tending to his innocence.

His eyes still closed, he felt Jake's lips only a breath away from his. He opened his mouth and could sense the other's breath in his throat, mingling with his own. His own tongue reached out and met the tip of the other. Only a fraction of skin meeting a fraction of skin made his whole body tighten and everything he had been feeling in his extremities rushed to that point and erupted with a vivid, electric explosion as their mouths closed together. He was beautiful.

Then Jake was moving back down. His kisses exploding like tiny mines of pleasure on Mick's body until they came to rest on the small tuft of pubic hair. He felt Jake's chin touch the tip of his painfully sensitive penis and he held his breath when all of it was taken into a hot, deep mouth. Only then did he make a sound, a soft moan of pleasure that had been waiting to leave him for many lonely years. Within a few seconds that pleasure exploded and was released as he could wait no longer.

But still he was beautiful. Jake was telling him so as he turned Mick onto his stomach and started kissing where Mick never knew pleasure could be found.
The kisses turned to fingers, slippery and uncomfortable. The films and books came flooding back to him and his heart beat faster. Then the pleasure again, which, for a moment, turned to searing hot pain. His breath was stolen from him as the weight of the older man covered him. He gasped in unexpected ecstasy and his head thrashed on the pillow as, behind his closed eyes, he saw flashes of electric blue and silver. But then the pain eased slowly and another pleasure began. He was tending to Jake now, giving him what he wanted and Mick was more beautiful because of it. He felt owned, needed and he loved it. He was engulfed by Jake's entire body, their hands gripped together under him, their legs wrapped tightly at the ankles and Mick strained his neck to kiss the man as he felt him shudder and gasp behind him.

It was only when Jake had collapsed beside him that Mick felt a tear roll from his eye. He wasn't sad or angry. He didn't feel bad. Nothing as simple or expected as that, he felt whole. Jake turned to him and caressed his back, kissing Mick's head and smoothing over the tears. The older man kissed one away and held Mick's head in one hand turning it from the pillow to face him.

‘What is it?’ he asked kindly, spreading other teardrops across the boy’s cheek with his thumb. ‘Everything o.k.?’

Mick looked at him and tried to find the right words, he couldn't. Instead he slid tighter into Jake's arms wrapping them around him. He felt safer and more at home than he had ever done before. He smiled to himself.

Jake was already drifting into sleep, his breathing slowing and deepening. Mick stroked the hairs on the man’s wide arms and felt a small kiss on his back. 

‘Goodnight Jake,’ he whispered.
‘Goodnight Andreas,’ the man replied.
Who was Andreas?