Best Gay Erotica 2012

THREE BOYS AND A BOAT—OR POSSIBLY FIVE Tony Pike

The summer of 1976 has remained in British folk-memory as the hottest and longest ever, in spite of all the records that have tumbled since. During that summer three young London lads who hadn’t met before rented a holiday cottage together on the Cornish coast, answering an ad they’d all seen in Time Out magazine. There was Jason, just out of university, aged twenty-three and the tallest and biggest of the three. There was Nick, living in that short limbo between school and university: at age nineteen he was a size or two smaller than Jason—though Jason found him quite big enough for his taste in bed. Then there was young Danny, with his last year at school behind him, guitar-playing, broad-brimmed-hat-wearing, very small and very cute, eighteen years old the week he met the other two for the summer.

On holiday together for the first time, they’d made the happy discovery that they were all gay. The hot weather had caused them to discard the jeans and tops they’d arrived in and to spend all their time in shorts, or swimming trunks, or sometimes neither. The last of these three sartorial possibilities tended to be their favorite when they were alone, the three of them, at Wrynack Cottage, Stoat Lane, in the evenings and early mornings.

During the first week of their stay, and of their acquaintance with each other, each had been clever enough not to stake any sort of exclusive claims to anyone, and they intended things to stay that way. If Jason wanted to sleep with Nick one night, that was fine with Danny; if Jason and Danny wanted to be alone together one afternoon then Nick saw no problem with that; often they found themselves—almost by accident, it seemed—enjoying a threeway on the lawn. So Jason did not feel in any way put out when, this particular morning, after a brief swim at the beach and a lie down to dry off in the sunshine, the two younger boys walked up the hill to get their bikes and ride off along the Devon lanes. They planned to have lunch in a village pub somewhere. Jason said that if they were planning to be back in time for an evening meal he’d shop and cook for them later. They thanked him and set off.

Jason remained on the beach, sunbathing and half dozing in the warm air. From time to time he sat up and gazed toward the sea. It was a brilliant blue, sparkling in the sun. Around the cove a number of small sailing boats, dinghies and cabin cruisers, yachts of varying sizes, lay at anchor, barely moving on the calm water, while little wavelets broke lazily against the shore. On one of the boats that stood farthest out there was some activity. Two young men were aboard it, bobbing in and out of sight as they moved about in the course of some task or other—changing the sails, maybe, or painting something. What attracted Jason’s notice particularly was the fact that both the slim and youthful figures appeared to be—as far as he could be certain from this distance—completely naked. Jason watched them for some time, and his heavyweight cock thickened lazily inside his trunks.

An idea occurred to Jason, though he soon dismissed it as far-fetched. Anyway, he wouldn’t be able to put it into practice today. There was shopping to be done. And if he needed sexual release before the others returned, there was always that familiar entertainment system between his legs. It stirred just then, as he thought about it. Jason smiled. That was something that never let you down.

In the pub that evening Danny and Nick regaled Jason with the story of their day. It had been more eventful than Jason’s and had involved Nick getting fucked by the diminutive Danny for the first time. There isn’t space to detail that particular adventure here. Enough to say that when the tale was done there was a palpable sense of excitement among the three of them. Nick, who had been the storyteller, felt obliged to break the spell: they were in a public place after all. “Okay,” he said, “who’s for another beer?” As he got up to go and fetch the second round, the ridge in his shorts was plain to see.

“I hope they don’t look too closely at him when he gets inside,” Jason said to Danny when he’d gone, and Danny gave a little snicker of a laugh and, half turning on his chair toward Jason, enabled him to see—gently showing off—the outline of a miniature erection in his own tight shorts, together with a freshly arrived blot of precome, which had worked its way from inside to out and of which he seemed to be quite proud, which Jason found touching.

Jason would have been tempted to reach out and have a feel of Danny’s hard-on through the fabric of his shorts but the occasional comings and goings of customers through the inn doorway just three feet away ruled that out—at least for the here and now. And then, a moment later, out came Nick, carrying two pints of beer, and with him two young men of about his age—though perhaps one was as old as Jason. This older one was carrying Nick’s third pint, which he set on the table in front of Danny and Jason just as Nick placed the others there. The young man explained, “Saw him struggling with three pints and two hands. Offered him the use of mine.”

“Thanks, mate,” Nick said, turning to him. “You sure you won’t stay and join us for one before you go?”

“Not this time,” he said. “Time for me to be off. But can we take you up on it another night? I’m Pete.” He offered Jason and Danny his hand to shake. All shook hands and gave their names. The younger boy was called Simon. In contrast to the shorts-wearing threesome, Pete and Simon were quite heavily dressed, in cord trousers, boots and fishermen’s sweaters. They both looked nice, though, in a butch and clean-cut way. They said goodnight, and see you again, then strode off and disappeared into the dark.

“They were finishing a game of darts,” Nick explained as he sat down and they all said cheers. “Then, as they were leaving, they saw me trying to carry our three drinks and helped me. Nice of them.”

The others agreed. “Nice looking too,” Jason said. He thought back to the idea he’d had, lying on the beach that morning, watching the boats and the boys that moved to and fro aboard one of them. Was it possible…?

“You’re sure you don’t mind Danny and me disappearing on our bikes again?” Nick asked Jason. Another sun-washed morning had begun, and the three lads had once more made their way downhill, with towels and wearing swimming trunks, to the beach.

“No, not at all,” Jason said. He added mysteriously, “I’ve got a little adventure of my own in mind, actually. Though it may not work out.” But he wore a look of determination that made the others think he was going to make pretty damn sure it did work out, whatever it might be. “I’ll let you know all about it afterward. Promise.”

Relieved to be let go with Jason’s blessing, the younger two took their leave. Half lying, half sitting on the sand, Jason watched them go, waved to them as they mounted their bikes and rode away uphill and inland, then turned his head toward the sea, glittering with its morning diamonds, and for some minutes lazily half watched the two young men on the distant yacht—who again seemed to be completely naked—going about their nautical housekeeping tasks.

Then, wearing nothing but his flip-flops, his tightest pair of swimming trunks, and with his small towel over one broad shoulder, Jason stood and walked down the sun-warmed beach. Halfway to the water’s edge he came to a sudden stop. All signs of life on board the yacht he’d been observing had disappeared, and Jason wondered if he was already too late. But then, after a little while, the two naked young men Jason had been watching earlier emerged from below deck, showed themselves in full-length silhouette for a moment, then sank down till only their heads were visible. It was difficult to be sure at this distance but they had each seemed to be carrying some object carefully in one hand, and Jason made the reasonable guess that they had come out on deck with a cup of tea or coffee each, and had now sat down to drink it in the sunshine.

Jason continued to stare at their heads for a moment longer but saw no other sign of activity. Then he resumed his walk down the beach to where gentle wavelets—the soft lappings of a summer morning—were unthreateningly licking the shore. He realized, hardly daring to believe it, that this was the moment. He was about to put his plan into action. The thought made him giddy for a moment. It was a plan so bold, so outrageous, that until a few days ago he would not have contemplated it in his wildest dreams.

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 small: 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.

“I’m glad you came,” said Simon. “It was nice to meet the three of you last night. But what brought you all the way across the sea this morning—without swimming trunks?” He stopped, surprised perhaps by his boldness, grinned, and then giggled.

That gave Jason enough confidence to answer with at least a little bit of the truth. “I’m embarrassed now,” he said. “I think I’ve made a bit of a gaffe. If I explain, promise you won’t throw me overboard?”

“Promise,” said Simon with a laugh. Jason thought, though perhaps it was only wishful thinking, that a bit of a ridge was becoming visible on the dome that already nicely mounded Simon’s tight shorts. Looking down he saw that his own cock, warming nicely in the sun, was already appreciably bigger than when he’d last looked, two minutes before.

“The thing is,” Jason explained, “the other lads and I—well, we quite like messing around in the nude when there’s no one but the three of us. I’d spotted you and Pete on the boat from a distance and thought, wrongly as it turns out, that the two of you also… But there you are in tan-colored shorts. My mistake. Beg pardon!”

“You don’t need to. Like I said, I’m glad you came. And how do you know we don’t go naked out on the boat here sometimes? Maybe you were right all along.” Simon stole another look at Jason’s lengthening penis. It seemed to be showing some definite interest in the developing conversation. This gave him the courage to develop it a little further. “Tell me to mind my own business if you like but when you say messing around together, what exactly do you mean?”

“Well,” said Jason treading carefully, not wanting to frighten Simon off. “All kinds of boy things.” The thought made his cock positively stir. Simon saw that, and now Jason no longer had any doubt that Simon’s dick was swelling strongly in his shorts. He looked into the boy’s eyes and seeing only encouragement and eagerness there, came out with it. “You know. Sexy things.” He paused a second. Simon did not take fright; instead his face relaxed into a grin. But Jason’s voice still showed a hint of caution as he asked, “You and Pete?”

The grin faded. “I wish,” he said. “But no.” Suddenly they were both totally relaxed together. The unsayable had been said by both sides.

“Tell me,” said Jason gently.

“We’re cousins but also good friends, and have been all our lives. Now we’re here together, smartening up this boat, which belongs to Pete’s father. Sharing a cabin, you know, and working side by side. By the way, I was misleading you when I said you might be right about the two of us working naked together. We never do. Even when we get undressed to get into our bunks Pete turns his back to me.” Simon shook his head. “Weird, you know. Here I am talking to you about all this, to a near stranger, and you’re sitting there right in front of me with a fantastic big cock and the sun shining onto it, and I’ve never even caught a glimpse of Pete’s. If I want to wank I have to do it in the shower, or else when he’s in the shower. I seem to have fallen for him in a big way. I don’t know if it’s love exactly, but it’s certainly lust. And all totally one sided. And it’s doing my head in.” He stopped. “I don’t know why I’ve just told you all that. You will keep it to yourself, won’t you?”

Simon looked again at Jason’s cock. “Hey, you’re getting pretty hard now.” It was true. Aroused by Simon’s story of what sounded like a bit of teenage heartbreak, Jason’s dick was morphing from sausage to pole. It hadn’t quite reached full stretch yet; it still curved downward a little even as it rose free from the cushion of his balls. The big cherry tip of Jason’s glans was beginning to peep from under his foreskin.

“If I’m getting a hard-on it’s because I’ve been watching you getting hard in your shorts too,” said Jason. “Couldn’t fail to notice, actually.”

They both peered at Simon’s crotch. Something that looked like a length of hose pipe was forming a tense curve, trapped in his shorts. Every feature of it was clear to see through the fabric, the long underside ridge and the V-shaped underside rim of his cockhead. He was almost certainly circumcised, Jason thought, showing off a helmet-rim as well defined as that. And the cockhead was pretty massive, the shaft solid and thick, though its length was difficult to gauge as yet. Under Jason’s gaze Simon suddenly wet his shorts with a generous spill of precome. Simon also saw the sudden seepage. He giggled. “Now look what you’ve made me do,” he said.

“It looks like you’d be more comfortable without the shorts on,” Jason said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Maybe I would,” Simon answered a bit tremulously. “But then what’s going to happen? And with Pete due back at any moment.”

“Why don’t we cross our bridges as we come to them?” said Jason. “Pete’s your cousin, not your lover. It might be a bit embarrassing if he turned up and caught us doing something, but he could hardly claim you’d been unfaithful to him. And you’re not a child.”

It wasn’t Jason’s reasoned argument but rather the unreasoning, not to be denied, urgency inside his scouting shorts that caused Simon to stand up just then, unbelt and then unzip those shorts, and then wrestle them (they were far too tight to slide) down his chunky blond-furred thighs. Jason watched in wonder as Simon’s big, thick dick came bouncing out of its taut captivity. Big, thick cock, a head like a pink Ping-Pong ball, shining and dripping wet, and big chunky, furry balls. His prick wasn’t especially long, Jason noticed, but who cared about that; the boy was simply beautiful and that was all there was to it.

“Come here,” Jason told him, though the instruction was hardly necessary. Without either of them seeming to move they were in each other’s arms, hugging, stroking and caressing each other’s warm tanned skin and sea-salty hair. Their cocks ground achingly together between their hot bellies. They were wetting each other with unstoppable flows of precome and tickling each other with their pubes.

Jason reached down Simon’s back and slid the blade of his hand down Simon’s soft buttock cleft. When he was certain he’d found the right place he gently fed the tip of a finger into Simon’s most private little space. “Has anyone done this with you before?” he asked softly. It wasn’t clear whether he meant explored his arse with a finger, or the whole idea of sex with another man or boy.

“Only at school,” Simon answered, as though school didn’t count, and not seeming to care exactly what the question meant either.

“School. Best place to learn,” said Jason. “That’s where I started too.”

Simon pulled back a little way from Jason; only a little, though. Just far enough to be able to see and admire his massive cock, straining upward and dispensing precome as freely as a faulty tap. Tentatively he placed his hand on it, then circled the shaft with his fingers. They didn’t quite meet around the base. Then slowly he began to move his grasping hand up to the slippery foreskinned tip and then back down again to the root. Meanwhile Jason reached for Simon’s short but sturdy pole and began to do the same. “You’re beautiful,” Simon said, and Jason answered softly, “So are you.”

“Isn’t he just,” said another voice near at hand as the boat lurched suddenly downward on one side. That caused them to spring apart with a start, though neither of them had any doubt about who the voice belonged to. There was Pete, peering at them from over the rail, just where Jason had climbed over a short time ago, dressed in T-shirt and jeans, his feet presumably still standing in the bottom of the inflatable dinghy below and out of sight. He might well have looked angry or outraged. But he didn’t. He was grinning broadly.

Pete quickly tied the dinghy to the rail and climbed aboard. A pretty substantial something was arching up inside his denims. He said to Jason, without malice, “My little cousin, with whom I’ve been aching to do what you’re doing, and you get there first! Never guessed about him, all these years. Sharing a cabin with him’s been torture. Had to wait till he was in the shower, or I was, before I could even play with myself. Now look at him, the crafty little devil!”

Simon said to him, “I wanted you all that time too. I never guessed that you…”

Pete hadn’t waited for an invitation to pull his jeans down and join in the onboard activities. Jeans were already around his tanned, muscular calves, underpants halfway down his thighs like a safety net. His cock had come soaring out of its confinement, a great, up-curving, circumcised boner that Jason realized was nearly as big as his own, now bobbing about in the aftermath of its sudden upswing. He stepped—or rather stumbled, since he had his pants down—toward the other two, and drew them both into the embrace of his arms, and then, in a second, they were all madly at work with their hands on each other’s cocks. Jason was firmly pumping Simon’s thick short one, Pete had his hand clasped round Jason’s and was hauling at its massive length till Jason’s foreskin flickered like a fluttering eye. And Simon had his own hand where he’d wanted it for years, tugging the thick curved length of Pete’s most private organ—that massive but svelte adornment that he’d never seen before.

After a minute Pete gasped, “I can’t stand up, my legs are buckling.”

“Mine too,” whispered Simon and, as one, the three of them gratefully sank to their knees on the deck, though without interrupting the flow of their piston strokes by so much as a beat. Anchored by their knees now, they found themselves helplessly jerking their crotches in and out in uncontrollable pelvic thrusts that threatened at times to pull their penises right out of the grasp of the hands that were milking them.

Simon, younger than the other two by a few years, did not surprise them when he announced quite loudly that he was going to come. “Oh, man, guys, I’m going to shoot!” The words were hardly out of his mouth before his sperm was out of his short, fat, round-headed cock. It fell heavily, a massive load, onto the deck just in front of his bare knees, with an audible plip. The sight of this was too much for the other two. Pete’s strong, fast-moving hand caused Jason’s prick to spurt out a long, white string of spunk that landed right inside Pete’s underpants, which were still stretched, net-like, between his thighs. Simon, seeing this, said, “Looks like you’ve caught a fish, Pete.” And that, in turn, proved the trigger to make Pete’s cock unload its own supply of sperm.

Perhaps Pete hadn’t come for a few days, or longer. He delivered the biggest spunk-squirt that Jason had ever seen, and one of the most energetic. It was giant water pistol time. His first, fast, upward squirt went arcing between the shoulders of the other two, and disappeared from sight behind them. Then came another, which caught Simon on the chin, and a third that made it no higher than Jason’s belly button and landed on his upper thigh, but then pearls of diminishing size kept popping out, not traveling far now before they fell to the deck, but they went on and on and on. He was helped in this by Simon, who didn’t cease or slow his frenzied strokes on his cousin’s cock after he had come himself. Simon might have been only a private masturbator before today, but he had certainly proved that he knew what to do when the time came to pump spunk with somebody else.

It took them a few moments to recover themselves. Still kneeling and naked, Jason addressed Pete, himself kneeling on his crumpled denims, his slowly deflating cock still oozing the last threads of its abundant store of come. “I’m Jason. Don’t know if you remember, but we met last night. And I’m sorry, but I seem to have shot into your underpants.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Pete said, broad-mindedly. “I don’t reckon I’ll be pulling them back up any time soon. Like any time in the next few weeks.” He grinned and jerked his head toward his young cousin. “Now that the two of us know each other a bit better.” And Simon giggled and tousled Pete’s hair.

That evening it was Jason’s turn to tell his tale to Nick and Danny in the village pub beside the beach. “They wouldn’t hear of me swimming all the way back,” he finished, “but took me in the inflatable, all three of us bollock-naked now, and dropped me near where I’d left my trunks. They headed back out to their yacht—presumably to try a few more adventurous ways of having sex together. But they said they’d see us here for a drink sometime later tonight. And—I hope you both don’t mind—I’ve told them they must come up to Wrynack Cottage and see us at home quite soon.”

“Sounds like that might be something to look forward to,” said Nick a bit archly. He took a gulp of his Badger ale. Then a smile spread slowly across his face. In through the pub doorway came his friend’s new friends. All five of them were fully dressed right now. But all of them privately thought—smiles breaking out as eyes met across the room—that that would not remain the case for long.