The activities guy - part 5

My relationship with Graeme began as friendship - two single guys with much in common, especially sport and keeping fit - and it continued much the same way - in friendship, but a friendship that also extended to sex and deep affection.

Graeme still had just over a month before his posting would end. By late January, the Holiday Youth Activities Program would finish and the kids he worked with would return to the small local primary school or head south to boarding schools in Perth.

We continued to spend almost all our leisure time together - the endless tennis matches, aerobics sessions, golf, swimming, running, etc continued. Working hours (for those not working Production shifts) were generally 7am to 3.30pm, Monday to Friday, so we had ample leisure time.

Nearly every weekend, Graeme and I went out in my boat. We usually camped out on one of the many uninhabited islands in the region, but sometimes we lay at anchor in some small coastal inlet and slept on the V-shaped bed down below.

We would water-ski for miles and occasionally stop to rock-climb and seek out a fresh-water lagoon to laze in. As it was the Wet Season, we were able to ascend the underside of waterfalls and revel in the cool spray.

Such activities were still the mainstay of our friendship, but it's pointless to pretend we didn't enthusiastically embrace the new dimension - sex. It wasn't our primary activity but we certainly wasted few opportunities to practise.

Many times, when we were well away from land, Graeme's head would be in my lap as he sucked me off while I drove. Other times it would be me giving him a head job while he steered. Once out to sea, we would shuck off all our clothes - who needed them? - and spend the entire weekend like natives in some primitive paradise.

We had sex in the little cabin below deck, we had sex in my two-man tent on tiny, remote islands - where the only sounds at night came from waves lapping at the beach and the scraping noises of hermit crabs as they cleaned off the barbecue plate outside - and we once had sex in the turgid rockpool at the foot of a waterfall.

There was no discussion about roles. From the first, it was obvious that Graeme loved being fucked and had no desire to reverse positions. And, again from the first, I found his to be a magnificent arse - tight and welcoming - and I grew to love putting my tongue and fingers in there almost as much as I enjoyed the fucking.

Being young - just nineteen and almost twenty-three - there never seemed to be a time when we weren't both up for it. And it was never mechanical or routine. I never entered him without exquisite pleasure and a sense of wonder, and we both enjoyed sucking each other off and then sharing cum-spiced kisses.

Looking back, it is curious that I never once felt I was donning some new mantle, that I was "being gay". Obviously, we didn't go around boasting about the sexual side of our friendship, but I don't think either of us ever felt guilty or ashamed either. We were doing what seemed to come naturally and we were hurting no-one else. Neither of us was honour-bound to remain "faithful" to the most recent girlfriend down south. And, it seemed to me, neither of us planned to embrace a gay lifestyle once this idyll was over.

Certainly we never spoke of maintaining contact in the future or, God forbid, one day setting up house together. Graeme was returning to continue his PhysEd degree at University and I was focused on furthering my career and completing a combined Law/Psychlogy degree over the next year or two.

While writing this account of that amazing summer, I have returned to the photograph albums I put together at that time. I have provided scant description of our appearance thus far and, when I look at the old photos, it surprises me to see how beautiful we are!

Neither of us had bulging pecs or a classic, broad-shouldered, V-shaped torso. But we were lean and carried not an ounce of fat. I'm just over 6'2" tall, fair-skinned (but quick to tan), blond-haired and blue-eyed and my weight has seldom gone above 160 pounds over the years. Graeme was shorter - about 5'9" - with dark brown hair, brown eyes and an olive complexion, and he would have weighed around 145 pounds dripping wet!

We are naked in many of the photographs and looking incredibly tanned and fit - almost invincible. My children have browsed through all my old albums and, of course, asked "What's with the nudity thing?" I have been able to reply, with complete honesty, that most boat-owners gave up clothing when out for a prolonged trip. Clothes were just an encumbrance, being uncomfortable when wet and then chafing you when they dried all salty and crusty.

My children saw little to differentiate Graeme's image from the other naked island-hoppers in my album, but for me he leaps out of the page and fills me with a warm glow of reminiscence. I have pointed him out as being my best mate and deck-hand one summer and told the kids of our many adventures missing tides, losing anchors or being surrounded by inquisitive crocodiles. My eldest daughter's comment startled me the most. "Dad" she said "You were an absolute spunk!" I had to laugh. When I look at the photos today, I realise she's right!

When Graeme's tour of duty ended, I arranged to take a week's leave and, before he headed back south to Perth, we flew together to Darwin, capital of Australia's Northern Territory - somewhat of a last frontier town that looks toward Papua New Guinea and Indonesia.

We took a large hotel room with two Queen-size beds in it. We drank far too much, spent hours in the hotel pool (too many crocs around Darwin to risk swimming in the sea!) and, of course, we shared a bed every night

We gave the beds a thorough road-test but, for our last night, perhaps signalling a return to normalcy, we agreed to hire two prostitutes for the night and fuck them senseless. We rang around and a problem emerged - we had only sufficient cash to hire one girl. Eventually, however, we found a lady within our price-range who was willing to go two-on-one, and neither Graeme nor I considered this to be anything other than an additional turn-on!

Can't recall her name, but she was slim and attractive, around twenty-five or maybe a little older. She arrived at our door just after sundown. We handed over the money, she rang her agency to report that all was well and then we all undressed, left the light on and hit the bed.

Graeme wanted me to go first. Knowing that he could be quick on the trigger, my preference would have been for him to go first. Anyway, I did go first. Missionary position. A nice shaved pussy with good muscle tone but I knew it would take me a while to cum, maybe so long that Graeme would shoot his bolt just waiting and watching. So I faked orgasm and withdrew.

Graeme took my place. Missionary again. It was an unreal experience to watch, right up close, my friend's cock go in and out of this woman's cunt. Once he had shot his load, I vividly recall watching him withdraw, still erect, shaft glistening with her body fluids and with a bead of cum oozing from the eye of his dick.

I then went down for some advanced pussy-licking and captured much of Graeme's cum as it seeped out of her. By this time - we were very young and fit, remember - both Graeme and I were ready for more. I asked if she would let us do a double penetration - something I'd never done before (or since, for that matter) - and she agreed as long as we took it easy.

So she lowered herself onto my cock, on her knees and facing me. Then Graeme entered her arse from behind, doggy style, It was a mind-blowing sensation. Just a membrane or so away from my own cock, I could feel Graeme's thrusting back and forward in her butt as his balls slapped against my own. I knew I wouldn't even need to move in order to cum. It was as if his cock was giving mine a deep massage on its underside and I felt I'd arrived in some sort of velvet heaven. Once his moves became more urgent and his breathing more laboured, I blew my cum deep inside her cunt just as he gushed into her arse.

And that was that. We'd certainly had a great time and received good value for the money we'd scraped together! This shared activity formed a punctuation mark in my relationship with Graeme. Like a full-stop. He had an early flight out the next morning and I would be catching a plane myself soon afterwards. We fell asleep exhausted.

We did kiss that last morning before he left for the airport - not a passionate kiss, but a lingering, affectionate one that had so many nuances - like thank you, I care about you, and I'll probably never see you again but that's OK because I'll never forget you. There was no sadness. We were practical, pragmatic about this - without much discussion, we knew our summer "madness" would never be repeated with each other and could never come anywhere near to being repeated with anyone else.

And, essentially, that's what came to pass. Well ... almost. But I can't just leave it at that. There is still an epilogue to be written.

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