What you are about to read is true, mostly. The names (some of them anyway) have been changed to protect the guilty... All the places described in this story are in fact truthful and accurate. In fact, having returned there a few years ago, I found everything almost exactly as I remembered it. The hotel we stayed at all those years ago is still there, though it has been remodeled since this story takes place, I'm sure several times.
I would like to extend my grateful thanks to my friend Mike Arram for continuing to allow me to bounce ideas off him and providing many helpful suggestions as well as the encouragement that has actually gotten me this far with the stories I have written. I would also like to thank all the readers who have written with comments. I really appreciate having heard from all of you.
This story contains graphic depictions of sex between teen males, so if you're some sort of puritan or prude, you ought not to be at this site to begin with, and you certainly shouldn't read any farther into this text at all. Shoo, go away.
If you're not, which if you're now reading this sentence now, you had better not be. I hope you'll enjoy this. This story is set in a mythical place where there are no such things as STDs or deity-of-your-choice forbid HIV or AIDS, so you won't be reading anything about condoms except in this paragraph. This should not in any way be construed as advocating unsafe sex.
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Club Med Vacation Chapter Two
When I got down to the hotel's dining room at about five minutes after nine, my parents were already there. They were sitting at a table with Jake and his parents. I waved good morning at them as I walked over to where the breakfast buffet was set out. I've got to tell you, if you're used to breakfast in the U.S. or Canada; you are in for a hell of a shock if you go overseas. In the U.K. it's not too weird, though they have this funny idea about stewed tomatoes and baked beans being breakfast food. In my opinion stewed tomatoes aren't food, breakfast or otherwise. On the European continent it varies from country to country, but most are downright weird. Lots of cold cuts and sliced cheeses in a lot of places, and if you want eggs other than hard or soft boiled you are really out of luck unless you're in a place that's used to catering to Americans.
At least in Italy you get a lot of pastries too. Fresh pastries - I mean they were bringing them in from a pastry shop located right next door every ten or fifteen minutes. They were even still warm, and let me tell you, the Italians make some of the best pastries you'll ever find. I grabbed a couple of them, two hard boiled eggs, and went for an orange that I ended up finding out was blood red inside (explaining its name, which I later learned was 'blood orange'). The sliced meats and cheeses could stay and be part of someone's sandwich at lunch as far as I was concerned though. There were a lot of people who vacationed here from Scandinavian countries though, and I would learn later that they had this weird idea that this was breakfast food.
Enough about odd breakfast customs from around the world though. Jake's parents had done some research on this place, and apparently there was a lot of historic stuff here which they intended to visit. My parents were intrigued, and my mother was really interested in seeing the things Jake's mother was harping on about, so ultimately Jake's mom asked if my parents wanted to join them. These were just the kind of things that a teenager wants to see on their summer vacation, right? Well, I couldn't help it. As Jake was rolling his eyes at me, signifying his disinterest, I let out an audible groan.
My dad saved the day though; damn the man could sure pull through in a pinch. "You know," he said to my mother and Jake's parents, "when we were coming around the island on the boat, we saw some very nice beaches. I'm sure the boys would probably like to go to them more than they would see some old buildings. At least it seems that way to me."
Jake and I had slumped into our chairs when it first looked like we were about to be dragged around on a historical tour of the little archipelago at the upper end of Sardinia, but when my dad said that we both perked right back up. That we did this wasn't lost on the other three adults either.
My dad went on, "Besides, Jacob and Terry seem to be getting along very well together, and according to the hotel manager, since Terry is sixteen, I can rent him a scooter and he can drive them where they want to go."
Now Jake and I were really interested. We get to be left alone all day while they go on a historical tour and we get to explore the beaches, not to mention the fact that we would have our own transportation. This was sounding better and better to me, and from the way Jake was grinning now, it looked like he felt the same way. Things continued to look up as my mother was nodding and Jake's parents were looking at each other with expressions that seemed to say 'We'll have a better time without dragging two complaining teenagers along.'
Jake's father nodded his agreement and said that this sounded like a very good idea to him, and that seemed to settle it. Since my parents were finished with their breakfast already, my dad excused himself and got up to go see the hotel manager about arranging the scooter rental for us. By the time I was finishing up my last bit of orange, my father was back with the key to a scooter and two helmets for us. He explained that there was a blue Vespa in front of the hotel for us, and that regardless of what we saw the Italians doing, we were to wear the helmets, on our heads. (Some of the Italians we had seen riding them were actually carrying (wearing) them on their knees as they drove.) He also told us that we needed to be back and ready for dinner by seven that evening. He made a point of saying "and ready" by seven, so we knew we better be back by five thirty, six at the latest.
We agreed to his conditions, and our mothers made plans about meeting in the lobby a short time later to go on their tour of the island. Jake and I agreed to go change to get ready for the beach, get the things we were going to need for the day and meet in front of the hotel. When I got there, Jake was already sitting on the steps waiting for me, and sure enough there was the blue Vespa waiting for us as well. There wasn't a lot of traffic in this little town, which is a good thing. If you've ever been to Italy and seen the way they drive there, you know what I mean. I'll tell you this much if you haven't - Italians are probably the most patient nationality on the face of the earth, except when driving or when standing in what they (for no particular reason) call a line. Then it's a lot like chaos, only less organized.
Jake was really looking good when I saw him there on the hotel steps. Going from the ground up, which is how I checked him out, he was wearing bright, white leather tennis shoes, very short cut-off blue jean shorts (I could even make out the edges of his white briefs showing in the leg holes) and a t-shirt that was cut off about halfway up, stopping just an inch or so below his nipples. I really loved the way it showed off his stomach! Damn, but some of the late 70s fashion trends should come back. (But let's certainly not bring back polyester or leisure suits, yuck!) The way that half shirt showed off the beginning of a six-pack that he had going though, my God, I really wanted him again. That wasn't going to happen though. It just wasn't possible. What I thought had happened the night before could only be attributed to a drunken dream. There was no way all those things could have really happened, was there?
I noticed that Jake was checking me out as well. I was attired similarly in an older pair of white leather tennis shoes and very short cut off jean shorts. My t-shirt came down just to my waistline though, so there was only the occasional bit of skin showing. I had brought a small carry bag with a beach towel and sun tan lotion in it. My father had also given me a small folded map of the island that I had stuffed into a pocket of the bag. Jake was just carrying a beach towel, so we put it into my bag and got the scooter running. I put the bag on the floorboard of the scooter, between my feet, then Jake climbed on behind me and we were off. I felt Jake's hands slip under the bottom of my shirt to hold me as we rode. Damn, the feeling of his hands against my skin as we rode was seriously hot!
I drove us down the cobblestone road that ran along the coast, heading south. We rode past several beaches where other vacationers were laying out on the sand or playing in the water. Jake leaned in against me, putting his mouth right next to my ear and asked why we were riding past all the beaches. I told him that I wanted to get a better look at a beach I had seen when we were coming around the southern end of the little island we were on. What I didn't tell him was that it was in a very secluded area, and that I had used the binoculars on the boat to check it out as we passed. I had heard of nude beaches of course, but on the southern east coast of the U.S. you certainly didn't ever stand a chance of seeing one. I just hoped that I would be able to find it. I stopped for a moment to consult the map and from the looks of things; the beach I was looking for was just a little farther. It was about another quarter mile and I saw a couple cars and several mopeds and scooters parked along the side of the road next to a path that led off to where the beach should be.
I pulled the scooter in where the others were parked and shut off the engine. I grabbed my bag and we headed down the trail toward the beach. As we walked through the woods, I suddenly felt some trepidation. I had certainly never been to a nude beach before, how was I going to react, you know - down there? And how was Jake going to react when he saw it was a nudie beach?
We walked out onto the beach about two minutes later, and sure enough, I'd found the right place. Now, not everyone was naked, but most certainly were. I had been right to be concerned about how my dick was going to react, because it sure was starting to.
Jake's reaction was better than I'd hoped for though. "Oh COOL!" he exclaimed as we walked out onto the smooth, white sand. "There's one of these not too far from where I live," he told me as he kicked off his shoes.
'Damn, California must be a lot more fun than South Carolina,' I thought.
"So you've been to one before?" I asked him.
"Sure," he answered as he peeled off his shirt and unfastened the button on his shorts. "All the time, haven't you?"
"No," I told him. "There's nothing like this in South Carolina. So, are you really going to um... go naked?"
"Sure, why not? Look at all them doing it," he said as he waved his hand, indicating all the other people on the beach. "Besides, it's not like I haven't done it before. Come on, it feels great. Besides, we've already seen all of what each other have."
There it was - a confirmation that what had happened last night was real, not just a drunken dream.
I dropped my bag on the sand and pulled my t-shirt over my head as I kicked my shoes off. By the time I had dropped it on the sand Jake was pushing his tight little shorts down his legs. The contrast between the bright white of his briefs and his dark brown skin was amazing. But then it was gone, and there he was in all his glory. I was having trouble believing that he could be so bold - even though I had been the one who brought him here.
Jake dropped his briefs on top of his other clothes and knelt to open my bag to get our towels out. When he had finished spreading them both out on the sand he looked up at me. I was still standing there looking down at him sort of dumbfounded with my mouth hanging open. "Aren't you going to get undressed?" he asked me. "Or do I need to help you again?" There it was again - more confirmation that we really had done all those things last night in my room at the hotel. What would today have in store for us though?
"No, I don't think that would be such a good idea here," I told him. "Besides, I'm kind of, um, it might just be a little embarrassing right now though." I was referring to the fact that I was about half hard of course.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "It happens. Just get undressed and come in the water with me, that should help your, um, problem."
'What the hell?' I thought. 'If he can do it, I can...' And with that I opened the button and zipper on my shorts, then pushed them both down together, fully expecting someone on the beach to point at me and laugh about my condition. As I looked around though, I noticed that there were a few other guys on the beach who were sharing my problem. One of them was even about my dad's age, but the others who were having the same problem were about the same age as Jake and me. There were also a couple kids who looked to be brothers around eight and ten years old who were fully hard building a sand castle and it didn't seem to be bothering them that they were.
As soon as I had stepped out of my shorts and briefs Jake grabbed my hand and pulled me with him toward the water. We splashed into the water together, laughing. The water of the Mediterranean was warm, and there was a definitely unusual sensation being naked in the water - something stimulating. Jake didn't stop pulling me along with him until we were up to our chests in the water. He didn't let go of my hand though as he turned to face me. Then I felt his other hand cupping my balls. Between the warmth of the water, the stimulating feeling of being out here with only the water covering my body and now, Jake's hand gently squeezing and massaging my balls there was no way my um, problem was going to go away.
"Um, Jake," I started, "that isn't exactly helping."
"If you cum though, you'll go soft," he told me.
"Nice theory," I informed him. "I can get hard again pretty quick after I cum."
"Yeah," he laughed. "Me too, I guess it's something about being a teenager. It can't hurt to try though."
"But we're out here in front of all these people," I protested.
Jake turned me so that my back was toward the shore and he was facing it. "No one can see what I'm doing," he said as he scanned the beach with his eyes. Then I felt his hand move to my shaft. This was really going to get me far harder, but at the moment it seemed like that was Jake's goal. I went along with it though. What the hell, it did feel good, and as far as I could tell no one could tell what we were doing. I decided to just go with it and surrendered to the feelings Jake was giving me.
If anyone were watching us, I was sure that it had to be obvious to them what he was doing to me, especially when his hand released mine and went to help the other one that was bringing me closer and closer to orgasm. I could tell I wasn't far off now, and even though I couldn't tell if anyone could tell what we were doing out the in the water or not, and in spite of Jake's assurances, I was still worried. That wasn't about to stop my orgasm though, and it wasn't far off.
Then Jake whispered, "Just pretend that your dick is in my ass like it was last night." That was the final confirmation that I did remember what happened the night before accurately. Damn, this was definitely not the normal family vacation that I was used to. I succumbed to the feelings Jake was giving me and as I started to cum, my knees went out from underneath me. I was smart enough to take a breath before I collapsed into the water, and I swear the next thing I felt was Jake pulling me in toward the shore. By the time he got me there I was definitely drained in more ways than one.
Comments and feedback are welcomed at t_macd@comcast.net. Flamers will be ignored by me, but will meet with an untimely and horrible demise as the result of the curse of the old gypsy woman who lives across the lake from me, and has inexplicably taken a liking to me. Anger her at your own risk.
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