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Sailing Away
By
Robert Reams©


It all began at my eighteenth birthday party. My parents just would not believe that I was through with all that juvenile 'birthday' stuff, so I had to endure one more embarrassing round of phony smiles and worthless gifts from all my parents' family and friends. I am, I have learned since, a fairly attractive guy. Short, about 5'7" and slim but not too skinny, blond, with sparkling blue eyes and a captivating smile that makes me look even younger than I am.

My situation was somewhat unique. I had been going to college for over two years on a special program for 'gifted' individuals. That was fine and I loved it, but I had no friends and no social life. (Well, being a book nerd, I never did have much of a social life.) I had not come out to family and friends, even though I was fairly certain I was gay. Having never had real sex, there was no way I could know for certain. I did know that I loved the sight of a good hard man and a good hard dick. But then, pictures of sex acts and naked women in mags like Hustler, really turned me on too, so confusion reigned in my life. Technically I was still a virgin, not counting fooling around with a couple friends in boy scout tents. (Mutual masturbation and one quick taste of cum.)

Well, anyway, as I was saying. It was my birthday. A lame party. family. Friends. One of my mom's friends had put together a jazz quartet to play. It was unfamiliar sounds, but I was drawn to the dissonant quality which seemed to fit my life. It was getting late, close to midnight and things were winding down. Dad, of course, was passed out on a chair somewhere, probably pissing himself. Mom had long-since retired for the night. I was hanging out near where the band was set up, loitering and taking in the melodious sounds. Earlier I had noticed the sax player; he was tall, maybe six four and big, but not heavy, perhaps 200 pounds. He was firmly muscled in all the right places, but not the bulging weightlifter kind. I watched his deep brown eyes, his lips caressing the reed of his instrument, the dark shock of hair that danced around his forehead as he closed his eyes investing his entire being in the music. There was a touch of gray at his temples that made it hard to judge his age, but I was going with forty. It surprised me that I was attracted to a man so 'old', but there was something about him, something about the languid, self-assured way he moved his body, and about the way he filled his worn jeans.

I had noticed earlier that he was checking me out, or at least that's what I thought. I was way too shy to approach him, so I merely watched. I began to fantasize about those sensitive hands touching me, those lips. . . 

The song, a jazzed up version of Sweet Home Chicago, ended on a long trill and the band began to put up their instruments. The saxophonist looked my way and caught me staring at him. To my extreme embarrassment, he ambled toward me. I felt like running away, but that would have been even more ridiculous. I was frozen in place. "Hi," he said, his voice deep and resonant, "I am Lance. Lance Armstrong. You must be the birthday boy." 

"Yeah, uh, er Neal, uh er Scott."

Lance put out his hand as if to shake. Mine was trembling as I put it in his. His hands were fine and elegant, like those of piano player, yet firm, large and masculine. Did his touch linger just a bit too long? Or was it wishful thinking? "I really love your playing. I never was much into jazz, but then I 

never much heard any either. I like the, uh, I don't know what to call it. Dissonance is the word I used in my mind."

Lance laughed softly. "You are right. Anyone who knows music will tell you that dissonance, and that is exactly the right word, is the heart and soul of jazz. Listen, Neal, can I buy you a drink?"

"Well, I , er that is, I don't drink much and, er, oh hell, I am not old enough to drink."

"Well, Neal, How old are you?"

"I am eighteen today."

"Come," Lance said simply, gesturing with his hand, and I did not hesitate. He parked us at a corner table near the fireplace and went to the bar. He returned with two glasses of amber liquid on ice, which I learned on inquiry was called B&B.

We sat and sipped and talked. Lance, I learned was only 34. He said he was an executive with an important corporation, but was independently wealthy. He had three main passions in life, he told me: jazz, sailing, and romance.

I shared with him my love and expertise with literature, especially nineteenth century literature, explaining that I hoped to become a university professor and consultant to libraries.

"Isn't that a dying thing, he wanted to know? Books, you know aren't they becoming obsolete?"

"Not if I can help it! Part of what I do is to insure that truly great books are preserved electronically, so that even if there is no market for them right now, even if no one is reading them right now, they will be there for future generations to enjoy and learn from. You see," I told him. "I am kind of a computer geek, too. I helped develop the software that can read a book and convert it to digital form. Otherwise some geek would have to encode the whole book, letter by letter."

"I heard that you are in your third year at the university, and now you tell me you are only eighteen. You must be a kind of genius, then."

"A 'protege' is what they always say, but sometimes I get sick of it. The demands to produce, to excel, are severe, and well, even with the scholarships, I never have any money. Sometimes I wish I had a job at a car wash or something, like a normal k**."

'Well if you ask me, you are anything but normal. Believe me, you don't want to be normal. That would be a big step backward for you."

"Thanks. I think."

"So when do you have to go back to school?"

"Not for another two weeks."

"Neal, I just thought of something. How would you like to go sailing?"

"Sailing?"

"Yeah, listen, down at the marina I have a sloop, a thirty-two footer. I'm here to tell you, once you've been. . . out. . . there, clipping along at a good pace, climbing the waves with the spray breaking over your face, mastering the wind and the sky and the sea. I'm telling ya. There's nothing like it. Nothing!" His face glowed with the fervor of a lover. I was really getting into this man. I wondered if this level of intensity flavored his “romantic” endeavors.

"But I don't know anything about sailing. I am not athletic or anything. Why? Why would you ask me? Can I ask you a very personal question?"

"Sure Neal, in fact, I will promise you right now that I will always tell you the truth if you ask me anything."

"Are you, uh... er... uh..you know,"

"Gay?"

"Yeah, that."

"Well Neal, I have made love in my time to both men and women and I am not sure I could tell you which I prefer. Each is a totally separate thing, whole and complete unto itself. And each and every person with whom I have made love, is a unique and precious individual. Are you?"

"You mean unique and precious?"

Laughing loudly, "No I already know that. I meant Are you Gay?"

I was blushing so heavily that I could feel heat at the roots of my hair as I tried to describe the ambiguity of my current orientation. I was already telling this man more, opening more than I had ever opened myself to anyone. Dare I tell him that I was yet a virgin? "Uh, I don't know," I finally murmured.

"You don't know if you are gay? How can that be?"

"Well, if you're gonna be like that," I accused, jumping up and beginning to move away.

He grabbed my arm at the elbow, preventing my escape. Despite my display of umbrage, I liked the feel of his strong hands restraining me, was momentarily taken aback.

"Wait, wait! Don't go! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I wasn't making fun. It really was an honest question."

I looked down at him, suffused with confusion and shame. Those eyes caught mine. Dark and deep, almost black. Like deep pits one could fall into and never return. "Stay! Please?"

"Uh, er, uh, Okay," I stammered, sitting, nearly falling back into my chair. Trying to look away. Finally looking down.

"You needn't ever be afraid or ashamed to tell me anything. You can trust me completely. Do
you believe me? Neal. Look at me. Do you believe me?" As he asked for my total trust, he had placed his hand on my naked forearm. The fine blond hairs stood up on my arms and on the back of my neck at the electricity of his touch. No one's touch had ever affected me in such a way. Who was this strange and compelling man who, 'made love to men and women', and asked for my total trust at our first meeting? I can't say, even now, what force drove me to surrender that trust, but I decided to do so. Whatever happened later, it was at that single moment I decided inside my deepest self I would always say yes to this man, I would throw myself into whatever he brought my way. "I don't know if I am gay because I am the opposite of you. I have never made love to anyone. I find myself attracted to boys sometimes, but I am turned on by pictures, uh, you know, er, uh, of women, like in magazines and stuff. But with my strange life, not being in regular school with k**s my age, I never had a chance to be with anyone." I felt immeasurably sad at this declaration, though I had never viewed myself that way before. Was I a total loser?

"Neal," Lance had said, "For god's sake, don't be ashamed of being a virgin. That's certainly not anything to be ashamed of. And as for the confusion, I remember it well when I was the same age as you. Perhaps you will never know your true self. Perhaps you will be on a life-long quest to discover yourself, as I am, as perhaps we all are. Maybe you are like me. I call myself ambisexual, but I hate putting labels and limitations on people, especially on myself. I am what I am and I like what I am. Some day I hope you can make that statement about yourself, too, though I sense you are not yet there." As he spoke he moved his hand from my forearm to my hand, so we were effectively holding hands across the table. Somehow that did not seem to matter, that I was holding hands with a man. Somehow it felt comfortable and natural to feel the warmth of his touch.

We talked for a long time that night. Everyone else had gone, except the club manager. We sat in a pool of light in our little corner of the darkened world. I will ever mark it as the night I became a man. That I had turned eighteen was incidental. That I had met a man who treated me as a man, that was significant!

He left me that night with his business card. On the back he had written the address of the marina where his yacht was moored and an invitation to sail with him on Sunday.

That night I slept little. My mind, my heart was filled with inchoate images of his eyes and his firm body, that errant curl in the middle of is forehead. My little dick was hard most of the night, but I did not, for some reason, resort to my usual relief of a quick 2 or 3 minute jack off. Perhaps I though this encounter rated more than that. The next day, as I went about my business, I felt a strange and liberated sense of myself. I no longer looked on my mother and father in the same way. My parent's house seemed smaller than it had the day before, their conversation meaningless. I seemed astonished and in awe of the life that roiled around me. Had things always been so bright, so alive? I felt strangely confident with myself as I had never been before. Through it all, I mulled continuously about the invitation. Did I really trust this man I had never met before? Would I actually commit myself to being alone with him on the open ocean, trapped on a small boat? What would he expect of me? More importantly what did I or didn't I expect of him? One thing was certain, I was going sailing.

My party had been on Monday night, our sail was to be on Sunday. In the five days that intervened, I went about in a daze. My sister and my parents could scarcely communicate without shaking me out of my reveries. All sorts of images, physical and sexual, played through my mind. If I went, put my trust in Lance, would he seduce me, hmm maybe? That would imply at least a degree of compliance. **** me and toss my body into the sea? I didn't think so. Or would we merely have a pleasant day sailing on the sea? That he was literally twice my age, oddly mattered not at all to me. Was he like a p*******e, bent on corrupting the young? Why had he chosen me? Doubts filled me. But exhilaration hung on me throughout the week. I felt as if I were about to embark on a glorious adventure, a quest to find Neal. Somehow deep in me I knew that if I took this sail, it would be a voyage of discovery, from which I never would return to the safe shores of my present circumstances.

By Saturday I had resolved to trust, to take the plunge, to seize the day and take whatever came my way. In a sense I was trusting and confident that whatever happened on the sail, the voyage, I would be better, richer, more myself from having taken that voyage, sailed down that road not taken.

At nine A.M. the next day I found myself at the Midfield Yacht Club. I was meeting an important and rich man, so I had worn my best pink Van Heusen dress shirt, black slacks, a tweed sports coat and highly shined dress shoes. I hadn't known that there would be security, but I presented Lance's card to the security guard who opened the gate and directed me to the "Knot 4 Sale", Lance's vessel. It was so big it looked like a ship to me, but the biggest boat I had ever been on was a canoe. I stood there on the dock for several minutes. I am sure that I looked like the greenhorn I was, mouth agape as if to catch minnows, until lance strode up behind me and touched me gently on the shoulder. Even so, I nearly jumped into the harbor.

It was like meeting some secret agent or movie star. He was so good looking, so self assured and strong. Any second I expected him to say, "Bond, James Bond".

Laughing, Lance took my hand in both of his. "Welcome. Welcome Neal to my humble skiff. Let me have a look at you. Hmm. This will not do. This will not do at all. My fault, my fault entirely. I should have instructed you on how to dress at sea. Hmm. Neal. Would you allow me to buy you a few things, to dress you for safety and comfort on our little excursion?"

"What's wrong with the way I am dressed?"

"Don't be embarrassed. As I said, I should have told you. But those clothes, attractive as you are in them, as nicely as you fill those slacks out, they are just not going to be right for sailing. And those shoes. Dress leather shoes? I will be constantly plucking you from the ocean."

"Er, uh, what did you have in mind? I don't have much money and I wouldn't feel right, your paying for my clothes. It would be kind of strange and awkward, you dressing me. I have been buying my own clothes for a long time."

"Listen, Neal, you said you would trust me, right? It would give me true pleasure to outfit you in suitable clothes for sailing. It would be a sort of adventure for me. Like having a son or lover. And, listen, money is nothing. I have been very fortunate and have more than I could ever use in five lifetimes. Another thing. If I outfit you for sailing, if you let me, it would be like your saying that you will come again, because you'll already have the clothes. See, you are really helping me. Won't you please let me do this for you? No, not for you, for me, as a favor. Please. Otherwise we would have to cancel, or I would have to take you home to change."

After all that pleading I could scarce refuse. In a moment he was on his cell and a few minutes later, a gleaming pearl gray Jaguar F-Type was pulled up to the gate. 

"Hop in, don't be shy."

"Wow, I'm impressed."

"Maybe I'll buy you one," laughing loudly.

"Now just wait a minute!"

"Just teasing, Lance said, still laughing lightly. You like it?"

"Man oh Man!"

"Yup, that's my baby," he chuckled, running through the gears, pulling smoothly into traffic.

At the store, he had chosen Abercrombies, we were treated like royalty. Lance waved his hand and a salesperson appeared. Lance spoke with him for a moment and he returned with some items. I tried them all on. For a few moments I was afraid he would have me model the clothes for him, but he didn't. I had half suspected he would follow me into or sit in the dressing room and ogle me, but he did none of those things, he merely guided me to the proper choices. In the end I was dressed in fine fashion for sailing, White cotton shorts, a white polo, a soft wool blend sweater, knotted by its arms around my neck, and white cotton socks in Gill deck shoes. He wouldn't let me see the bill.

"Hmm, one more thing, I think," Lance said, taking me lightly by the arm and guiding me to a rack of designer sun glasses. Again I felt that odd sensation as his hands touched my naked arm, not an electric shock like static electricity, but more of a flowing energy that spread from the touched spot through my body. These were the first items I had seen in the store with a price on them. The cheapest pair were $125. Lance gestured for me to pick. Finally, I got into the spirit and went through about twenty pair 'til I chose a pair I thought were perfect. I caught my reflection on the way out and thought I looked like one of those people I had always envied. But I had to admit, I looked attractive, even to me.

Back in the Jag, lance glanced over at me and grinned. "Not that you weren't attractive before, but, now you are really looking delicious!"

Odd choice of words I thought, was he about to eat me. My ears reddened and my scalp got hot. I tried to regain my aplomb. "Well, thank you. And thanks for all this, too," I said gesturing to the new clothes.

"No sweat, buddy." I found the more we were together, the more often he would call me 'buddy'. Back at the marina, he left his car running, tossed the keys to a valet, and we went through his club to the dock, avoiding the gate and guard. I could not believe the size and luxury of his 'little' sloop. He guided me on board then pointed. "Stand there by that davit, would you? When I yell from the bow toss the line ashore, okay?"

"Okay, can do."

After a minute his voice came from up front. "Cast off, buddy!"

That done, he came to me and guided me, one hand lightly on the small of my back. "This," he instructed, "is the cockpit." I could not quite tell if there was a touch of humor in his voice as he 
pronounced the name of the place from which the boat is steered. He sat behind the wheel, bade me sit next to him and fired up the engines with a roar. He began to guide us out of the channel, he standing as he manned the helm and I sitting beside him. My face was on a level with his crotch, only about one foot away and I could not help but notice that he filled out the front of his white shorts quite nicely. My own equipment stirred slightly and I silently cursed at 'the monster' to behave, as we passed the huge water crib marking the end of the channel, he made an adjustment in direction, then sat and slid over, taking one of my hands and putting it on the helm. "Here, you take over," Lance said, natural as can be.

"Uh. . . er. . . Wait a second. I . . . er. . . I can't drive a boat. I don't know what I am doing. I'll wreck us!"

"Neal, take it easy. You see anything out here to run into? Just put your hands on the wheel and, see that? That is the compass. Right now it says our course is 105 just keep your hands on the helm, that's sailing talk for the steering wheel, and try to keep the needle pointing to 105. Got it? I am going below to get us some snacks and drinks, I'll be back in a few minutes, remember, one zero five." And with that meager lesson, he left me and went below.

He was gone probably no longer than ten minutes, but in that time I learned that the mistake I most often made was over-steering, for in the light breeze and minor swells, and at slow speeds, it took very little effort to keep the large vessel on course. Standing there in my new, expensive sailing outfit, the wind ruffling my flowing blond hair, I felt urbane and sophisticated, and a little powerful.


Lance returned with a tray on which there were a variety of goodies, including my first taste of caviar, (very fishy and very salty) a good soft Camembert, some small slices of imported rye, and the best little ultra thin slices of some sort of ham I could not identify, but loved the taste of.

We drank champagne with the vittles and got to know one another. We talked of his work and my work. From time to time as we chatted, he would reach to touch my hand or arm, and once my bare knee. He seemed very interested and asked about my literary favorites. We followed the meal with bits of mixed berries, melon, and other fruit. As we ate, we talked more. Or mostly, lance talked to me and I answered with uneducated grunts.

"When we finish our victuals and get out a bit farther, we'll put up the sails. That's when the fun begins. Since there are only the two of us, you will be the crew and I will be the captain. We'll give it a run through first and then go to it. On a modern boat with electric winches and all it is really pretty easy. Two things you need to know right away. Once the sails are up, never move around the boat without a tether. That will be like a rope around your waist with a clip on it. This," showing me, " is the lifeline. When you move around the boat in bad weather or under full sail, always clip yourself to the life line then unclip for a second, move to the next section of lifeline, then hook up again, like this, see. Second, watch out for the boom. See that large pole there with all the canvas rolled up on it. Well when we operate the winch, it will pull all that sail up to the top of the mast, up there," pointing, " when the ship tacks quickly, that's turns fast in lay terms, the boom will swing from one side to the other. If you are not paying attention, it will clobber you and dump you in the sea, maybe knock you out!"

I was feeling totally inadequate and a bit frightened, but Lance reassured me. "Since we aren't really going anywhere and the wind is pretty steady, the only reason to tack is to keep abreast of any large swells that might develop. So don't worry. Trust me, you are going to love this.

Engines off, sails unfurled, winching, hauling, cleatting done, and the boat on auto pilot to maintain our course, Lance called to me from the bow. "Hook up to the lifeline and come forward to me." I complied. I had had no idea such a large boat would tilt so far when making way under sail. The deck was very slanted and difficult to walk on, not to mention bouncing up and down on the waves, and I moved forward cautiously, very glad to have my new deck shoes,

Once in the bow, I spied Lance standing at the very front of the boat. The wind blew his hair back from his fine features, and salt spray flung itself in his face every few seconds. He looked like the mast head of some ancient Pirate ship. There was a gleam in his eye like dark fire. He leaned toward me, keeping one hand on the lifeline, and reached out his hand. I disconnected from the lifeline and reached toward him. He pulled hard and I lurched forward into his arms. He maneuvered me in front of him and we moved out about three feet into a little roped off area in front I was soon to learn was called the 'pulpit'. He held me against him, one arm crooked around my body from armpit to waist, the other behind him, hopefully clinging to the headline. The boat leaned strongly to one side and the bow rose and fell about three feet with each wave we crested. Held there in his arm, against his powerful body, I felt no fear. My trust in Lance in that regard, was total. I had never felt so excited, so exhilarated I my life. Every few seconds, a wave would crash over the bow, dousing us with cold salt spray, and each dousing was a new baptism. Stretched out ahead of us, a golden highway lay upon the sea, beckoning us to sail away into the sun. I felt so free and perfect. Still holding onto Lance's arm with one of mine, I reached behind me to touch him, to try to convey to him the depth of my feeling, to communicate how important this moment had become to me. Lance surprised me by kissing the palm of my hand with the softest merest touch of his lips on my palm. I gasped at the intensity of the current that shot through me. I closed my eyes and lay back easily against his strong body, trying to melt into him. He slipped my forefinger between his lips and began to lick and suck it. I clearly felt the rising hardness of his manhood behind me, pressing against me, not with any urgency, but as if to make a simple statement: "I am Here!"

It is impossible to determine how long we stood there, faces into the wind, our bodies pressed together, but soon proper control of the vessel took precedence over our mutual joy. We returned to the cockpit and sat beside one another. But now a subtle change had come over our relationship. Either we were on the verge of something heavier, something deeper, or we would return to shore, happier and wiser, but separate. My skin tingled all over as if some magic lotion or tonic had been applied.

"Why did you do that to my hand, my fingers?" I asked.

"Did you not like it? Are you disgusted with me?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. I am just afraid that you. . . you. . .I don't know. You might. . . "

"Seduce you? Make love to you? Well, I might. I think that mostly depends on what you decide. Do you want me to take you back, take you home? I will if that's what you want."

"No," I answered perhaps too quickly. "Er. . . that is. No I don't want to go back, don't want this, this time, our time to end, I want to be with you, but. . . I. . . that is. . . I don't know what else I do want, where I want this, us, to go."

"Well," Lance said. "Why don't we just see what comes natural to both of us, enjoy a day at sea and take it from there. I say again, at this point anything that happened would be up to you."

"Up to me? Why up to me?"

"Well, I decided that night at your party that I wanted us to be together, to be with you, get to know you. I like you very much and find myself very attracted to you. So naturally I would try to seduce you. But you always retain the right to say no to anything."

"You promised that night to always tell me the truth, you remember?"

"Oh yes, I remember."

"Will you tell me the truth now?"

"Now and always."

"Did you bring me out here to, er, to.. . You know, to have sex with me?"

"I want to be very careful to answer you in such a way that I don't break my bond of trust with you at the same time that I remain honest and true to myself. Yes, I was extremely attracted to you at once, wanted to 'have sex' with you as soon as I saw you, but my motives in asking you to sail were more than that. Did I bring you out her because there was no escape, out here in the middle of the ocean? No! I brought you out here because I wanted to share the excitement and joy that sailing brings me. I am quite a bit older than you, in fact, nearly twice your age, so it feels strange, makes me feel a bit like a p*******e even having you here. I almost didn't ask you. That's why it has to be you who decides. But in all sincerity, for me this is the way it works.

I look on this little journey as a kind of date. When you, that is when I, ask someone on a date, there is always the hope, the possibility that we will hit it off and share sex, love making, I call it. And that we might even get closer than that, establish a relationship that goes deeper. Aren't we all looking for that, for deeper connections, for that one person, our 'soul mate' to share our lives with. So yes, I brought you out here in the hopes that we might make love, but only as a part of a deeper, more meaningful way of making a bond, a relationship between us. You might be that one person, that match to my soul. But how would I know, how would you know if I never tried. So I asked you, hoping you would agree. And here you are.

"I am easy and comfortable," lance continued. "Maybe you'll make love with me today, tonight. If you grow to love sailing as much as I, maybe we will make love on the tenth date, maybe the fiftieth, maybe never. As I said, that's entirely up to you. I know this is kind of a long-winded answer to a simple question, but I like to try to be clear." I was about to speak, but Lance held up his hand. "One thing you can be sure of. I might try anything, but 'no' is still 'no'. I will apply all my seduction techniques try my damnedest to turn you on to me, because it is what I do, how I live, how I love, but If at any time you want me to stop trying, to stop anything. All you have to do is say 'no'."

"Listen, Lance, this is all a bit much for me. I know you mean well, but I, well I . I don't know anything. Even if I wanted to say yes to you, I wouldn't know what I was agreeing to. It's all so new to me. I have never been on a date with a girl, let alone a man. You, you, you are. . . are. . . the most interesting and exciting person I have ever met. By far. I. . . I. . . Listen to how I am stuttering. I can't even form a coherent thought when I am this close to you. I am extremely attracted to you. When we were up in the bow, when I was, er. . . in. . your arms, I felt so safe, so secure, but also extremely excited. The sea, the spray, the sunlight, well. . . you know. At that moment, I was not at all afraid of you, afraid of what you might do to me. I knew you wouldn't attack me, wouldn't hurt or **** me. But I was, er, uh. . . am afraid of what might happen next, because I never, you know, er.. have, uh, er, done anything at all. Also, I, er, well. I am afraid to, to take that step, any step. Remember what you said about not being defined. Well, I am kind of afraid of that, too. I don't think I want to be gay, don't even really know what that means. Am I deciding that today, I, uh, I. . .

"Neal," Lance stopped me, grasping me on both biceps, "Everything is cool. Take it easy. I will take it as slow as you like. Meanwhile, let's just enjoy our little adventure." As he said these words, he placed his open hand on my face tenderly, the most intimate gesture I had felt up to then. "Can I get you some more champagne, or anything else?"

"Do you ave a pop, something non-alcoholic?"

"Of course, Coke, Pepsi, Limonada."

"What's leemonahda?"

"It is the kind of soda that they drink in Greece. It tastes like lemonade, a little, but a bit resiny, like just about everything Greek, but it is carbonated. I picked up a few cases the last time I was over there."

"Could I try that?"

"Commin' right up. Take the helm."

"Aye, aye captain." At that we both laughed.

"That's right, Lance said. I am the captain, the law at sea. You must obey me out here."

"See I told you you brought me out her to take advantage of me. You can do anything you want and I have to say, 'aye,aye, captain'." More laughter.

I absolutely loved the limonada , so tart, so unlike sicky-sweet American soft drinks, and so refreshing. After our drinks, Lance showed me more about guiding a ship, about having to keep her head into the wind, about 'tacking' to change direction, how to 'spill' wind from the sails. I was becoming more and more used to his hands on me, for as we moved about, they were ever present. A slight touch on the shoulder. A momentary pat on the knee or thigh. And that gesture. From time to time he would touch my face tenderly and look directly into my eyes, into the depth of me, and something hard inside me would melt a bit and turn to water. 

I knew what he was trying to do, I knew he was trying to get me used to his touch so he could. . .what? I didn't know, but was starting not to care. Each time his hands touched me, I longed for him to touch me again. I felt a strong urge to touch him back, touch him there, put my hand on that obvious bulge at the front of his white shorts, but there was no way I could do that. If I did, how would he respond? And where would it go from there. Would I find myself under his heavy body, panting and sweaty? The thought, the idea, the picture formed in my mind, frightened me to the core of my being, and excited me beyond all reason. Would lieing under him be a bad thing? Oh how I wished at that moment that I had more experience.

Lance had gone forward for something, was momentarily out of my sight when I heard his voice call to me. "Neal, come here! Quick! I made my way to him, forgetting my tether and the life line, almost falling. "Look," Lance said, pointing and gathering me to him with his right arm.

Off to the larboard bow, a school of porpoises gamboled and leaped and played in our wake. It was as if they performed their glorious dance for the two of us alone. Lance held me tight against his body as he had in the bow earlier, but this time he began to gently kiss the back of my neck and that spot just beneath my ear, whispering to me of my beauty, of the joy I brought to him, of how good it was to have me in his arms. Showers of goose bumps raced over my body. I sighed deeply and lay back hard against him. "Eeep, eeep," sang the porpoises in their play. "I want you badly," Lance whispered in my ear, causing a new wave of shivers. Once again I felt that hard insistent presence against me, behind me. Impulsively, I slid my hand between our bodies, laying the flat of my hand on his hardness through his shorts. Immediately his cock jumped and pulsed under my hand. "What was I doing? What was I letting myself in for?"

"Yes," Lance murmured, "that is good, so good." Neither of us moved for a time. We stood there my back to his front, watching the porpoises leap, s**ttering gleaming sun-lit shards of spray like silvery diadems, my hand resting there, unmoving. All was still save for the porpoises and the slight pulsing of his penis beneath my hand. The golden highway on the sea stretched ahead of us. Was there also a golden 'us' that stretched ahead into the future? I was beginning to hope there was. There was a rightness and a glory in the air I had never felt before as I turned toward him, lay my head on his broad firm chest and clasped my arms around him. "Oh Lance. I want, but I don't know what I want."

"Will you trust me, let me guide you?"

"Yes!"

"We need to sit down. This will take a few minutes, will you help me furl the sails?"

"Aye, aye captain. Just show me how." I was pretty sure the boat could guide itself and taking in the sails was unnecessary; pretty sure he was giving me time to change my mind, to make a rational decision. But the rational decision I made this time was to not be rational this time, to seize the day, to seize the moment, let go, abandon rational thought, to set myself free to feel for once.

When the sails were down and we were once again running on diesel, I stood in the cockpit, completely inert, hands down at my sides, waiting for my captain to lead the way. He came to me then, placed his arm lightly around my waist and asked simply. "Below decks in my cabin, or up here on the deck?"

"Could we stay up here where I can hear the ocean, the porpoises, see the sun, hear the gulls?"

"Whatever you want, my buddy, whatever you want."

"I looked up into those dark piercing eyes that once again drew me deep, held me transfixed. "I am afraid, Lance. Will you help me?" 

"Yes! Don't be afraid." We stood in silence for a time, nestled together, watching the porpoises who gambol. His arm was around me. I was half turned toward him, sort of tucked under his muscled arm, my face flat against his firm broad chest, listening to his heartbeat. He took my other hand and laid my flat palm against the front of his white shorts and I again felt the weight, the heft, the length of him. "Feel me," he whispered to me. "Feel my need for you. Feel it grow."

"What will you do to me?" I whispered back.

"So much. Everything. Not to you. With you. For you. For us. What will you do to me?"

There was a knot in my throat as big as Gibraltar as I replied, "I. . . will. . . do. . . Whatever you want me to. Will you guide me, teach me, show me what to do?"

I waited several very long seconds for his reply, when it came it startled me, challenged me. "Open my shorts and take out my cock."

I hesitated a very long time, not sure I wanted to go down this 'road not taken', not sure what I wanted. Lance did not hurry me, did not speak or encourage me further. He simply waited, his patience infinite, those enthralling ebony eyes beckoning, challenging. My knees were weak and my tongue dry and I could not speak as I struggled with the zipper and button of his shorts. I discovered that Lance wore no underwear. When the last button was undone, his shorts fell to his feet; his cock sprang up like a viper looking to strike. It was the first real man cock I had ever seen, especially up this close. I thought I would be repelled, revolted, but quite the contrary. I thought it one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Lance's penis was long, though not grotesquely so, dark and heavy and covered by a long smooth foreskin over its whole length except for the very tip which protruded as if it were an eye looking up at me, questioning.

My breathing nearly ceased, my heart pounded as I took his fullness into my palm, measuring the weight, the heft of him, looking down at his rampant cock, marking his growth as I held him, feeling the power grow in him, the blood surging, pulsing. Feeling the first surge of the power I would eventually have over him. "Oh god," I gasped. I looked back up into his eyes. "Oh god, what next," I thought. And still he waited.

"What now," I finally managed to mutter, barely audible above the crash of the sea, the call of the gulls, the song of the porpoises, the thrumming of my heart in my ears. I hope he doesn't want to see my dick, I thought to myself. I am so tiny compared to him.

His limpid eyes shone as he answered, "What would you like? Would you like me to touch you? Would you like to sit down?"

"Y. . . y. . . yes, er, ah no. Um, that is. Y. . . yes I'd like you to touch me. uh. . . No don't. I don't want you to see me. I mean see my. . .

"Something wrong with your penis that you don't want me to see?"

And now I really was blushing from the roots of my hair all the way to my toes. "It's just, well, er, I am kinda, oh hell, I am really small, I mean my dick. It is really small, especially compared to what you've got."

"Do you really think the size of your penis would matter to me? I am much more interested in the size of your intellect, your mind. The size and depth of your involvement."

Lance reached to cover my hand with his, holding it against his hardness, then turned, took his arm from around me and reached to unzip and open my shorts. His experience was obvious as he had no trouble opening them with one hand, a feat I could barely accomplish on my own clothes. Skillfully he spread the flap of my briefs, reached in and freed my penis from its confines. Only a little more than the tip stuck out, since my cock was only about half the size of his, slim and pink, cut back tight, the circumcision scars obvious. Despite my excitement, fear and apprehension left me only about half hard. 

Lance sighed, "ah. Beautiful," he whispered in my ear. "What a pretty cock you have!" He slid his hand up and back on me. It felt strange to have a hand on me backwards, with the thumb toward the base of my cock and all four fingers around me. Lance knelt and removed my shorts from around my feet. Reaching up he stuffed my cock back through that stupid flap in my briefs. Then grasping both sides of my tight white briefs, he tugged them down to my feet, removing them also.

He stood away from me for a second, twirling my briefs around on his finger like a lariat, then flung them over the side and into the deep blue sea. As if saying a prayer, he intoned. "May Neal Scott never wear such restraining clothing again. Amen." While we were both laughing, he stepped up close to me, grasped his prick and mine and rubbed them together. Seeing and feeling his cock alongside mine, rubbing mine, caused sensations in me I had never dreamed of. The mere sight of our two cocks together, the contrast, excited me intensely, his long and dark, heavy and ominous hiding its secrets under a long wrinkled foreskin, mine smaller, about half as large, pink and thin and circumcised . Next, Lance surprised me by kissing me lightly on the lips while continuing to stroke us together. Oddly, that kiss, my first man kiss, seemed stranger by far than our cocks rubbing together, After several more strokes of our joined cocks, Lance let go, went to the cockpit and sat on the cushions, beckoning me to join him.

I stumbled over to him like a programmed robot, not thinking, my body excited as never before, my cock, rigid as a pole, seemed too heavy to carry around, my mind somewhere beyond sight and sound and reason. My heart beat faster and faster, but my lungs could not breathe deeply. I wanted badly to throw myself on lance and take whatever he was willing to give, give whatever he was willing to take. But a cold dread held me in its tight grip. Fear and longing seemed meshed together in an unbreakable web around my heart, my soul. Numbly I sat beside him.

"We both look kind of silly sitting here with no pants on but shirts still on. Here, let me." Deftly he reached and pulled my polo over my head in one swift motion, then slipped off his own and tossed both in the corner. The hair on his chest was a tight, dark, curled little nest. A dark line led down from there, past his navel and into the dark bush that surrounded his genitals. His heavy dark cock stood pointing straight up his belly, his ball sack huge and hanging. In contrast I was almost skinny, my chest totally hairless, my cock thin and pink, also pointing straight up, hard as a railroad spike and about the same size, my pubic hair blond and sparse, shining in the sunlight, my ball sack small and tight.

"Are you cold?"

"No, I'm okay."

"But you are shivering."

"I am afraid."

"Of what?"

"I don't know. Everything. You maybe."

He placed his hand on my naked thigh. I sighed deeply. "Neal?"

"Yes Lance?"

He slid to his knees between my knees and looked up at me with those eyes so earnest. "I am going to suck your cock now. Stop me if I do anything you don't want me to." He reached and took my cock in his hand and licked the head like an ice cream cone. My prick jumped violently and a moan escaped my lips. Had I wanted to say 'stop', I couldn't, my lips were incapable of speech.

Lance's lips, his tongue, his teeth went to work on me. Obviously experienced, he brought me to the brink of orgasm, then eased off and began anew. At least a dozen times I nearly shot down his throat, but his expertise would ease me down again, until finally, near the end, he took my hands and placed them on the back of his head, then took my hips and drew me repeatedly toward him, surrendering control to me. When I finally came thunderously, I was holding his head and fucking mercilessly into him. As I shot my cum into his throat, he thrust his head tight against my crotch, taking me deep, and used his throat muscles to milk my cock, sucking semen all the way from my balls. When I was done, I sought to pull away from him, but he held me, his head lying in my lap and my cock deflating slowly in his mouth. Despite the somewhat violent finish, it was the highest intimacy I had ever experienced. I felt unbelievably close to him.

After a time, he rose. "I'll be back in a minute," He said. He disappeared below and returned with two fluffy white robes such as one might find in a luxury hotel. "I thought you might be getting chilly," he said. it is getting kind of late. It doesn't look like we will be getting back before very late. Do you need to call someone. Will someone be worried?"

"Well, I have my cell."

Lance chuckled. "Well, good buddy, You think there are any towers anywhere close by?"

"Well, er what, then how?"

"Ship to shore, buddy. Radio. So do you need to call? Okay, so the real reason I am asking is that I am hoping you will stay, spend the night, or maybe a few days and nights. If you say yes, I will take us to a private little island. We can reach it tonight, anchor there for a day or two, and we can sun and surf and play until you have to go back. If you are worried about sleeping arrangements, we can sleep on the beach, on deck under the stars, or there are lots of berths below. This rig sleeps ten."

"Well, I don't know."

Lance took me into his arms then, our robes were open and our bodies touched. He held me and kissed me as a lover would, touching, teasing, his tongue, his lips seeking, roaming. I could smell and taste the slight flavor of my own cock and cum on his lips and tongue. "Please, please stay," he pleaded.

"I will. Yes, I will. I want to." Oh god, what was coming; what was I letting myself in for?

Lance shrieked with pleasure, like a little boy, then ran below to set up the ship-to-shore call. I told home that I would not be home for a few days. There were questions that I did not answer. Was I declaring my freedom? Or was I enslaving myself to the powerful influences of this man? I reaffirmed to myself that I would ride with the storm, go with my decision, take whatever came. I had sealed my fate, for better or worse.



Back up in the cockpit we sat and talked and talked, and talked. I knew that more would happen, that there would be more between us. Would he expect me to return the favor? Could I do it? Could I actually suck a cock? I smiled to myself shyly. I bet I could. And what about anything else? The thing that I feared the most. Would lance try to fuck me, try to pierce me with his large penis? What would that feel like, I wondered. I did not know what I wanted, what I would allow, because I didn't know anything about any of it.

Lance was momentarily distracted stowing something so I sneaked a look at his genitals. Yes, I had to admit, I liked the look of that very much. While he was still looking away, I reached down and took his manhood gently into my hand. He looked up, startled at first, then smiled deeply. "Can I, er, just play with it, just touch you for a while?"

"It's 'him', touch 'him', and yes touch him all you want, please do, play, explore, take a close look. Ever see a cock up close, ever watch a cock get hard? He eased back on the padded bench there in the cockpit and I slid between his legs. We both still wore our robes, but both were open. I especially liked the way his foreskin felt as it slid up and back over the head. I became a bit jealous that mine had been taken from me. I decided that cocks, dicks, penises, whangs, were wondrous things. So silky smooth and soft and vulnerable. And so hard and capable of great v******e. And yet even in the v******e, such as when I was fucking hard into lance's mouth, capable of giving and receiving enormous pleasure. What an amazing thing. I leaned over to look more closely at Lance's dick. Touching and squeezing and poking. I shoved his foreskin tight against his body and watched his cock stand straight, then I squeezed the head to open his little pee hole. First I touched it with my thumb; his heavy cock jumped in my hand. One single crystal droplet appeared from between his spread cock lips, gleaming in the lowering sun. On pure impulse I leaned and licked it up with a quick flick of my tongue. The taste, the smell of him, of his hot cock was overwhelming. My body reacted from some deep primal place within, my cock now achingly hard once again. I fingered his balls, sifting the wrinkled skin of his sack through my fingers as I examined them closely. The thick hardness of him grew now, so long, so hard, that the large almost purple head pushed through the foreskin and into the light, leaking clear fluid down his shaft and onto my fingers. I took his fullness into my fist and slid the loose foreskin up and back, covering and uncovering the engorged head.

"Oh Neal," Lance moaned.

I knew about this. Even I had masturbated before. I closed my fist tightly around him. My small fingers barely closed around his thickness. I jacked his cock hard and fast about ten times, then went back to gentle stroking. This was one thing I felt entirely comfortable doing. I began to jack him off in earnest holding very tight and stroking fast, then slow, then fast again. His cock, his balls and my hand were soaking now as I worked him. I had a free hand and he took it in his and guided me to his chest, his ice hard nipples. I ran the flat of my hand over his broad muscled chest, letting the nipples slide between my fingers, then rolling them between my thumb and forefinger, then rubbing again. I alternated tweaking them, lightly pinching them and rubbing them with the flat of my hand as I alternated jacking him off rapidly, firmly, then slowly, gently. I was enthralled with the power I had over Lance. I had never looked on sex as having anything to do with power, but now I gloried in it, fascinated by the control I had over lance's body. I could play him like a musical instrument, control his feelings, turn him on or off.

Lance began to gyrate his hips wildly, moaning loudly and saying my name over and over, "Neal, oh Neal, oh!" I knew he was close. I had never before seen a penis cum up close, had always had my eyes closed when I cummed, and those boys in the tents, well that was not really looking until after.

On a whim, I leaned and took one of his nipples in my mouth, sucking hard, then biting gently. Lance thrust his hips up hard against my plunging hand. I could feel him getting close, his legs tightened around my thighs where I sat between them, his toes pointed. I took my mouth from his nipples, leaned close, my face, my eyes only inches from his pulsing cock. As I stepped up the pounding of my hand, I circled the head of lance's cock with my thumb, as I had sometimes done to myself. He cried out loudly once. "Oh Neal!" His large cock spurted once, twice. I kept going. He shot again, and again. Three fat globs of cum landed on my face. For the time being I ignored them, watching the plump head of Lance's engorged manhood closely as it opened and shut spewing forth once more, then again, then flowing down over my hand. I slowed my stroking, changed to a soft caress as I felt numerous after-shocks surge through his cock and balls. I looked at his face and saw that his eyes were tightly closed, a look of pure pleasure on his beautiful face, his mind gone somewhere else. 

We stayed like that for a time. I sat up but made no move to release him or to wipe my face. He opened his eyes and looked at me. Smiled. He reached out and laid his open hand on my face in that gesture I was quickly growing to love. His lips made a soft kissing motion. He used his thumb to remove one of the gobs of cum from my cheek, slid his fingers to the back of my neck and drew my face to him. Our lips met lightly in the softest of kisses. It felt so strange, kissing a man, stranger even than holding his penis. He moved is head back a few inches and looked into my eyes. Those deep black eyes spoke to me of tenderness, of caring, dare I say, of love? Once gain they drilled holes into my soul, dragging me in, making us one. Silently, lips moving, he mouthed the words, "Thank you Neal, Thank you." It felt odd being thanked for jerking someone off, but, I had to keep reminding myself, this was not someone, this was Lance. My lance. "My Lance? What an odd thought. Hmm. My Lance huh. Wow. I guess I had to mull over where that thought had come from. Was he mine? Did I want him to be mine? Deep down, if I were being honest with myself, I had to admit that I wanted him with all my foolish heart and soul. When I was sure, when I knew Lance was mine, what would I be willing to do then?"

Abruptly, Lance shook his head. "How about some steaks? I am really hungry. Come on"

he moved quickly, going below, I followed. "The head, er that is the bathroom is over there, pointing, over there there is a shower if you'd like to shower before dinner. I feel very comfortable staying in just robes. I feel quite comfortable being naked if you do, if not, look in that top drawer of the green cabinet and you'll find a soft pair of sweat pants you can slip on after your shower. Or you can just wash up, and after dinner we could shower together. I'd love that. Or we can wait until we get to the island, I am probably going to swim there anyway. There is a beautiful warm lagoon."

I took a quick shower anyway, not necessarily wanting to rid myself of the smell of him, but curious about taking a shower on a boat. I emerged and wrapped a towel around my waist and sat where lance gestured.

We dined on huge steaks charred to perfection and so tender I cut mine with my fork, on fresh asparagus and a bottle of great wine. I am usually not much for wine, but this was darn good, a Lafitte something or other. Dessert was small cups of vanilla ice cream with creme de menthe, which I also had never heard of, but satisfied me greatly. From time to time lance rose to check the setting and the autopilot, obviously expert and controlling the boat with minimal effort.

A bit later, we decided to go back up on deck. I didn't like it much below decks. Lance led me to a spot on the roof of the cabin. We spread a blanket and lay side by side on our backs. Darkness had fallen and the sky was a myriad of stars, thousands more than I had ever seen. "Damn, I was going to love being at sea. Wait! Had I just subconsciously committed myself to being here again, maybe doing this often?" Smiling inwardly and outwardly, I decided that I had decided.

"What are you grinning about?" Lance queried. 

" I am not sure that I want to tell you," I said, smirking.

"So I see, I have to be honest, but you don't. As Captain I order you to tell me what you were just thinking."

"Aye, aye, sir. I was lying here looking at the stars and I said to myself, 'Next time I do this'. . . then I noticed that I had already accepted in my subconscious that I was going to do this again, maybe many times again."

"Well that is certainly good news for me."

"Is it?"

Lance rolled himself over on top of me,but held himself up on his hands. He kissed my lips. One short joining of mouths, but full of intensity. "I am happy that we are together for this time," he said to me, "and each time we are together I will be happier yet, no matter how many times."

"How can you say that? I am sure I have greatly disappointed you."

"How? What makes you say that? How could I be disappointed?"

"Well, you know, I haven't done anything yet but, you know, . . . " 

"Neal, Neal. Dear sweet innocent Neal. I should be insulted that you think I only want you here for sex. But I see that all of this is so new to you that you are having trouble adjusting. You are acting like a stupid little boy. But I understand. You can't set you perametersa and stay within hem. Because you don't have any. That's not your fault, you have no experience. I am hoping that at some point in our relationship you will be able to say and do what you want, because you will know what you want. But it is my fervent hope that we will have a further relationship, sexual and emotional and spiritual. Because, you crazy little man, my darling buddy, I find myself falling in love with you. You think I have all the power, that I am in charge here, but you could ask me for anything in the world and I would do it. I am completely enthralled with you, your beauty, your grace, your innocence. And If you noticed," laughing, "and believe me I did, you said and I quote, 'I haven't done anything YET'."

"Huh, what are you talking about? I have only known you a few days and already, hell even last week when I had only seen you once, already then, you. . .were. . . are. . . the most important person in my life. You have changed me, changed my life forever, but you are so. . . so. . . I don't now, so sexy. It's just as you say I want . . . want. . . you. . .but I don't know what that means. I do know that if I lost you, if we were to . . . to part. I, I don't know what I would do."

Lance shifted his position, his legs outside mine and knelt up. He toook my face in his hands and kissed me deeply. "Oh Neal. Why are you so afraid? I want. . . "

An incessant beeping had been coming from the cockpit and from the navigation station below decks and had finally penetrated Lance's consciousness. "Well, buddy. We have arrived. He spun to his feet in one bound and headed for the cockpit. His robe was open and as he moved, his half hard penis swayed ominously from side to side. "If you are noticing that," I said to myself, "then it, sex, must be more important to you than you are admitting to yourself. It is time to admit to yourself that you, too are enthralled not just with this wonderful man,but with his large, awesome, dark, heavy, wonderful cock! Good question," I asked myself, "what am I so afraid of? I finally faced the truth. What I was afraid of was his cock. I was afraid he would fuck me. I didn't know what that was like, but the thought came flooding to me that that was exactly what I was afraid of. Why? Did a woman feel this much apprehension when she felt someone wanted to penetrate her. Was that what I feared, the penetration, the taking, the loss of self? Was there pain involved? I could not erase the picture from my head of lance's big peter sinking into me, into, yes, my ass. 

I felt a strange tight feeling in my crotch, a strange ache in my belly. Looking down at myself, I saw that my cock was larger, fatter, harder than it had ever been in my life. So thinking about THAT had made me this hard. It seemed my body had overruled my head. Perhaps I wanted what I didn't know I wanted? That was certainly true of this entire relationship so far. I glanced over at Lance, standing so sure, so masculine, at the helm, looking like nothing so much as a sea captain. My heart literally skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was in my blood all right, in my heart, my soul. Would I let him literally in me, in my body?

"Neal, come, come look."

I nearly ran to his side, tucking myself under my robe and tying the belt on the way. The moon was rising from the sea. Lance put his arm around my shoulders and we watched. I had never seen such an awesome sight. At sea, with no obstructions, the moon seemed to float out of the water It rose so quickly that I swore I could see it moving. And as it rose from the sea, it captured the sky, banishing what had been starlight and establishing it silver reign. As earlier the sun had illumined a golden highway, the moon now lit a silver and platinum path on the sea that seemed to draw me toward it seemed to beckon to me to follow its endless road to. . . what? Happiness?

"Look there," lance pointed. A black dot had insinuated itself in the platinum moon path, growing larger as I watched. "That is our island," Lance said, drawing me closer.

"What is it's name," I asked.

"It doesn't have a name. So far it is merely a dot, a set of compass coordinates on a map. Maybe I will call it Neal island. Or Scott Island. Would you like that?"

"Ha ha, how many other boys and girls have you said that to? How many names does it have?"

Lance's voice became tight. "You can be an evil and cruel young man. Did anyone ever tell you that?" he paused a long time and I could see the muscles of his jaw tighten and contract. "I hate and despise jealousy," he continued. "It is a great evil that has destroyed many, many relationships. Jealousy means only two things, lack of trust and lack of respect for your partner and yourself." Again he paused. I could tell he was struggling to control his emotions. 

Go forward! On the port side below the life line you will see what looks like a small box. On top there is a red switch labeled 'anchor release'. When I tell you and not a moment before, open the box and flip the switch." 

"Aye, aye captain," I attempted humor to alleviate the situation, but Lance did not laugh. I went forward and awaited his command. While waiting I did some soul searching. If I was showing jealousy toward this man, what did that mean? Did it mean that I had already invested myself in this man? What else could it mean? Something else pricked at my mind. Up to now, I had not really thought of Lance as a human being. He was older, stronger, much more experienced. But I had just seen a vulnerability that brought a certain level of equality to our relationship. What I had meant to be what I thought was a flippant remark had hurt Lance, cut him. I was well-read enough to know that first comes fear or hurt and then comes anger. I knew nothing of his past. Had he been hurt before? I must remember to ask him. Lance's voice finally penetrated my reveries. "Hello, Neal, Buddy, You there?"

"Aye aye, Cap'n."

"Lower the anchor before we run aground."

"Aye sir." Moving quickly I locate the desired switch and flipped it. The sound of the anchor chain rattling down made me feel as if I were in a movie arriving in Hong Kong or some exotic port. Would I ever get used to this different world Lance dwelt in.

I went to the stern, looked in the cockpit. Lance was not there. I did the full 360 like a ballerina en point, but he was nowhere to be seen. Then I noticed his white robe lying on the deck by the starboard rail. I walked over to it puzzled. 

"Hey Neal, Hey Buddy," Lance's voice called from the darkness. "Come on in the water's warm."

I heard him splashing before I saw his muscular form swim into the silver river of the moon. "Oh great," I thought. "Now I have to admit another inexperience, another inadequacy. Was I ever going to be the equal of this man in anything?"

"I can't swim," I was forced to holler.

"You can't swim?" He asked back. I could clearly hear the laughter in his voice. I immediately blushed again to the tip of my dick. 

"What's so funny about that?"

"Well I asked you to trust me in the middle of the ocean. I didn't know you were giving me that much trust. Now I have to ask you to trust me even further."

"How's that?"

"Jump in, I'll swim for both of us."

"I don't now about that."

"Scared again? When are you going to stop being scared and learn how to live, how to trust?"

"You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely! I am a certified Red Cross lifesaver and I earned merit badges in swimming, canoeing rowing, lifesaving, mile swim, the works. Just jump in. I'll be there when you come up. You do know how to hold your breath and keep your mouth shut, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Okay, jump on in. That is an order from your captain."

"Aye,aye, sir." I dropped my robe to the deck, walked back a few steps and ran full tilt and hurled myself over the side, legs pinwheeling in the air, "Woooooah!" I screamed as I sailed what seemed like a very long way down. I rose from also a long way down, sputtering as my head broke water. And true to his word,Lance's strong arms went around my torso from behind. He made it seem effortless to hold both our heads above water with very little movement.

"Relax, don't fight me. I 'll take you to shallower water. Lay back against me." His arm went around me from above my shoulder on one side to under my arm on the other. He laid back and I with him as he paddled us toward shore with ease. When we got to water just deep enough for me to stan he stopped and swam around to the front of me.