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Bungalo Summer I

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2010-08-18

I lived in Canter Cove and I was eighteen that summer. I was best friends with a boy named Josh, and that year I had made friends with Chris, an older guy who lived down at the beach just off of South Point. Chris was a marine biologist. He was great. He knew just about everything there was to know about the ocean, it seemed. He was good looking, fit, scuba dived, had a boat, and did fascinating work, and it was easy to be admiring of him. He let me go out with him in his boat sometimes to help collect samples.
That morning I had joined him on his boat. An hour later, however a sudden squall blew up and we headed in as the rain started to come down. By the time we secured the boat and were heading up the wooden steps to his house, we were both soaked. We ducked inside into the kitchen, depositing his gear and the floor, pausing to strip off our wet t-shirts, leaving us in our swimsuits.
"Why don't you get us a hot cup of coffee," he said. "And I'll get a fire going in the fireplace to take the chill off. "
I knew where the coffee was. I filled the pot on the coffee maker with water and got started on doing that, and he went into the living room. A few minutes later, carrying a mug of freshly brewed coffee in each hand, I went in to join him.

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"Great," he said, getting up from the fireplace just as the logs started to catch. "That should help. "
He came over to where I was standing by the sofa and tossed several large, over-stuffed cushions down on the floor for us to sit on. I handed him one of the mugs and he sat down, and I sat down to join him, both of us taking a sip of coffee. The fire was going nicely now, and we could feel the radiant heat coming from the orange flames, removing the cold of the weather. Stretching his legs and bare feet out toward the fire, Chris leaned back on one elbow on the cushions. I did the same. It was comfortable and warm, and nice to lounge there like that, with the rain coming down hard outside. Normally I might have felt a little shy about just being clad in a swimsuit, especially the minimal racing type that I had on, and that Chris did, too. But when I was around Chris, especially out on the boat, that had become standard dress and I was pretty much use to it now. Besides, it was just the two of us, with no one else there to make me very self-conscious about it.
We finished our coffee, and it easy to just sit there like that, with the fire crackling and warming the room nicely. Easy to enjoy each others company and sense of companionship.
"You know," Chris commented, "you've become pretty good at handling that boat. "
The compliment made me feel proud.

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"Well, I have a good teacher," I said.
We looked at one another and both smiled.
Chris slid his arm around behind my shoulders. It was a friendly gesture that I had no trouble in returning, doing the same with him. Right then the closeness felt quite natural and good, and I felt privileged to share that with him.
    I was once more admiring of him. Not only because he was good looking, had an interesting lifestyle, but because he was so open and friendly. A little self-consciously I liked his masculinity, strong and self-assured. And I liked the fact that he seemed to genuinely like my more youthful friendship, and did not treat me like a kid.
    We continued to sit there together like that, with an arm around behind each others bare shoulders, our legs stretched out, our bare feet side by side. Without being consciously aware of it, there was an inviting intimacy to the closeness. Both the emotional as well as the physical closeness. Something that I suddenly realized that I was beginning to respond to, as I felt my penis stirring. I was seized with embarrassment. yet, I was helpless to prevent that from happening.

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       All I could do was to lay there with my boner pushing up against the thin pale blue material of my swimsuit in an obvious display that I was completely unable to hide.
    I swallowed and glanced over at Chris, surprised to see the large bulge of his manhood pushing out at the front of his swimsuit in an equally bold display.
    Chris gave me something of a modestly amused grin,
    "Well. . . I guess that friends can't always keep their feelings from showing," he quipped.
    "I. . . I didn't mean for that to happen," I stammered awkwardly.
    "Either did I," Chriss confessed. "But sometimes it does. "
    "Yeah. . .

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      " I admitted, both surprised and grateful that I was not the only one.
    .

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