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It was about 8.20pm by the time we got to the Mike’s cottage up north. Francis pulled his truck up next to three others: two that looked as beat-up and road-worn as his and one super-shiny, first-time-off-paved-roads beast that almost made his one look like a Fiat by comparison. I whistled in amazement as we pulled up next to it.
“Jesus, who’s driving that giant?” I asked.
“Some kid. Bradley, I think his name was? Mike invited him; I’d never met him before. Think they work together or something. Seems alright.”
“Seems loaded,” I said, “why would anyone have a machine like that if they weren’t gonna take it off-road? It looks like it’s the first time it’s left city streets.”
Francis shrugged at me and replied, “Maybe he’s compensating for something, some guys go for a Ferrari, some guys…”
He nodded at the truck, then down at his crotch with a knowing look.
“Yeah, maybe,” I conceded, “As long as he’s not an asshole, I don’t really care.
I unlocked the door and started out.
“Okay, let’s get this beer inside,” I said.
I turned back at Francis, who was fixing me with a piercing glare. I looked at him, momentarily confused before I suddenly clicked.
“Oh shit, yeah – it’s after 8, isn’t it?” I said.
“You know the rules, motherfucker: no-one in the cottage after 8, you’re wearing what you’re wearing ’til 9. You sneaky fuck…”
I knew better than to argue with him – it was good-natured ribbing, but rules were rules and we’d been running by them ever since we’d been coming up to the cabin in the first year of college.
Man, how that was six years ago already?
I grabbed the case of beer and hopped down from the truck’s cab, walking round the cottage to the open expanse of land at the back that lead out to the dock. Mike spotted me first and stood up from where he sat around the newly-lit firepit, throwing his arms wide and yelling out at me:
A half-dozen familiar faces turned to me, bottles were raised and a series of hugs and shit-talking ensued. Eventually things settled down again and I sat myself beside Mike on one of the huge carved wooden blocks spaced around the firepit. He tossed me a beer from the cooler and I cracked it while he caught me up on what I’d missed so far.
“…and this is my buddy, Bradley – he started working with me and Grantham a while back. Now he’s ploughing my sister.”
I looked past Mike to the fresh-faced kid sitting beside him, who hadn’t said a word the whole time Mike had been talking to me. His face flushed red and he started to stutter a response about it only being a couple of dates so far. Mike slugged him in the arm and guffawed.
“I’m just messing with you, man! She can fuck whoever she wants. I like you a whole lot better than the last dickhead she was with, it’s cool,” Mike said, tussling Bradley’s hair before turning back to me. He looked straight past me, though, and jumped to his feet again.
“BUBBS!” Mile yelled, then took off to greet him as enthusiastically as he’d greeted me earlier.
I glanced over at Bubbles and gave a wave. I knew the guy, but Mike and Francis were way closer to him than I was: I’d barely kept up with his after graduation two years ago. I decided to take the opportunity to give Bradley a chance to talk to someone other than Mike. I could tell he was the shy type and had a hunch that he’d been sitting next to Mike the whole time he’d been up here and hadn’t said a word to anyone else except during basic introductions. I hopped over to sit on the block Mike had just vacated and extended a hand to Bradley who was staring down at the empty beer bottle he was holding.
“Hey, I’m Matt,” I said.
I watched panic briefly cross his face as he looked up at me, but he managed an authentic enough looking smile as he shook with me.
“Bradley. Good to meet you. You another school buddy of Michael’s?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but grin at that – I’d only ever heard Mike being called Michael by his mother.
“Yeah, we went to Tech together. I know most of the guys just through coming here every summer but me, Mike, Francis and Bubbles go way back.”
“Why’s he called Bubbles?” Bradley asked.
I shrugged and downed the rest of my beer while Bradley continued to look confused.
“Seriously, he’s just always been Bubbles to us – it took me four months of classes with him before I learned his real name was Walter.”
I nodded at the empty bottle Bradley was still holding, the label on it torn to shreds from his nervous fidgeting.
“I think that one’s dead. I’m grabbing another, want one?” I asked him.
“Uhh, yeah. Thanks.”
The kid looked genuinely concerned every time someone spoke to him; if anyone here needed another beer, it was him. I grabbed a couple out the cooler and sat back down, passing one to him before I cracked mine open and took a drink. We sat in silence for a moment before I tried again to break him out his shell.
“You worried about being up here isveçbahis with your girlfriend’s brother? He’s a good guy, I swear.”
He shook his head and stared down at the ground. I gave him a second before I asked a follow-up, as it looked like he was wrestling with some stuff in his mind. Eventually he lifted his head up and turned toward me.
“I’m not worried about Michael – I’ve known him through work for two years now, and he’s totally fine with me dating Samantha. I know that. I’m just…” he sighed and glanced away again before he continued, “I’m just not looking forward to this lake dash thing.”
I put a hand on his shoulder and tried my best to reassure him:
“Listen, if I know Mikey as well as I do he’s told you all kinds of shit about that isn’t true just to mess with you. The truth is this: the doors to the cottage get locked at 8, what you’re wearing at 8 you’re wearing at 9. Bang on 9, the neighbours across the lake,” I nodded in roughly the direction of the nearest cottage, which was still a good 4 mile hike around the water in good conditions, “they’ll set off fireworks. Every year, like clockwork. As soon as they go off, you strip off and make a break for the dock. Last one who divebombs in makes breakfast for everyone for the whole long weekend. That’s it.”
I made a big deal of looking at what he was wearing – T-shirt, cargo shorts, flip-flops – then spread my arms to show what I was left wearing having come straight from my downtown office job.
“You’ve got me beat if you can run faster than a three-legged hamster, so don’t sweat it.”
Bradley forced a smile in response but didn’t seem convinced. He started picking at his bottle’s label again and seemed on the verge of saying something else another three or four times. I just sat quietly, nursing my beer to give him some space. Eventually he spoke up again:
“I’m just… I’ve never been comfortable being naked around other guys. That’s all.”
“Hey, it’s okay: if you’re worried about what I think you’re worried about, you don’t need to be. Some guys are growers and some guys are showers. This ain’t high school anymore; everyone here is pretty comfortable and confident in themselves.”
I glanced round and leant in a little closer once I saw no-one was close enough to overhear us.
“Being totally honest,” I began in a low and quiet voice, “I’m not packing anything spectacular most of the time: certainly not when I’ve just climbed out of cold lake water, but no-one here – no-one – has ever said squat about it. We’re all adults and we’re all used to casual nudity with each other: whatever you’ve got, no-one’s gonna care about it.”
I leant back and took another drink of my beer, not entirely sure how well this super-anxious kid would feel about me talking to him about my penis so quickly after meeting me. I was grateful to see a genuine smile cross his face for the first time since I’d got here, though, and I relaxed a bit myself at that. He lifted his beer and I clinked mine against it, grinning back at him.
We chatted a bit more after that, with him seeming a lot looser now. After a while Mike came back and I left to catch up with a couple of the other guys I hadn’t seen in a while. Before I knew it, I noticed everyone beginning to gravitate toward the fallen log that marked the starting line for the dash. I looked down at my watch: 8.56pm. I downed the last of the beer I had in my hand and set it down in the steadily-growing pile beside one of the coolers. I wandered over to Francis and draped an arm around his shoulder.
“You thinking you’ll be first in again, buddy?” I asked.
“Three years straight, my friend – you bet I’m after it again.”
He was wearing an open shirt, shorts that were already barely hanging onto his hips and a pair of beaten-up old boat shoes I’d seen him kick off with ease while running full-speed on multiple occasions. I already knew he’d left his phone, wallet and keys sitting in the cab of his truck.
“I think you’ve got it, man.” I said, clapping him on the shoulder again as I suddenly clicked that still wearing my leather-banded watch was probably a bad idea.
“Fuck.” I cursed and looked down at my wrist. Francis saw me looking and gave me an ‘I told you so’ head shake. It was too late to take it off now.
By now everyone had given up on pretending to ‘just happen’ to be standing near the log, and it pretty much looked like a starting line-up for a race now – five guys standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder behind the log.
Wait, only five of us?
I looked round and saw Bradley still sitting by the fire, picking at a beer bottle label again.
I checked the time again: 8:58pm, then jogged over to Bradley and caught his eye from about ten feet away. I nodded toward the group of guys with my eyebrows raised to ask “You coming?”. He shook his head and waved me away. I strolled the last few feet over, dropping to a squat in front of him.
“Bradley, you seem like a good kid – if you relax I swear you’ll be able to enjoy yourself. isveçbahis giriş In under two minutes you’re gonna be the only one here wearing anything. And that’s fine by me – it’s your choice – but I think that might be awkward for you. That’s all.”
I stood back up and offered my hand to help him up from his stool. He looked up at me, breathed out a long, deep sigh, set his beer down and took my hand. I pulled him to his feet and we walked over, taking up position next to Mike who was already looking wasted enough that I might actually have a shot at this. All conversation died down as we anxiously awaited the fireworks. I considered checking the time again but knew that as soon as I took my eyes away from the other side of the lake the first rocket would go up.
A couple of anxious seconds later, the first firework launched into the air and the mad dash began: Francis tore off, screaming “This. Is. Sparta!” and I could see his hairy naked ass flying off the end of the dock before I’d even got both my fancy leather work shoes off. Justin was close behind, hopping his way along the dock on one leg as he tried to shake his jeans fully. I got my watch off and slipped it into my pocket, undid my belt and dropped my slacks over the log – fuck it, that’s what dry-cleaning is for – as Bubbles continue to fight with his sneakers as he stood otherwise butt-naked at the end of the dock. I started undoing the top buttons of my shirt as I finally began moving toward the water, planning on shedding my underwear en route.
“Come on, you slow fucks!” Francis hollered at us from the water.
He was already doggy-paddling his way back to shore while I still struggled to pull my shirt off over my head. Bubbles hopped in as Mike finally stumbled his way onto the dock, swaying his way along with a beer in hand and one sock still on. Half-way down I realised I still hadn’t seen Bradley pass and figured he’d ended up deciding against taking part, so I figured I had time to stop and lean against a tree to drop my boxers now that I didn’t need to rush so much. Once I had them off I leant down to remove my socks when I suddenly heard the rapidly padding footsteps of someone running full-tilt closing in on me.
Panic kicked in as I realised Bradley was still in the game and I was wasting time. I turned my head just in time to see him tear past me and – with my head down at waist-level as I took my socks off – I got an eyeful of the ridiculous length of his cock as it flopped around while he ran. I took off after him, slightly shocked at what had just flashed past me, but it was way too late and I ended up a good dozen paces behind him when he launched off the end and cannonballed himself into the water. I briefly caught Francis’ eye as he pulled himself out the water while I ran, and he mouthed a “What the fuck?” at me, having just got a full-frontal look at Bradley running toward him. I dove in, knowing I was last but already resigned to my duties.
Justin and I ended up having to pull Mike out the water after he started swimming blindly in the wrong direction, meaning we were the last ones to get out the water. The two of us – half-carrying Mike between us – headed toward the firepit where everyone else was already sitting round and talking shit. I nodded at Bradley with a grin as we passed, getting a shy but thankful smile in return. After we dropped Mike off in his room in the cottage to sober up and sleep it off a bit we wandered back out and took up spots around the fire. I was feeling a little chilly after our dip and welcomed the heat. While we’d been out ‘rescuing’ Mike, Bubbs and Francis had started up the grill and the smell of the meat grilling on it reminded me that I hadn’t eaten in hours: it was a long drive up here from the city.
“Hey, thanks for earlier,” Bradley said, as he handed me another beer, “I really appreciate it.”
“No worries, man,” I responded, giving him a nod of thanks for the fresh bottle.
“You were right. It would’ve been really awkward sitting here in clothes while everyone’s… well, y’know.”
Bradley motioned at the three guys standing nude around the grill, drinking and talking bullshit.
“Yup. The first year we all came up here it took us hours and a fuckload of beer before we were drunk enough to be comfortable when someone suggested skinny-dipping. But we all enjoyed it and ended up spending most of the rest of the weekend just wandering about naked most of the time, because who the fuck else is gonna see us? We’re the only ones on the east side.”
I motioned out to the lake where the distant lights of three other cottages could be seen – but only barely – on the other side of the lake.
“So, the next year, Mike had an idea,” I continued, pausing for a moment to take another gulp, “it was coming up for 9 and he knew the folk in cottage across the lake always set their fireworks off right on the hour. So he wagered a race as soon as the first one was set off, with the loser doing breakfast duty. We were all game: we’d all seen each other naked the year before so it wasn’t a big deal. isveçbahis yeni giriş The rest is history.”
Francis turned up just then, thrusting a slightly charred burger into my hand and giving me his best shit-eating grin.
“Eat up, Mattyboy – you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you this weekend.”
I gave him the finger in response, but returned the grin. Francis finished handing out the burgers as everyone sat themselves down around the fire again.
“Should someone check if Mike’s doing okay?” Bradley asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
Bubbs snorted with amusement and shook his head
“He does this every fucking year,” Bubbles explained, “he’s a total lightweight. He’ll probably be out ’til morning.”
“Remember the time he brought tequila?” Francis chimed in, “And he thought it would be hilarious to try to climb that giant Maple tree out front?”
I nearly spat out my burger as I tried to control my laughter, having completely forgotten about that incident. Justin and Bubbs guffawed along with me as Bradley looked at Francis with curiosity.
“What happened?” Bradley asked.
“Oh, man…” Bubbles wiped a tear from his eye and nodded to Francis, “Frankie, you tell it the best.”
“Nah,” Francis shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, “I wanna have Mike here for it – I love when he tries to correct me and tell it his way: ‘I wasn’t stuck up there, I was enjoying the view’.”
He rolled his eyes and ate the last bite of his burger then motioned toward Justin.
“Why don’t you tell us all that story you started telling me earlier?”
Justin broke out into a wide smile and cracked his knuckles: the guy loves to talk, and he’s a natural-born storyteller. Some of my best memories of being up by the lake are of talking shit late into the night with him. I finished off my burger and glanced across at Bradley; the kid seemed to actually have relaxed and was enjoying himself.
“Matt, remember that punky looking chick I saw seeing last summer?”
I thought for a second or two. I remembered hearing a couple of stories about her, but I didn’t recall ever having met her. I gave a non-committal shrug, so Justin provided some more detail.
“You know: blonde, under-cut, couple of noserings, Black Flag tattoo on her forearm? You met her at-“
“At Jamie’s birthday party, yeah!” I jumped in, suddenly remembering her, “Shit… she was hot. And she could drink like a horse.”
“You’re goddamn right, son,” he turned his attention toward Bradley, “so, she’s about 5’5, slim but with a banging set of curves to her. Bleach blonde hair, buzz-cut back and sides, covered in punk rock tattoos with fuck-you attitude to match. We fought all the time, but man… she could fuck like a champ.”
He stared off into the distance for a second with a wistful look for a second before he cracked out a grin again and leant forward in his stool, taking up his story-teller stance and drawing us all in.
“Anyway, I was telling Frankie and Bubbs earlier about this one time with her: we were at my place and fooling around a bit, I’d pinned her down on my bed and started kissing down her neck, across her shoulder, down her collarbone then up one of her amazing tits to tease her nipple-ring with my teeth.”
“Nipple ring?” Bradley asked, “I think I’ve only ever seen strippers wearing them.”
“Oh, she’d been a stripper – remind me after I finish telling this one and I’ll paint you the picture of what she did for my birthday.”
Justin raised his hands and face to the sky, smiling from ear to ear in faux rapture.
I heard Bradley laugh at that and smiled to myself, happy that he was finally comfortable joining in as one of the guys. Justin dropped his hands, took another drink of his beer and carried on.
“Anyhow, I moved on down her belly, rising up her hip then continuing down to finish off my trail of kisses right on her vulva, where I started going to work her properly. And this girl normally dug it when I went down on her, got into it, y’know. But that day…” he shook his head in amazement, thinking back on it.
“Shit, I must’ve hit exactly the right tempo or been doing something different, but she got really into it. Like, REALLY into it. She was bucking and grinding herself into my face so hard I was worried she was gonna break my nose. Then, on one of my downstrokes I had my tongue out ready to start back up again when she bucked and my tongue clipped her asshole juuuuust a teeny bit as I started to lick again.”
He paused for effect and I unconsciously leant in, willing him to carry on. I could see Francis, Bubbs and Bradley doing the same. Justin had us eating out his hand and he was loving it. He held a second longer before he finally went on.
“Damn, she moaned like I was nut-deep in her.”
I felt my cock twitch at that and surreptitiously glanced down to see I was way harder than I was expecting: I had a decent semi that was threatening to fly full-mast.
“But it was an accident, y’know? I really wasn’t aiming for that, so I just carried on like I’d been doing before. I was getting back into it again, really pressing my tongue hard into her clit as I rolled over it and she kept shifting her hips to keep my tongue pressed on it.”
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