by Jolyon Lewes
My first sexual encounter with Frederic was thrilling but it didn't last long. When he pulled me down onto his bed I fell into a state of shock – I simply couldn't believe that after all the months of thinking about him and masturbating at the thought of his beauty I was actually getting to touch him in the flesh! It was a thousand dreams coming true but I was totally unprepared emotionally and to my great surprise the erection he'd just been teasing me about dissipated within seconds.
And yet I was now lying on top of him with my arms around his slender shoulders, my face closing on his. It was as if my body was warning me not to go too far, not to sully our friendship before it'd had time to develop, not to make a mess inside my grey shorts and risk more teasing, not to spoil what I'd been thinking about every night for months.
In truth, I felt in awe of Frederic. Not only was he a year older than me but he was my host on board Mistral and I knew I must let him take the lead in whatever was now to take place. If I were to appear in any way forward , he might be offended and everything I'd hoped for would be smashed into smithereens. These thoughts jostled in my brain against the natural instinct to have wonderful, spontaneous sex.
Please remember that for me, sex of any kind, wonderful or spontaneous, had until then consisted of nothing more than solitary but joyous wanking and fabulous dreams from which it was always a sadness to awake. Frederic had been the subject of many of these dreams and fantasies. Of course I'd kissed the occasional girl and held hands but only out of duty; it had all been very chaste.
Now I had the boy of my dreams literally in my grasp and it was too much for me to take in. Frederic pulled my head closer and closer until our mouths were touching and then I felt his tongue darting about, tickling my lips. I parted them in order to draw breath and a second later was enjoying my first ever French kiss. My tongue found his and the two pink, fleshy organs began a friendly wrestling match, wriggling and writhing this way and that. It was fantastic!
By now our legs were also having a sort of wrestling match; Frederic and I were on our sides, facing each other. Our bare legs were intertwining and writhing together as if they wanted to copy what our tongues were doing. Frederic still had both hands pulling my head tight to his but my hands had moved down and were around his waist. Gradually, I rolled over until I was on my back and Frederic was nearly on top of me. My right hand began to move down over his bottom, feeling at first the cloth of his grey shorts but then encountering bare flesh, warm and very smooth.
While my shorts were embarrassingly short and extremely tight, Frederic's were even shorter and very much looser-fitting, so my fingers quickly found their way under the hems to touch his bare buttocks! This was all too much – I wanted to stop the clock and just lie there, stroking the gloriously smooth, firm flesh of his wonderful bottom. That would be quite enough sex for one night! Well, in a rare moment of self control, that's what I was thinking but Frederic had other plans. He began to thrust his pelvis into mine in exciting little jerks. The kissing stopped and Frederic reached round my waist and pulled me close and this time it was my body not my head he was pulling.
" Oh, Richard!" he groaned, in what I assumed to be ecstasy. I listened carefully, for every tiny aspect of this encounter I wanted forever to remember. "Oh, Richard!" he repeated, rather more breathlessly this time.
My left hand joined my right hand in clutching his bottom and I slipped into his rhythm, pulling him towards me each time he gave a thrust. It was exquisite joy but all so totally unexpected. Then he rolled away, stopped thrusting and just lay on his back, breathing heavily. I guessed he must have climaxed. Well, I'd wanted him to take the lead, hadn't I?
I stepped off the bed and stood looking at him. He was feeling the front of his shorts and let rip a French swear word I'd never heard before. Zut! was the strongest swear word we'd covered in French GCSE and his sounded very much worse than that. I saw a large dark patch on the front of his shorts. No wonder he was upset.
Then he looked at me. My light grey shorts were unstained and I no longer had an erection. "You must go, Richard," said Frederic, his face pink. "I am sorry about this. My self control is atrocious!"
I wanted to stay, either to commiserate or better still, to continue the fun. I'd got over my initial shock and my cock began to stir again. Yes, I definitely wanted to stay but Frederic, who was my host, said he needed to go the bathroom and that I must leave. He seemed annoyed with himself but also with me. His brows were knitted more tightly than ever.
I dithered about, one hand in my pocket, rubbing my cock but it couldn't decide whether or not to get properly erect. Frederic got off his bed and made for his bathroom, holding the front of his shorts away from his body in a gesture of disgust. I could see he'd had a massive emission – the stain was huge and now beginning to glisten stickily. He said goodnight sharply and went into the bathroom, slamming shut the door behind him.
Back in my stateroom, I tried to come to terms with things. Was Frederic upset with me and if so, why? Or was he just furious with himself for losing control so quickly? As I lay in bed I tried to remember if I'd said or done anything to offend him but failed to come up with anything. I went through in my mind all we'd done and quickly found myself incapable of thinking of anything other than his supremely beautiful body so treated myself to another gargantuan masturbation, after which I fell into another dream-filled sleep.
It must have been a deep sleep because in the morning I wasn't lying awake waiting for Serge to come in. Instead, it was his hand gently touching my shoulder that welcomed me to the new day. He wished me Bonjour and gave me some orange juice. I could smell the coffee in the silver pot he'd put on my bedside table. I wondered if Frederic had this treatment every day or only when he was on board Mistral .
I sat up in bed and watched Serge pick up my clothes from the chair. My shirt, socks and pants went into his laundry bag and the concert suit was destined for the wardrobe but not until he'd inspected the shorts closely, even giving them a little sniff. Of course - he'd have seen what Frederic had done to his shorts and wanted to check mine for semen. It would have been terribly embarrassing if I'd had a similar accident but my shorts were clean and I expected Serge to put the wretched things away but he showed me a little split in the rear seam and took them away, giving me a smile and a wink as he did so.
Once again, Frederic wasn't keen to catch my eye at breakfast and this time I felt I knew the reason. I wanted to assure him I hadn't been shocked or offended by his little accident but how could I say I'd like it to happen all over again but this time with me playing an equal role? As he'd predicted, it was raining and we'd be spending the time indoors as Mistral made speed to Monte Carlo. I went to ask Frederic if we could watch a video in his stateroom and his whispered answer was frank.
"I thought you would never want to visit me again, after my self control failure! My behaviour was abominable."
"You've nothing to apologise for," I whispered back. Then, speaking normally: "And I'd really like to see that film about Venice."
"Venice, darling?" said my mother, who'd overheard. "How lovely! We might be going there in the autumn."
"Well, travel broadens the mind," I replied, glancing at Frederic, whose face had gone slightly pink.
I feared my mother would suggest my sister come to watch the film too but luckily the little madam, who loved dressmaking, had been offered an hour or two with Mme Dupont, the onboard housekeeper, who was also a seamstress. When I heard that Mme Dupont would mend the seam in my grey shorts it struck me that she might be responsible for the length of Frederic's shorts. I'd have to ask him.
After breakfast Frederic and I went down to his stateroom, after I'd told my parents that we'd probably watch some pop videos after what I called the little film about Venice. Frederic still looked agitated and I hoped I could persuade him his little accident hadn't offended me at all.
"You must think I'm a sex-crazed Frenchman," he said, smiling at last. "Before we watch anything I want to take the Eurythmics CD to Serge. I promised he could borrow it. Would you come with me, Richard?"
Having serviced the staterooms, Serge had just gone off duty until lunchtime. When we entered the compact space he shared with the three other stewards he was changing out of his uniform, tugging off his trousers, a task that required immense effort, they being so incredibly tight and the material so thick and coarse. One of his mates had to help him.
At last Serge was standing in just a pair of briefs. As he was putting on a white T-shirt and extremely brief, blue cotton shorts I looked at his legs, just as shapely naked as when fully clothed and saw how the skin on his upper legs was red, looking very inflamed and painful. It must have been that awful material with all its little wiry bristles that tortured his skin, for his lovely thighs soon began to fade into a rather fetching pink. I knew I'd have to have a special wank for Serge that night.
Frederic chatted to him in French and I couldn't really make out what they were saying until the other steward had left and Frederic gave Serge the CD, their hands remaining in contact for rather longer than it usually takes to hand over a CD. Then Frederic asked about his grey shorts. It seemed they'd have to go for dry cleaning in Antibes, at which news he swore and cast his eyes down, clearly disappointed. Then, with brow deeply furrowed, he took me back to his stateroom.
"Richard, you told me Serge doesn't arouse you but I was watching you as he took his trousers off."
He pointed accusingly at the front of my chinos and told me I'd had a huge bulge there so I felt obliged to answer with the truth.
"Yes, I do get aroused, because those trousers seem to be torturing his legs. Did you see his skin? It was all red and looked painful. Why is he the only crew member with trousers like that?"
"Because he is only seventeen. The captain makes the rules. He says it is to toughen up the boy sailors. Serge is not alone - there is another boy like him but not so pretty. When he's nineteen Serge will be allowed the more comfortable trousers. Then - no more nettle rash! Look! I can see you have a new erection! You're a sadist, Richard!"
I brushed my hand down over the tent in my chinos but couldn't hide my obvious arousal. Now it was my turn to blush.
"See," said Frederic. "It is true that you like Serge more than me!"
His brow was deeply furrowed. He looked quite hurt and I didn't know what to do. Maybe it would be best to tell the truth.
"Look, Frederic, I have liked you ever since we met last summer. It's not easy for me to say how much but if I told you I've had very many erections thinking about you, would that make you feel better?"
"How many?" asked Frederic, his eyes looking eagerly into mine.
"Look, I'm English; we don't talk like this. How can I say how many? Lots and lots of times. When you're playing the piano, for example. And always when I'm in bed. And now it's happening again!"
"We can watch the movie later," said Frederic, smiling shyly. "Let's go to the fitness studio first!"
"Why? I thought we were going to watch Death in Venice ."
"Because we can take our clothes off! Then we can come back here for the movie. Serge can bring our lunch down here."
If my father knew I was exercising with Frederic and then taking lunch in private with him he'd naturally think I was making big efforts to develop our friendship and that would please him. So I was going to indulge myself with Frederic and please Dad at the same time! What a bargain!
The fitness studio in Mistral was tiny but had a rowing machine, cross-trainer, exercise bike and some weights so there was enough to occupy us for about forty minutes. I tried not to look at Frederic in his Adidas athletics shorts because it would have put me off my stride. Meanwhile, he could see very little of my legs because I was in my long swimming shorts.
I concentrated hard on my exercising and it's not easy to pump iron properly with a full-blown erection so I kept my hormones under control, hoping there'd be a time to express them later. When we'd done enough Frederic led the way back to our staterooms and I opened the door to mine.
"Oh, Richard, are you going to have a shower?" he said, furrowing his brow.
"Well, yes, if that's OK. I mean, will there be hot water?"
"Of course, even at sea we manage to have hot water available! What I mean is why have a shower in your own bathroom? Mine is free."
So I found myself sharing Frederic's shower with him. It was the first time we'd seen each other totally naked and it was an ecstatic experience, certainly for me. We stood under the jets of hot water, soaping each other and giggling. I ran my hands all over his head, his torso and his arms and he did the same to me. Below his neck, the only hairs on his body were in his groin and his armpits. His chest, arms and legs were totally hairless. So was his bottom, his cute little bottom. We stood face to face, soaping each other's bottom, our turgid cocks bumping into each other and making us laugh. He made no attempt to touch my cock so I didn't try to touch his, at least not with my hands. After what seemed like ages we stepped out of the shower and dried ourselves, exchanging little guilty looks. I wondered what he'd suggest next.
I was up for more romping about on the bed but Frederic put on a silk dressing gown and passed me one made of cotton. It bore his initials and to know it had clothed his naked body drove my cock into full rigidity, so I sat down and tried not to look too randy. Then, remembering what we'd just been doing in the shower, I stood up and walked slowly towards him, smiling sweetly. But he waved me away and picked up the phone by his bed.
After a brief conversation with somebody he replaced the receiver and spoke to me.
"I am sorry, Richard but we must be careful. Serge is bringing our lunch very soon and my mother might call in to see how we are. So the bed will have to wait. If you still like me after tonight's banquet we could meet there afterwards - perhaps."
I must have looked disappointed, so he changed the subject. "I've already messed one pair of short trousers so I'll keep a towel around my waist while we watch the movie!"
So we watched Death in Venice and lunched, sitting side by side, with towels ready for any mishap but although I thoroughly enjoyed the film and was pleasantly hard for most of it, I wanted to keep my powder dry - as it were - for the likely midnight assignation with Frederic, a boy even more beautiful than Björn Andrésen, who plays Tadzio in the film. My sister popped in once but all she saw was her brother and his friend sitting demurely in dressing gowns, watching what we said was a travel film.
The only other visitor was Serge, who called in just after the film had ended. He told us about a slight change of plan. Before the gala banquet on board Mistral we were to attend a reception in some palace in Monte Carlo and would we please be ready to depart in one hour. Frederic swore roundly. Serge said that on our return he'd have our dinner suits ready to wear at the banquet.
Oh God! Did that mean the bloody concert suit for this reception in town? Yes, it did. Serge had laid it out in my stateroom, apparently on my mother's express orders. My heart sank. Mme Dupont had mended the seam in the shorts and I was thankful to see the damned things hadn't been made even shorter. But why did I have to wear the ghastly suit in Monte Carlo, in front of hundreds of rich strangers?
But what was Frederic to wear? He couldn't wear the suit he'd worn last night so he'd have to wear another one. I had to find out so I dressed as quickly as possible and went next door. He was in a strange little suit I hadn't seen before, made of dark blue tweed. The shorts were tighter than the ones he'd stained so badly and certainly no longer . The jacket didn't have a funny little pretend-belt but two vents. My jacket had only a single vent. He wore very hairy knee socks of dark blue. He looked divine.
I remember little of the reception and I hung close to my parents, trying not to catch anyone's eye. Ironically, the one person I could look at was Frederic and I did occasionally catch his eye and saw his knitted brow. He didn't look any happier than I felt. I could hardly believe it when I saw his shorts stopped precisely where his bottom began to curve deliciously out from his thighs. His braces must have been extremely tight to make his shorts ride so high. I noticed he often had his fingers inside the legs of his shorts, scratching.
My mother said "Lovely boy, isn't he, Richard? And doesn't he look charming?"
"Yes, Mum," I replied, quickly adding "very smart indeed," in the hope that my mother would assume I was referring to Frederic's turn out and not to his beautiful face, elegant pose, graceful movements and those dreamy thighs, bare right to the top.
"Yes, dear, it's such a beautifully tailored suit."
Back in Mistral, we had an hour to shower and change into black tie. At last I was to wear my dinner suit and my legs would no longer be bare. It was also nice to be able to wear my boxers again. Frederic looked magnificent in his dinner suit and we must have looked more like brothers than ever. My self-confidence blossomed and I'm sure Frederic's did too as we climbed the companionway to the sundeck, for once looking and feeling like young men and not little boys.
It was a marvellous party. I was allowed more than a few sips of champagne, the food was wonderful and the guests were good; some even spoke to me and managed to look not at my legs but at my face. There were some famous actors and at least one famous costumier but none was stupid enough to try flirting with Frederic or me or, for that matter, with my sister. I enjoyed listening to the speeches, which were all in English and even my sister behaved herself. I was excited about my assignation with Frederic but the evening was so enjoyable I forgot to look at my watch.
At midnight the guests had mostly departed and Frederic's mother kissed him goodnight and said we could both go down to our staterooms. We didn't need any further encouragement.
By his door, Frederic said "Well, Richard, I was watching you tonight and you never seemed to look at Serge but you were looking at me so I think I believe you now. You do like me more than him, don't you? Please put on my dressing and join me in five minutes."
As I was taking off my dinner suit I sensed rather than heard the engines running. Stripped down to just my boxers I put on the cotton dressing gown bearing Frederic's initials and looked out of my port-hole to see we were leaving Monte Carlo. In the morning we'd be in Antibes and after breakfast I'd be leaving Mistral with my family for a couple of days in Juan-les-Pins before our flight back to England. This would be the last night I'd see Frederic until August. I couldn't afford to waste any time and went round to his stateroom. In his silk dressing gown, he was spreading out two giant towels on his bed. Then he took off his dressing gown and was left in just his tiny, electric-blue, buttock-baring briefs.
I thought I knew what that meant and made to take off my dressing gown but he told me to leave it on. The soft light was playing on his gloriously smooth skin, giving it an uncharacteristically golden glow and emphasising with shadows his juicy contours. As I stood gazing in wonder my cock remembered what it was for and came smartly to attention. Frederic looked at me and with slightly knitted brow gave me his shy smile. There was a huge bulge in the front of his little briefs.
"It is I who will undress you, Richard. But first, some music."
At the flick of a switch there was soft, smoochy music and then he came to stand behind me. I felt his hands touch my shoulders and shivered in delight as they slowly made their way down my arms until they reached my waist. Gently they untied the cotton belt and then moved sexily up my body again until they were positioned to pull the dressing gown off my shoulders, which they then proceeded to do but oh - so slowly. Here was another moment when I wanted time to stop still, leaving me transfixed - and emotional.
Frederic edged the sleeves down my upper arms until they'd reached my elbows and then, making a little squeak, he let go and the dressing gown fell to crumple at my feet. I assumed that next event would involve his bed but what I didn't expect was that he'd stand back and burst into shrieks of laughter.
"Oh, Richard - what are you wearing?" he giggled.
Oh God, he thought my boxers were funny! He motioned me to the full-length mirror and I had to see the funny side; he was naked apart from tiny briefs of electric-blue and I was in polka-dot boxers that went nearly halfway down my thighs. Boxers that were severely tented at the front.
"Take them off, or I'll never be able to take you seriously!"
Suddenly, I felt nervous. I knew we'd been naked together in the shower but it seemed wrong somehow for me to be stark naked in his company. It wasn't as if we were in bed with the lights out. I made no move but was thinking quickly.
"May I borrow some briefs, please?"
"Oh, you English! " he teased, as he went to his chest of drawers. He selected a pair of silk briefs in brilliant red and tossed them to me. They seemed to weigh about two grams. "These will look nice on you, Richard."
I turned away from Frederic and swapped my boxers for the shimmering silk briefs. They proved just large enough to accommodate my frontal equipment but left my bottom largely bare and felt wonderfully sexy - much sexier than my own little briefs. When I turned round Frederic was lying on his bed with his knees drawn up, exactly as he'd done the night before. I knew what was expected of me and walked over to hold his right knee and waggle it slowly. This I did for many seconds before he offered his next invitation.
The tip of his tongue poked out from between his lips and when it wiggled I knew that signal, too. Pushing his knees well apart I leapt upon his beautiful body and planted my lips on his. My hands were about his head, his were on my back and we kissed. It was another of those French kisses and this time it lasted an age. His mouth tasted pepperminty and delicious. Once again, I wanted the clock to stop.
When at last we needed deep breaths I levered myself up and knelt between his legs looking down at the face of an angel. His hands were now free and he spread his arms wide on the bed as if in supplication. I felt his inner thighs clasping my hips and instinctively put my hands on his knees and slowly ran them run along the outside of his sumptuous thighs. Oh, how smooth and firm they were! I was staring into his shining eyes and was speechless with ecstasy. When my hands reached the top of his legs I had to decide what to do next. The simplest choice was to keep going until I was holding his waist.
Frederic shifted slightly but it was only to reach a switch and dim the lights still further. He picked a peppermint from a little bedside dish and slowly brought it to his mouth but instead of popping it in he licked it sexily and then brought his hand slowly down his chest and put the sweet on his tummy button.
"It's yours, Richard!" whispered Frederic, breathily.
I shifted my knees back a little and lowered my face onto Frederic's stomach.
"Eyes closed," he murmured.
In searching for the mint in its special receptacle my tongue found lots of smooth, French abdomen to lick. Frederic must have spent many hours in his fitness studio for his stomach was firm and taut. He now had his hands on my head, trying to steer it away from its goal and he was beginning to giggle silently at the sensation of his tummy being explored by my tongue. Even with eyes tight shut, my homing instinct was pretty sharp and it wasn't long before my mouth closed on the little round sweet and sucked it in.
My cock was now raging for action and I wondered what was next in the foreplay Frederic had presumably planned for us. I was soon to find out for he pushed me out of his way and got off the bed. He went to his fridge and brought out a little jar of something golden. Oh hell! Was this Vaseline or some other sort of lubricant? I wasn't ready for anal intercourse, if that's what he was planning. Remember, I'd never even touched another boy - or girl, for that matter. I'd heard about shoving cocks up other boys' bottoms but it sounded awful! Mind you, if it had to be anyone, I couldn't think of anyone better than Frederic to try it with. Only not tonight, please ...
I lay on my back and wondered what to say. Something caught Frederic's attention on his way back to the bed and I saw his eyebrows knit. He put the jar on the bedside table and returned to whatever had attracted his interest. I noticed the jar was labelled Miel . So it was honey. I relaxed a bit as surely he wouldn't use honey as a lubricant.
It was my boxers that Frederic had spotted and he picked them up and began to laugh. He held them by the waistband at eye-level and composed himself enough to ask me how I could wear them with my grey suit. Before I could answer he'd got the tweed shorts he'd worn at the reception - with the braces still attached - and held them up together with my boxers. You can guess which pair was longer, by about four inches!
"Actually, I don't wear those with my grey suit. I have to wear briefs." I felt myself blushing. "And I don't have to wear that stupid little suit very often, thank God."
"I like your stupid little suit - it makes you look so sexy!" said Frederic. "But I have never worn anything like this ," he said, sniffing my boxers before dropping them on the floor in mock horror.
"But you must have long trousers for evenings when you don't have to be smart."
"Yes, of course, when we're at home, in Paris." Then he added "Unless we go to the theatre or to receptions like tonight. And I wear long trousers at school, of course."
"Same here," I said, feeling my desire for Frederic grow even stronger. We had so much in common.
"It's rich boys like us who have to dress like little kids when we are with our parents," said Frederic, becoming serious. "Other boys of sixteen are allowed to look like men." Throwing his tweed shorts onto the floor he added sadly "I hate this suit most of all. It's so itchy!"
He told me he had six more short-trousered suits at home. In winter the weaker sunshine wouldn't harm his skin so he could wear shorts in the daytime during cold weather. In fact, it seemed he was compelled to; his father had told him it would toughen him up. Moreover, Mme Dupont had been instructed to make all his shorts extremely short, to stop Frederic getting above himself. With privilege must come humility, apparently.
"Even the youngest French boys wear longer shorts these days," he said, looking forlorn and utterly desirable. He nodded towards his wardrobe. "But not me. In there is another suit, with trousers no longer than these! " He kicked his tweed shorts into the corner and then shuddered in disgust. I gave him a sympathetic look.
Then with sparkling eyes, he said "I always have to behave perfectly in public so in private I think I should misbehave - badly! Don't you agree?"
He advanced to the bed and telling me to lie on my back and keep still, he took the jar and poured a little honey onto the hollow just below my Adam's apple. The honey felt cold. Then he climbed nimbly onto the bed and lay alongside me, licking the honey with his tongue and exploring my bottom with his hands. I could feel him sliding his fingers into what little there was of the back of the red silk briefs and tickling the cleft between my buttocks. My cock was going berserk.
Soon he'd licked up all the honey so he put his sticky lips on mine and we had another French kiss, languid yet thrilling. He'd stopped exploring my bottom and was just holding me tight. Now instead of peppermint I could taste honey. I would never forget this night. In about nine hours I would be leaving his company for four whole months. How would I cope?
As if reading my mind, he muttered - once our mouths had disengaged - "Oh, Richard, I wish you were not going tomorrow. We've only just begun!"
Now the foreplay moved up a gear as Frederic began gently to wrestle with me and our legs intertwined and wriggled as our bodies slid about in very close contact. Like Frederic, I had no hairs on my arms and legs, nor on my chest, so it was a case of smooth skin gliding past smooth skin. I expected the pelvic thrusts to start any time and wondered which of us would lose control and shoot his load first. I gave myself a minute at most.
He must have been reading my mind again for he suddenly wrenched my briefs down to my knees and did the same to his. Now we were writhing about on our sides, facing each other and locked together by our arms. I pulled Frederic even closer as he started thrusting and I felt his hardened cock on my tummy. My cock was somehow between his legs just below his groin and instead of my own hands doing the work it was his rhythmically thrusting inner thighs massaging my cock and bringing it to climax. The thought crossed my mind that if Frederic had been taller than me it would have been my cock making love to his tummy and my thighs bringing his cock to climax.
His hands were now up by my shoulders and mine were clutching his glorious bottom, squeezing and pulling in time with his ever more urgent thrusting. I knew I was about to come and squeezed his bottom extra hard and at that moment Frederic let out a gasp and my tummy suddenly felt very warm, while at the same time my cock squirted and squirted onto his inner thighs and onto the towel he was lying on. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt delirious with lust. We'd climaxed at the same time and our thrusting gradually subsided until we just lay there, locked in embrace. I eased my spent cock from between Frederic's legs and lay quietly on my side, kissing his cheek and with my arms clasped around his back as if frightened he'd escape. I felt his body trembling and held him tight.
For the first time, I was dimly aware of the ship's motion. She was rolling gently as she made her slow progress westwards. Frederic turned his head into the pillow and the trembling turned into heaving as he began to sob.
"What's the matter, Frederic?" He gave no answer but rolled onto his tummy and sobbed into the pillow.
I pulled myself clear and made to stand up but my knees were bound together by the red briefs so I had to work them up to my waist before I could stand up and look at Frederic. His whole body moved to his sobs and his blue briefs had slid down to his ankles, looking faintly ridiculous. He didn't resist when I removed them altogether. I looked down at the totally-naked Frederic, his pale and hairless body looking so young and so vulnerable. Again I leant over him and asked him what was wrong.
Sniffing loudly he rolled onto his side and looked at me with tear-filled eyes.
"If my father knew what I was like he'd throw me out without a centime!" He drew his knees up and hugged them. In the foetal position he looked more vulnerable than ever.
I felt a spasm of guilt - had I been guilty of seducing Frederic and was I responsible for what he was like? A second later I realised I couldn't be guilty; it was he who'd taken the lead in all our delicious little games. When I wondered how many other boys he'd played with I felt jealous of them. Why should they have had his lovely body? Then I felt angry - was I just the latest in a line of conquests? Was he using me as a plaything to amuse him on this tedious voyage? It wasn't long before I had my answer.
"Richard, would you pass me the tissues, please?"
He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. Then, seeming to realise he was naked he climbed quickly off the bed and wrapped one of the towels round his waist before sitting back down on the bed and patting a place beside him where he wanted me to sit. He turned up the lighting a little. I adjusted the red briefs and in so doing accidentally let the elasticised edges snap back onto my bottom with a sharp, slightly exciting sound, causing Frederic to look up, first at my midriff and then at my face. His brow was knitted as tightly as ever I'd seen it. I sat beside him.
"Richard, I've wanted to lie with a friend like this for so long but I've never dared to in case the news got out, maybe at school, maybe at home, maybe at my father's business and if it did he would kill me. Serge knows what I'm like but he is kind and I trust him. That's why I was jealous you might like him more than me. I was worried that if you and he became friendly you might talk about me and laugh."
"Oh, Frederic, why would I want to laugh at you? I admire you, I would never do anything to hurt you - in fact - I think I love you!"
He turned to me and cupped my chin with his hand, moving his fingertips ever so slightly.
"Do you have to shave yet, Richard? I don't. I wish I did, as my father might let me dress as a man and not a little boy."
"But Frederic, it's just the same with me!" I felt his smooth chin and brushed the back of my fingers over his cheeks. Not the faintest indication of bristles. "We have so much in common! Oh, I wish we didn't have to say goodbye tomorrow!"
My erection was building nicely and I wanted to lie with Frederic again, as he'd put it. His electric-blue briefs caught my attention as they lay on the floor and I picked them up.
"You know, my friend, that towel is horribly sticky," I said. "Why don't you put on these nice blue briefs?" And he did. "That's better, now I can admire your legs properly. You hide them from me during the day so I must make best use of the night!"
Surprised by my own forwardness, I felt I should put my cards on the table, like Frederic had done. So I told him I'd had no sexual experience with anyone else and reminded him I'd dreamt about him constantly for nearly a year. He smiled, just a bit and that made me very happy. It had been awful watching him cry.
Feeling emboldened, I decided to take the lead. "Look, we have to part in the morning and I won't see you till August. When you come to stay with me we're going to have a lot of fun and we won't have to wear little boys' clothes because at the concerts we can wear dinner suits, like tonight at the banquet. But now, I want to look at you closely, very closely, so I'll be able to remember all the details until we meet again."
Frederic leaned over and gave me a little kiss on the lips, not a French one this time. "Oh, Richard, I will count the days - and hours - until we meet again. And I pray to God that your parents will still make you wear the stupid concert suit."
As one, we lay back on the bed and slowly, sweetly, lovingly, we explored each other's body with our hands and our eyes. And with our tongues. Frederic was incapable of making a clumsy movement: every little gesture, turn of the head, movement of his legs was performed with such grace and artistry I began to wonder who'd taught him but I believed him when he'd said he'd never done this before, so it must just have been his natural poise.
If I'd thought his face was silky I was even more thrilled to discover his nether regions were just as perfect. His skin everywhere was smooth and flawless but best of all were his thighs: firm, cool and with a soft, downy texture at the rear, while at the front and sides the surface felt like expensive, glossy paper, most especially on the upper regions. I felt indignant that thanks to the criminal brevity of his tweed shorts, the entire length of his wonderful thighs had been readily on view to hundreds of people in Monte Carlo that afternoon. I should be the only one entitled to see and touch such delicate perfection. After all, it was I, not all those millionaires, who worshipped Frederic. OK, maybe Serge could have an occasional peep but nobody else deserved such a treat.
"I'm tired," said Frederic, making me think he'd had enough of me. "Will you sleep with me, Richard?"
"Oh - I mean - yes - but if I sleep here Serge will see us here in the morning. I should go next door and ruffle my sheets a bit so it looks like..."
"Don't worry," Frederic interrupted. "Serge will not tell anyone. I'm sure he expects to find you here with me!"
We stood up and looked at each other. His smile was as broad as I'd ever seen. "Carpe diem!" he said.
"Carpe diem!" I replied, my erection back in an instant.
Five minutes later we'd washed, cleaned our teeth and were snuggled up in bed, hugging and kissing.
"And in August, Richard," spluttered Frederic, freeing his mouth from mine, "when I come to see you, I want us to go camping together. Just the two of us. OK?"
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