In the months after that, Ron and I began to see each other less regularly, partly because he was usually beat after a hard day installing windows at his new job, and later on, going to tech school as part of his apprenticeship. Partly because I, too, was busy studying. Fourth Year High was much tougher than my previous years of school. And partly because both of us had discovered new friends at work or school - not sex friends, at least in my case - but different, interesting people. In Ron's case it was also sex friends - he was regularly seeing - and doing - Karen, the girl he had met through his work-mate.She was a year younger than he, just 14 years old.

But the biggest reason we didn't see so much of each other was that our parents decided we were a "bad influence" on each other. Looking back, I wonder if that was just a nice way of saying they were afraid we were fucking each other. At any rate, they eventually tried to keep us from seeing each other quite so often.

It came to a head one evening in late summer, the same summer we had played with Des in the clearing "down the back." My family were going to the river after supper to do some scoop-netting for crabs which entailed two or more people wading in the shallows, one person with a pressure lantern held high to illuminate the "blue manna" crabs which were coming in to feed on the garbage at the shoreline. That person was usually towing a wash-tub on a rope. The other persons would have scoop-nets to scoop up the crabs and toss them into the tub.

Ron was off work for a few days, because he had cut himself on the leg at work and needed stitches. The river was badly polluted back then, and his mother didn't want him to get his leg infected, so when he asked if he could come with my family, his parents said no. He stormed out, and jogged the mile or so to our place anyway. Why he didn't ride his bike, I don't know. Probably, he stormed out the front door, and his bike was usually stashed by the back door.

Anyway, he arrived at our place, all puffed out, but ready to go crabbing. We didn't know he had been ordered not to come. His father arrived a few minutes later, on his rickety bicycle. Why he had ridden that, and not driven his car, again I don't know. He was winded, red-faced, and furious that Ron had disobeyed him. He ordered Ron to get his ass home at once, and explained to Dad what Ron had done. Dad agreed with Frank that Ron could not come with us. Ron, pissed right off, waited till his dad's back was turned, talking about Ron's behaviour with my Dad, grabbbed his father's bike and pedalled off home, leaving his dad to hoof it home.

Of course, my Dad ended up driving Frank home. He was gone quite a while, and when he returned he gave me the ultimatum agreed upon by him and Frank: Ron and I were not to see each other except on weekends. I sulked throughout the crabbing expedition.

At first, we revolted, and would sneak out to hook up somewhere, usually at the tennis courts behind the old hall which had been the school at one time. The courts had a corrugated-iron three-walled players' shed, with the open side facing the two courts, and beyond them just bush. Here we were out of sight of the road and everyone, unless there were players on the courts, which was rare in the daytime, and never after 10 at night when the lights would automatically shut off. We could often sneak in a quick blow-job or butt-fuck there.

But eventually, this became a nusance, in an age when no-one had telephones, so our meetings at the shed were very hit-and-miss, and soon we stopped trying, unless we had set up a tryst beforehand. So Ron and I saw each othe less and less. But occasionally he would sneak out at night and ride or walk round to my place, and if all the other lights in the house were out, but my was still burning, he would know everyone else was asleep, and I was still studying or reading, and he would sneak into my sleep-out for a "quickie," usually a blow-job, but sometimes we would risk fucking. The chances of getting caught were slim if we kept relatively quiet about it.

One night, near the end of the school year, I was busy studying for the final exams. I was tired and frustrated because I was having problems with the math homework. I didn't hear Ronny creeping in across the back verandah and opening my bedroom door. He was in and closing it behind himself before I realized anyone was in the room with me. I nearly shit myself in shock.

That set me off. Instead of welcoming him, I snapped at him.

"What do you want?" I hissed.

"Thought you might want to suck my dick for me. It's been a while." he grinned.

"It sure has!" I snarled. "You've been too busy with your new friends to bother with me!"

"That's not fair," he protested. "You are always too busy studying. You never come round to my place any more!"

That was basically true. I just didn't take the time off studying to pedal my bike round there on the chance that he would be home and still awake, especially as he still shared his bedroom with his brother.

"So does that give you the right to come round here demanding to be sucked off, right when I am getting ready for the finals?" I demanded, unfairly.

"If that's the way you're gunna be, fuck you!" he cried, and slammed the door on his way out. He didn't give a shit whether my parents heard or not. I guess they didn't because there was no sound from the rest of the house.

Through my bedroom window, I saw Ron's silhouette pass up the up the side of the house toward the road. I guessed he must have walked round here from his home.

Immediately, I felt guilty for what I had said. That was my best friend who had just stormed out. I must make it up to him! I must stop him!

I pulled on an old pair of sandals, rushed out to our shed, grabbed my bike and pedalled off after him. When I got to the top of our driveway, I could see him passing under a streetlamp about 250 yards down the road. He was jogged easily. I pedalled like mad after him. Beyond him, the lights from the night tennis courts blinked out, and a couple of parked cars at the courts started up, turned on their headlights, and drove away.

I caught up with Ronny just as he reached the old hall in front of the tennis courts, which had been one of our meeting spots.

"Stop!" I cried. But he kept trotting along. I leapt off my bike, dropped it to the ground, and grabbed my friend. He tried to break away, but I knocked him to the ground, and fell on top of him, holding him down. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I panted.

"I don't care," he whispered. "Let me go!" He was crying!

"No," I replied. "Let's go to the tennis shed."

"OK," he finally agreed, and I let him up. We wheeled my bike behind the hall to the outdoor courts. As soon as we we inside, I dragged him to me, and kissed him. He kissed me back. "I thought you didn't like me any more," he murmured.

"Like you? I love you, mate! Don't you know that?"

I grabbed him and drew him hard against me. "Hard" immediately became the operative word ó for both of us. Both of us got instant stiffies. The November night air was quite warm enough and we were instantly shedding what few clothes we wore. In moments I was on my knees on the gravel and dirt floor of the corrugated iron shed with his dick in my mouth.

I gobbled at his cock greedily, gasping his bare buttocks and pulling him in to my mouth. He responded by pumping, face-fucking me. Soon he said,

"Let me suck you!"

We changed places and he sucked my dick. We didn't even consider fucking. The shed floor was too rocky and dusty, and the sparse benches were too narrow. But these days I suppose what were were doing would be called "make-up sex." We were both trying to show each other how much we cared and wanted each other. We took turns sucking each other, till finally I came in his mouth, and Ron in turn whacked me off and drank my cum right from my dick.

We both went home happy and best friends forever once more.

Summer rolled around again. Whenever he got the chance diring the spring, Dad would head down to our beach lot at Point Peron, where he was working on building a small, two bedroom shack, mostly with lumber and other materials he had got from salvage yards. The bedrooms were not much more spacious than the average bathroom, but it would be more spacious than our 8'x10' caravan. I was finished school for the summer, and Ronny was off work for his first annual two-week vacation. Our parents seem to have forgotten the ban on our meeting, and Dad invited him to come with us to the Point. He really wanted the extra hand in helping to finish construction, of course. The shack was not yet ready for habitation. It didn't have a roof, for starters, not any doors or windows, just the gaps for them. For now, Ronny and I would sleep outside on cots under the tarpauline, just as we had that first summer.

Although we spent quite a bit of time helping dad with putting a roof on, we still had plenty of time for our favourite sports - snorkelling, swimming, fishing, sunbathing, and sex. We didn't even have my little brother tagging along this year. He had gone off somewhere else on vacation with another family. We had our little cove amongst the rocks all to ourselves — or so we thought!

For the first three days we got naked and sun-tanned and swam and "played" there uninterrupted by anyone. It was our own little world. On the fourth day, we thought we were all alone again. I went in for a dip, and when I came out again, Ronny was lying in the sand, jerking his dick. It looked deliciously hard.

"I love to watch you wank," I told him, " almost as much as I love to suck your dick."

Right then was when we became aware that we were no longer alone. There was a chuckle from the shadows against the rocks which projected into the water and separated off our little cove. We peered into the shadows in the direction of the sound.

There was a man there! As we watched, he stepped out into the sunlight. He was a good-looking, well-built man, totally naked except for a cowboy hat and sunglasses. He was tanned all over.

"Don't be afraid,' he told us. "I'm not going to hurt you ... or tell anyone. I've been watching you the last couple of days from the top of the rocks," he said. "Watching you guys playing dirty bugggers gets me real randy. I wanted to see it closer up, so this morning I climbed down before you got here. My stuff's back there in the rocks."

He gestured to the shadows in the rocks behind him, a small cave where the tides and waves had eaten away at the sandstone rocks.

"We've met before," he told us. "A couple of years back. The first time I ever came to this spot fishing. You were playing dirty buggers then, too. I pretended I hadn't seen."

Ron, stark naked, with the sagging remnants of his hard, faced him defiantly

"What do you want?" he demanded. "You some sort of homo pervert or something?" The man chuckled.

"Well, ain't that the pot calling the kettle black! But, yes, I suppose I am. I get off watching young guys go at it. I don't wanna touch you or anything. I just wanna watch. That OK?"

We both considered wht the man was saying.

"That OK with you, Ted?" Ron asked.

"I suppose so," I replied. "It's not as if he's gonna tell anyone. Let's put on a show for him."

"OK," I called out to the man. "Just don't come any closer. Don't try to touch us or anything. And don't tell no-one!"

"OK, OK!" he agreed.

So Ron and I, there in the hot morning sun, naked as new-born babies, put on a bit of a sex show for the man in the hat. We jerked each other, and sucked each other, but we didn't kiss. That would have been sissy in front of the stranger. We both got reasonable hards, but the audience was a bit of a downer, a bit embarrassing.

"Can I watch you bummy each other?" the man called.

It sounded like a good idea at the time, and easy enough request to fulfil, but when it came right down to the nitty-gritty, we weren't enough of show-ponies to go through with it. Ron leaned against a rock and bent over a bit, but my dick was not hard enough to enter him.

"You try," I told him, and I bent over the rock outcropping as he had done, but with as little effect. His dick, too, was too soft for penetration.

"Sorry, mister," I called. "No bummy show today! Our dicks are not co-operating!"

"That's OK," he replied from his spot among the rocks. "It was enough to get me off!" He pointed to some shiny spots on the rocks and sand where he had just shot a load of cum. "Maybe next time!"

"Yeah," I replied ,"Maybe next time."

Fear may have stopped either of us from getting a decent stiffy in from of the guy on the beach, but it didn't stop us a couple of nights later, on the last night of our stay at the Point.

That day, we had finished helping Dad put on the roof od the new cabin, and the last of the siding, and Ron had installed the windows, bought whole from a salvage yard, as were the two outside doors. The insides were not lined yet, but we did stuff the wall cavities with lots of old newspapers as some form of insulation.

Dad agreed that Ron and I could sleep in the cabin that night, instead of the cot beds under the awning on the caravan, to christen the cabin. He also agreed to drive us the mile or so into the nearby town so we could go to the outdoor movie that night, where "Rock Around the Clock" or one of the many carbon-copy rock films of the 50s was playing.

Outdoor movie theatres were very popular in Western Australia at that time, before the spread of drive-ins and the advent of TV. Almost every regular theatre also had its "garden theatre" right alongside, with canvas deck chairs instead of regular move seats. The movie would start as soon as it got dark enough, and as the latest sundown in that lattitude was 7:20, the movies usually started by 8 pm. There was no daylight savings time.

Although we had been looking forward to this movie, it actually turned out to be pretty boring, so we were hardly watching it at all. All of a suddne, people surrounding us started crying, "Look! Look! What's that?" and other cries of surprise and wonder. Others were pointing to the skies above the screen.

We followed their pointing arms with our eyes to see what was causing so much consternation. Rising over the screen, way up in the starry night skies, were three or four groups of bright, greenish lights. Each group of lights surrounded a central, larger light, and moved independently of it, hovering around the central light. All the lights were more-or-less oval in shape. The lights were moving from over the ocean to the west, inland to the east. If they were flights of night birds or something, they would have been flying in fairly straight lines, but these were following zig-zag paths as they moved toward the east.

"Flying saucers!" someone cried.

"We're being invaded!" cried someone else. Similar cries went up from all over the grounds. "Someone call the police!"

People were standing and moving round, some heading for the exits. The movie continued to run, but the garden floodlights came on. The groups of lights were right overhead by now, way up in the sky, but eventually they passed beyong the corrugated iron back wall of the movie gardens and disappeared from our sight.

After a couple of minutes of this, the movie sound was shut off, and a voice came over the theatre speakers telling us not to be alarmed, that what we had seen was just a flight of night birds, which consoled us some, but then they added that they had tried to phone the observatory in Perth, but that all the lines were dead. Just like in horror movies! The voice also added that if anyone wanted to leave, they could get a free pass for another evening at the ticket booth on the way out.

Ron insisted that we leave now, saying he was sure it must be aliens invading. He wasn't joking. He was scared shitless.

So we got our free pass and walked home along the mostly dark road. What street lights were there were very far apart. All the time, Ron was scouring the skies for saucers, and checking behind us for aliens creeping up on us. Although the night sky was sprinkled with all the southern constellations, there was no moon, so the roadway was very dark, especially when we passed the outskirts of the town on the last leg toward the Point.

When we got to Dad's beach lot, there were no lights at all, but the moon was just starting to peep over the eastern horizon. The family had gone to bed, so we headed toward the unfinished shack. Ron had calmed down a bit by this time, but just as we stopped to take a leak on the gound outside the shack, there was a loud screech and flapping right nearby which scared the living daylights our of us. Ron screamed and ran for the shack. I wasn't really brave or anything, but I stood my ground because I was in the middle of pissing. It also gave me a chance to realize what it was!

Against the night stars, dimly lit by the rising moon, a large owl was rising into the night sky, flapping its huge wings against the stars. It had been sitting on an old pole, remnant of some forgotten fence. We had startled it, but not as much as much as it had startled us!

When I went into the unfinished shack, I couldn't see Ronny at first. Then I realized he was already in the sleeping backs on the floor, which we had laid out before going to the movies. He was completely in, with the top bag pulled right over his head. I took off all my clothes and climbed in with him. To my surprise, he was still fully dressed, and I could feel him literally shaking with fear. I pulled him to me.

"Hey, calm down," I told him. "It was only an owl. There's no spacemen or anything out there. And you are safe in here with me. Here, let me get you undressed."

Hushing and soothing him all the while, I helped him wrigggle out of his clothes, discarding them to the floor beside us as I did so. To my surprise, for a guy who had been so rattled just a few moments before, he had a massive woody. I suppose it might be termed a "fear-hard." I have heard since of guys being aroused by scary situations.

I flipped the top sleeping bag off us and bent my mouth to it, sucking him in greedily, feeling him get even harder as I did so.

It was not long before flying saucers and aliens and owls were completely forgotten. Ron was ready to go!

"Turn over," he ordered. "I want to bummy you and shoot my load into you." I did as I was told, and with the help of a little hair grease and some spit, he slid his rock-hard dick into me. He fucked me hard and fast, and in minutes I felt him spasming as he shot his load into me. Spent, he lay still on top of me, his dick still inside me.

He made a move as if to roll off me.

"No," I cried. "Stay in me. Let's sleep like this. I want you in me all night."

"Aren't I too heavy for you?" he asked.

"No," I assured him. "I love it like this. I love you."

"I love you, too."

With that, he pulled the top sleeping bag back over us, and we drifted off.

Sometime during the night, he must have rolled off me, because when I awoke, we were both lying on our sides, face to face. Even before I opened my eyes, I knew he was awake and looking at me. I could feel a new tension between us.

I opened my eyes and looked directly into his. He kept staring at me.

"What is is," I whispered. "What's wrong?"

There was a long pause before he answered.

"There's something I have to tell you, " he said. "I've been putting it off for ages."

""What? What is it?" I demanded.

"Karen's pregnant," he whispered. "I have to marry her."

And with those few words, our last summer, and all our youth came to an end.

Continued in Part 5: Worlds Collide.

I would love to hear your comments: