Dillon

Devon McCourtney

For Devon McCourtney it was one of those days. And, he knew, it was only going to get worse.

Devon had recently developed a test that told him what sort of a day it was going to be. It began with his trip to the bathroom right after falling out of bed. (And most mornings he did, literally, fall out of bed.) After a stop at the toilet to pee, usually bent over because his morning erection was so stiff it was hard to get it to point down, he looked in the mirror. Although he never liked what he saw, some days were more cringe-worthy than others. Today ranked high on the cringe-worthy scale. It was going to be one of those days.

This morning Devon didn't know where to begin with his critique. While he liked the color and texture of his hair – jet black and silky – he had nothing kind to say about the way it laid on his head. A mop, his mom had once called it, and that seemed right to Devon. It covered his eye brows in front and his ears on the sides. It lay relatively flat on top then fell into a loose set of curls. What bothered him most about his hair was that it had a mind of its own. It defied the effort of any comb or brush to bring it into order. He had tried parting it various different ways and had even tried straightening it, but nothing worked.

Moving on from there, Devon considered his face. His face was full. In the middle resided a small, boyish nose. His complexion, while thankfully still untouched by acne, was pale and no amount of sun changed that. The only thing that changed with the sun and the seasons, and the thing that bothered Devon the most about his face, was his freckles. They dotted the bridge of his nose and grew more prominent the more time he spent out-of-doors. The whole combination; full face, petit nose, pale complexion, and freckles, made him look like a kid. And for Devon, a few short months from being an official teenager, nothing could be more demeaning.

Last, however, and most irksome, were his eyes. A more deeply rich pair of dark brown eyes was not to be found. In fact, they were so dark, some people remarked that they looked black. What was worse, his pale complexion and ebony hair seemed to set them off. They drew comments from everyone he met. Framed by a set of long, black eyelashes, women and girls claimed he had bedroom eyes. To Devon they were soft eyes, not the steely, sharp eyes of a Navy Seal, an NFL quarterback, or a mixed-martial arts champion.

Stepping up on his tiptoes – at least onto the toes of his left foot, the right one was still sore from his accident the other day – he examined the rest of his body. Overall, he was pleased. While not an athlete, he was active enough that he stayed nicely toned. His only complaint was how slow his development was compared to the other boys in his sixth grade class. Most had started their early teen growth spurt and that meant they were overtaking the girls in height. More importantly, their voices were deepening and thin mustaches were beginning to appear, all sure signs that hair was appearing elsewhere.

Abandoning the mirror, Devon cupped his balls and examined his genitals. His balls no longer clung tightly to his body and both his balls and his cock had deepened in color. More importantly, Devon was no longer cursed with the dry orgasms of a small boy. Now a small smattering of clear drops sprayed from his cock when he came. Still, he was anxious to cross that one important line. Yet even the most careful examination failed to reveal any pubic hair.

Cute was how the girls in school described him and cute was a curse, as far as Devon was concerned. Handsome was what he wanted, handsome is what got a guy a girlfriend. And handsome he was not.

With one last look in the mirror and a deep sigh, Devon decided to start this ominous day with a good, long, luxurious wank. After all, he had the house to himself; his mom having left for work a half hour ago. (She had come in to kiss him goodbye like she always did, not bothering to knock. When he reminded her that, since he was now a young man, she should show him more respect by knocking first, not sitting on his bed when he was in it, and not kissing him goodbye, she had laughed. That just served to drive him further into a bad mood.) And, he didn't have to be at the church parking lot until noon, when the troop would gather for the long ride to Scout camp. Plus, Devon suspected that chances to jerk off weren't going to be easy to come by at camp. And, it would be one last chance for Devon to work on his sexual conditioning. You see, Devon believed that he was at the age where his sexual orientation was being defined and Devon was determined to get it right.

He hobbled back to his bedroom which had exploded into a rather interesting mess since it was straightened up just last evening. These sorts of explosions seemed to follow Devon everywhere he went. His clothes from yesterday lay scattered on his floor, his bed covers were disheveled, and his books and music lay scattered about his desk. He grabbed his laptop before jumping back on his bed, kicked the covers down to the bottom, then sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed. That gave him a chance to examine the bottom of his right foot.

He had been crossing the lawn barefoot and stepped on some yard debris when the sharp end of a stick punctured the bottom of his foot. He did his best to clean it up and then bandaged it in a way his mother wouldn't notice. She was always nagging him to wear shoes when he went outside and he was determined not to give her more ammunition in her war. The puncture wound was red and puffy. Devon grimaced and squeezed a small amount of pus from it and decided he'd put another band-aide on after he was done wanking.

He leaned back onto his pillow and popped open his laptop and quickly navigated to one of his favorite porn sites. Devon had discovered, with the help of friends, that if you knew enough sites – and there were plenty to choose from – that you didn't need a subscription. There was always enough to see on the landing page to satisfy the lust of a twelve year-old boy.

Devon's plan for his sexual conditioning involved him wanking to images of girls or to images of guys fucking girls. If he was being honest with himself, Devon would admit he was concerned about his sexuality. And so, the more he wanked to girls or to straight sex, the more he was convinced those images would become his interest. It seemed to him, after all, a lot like the conditioning that the psychologist Pavlov had done with his dogs; ring a bell, they learned to salivate; wank to girls, he'd learn to like them. Having arrived at a site with girls on the front, Devon began to carelessly fondle himself with one hand while scanning the images on his screen.

Tits! What was the deal with tits Devon wondered? Most of the girls he was looking at seemed to be thrusting their tits out at him like they were some sort of treasure. Tits just didn't seem that interesting to him, although all his friends were wild about them. They were just baggy sacks of milk as far as Devon could tell. Why did guys find it fun to squeeze them and suck on them? Scanning the various images, he began to play with himself with more purpose, trying to get his cock to stiffen.

And pussies! What's the deal with pussies? A girl's pussy seemed to be defined by what wasn't there rather than by what was there. Devon zoomed in on the crotch of a pretty young girl with her legs spread and studied what he saw. Yuck! He thought. It was like a hairy, slimy, sticky hole. Why would anyone want to stick their cock in there?

Growing impatient, he surfed to a site that showed guys and girls together. Ahhh! He thought, that's more like it. He focused on the animated image of two teens going at it and felt his cock starting to stir. He liked the shape of the guy's ass as he poked his cock in and out of the girl. His legs were strong and flexed with his effort. And, he liked the curve of his back as he slammed in-and-out. This brought another website to mind, and, deciding that indulging himself this one last time wouldn't hurt his conditioning, he hurried there.

What popped up on his screen soon had Devon stroking his cock with more insistence. The boy appeared to be a young teen, but Devon knew he had to be at least eighteen. He was being fucked doggy style, a term Devon had recently learned, by an older man. The video showed all of the teen, but only the hips and belly of his older partner. Devon put the laptop on the bed beside him and switched to his right hand. He was better at this with his right hand, after all. He then raised his knees and put his left hand down between his legs and began to massage his anus with his middle finger. Then, when his finger was slippery, he pushed it in as far as it would go.

"Oh yes!" Devon enjoyed the sensation of his finger rubbing inside his rectum. "Oh fuck that twink! Fuck him hard!" he said out loud, quickening his pace. Devon wasn't sure why the actors talked that way in porn videos, but they all seemed to, so Devon had been trying to perfect it as well. "Oh yes! Fuck him with that big, hairy cock! Bang that boy-hole!" To be honest, it made him feel naughty and it made the sex more exciting and, an instant later, he was rewarded with a small spray of clear, sticky fluid on his belly.

***

Devon would not be at Scout camp if was up to him. About a year ago, his mother had waged a long, and eventually, successful campaign to get him into the organization. She thought that the presence of male role models would do him good, his own father no longer a part of Devon's life. Devon was now fighting a rearguard action trying to get out.

While Devon wasn't sure he needed a male role model in his life, he was sure was that this wasn't going to come from Scouts. The fathers that served as scoutmaster and assistant scoutmasters were certainly nice enough and certainly well meaning, but they were the very definition of neglectful leadership. They were quite content to let the boys be boys. They chose to spend their time sitting around camp in elaborate, and what Devon thought were probably expensive, camp chairs and whiled away their time discussing cars, hunting, and sports. Actual leadership was provided by the older boys elected to be senior patrol leader and patrol leaders.

Devon's attempts to quit Scouts continued to be met with firm resistance from his mother. When he resorted to passive resistance instead, she thwarted that just as effectively. He had, for example, simply failed to mention the troop's planned stay at summer camp. She however, wise to his ways, sought out the information, herself. And, when he tried to put his foot down and simply refuse to go, she countered by saying she was willing to consider his leaving Boy Scouts, but only if he gave the organization a real try.

So Devon found himself lying on a hard cot, on top of his sleeping bag, watching spots of sunlight dance across the roof of his tent. The odor of waterproofed canvas was so strong that he could smell nothing else. Last night, his first in camp, he had slept fitfully. He was quite unused to sleeping out-of-doors, let alone in the middle of the forest. Expecting it would be the deathly quiet that would keep him awake; Devon was surprised at the rich variety of night sounds. Quite a few different insects and birds were up and about and making themselves known to each other and to the Devon. And, once or twice, there was movement in the brush quite close to his tent that had him lying as still as possible, hoping not to be noticed.

At least his tent mate made things bearable. Aubrey had been his best friend in the troop since Devon arrived. And, like Devon, Aubrey really didn't want to be in scouting and certainly not at scout camp. But Aubrey had a dad who was an Eagle Scout and an older brother well on the way to being one as well, so Aubrey's fate was sealed as it related to scouting.

"Hey Dev, shouldn't you be in class," Aubrey asked as he burst into the tent. Mornings were dedicated to merit badge classes; afternoons were free time.

"Nah! I have to go take my swimming test." Devon had been dreading his swimming test ever since he learned of it. While Devon loved the water, he wasn't a strong swimmer. Not passing the test wouldn't keep him out of the lake, but it would exile him to the shallow area. And, while that wasn't too bad from Devon's point of view, he didn't like the stigma that went with it.

He looked at the small, white cardboard disc he had been fiddling with. On it was written his name and troop number. About an hour from now it would either be colored red or blue. The disc was his passport onto the swimming beach; he and his buddy – you had to swim with a buddy – would hang them on the peg board by the gate. Red would mean he was restricted to the shallow area; blue meant he could swim anywhere.

"Relax, Dev. It's easy."

"Yeah, we'll see."

***

Devon stood in the warm, morning sun looking over the fence that surrounded the swimming beach, the glare from the water and the sand making him squint. The smell from his suntan lotion blocked anything else; his towel hung over his shoulders. He had been told to report down here for his swimming test, but wasn't sure if he should just enter the gate or if he needed permission, first. He had been told that you had to show your disc to one of the camp counselors before you hung it on the peg board inside the gate, but the counselors he could see were busy teaching merit badge classes. Hearing shuffling in the sand behind him, Devon turned.

"You must be here for a swim test?" A young man smiled at Devon warmly. He looked just a bit older than the other counselors and had an air of authority. Devon assumed he was the swimming beach director.

"Umm… yeah!" Devon replied with a shrug.

"Well, come on. I'll get you started," and with a friendly hand on Devon's shoulder, he opened the gate and led him in.

"Hey Chris, is Aaron free? Got a scout here who needs a quick swim check."

A counselor working with a small group on the beach with throw ropes looked over to a group of scouts and counselors in the shallow area of the lake and then back. "He's helping with the beginners."

Devon followed the director out on to the dock that ran up one side of the swimming area. About one third of the way out, the dock turned and cut across, effective making a small, shallow cove; the beginner area. There, two or three counselors were giving swimming lessons. Watching for a moment, the director found who he was looking for.

"Hey Aaron, can you take a break for a swim check?"

Devon was stunned. The young teen that separated himself from the group was… was… well, Devon could find only one word to describe him, and that was gorgeous. He looked to be about fourteen, just a year or two older than Devon. His hair was as bleached by the sun as his body was tanned by it. His chest and arms were strong, his skin was smooth. His face was strong but kind. He looked like the sort of person you could walk right up to and talk to in the friendliest and most intimate way possible. But, what really struck Devon, and what held his gaze, were his eyes. The boy had the most amazing deep blue eyes.

Suddenly Devon realized he was being asked a question.

"Urrh… sorry, what?" Devon broke free from looking at the boy and looked back at the director.

"I didn't get your name," the director said amusedly.

"Oh… umm… Devon."

"Cool!" Then he turned to the boy pushing his way through the waist deep water. "Aaron, this is Devon."

Aaron looked up at the pair as this was said, and when he looked at him, Devon could have sworn he lost his composure. For a brief instant, Aaron's easy confidence gave way to a flustered look. He dropped his eyes and looked down at the water. But, when he looked back a moment later, his comfortable smile had returned.

"Hey Devon!" he said with a small wave, then he boosted himself onto the dock in a small spray of water. Devon couldn't help but stare as the water poured off of him, highlighting the curves and lines of his body. Then he caught himself and did his best to give a confident smile.

Aaron walked down the dock to the deeper side of the swimming area. Devon hobbled beside him. His right foot was becoming sorer and so he was walking on the outside of his foot. Aaron looked at him quizzically.

"You Ok?" he asked.

"Yeah, just got a small cut on my foot."

"Sit down for a sec and let me take a look."

Devon was torn for a minute as to how to reply. On the one hand, he didn't want to make a big deal of it, but the thought of having Aaron's attention was attractive. Finally he decided and sat on the dock.

Aaron crouched in front of him and gentle raised his foot, grimacing as he did. "Ouch, that doesn't look good," he announced. "I think you should go up to the clinic and get that looked at."

Devon thought about this. It was probably a smart thing to do but he couldn't tear himself away from Aaron. Finally he hit on a compromise.

"Hmm… how about I do the swim test and then go up?" he offered. And it was agreed.

"Ok! All I need you to do is to jump in, swim out a little away from the dock, then swim two full lengths from one side of the swimming area to the other. Jump in feet first and start whenever you're ready."

Devon looked and didn't think it was going to be that difficult. The swimming area was twenty-five yards wide, at most. A fifty yard swim and he was done. Devon moved to the edge. The lake water was cloudy enough that Devon couldn't see the bottom, and that bothered him, so he hesitated. Then, he took a deep breath and stepped off.

Two things surprised Devon; first, the water was shallow enough that he could touch the bottom. Second, the water wasn't cold at all. In fact, it was quite comfortable. These two things bolstered his confidence, and so he moved out away from the dock and began.

Swimming to his right, first, he quickly reached the buoyed line that marked the edge of the swimming area and turned, his feet brushing the bottom as he did. He now swam confidently in the other direction, Aaron following him on the dock, a rescue hook in hand.

Reaching the buoyed line on the other side, Devon realized that he had only to make his turn and return to where he started and he'd been done, but that proved harder than he thought. His stomach jumped in fear when he found that this side of the swimming area was deeper and his foot, unexpectedly, never touched bottom. Then he felt something brush against his leg and he panicked.

His head dropped under briefly. And, when he came up, it felt like he couldn't get his head out of the water high enough to breathe. He felt like he was trying to swim, but couldn't seem to get anywhere. Instead, he seemed to be just splashing about. Then he heard Aaron's voice.

"Devon! Devon! You're Ok!" he said reassuringly. "Swim here."

"I can't, I can't."

"Yes, you can," Aaron replied with confidence. He was on his knees on the edge of the dock, rescue hook ready.

Devon wished he would extend the hook. He didn't feel like he was going to last much longer.

"Devon! Swim here, buddy. You can make it."

Devon felt himself make progress and a tiny bit of confidence returned. Aaron kept close watch and continued to encourage him, and suddenly he was at a ladder at the end of the dock. He started to scramble up when there was a splash and Aaron appeared in the water next to him.

"Stay here for a sec. Don't get out of the water yet." Aaron and Devon both clung to the ladder, close enough that their shoulders rubbed against each other. Devon was bothered by the touch, it almost seemed intimate, but Aaron seemed unfazed.

"Rather than leaving the water on a bad note, let's make sure you have some fun before you get out."

"I'm sorry; I'm not sure what happened. I've never had that happen before." Devon felt like he should be embarrassed, but he wasn't. Instead he felt like there was a tension between he and Aaron, and it was an exciting type of tension.

"Don't worry about it," Aaron said. "I've seen it before. Your foot touches the bottom on one side so it can feel a bit freaky when you get to the other side and it doesn't."

"Something touched my leg," Devon said, shivering at the recollection.

"Ahh! Must have been some lake weed. The swimming area's pretty clear of it, but it does grow along the edge."

"So, why didn't you just turn over and float?" Aaron asked after a pause.

Devon looked at Aaron, then looked away. He had to look away. Aaron was so close that Devon would only have to lean over in order to kiss him. And, for some reason, the desire to kiss him was overwhelming.

Devon looked forward and shrugged. The truth was that Devon had never learned to float. Any time he had tried, he always sank right to the bottom.

Aaron seemed to sense this. "Come on, follow me to where it's not as deep and I'll teach you how."

The two boys walked hand-over-hand along the dock to the shallow area, there Aaron stood and moved out to give them space. Then he reached out with both hands, grabbed Devon gently by the sides and pulled him close. "Now, just lay back, relax all your muscles. I'll support you and make sure you don't go under."

Aaron's touch was like electricity and Devon became instantly hard.

"Umm… I can't," said Devon, pushing away a bit.

"Sure you can. Don't worry. I'll hold you."

"No, you don't understand. I can't. Not right now, anyway."

Aaron looked at him perplexed, then he smiled and laughed. Devon felt his face go red, and, with his pale skin, he knew it showed.

"Don't sweat it," Aaron said. "Happens all the time to me too. And always at the worst moment. I was in math class once, daydreaming, and got called on to do a problem at the board."

Devon laughed at that. "What did you do?"

"Stalled."

The two boys stared at each other for a moment. The tension Devon had felt seemed to be gone. Instead, he felt comfortable with Aaron, like he was an old friend.

"So," Aaron began, breaking the silence, "let's get you out of the water. You need to get up to the clinic and have that foot looked at." And he led the way back to the ladder.

"You ok to get out," Aaron asked when they arrived, grinning as he did.

"Yes, better now," Devon reddened again.

"Oh, by the way, congrats. You passed."

"Really?"

"Yep. But, I want you to be careful and work on your strokes before you venture far from the dock."

"Ok!" Devon was grinning. This was turning out to be a great day.

"Heh, one more thing," Aaron called after him. Devon stopped and turned. "If you'd like, I'd be happy to give you some swimming lessons.

"Really! That'd be cool."

"Yeah! Come back after lunch."

***

The walk down to the swimming beach was even more painful than before. He had never gone to the camp clinic, sure that they wouldn't let him return to the lake. Devon was limping pretty badly and was passed by hordes of boys who raced down the path, their towels over their shoulders, chatting excitedly. To Devon, the day seemed to have turned cold and he was shivering, yet the other boys didn't seem to notice. And, oddly enough, Devon was sweating.

Aaron was waiting by the peg board when Devon arrived and smiled warmly. He took Devon's disc, now colored blue, and hung it with his own, as they would be buddies for the afternoon. Then, before turning and heading to the edge of the water, he looked at Devon a second time.

"You ok Devon?" he asked with concern.

"Yeah! I'm fine." Devon didn't want anything to interfere with his afternoon.

"Seriously, you're real pale."

"Nah, I'm OK!" Strangely, just as Devon said this, he began to feel a bit wobbly and weak. And, strangely, the edges of his vision began to fade; it was almost as if he was looking at the world through a toilet paper roll. Devon dropped his head – it seemed to have gotten very heavy all of the sudden – and looked down at the sand and noticed, oddly, that it seemed to be rushing up at him.

The world seemed to come at him in snatches after that. Devon knew that it shouldn't be like that, but he wasn't bothered by it; he just took what came to him and smiled. He saw Aaron kneeling over him, his face a mask of worry; he tasted sand in his mouth and felt Aaron wiping it gently off his face. He heard a frantic voice saying "No! No! I've got him," and then realized it was Aaron's. Then he was in Aaron's arms. Aaron was panting heavily and running up the hill toward camp through the cold sunshine. Devon heard Aaron's feet pounding on the ground and felt himself jostled in time with his steps. Devon felt the warmth of Aaron's chest, his skin slick with sweat and suntan lotion. Then the world went blank.

***

Devon woke to a cool summer breeze wafting gently in through the infirmary window. The breeze made the light curtain roll lazily and it gave Devon glimpses of a nearly full moon. He absently reached over with his right hand and fingered the IV port that the doctor had left in his arm. Everyone told Devon he had been lucky that the camp doctor was making his weekly visit and had been there to treat him; otherwise he'd be lying in a hospital bed. A bag full of IV fluids and a shot of antibiotics had turned the situation around. He'd get another injection of antibiotics through the port in the morning, then it would be removed. Talking his mother out of coming and taking him home had been a struggle. First, he had to get her past the shock of him wanting to stay. Fortunately, the doctor had pointed out that the state of Devon's recovery would be clear by tomorrow morning and that it was best that Devon stay where he was. If he wasn't getting better by the morning, it would be off to the hospital, regardless of whether he was at camp or at home.

Devon rolled onto his side and looked at the main reason why he wanted to stay. On a cot identical to his own on the other side of the room, lay Aaron. Aaron had been one of the first people he saw when he finally could make sense of the world again. He had been standing in the background, nervously chewing on a fingernail, while others hustled around the room.

Devon's most pressing need at the moment was to pee. Two things kept Devon from just hopping up and taking care of it. First, he hadn't been in the infirmary before and didn't know where the bathroom was. The doctor felt it best that Devon spend the night here rather than in his tent. And, the doctor also wanted someone here with him in case he needed help; and that was the reason why Aaron was across the room. The other thing that kept Devon from going on his own was that he was told not to put weight on his right foot. So, Devon did the only thing he could think of.

Throwing back the covers, he sat on the edge of the cot. Then, balancing on one foot, he hopped over to where Aaron lay. His intention was to wake Aaron and have him show him the way to the bathroom, if not also help him there. Instead, he stood there for a moment in the quiet and the moonlight and studied him. Aaron was handsome, there was no doubt about it; handsome like Devon wished he was. His cheekbones were high and strong but his face was kind. But, Devon was really drawn to his lips and he found himself with the weird desire to bend over and kiss him.

His feelings about Aaron were confusing and Devon struggled to sort them out. Aaron was comfortable to be around, he had a way of making Devon feel like an old friend, someone he could, well, just be himself with. But there was more to it than that. After all, Devon had many friends that made him feel that way. Aubrey was someone that Devon considered a friend and he was comfortable around Aubrey, as well. He was comfortable with him in silence and in conversation. He was comfortable doing stuff with Aubrey or just laying around doing nothing. No, being around Aaron was different somehow. Quietly and softly, Devon sat down on the cot next to Aaron and studied him some more.

Devon had known Aaron for less than a day, but, somehow, Aaron was bigger in his life than Aubrey was. Devin didn't think about Aubrey all that much when Aubrey wasn't around, but he hadn't been able to get Aaron out of his head. Devon wondered what Aaron had been doing for lunch, who he had been with, what he had been talking about. He wondered what had he eaten, if he been happy; who had he had been talking with? The more he pondered it, the more he realized that what he really wondered was whether or not Aaron had thought about him when they were apart.

More confusing to Devon was that he had to acknowledge that he felt a physical attraction toward Aaron as well. More than anything, Devon wanted to peel back the covers and drink in Aaron's body. He wanted to trace the lines of his body. He loved the curve of his biceps. He wanted to press his cheek softly against Aaron's, and to wrap his arms around his neck and draw him close. He wanted to run his finger down the line of his hips and follow it to his groin. He wanted to run his hand over the full, firm mounds that were his ass. He wanted to bury his nose in Aaron's crotch and draw into his lungs the odor that was most uniquely Aaron. And, more than anything, he wanted to take Aaron's cock into his hand, to feel the silky, warm firmness, and to draw it into his mouth and taste it.

Where these feelings were coming from, Devon couldn't say. He tried to shake them from his head. After all, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Devon was supposed to be developing an interest in girls. Already some boys in his class had girlfriends. They talked about hanging out and making out. One or two even claimed to have gotten to first base. (Devon never could keep the bases straight and he wasn't sure exactly what each meant. He was only sure what striking out meant, or what not even getting out of the batter's box meant. After all, that's where he was at.)

Suddenly coming back to himself, Devon saw that his hand was caressing Aaron's shoulder and that Aaron was awake and looking at him.

"Dev! Are you ok? Is something wrong?" Aaron shot up and sat on the edge of the cot, his voice full of concern.

"Nah, I'm ok. I just need to pee really bad," Devon said. Devon was suddenly aware that he had an erection and quickly covered it by dropping his hands into his lap. Devon liked that Aaron called him 'Dev' instead of 'Devon', for some reason. Again Devon found that their shoulders rubbed against each other and again he felt the electricity from the touch travel through his body to his groin.

Aaron stood and stretched, and Devon watched as he did. Again Devon found his imagination take him away. He found himself wanting their bodies together. He wanted to be laying on top of Aaron with nothing between them. He wanted to grind their hips together and to feel the heat of their bodies. He wanted to feel Aaron's lips against his own; he wanted to taste Aaron's breath.

Aaron then bent over, placed one arm under Devon's arm and the other under his knees.

"Put an arm around my neck," he commanded.

Devon put one hand on Aaron's chest and held him away, the other stayed in his lap, covering himself. "Umm… can we wait a minute," he said.

Aaron hesitated, confused, then glanced at Devon's hands in his lap and chuckled. "Well, clearly you're feeling better."

Again Devon felt himself go red, thankful that the darkness covered his embarrassment.

"You worried me earlier," Aaron said softly.

Devon looked at him with hope. "Really!"

"Yeah! You were really out of it."

"I really should have gone to the clinic when you told me to."

"Why didn't you?"

Devon found this question difficult to answer, so he just shrugged. "We can probably go now."

Devon wrapped an arm around Aaron's neck. Devon could tell he was straining to lift him, the two boys not being that different in size, and he would have offered to hop to the bathroom if Aaron would support him, but it felt too good being in Aaron's arms to want to get down. His skin was warm and silky.

Maneuvering to the bathroom proved a challenge, but, after a bump and scrape here and there, eventually the two made it. Then Aaron left Devon to manage on his own and, pulling the door closed behind him, he told Devon to call when he was done.

Sitting was easier than standing and trying to balance, so he did. He then hopped to the sink to wash his hands. Devon usually didn't bother with washing his hands. He argued with his mom that his penis (his mother insisted that it be referred to as his 'penis' instead of his 'dick' or his 'cock') was the cleanest part of his body and there was no need to wash his hands if he didn't get pee on them. Still, he didn't want Aaron to think he was crude, so he did, then he called to Aaron to let him know he was done.

In the days to come, Devon would look back on what happened next as both the worst and the best moment of his life, although he was never really sure why he did it. Maybe it was the way Aaron smelled or the warmth of his skin. Regardless, growing comfortable with Aaron carrying him, Devon laid his head against Aaron's chest. Aaron had a clean, youthful smell that Devon felt he could enjoy all day. He watched the way Aaron's muscles flexed as he worked to carry him. Absent-mindedly, his free hand began to trace the outline of Aaron's collar bone. Finally, the urge became unbearable, and Devon leaned in, buried his face in Aaron's neck, and kissed him.

Devon was mortified by what he had done. He had just kissed a boy! He expected Aaron to drop him right there in the middle of the hallway and walk off in disgust. More than that, he was terribly confused. On the one hand, what he had just done felt so right, on the other hand, it was against all his conditioning, against all his attempts to make himself normal.

The kiss brought Aaron to a stop. Devon could tell that Aaron was looking at him, but he couldn't bring himself to look back; to see the disgust in his eyes. Then, to Devon's great surprise, he felt Aaron lean down and kiss him on the forehead.

Bumping a bit as they squeezed through the door back into the infirmary, Aaron brought Devon back to his cot. They were almost there when Aaron stumbled and Devon was more dumped on his cot then gently lowered. The two boys laughed at this, their faces inches apart, Aaron's arms still around Devon's back and under his knees, Devon's arms still around Aaron's neck. A strong breeze fluttered the curtain and Devon felt it cool his body at the same time that he felt Aaron's warm breath on his face. He watched Aaron and could read the indecision on his face, then Aaron leaned in and kissed Devon again, but this time on the lips.

If rubbing shoulders with Aaron was electric, Devon realized it was like the tingle of a flashlight battery compared to the lightening bolt that now traveled from his lips to his groin. Devon instantly felt harder than he had ever felt before, as if he might explode without ever touching himself. He was panting heavily as they parted, but he didn't let Aaron pull back more than an inch, his arms tightening around Aaron's neck, pulling him back to him. Then he felt Aaron's weight as he joined him on the small cot, their chests and thighs coming together. Devon felt his erection pressing against Aaron, keeping their hips apart, then he realized he felt Aaron's erection poking him in the hip as well. And then, thinking he had never been this excited in his life, he felt Aaron's tongue against his lips and he eagerly gulped it in. Devon was mewling now. He felt like there was no such thing as being too close and he frantically began to try to crawl up on Aaron. Aaron's arms were around him now, pulling him tight.

Yet, as all this was happening, a small voice inside of Devon was calling to him. It was faint at first and easily drowned by the passion of the moment. But slowly it became more insistent. Devon found the voice began to distract him, and that the distraction began to cool his fever. Then, when Aaron's hand left his back and traveled down between them, when it began to softly grope the front of his underwear, the voice screamed at him.

"NO! No! I can't," Devon cried, breaking free from Aaron's embrace and sitting up in bed. He brought his knees close, hugged them tightly, and stared at the wall at the end of his cot, unable to meet Aaron's eyes.

"Devon! What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I just can't," Devon responded, still panting. He was working hard not to cry, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. It was all too confusing; too much to think about.

"I'm sorry Dev. I guess I was going too fast." Devon could hear the regret in Aaron's voice and felt Aaron's light touch on his shoulder.

"No, no, really; it's me. I just can't."

"Do you want to talk about –"

"No, I just can't," came the only reply, and Devon fell back on the bed facing the wall. He continued to feel the heat from Aaron's body and felt his weight on the cot. Then, after a few minutes, he heard the cot groan as Aaron rose, and, a moment later, heard the rustle of sheets as Aaron returned to his own bed.

Devon lay quietly; Aaron lay just as still. At times Devon's vision grew blurry as tears welled up and fell. He never felt as confused as he did now; torn between an overwhelming desire and the undeniable feeling that the desire was wrong. He turned the dilemma over-and-over in his mind and only succeeded in confusing himself more. And, although he was sure that he was too upset to sleep, he eventually slipped off as the moon cleared his window and the room faded into darkness.

***

Devon sat cross-legged on his cot, his back slumped against the wall, his mood as dark as his hair. He stared across the room at the cot that Aaron had used the night before. Beside him was a breakfast tray untouched except for the orange juice and toast. He hadn't had the stomach for anything else. He was dressed except for his sneakers.

Aaron was gone when he woke up; one of the other counselors having taken his place. He had made his trip to the bathroom on a pair of crutches; crutches that he learned had been in the room, ready for his use, all along.

His foot was clearly better. He didn't need the doctor to tell him that. Still, it was the one last hurdle before he was released back into camp. This he dreaded more than anything. More than anything, Devon just wanted to go home. He wondered how he would handle this with his mom. Yesterday he had begged her to stay; now he was going to beg to leave? Devon realized he would have no success.

Devon barely looked up when the doctor came in. Although Devon didn't recognize him from yesterday, it could be no one else. He was the only adult not in a Scout uniform. Devon sat quietly as the old bandage was removed and was replaced by a new one. Then the doctor injected another dose of antibiotic in Devon's IV port before removing it.

"Well, I'd tell you your foot looks great and that I think it's fine for you to stay and finish your time at camp, but it looks like you have bigger things on your mind."

This declaration startled Devon and he stared at the doctor in surprise. As he did, Devon realized that he was really seeing him for the first time and that what he saw made him feel comfortable. The man had salt-and-pepper hair and a wise and understanding look.

"Oh! Sorry. Thanks," Devon mumbled, looking away. Then he looked back and assessed the man one more time. "Say," Devon began, looking down and plucking at the hem of his shorts, "if a patient shares a secret, does a doctor have to keep that secret?" he asked.

"Yes, absolutely. The only time I, or any doctor, can break patient-client privilege is if I learn that the patient is thinking about hurting himself or someone else. The only other time I can tell something a patient tells me is if the patient is being molested or abused. Then I'm bound by law to tell the police."

Devon hadn't considered this before. Had Aaron molested him last night? No… wait… that couldn't be. After all, he had kissed Aaron first. So, had he molested Aaron? But that was only on the neck, that wouldn't count. Aaron had been the first one to kiss him on the lips. But… that wasn't being molested. Yet Aaron had touched his… but, well, he didn't actually touch it because Devon still had his underwear on when… Oh Fuck it! Devon decided.

"Look, I have this friend," he began, and for a moment he thought he saw the flicker of a smile cross the doctor's face. "And, he's been kinda confused about… well…" Devon stumbled.

"And your friend has a question about sex," the doctor filled in.

Devon felt himself go pale. "Err… kind of. How did you know?"

Now the smile came back to the doctor's face and stayed. "Because sex is the hardest thing for anyone to talk about. And whenever a patient is trying to describe a problem, or ask a question, and they can't, it's usually because it's about sex."

"Move over Devon," he said in a friendly fashion, and he cleared his satchel from the bed, gave Devon a gentle shove to one side, and joined Devon on the bed, his back to the wall. Devon looked at him one more time and his uncertainty vanished.

It took Devon a while, but finally he was able to begin. "So… umm… my friend, see, he's trying to make sure that he's normal, so he's been –"

"Wait! Let me interrupt for a second. What do you mean by 'make sure he's normal?'" the doctor asked.

"You know," Devon replied, confused by the question. "Umm… he wants to make sure he has a girlfriend and all that stuff."

"Is your friend concerned that he's gay?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" Devon answered quickly, caught off guard by the question. "It's just that he's been doing his conditioning and he's not sure it's working."

The doctor stared at Devon with a puzzled look. "Conditioning? I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"You know, like Pavlov's dogs and all that."

The doctor continued to stare, then said slowly, "Well, I know about classical conditioning and Ivan Pavlov." Then there was a pause. "Oh, wait… hmm… is your friend masturbating to pictures of girls hoping it will make him like them?"

"Yes! Yes! That's it, exactly!"

"But it's not working that well, I suppose?"

"Well, no. Not completely."

"Not completely?"

"Well, not really all that much."

There was another pause while the doctor watched Devon, clearly weighing what to say next. "Look, Devon, I've got some news for your friend that he may not like. You see, a person's sexual orientation, who they're attracted to, whether they're gay or straight, can't be changed by conditioning."

Devon stared at the doctor and felt a panic begin to build. "Well, what can I do?" he asked, desperate for an answer.

"Devon, all that we know tells us that a person's sexuality is determined at birth and can't be changed."

Devon felt himself go pale. He looked away and blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears from his eyes. He felt the doctor watching him closely.

"Devon, something tells me that your friend is around your age, am I right?" the doctor asked. Devon just nodded.

"Ok, look. First, why do either you, or your friend, feel the need to label yourselves?"

"I don't understand," Devon said as he looked up at the kind face next to him.

"Why do you feel the need to decide if you're gay, or straight, or bisexual, or anything at all?"

Devon stared at the far wall and pondered this. He had never considered that not labeling himself was an option. He felt it important to know if he was gay or straight, but, now that he thought about it, he didn't know why.

The doctor continued. "It's pretty common for boys becoming young men to feel a lot of conflicting feelings about sex and sexual attraction. While some are certain that they're gay or that they're straight, for others, it's not so clear. It's pretty typical for young teens, like you, to have sexual thoughts about other boys, but that often changes as you get older."

"Well, how do you figure it out?"

The doctor gave a small laugh. "It works itself out all on its own. At some point you'll just know."

Devon sat quietly, trying to make sense of all he had just heard. He wasn't sure at all it was any less confusing. What he was sure of was that he was less upset than before. The thought that others, perhaps Aubrey, perhaps his other friends from school, were going through the same thing, was strangely comforting.

"Devon, one last thing." Devon turned and looked at the strong, confident, comforting figure beside him. "Devon, just follow your heart. Wherever your heart leads will be the right place for you to go."

Devon found himself startled by this advice. Most of the time adults took simple things and made them complicated. This was the first time he could ever remember that an adult took something complicated and made it simple.

"But… umm… how can I tell the difference between what my heart wants and what my… you know," Devon stumbled on the word, feeling himself reddening, "my penis wants?"

The doctor laughed once again. "You mean what your cock wants?" And, Devon giggled and nodded.

"Well, Devon, they are often the same thing. Feelings of love usually go along with being attracted to someone sexually. That's not a problem. But sometimes you may find yourself with someone and you'll just want to use them sexually. There will be no love there."

"But how will I know?"

"Trust me, you will."

***

Devon sat with his back against a large maple at the top of the hill looking down over the lake. He was supposed to be resting in camp, in his tent. The antibiotics he was taking were supposed to make him tired. They were also supposed to make him susceptible to sunburn. But Devon couldn't stand being cooped up; he had to get out. If nothing else, he just needed to be away from the rest of the troop, even from Aubrey, just so he could think.

Sitting under the tree kept him out of the sun. It also meant that, although he had a clear view of the lake and the swimming beach, it was difficult for anyone at the swimming beach to see him. He had waited until after the first rush of scouts went by before he found this place to sit. And while traffic to the lake was still steady, most scouts paid him little attention.

He sat and watched and tried to sort through his feelings. He could see Aaron pacing up and down the dock, watching the swimmers, serving as life guard. He had wondered what Aaron was doing and what he was thinking. He felt crushed that Aaron hadn't been there this morning when he woke up and that had contributed to his dark mood. He had passed the counselors from the swimming area on their way up to lunch as he was hobbling back to his campsite from the clinic. They had all greeted him, as his fainting at the swimming beach had brought him some notoriety at camp. All except Aaron that is; Aaron had just looked at him with an expression that Devon couldn't read.

Devon would do anything to take back what happened the night before. He had been a fool; that was clear. No, that wasn't quite fair, he hadn't been a fool; he had been scared. Scared of the very intense feelings, scared of showing Aaron how naive he was about sex, scared of showing Aaron how he felt. And, he was scared of falling in love when there was a chance that Aaron didn't love him back. How devastating it would be to throw yourself at the feet of another boy, to open yourself up, to expose yourself, only to have them use you for sex and then to laugh in your face.

But, was that a fair judgment of Aaron? Devon thought back to all of his encounters with him and there was nothing he could see that would lead him to conclude that Aaron was that sort of person. Aaron seemed so warm, so kind. Devon just couldn't imagine him hurting anyone like that. Still, Devon thought, to be exposed as someone who liked boys would be more than he could bear. He would be tormented at camp and, Devon had no doubt, it would follow him back to school and haunt him there. There was no way he could bring himself to do that.

A rustling in the leaves beside him startled Devon out of his reverie. The swimming beach director was crouched beside him, studying him and smiling.

"Looks like you're feeling much better."

"Umm… yeah," Devon replied.

"Let me guess, you're supposed to be on bed rest," the young man said. Devon just looked down and smiled. "Yep, just as I thought." The man studied Devon some more, then he looked down to the swimming beach where Aaron continued his patrol. After a moment, he looked back at Devon and smiled again.

"You know, Aaron insisted on being the one to carry you up. The rest of us are all bigger and stronger. We all knew it would be easier for one of us to do it. But Aaron insisted; wouldn't have it any other way. He seemed real worried about you."

Devon could think of nothing to say. He stared at the man for a moment, then looked down at Aaron on the dock, then down at his hands. He picked up a twig from the ground and twisted it about.

The man watched him in silence for a moment, then clasped him on the knee.

"Well, I gotta go. See you around Devon." And he strode on down the path.

Devon watched him go down to the beach, through the gate, and onto the dock. As he passed Aaron he paused, leaned in close, and whispered something to him. Aaron's gaze shot up to the tree where Devon sat and their eyes met. And, Devon suddenly knew exactly where his heart was leading him.

***

A year or two back, Devon had been asking his mom about love. He had always enjoyed the story of how his mother and father had met. She had seen him at a college party and knew right away he was the man she was going to marry. He never understood how she could commit to someone whom she hadn't even met. What if she loved him but he didn't love her?

"Devon," she had begun, "love is never safe. If you think you love someone, you have to take the plunge; you just have to step off the cliff screaming like a banshee as you do." Devon had decided this was his time to step off the cliff, screaming like a banshee.

Devon sat under the same tree at the top of the hill as yesterday, his crutches on the ground beside him. It was early and most activity was still confined to the various troop campsites. A soft, thin mist rose from the lake, catching the gold from the early morning sun. That gold also covered Devon as he sat and waited, the sun being low enough that it colored the ground under the tree. Devon was nervous, his stomach had butterflies and his hands were sweaty. Yet, despite his fear, there was no more determined boy on the face of the planet. And soon he heard the approach of the counselors that were on their way to the swimming beach. Devon stood, leaning on his crutches, and waited.

"Aaron!" he called out timidly. No one heard, and the counselors, Aaron included, continued past, talking excitedly as they went. Wiping his hands on his pants and speaking more loudly, Devon called again. "Aaron!"

With this, the group stopped as one and turned in surprise. Not just Aaron, but all of them. They were clearly unused to seeing a scout out-and-about this early. They stared at Devon who found himself tongue-tied. Then the swimming beach director stepped forward, smiled at Devon and said, "Let's go guys. We need to get ready for the morning. Aaron, catch up when you're done talking." And, winking at Devon, he led the group off.

Aaron continued to stare at Devon uncomfortably, then looked around at the trees.

"Hi!" Devon said in a small voice, suddenly unsure of himself again. His hands on the grip of his crutches, he stepped from under the tree to the path.

"Hi!" Aaron replied. "You look pretty good… I mean like you're feeling much better."

"Yeah, yeah, I am."

There was another silence as both boys looked away; Devon at the trees; Aaron made a small circle with the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. Then, just as Devon was framing his thoughts and getting ready to speak again, he heard Aaron start.

"Look Devon, I'm really, really sorry about the other night. I mean, I really didn't mean to freak you out. I never should have… you know," and he shrugged uncomfortably.

"No, no, Aaron –"

But Aaron broke him off. "So, like, I know you could have said something to someone and that you would have been right to say something, but I appreciate the fact that you didn't."

"No, Aaron, listen. It was me! It was me all along." And here Devon sputtered and stumbled for the right words. Aaron was about to continue but stopped and watched Devon from under his brow; watched hesitantly and curiously. Devon continued to struggle, starting and stopping many times, too flustered to find the right words. Finally he blurted out, "Damn it Aaron, it's simple, I'm ready to step off the cliff and scream."

"Huh?" Aaron looked at Devon with confusion.

"You know what I mean," he said emphatically. Then, "Oh, wait, you don't, do you."

"Umm… no Devon, you're confusing me."

"Ok!" Devon sighed. "Look, you promised me a swimming lesson, right?"

"Yes," Aaron said slowly.

"So, are you good for it?"

Aaron looked at Devon. "Sure."

"OK, well the problem is that the antibiotic makes me sensitive to the sun. So, my lesson can't be during the day. You'll have to teach me at night."

"But Devon the beach is closed."

"But what if it were a private lesson."

Aaron looked at him curiously. "Ok," and his voice trailed off waiting for more.

"So, you'll meet me there at midnight, tonight, at the beach I mean, tonight?" and there was a pause. "Ok?" he almost pleaded.

Aaron's answer was slow in coming as his face wavered between confusion, curiosity, and hope. "Devon, what's this all about?"

"I'm following my heart, alright!" Devon replied hard and impatiently, his voice full of emotion, tears floating at the edge of his eyes. "We good?"

"We're good."

***

Devon and Aaron stood on the beach in the warm, summer night air. The light from the full moon made the lake ripple with silver. Up until an hour ago, faint voices and occasional laughter could be heard, carried on the breeze from the campsites above. Now the camp was dark and quiet.

"Are you sure you're allowed in the water?" Aaron asked suspiciously.

"Well, I was told I could shower and this doesn't seem much different."

"Yeah, but the lake water's not as clean as shower water."

"Yeah, I know. So I brought some peroxide to wash my foot off later."

"OK," Aaron replied, not completely convinced. "So, you going to get changed?" he asked, after another pause. Devon had come down in shorts and a t-shirt; sandals on his feet.

"I forgot it," Devon replied nonchalantly.

"You remembered peroxide and your towel, but you forgot your bathing suit?" Aaron asked incredulously.

"Yup!" Devon took a deep breath, realizing that this was the moment that he stepped off the cliff. Tucking his crutches under his arm, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and pushed his shorts down into the sand and hopped out of them. He felt the warm breeze over his now bare mid-section. Then, without looking at Aaron he said, "I can't get my crutches wet. You'll have to carry me out into the water."

Devon stood looking over the water, not daring to glance over at Aaron, unable to face the chance that Aaron would walk away. Then, after a few moments that seemed like hours, he heard Aaron say.

"It doesn't seem fair that I use a bathing suit and you don't?" Hearing a rustle, Devon looked and saw Aaron stepping out of his own shorts. His pale groin seemed to glow compared to the rest of his brown body, and Devon saw the faint trace of a small patch of hair above his cock. Then Aaron stepped toward him and Devon dropped his crutches, balanced on one foot, and stretched out his arms to wrap them around Aaron's neck. And Aaron, like twice before, stooped and took the smaller boy into his arms.

This time Devon never hesitated. He buried his head into Aaron's chest and inhaled deeply once again. His first kiss was on Aaron's shoulder, the next one on his neck, the third on Aaron's soft, downy cheek. But, when he went to plant another, he met Aaron's mouth, instead. And this time it was Devon's tongue that parted their lips and he kissed Aaron as deeply as he could.

Aaron carried Devon into the water until it was about waist deep, then over to the dock where he sat Devon on the edge, his legs dangling in the water. He then stepped in between his legs and kissed him again.

"Ahh… I don't think I can learn to float here," Devon said softly, and they kissed again.

"Well… I wasn't really planning on teaching you how to float," Aaron replied after a moment.

"Really! Are you going to teach me some other sort of stroke?"

"Oh… you might say that," Aaron replied with a grin, and he pulled Devon close again.

Both boys were breathing heavily when they broke free. "Lean back a little Dev," Aaron directed, and he pushed gently on Devon's chest. Devon leaned back onto his hands; unsure what would come next, but eager all the same. And then he found out.

With a wolfish grin, Aaron plunged down onto Devon's cock and swallowed it whole, then he began to bob up-and-down, his tongue running along the underside of Devon's cock with each stroke.

"OH FUCK!" Devon gasped. He could not believe what he was seeing or what he was feeling. He had seen men get blow jobs on porn sites before, but never imagined it would happen to him. "Oh fuck!" he gasped again, and he brought one hand up and ran his fingers through Aaron's hair.

Aaron held Devon's cock steady with one hand, the other came up and began to fondle Devon's balls. Devon hissed at this new sensation and began to grind his hips on the dock; he wasn't sure why, he just felt like he had to. Up-and-down Aaron continued, the wonderful, warm sensation threatening to overwhelm Devon. Then Aaron's hand dropped his balls and began to rub below Devon's crotch and between his legs.

Devon instinctively spread his legs wider and leaned back on his elbows trying to encourage Aaron toward his anus, and Aaron seemed to sense this. He broke free and looked at Devon.

"Look, Dev, if I do anything you don't want, just say the word and I'll stop." Devon couldn't speak he was so desperate for Aaron to continue, he merely nodded vigorously. Then he reached down and pushed Aaron's hand further between his legs.

Aaron, watching Devon closely, brought a finger to his lips and wet it, then brought it back between Devon's legs, gently parted his cheeks, and began to massage Devon's anus. Then, as he returned to sucking Devon's cock, he slowly pushed it inside.

Devon's mind was ablaze as he felt Aaron's finger fill him up and begin to explore his sensitive insides, sliding out, then returning. Devon felt out-of-control. He couldn't watch any more and he threw his head back and closed his eyes.

"Oh! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck yes! Oh god, fuck! Oh suck me, Aaron. Suck me. Suck me good. You know you want to suck me. Suck my cock. Suck my hard cock. Suck that big, fat, juicy, hairy cock!"

It took Devon a moment to realize what he had just said. In fact, he probably would never have realized it, except that Aaron had stopped. His finger was still and his mouth had stopped sucking. Devon heard a pop as his cock came free and he felt an emptiness as Aaron's finger left his anus.

Devon watched horrified as Aaron stood slowly. Then, Aaron reached out and gathered Devon into his arms. He cocked his head to one side and looked at Devon with a grin.

"Devon McCourtney, have you been watching porn?" he asked softly.

Devon gave a small, embarrassed nod. Aaron leaned in, gave Devon a small kiss, and Devon realized Aaron was giggling.

"Devon, from now on, the only porn you watch is the porn that you and I make. Got me?"

"Ok," Devon said in a small voice.

"And, Devon, I hate to break it to you, but your cock is not big; it is not fat; it is not juicy; and it certainly is not hairy."

Devon nodded; his eyes down.

"Do you know what your cock is?"

Devon shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Aaron's.

"Devon, your cock is perfect!" And with that, Aaron leaned in again, and Devon gave him the most passionate kiss a twelve year-old could.

Aaron pushed Devon back one more time, and this time Devon stretched himself out fully onto the deck that was still warm from the summer sun. He looked up at the moon and saw a small, silvery cloud rush across a night sky full of twinkling stars as he felt Aaron's mouth on him again and felt Aaron's finger fill his insides. Closing his eyes, the fingers of each hand found a space between the slats of the dock and they curled tightly around the wood as Devon McCourtney prepared for the most amazing orgasm of his young life.

The End