First Jerkoff Buddy On A Family Vacation 03: Waterfalls (Patreon)

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Chapter 3: Waterfalls

The next day, both of our families ended up booked on the same snorkel excursion. I found out at the breakfast buffet meetup, surprised to see Kurt there, standing in the pancakes line with a plate stacked stupidly high. We smiled at each other goofily across the room. A couple other families were on it too, and before I finished my oversize quarter of a watermelon, our moms had found each other and merged the two families into one group. Kurt stuck his hand out, pretending we had never met as his mom introduced us.

"Kurt," he said.

I said my name and shook my secret jerkoff buddy's hand like we were strangers. He pumped it twice, hard, then stuck his middle finger down between our hands, tickling my palm, making me flinch and giggle like a little boy. Everyone looked at me, and Kurt started laughing.

"Fast friends, I see," my mom said, then turned back to his mom and kept chatting.

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We chatted the whole walk down to the dock, the two of us trailing behind the parents. It was the first time we had ever hung out without the option of pulling our dicks out, and I was seeing a new side of him. He was still rowdy and fun, cracking jokes, shoulder-checking me off the path, doing an impression of some resort staff guy that had me laughing too loudly for how early it was. But it was weird having to choke down the urge to talk about porn, or jerking off, or to ask to see his dick again.

He asked if I watched football. And so I ended up breaking down the Browns' quarterback situation with the dude whose cum I had swallowed the night before.

"You guys need a whole new O-line too," he said.

"I know," I said, nodding along on autopilot while my mind thought of nothing but sex.

Every time I looked over at him I pictured that big, sweaty hog swinging loose in his board shorts, and I realized how gooned I had become. He was a trigger for me now. Apparently there was a dark side to being this sexually liberated. And it was bizarre having both our families strolling a few feet ahead of us, cramping my urges to participate in my new hobby.

Our group loaded onto a catamaran at the end of the dock, and that's when the shit hit the fan. 

Girls.

The padded benches running along both rails were lined with several hotties in bikinis before we even got there. I gulped, knowing that this was going to be a gooner fuel nightmare when I was already in this state. Kurt bumped me with his hip, a silent acknowledgement of what was happening. We sat down, our families chatting away as they sat on the far end away from Kurt and me. The engine rumbled up under us as we pulled out into open water. I had to admit that part of me was nervous that if girls were there, it would mean Kurt would be spending more time talking to them than hanging with me.

But that's when Kurt started a cruel game.

A few girls around our age had posted up at the rail across from us, three of them in triangle tops, already oiled up and squinting into the sun. Kurt stood, grabbed the hem of his tank top, and peeled it off over his head, subtly making a show. He stretched both arms up, pretending to work something out of his shoulder, and his round pecs bunched together and his stomach tightened into brick mounds. One of the girls elbowed her friend. He saw it. He wanted them to see it. 

He balled the tank top up, tossed it under the bench, and dropped down against my side, his bare shoulder hot from the sun where it pressed into mine. He leaned his head to me, looking past me.

"White top. I bet her titties bounce when she fucks," he whispered, his breath tingling my ear. "Watch what happens when we hit a wave."

The boat bounced and her titties indeed bounced. He quietly tapped my thigh, making sure I saw it. He leaned in again, whispering more, commentating. I watched his bulge flinch as he talked about what her tits were doing in that triangle top, how the fabric was losing the fight a little more with every shift of the boat. He said what he'd do to each of the three girls. He had already ranked them. His breath smelled like syrup from the pancake line, and spray misted us off the bow, and he kept talking, patiently and filthily, until I had a full boner pointing up my waistband and had to shift on the bench to park it somewhere that wouldn't get me canceled.

I glanced at our parents on the opposite side of the boat. His mom passed my mom the sunscreen, and they traded it back and forth doing their own shoulders, deep in conversation about excursion packages and the buffets. His dad had his hat pulled down, half asleep already. None of them so much as glanced at us.

Kurt spread a beach towel across both our laps, casually, like a blanket at a football game. I tried not to think anything of it. Under it, his palm came down on my knee. He left it there for a minute while he kept whispering about the girl in white, and my pulse thudded in my whole body at once. His hand slid up the inside of my thigh, fingers pressing into the muscle, dragging over the leg hair, hiking the hem of my trunks up as it climbed. The towel didn't even move. On the surface we were two dudes watching the water. Under it his fingertips traced along the edge of my trunks, high enough that my dick jumped against the mesh liner, and I stared straight ahead at the horizon, working hard to breathe like a normal person.

That was when my mom leaned out, one shoulder still shiny with sunscreen, and smiled at us.

"Look at you two, friends already," she said.

His hand squeezed my thigh under the towel, and I smiled back at her with my whole face while my dick strained against his wrist.

"He's cool," Kurt said, his hand parked high on my thigh.

The boat suddenly slowed down. We were at the next island. 

"Welcome to danger island," the boat tour man yelled at us.

The catamaran let us off on the small island. I looked up at the peak of a green, foliage-dense mountain in front of us. The girls peeled away as soon as we hit the sand, posting up far down the beach with a different group. 

"I guess they're not on our hike," Kurt said with a sigh.

We had an hour to kill before our trek started. Everyone laid out. The parents claimed a row of loungers, his dad asleep under his hat within a minute, the moms still deep in talk about food and vacations and crap like that. 

Kurt and I acted normal for as long as we could, wading around in the shallows, splashing each other, talking football again. I had just started to believe we were actually going to behave, when his hand clamped around my arm, fingers digging in. He checked over his shoulder once, saw nobody watching, and dragged me up the sand to an outdoor rinse shower tucked behind a dune. 

The second we were out of sight from everyone else, he grabbed my waistband and shoved it down to my thighs, baring my ass to the open air. I flinched and grabbed for my trunks, thinking I was getting pantsed, that this was some prank he'd laugh about all through the hike, until he hooked his thumbs into his own waistband and pushed it down too. 

His big dick sprang free and bobbed in front of him, already hard under his dense, curly bush. He didn't say anything. He just stood there facing me and watched my face, waiting to see what I'd do with it. I froze for a second, my hard dick pointing straight at him, salt drying on my shoulders, and I reached for him at the same time he reached for me. Half-dressed, trunks bunched around our thighs, we jerked each other fast and sloppily, knuckles bumping, both of us listening for footsteps on the other side of the dune.

He started talking, about tits, about pussy, about his own big dick, "You feel how heavy that is, bro? That's a man's cock."

And hearing him brag about it turned me on. He grinned the whole time, because almost getting caught was kind of the point with Kurt.

He looked down over my shoulder, pointed at my bare ass and said, "I want that." 

I felt a nervous pang through my body. I think I even flinched just from hearing it. 

Before I had a chance to say anything, Kurt's dad's voice carried over the dune, calling our names. We ripped apart mid-stroke, hauled our trunks up over two of the angriest boners of our lives, and walked out in opposite directions, blue-balled. 

I was scared, not from almost getting caught, but because I had heard him clearly, and I knew that worked up like that, I would have bent over for him.

We rejoined the group red-faced, tenting our trunks.

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The hike started and we headed up the trail, falling in with an additional random group that had come over on a different boat. No hot chicks among them. Kurt checked twice to be sure, then shrugged at me, accepting his losses.

We did meet two guys around our age, though. They were European, maybe German, based on their accents. One was tall and lanky with a gold chain, almost as jacked as Kurt. He had a strong voice, and his laugh carried all through the trees. The other dude was shorter, and stacked, his shoulders stretching his tight tee shirt.

They were obviously gay, at least from what I could tell. One of them was wearing a thin, girly bracelet on his wrist, and the other had a rainbow stripe running down the side of his shorts. That was my whole body of evidence, but I trusted it.

They were funny and loud, roasting each other in half English and half whatever they spoke back home, and within a few minutes they were roasting us too. The tall one asked if my hat came free with the resort. The stocky one said Kurt walked like he was carrying two invisible suitcases, and then he did the walk, arms bowed out away from his body, chest puffed, and even Kurt had to admit it was accurate. I was laughing hard enough that my stomach ached, and the laughing made the climb harder.

“Bro, I’ve never actually had a gay friend,” Kurt said under his breath, dropping back a step beside me.

“Me neither,” I said. “Never even really known one up close.” 

I kept sneaking looks at them, wondering what their lives were like, and wondering whether they could smell it on me, whatever Kurt and I had been doing all week.

The four of us ended up gravitating toward each other among the group. We were the most youthful, energetic males on the excursion, and the four of us kept bunching up at the front while the parents strung out panting behind us. The tall one's necklace chain bounced on his chest with every step, and sweat had plastered the stocky one's shirt across his shoulders. 

When the group stopped at a forest patch for box lunches, everyone waved the four of us ahead up the mountain, probably relieved to lose the noise.

The four of us hiked on alone, quiet for a while, until the trail ended at the base of a cliff. We found a huge waterfall pouring into a wide green pool, completely secluded. 

We were still catching our breath at the edge of the pool when the two European guys finally said something. The tall one wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt, his sparkling chain swinging loose off his chest, and looked from Kurt to me and back again.

"So what's the deal with you two?" he said.

"What do you mean," I said, too quickly.

The stocky one grinned at his friend and neither of them pushed it. I got the feeling they had pegged us immediately. The tall one looked right at me, already pulling his shirt off over his head, his abs rippling.

"You guys down to skinny dip?" he said, more of a statement than a question.

Kurt and I looked at each other for half a second, and then our trunks hit our ankles. 

The two other guys followed suit, and we all went pretty feral out there. The tall one spotted a ledge partway up the cliff and jumped first, his gold chain flying up past his chin, legs bicycling the whole drop while his junk flopped around between his legs. It was honestly funny to watch. 

After that it turned into somewhat of a competition, as often happens when boys are left alone. Kurt climbed higher than everybody and stood up there with his hands on his hips and his dick out.

"King of the rock!" he yelled, echoing down over the valley below us as he cannonballed so hard the splash reached us at the pool's edge. I climbed up after him, and when I jumped I screamed higher-pitched than I would have liked. 

And when I tried to swim under the waterfall to show off, the water hammered down on my head and shoulders and folded me straight under, heavier than anything I had ever swum against. I clawed sideways and surfaced coughing half the pool out of my lungs while the three of them cackled from the shallows.

"He dies on vacation," the stocky one yelled. "Tragic."

"Dude, I almost drowned," I said, catching my breath.

"I wanna try," Kurt said, and I gasped as he dove directly under the falls where I had just escaped from. 

I saw more dicks up close that afternoon than ever in my life, watched them float and swing and thicken halfway, transitioning from the warm air to the cool water. Nobody pretended not to look, either. The tall one caught Kurt staring at his and spread his arms wide, treading water with just his legs.

"Take a picture," he said with a grin, his thick European accent coming through stronger. "It lasts longer."

"I'm good," Kurt said, grinning back.

The conversations got rowdy fast, and the two of them started scoring our jumps out loud.

“Three out of ten,” the tall one said when Kurt surfaced. “Terrible form.”

“That was a nine,” Kurt yelled.

“The jump was a three. The dick was a nine,” the stocky one said.

“What did mine get?” I said after my next one.

“A two,” the tall one said. “But you have a meaty ass, so we can round up to an eight.”

I raised an eyebrow. "I'll take it."

We wrestled in the shallows and played chicken, mixing up the partners every round. I hoisted the stocky one onto my shoulders, his heavy thighs clamping my head, his junk settling warmly against the back of my neck while he grappled with Kurt above me. Every time Kurt shoved him his legs squeezed tighter around my ears, and I staggered under him, swallowing water and laughing. 

As we messed around more and more, I felt random dicks and balls pressing on the back of my neck, bare skin on bare skin, and decided that this was the best excursion money could buy.

Treading water, one of them asked if we ate ass, "with the girls you've hooked up with." 

Kurt and I looked at each other over the water, both of us blank.

"Do people actually do that?" I said. "In real life?"

"I thought that was just a porn thing," Kurt said.

"Those poor girls," one of them said, and we all cracked up, loud and immature, our guffaws carrying over the water.

We ended up sitting along the edge of the pool to catch our breath, the four of us in a row with our legs in the water, dicks and balls hanging out on the warm rock, nobody covering up. The tall one leaned back on his hands, his gold chain stuck flat to his wet chest, and looked down the line at us.

"Okay, we compare cocks," he said. "Stand up. I want to see who wins."

We chuckled, but he just looked at us. Realizing he wasn't joking, we stood in a small circle in the shallow water, facing each other as we touched ourselves lightly, stretching out our meat for the show.

"We should do it hard," I said.

Kurt just spit into his palm, and the two Europeans grinned and started stroking themselves too. So we stood up in a loose circle on the rock, four dicks out in the sun, and wanked it, four fists pumping as a group while the waterfall roared behind us.

I already knew from the last couple days that being watched worked faster than porn ever had, and within a minute all four of us were pointing at each other, fully hard. I was throbbing in my own fist.

The tall one looked straight at Kurt, still working himself slowly, shamelessly, his gold chain glinting against his wet chest.

"Come on," he said, dragging the words out between strokes, "show me that meat you use for those American sluts."

"You guys are uncircumcised!" Kurt blurted out suddenly, staring at their dicks.

"You just noticed this?" one of them said.

"Bro, I've never seen one up close. I was wondering what was different about them all day."

"You can investigate if you would like," the tall one said, and Kurt grabbed it quickly, making him flinch and giggle.

He slid the skin up over the head and back down, like he was fascinated. I reached over and gripped the stocky one's without asking. Within a minute the circle had changed, four hands on dicks that weren't our own, all of us swelling hard in each other's fists, trading grips, feeling the differences, the extra skin, the heft, the curves.

"Okay, the thick one wins," the stocky one eventually said, nodding at Kurt. "That is like, how do you say... a can of beer."

"But mine is longest," the tall one said, stepping closer and holding his alongside Kurt's to prove it. He was right. It ran past Kurt's by a knuckle, slimmer but longer, and the two of them stood there comparing like it was a handshake.

"What about me and him?" I said, pointing from my dick to the stocky one's.

The stocky one just shrugged, water dripping off his heavy shoulders, his own boner bobbing in front of him, and the energy changed as we sat back down.

Kurt asked them, plainly, "So what's it like being gay?"

They looked at each other and laughed. "We're not gay," the stocky one said. "We're just European."

"Oh. Um, neither are we," I said.

"Sure you're not," the tall one said, rolling his eyes.

A moment later, the stocky one stood up and shook the water off himself like a dog, his heavy shoulders flinging drops everywhere.

"We have to go down," he said, grabbing his shirt off the rock. "Our families booked a dinner on the other island. If we are late again my mother will drown me in front of everyone."

"Seriously?" Kurt said. "We were just starting to like you guys."

"Of course you were," the tall one said. He stepped into his shorts and had to tuck his half-hard dick sideways to get them up, completely unbothered about it. "Everybody likes us. We are a delight."

They traded Instagrams with us, still dripping, and the stocky one pointed at Kurt. 

"Beer can," he said, as a goodbye. 

His friend's cackle carried back up the trail long after they disappeared behind the trees, and it was just Kurt and me and the waterfall. The parents were still nowhere to be seen. Kurt floated on his back, his dick moving with the current at the surface.

"I like being naked out here," he said. "Out in the open."

"Things were just getting heated," I said from the rock I was sitting on. "We were about to goon blast all over."

"Meh," he shrugged, "I like it better with just you here."

That made me smile. 

"Hey," he said, flipping over to look at me. "If eating ass is real. You think we should practice?"