 Water Taxi
Lawrence Schimel
The rough orange fabric of the life jacket was rubbing my nipples raw. At
times like this I'm glad I didn't let Jaume talk me into getting my nipple pierced when he
had his done. I like the way it looks, the small silver loop, especially since he only had
one side pierced; I don't know,when men have both sides done it makes me think of door
knockers, and the whole aesthetic changes and loses something. But I thought he must be
suffering more from the life preserver than I was right now, since the pierced tit is
supposed to be more sensitive than before.
Jaume, though, didn't seem about
to complain. He sat at the prow of the double kayak, his powerful arms dipping to one side
and then the other as he paddled. His shoulders were hidden under the life preserver, but
I could watch the musculature of his back flex as he twisted left and right with each
stroke, and I wondered once again what I'd done to be so lucky to have such a beautiful
man as my boyfriend. I felt lucky about everything right then--Jaume, the crystal-clear
blue sky, the afternoon sun, the warm surf, the party on the beach, life in general. I
forgot about my sore nipples and matched Jaume's strokes, and we just glided across the
waves for a while.
Neither of us had used a kayak before,
and thus when the DJ announced free kayaks as part of this year's Gay Pride Festival on
the beach, Jaume and I jumped up from our beach towels and trotted over to the launch
area. This was the first year that Barcelona held a Gay Pride Festival at the beach, with
an afternoon full of activities like volleyball games, while speakers blared dance music.
Later in the evening, we'd all move into the Pabellon del Mar behind us for a long night
of performances by bands like Baccara and Folkloricas Arrepentidas, and drag shows by
Arroba and other queens I'd never heard of. And, of course, normal club dance music in
between all that. It was expected that many men would come just for the dance. Half the
money from the entrance fee would go to the fight against AIDS, so there was a serious
side to the festivities as well.
I wondered if it would work. The gay
political groups of Barcelona were always fighting with each other, and this year they'd
split off, with one group having a Gay Pride march on June 28th, commemorating the
Stonewall Revolution back in the U.S. that started the modern homosexual rights movement.
The other half, including most of the owners of the gay businesses, decided to hold a more
festive event on Sunday, July 4th, to try to get a better turnout. It was Independence Day
in the States, they joked, and they were breaking free of the U.S. domination of gay
culture in other parts of the world. After all, they said, why should we celebrate an
American Gay Pride holiday instead of creating one of our own?
I sometimes feel guilty that I'm not
more politically active, but the truth of the matter is, I'm easily bored by such things.
I know it's important to vote, and I do, but I just can't stand the endless squabbling at
meetings over which subgroup feels they're not getting enough representation and so on. I
mean, I'm glad there are dedicated activists out there who understand the legal jargon
better than I and know how to play the system --who' ae fighting for my right to kiss my
boyfriend on the beach like I did a few minutes ago. Like many of the guys on the beach
today, I'm sure, Jaume and I were just here to have fun. We went to the march on Monday to
show our support and help boost the numbers--now that the groups were split up we figured
it would be especially important to put in an appearance--and we also came to the
fun-in-the-sun party.
My mind was wandering as my body worked
through the simple repetitive task of kayaking, but I was awakened from these musings by a
call from a pleasure boat that had anchored in front of the beach, neither especially near
to nor all that far out from the shore, as if undecided whether they wanted to simply
watch the festivities or be included. Apart from the all-male crew on the deck, it was
obvious from even a cursory glance at their postures as they stood about drinking
afternoon cocktails and watching the shore that they were not here by mistake but had come
for the Gay Pride party.
One of the men, blond and shirtless,
was leaning over the side and hailing us. I was sure it was us because when he saw us
glance up he waved in our direction, but I looked over my shoulder anyway. I had that
feeling like when you're in a crowded bar and a guy you think is cute smiles at you, and
you can't believe he's really smiling at you, certain that one of his friends or some hot
number must be standing just behind your shoulder and is in fact the intended recipient of
the smile.
"What do you think?" Jaume
asked, not breaking his stroke. We were angling parallel to the beach, and if their boat
had been in motion our paths would've crossed in a hundred meters or so.
"Why not see what he wants?"
I answered, using my paddle to change our course. "Maybe they want to offer us a
drink?" I laughed and our little shared kayak spun around toward the boat, and in a
moment I again matched Jaume's even strokes.
As we drew up to the boat, the
shirtless blond moved to stand at the deck's ladder. It turns out he was dressed in a
skimpy bright orange Speedo. "Can you take me to shore?" he asked, in Castillian
rather than in Catalan as Jaume and I had been speaking. "The water's full of
jellyfish."
I looked him over, and from my angle I
got a good look at certain parts. Which, I had to admit, looked quite nice from here.
Jaume and I have been together nearly
two years, during which time we've tried a number of different relationship options, from
complete monogamy to a period when we were hardly having sex with each other we were
slutting around so much. This led to a trial separation and eventual reunion under our
current agreement: whenever we want something outside our relationship, we do it together.
Which doesn't mean that we always wind up in threesomes, although that is usually the
case. Sometimes we might go to a sauna together, and maybe each of us pick up someone; the
cabinas aren't really big enough for all four of us to go into one and have our two
separate pairings, but the one time we tried it was pretty exciting watching Jaume get
fucked by someone else while he watched me fuck the trick I'd picked up. I still felt some
jealousy, but at the same time I felt Jaume was including me in his pleasure and vice
versa.
Most of the time, we were happiest with
the more traditional threesome, and our taste was similar enough that we didn't have too
many disagreements--at least among ourselves. It was not always the easiest thing
convincing our prospective third, but actually many guys have a fantasy about doing
threesomes. They're not always so easy to come by in the typical bar or dance club
scenario (as opposed to, say, a sauna, where they're easier to arrange), so many men were
willing to give it a shot when we asked them. I always think they took one look at Jaume
and decided they'd put up with sharing him for a chance at sex with him, half a cake being
better than no cake. I'm just glad I'm a deciding voice in who I share him with.
Since both Jaume and I have active
libidos, we're usually up for anything attractive the other proposes. So I boldly asked
our blond boatman, "And what's our fee for the taxi service?" in Castillian
while rubbing my crotch with one hand in an unmistakable gesture. Jaume, looking over his
shoulder at me, glanced down into my lap and smiled, his silent agreement to what I'd
proposed, then looked up at the guy on the deck as we waited for an answer. He looked down
at the bulge growing in my skimpy blue swimtrunks, glanced out at the shore for a moment,
then back at Jaume and me.
"OK," he nodded, "come
on up," and he stepped away from the side of the boat.
I, too, looked back at the shore, my
mind crowding with thoughts: I wondered what people could see from the beach. I wondered
if anyone would see us board the boat and especially if the kayak crew would get mad at us
for abandoning ship. I wondered if our stuff, still on the beach, was safe. I wondered
about the wisdom of climbing onto a boat full of strange men; what if they were the
proverbial axe-murderers, who dumped the body bits overboard where the fishes ate up the
evidence? I wondered what our prospective passenger looked like without his bathing suit,
and I nudged Jaume in the back with my paddle. "Let's go," I said.
We tied the kayak to the bottom rung of
the ladder and then climbed up it, taking the paddles with us. The last thing we needed
was for a wave to knock them into the water while we were up on the boat, leaving us all
stranded. Besides, I figured if we had them with us, it would be more trouble for one of
the guys on the boat to steal the kayak. I was still feeling a little suspicious. But I've
always been cautious: Even with tricks on land, I was wary if I brought them home, making
sure there were no easily-pocketed valuables lying about and guarding my wallet someplace
unexpected. I'd never had any problems, but it didn't hurt to be on the safe side, I
thought, even when walking on the wild side.
I followed Jaume onto the deck. We were
surrounded by a group of maybe seven men--some in swimsuits, like we were, others in more
ordinary summer clothes. They were all eyeing us, as if they were feeling suspicious, too.
And who could blame them? Or was there something more than curiosity in their gaze? How
much of our interchange had they overheard?. And what did they think of it, those who'd
heard and understood?
The guy who wanted a ride stood with
the rest of them, but he didn't really blend into the crowd. Maybe it was because he was
the only one I recognized--he had an identity separate from that of the group because I'd
first seen him alone, leaning over the side of the boat as he called out to us. Also, he
stood a step apart from them physically, as if to underscore the fact that he was leaving,
and they would stay. As I took in the other men--who were as varied a lot of homosexual
types as one could imagine, from an overdressed, highly coifed queen to a quiet butch
number who looked like an ultra-straight soccer player--I wondered if he'd always been
part of this mixed crew or if he'd swum out here. I glanced at his crotch, but his
swimsuit was dry. All that meant was that he'd been onboard long enough to dry out. As I
watched, I thought his basket gave a small jump, as if in anticipation of what we planned,
and I smiled, as much at the thought of our imminent sex as the idea of how I imagined
this was making him feel. I glanced at the other men as I idly rubbed my crotch, but got
no sexual connection from any of them. Suddenly, I wondered less why he wanted to go
ashore.
Our blond made no move to introduce us
or himself, and I wondered if we were planning to do whatever it was we would do there in
front of everyone. It would hardly be the first time we had an audience, so it didn't
really faze me, and I was sure it wouldn't be much of a problem for Jaume either. I
reached over and helped him unbuckle the life jacket, letting it fall to the deck. It made
a small clatter as the buckles hit the wood, and the noise seemed startling in the absence
of any social chatter. Jaume hadn't moved and was still straddling the strap that had gone
between his legs, which now made two separate circles connecting to the life jacket. As I
looked at Jaume's muscular thighs I imagined him as the famed Colossos of Rhodes
straddling the strait. What a sight it must have been to sail between those massive thighs
and gaze upwards!
I reached down and fondled Jaume's cock
through the fabric of his green swimsuit, staring defiantly at the men around us. Like me,
Jaume was half-hard already and I could feel his dick respond to my fingers. The men said
nothing--content, it seemed, to be voyeurs and nothing more. Even the blond in the orange
bathing suit was silent, although he watched my hand as it moved, looking up every now and
then to meet my stare and then letting his gaze drop once more. Finally, he moved closer
to us and dropped to his knees before Jaume. I pulled the green nylon down over Jaume's
hips and his cock sprang free of the confining fabric. The blond reached out to hold it,
and I looked up at the crowd around us, expecting them to respond in some way, but they
were all as still as statues. It would've been much more normal for them to try and be
involved, or to comment in some way, to somehow indicate that they were, if not exactly
participating, at least present and aware. Even pointedly ignoring us, carrying on their
conversation as if we were not fornicating in their midst, would be a more direct
acknowledgment.
I put them out of mind and looked down
at Jaume's ass clenching and unclenching as he thrust his cock into the blond's mouth. My
cock grew longer at the sight of my lover's cock being worshipped by this stranger's
mouth, and it poked out from the side of my swimsuit. I still had my life jacket on, so I
couldn't actually pull the trunks down the way I'd done with Jaume, since the strap that
ran between my legs prevented this. But I pulled my cock and balls free through one of the
leg holes and started pulling at my dick; I didn't want to bother with the hassle of
untangling the jacket, and the tight fabric of the swimsuit's leg hole against the base of
my cock was a pleasurable pressure.
The blond still wore his orange
swimtrunks as he sucked off my boyfriend. As if my glancing at his cock awakened some
sixth sense in him, he seemed to realize that my cock was also loose and seeking
attention, and without either looking up or breaking his rhythmic motions along Jaume's
cock, he reached out and grabbed hold of mine with unerring precision, as if he'd all this
time been completely aware of where it was in relation to him. This was a skill I often
admired in men who had it, like the ability to locate another man's nipples through his
shirt without groping around.
I looked up again at the men around us
as the blond jerked on my dick, but it was as if time had stopped as far as they were
concerned, for all the life they showed. I glanced at their crotches to see if at least we
were providing them with a good spectacle, but it was hard to tell if they were aroused or
not. As if he could tell that my attention had wandered away, the blond's tugging at my
dick changed, and suddenly he pulled me forward by my cock until I had to shift my stance;
I stumbled forward and suddenly I was sliding into the wet of his mouth. I watched his
lips work their way up and down my shaft, and looking past his face I could see the
outline of his own dick, obviously hard, within his orange swimsuit. But he made no move
to take it out or even touch himself through the fabric. I was glad, judging from his
arousal, that he was obviously enjoying some aspect of this scene. And then I closed my
eyes and stopped worrying and let myself enjoy the slippery magic of his tongue on my
cock. With my eyes still closed I reached out and found Jaume's pierced tit, as if I'd
suddenly acquired that skill that had always amazed me, although I think it was simply
because the piercing made for a much larger area for my fingers to find. I tugged at the
silver loop gently and smiled and opened my eyes and found my lover smiling back. I
grabbed him by the neck and pulled him toward me for a kiss.
Below us, the blond had grabbed both of
our dicks and was jerking us off as he caught his breath. Or perhaps he was simply
considering, weighing our cocks in his fists as he contemplated his next move. He tugged
our cocks until we were standing close to one another, then put both of us in his mouth at
once. It's a strange feeling, because it's not as wonderful as having a pair of lips
clamped tightly around the shaft of your cock, but sharing something so intimate with my
lover made the experience even more intense. Jaume's and my own tongues locked as the
blond ran his back and forth over the sensitive crowns, pulled free from their foreskin by
the state of our arousal. I could feel my breath quicken in those moments leading up to
orgasm, and I grabbed my own dick with one hand and began to jerk myself off. Jaume
followed suit, and I looked down at the blond to see how he was responding, thinking that
he might be touching himself, but he seemed to be just watching us jerk off and enjoying
the sight from his crotch-level view. But then he leaned forward and began to suck on my
balls, and after a few more moments I was sending short white arcs of cum onto the wooden
deck. I made a sort of grunt into Jaume's throat with each spasm that went through my
cock, and even with my eyes closed in ecstasy I could tell that Jaume had quickened the
pace of his hand's motion. Soon his tongue was pressing deeply into my mouth as he, too,
came.
The blond was still kneeling before us,
smiling widely. And suddenly, now that the sex was over, the other passengers suddenly
came to life. I didn't quite understand the noise at first, lost in the afterglow of
orgasm, but I soon made out words and realized they were talking to each other again,
going about things as usual, although still keeping an eye turned toward us every now and
then. Maybe it was because Jaume's and my cock were still bare for all to see, mine
already shrinking now that I'd cum but Jaume's still a rigid pole; he always took a while
for it to go down. "Well, that was certainly worth a first-class trip to the
shore," I announced. The blond smiled again and climbed to his feet. I wondered for a
moment if he were planning to kiss us, and half-hoped he would, since it would make the
encounter feel suddenly more...personable. But the moment passed and he turned toward the
others.
Jaume bent forward and pulled his
swimsuit up. He stepped into the loops of the life jacket and I helped him into it, as the
blond said goodbye to his friends. I watched him kiss them farewell, some on either cheek
and some directly on the lips, and wondered what each man must feel, knowing where his
mouth had been just moments before. Were they disgusted? Jealous? Indifferent, as they'd
been while watching us? I wasn't sure. And it didn't really matter.
Jaume and I descended first to resume
our places with the paddles. I wondered for a moment what would happen if we simply took
off before the blond descended. It was not as if there were anything truly binding us to
wait for him, other than our word. What could he do, complain to the police that he had
given us each blow jobs and we wouldn't take him to shore in return? It wasn't as if he'd
dive in after us, since he was afraid of the jellyfish. And with reason, I noticed,
watching a ghostly white shadow bloom in the water next to our kayak.
We waited for him, an honorable
exchange as we'd agreed, and once he'd settled himself on the little ridge between the
seats we began paddling and pulled away from the boat. His friends called out after him,
and there were other shouts and noises and sounds of frivolity from the men we couldn't
see from our lower vantage. Suddenly the boat seemed like a lively and fun place, quite
the opposite of how it had been when we were aboard. Had we been the inhibiting force?
Maybe it was our passenger. It didn't really matter. My lover and I had enjoyed our
private encounter there amidst the crowd, and I at least had no regrets.
Our strokes had pulled us nearly to the
shore. "Thanks," our passenger said as he leaped off the kayak into the shallow
water and waded the last few feet onto the sandy beach. He turned around and waved at us,
and back at the pleasure boat, and then walked up the sand. I wondered briefly what plans
he had here, if maybe we'd see him again later at the dance. Or any of those men from the
boat....
One of the kayak crewmen came jogging
over and yelled at us for coming this close to the beach. He told us we had to head out to
deeper waters or bring the kayak back to the launch. We pushed off, Jaume and I, paddling
back out among the higher waves and the ghostly jellyfish. The sky was crystal blue, the
sea was warm, my boyfriend was with me, and we'd just had a threesome with a sexy blond.
On the beach behind us was a party celebrating being gay: it was one of those perfect
moments.
We weren't paddling in any direction,
just sort of enjoying being out on the surf. After a while, Jaume looked over his shoulder
at me and asked in Catalan, "Think we should go back to the boat and see if anyone
else needs a lift?"
I smiled at Jaume, and without a word I
stuck my paddle into the water like a rudder again, turning our course back toward that
boat at my lover's request.
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Fiction