Chapter 2

Author's Note -

Gay sex warning. I realize now that I should never have rated this fic T or whatever, my whole point kind of rests on graphic descriptions of sex. So sorry about that. The rating has changed to MA.

The next day was spent in "training". Sno pointed out that – on a sail boat in the ocean – we were on our own out here. There was no ambulance, there were no firemen, there were no police. If anything serious were to happen, it would be up to us to handle it - at least until someone's Coast Guard could get to us. Most African nations don't really have much in the way of Coast Guard, either.

So he showed us where the fire-extinguishers were, the batteries, how to start and stop the generator, how to change the water-maker filters, stuff like that. I noticed he didn't show me how to use any of the radios, though. So there was still some tension between us, I guess. He also set down some more rules – especially concerning Ellen. She wasn't to go topside without someone looking after her. He said that she was small enough to slip right under the guard-rails, and if she fell overboard when no one knew it – she'd be gone forever. It was kind of a sobering thought.

I was wearing my old clothes again. Having been washed, they were at least clean, but in pretty bad shape. My button-down long-sleeved shirt made me feel kind of ridiculous, and my pants were ripped up pretty bad, especially in the butt. At least I had underwear though, so Sno wouldn't be able to see anything.

It was so hot - especially out on deck in the sun - and I wanted to take off the damn shirt, or at least unbutton it, but... y'know... I didn't really feel like that would be such a good idea, under the circumstances.

Once he finished with the safety tour, Sno got out some fishing-tackle and set my sisters to fishing off the stern. I was steering the boat at the time because he'd just shown me how to 'come about', that is, turn the boat to a new tack. Once he was through with my sisters, he came back to me, set the auto-pilot again, and told me to follow him below.

Told, not 'asked'.

I sort of frantically hoped he was just going to show me more safety gear or something. That fantasy died when we went into his cabin and he closed the door. And then locked it.

It wasn't so much that I was afraid he was going to fuck me, anymore. He'd said that wouldn't be for awhile yet. It was more about wondering what he was going to do. There were lots of other things that might not hurt as much, but would still be... well, disgusting. And my sisters were right above our heads – we could hear them through the partly-open stern windows. Lisa was apparently trying to untangle a knot in Ellen's fishing line, and harping on her endlessly for getting it screwed up.

Sno sat on the end of the bed again, just like before, and motioned me to come to him. I was kind of expecting to have to put on another strip-show, but that wasn't going to happen this time. Which, to me, only meant that something else would. He started unbuttoning my shirt while I stood there awkwardly. Then he opened it and starts feeling me up with both hands.

Feeling me up. I'd heard guys talk about 'feeling up' girls before. It meant that they got to touch their tits. They always made it sound like that was such a big deal, which I never really understood. I mean, yeah, tits are nice and all... but geez – they're just tits, y'know? The guys would always act like it was... Well, I dunno, but like a really, really big deal. And now Sno's feeling me up. And not just my chest, either.

He's all over the place. My stomach, my back – especially the small of my back – my shoulders, even my arms as he slides the shirt off. Even my butt, although I'm still wearing my pants. Then back to my chest and around my sides to my back again... I mean, all over the place. His hands are cool, too. Not cold or anything, but just... I try not to think about it, and concentrate on watching the fishing line I can see through the window, trailing off from the deck above me. It felt strange, and it made me feel strange, too. I wasn't used to being touched like that.

We Dutch aren't a touchy-feely people, like, say, Italians are. Especially us boys. It was a new experience in a lot of ways.

And it wasn't just touching. It was... touching like that. I mean, it's one thing to touch someone, or be touched,or felt, but it's totally different when you know that someone is enjoying it. That they're touching you just for the sake of touching you. That they're doing it because they want to, that they're getting something from it. Getting a lot from it. I can tell by his breathing.

As I feel his hands slide around my sides, from stomach to back yet again, I realize something. He's not just touching me... He's... He's... I don't know the right word... he's really touching me...

I take a glance at his face, sort of trying to figure out what's going on, and he seems at first to be staring at my chest, which is about level with his head. But as I look, I can tell that his eyes aren't really seeing anything. They're just open, is all. His brain is off somewhere else. Just from feeling me up. I don't understand it.

I stare at his face. His eyeballs are kind of pale yellowish, not like us whites are. And his skin is just so black... So different. His nose is kind of wide, but not like freakish or anything. Noticeable, though. And of course he has those thick, fat lips that blacks so often have. They're a little parted, and I can see where the blackness kind of fades to pink towards the inside of his mouth...

Man, what the fuck am I doing? I jerk my head up to stare at the fishing line again, worried by how I was starting to feel. Well, it's just new, is all. New and different. I just need to keep my wits about me, remember who I am, why I'm here, what's happening. This is all against my will. I gotta keep that in mind. This is illegal. This is wrong. He should go to jail for doing this to me.

His arms go around my back again, all the way this time, and he pulls me tightly up against him, turning his head to lay his cheek against my chest. That caught me by surprise, and I put my hands up to push him away in case he... does something. I didn't know what to expect. But he doesn't 'do' whatever it was I was afraid of – not that I was thinking anything specific - he just stays there, breathing deeply from his nose.

He's smelling me.

Not sniffing around on me like a dog, though. Not at all. He's inhaling me, I realize. Taking long, deep breaths in his nose, and exhaling out his mouth quickly, to make room for another breath. It kind of feels a little... violating. Personal. It hadn't ever occurred to me that things were going to be like this... I mean, I was prepared to be fucked up my ass, for god's sake, and this feels like 'violation'?

It's not just that though... It's... Well, I hadn't showered since the night before, and it was pretty hot up on deck earlier... so...

I hope I smell okay...

I can smell him too. I didn't want to, but it was kind of hard to help. My mom – who lived in a company compound in Tripoli for awhile - always used to say how bad the blacks smelled.

I bend my head down a little, closer to his salt-and-pepper hair. Doesn't smell so bad to me...

Suddenly, Sno pushes me back a little, and looks up at my face.

"What?" he asks, looking a little surprised.

Oh my god – I think I said that out loud.

"Uh... nothing..." My mind is spinning, and I'm very confused. What the hell is happening to me?

"You said I don't smell so bad..." He's smirking at me now. Since I can't seem to think right, I just tell the truth -

"My mom... she always said that... uh..."

"That colored people smell bad?"

"Well... yeah. She didn't.. I mean... she's not..."

"Fear not, Ryan – I'm not offended. These coloreds who smelled so bad to her – they probably worked for your family, is that right?"

"I guess. It was before I was born. I think they were gardeners and house-keepers and stuff..."

"Where?"

"Tripoli."

"It probably never occurred to your mother that no one smells too good after working in the hot sun all day, colored or not. And I daresay they weren't allowed to bath at your house, either, were they..."

"I... I don't know..." He has a point, I have to admit.

"You didn't smell too good when we first met either, Ryan."

"I know. Look, I'm sorry, all right? I didn't mean anything by it... She didn't, I mean."

He let go of me and sat back on the bed, opening up more space between us. Apparently what had been happening was over now. I was a little relieved.

"Ryan – have you ever known a colored person before?"

"Not really. And no one says 'colored' anymore, Sno."

"Oh? What do they say now, then?"

"Black."

"Ah ha. Well, I don't know if that's an improvement or not..."

"It doesn't mean anything bad..." I said awkwardly. I never imagined I'd be talking to a black about calling him 'black'.

He smiles and chuckles, "It's okay Ryan – don't fret about it. I know that I seem a little strange to you. It took me a long time to get used to being around you people when I first went to England, too. Know what we call you?"

"What..."

" 'People without breath'. "

"What's that mean?"

"I suppose you look – to us – a little like you're dead. I'm guessing, Ryan. You surely don't look that way to me..."

I'd been looking at him while we were talking, but now I couldn't think of anything else to say, and I got kind of embarrassed looking him in he eye like that. Or maybe it was how he was looking me in the eye... Anyway, I started to avert my eyes from his, looking all around. I probably looked totally stupid.

Eventually, he says, "I guess the mood's broken now – you can go. But tell me – why do you keep wearing that ridiculous long-sleeved shirt? Isn't it rather hot?"

"Kind of..."

"Ah – but you don't want to take it off in front of the dirty old man, is that it?"

Talk about awkward...

"Heh. Well, it's up to you, then, Ryan. You're right though – I would indeed stare. You're... well, I know you don't want to hear it, but you really are absolutely beautiful. If somewhat skin-and-bones."

"We've been starving for a long time..." Why did I tell him that? Do I really need an excuse for being 'skin-and-bones'?

"I see – so I can look forward to you filling out as time goes by, then?"

My face starts burning again, and he laughs at me.

"Ryan... Get over it. I fully intend to have you whether you take your shirt off or not, skinny or fat. I'm sorry to put it so bluntly, but your embarrassment is just ridiculous, if incredibly charming. Now go join your sisters – I need to work on some navigation for awhile. We'll pick it up again tonight, eh?"

He's teasing me. The bastard is teasing me. I rolled my eyes and huffed, "... can't wait..." as I turned around and headed for the door. Christ.

Fuck it.

I took off my shirt.

Lisa and Ellen were still fishing, although neither had caught anything. I went and sat down beside them, sort of trying to clear my mind.

"We could hear you guys down there..." she tells me, making a point of not looking at me.

"Yeah, well..." is all I can say while I try to remember what she may have heard.

"Ryan, I-"

"Look, Lisa? Just shut up about it, okay?" I snap at her. I'm sorry I said it that way – I could tell she was hurt – but I was having a hard enough time dealing with everything myself, how the hell was I supposed to explain anything to her? I don't KNOW what's going on! I don't KNOW how I feel about it! I mean, I know how I feel about... y'know... but there are other things that...

Aww, fuck it anyway. I don't like thinking about it, and I'm not entirely sure why. This should be so cut-and-dried, so simple. He intends to rape me, so therefore I should hate his guts. That's how things were supposed to be. That was simple. I could deal with that.

Trouble was – I didn't hate him. I realized that while I sat there watching Ellen cast her fishing lure, over and over. I knew I should... and I didn't know why I didn't. Well, Sno hadn't put any 'real' moves on me yet... Once he did, surely I'd hate him for it. Surely. It was a consoling thought. Once he actually did something to me, everything would suddenly become clear and simple, the way it should be.

I bet the Thai lady-boys don't go through this. It's just a business to them, something they do in order to eat and live. I should try to handle it like that – just something I have to do, nothing more.

Thing is, I'm not a lady-boy. Okay, I know I'm kind of cute like a girl, but I'm NOT A GIRL, dammit! It's not my fault! I wish I weren't! I want to be all tough-looking and manly and... I don't know... dignified and stuff!

Like Sno is.

Oh god...

Sno made dinner that night – curried pork. Now, I've had curry before, and it's usually spicy, but my god, not like that! And it wasn't so much hot-spicy, either, but just... well, curry-spicy. And he put out all these toppings I'd never even thought of, too. Coconut. On curry? And crushed pineapple and sliced bananas and mango chutney (Major Grey's – he made a point of mentioning that for some reason) and – as if to drive home how different his version of curry was to be – peanuts.

I mean... peanuts? Coconut and peanuts? On curry? Does that sound right to anyone?

We're all kind of staring in disbelief as he sets all these things on the little galley table. There's barely room for us and our plates, let alone all these freaky condiments. None of us touch anything. The curry smells... weird.

He finally sits down too, after dragging a chair to the free end of the table. He looks at all of us and smirks, "Perhaps it's an acquired taste... Well, more for me, then." Then he starts digging-in to various things. We all watch to see how it's done.

Rice, followed by the actual curry. Then come the toppings, starting with the coconut. Apparently, it's something like making a salad. He takes a spoonful of crushed pineapple but then puts it back, deciding against it, I guess, but then he doles out a lot of the Major Grey's. And a lot of peanuts, too. After he's done, he looks around at us again, and chuckles to himself. Then he starts to eat it.

Ellen copies him exactly. She's such a kid, I guess she doesn't know any better. Me and Lisa are more careful – we take the rice and curry, taste that, sprinkle on some coconut – okay, that's pretty good – then the chutney (which is really, really good... even though I don't exactly know what a 'mango' is), some bananas... More coconut. Some pineapple. A few peanuts, just to experiment...

Holy cow.

I like curry, it turns out. Who knew? They never have any toppings for the curry you get in restaurants. It's a whole new world. I think Ellen likes it even more than I do; I've never seen her eat like that. Seven years old and she ate more than I did.

The rice ran out before the curry did, which sort of signaled that the meal was over.

"You girls will clean up?" Sno asks them. They nod, still chewing on pork and crunching peanuts.

"Very well then. Ryan – we have some unfinished business. After you."

Lisa glances into my eyes as I sigh and get up from the table. I just roll my eyes at her. As I make my way down the hall to his cabin door, it occurs to me that I'm not even really afraid anymore. Must be my new business attitude. Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go...

It turns out that things are to be different again, but by now, I'm almost expecting that too. He wants me to be totally naked, this time, which is a little embarrassing, but not so much as I'd have thought it would be. And another first; he's taking off his clothes – down to his tightie-whities. It's funny – like I said, the things you think about – but I'm kind of surprised by the tightie-whities. Old people usually wear boxers, don't they? Men, I mean. Well, even old women usually don't wear sexy underwear. Uh, not that his underwear is 'sexy' or anything, I mean...

Uh, anyway – I can't help but stare at him a little bit. It's just because he's black, though. I mean, it just looks so strange, y'know? Damn, he is taut though. He even has a six-pack. Old men aren't supposed to have six-packs... And except for a small patch of more salt-and-pepper hair on his chest, he's awfully smooth, too.

"How old are you?" I ask, and immediately feel self-conscious about it. But... it's just that, his face and body don't really seem to... match. Not like I'd thought they would, anyway.

"Fifty-two," he answers, sitting on the end of the bed again, and spreading his knees. That's my place, I suppose: between his knees. "You?"

"Going on sixteen..."

" 'Going on'. You're fifteen then."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"But when you're through being fifteen, you'll be sixteen. Yes, Ryan, I know how it works," he says. Now I'm embarrassed. I guess it was a stupid thing to say... He goes on, "Lord, it's hard to believe that I was once in such a hurry to grow up, too. Ryan? Look at me..." I was trying not to. "You're going to be old for a lot longer than you are young. Don't rush it so much. It's not as wonderful as you think."

The way he was talking to me was making me uncomfortable. "So, what do you want me to do?" I said, as if I wanted to get the show on the road, to show him that he didn't impress me.

"Hmm. Very well, come here then. You know the drill."

Yeah, I do, and he pulls me up tight right away between his legs so he can smell me and feel me up again. He really is 'picking up where he left off'. I'm just glad he didn't take his underwear off... that might have meant something. As it is, I figure this is probably as far as he'll go: he's just going to feel me up more, and keep inhaling me in that strange, intimate way he does.

Although, there are some differences this time. He keeps sliding his arms around me, and going down to my butt. And... he's feeling-up my nipples sometimes, too. I really, really wish he wouldn't do that... I mean, I don't mind his hands on my butt. As long as he doesn't... well, you know, but my nipples are a different story. My dick is already pushed against his belly. And my nipples are... well... sensitive, which is something I'm kind of ashamed of. Like a girl's nipples, I guess. I mean, girl's are supposed to have sensitive nipples, right? But boy's nipples aren't, are they? If they are, then you sure don't hear them talk about it.

Anyway, the thing is, I don't want to get a hard-on, for obvious reasons. If he plays with my nipples much more, I'm gonna-

Then he starts brushing his lips across them.

I didn't think he'd do that – I mean, my nipples aren't, like, attractive, are they? Since I'm a boy? If they were, wouldn't boys cover them up, like girls do? His lips are soft and warm and I'm getting sparks flying up and down my spine. Dammit, I'm definitely going to get a hard-on now. In fact – I already do. Goddammit. And he can feel that too. GodDAMMIT!

Think!

This one time I remember, I was so cold... I'd decided to take this path home from school, and it was winter and it started to sleet, and I remember I was so cold that I wasn't even shivering anymore, and... and... uh... oh shit... I... uh... I saw a guy cut the head off a chicken once – blood spurted from its neck, and he let it go and it flapped around for awhile on... on... on the ground... and... oh my god... stop it... My Dad took me to a sardine-canning factory once, and... uh... it stunk so bad that... hunh... Ah!... He's suckling my nipples! ... It stunk like fish so bad... his hands on my butt... my dick against him... I don't like fish... those big lips, with the pink on the inside are... ohshit-ohshit-ohshit... This bird once pooped right on... oh god... oh god... I don't... I don't like this! You're - you're not making me feel good! ... oh god... the chicken... the chicken was -

The it stops, and little by little, I become aware of some things.

When I open my eyes – I didn't know they were closed – I'm looking at the ceiling. My back is arched, and I'm staring straight up. And I'm holding onto something – his shoulders. I'm holding on hard, too, my fingers digging into his flesh. I'm panting.

And of course, I'm rock-fucking-hard. It feels so good to be rock-fucking-hard, too. Rock-fucking-hard pressing on his rock-fucking-hard stomach...

Shit! What the hell am I supposed to do now? He knows what he was doing to me... he knows it felt good... he knows I liked it, and there's nothing I can do about it! It's not supposed to be like this!

I don't know if I was making any kind of noises or not, or what I was doing, but Sno whispers to me, "Shhhh, Ryan. Shhh... It'll be okay... Don't worry about it." And before I can wonder what the hell all that means, he's pushing me backwards, so I have to take a couple of steps, or else I'll fall. Is he pushing me away? Is it over now? I look down at him -

He's on his knees in front of me, looking right at my dick... with this look in his eyes... Then, while I'm watching, my dick goes into his mouth.

I didn't even try to resist the feeling. I don't think it occurred to me that I was supposed to.

I doubt if it lasted more than thirty seconds before I came. It felt like my dick was going to explode – I swear, if something had somehow stopped it up, it would have just burst open. It felt like it was going to anyway, and I was kind of scared, but there wasn't much I could do about it at that point. I kept trying to grab onto Sno's hair, but it was so short and nappy that there was nothing to hold, but I kept clawing at his scalp anyway, then I doubled my body over, folding myself over him. It seemed at the time like it would make the pain not... hurt as much, or something. I don't really know why I did that.

And my feet... I felt like... like I couldn't stretch my feet out enough, or something, although it felt really good to try. I stood on tip-toes, splaying out my toes as far as they would go for some reason, like it felt good just to tense the muscles as much as humanly possible, to stretch out the bones – if that makes any sense. And I was super-aware of all these things, too, like nerves that I didn't even know existed were suddenly feeding my brain with all this new body-feedback.

None of these things had ever happened from jerking-off, that's for sure.

Sno sort of turned and pushed me off of him and onto the bed, where I laid still semi-curled up and fighting for air. I was breathing so hard, and it felt so good to do so. Like just breathing was this whole new sensation or something. I felt a blanket settle over me – he never said a word – and that was it, I guess I must have fallen asleep.

Because next thing I know he's shaking me awake. He says something about "weather coming up", and gradually realize that the boat is rocking and pounding quite a lot. I also realize that I'm lying in the bed next to him.

Well, apparently I've had sex with – and the slept with – a man. I wonder, just for a second, if I'm still 'a virgin', then he rips the blanket off my still-naked body and tells me to hurry up on deck. Then he's out the door.

I guess I'll have to think about it all later.