***AUTHOR'S NOTE*** Continuing with my objective of thoughtful character development and storytelling, this work gradually builds sexual tension. All characters are 18 and over.
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His cinnamon skin glistened with a glittery sheen of sweat; muscles flexed and expanded across his tight and smooth skin. Lifting these heavy boxes was no feat for him. Rafael was fit and retained his youthful appearance into his late thirties. He had on a pair of salmon-color swimming trunks that hugged his contours in such a way that they left little to the imagination.
I found myself staring repeatedly at his crotch each time he turned my way. He picked up another cardboard box from the edge of the boat and walked it down into the depths of the vessel. I barely turned eighteen years old just four months prior, and I had all the sexual desire and depravity a teenager could have.
I could see the outline of Rafael's soft dick and hefty balls, I tried to imagine how gigantic his flaccid genitals would look in my little hand. Seeing his body at work sent a tingling through mine...I knew I was going to live in close quarters with him for a very, very long time. His physique was like a Brazilian God, and there was a certain excitement that overcame me with his exotic looks. I know it's not right to fetishize men of color, but this was a beautiful man, and I couldn't help but picture my white twink body pressed against his and stroking the trimmed chest hair on his pecs.
"Aaron," he said, snapping me out of my lucid trance. "C'mon keep stacking more boxes, we have a schedule to keep." His voice wasn't baritone, but it was deep, commanding, and yet gentle on the ears.
I blinked repeatedly while I cleared my mind and hastily returned to work, grabbing boxes of food and supplies from the small trailer hitched to a utility vehicle. I carefully stacked the boxes on the edge of the catamaran for him to pick up. As I moved, I could feel my stiff cock tugging at my shorts.
He added, "We'll have plenty of time to zone out once we're at sea."
"Yeah," I replied shakily. "I'm just nervous." I was nervous to be on such a long voyage, but in this moment, I was more anxious that he could see my boner.
"I told you, everything will be ok, I'll keep you safe, just like old times. Don't you trust me anymore?"
My left eyebrow jerked up while I cocked my head, "It's not you that I'm worried about, it's mother nature. Besides, I wished that I had more time to practice; to prepare myself for the trip or something."
"Sailing is in your blood," he smirked, lifting a heavy box as if it were filled with packing peanuts. "You're just a little rusty, but it'll come back to you, it's like riding a bicycle." As he turned to descend into the boat, he gestured toward me with the quick nod of his head, "It's like 100 degrees out here, why are you wearing that sweater?"
Seeing a body like his, I'd probably bust a nut in my shorts if I had to expose any more of my skin. Of course, I didn't say that to his face, merely thought it.
It wasn't long before we said goodbye to the San Diego Marina and sailed out into the open waters of the Pacific, destined next for Hawaii and then the world beyond. It was just me and Rafael on this boat for the next year...a lifelong dream of his that he wanted to accomplish before he got too old to easily fulfill it.
Rafael has been a good father for the most part. We don't look too much alike though. He is the son of Brazilian immigrants; he is a mixture of Black, White, and Native. I, on the other hand, inherited almost all my features from my white-trash mother including my petite, twink-like body. Mom abandoned me just a year after my birth, and Rafael raised me on his own until I was thirteen, and then he was out of the picture for another 5 years. Now here we are after such a long hiatus from being father and son, about to sail the world together. He is mostly a good man, but still a deeply flawed human being. There exists between us a great chasm that I wasn't sure if we could bridge.
What the hell am I doing on this boat? Who am I kidding...I know exactly what I'm doing on this boat. One look at Rafael's physique and his charming smile, and I'm signing up to sail the world! I must be completely out of my mind!
"I said, do you want more rice?" His face came into focus from across the little table. We were seated in the living room of the catamaran, enjoying dinner. He was holding a small saucepot with Spanish rice in it, a family recipe...so it's technically Brazilian rice, but whatever. The windows beyond him were dark. The overhead lights, however dim they were, offered enough luminance to blot out my view of the stars beyond the glass.
"Oh," I sat up, sheepishly realizing I had zoned out again. "Yes, please."
He stood up and came around to my side, still shirtless, still wearing those tight swim trunks, and I doubt anything underneath them. As he scooped a spoonful of rice out of the pot, his trunk-like arm was in front of my face, and the warmth of his skin radiated to me. My eyes traced the sinews of his back all the way down to the plump, round glutes of his ass. And then I was experiencing dry mouth. As he went back towards his end of the table, I quickly reached for my water and gulped it feverishly, spilling some of its contents on my sweater.
"You should take that off," he gestured to my sweater with the nod of his head as he spooned more rice onto his own plate. "It's a warm night."
"Speak for yourself," I countered quickly. "I run cold."
We spent the waking hours of the night mostly in silence. Rafael played music on the speakers as we both cleaned up after dinner. I forgot he hated doing dishes; he'd do any other chores, but dishes were his worst enemy. As I began scrubbing plates and pans, I started to realize this was going to be a long voyage.
After wishing each other a goodnight, we each retreated to our own cabins. The quarters were tight, I had a cabin on the port side, and he had an identical one on the starboard side, we each had a bathroom/shower combination, and there was a smaller bedroom on the forward end of each side of the catamaran, but we filled those spaces with extra food and supplies in case we ran into unexpected hurdles at sea.
I closed my eyes, and almost instantly, I was seeing mental images of him, Rafael, shirtless and staring at me with a smoldering expression. I've always had a frail, twink-like body, and so when I was around men with even a slight build and masculine features, I melted. Though he has black curly hair and cinnamon brown skin, the white Portuguese in his blood gifted him with dazzling light blue eyes.
I pictured hugging him tightly like I did so many years ago, feeling that smooth skin on my face. Then I tried to imagine both of us naked and clinging to each other in a tight embrace. I imagined feeling his large manhood pressed against my belly, and my smaller cock rubbing against his hairy upper thigh. I tried to picture what his nipple felt like on my lips, the trimmed hair on his chest, and his expertly groomed Balbo-style beard.
I wanted his cock, I needed to see what his cock looked like and how it feels with blood surging in an out of it as though it were alive on its own...a throbbing creature that prefers to probe deep into a tight warm hole like mine.
I wrapped my fingers around my own shaft...sliding my hand up and down.
With my imagination, I painted a perfect picture of my face up against his trimmed bush, trying to take in each lungful of his male pheromones through my nostrils. "Aaron, we shouldn't..." he would say, but I'd yank his shorts down, exposing his large brown cock and licking its plump pink head with my tongue, awakening the beast. I didn't know what his cock or balls looked like, but I could spend hours in this bed imagining the variety of black and native Brazilian cock that swung between his legs like the clanger in a bell.
