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    Bill W
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Castaway Hotel - 6 - 9. Chapter 9 - Doing What Comes Naturally

When I awoke the next morning, I had a boy pressed tightly against each side of me. One was Nigel’s fourteen-year old cousin, Will, and the other was Graham. It still amazed me that a kid who communicated with the dead would be so greatly affected by my stories. Then again, maybe it was due to his knowledge that the dead do sometimes move among us that gave my tales the added credence to convince him that such things might happen. Who knows? I certainly didn’t.

Once it got started, our second day camping progressed pretty much like the first. We spent much of our time at the lake, before the boys went off to play games of their own device. This began with my sons teaching Nigel’s clan about a game called capture the flag. They used two t-shirts, one red and the other purple, and tied them to sticks to serve as the flags. Then they split into two teams, placed the flags about half a mile apart, and then set out to capture the other team’s flag, without getting captured themselves.

It was wild just sitting back and watching the boys sneak, crawl, creep and slither through the woods, while trying to reach their target undetected. Although there were many attempts and some that nearly succeeded, it was one of Nigel’s boys, Kjetil, who was successful and finally ended the game.

That night, I let Nigel tell the boys stories about English ghosts, to keep them happy. He started by telling them the tale of the two young princes that were murdered by their uncle and are still rumored to roam the corridors of the Tower of London. He then went on to tell them about a couple of Scottish ghosts, who were a bit more rambunctious and troublesome than the two young princes. In fact, Nigel got quite animated while giving his rendition and the effect was either frightening or comical, depending on the emotional stability of the observer.

Once he finished with that story, he told them about a Welsh ghost, which was rumored to have driven people out of the country estate it haunted. The boys were listening carefully to Nigel’s long-winded account when it started to drizzle. The boys were so intrigued with what he was saying that they remained there until he finished and then we all hustled to our tents. I wasn’t worried about the campfire, since the rain would take care of it.

Before the boys ducked out of sight, I reminded them not to touch the inside of their tents tonight, as that would allow the moisture to seep through the nylon. After acknowledging they understood, we moved out of the rain and into our shelters.

Three of the boys, who were sleeping in a small two-man mountain tent, came rushing into my tent, about halfway through the night. They were damp, from running through the downpour, and dragging their sleeping bags behind them. After apologizing for disturbing our sleep, they asked if they could spend the rest of the night with us. Puzzled, I asked them why, thinking it might be because Nigel’s story had scared them. That’s when I discovered my hunch was incorrect.

Apparently, one or more of them had inadvertently dragged his hand across the tent fabric as he tossed and turned during the night, which allowed the water to leak in. When one of them began to feel the dampness, he thought he, or one of the others, had an accident. When he sat up to check it out, he discovered what the problem really was. That was when he awoke the other pair, to discuss what they should do, and they decided to come to me for help.

Understanding their dilemma, we squeezed them into the tent with us. Since only one of the sleeping bags was wet inside and out, I had the other boys zip the other four sleeping bags together and then the five of them squeezed in to them together. It was a bit cramped, but not uncomfortable, but it also helped that our uninvited guests were three of the smallest of the boys in the group.

By morning the rain had stopped, but we decided to wait before eating breakfast. The conditions would make it uncomfortable to eat at camp, so we opted go back and eat in the main dining hall instead. Since the boys’ stomachs were rumbling, we packed up our gear as quickly as we could, but that wasn’t fast enough for the boys. It took us longer than normal because we had to ring out as much water as we could first, so it wouldn’t be too heavy to carry, and then we lugged it back to our cabins.

When we got back, we dried off and stashed our things temporarily. I told the boys we would take care of it later, but now it was time to eat. When we reached the dining hall, we discovered there was going to be a dance in the Clubhouse tonight, after dinner. It was primarily so the younger people to have something to do, since the rain was expected to continue until morning. This would also give them a chance to get to know each other better, but the adults were told they could participate too.

The boys that had an interest in girls liked this idea, but my gay boys began to ask me if I thought they might be able to dance with their partners too. I told them I would discreetly inquire about that and then let them know later, but they shouldn’t get their hopes up until I found out for sure. They seemed satisfied with my response, so we went back to the cabins to take care of our things.

After we finished drying and putting our gear away, the boys began planning other activities they could do inside. Some went back to the clubhouse, to play board games, ping-pong, pool, the arcade games or shuffleboard, since they had areas set up both indoors and out for this purpose. The rest of them either loafed about, watched television found something to read, played cards or found other suitable activities to keep them occupied.

While they were entertaining themselves, I found the resort director and made a few discreet inquires.

“I just have a few questions I want to ask you about the dance tonight,” I began. “I know there aren’t enough young ladies to go around, compared to the number of boys, and some of my sons were wondering if people would have a problem with them dancing with each other?”

The director looked at me, thought for a moment, and then replied. “Well, I’m not sure I’ve seen anything like that happen here before, although I’ve seen some of the girls dancing with each other. I suppose it would be all right, so I’ll plan on making an announcement to that effect, so the other guests won’t question it either. Does that meet with your approval?”

“It most certainly does, and thank you for your understanding,” I replied.

Once I got back to the cabin, I started explaining about my discussion with the director. I told them what was said and what he agreed to, but I also warned them not to be too affectionate with each other, as that might draw adverse responses and possibly cause the director to change his mind. Everyone seemed to understand and was fine with this. At least now they could dance with each other, something they couldn’t do most other places. I think as they matured, they were satisfied taking the little victories wherever they could find them, without pushing for more.

Before the time for the dance arrived, some of my boys made their way to the cabins of the girls they were interested in and asked if they could be their date for the evening. After all the giggling and blushing, most of the girls accepted, but a few had already agreed to go with someone else. Eventually, though, everyone was able to find a partner and was excited about the prospects the evening offered. I was hoping they didn’t get too excited, because sprouting an erection while dancing close might present a problem.

As they showered before dinner, they paid particular attention to their hair (on top of their heads – I knew what you’d be thinking), and they even borrowed the one bottle of aftershave I always kept in my travel kit. It was a bottle of Brut and the boys didn’t think it smelled too bad or was only for old men to use.

Dinner proved to be an interesting time, as the boys and the girls kept exchanging glances, coy little waves, smiles and winks. Watching them going through these pre-date antics, it reminded me of a racehorse waiting in its individual compartment for the gate to open. In both cases, they were eager to get started, so they could unleash all of their pent-up nervous energy. In fact, I could almost smell the hormones filling the air.

It seems that this was not the first dance held here, and the staff was well aware of what two naked bodies grinding against each other might cause, so the vast majority of the songs played were of the faster variety. Only a handful of slow songs were played, and they didn’t seem to last as long as I thought they normally would. Regardless, other than that small inconsistency, everyone seemed to have a good time.

I noticed a few people staring at the boys dancing with each other, so I slowly made my way over to these individuals, one at a time. Once I was close enough, I would introduce myself and then comment about how there weren’t enough girls to go around. I would also explain that my boys wanted to practice their dancing skills before school started, so they’d be ready for the dances, which were always a vital part of the early social process. After I did that, no one seemed to give my boys a second glance and everything went quite smoothly from that point on.

When the dance ended, the boys walked their dates back to their cabins. Some got a very steamy good-night kiss for their efforts, while others merely ended up with a peck on the lips or cheek. Seeing we probably wouldn’t be seeing any of these people again, they didn’t get too upset about it, although their egos might have been bruised by the slight.

Since we only had one day left at the resort, we planned to spend it just relaxing and enjoying the end of our summer holiday. Nigel and his boys would be going back to our place for one final day, before we’d take them to the airport to catch their flight home. I know some of the boys had been fooling around and it was going to be hard for them to let each other go when it was time, but life would go on and their friendships would be long lasting.

When we went to breakfast, we discovered another surprise. The resort was holding competitions in ping-pong, pool, shuffleboard, horseshoes and volleyball. Everyone was encourage to sign up for as many events as they liked, since they’d be spread out over the course of the day and early evening, to eliminate any scheduling conflicts. The boys immediately jumped at the opportunity, so I knew Nigel, Jake and I would be required to watch them compete.

It was a fun time, as the boys competed against their own age groups. The winner and runner-up were awarded ribbons, but I think the knowledge that they had bested the others was more than enough for them.

At dinner, it was announced that there would be a large bonfire and sing-along for anyone interested and most of us decided to attend. Even though we’d had our own, smaller bonfire on the camping trip, the boys felt this would be another good opportunity to spend time with the girl they had taken to the dance, their own partner or a member of the other family, whom they would soon be parted from.

Once the bonfire was lit, I expected someone to come out with a guitar, but that didn’t happen. Instead, the director brought out a portable Kareoke machine. We instantly realized this meant that instead of singing the traditional camp songs, they’d be playing more recent melodies. I know our boys thought this much better, and I’m sure the other youngsters did too, although some of the older guests seemed slightly disappointed.

Over the course of the next couple of hours, a variety of melodies filled the air. I recognize nearly all of them, although I knew the words to less than half. The boys, however, were able to sing along with most of these tunes and impressed many of the others in attendance, especially their dates.

Once the music ended, we made our way to our beds. Although some of us slept alone, most of the boys paired up for the night and had a little fun before they drifted off.

When the bus showed up the next morning, about an hour after we finished breakfast, we loaded up and prepared for a nearly nonstop ride back. The bus had a toilet, so we only stopped for fuel and meals along the way, and the boys spent their time moving back and forth, so they could spend a little more time with each of Nigel’s sons. We didn’t arrive home until late that evening, but no one seemed bothered by it.

For the most part, everyone was pleased with everything we had done for the past two weeks, but none of them were looking forwarded to their time together ending. The two groups had grown even closer during this time and wondered when they’d be able to meet up again. Seeing how this was affecting them, Nigel and I promised we would reunite both groups again in the future, possibly even taking a combined trip to another country. The boys seemed to like this idea and began arguing, mildly, about which country we should go to. Nothing was decided by the time we reached home, but Nigel, Jake and I had a list of suggestions to consider.

That night when we went to bed, I discovered most beds were filled with more than just two boys. Many of them were trying to get a little more time together and clung to their friend throughout the night. They would be parting from each other shortly, so this was their final attempt to make it seem to last longer.

We spent our last day together skinny-dipping in our pool or playing soccer at the high school field. The activities were a little more restrained this time, as opposed to our earlier outings where we did something similar, and I could tell the boys’ hearts were not really into what they were doing. They were already looking ahead, to the time when they’d have to say farewell, and this took some of the spring from their steps.

That evening, I took everyone out for a large, farewell dinner. I had reserved the banquet room at our favorite restaurant, since we’d need plenty of space, and privacy, to do what I had in mind. Although we were in the banquet room, I rejected the idea of having a buffet. Instead, I let everyone order from the menu, so they could have whatever they wanted, and we also decided to allow each of the boys to have some wine. The boys fourteen and under were allowed half a glass, those fifteen to eighteen could have a full glass, and those eighteen to twenty could enjoy up to two glasses.

Although there was some minor discussion about how we had set these arbitrary limits, the boys eventually let the topic drop. They felt it was better to go along and enjoy what they could, rather than have us change our minds and cut them off completely.

I chatted briefly with the owner about which wines would be best, and selected a sweeter wine for the boys and a drier wine for the adults. We did allow the boys to have a small sample of each, if they desired, so they could choose the one that suited their taste best. Once everyone had what he wanted, I called for quiet, so I could speak.

“Before our meals arrive, I’d like to offer a toast,” I announced. “So if each of you will lift you glass, as I’m doing, I will begin.” After waiting for each of them to do as I requested, I continued.

“I would like to thank all of you for being so well behaved and making these past weeks so enjoyable. I also promise this will not be the last time we join together.” After everyone took a sip of his drink, I added a little more.

“I’d like to make one final toast to the Barstows, the greatest friends we could hope for. May your lives be long and happy, may your dreams come true and may the world come to see we are not a threat to them in any way.”

I heard Nigel utter, “Aye, mate,” and Jake whispered, “Amen,” but most of the boys merely gulped down another swig of his wine.

Once I finished, I asked if anyone else wanted to add anything or make their own toast, and the room immediately grew quiet. After a few seconds, the whispering began, as various groups debated whether they wanted to do something of their own. I think we were all mildly shocked when Nigel’s oldest son, Padraic, and Danny stood and asked if they could make a toast.

“We, Padriac and I,” Danny began, “didn’t feel we could leave here without thanking the three greatest men in the world. Needless to say, without you, most of us would have been homeless and struggling to survive, but you have given us hope and a future.

“Besides providing us a safe and happy home,” he continued, “you’ve also been there when we’ve needed you and shown us much love. You have also let us be ourselves, without trying to change us, and have also helped others to accept us too.” At this point, Danny stopped and Padraic took over.

“Over the years, you have done so many wonderful things and shown us so many good times that we shall never be able to adequately repay you for your love and kindness. You shall forever hold a very special place in our lives and in our hearts, and even though this isn’t totally sufficient, we’d like to toast you. God Bless Dad, Josh and Jake and may you be as happy as we are and may you find your rewards in heaven, for all you have done.”

At that point, the boys took a quick drink, set their glasses on the table and then stood and began applauding. I think Danny and Padraic started clapping first, but it was hard to tell, because it didn’t take long before the others joined in too.

As I listened to their words and looked around at the faces smiling at us, it brought me to tears. I glanced over at Jake, to see how he was reacting, and could tell he was more than a little choked up too. He told me later that he didn’t think he should have been included in the toast, since he hadn’t done nearly as much for them as Nigel and I, but I assured him he had earned their love and respect and deserved their praise as well. I told him the boys had come to accept and think of him as a second father, which he truly was, but I think he was still somewhat awed that the boys held him in such high regard.

Nigel was quite emotional too, as this affected him as deeply as Jake and I. As we sat and absorbed the profound impact of what had been said, the boys came around to give us hugs and impart their own personal comments. It was a truly touching time.

When all this commotion died down, I stood again, to thank them for what they’d just done. “I think I can safely speak for Nigel and Jake too, when I say thank you for the wonderful compliments you have heaped upon us. When it comes to rewards, we’ve already had ours. You have also filled our lives with much love and happiness and I think we have received much more from you than we have given. God was truly generous when he brought you to us and we could never ask for more.”

Needless to say, my head was still spinning when I went to bed. No matter how hard I tried, I found it difficult to sleep, because Danny and Padraic’s words kept playing over and over again in my mind, as if it were stuck in an endless loop.

After a couple of hours of restlessness, my heart started to beat normally again and my mind finally emptied, so I could drift off to sleep. My slumber was filled with many dreams, as I recalled how I came to have these wonderful sons, and my mind was racing again, shortly after I awoke the next morning.

Copyright © 2010 Bill W; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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