No Ordinary Beach Week

This is the story about the most fateful week of my life. I am writing this story as a catharsis in some ways. I feel a need to express these feelings. I still wrestle with thoughts of whether this experience was good or bad for me in the long-term. The answer sometimes depends on the day.

I know there is not much sex as people may like but all of these thoughts came pouring out as I wrote. This was truly a life changing experience and writing about it helps me.

Everyone in this story is 18 years of age.

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BEACH WEEK

In some ways it is laughable to remember what I was thinking at the time. I was 18 years of age and despite my lack of experience, I thought I knew everything about myself and the world. It is good to be young and dumb. I now realize how much I had to learn but never expected to find out so quickly.

One of the traditions in our area after graduating high school is to spend a week at the beach with your classmates. Beach Week was a time honored rite of passage into adulthood, or at least that is what everyone thought even though real pressures and responsibilities were still years away for most of us.

Unfortunately, my group of friends were not the most socially gifted. We mostly stuck with ourselves and did not get invited to many parties. I wanted to go to Beach Week but most in my group were indifferent. The rest of us just did not have enough people to make renting a beach house work. This once in a lifetime opportunity slipped away. We convinced ourselves that Beach Week was not that big of a deal and that we would have just as much fun celebrating graduation at home.

My plans changed, however, a few weeks ahead of graduation when I unexpectedly heard from my neighbor, Patrick. While living on the same street we had known each other since childhood but, while still friendly, we had grown apart in high school. Let's just say Patrick "matured" a bit quicker than me.

Patrick was athletic and his six-foot frame comfortable carried a solid 190 pounds. He was on the lacrosse team and spent plenty of the time at the gym. I had to admit it paid off. His broad shoulders gave him the perfect "V look" that all the girls loved. Despite his Irish heritage there was some natural color to his complexion. His complexion matched his dark, wavy hair. He was generally clean cut but quickly got a dark, stubble beard if he did not shave.

On the other hand, I had not developed physically. I was a more modest 5'6" with a pale complexion with smooth skin. I barely needed to shave. I weighed only about 140 pounds. While I was not overweight, I did not have much muscle mass but was more toned than anything. My small stature always made gym class torture for me. I assumed, or maybe hoped, I was a late bloomer.

Patrick and I moved in different social circles in high school. I am somewhat surprised, but excited, when Patrick invites me to stay at his house for Beach Week. He had an Uncle with a place on the beach that he was allowing Patrick to use for the week. With the late timing of the invitation, I could not help but think his parents made him invite me. I was nervous because I was not sure how I would fit in at the house. I was not really friendly with anyone other than Patrick and I doubt Patrick and I would be friendly at all at this point if we did not know each other from our younger days. Despite my concerns, I accept the invitation. It seems too good to pass up.

My parents seem just as excited as me that I was going to Beach Week. In hindsight, I think they felt I needed the experience and it would be good for me to be with a more popular group. Maybe I would gain some confidence.

My mother in particular was gushing over Patrick for inviting me. She is constantly telling me how lucky I was that Patrick included me. She thought Patrick was so mature and such a good friend. I found myself joining her in singing the praises of Patrick almost every day. All of this talk about Patrick was unwittingly making my insecurities stronger. I could not help but think she wished I was more like him.

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The time leading up to Beach Week was exhausting. I had final exams, my 18th birthday, followed by graduation, and then a family party to celebrate. Packing for Beach Week gave me the burst of energy I needed. I am still a bit nervous but also excited to have a beach house without parental supervision for the first time. Dreams of grandeur for the week filled my head as I finish packing Friday night. I go to bed early to get some rest before what I was sure would be a long week. Despite my best efforts, my nervousness about the week kept my mind racing and I do not sleep very well.

Since I am awake anyway, I decide to get on the road early. I know the house will be open because Patrick left earlier in the week to get things ready. As I pull up he in his bathing suit and hosing down the driveway. He does not hear my car with his earbuds in. I see he already has a nicer tan than I can ever get. I cannot help but notice he had more muscles than I remember. While maybe not a six pack, his abs were definitely tight. I also notice he has developed a coating of dark hair on his chest and abs which gives him a look of maturity and authority way beyond me. He definitely exudes the aura of the man of the house as he cleans the driveway. It is hard to believe he is only 38 days older than me.

I am the first to arrive and Patrick looks surprised to see me so early when I get out of my car at the curb. I am relieved when he greets me warmly with his "bro hug". God he is strong I think to myself. I can only imagine what he thinks of me.

Patrick helps me with my bags and gives me a tour of the house which is even better than I expected. The first floor has a large living area with a big screen television. There is an open kitchen with marble tops and latest appliances. Outside in the front there is a wrap-around porch. There is a back deck with a gas grill and plenty of seating.

The guest bedrooms are on the second floor. Patrick shows me my room. It is the smallest one with only one bed. I am in a way happy to have my own space and not have to worry about being in a room with someone I do not know that well. I will have my own place to get away from everyone if I need a break.

The rest of the group files in throughout the day. They were definitely more like Patrick than me but seem nice. I had seen them around school but never interacted with them much.

Everyone else quickly heads to the beach without unpacking but I stay back to get organized. I cannot help myself that way. I like to have everything in its place. I also do not want to spend too much time in the sun as I have the tendency to burn easily.

I change into my swimsuit and tee shirt, apply plenty of sunscreen, and head to the beach after I am done unpacking. Of course I kept my shirt on at the beach. I do not want to call attention to my body more than necessary. Patrick on the other hand almost never had a shirt on either at the beach or the house. He was obviously proud of his body and without his shirt on you could not help but notice him.

Patrick made sure I met everyone, including people from other houses, and went out of his way to make sure they knew we knew each other since we were kids. His introduction really seems to help break the ice and I am grateful that Patrick did that for me. It is fun getting to know the others. Everyone is friendly to me. In some way, I think they were going out of their way to include me for Patrick.

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The guys invite some girls at the beach to come over for a party that night to kick things off. The guys are all excited as they get ready including a debate over which girl is the hottest. This type of social life is all new to me and I feel out of my element.

The guys start drinking some beer with the music playing loudly waiting for the girls to arrive. Quite honestly, I have only had a few beers in my life and I did not particularly like the strong taste. I choke one down try to fit in but I notice it takes me much longer to finish a beer than the others.

One of the guys comes over to me with a cup full of a red liquid. "Try this and let me know what you think" he tells me. I take a small sip and am surprised when it tastes so good. I take another sip. "This is so good. What is it?" He smiles triumphantly when he hears me. "It is my special fruit punch that I make for the girls. There are pitchers in fridge." He says walking away telling the others that the fruit punch is ready! He gets cheers.

The girls arrive and everyone is having a good time. I decide to drink the fruit punch thinking it would become obvious that I was having trouble drinking the beer. My nerves were getting the better of me being around the group of girls. I find myself taking sips of the fruit punch to make myself look busy while I stay on the outskirts of the group.

I am not sure when but things started getting foggy for me. The fruit punch definitely had something in it. The next thing I know I am waking up in my bed with a dry mouth and a headache. I realize the sun is up. Looking for my phone I see it is already 11:00 a.m. I am usually an early riser.

Dragging myself from bed I get dressed and head downstairs. Everyone is awake as I come down and I feel their looks as I come into the room on shaky legs. Finally, I hear "It lives!" and everyone laughs. I then hear Patrick say "How are you feeling?" with a combination of a laugh and concern. "Oh ummmmm OK I guess" I lie. "What happened?"

They spend the next hour reliving my exploits from the night before. I had obviously become tipsy from the fruit punch. The girls had put on some old dance music. This was the kind of music that my mother loved and played in the car and house since I was a kid. I knew all of the words. Eventually the girls got me out singing and dancing with them. They showed me the videos. The grand finale was dancing to YMCA with me in the center of the girls spelling out the letters with my arms and everyone clapping. Apparently Patrick broke it up after that one and helped me to bed.

I was so embarrassed in particular because I had no recollection of doing any of it. I will say everyone seemed to think it was fun and did not laugh at me but with me for the most part. In particular, the girls were reassuring. We were just having fun they told me.

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Our house being the nicest, it quickly became the center of the social circle. It was very exciting for me to feel so much a part of the "cool" crowd. Word spread about my dancing the first night. People seemed to think it was fun. Everyone made sure my glass was full of fruit punch at gatherings at our house. After they thought I had enough to get me out of the shell, the dance music would start and I would be out there again. In some ways I felt I was the house mascot for dancing when they wanted but everyone is having fun.

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I would go down to the beach with the guys but leave when the afternoon sun started getting too hot being careful not to burn. While it was nice to be in the middle of all the fun, two things quickly became clear. Our house was constantly a mess and my roommates were not the neatest people. As I mentioned, I like to have everything in its place. Perhaps not quite OCD but I do get out of whack when things are messy.

I am enjoying being part of a group like this for the first time and do not want to make a scene about the house being messy. Instead, I use the time with the house to myself in the afternoon to tidy up. I clean, do the dishes, run the remote vacuum and get the trash and recycling out.

Only Patrick seems to notice that what I am doing. It may be because he knew he was going to have to clean up at the end of the week anyway. He would give me a "Good job Joe" every once in a while looking over the place. I really do not like when people call me anything but Joseph but I did not say anything to Patrick other than "Thank you."

I even found myself washing the towels left around the house to keep things neat. The washer and dryer are on the third floor. Patrick sees me doing the wash one day and asks if I would mind doing his clothes. He catches me off guard and I tell him that it would not be a problem. Again, I am thankful that he invited me to stay for the week. He gives me his laundry before going to the beach.

I wash and fold Patrick's clothes with some of my own. I decide to his clothes back in his bedroom so that they will be out of the way. His bed was a mess which I hate. I make my own every morning. I make his bed too and leave his folded clothes on top. This became a daily routine. Patrick leaves clothes for me at the washing machine and I return them clean and folded on his freshly made bed waiting for him when he gets back.

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Things in the house calm down as the week goes on. Everyone is tired from the late nights and you can see people moving a little slower. I am, in particular, feeling tired. I have never partied this much combined in my entire life. I am not feeling particularly steady after a few days.

My week, and even my life, begins to change on Wednesday morning. A few us were waking up watching television with some idle chat including stories about the prior night. Patrick comes in later and sits at in the corner of the sofa in just his gym shorts as usual. He starts telling his own tales from the night before. I was not at the same party and was about to ask a question about a girl I had a little crush on. I go silent when I look over to Patrick. Directly in my line of vision is the head of his cock and part of his shaft peeking out of his gym shorts. His cock is resting flaccid on his muscular thigh. I do not think he knew it was showing but I cannot help but look. The pink head highlighted the olive complexion of his shaft. Even in its current state, his cock is certainly thicker and longer than mine. It reminds me of a serpent waiting for anything to get close and then attack. The sight is quite honestly intimidating. I realize I may be staring and I leave the room shaken.

As much as I try to occupy myself, it seems I cannot stop thinking about what I saw that morning. The vision pops back into my mind without notice and seemingly more frequently. I have to admit that Patrick has an impressive and, dare I think, good looking cock.

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I am sitting by myself on the front porch later that afternoon. I feel out of sorts between what I saw that morning, the hot sun and, of course Patrick. On the beach I was unable to help myself from watching Patrick from behind my sunglasses when I had the chance. He has an amazing presence about him. He moves gracefully but at the same time powerfully. You can see why he excelled at sports. I also find myself taking peeks at his crotch to see if I can confirm the image burned into my mind. My memory is correct.

After checking in on social media, I stare out at the ocean. The sounds and movement have a calming effect. I notice a piece of drift wood. For some reason, the sight resonates with me. I watch as the wood as it bobs and moves with the waves and current of the powerful ocean. The wood is helpless with nature in complete control.

My tranquil thoughts are broken when Patrick unexpectedly comes out with a beer for each of us. I really do not want a beer, or any drink, but I accept it from him. He sits on the porch railing directly in front of my chair. After some small talk, Patrick smiles and says "Believe or not I am getting a little tired of all of this partying with the guys. I really wish Natalie was here." Natalie was his girlfriend and, not surprisingly, a cheerleader and one of the prettiest girls at her private school. "I am sure you miss her" I say trying to be supportive.

"Yeah" he says looking away with his mind clearly lost in some other thought which I assume is about Natalie. It seems his chest and arms swell with pride with whatever he is thinking. Even his chest hair seems to stand up giving him an even more masculine presence. Thankfully I am still wearing my sunglasses. I cannot help but look over his body again as he was lost in his own thoughts. The outline of his cock seems to grow in his gym shorts.

"How about you? Are you seeing anyone?" Patrick says jolting me from my daze. I am always reluctant to talk about my minimal experiences. "Well ummm I have been out with one girl a couple of times but it is nothing serious like you and Natalie." Patrick responds with a chuckle before announcing "I need another beer. How about you?" He gets up to leave as I decline the offer with my beer still almost full. "I still have a lot to teach you" he says and then patting me on the top of my head as he walks away leaving me even more flustered.

Trying to gather myself I look back out at the ocean. The drift wood is gone. What happened? How could things change that quickly? Nature is so powerful.

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On Thursday, most of the guys spent less time at the beach and gather on the back deck in the afternoon. The vibe is mellow with some social drinking and the music is not as loud. I did not go to the beach to avoid Patrick but I am still feeling out of sorts with everything going through my head.

I went in to get something to drink and realize that having alcohol would not be a good idea. I grab a bottle of lemonade and join a couple of others in the living room watching television.

Patrick comes down after a shower and decides to join our group cracking a beer and sporting just his gym shorts as usual. He quickly grabs the remote, changes the television channel to his sports channel, and takes over the discussion. I find myself getting even more quiet as Patrick again is the center of attention. His physical and mental presence is overwhelming to me at this point. I am afraid to even look his way.

Getting up for his second beer Patrick asks me "You finally want one?" on the way by and playfully adds "Wimp" to the laughs of others after I decline. Patrick again has me feeling a step behind and embarrassed. I hope he is just having fun. I blush slightly and smile weakly as he moves gracefully past me to the kitchen.

Patrick returns and, after handing out beers to the other guys, he plops down in the corner of the sofa just to the right of my chair. Taking a sip of his beer he sighs "Ahhhhh this tastes good" before leaning back and putting his strong leg over the arm. I am feeling like a bit of an outsider and slowly drift out of the conversation. Barely listening, I just smile every once in a while without adding much.

Patrick, on the other hand, is again quickly taking over the conversation. I look toward him when he starts with another of his stories. His loose gym shorts are again opened a bit on the leg closest to me. As I now realize is customary, he is not wearing underwear. I can see his cock again sitting on his leg as he talks. I quickly look away flustered and afraid that I will stare. I was the only one who could see because of the angle of his body toward me. Can this be another coincidence?

I try to concentrate on the conversation but find myself looking back every so often. I cannot help myself. It was like I am being told to look over. I should have just left but I am mesmerized and watch as his cock moves slightly and even seems to grow. Patrick's cock is even more impressive and better looking than I remembered.