Interplay with Martijnby Robbieie, Netherlands
The next day I would not see my friend. He had come into my life in a way I haven’t known before, so fast.
It was a warm sweaty day with no sun, the relief of the thunderstorm still absent. Maybe indeed one Floris free day would be wise since the exam he’ll have the Monday after this holiday week is crucial for his education.
My kitchen was a mess, no more clean cups, not one glass proper. Besides that, despite the sticky weather, I had planned a training-run through the park nearby. Also sveral arrangements and preparations for the canoe-course tomorrow had to be made.
Since I was already sweating at 9 am I only dressed in my running-shorts which are the kind that look like my sliding-shorts, only the fabric is much thinner.
First the baddest chores, doing the washing up and put some clothes in the washing machine. Yea yea, even at my place some clothes are sometimes washed the conventional way, boring as it is.
While because of that the floor was now mostly free I even vacuum-cleaned a bit. Must have looked like a complete looney almost naked and loudly singing, using the slurf of the vacuum-cleaner as a microphone. At least I didn’t try to dance.
Canoe Course Booking
After that show I called the canoe-club to make the reservations for tomorrow. That appeared to be a bit of a problem.
"That’s very late" the guy who answered said. "It’s a holiday-week, we’re full all week".
"Oh, blast!" I lied: "It was to be a birthday present for a friend of mine, but I found out just yesterday when the birthday is exactly."
"Yea, that sucks" said the guy. "I’ll see if anything has got cancelled."
He took his time, but after a few minutes he came back.
"Well, you’re in luck" he said. "The FCY (in Dutch FPJ) had reservations for 10 people, but 3 have cancelled yesterday, so if you don’t mind the company we could book you with them tomorrow."
"The FCY?" I asked.
"Yea, that’s the Frisian Country Youth"
"Waaa we two with seven Frisians?"
We both laughed. In my province there’s a good rivalty between us and the neighbouring province Frisia. It’s a source for countless practical jokes and mock-songs, all-in good humour. The few who are really haters can spoil it, but mostly it’s fun. Secretly we are jealous that they have Beerenburg, Sven Kramer and good old Foppe de Haan, he is a real hero, but then of course we have Arjen Robben.
We made the arrangements and he told us to be at a small river, meandering to the north at a small village just north of my town.
It was time for the training-run before it got too warm to move at all. I grabbed a mesh shirt and put on Floris’ Nikes. They were still wet and I doubted if that was okay for a 1½ hour run. But then I remembered how often I had got soaked in rain during a run and never got blisters for the wet shoes. So I squished out after locking my door.
Yes, warm it was. After a few minutes I was drenched in my own sweat, but it felt good running hard and jumping walls. After about an hour or so though I had enough.
I was literally dripping with sweat so I bought a large ice cream, eating it while doing some cool-down. I am dependent on chocolate-ice, a real junk.
When I was about done with both the ice-cream and the cool-downs, a car came beside me and I saw a familiar face smiling at me.
Martijn is a great friend for many years. I already knew him in kindergarten. He is one of the very few people I told I’m gay, and the only one I ever told about Floris. Never about the wet hobby, though he wondered once how I managed to get my clothes wet so often.
"Eeys, what are you doing?" he said.
"Been running, need to relax a bit now."
"Hop in the car, we’re going to drink a beer at Mother V’s."
Mother V Pub
Mother V is a very old pub, already for more then a century at a beautiful place at a dyke just out of town. I jumped in and we drove off.
During the ride we babbled boys-things and he asked me about Floris. I wanted to tell Martijn what I felt for Floris, but couldn’t find words for it. While driving Martijn crinckled for laughing
"Boy you are alarmingly in love" he snickered.
"What! me?? noo way I never fall in love."
"Sure, sure, and the sky is green and the grass is blue."
"And I don’t love him, but I fancy you." I rhymed
"Yea yea exactly, Robbie the great poet. But do you see your lover whom you are not, I say not, in love with these days?"
I skipped the canal adventure but told enthusiastic stories of things we did together, going to the lake, eating pizzaas, and tomorrow a canoe-course.
"Haha, getting soaked again, I knew it. Does this Floris share your taste in swimwear?"
"I’m trying to teach him" I blurted out.
"Yea you know like, it's horny to walk into the sea with jeans on and swim in the canal and shag in the lake."
"No, you didn’t, in the lake? When? I don’t believe you."
"Eueuh, yesterday... Watch the road will you!"
Martijn couldn’t drive on. He stopped beside the road and looked at me with tears in his eyes from the laughing.
"This is really a thing for you isn’t it?" he said.
I blushed as a schoolboy and didn’t know what to say.
"Eeyz c’mon Robbie, what’s wrong? It’s me, martijn, why don’t you trust me no more? Sorry I laughed, but that was because of your 'teaching'." He put his arm around me. Though he is not gay we are sometimes very physical.
I hugged him back.
"You know, I don’t know exactly what it is too, but yea, you’re right I guess, I do get horny from boys in wet clothes. Be it in the sea or lake or shower or bath, and I want to teach my boy the things I love so much, and hope he gets the same joy from it as I. Please don’t tell anyone?"
"Eeeeyz buddy, of course I tell no one. What a stupid question."
I stomped him and he stomped me back, then he kissed me on my fore-head and said:
"Thirst! I need drink" and laughing we drove on.
When we arrived at Mother V’s, Martijn walked on directly to the terrace while I went to the bar to order the beer. Of course the original Mother V is dead for 150 years, but to the day of today the lady serving is called Mother V. I small talked a bit with her while she filled the glasses. I paid and went to the terrace doors. There I joined Martijn who had been waiting to catch me before I got out.
Welcome to Paradise
He had the most develish grin on him as he opened the doors for me and said: "Welcome to paradise!"
The terrace lays at the dyke and there is a tiny jetty where two or three boats can dock. At the moment there was no boat in sight.
Some of the local youth spending their holiday afternoon lying on the jetty and jumping off it. It was clear they hadn’t planned the bath. All wore their shoes because of the rocky bottom where glass and sharp stones lay. Apart from that only one boy wore something that, with some good will, you could call a conventional swim-shorts, be it over his knees.
There were boys in trackpants, in jeans, in chino pants. Most wore tshirts or soccer shirts. One guy dived just off the jetty when I came out, fully clothed in black jeans with a metal belt, white shoes and a smart white shirt, even a dark tie loosely around his neck. Splash!
I almost dropped the beer and must have looked like Wesley Sneyder when he missed the penalty against Argentina in ’14. How I regretted I hadn’t put on a decent shirt this morning instead of the mesh shirt which could not at all cover what was roaring in these flimsy running-shorts.
"Come" said Martijn "We’ll take this table. First rank for the show."
He winked at me, took the beers and sat down. I joined him and looked at the jetty again. Two boys of, say, sixteen years were clinching near the edge, one in white trackpants and white sneakers, no shirt, and the other in sagging grey pants, which his broad belt barely kept up. He also had a green tshirt on.
The jetty was slippery from when wet so despite them wearing sneakers they slipped sometimes. Finally the boy in the green shirt managed to pull the other one over the edge, but he slipped and plunged next to his victim in the dyke.
The other guys cheered and when the two swimmers hauled themselves back on the jetty they got pats on the shoulder. The boy in the sagging grey pants was long busy pulling his heavy soaked pants back up a bit, for the white boxer he wore was a bit exposing.
Another boy, still dry, saw this and with a rash movement he pulled them all down. He tried to run for cover but slipped on the wet jetty. The guy with his pants down grabbed him and with no ceremony dumped him in the water and dived back in. Cheers again and yet another two boys dove in, both in jeans, one black, the other very washed out with some huge holes in it and also a black tshirt.
"Martijn, I can’t handle this" I begged, looking at the four boys in the water and then at my shorts.
"I can’t stand up like this, please tell me something about rare abcesses, or spoiled cat-food, Sarah Palin, anything disgusting."
"Why don’t you join them?" he asked
"Are you mad? I’m not going to leave this chair before this boner is gone."
"Is that all?" he said, "Maybe I can help you there."
I looked at him, immediately seeing an image of him take care of my stiffie.
"Haha nooo, no such luck I’m afraid" he grinned "but I happen to have some clothes in the back of my car, I was on my way to my mother with some worn clothes to wash. But you’ll have to wear your own shoes. Nice sneakers you have on by the way. New?".
"Eueueh nooo, they are Floris’ shoes, and... and..."
"Haha, wearing each other clothes already, ey? Robbie the educational poet."
I grumbled because I knew I will hear this for weeks to come, if not months.
"Why don’t you just get a jeans for me from the car and what will you wear? What you have on now?" I asked.
"What me? I’m not going swimming."
"Why not? C’mon Tijn, try it once."
"Well, I don’t know, what must I wear then?"
"Duh! Your clothes."
"Yea yea, I got that part, but what feels the best to try?"
"Go and bring the whole bag here and we’ll sort something out."
"I really don’t know..." he started again but went to the car.
On the jetty four new boys had arrived on their bmx bikes and talked with the guys already there. Suddenly two of them started racing to the end of the jetty. Of course they went so fast there was no way of breaking in time so with a huge splash they hit the water, both in skinnies and tshirt.
The other two of course couldn’t stay behind and two more splashes followed. Then there was a lot of diving in to retrieve the sunken bikes.
Getting Dressed For Swimming
Meanwhile Martijn came back with a huge bag. He sat down again and opened it.
"Here, have your choice" he said shoving the bag towards me. I am skinnier then Martijn so I asked him what was a tight jeans for him. He grabbled in the bag a bit and took a very worn light blue A&F jeans, lay it next to him, hesitated and then took also a pair of medium blue G-Star jeans.
"They’re both actually a bit too tight for me. In fact if you want them you can have them."
"Wow, thanks!!! Are you sure? You know what, when you visit me soon you can choose something of my collection."
"Eeeyz, buddy, that’s okay man."
"Come, let me try the G-Star, you take the A&F, why not, they are not yours anymore." I grinned.
"Okaay, okaaay, you win, give them to me. Do you wear underwear under it?"
"Yea" I said, "i’ll keep on these running-shorts. You just wear the boxer you’re wearing."
On the jetty was now a hand-walking competition in progress, on the look of it with not much rules, merely an excuse to get more boys soaked, since everyone who tried fell in after a few hand-walks.
A boy in a black trackpants and red-white soccer shirt (Feyenoord) was trying his turn but landed in the water and joined a little group there that had found a plank to float upon.
Sitting I tried on Martijn’s G-Star (mine hehe) and they fitted perfectly.
"Wow," I yelled "you really sure you don’t want them anymore?"
When I saw him struggling with the A&F I understood why he gave them away. Nevertheless, when he had managed it looked super horny. Indeed a bit too small for him, everything very clear to see. My boner now was unbearble, despite the jeans still visible, but in no way so bad as in the shorts.
Meeting The Locals
"Okeey, let’s mix with the locals" I said and we walked to the jetty.
When we came there yet another boy, in dark blue jeans, white soccer-shirt (Real) and white cap, plunged in. One cutie, dripping in his white skinnies and red tshirt, red all stars, said: "That’s seven points".
"No, Frank," said another darker boy "five points, he missed the 3rd."
So there were rules to this game!
When the Real-boy had climbed back on, Frank told him: "Five points, Simon."
Simon looked a bit disappointed and tried to talk some more points to it. The two dripping boys were a glorious sight, water streaming from Simon’s cap, Frank’s white skinnies also rather revealing.
Simon looked at Martijn and said: "You tell him it was more then five points."
"But how could I do that? I don’t understand anything of this game, just that it gets you wet."
Frank and Simon explained the rules somewhat. You had to stand on your hands and then walk a parcour that was marked by some jackets. Every checkpoint gave points, but where you were finished no one could tell us. Appearently no one has ever come further then a few points.
"Piece of cake." I provocated them "I can’t believe no one ever made it."
Simon let out a yell and Frank shouted to his friends: "This guy thinks handymandy is easy."
Loud yells and booing, and the inevitable: "Let me see him try it" which was immediately picked up by the rest scanding: "Try try try".
So what can one do?
Falling Into The Water
They again explained the route to me and I got on my hands. Ay, the jetty was wet and very slippery.
First and second jacket I made, but just like Simon I missed the third, started swaying and fell into the water. I tried to not think too much that I now lay in the water wearing Martijn’s jeans, Floris’ silver nikes, and my own mesh-shirt.
When I surfaced there was loud booing and applause. It appeared that the booing was for poor me, and the applause for Martijn who had announced he’d try it too.
I stayed in the water waiting for Martijn to join me. It took him exactly three seconds to lose his grip and splash under. In his descent he unintentionally grabbed the jacket which marked the 1st point and shoved it with him into the water.
"My jacket!" shouted a boy in a large white wet tshirt, red shiny sagging trackpants, showing his transparent white boxer. He sloshed to the edge and dove after his jacket. When he emerged he faced Martijn who was embarrased and excused himself. Luckily the boy didn’t seem to mind very much.
"Now you can wear it for swimming." I said.
"No" he replied "I already have a tshirt on, you wear it."
"Let’s give it to Martijn" I said, he has only his jeans. By the way, I am Robbie and this is Martijn."
"Hi Robbie. Hi Martijn. I am Sebastiaan."
Beautiful short black hair, grey eyes, a dreamboy.
Martijn shook his head, but nevertheless warmed himself in the jacket that matched sebastiaan’s red shiny pants.
The three of us stayed a little in the water and we found out that we had several people we know in common. I asked him if they had this kind of water fiesta often and he told us only in holiday-time in summer.
"Do you always swim in clothes?" I asked.
"No, not when we plan to come here, but sometimes, like today, we would go to town and when it is too warm, so we end up here and swim in our clothes."
A few more boys, Frank and Simon among them plunged in too and joined us. We chatted about games and swimmingf in clothes.
They would be going home soon, so we all climbed on the jetty to dry up a little. Martijn looked gorgeous in his tight old A&F. He made some flappy bird movements with the dripping sleeves of Sebastiaan’s jacket. The other boys too made funny and sometimes obscene movements so that everybody had laughing fits.
"Hear the sound of my jeans" grinned a brown guy in sloshing dark jeans.
"Let me see your jeans?" I asked him and indeed the same kind of Nudie jeans that Floris had worn yesterday.
Floris. I had to think of my poor boy at home studying some boring book. Martijn felt I was drifting away so he said:
"Shall we leave?"
"Yeah, it’s getting late and I want to do some shopping for tomorrow." I said.
We said our goodbyes and Martijn handed Sebastiaan his dripping jacket.
"Thanks man, for not being angry at me" he said to him.
"No problem man, let’s have a beer with a few of us soon." Sebastiaan said.
We exchanged phone numbers and while they were packing in the last few dry clothes they had, Martijn and me walked back to the terrace to pick up his wash bag.
My beer was only half-drunk, but it had gotten warm so I left it and we walked to Martijn’s car. He changed into the bermuda’s he had worn originally and handed the dripping A&F jeans to me.
"Here you have them," he said "have fun in them."
I thought that was exactly the idea and thanked him again with a kiss on his cheek.
While we drove back I asked him how he had liked the clothed swimming. He thought it funny, in the beginning in only the jeans it felt good, the jacket was a bit too much after all.
"Do it again?" I asked him.
"I might, I dunno, maybe I should join your Floris class" he joked.
"Yaaa! good idea" I yelled.
"Tsss, hear our poetical schoolmaster!" he teased me, and so it went on till he dropped me off at my house. He wished me much love and fun tomorrow and went on to his mother.
As soon as I was home I tried the A&F jeans, they felt superchill. I decided to keep them on to the mall where I needed to go now. The idea that Martijn had been swimming in them just an hour ago made me so horny I had to do a one-man-show to relieve myself.
The jeans were now not so wet anymore that it was showing, Floris’ nikes on the other hand sloshed. My mesh shirt had been dry in five minutes or so.
I scootered to the mall and got me two water guns for tomorrow, some chocolate bars and two hamburgers for dinner.
Back at home it was still too early to bother Floris. I had to wait a bit more, so I googled the FCY to see what kind of people we could expect, and it didn’t look bad.
It was an all-boys club, ages 12-20, and though they officially declared on their site that their goal was to maintain and spread the Frisian culture (Frisian culture?? Duh) it looked that all they did was making fun and partying. Could be worse...
Finally, late in the evening I called my boy for the final arrangements.
"Hiii cutie" he said when he answered.
We love-smooshed a bit and he asked me how my day had been. Told him about my running, meeting Martijn, going swimming, only all those horny wet boys I left out of the story.
"How was your training?" I asked him.
"Sucked!" he said "I had a fight."
"Yeah, that’s what you do there, right?"
"Ha fucking ha" he said "a fight for real."
"How come? What happened?"
He told me that there is a guy in his training group that he always had trouble with. Said that was a really bad guy, when lately he had his sports bag stolen, ome guys from the group said it was this Alex that did it, nothing can be proven, of course. He and his brother always do bad, but now they had said horrible things about Floris’ mother. Floris’ parents are ridiculous rich and live just out of town. One way or another Alex and his younger brother had found out who Floris’ mother was and had been very insulting.
I heard from his voice that he was really in stress. Floris had attacked Alex and though nothing serious had happened his foot hurt, but, as he triuphantically announced Alex had trouble putting on his shirt. Luckily he was not dispensed, and that was also a sign that the people who run the dojo understood what happened. Alex will be watched very closely in the future.
"Which won’t help much because the two brothers are on holiday, so absent the coming two trainings."
Hmm away, ey? A very bad plan came creeping in my mind.
"Can you find out where they live?" I asked him.
"Yea, but I know already: in the C. Street. Why?"
"Hmm, don’t know yet, I’ll tell you later. So how was studying?"
"Eueueh… eueueh, well, you see, eueuh, I didn’t do as much as I wanted".
"Well, but did you study?"
"Eueueh, well hmm eueh."
"Floris what did you do today?"
Silence. then a small voice:
"what?? You’re gonna flunk your study for a children’s game??"
"Yeah, but, you see, I did it for you."
I was too stunned to react so he went on babbling faster and faster.
"You see I made a new area full of showers and pools and a bubblebath, and I’m going to put the game on your computer too and then you can visit me in my area and we can shower together, even if we cannot be together and..."
"Floris, stop!" I thought it so sweet of him. Of course I knew those square Lego-block puppets in minecraft and I could find absolutely nothing romantic or erotic about them, but my boy had spent a whole day to surprise me, despite his exam. There I sat with my two chocolate bars.
We love-talked at least for an hour when finally I said we needed to go to sleep, we had to be in S. at 9 am. I told him about the FCY and asked how we would get there. He had his mother’s car for a few days so he would pick me up at 8 (that is eight in the morning!!!).
I asked Floris if I could canoe in his Diesel jeans and Nikes I had borrowed yesterday.
"Yeah okay, if I can get some of your things."
"Chill! but I won’t wear the button shirt, bring me a tshirt and a sweater please, tomorrow will be much cooler then today. You can pick your clothing when you come pick me up."
We phone-kissed good byes and already I could hear the first grumbling of thunder.
I took off my clothes. The two jeans were still damp, the poor nikes already wet two days in a row, and tomorrow would be the third! I hanged the jeans out in my room to dry and then a huge thunderstorm passed my town. It kept me awake till deep in the night. The alarm at 7.15. It’s 3, then 4 am. I don’t know if I will sleep this night.