I was on a trip to Brazil to see family I hadn't seen for many years. At the start of the trip I had arranged to meet up with my cousin Leandro, his boyfriend Alex and some of his friends in a small holiday home he'd rented for a few days in a small town called Bonito, not far from the border with Paraguay.

By the time my bus arrived from the nearest airport and I had unloaded my massive eighty-litre backpack, it was already a while past midday and the February sunshine was unrelenting and oppressive for me. Barely twenty hours earlier I had been gingerly shuffling through slush and ice at the entrance to the terminal at Heathrow airport my plane was leaving from. It would take some time to acclimatise to ninety-percent humidity and temperatures barely dipping below 30°C.

When I arrived, the house looked a little ramshackle, though charming enough to make a four-day stay there seem like it would pass by pleasantly. I knocked at the front door but no one answered. So I went around the side to the back garden to find that Leandro was already hard at work on the churrasco, and, as his bear boyfriend, Alex took great delight in sarcastically quipping, he already had a sausage ready waiting for me.
Leandro was a thirty-year-old man mountain, almost six-foot-five and pretty stacked from the time he spent pumping weights at the gym. Alex was more a foothill than a man mountain. He had short dark hair, an impeccably trimmed beard and the classic hairy body of a finely maturing bear a few years in advance of his more youthful cub. Leandro had a thing for bears, as he had told me when he came out to me in his last trip to England eight years previously, so I was not surprised at all to see who he'd managed to shack up with.

Not long after gratefully chomping up Leandro's sausage (in a manner of speaking), I cracked open a beer with my the bottle opener on my keyring that had been a constant companion since my freshers week at university in 2004.

"No need for that, the bottle caps here can be twisted open," grinned Alex.

After a few refreshing gulps of the faux-German pilsner, my sights turned to the small but inviting fifteen-metre pool with the high afternoon sun glistening off its still surface.

Just as I thought about extracting my swimming shorts from my disorganised backpack, Alex saw me admiring the blue pool and told me, "Don't worry if you've forgotten your swimming shorts, you won't need any here!"

I was self-conscious enough about exposing the pasty white skin on my thirty-one-ear-old, six-foot-six, untoned fifteen stone body, never mind skinny dipping for the first time. And that was before noticing the close proximity of quite a few other houses whose occupants could quite easily see what was going on in our garden.

"Ha! Well, I'll follow your lead!" I responded, not really sure whether he was actually being serious or just trying to get me to let him (and any nosey neighbours) have a look at my package.

"Things are a bit different here, Billy boy!"

Just as he got the last word in, Leandro's two friends Ami and Laura made an entrance. Ami was curvy girl Leandro's age who looked like she was a plus-sized female version of me - mousy greyish/blond/brown hair down to her shoulders, and a shy demeanour when she introduced herself to me in very good English. Ami then introduced Laura as her girlfriend. Laura was a bit shorter, but caught my eye immediately with her fine curves and almost hypnotic green and brown eyes that almost glowed from her nicely tanned skin with alluring dark hair tied into a ponytail. Ami said Laura didn't feel comfortable speaking English, so I introduced myself to her in my best broken Portuguese. Either I was a great comedian or very bad at speaking her language.

After the beer I had knocked back earlier, I had already seemingly lost control of myself for a moment before my internal monologue chided my almost glazed over eyes for gawping at her – she was taken after all. I started to feel an inconvenient stirring in my pants as well, and after making my excuses to get my swimming shorts from the backpack, I went to the room I would be staying in to try and calm myself down. I began to take my shorts off, and then my tenting boxers off, causing my rock hard six-and-a-half inches of uncut cock to pull down, then spring right back up, pointing almost at a right-angle up at my face.

"Why the fuck did that just get me so horned up?" I muttered to myself under my breath.

I was usually more physically and sexually attracted to men. Although I was known to enjoy the company of ladies who liked someone who could give them a good seeing to with a rock-hard prick but didn't mind me not paying that much attention to getting them off. I hadn't been in a relationship for many years. All the dates and hook-ups I'd been on in the past few years with men never really connected on anything other than an ephemeral and superficial sexual level, and only that if I was lucky.

What just happened there exchanging smiles, greetings and giggles with Laura was something well beyond that, though I tried to tell myself that it was just a result of the beer going straight to my head after a long bus journey and the resultant lethargy. Plus, it would potentially ruin the holiday if I were to piss Leandro off for breaking up two of his best friends' relationship.

The last thought calmed me down, though not before my hyperactive libido had caused a small trail of precum to ooze out of my cock, which got worse as my cock went down to its usual three-inch floppy size again. Getting paranoid that I was going to have a suspicious wet patch on my shorts, I planned on walking briskly to the pool once I'd put my shorts on and jump in the pool. My masterplan was perfect, any precum-induced wet patch would of course no longer be visible when soaked in the water from the pool.

I started to pull my shorts back up, but just as they covered up my cock but still exposed my wild dark brown bush, Alex's large, hairy figure entered the room.

"Hey, lover boy, are you okay? Your jaw was practically on the floor looking at those two lesbians! Are you drunk already?!"

"Errrr, no" I stammered pathetically whilst pulling my shorts up completely. "Just being friendly"

"Look, I've heard some stories about you from Leandro"

"Oh fuck," I thought to myself. I dreaded to think what was coming next.

"He told me you're one horny son of a bitch, I've got my eye on you." He accentuated this with the internationally-recognised hand gesture for 'I've got my eyes on you' with his index and middle fingers.

I couldn't muster a response as memories of Leandro's last trip to England came flooding back.

"Don't worry, he's told me all about what happened... " he broke off mid-sentence with a short pause, before he incredulously intoned, "What's that wet patch on your shorts?"

Producing copious amounts of precum can certainly be a blessing, though here it was potentially turning into an embarrassment. However, this didn't cross my mind at all – the far greater embarrassment I sensed was to come from Alex, who seemed to know about what me and his boyfriend got up to eight years ago.

And there was a lot that might get him annoyed or even digust him, and also a lot would bring back some incredible memories. Some incredibly hot memories that I couldn't forget about or surpress, if even if I had desperately wanted to.