David's First Year at College

I decided to invite Jon to stay with us at home over Easter. As Easter was extremely early that year, he was able to travel home with me at the end of term on the train. He did not possess a car, because he said he didn't need one in Camford and it was expensive to garage it. So he travelled to London by train, using bus or taxi in Camford and tube or taxi in London. The flat in London where he stayed was just a 'pied à terre' he said, belonging to the firm---a bedroom, bathroom, small kitchen and minute sitting room with a television set. No computer. He took a laptop with him if he needed it, which he often did.

I often wondered how he was able to do so much, before I realized that going out with me was the only recreation he had. When I was at choir practice, basketball-training or -playing, he was at home (or at the lab) working. He went out on his own to eat usually, though he did sometimes warm up convenience food on a microwave. He could cook, he told me, but didn't have time. He kept fit by walking or cycling everywhere, with a swim once a week if he had time.

At home it was a revelation. He got on with my parents like a house on fire, and was very nice to my little sister and brother. My sister fairly obviously fancied him. I thought: you are wasting your time, young Dorothea, he only likes men---though in fact I had no firm evidence for this statement, except my instinct, which was probably none too reliable. Big emotional mistakes can be made about sexuality. I realized that I was becoming attracted to him. Suddenly I found myself thinking of him at times when there was no reason to, and when he left on the Wednesday after Easter with the fervent request of all the family to come again, I felt a void, an ache. I missed him. One of the symptoms of love? Maybe. He had been extraordinarily charming to my parents, and he did have a beautiful voice, though as I found later when he spoke from his rear end, the sound was less beautiful.

Chapter 3

I continued to miss Jonathan right up to the beginning of term. He telephoned twice, once to ask if there were any books I needed for the forthcoming term and once to ask what train I was coming back to Camford on, as he would meet me at the station. In both cases, we chatted for longer than was strictly necessary.

I arrived at Camford station on the day before the Pentecost term began. Jonathan met me on the platform. He said

"Hi," took my luggage, put it down and then shook my hand in a way that felt as if he were holding it. "I've got a taxi waiting," he said.

"Waiting?" I said "what if the train had been late?"

"It would only cost me a few bob" he said.

The taxi took us to St Boniface's and Jonathan paid the driver. He took two of my cases, leaving me to bring the rest and carried them up to my room.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" I asked. He said yes. He looked tired.

"You look a bit under the weather" I said.

"Just tiredness," he said. "I had a series of late nights meeting various deadlines. But that is now over. Would you like to go out?"

"Yes, but I need to be back for dinner."

"No problem, let's walk through Jesserod Meadow."

We walked out into the meadow. It was a beautiful day in early May when most of the trees were showing pale green leaves, but the ash and oak were still grey. I had a university examination that term and Jonathan asked how my work was going.

"Okay" I said, "my progress test last term was good. I felt myself wondering if Y" (the charming chemistry tutor --an able young unmarried organic chemist with an impressive grant track record and a great future ahead of him) "fancies me. He looks at me in a very lecherous way sometimes."

"Y? I don't think so. He's engaged to a professor's daughter." Duh! There was my faulty gaydar again.

"Oh, the Albert Woods of the later 20th century then?"

"You could say so. But you must be used to being eyed up by women, and men too, I suppose. A lot of people find you very attractive you know" he said. Did that mean "including me?"

"I'm not the only fair-haired man in college" I said shortly.

"You need a girlfriend, even if not very serious---non-sleeping I mean---unless you want to get a lot of unwelcome attention in college from both men and women" he said.

"Rubbish," I said "this isn't the Middle Ages. I can look after myself." I thought I detected a note of anxiety and possibly jealousy in his voice. "There are lots of things in life besides sex, even though many 15 to 30-year-olds don't seem to be aware of it."

"Don't start on about the need for the gospel among the youth" he said.

"You make me sound like Christian Union member," I said. I'm not a member and I don't subscribe to their views, so it's irrelevant to bring them into the discussion. I've learnt a lot from you, Jon in the last few months. Don't start on about something you do not know anything about. Christianity is a much more diverse and enlightened religion than you think. Who are you, the solitary hermit, to go on about human needs for sex? Sex is a small part of our lives, even if a nice one, or so I'm told."

"Are you a virgin then?" he asked.

"I wouldn't answer that question from anyone else," I answered, "but you are different. Anyway I won't tease you by keeping you in suspense, yes I am. I'm waiting for the right person to come along, and then it will be serious and permanent. I've never done it with either boy or girl." I felt myself going red. "I want a relationship, not one-night stands."

"You must be undersexed then" he replied. I couldn't believe that I had heard that. He was obviously trying to provoke a reaction from me, but it didn't work. I needed him to be more forthcoming about himself before I would say anything about my lack of sex life.

"Look," I said "what I do on my own is my business. Anyway what about your sex life?" This embarrassed him. "I'd rather not talk about it just at present," he said. "I will tell you one day though."

"Jon," I said to him "why the sudden obsession with sex? You know a lot about chemistry, money, computer programming, films and literature. We can and do talk for hours on any of those topics. Why need we talk about my sexuality?"

"I just wanted to get you thinking about it" he said.

"Jon" I said "I missed you enormously in the last three weeks. Our friendship is quite deep, considering that I've only known you for six months." I dared not say more until I had thought more deeply about the whole thing. We arranged to meet and eat in Hall on the Wednesday.

The beginning of term is a busy time, but I had to consider my position in relation to Jon as a matter of urgency. I knew a quiet suburban church that curiously in these days was kept open without supervision. It could be reached via the Brookside walk. My lab class was over by 4 pm on the Tuesday and after it I wandered along slowly through Brookside and reached St Clement's church. I went in. It was very dim inside. I walked to the front of the nave and sat down quietly in a pew. I began the standard physical exercises supposed to make you open to the influences of God...

Half an hour later I was walking back to college and my thoughts were clear and organized. I knew for certain that I was in love with Jon, and although I knew that the relationship that I was contemplating would meet Aelred of Rievaulx's first test of false friendship ("friendship for carmal pleasure" in his book 'Spiritual Friendship'), I felt certain that God would bless our relationship, as he does of any unselfish act. I rang Jon at home. "I'll see you on the Hall steps tomorrow" I said. "I don't want to drink any beer." The next day was difficult. I had a lecture at 9 and another at 10, a tutorial at noon, which lasted till 1-30. As I was in college I was able to get a sandwich in the beer cellar and a glass of fruit juice. As it was Wednesday it was basketball, but luckily only practice. I was not at my best and missed a couple of easy goal shots. I showered hastily afterwards and refused to go with the rest of the team to the pub. I relate these details because they are the details of the most momentous day of my life so far, the day I was to admit to myself that I was gay.

The menu in Hall I cannot remember. I ate it, being hungry from the afternoon's exercise and drank fruit juice again. Jon had a pint.

"Let's not bother with coffee" I said, "it's a beautiful evening and I want to talk. Let's walk to the Carp at Stubbington along the Camwell towpath." We set out.

"What's the matter with you David?" Jon asked. You've not drunk any alcohol. Have you been bitten with a temperance bug or are you trying to lose weight?" he said with a grin. In reply, I just took hold of his right hand and held it with both of mine.

"Jon" I said "I know that you are a good person, and if I am mistaken about your feelings you will not tell anyone about this but clearly you want to know how I feel. Well, I love you." I hadn't dared look at his face while speaking, but now he stood stock-still and I looked at him full in the face.

"David," he said "that's the most wonderful news I have ever had in my life. I've wanted you desperately ever since I first met you in the Town Hall. He grabbed my hand, led me through an open gate and behind a hedge where we were out of sight, and he then threw his arms around me and we kissed passionately. I can't really say that it was the first time I had kissed a man. I kiss my father perhaps a dozen times a year, and I often kiss my little brother. But sexual kissing is quite different, and sexual kissing another man quite different from kissing a woman. A man's face is always rough, no matter how well shaven he is. But the experience was tremendous. I felt as if I were falling into a deep abyss of joy. And that the emotion was genuine, I knew because I had taken no alcohol, my judgement was not clouded and I was sure that God approved of what I was doing. I opened my mouth and Jon's tongue entered it. I caressed and rubbed his back and buttocks, his neck and shoulders. After what seemed an age, we stopped, breathless, with massive bulges in the crotches of our trousers.

"We had better go back to my place" said Jon, "it's more private there." I can remember nothing about the walk back to Fountain Street where Jon's flat was. We entered, and he checked that the door was locked. "Come up to my bedroom" he said.

Romantic stories with pretensions to artistic or literary merit stop at the bedroom door. But this is sexual fantasy, and the prurient reader (as well as the prurient writer, me) will wish it to continue. Some of the language will get crudely explicit, because that is how men talk to one another in real life. Right, so this then is pornography, but pornography where the story is as important as the sex.

"Let's undress each other" I suggested. This is always an erotic experience and can be made as slow as one wishes, to build tension as in striptease. But we were both in a great hurry. However, we removed our shoes and socks and then started to undress each other. We pulled our shirts off, and naked to the waist, we we hastily unbuckled and unzipped each other's trousers and pulled them down, throwing them on the floor. I was wearing pale blue briefs, and Jon a yellow g-string: a front bag to hold the genitals with just a strap round the waist and a thin strap running from this between the buttocks to the crotch. We both had a massive "tent" in front where our erect manhood was struggling to escape. We pulled down each other's undergarment and and stepped out naked and fell into each other's arms.

"Listen" said Jon "lovemaking between men can be very messy, especially if you've not had a wank recently. It was traces on the sheets at the Savoy noted by the chambermaid that got Oscar Wilde convicted of gross indecency."

"Did that mean 144 times?" I asked facetiously.

"I'll get a big towel" said Jon and pulled one out of a drawer. "We can clean our persons under the shower, but I don't want my sheets in a mess." He pulled off the duvet and spread the towel on the bed. As he bent over to do so I knelt down and started to kiss his arse. Finished, he jumped onto the towel and I lay beside him kissing his ribs and hips. I pulled him onto his back and began to kiss his nipples and nibble them. I nearly went crazy. I kissed his midriff, his bellybutton and his belly and began to kiss his hard and slimy prick.

"Get on top of me with your prick between my legs" said Jon. I did so, and he closed his legs, as I straddled him. He knew just the optimal pressure with which to squeeze my prick, as I moved it in and out of his crotch. His cock was hard and slimy and pressed against my belly. I lay forward and began to kiss his nipples again and he put his hands on top of each of my buttocks.

"The technique is to try to time things so that we both come at the same time" he said. I clutched his upper arms and shoulders and we began. I rubbed my belly as much as I could against his tool, but it looked as if I was going to beat him to it. I slowed down a little and felt him respond under me by pushing himself upwards. I resumed my movements with great speed in and out until eventually I came violently, but I kept moving and even gave his tool a helping hand with my finger. After a minute or so he moved his hands to my shoulder and lunged forward and I felt his hot squirt spread over my diaphragm and chest. I remained in position on top of him and lay still, kissing his chest and upper arms.

"I love you, Jon," I said tenderly.

"You know" he said, "I thought I was falling in love with your mother until I realized that the reason that I felt so tender about her was that she reminded me of you. I had intended to let our friendship stay platonic for a few months longer, but I just couldn't wait that long."

"But by that talk that you gave me the other day, you forced me to think about my sexuality, and I now know that I'm gay."

"But the way you have just been kissing me, David, shows that you wanted me even before you were conscious of it! Roll off me" he said. I lay on my back beside him, my hand on the bush of hair around his prick, which was now limp. However it was all disagreeably sticky and we agreed that we needed to shower.

"We can both get underneath the shower together" he said "if we press up close." So we did, and with a little soap, the love-juice was soon washed off. The shower was lovely and warm and we soon began to fondle one another again.

"You know that time at the swimming pool" I said "when we were eyeing one another up? What I most remembered about you is your delightfully small arse. I regret that mine is rather big."

"What struck me about you" he said "was your magnificent uncut cock. Of course I'd only seen it limp at that stage, but it certainly is a beauty."

"Have you had sex with a boy before?" I asked.

"Three or four times," he said. "when I was at boarding school. I'll tell you all the details one day. One was a boy who invited me to stay with him at home in the school holidays. We shared a bathroom, and I think that he wanted me to fuck him so that he could blackmail me. He knew that I had money. But I refused to fuck and all I did was to suck him off. I never felt attracted to him at all. I resolved that when I did find the right person, sex would be tender and mutual."

"What about when you were an undergraduate? Surely you must have had the odd short affair with someone?"

"Just once. We sucked and messed around, but didn't go the whole way."

"What about women? Have you ever fucked a woman?"

"No, I'm not interested in women."

"So you've never fucked anyone then?"

"No," he replied.

"Have you ever wanted to?"

"Lot's of times. What man hasn't wanted to?" he answered.

Maybe some men just want to be fucked, I thought, but I said nothing, I just put my right arm around him round the chest and kissed his shoulder. He suddenly enfolded me tightly and kissed me repeatedly on the mouth.

"Don't stay in college next year" he said "come and live here with me. We can sleep naked in each other's arms every night."

"When you put it like that, how can I refuse?" I answered, "but I shall move back to college in my third year." As he put his arm around me once again, he suddenly let a loud fart.

"Pardon me for not warning you" he said, "if you come to live with me you're bound to hear me do that. And of course you are free to do the same. If you share my bed you have to be free to fart in it, as I will. If the thought repels you, then it's not too late to change your mind. But it would be idle to pretend that neither of us ever gets gas in our guts."

By now I was crazy with lust and pushed my prick between his legs from behind and started working it in and out.

"Don't let off again," I said "or you'll blow me out of the shower!"

"Do you realize" Jon whispered to me as I put my arms round his chest and pushed my prick between his legs "the you are just about to commit a second act of indecency with a male person?"

"The first one was pretty good," I said "and I still have some more juice in me. Quit talking and squeeze my prick with your legs." He did so and I had a wonderful time pushing and pulling it and reaching round his hips to tickle the tip of his tool at the same time.

"Remember," I said "no more farting until I've come, or you'll blow me away." At the moment that I came Jon pulled his legs apart and my prick surged forward and shot my seed so hard that it hit the walls of the shower cell.

"Now you're doing it on the wall of my bathroom" said Jon.

"Just like Onan son of Judah," I replied "who spilt it on the ground rather than beget a child for his wicked brother Er." Jon turned round and began to rub his tool against my buttocks. I opened my legs as he had done and we did it again for his benefit, except that his load ended up all over my legs.

All this time, the shower had been running. I turned it off and Jon passed me the only towel.

"Now that we have undergone sexual union," he said "you can share my towel." As I dried myself I asked what time it was.

"About 10-45" he said.

"I'd love a drink" I said."

"You can't go to the boozer now," he said "it would be like visiting a whorehouse on coming out of church. I've got some nice Trappist beer downstairs. Just pass me the towel, I must get dry." He dried his legs and feet and went downstairs and came back with two bottles and two brandy glasses.

"Two bottles of Blue Chimay" he said "pour carefully to avoid disturbing the sediment." He carried on drying himself. I put the glasses on the windowsill and opened the bottles and poured them carefully. "Sniff the bouquet before drinking" he said "that's what the brandy glasses are for. I don't drink brandy, but I don't have a complete set of the right glasses for every Belgian beer I buy."

He put the toilet lid down and sat on it with his glass. I squatted beside him on the bidet holding mine. "Here's to us" I said, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Come on" he said, "a bit more macho, please. You are a basketball player, not a wimp. I don't want you as a sex toy, I want you as a man. I want you for that treasure hanging between your legs."

"Well" I said "you seemed the other day to want to set up as my protector. If I do move in here, I want to pay rent, I don't want to be your kept boy."

"Suits me" he said "I want to keep our relationship secret, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind" I said, "I'm proud to be yours, but I don't necessary want all the basketball team and chapel choir to know it. It's none of their business. We'll do our best to keep it quiet, but sooner or later we'll be found out. It's like a fart that you let quite soundlessly, but eventually the smell reaches people in the vicinity and they know that you have let off." I tasted the beer. It was excellent.