David's First Year at College

I was very chary about any overt signs of affection for David. I had a lot of reputation to lose if it became generally known that I was sleeping with an undergraduate from St Boniface's, and he had not, it seemed, made any decisions about sex, with me or anyone else. Also I had not invited him back to my flat, although there was no earthly reason why not, it was just as convenient place to drink coffee as his college room or the JCR.

Towards the end of term I did invite him to my flat. We had been to a performance of 'Cosi fan Tutte' at the Camford Opera House (a commercial theatre that had four weeks of opera per year), and I invited him back to drink coffee afterwards. I was careful to sit in a separate chair as we talked a lot about sexuality in the context of 'Cosi fan Tutte'. However in all our meetings I did try and look him in the eyes as much as possible. I am not the kind of person who habitually does that, but Jon had such a dear and expressive face that I could scarcely help but gaze on it whenever I got the opportunity. We both turned out to hate the basic cynical thesis on which CFT is based, that sexual infidelity is inevitable and normal, and we agreed that lifetime fidelity between partners is an achievable norm, even if occasional lapses by either partner might occur. The key to such difficulties is always forgiveness based on love. I showed David the flat, on which I had purchased a 25-year lease from Z college. It was on first and second floors, reached by a staircase from a private doorway at street level. The ground- and adjacent first-floor property was occupied by a college scout and his wife, who came in once a week to clean for me and kept an eye on the place when I was away. They were friendly homely people who didn't mind who came visiting me or when they left. The only restriction that I occasionally found irksome---though it meant that I didn't need to worry when I had visitors---was that I could not keep any overtly male erotica in the bedroom or bathroom, except for one very beautiful reproduction Greek male nude statuette. You might be puzzled by this obsession with secrecy but you have to realize that the period towards the end of the last quarter of the 20th-century was one in which homosexuality was only gradually beginning to be accepted. This is a legacy of the Victorians, because Camford University is an 800-year-old institution that for most of its existence had been 100% male and obviously always had been a hotbed of covert sexuality, both straight and gay, but especially the latter. The "Don't ask, don't tell" policy had flourished for most of that time, and was only weakened late in the nineteenth century when college fellows began to be allowed to keep their jobs after getting married.

The flat had a small kitchen/diner, a good-sized lounge with balcony (yes in Camford!) and a small study on the first floor and a fairly large bathroom with WC, bidet, bath and separate shower and two bedrooms, one with a small en-suite toilet, shower and washbasin, on the top floor. The large bedroom had a king-size bed and a bay window over the lounge balcony, the small bedroom had a single bed and no window, but a large roof-light. I told him that I was buying the flat on the mortgage paid out of my director's salary from the firm. This is quite true, but I did not tell him that I only had a mortgage as a tax-saving device. I could have bought the flat outright, had I so chosen. I explained that I worked at home in the study on the computer on the two days per week that I was not in the lab, and explained that the computer was connected to the University network (I did not say that I had paid for this, along with a fax machine that I also used to exchange data with the lab and the business in London). I noticed that David noticed the Greek statuette in the bathroom. Perhaps he thought was a wank-object, which it was not. I just liked it as a thing of beauty.

Chapter 7 Jon

David invited me to spend Easter with his family. It was a wonderful experience. I nearly fell in love with his mother, a very attractive Dutchwoman in her early 40s. I could see where David's liveliness and perceptiveness had come from. His father was much more typically English, intelligent and pleasant but somewhat stolid. David's sister seemed to be more like her father and the little boy Jeroen was perhaps like him also. While they were all out at church on Easter Day, and I was still in bed, tossing myself off, I suddenly realized why I had found David's mother so attractive. She reminded me of him. Only then did I realize that I was for the first time in my life deeply in love. It was a terrible wrench to go back to Camford, but I had urgent things to do in the lab, and I had to check the current position of the firm and make some important decisions about cash flow.

By the time term began I was desperate to see him again, but I was in a dilemma. I was totally uncertain about how he would respond if I declared my love or made unspoken but obvious sexual overtures. He was a nice person, he would not react in a hostile way, but his religion forbad unnatural vice. If he were really a born-again type, anything I said about love would bring about an end to our friendship. And for me that would be a disaster. I needed to see him every day, I ached to enfold him in my arms, to strip him naked and kiss his tool... But I could put up with mere friendship rather than never see him again. From what I had heard at his home, he had no serious girlfriends at home or in Camford. But that did not mean that he preferred men to women...

We went for a walk in Jesserod Meadow, and I tried to get him thinking about his sexuality, by implying that he would have an uncomfortable life if he did not get a "regular" relationship in college. I suggested a girl, but implied that may be a man might do. Would his religion inhibit him, even if he felt attracted to me? When I pressed him, he admitted that he was a virgin.

A few days later, on Wednesday, May 12, 19--, we ate together in college before setting off to walk to Stubbington. A mile or so along the Camwell towpath, David took hold of my hand. It is still generally accepted that men never hold one another's hands (though they may shake hands) unless there is a sexual significance. I stopped dead. He told me that he loved me--- without catching my eye. I looked him full in the face, full of admiration for the courage that I had lacked and told him that I was overjoyed. I then dragged him behind a hedge and we embraced passionately until I could feel my underpants damp with lust and my prick like a ramrod. As we pulled apart, I could see his crotch had a huge bulge in it also. We went back to my place, but I have no recollection of the walk. We went in and at his suggestion began to undress one another. Once I had removed his underpants, I nearly collapsed with lust when I saw his tool. It was about 25 cm long and obviously ready to go. I insisted on putting a towel on my bed to prevent it getting into a mess, and then I let him get on top of me and suggested how we might try and synchronize our orgasms. His prick was between my legs, mine was pressed up against his belly. I grasped his two buttocks with each of my two hands, and we started to wriggle up and down, his arse going regularly into the air. He was very good and this is typical of his nature--he realized that he was going too fast for me-- my prick being circumcized is less sensitive than his--and he consciously slowed down. He came first and I could feel his hot seed jetting and dripping between my tightly closed legs. He gave a shout as he came and then breathlessly kissed me and lowering his right hand and inserting it between our bellies, he tickled my tool until I also came a matter of seconds later, squirting my come all over his chest and belly.

David was obviously deliriously happy at the outcome of our first lovemaking session. In the course of the next few days he became increasingly more active in his physical attentions. He had clearly taken to heart my cruel and unjustified comment about him being undersexed. His kissing got more and more passionate, and he increasingly took the initiative in making sexual overtures, rubbing my arse with his hands, clutching my crotch when he kissed me, and similar activities which struck me as surprising for a new ex-virgin. However it is clear that, like me, he had powerful feelings, which had been suppressed for a long time. We sucked each other off regularly, and I got quite addicted to the taste of semen. He seemed very keen on 69, and we got quite good at timing our orgasms. During his exams we made love every night and without any initiative from me he actually tried rimming me. It was the best sexual experience he had ever given me. The feeling as he nibbled my arse-crack sent me nearly delirious and the way that he stroked my dick and tickled my balls made me come more violently than ever before. I also enjoyed his crude way of talking about our intimacy. It surprised me that someone who had not, as I had, gone to a boys-only school should enjoy dirty talk, especially considering his Christian beliefs and upbringing. I thought that we were not yet ready for penetrative sex and I was very happy with 69.

David was due to go to Holland towards the end of July (by then he had moved into my flat in Fountain Street, and into my bed), and he raised the topic of going all the way or "fucking up the farthole" as he crudely put it. I confessed to being uneasy about being penetrated by his gigantic tool. To my surprise he said that he would not mind being fucked by me, that he really fancied my rather average 15 cm dick in his hole. We agreed to try it in the short time that he would have in Camford before the beginning of the next term. By now both of us were doing it so frequently that our come-shots were increasingly smaller in volume and much less messy to clean up.

He left Camford towards the end of July by train for the North, as he was going to Holland by boat from Hull. I put my arms round him on the station platform and gave him a quick and unobtrusive kiss before he got on the train. I had tried to persuade him to go via London and the Eurostar train, but he said that he had to see his parents, though he was not yet ready to come out to them. He promised to phone me once he had arrived in the Netherlands.

Chapter 8 David

I had a pleasant couple of days with the family, who were pleased with my exam success. My father ran me to the ferry in his car with my suitcase and backpack. I kissed him goodbye and got on the boat. Jon had paid a 50% supplement for me to have a twin-berth cabin to myself on the overnight trip, as it was the peak Dutch holiday period and I would otherwise have had to share. Jon said that he didn't want his boy to share a cabin with an unknown male--just another example of his needless protectiveness. A bus took me from Europoort to the train, and I was at my uncle's in Amersfoort by early afternoon.

As I was over 18 I was allowed for the first time to serve behind the bar. It was a busy bar and I changed shifts each week, working one week 10 till 6 and the next week 6 till midnight. The bar did not open on Sundays, and as it was a hot summer, after service at the Old Catholic church I spent the rest of the day at the open air swimming pool, where food and drink were available and I got quite a suntan. My responsibility was the backroom bar, which had a very varied clientele, including a group of gays who kept admiring my suntan (at least that's what they said. They may have been admiring the bulge in my tight black waiter's trousers).

Jon rang me almost every day punctually at 8 pm, and I was always released promptly from my job for a ten-minute chat. It was usually my aunt who answered the phone, and she quickly got to recognize Jon's voice. After a while, I think she began to suspect that Jon was more than just a friend, and while I did not volunteer any details, I am sure that from my embarrassment she had a good idea that we were an item.

Dutch food and beer suited me, and as I was on my feet all day, I actually lost a little weight without feeling any less fit. I had three assignments to write over the summer, but I had enough books with me to manage. (This was before the days of the Internet). Some were numerical problems that only needed paper and a calculator. First year tutors were not burdensome over their students' summer assignments.

The summer passed quickly. I was so tired when I went to bed that I did not need to wank very frequently. I missed Jon a lot, but more for his company and conversation than for the sex. I returned to England by train (Eurostar from Brussels: the high-speed rail link to Amsterdam had not then even been begun) and got to Camford in mid-September as term began in October. I had to go back to Camford, because the College Chapel choir (including three third-year members who had actually left with degrees) had a one-off concert in the University Aula of music by Handel and we needed three rehearsals in the week before the concert. In addition to these I arranged with Jon to practise my solo item in the afternoons in Jon's rather isolated flat, where no-one would be disturbed.

Chapter 9 Jon

After David left Camford, I had a lot to do. In spite of the usual work, I needed time to do other things. I took three weeks holiday from the lab, and told the manager of the firm to manage without his weekly cash flow analysis and went off into the countryside.

After I graduated I took a six-month break before starting my Ph.D., and during that time I worked with Tim Ingledown, a young man from the firm that had essentially advised my father and helped him very successfully with his property portfolio and investments. Tim and I set up two trusts, one to promote afforestation, the other for the maintenance and repair of dry-stone walls. I had always been keen on country life, and I thought that I had identified two areas where the English landscape urgently needed improvement that landowners could not afford to do for themselves. I gave a million pounds each to the two trusts, the money to be invested in high-yielding bonds until trustees had been appointed and work could begin. The trusts would be registered charities.

I had hired a motor caravan and some 70 miles from Camford I found a farm. As I drove up to the farm in the motor caravan the countryside was ravishingly beautiful: the weather was extremely warm and sunny. I knocked on the farmhouse door. It was lunchtime, and the man of the house was in, eating lunch. I asked if I could park my motor caravan in the adjacent paddock, which was not being grazed, for three days and I offer £20 a day in rent. I promised that I would leave no rubbish and create no disturbance and he agreed. We got chatting. He and his wife seemed very friendly and they invited me to eat supper with them that evening. I agreed and went off on my bike (that was attached to the rear of my motor caravan). I explored the countryside round the farm. The farm was near Ixton, a village in an unspoiled area. Ixton was about 8 km from the nearest railway station which had four trains a day that stopped in Camford. The farm was fairly large, an old-fashioned mixture of arable farming with a small herd of sheep. It was clear that the quality of some of the land was poor. The road nearest to the farm curved round a bend at its nearest distance and inside the bend was a barn belonging to the farm. The road was a good 10 feet below the level of the field in which the barn was situated, and the bank supporting the field was reinforced by a 10-foot-high stone wall. The barn was very big, with a very high, sound roof and a peep inside showed me that it was disused.

That evening I chatted with the farmer, his wife and their son, who was at Agricultural College, but at present was home on vacation. I asked if he made a comfortable living from the farm or not. He said that the combination of low acreage and poor soil in some fields made it difficult. I said that I might be able to offer him a solution to his viability problems, but would need to talk to a few people first. He asked me what my name was and where I lived, because he naturally wanted some kind of assurance that he was not going to be approached by swindlers or racketeers. We drank some home-made wine and had a very enjoyable evening.

The next day I got in touch with Tim Ingledown, who said he knew a consultant on afforestation and land use. Later in the day I rang him again and he said that he and the consultant would come down the following day.

In the end a proposal was put to the farmer, whose name was Arthur Rockwell. He owned his land freehold, so he was in a position to negotiate. The proposal we put to him was twofold: (a) an offer by me to buy the barn as it stood, without planning permission, at a price that assumed that it had planning permission to convert it into a dwelling house, where I would live. There would be a clause that the farm would remain in my family and not be sold. In any event, Arthur's family was to have first option to buy it in the event of it ever coming on the market. (b) The other proposal was for the afforestation trust to take a long (200-year) lease on his least economic land. It would then be turned into woodland and the trust would pay him an enhanced rent for the land, a rent set at 10% higher than the maximum farming income that he could obtain from the land. In return, he would do all the necessary forestry and maintenance work for a commercial rate. He was very interested and said he would consult his lawyer, with a view to going ahead.

I left, rather pleased at what I had achieved in a few days. The land was on a steeply sloping hill, only suitable for grazing sheep, and came to some 20 hectares. It could be planted with deciduous or mixed trees, not exclusively conifers. I went back to Camford glad that my country pursuits were set in motion and glad that I no longer had to walk each day at 8 pm to the public phone box in Ixton to ring David. By the beginning of September, the deal with the farmer was agreed and tree planting would begin as soon as Arthur and his son had gone on the necessary forestry training course, which the trust was prepared to pay for.

By now I was missing David severely, and looking forward desperately but with a little apprehension to his arrival. In anticipation of his welcome I bought condoms and KY Jelly and through a friend in the pharmaceutical industry, I got a few experimental blue pills of a new drug, not yet on the market, that later would be known as Viagra. The reason for the blue pills was in case there were problems with our first fuck. If anal penetration gave him pain, and I had to pull out, I would lose my erection, and knowing myself, I thought that I was not likely to get it back quickly, and we might never succeed in consummating our union. Obviously that might not happen, but I needed to be sure of staying stiff at the right moment. I had to try a pill of course to find out how long it would take to produce its effect and how long the priapism would last. I cut my finger nails very short and even bought a nail-file to file them down so that they were smooth and short, as under no circumstances did I wish to damage the interior of David's rectal passage.

Chapter 10 Jon

I met David at Camford station when he got back, having left him to get himself between stations in London. We took a taxi back to Fountain Street. We put our arms around each other's waists as we sat in the back seat of the cab, and I carried his case up the steps of the flat.

The minute that we got the door shut, we fell into each other's arms and feverishly began kissing. I asked David if he wanted a shower or whether we should make love first and shower afterwards.