Eleanor Meets Tommy and Martin Pt. 02

Chapter Sixteen

Eleanor's second Candlemas term

The day that I got back to college, I sent an SMS to Martin asking him whether he would like to go to a recital by a highly regarded tenor in Camford town hall the following week. I was a bit shocked by his reply. It was an E-mail and he wrote: "Sweet Eleanor, Tommy and I have had a discussion, and we feel that we need to see what life is like without you. So please don't invite me out this term, and any E-mails must be limited to one per week, except for your reply to this one. And no phone calls, please. That applies to both of us."

I was bitterly disappointed in this reply. I knew that next year Tommy would be working and Martin busy with his Masters work. However, if they missed me, there would be the Pentecost term and the summer for us to resume our dating and without exams, I would have a bit more freedom. In the meantime, I resolved to crack the complex grammar of Greek and generally immerse myself in work. My girlfriends were after all still there to go out with. I went to the recital I just mentioned on my own. It was excellent, and worth the effort of attending alone, although I regretted not having anyone to discuss it with.

As the term went by, I began to miss the boys more and more, particularly on Sunday nights, and I realized how much I had come to rely on them, not just for company, but for sensible discussion on music and other everyday matters. Although I did not feel that I was in love with either of them, I realized that they had become an important part of my student life. The girls on my staircase noticed that I was lacking male company, and I found it difficult to explain what had happened. Then one Sunday evening at the end of February, Tommy suddenly appeared in chapel.

After the service, he did not seem to want to avoid me, so I walked with him to the beer cellar before dinner. He explained that it was half-term in Camfordshire schools, and he had a few days off. He said that although he could not speak for Martin, he himself had missed me. "I wasn't aching for you like I was for Martin, but I really missed your sweet company. I do not find the company of schoolteachers very exciting. They are either juvenile in their mindset or cynical about their jobs."

"And how are you finding teaching?" I asked him.

"I've been lucky so far. There have been no 'sink' schools: indeed some of my placements have been in private schools and sixth-form colleges. After half-term, I'm going to an academy that is basically a revamped sink school, and that will be my test. I'm wondering whether I should have chosen primary-school teaching. I find teenagers quite hard work."

"You'd find them even harder work if they found out that you were gay!" I remarked caustically. "Let me buy you a drink," I said. "I've really missed you and Martin. Going to concerts on my own and no male company at mealtimes is a real wrench. Maybe you can persuade Martin to give up this separation."

I was a bit worried that Tommy seemed to be making rather heavy weather of teaching. I had always had doubts about his vocation to teaching. Of course he had no reason to work for a living, he had a comfortable private income, but earning a living is not the only reason for working. Work is an essential part of all human life, and an enormous source of satisfaction and even enjoyment to most human beings, at least in the western world. Then a thought struck me: maybe he should consider teaching English in Italy, perhaps even to adults. Of course, that would make things difficult for both Martin and me if we wanted relationships with him. I decided not to mention the idea at this stage. Maybe Tommy would think of it himself.

We went into dinner with the choir, who were all glad to see him, albeit only for one night. After dinner, Martin turned up. Although he was glad to see us both, he told us that my 'boycott' would continue until the end of term, even though he admitted to missing going out with me. I wondered how much of the boycott was due to him and how much, or little, to Tommy.

My tutor, Dr Smith, commented that I seemed to be working a lot harder than in the previous term. I told him that I was currently without the distraction of male company. He urged me, as all my friends had done, to find a new man or men, and while he did not in as many words advise me to have sex, it was implicit in the things that he said. Camford tutors seem to think that regular sex is good for academic performance, though they would never admit to advising students to that effect!

The term dragged along, and when the end came, I got an alpha in my Progress Test. I at once rang Martin, who told me that Tommy still had two further weeks of his placement before the school term ended. However, Martin invited me to come for a drink before I went home to Winksey. We arranged to meet at the Lion, the nearest pub to Boni's. I was there first and was just approaching the bar when Martin entered. To my amazement, he came up to me and kissed me. "I'm sorry for the last term, Eleanor. I really missed your company!"

"So why didn't you let me go out with you?" I asked.

"Because I thought that you had your eye on Tommy, and he's mine!"

"I know he's yours, and I've told him that although I do have my eye on him, I won't do anything or let him do anything without your knowledge and consent. Besides, what effect could you and I going out to a film or concert have on Tommy in Italy? I know that you not going to make love to me."

"I was determined not to let you have your own way!"

"I really like you two. It's not just Tommy I'm after, I'm after you as well! Besides, when Tommy gets a teaching job, he'll probably have to leave Camford, and you won't see one another every day. You might appreciate my company then!"

After a pleasant evening, we said goodbye to one another and arranged that I would come to Camford for a day soon after Tommy finished his school placement.

Chapter Seventeen

The Easter vacation

A few days before Easter, I took the train to Camford and walked the short distance from the station to Octavia Avenue. Tommy had now finished his teaching practice, and he and Martin welcomed me with enthusiasm and we walked along the Camwell river towpath to the Carp at Stubbington for lunch. Although the trees were steadily putting out leaves, it was still too cold to eat in the garden. We sat in front of a roaring log fire and drank unchilled beer.

"It's absolutely wonderful to be in the company of intelligent people!" said Tommy. "Martin, you don't know how lucky you are to be intending to spend the rest of your life in the company of such people. Schoolteachers, however good they may be at their jobs, and some I have met are very good, are often small-minded and narrow in their outlook. Take for example what happens to boys who think that they are gay. In the last school I was in, they got very short shrift and little help or support from the teaching staff. Those boys were immensely courageous to put up with the teasing and horseplay that their contemporaries gave them and generally had a rough time. The only time that they got any support was that violence and overt bullying were firmly clamped down on. Gays were allowed to stay at their desks for an extra half hour and seen off the premises by a tough no-nonsense teacher in case they got ambushed. That was in the school that encouraged its gay students to come out. Most of the other schools I was in encouraged their gay boys to stay in the closet."

"I think that is really the best way to deal with the problem at school level. A lot of boys who think that they are gay don't realize that almost all adolescent boys fall in love with one of their friends, but most grow out of it as they get older."

"Yes, but I'm the big exception!" said Tommy. "In spite of all the efforts of Carol, I grew INTO being gay, thanks to you, Martin."

"What do you think, Eleanor? asked Martin. "Have you ever fancied a woman?"

"No, never. But I do fancy both of you two boys! I'll sleep with either or both of you any time!"

I admit that that was a sluttish thing to say. Most girls would have been horrified if they heard a girl say that. But these two boys did not turn a hair, though they did not fail to comment on it!

"But surely you need to be in love to make that sort of comment," said Tommy, "and it doesn't augur well for a long-term relationship if you don't love a man that you sleep with!"

"Can't the two of you see that given the slightest encouragement I could easily fall in love with either of you? But it wouldn't do any good to fall in love with Martin if he can't get it up with a woman!"

Martin said, "I don't believe that falling in love is an act of will. On the contrary, it often happens against people's wishes."

"Look, Eleanor," said Tommy "I don't think that a woman losing her virginity is any big deal nowadays, what with contraceptive pills and readily available condoms, but surely the man you give yourself to for the first time has to be someone whom you respect if not love."

"I respect each of you. I think that for your age, even you, Tommy, are capable and mature. Unlike you two, my career choice prevents any permanent same-sex relationships."

"I have to admit," said Tommy, "that you have logic on your side. I wasn't in love with Carol when we were fucking, but it didn't stop either of us enjoying it! At least, I think she did. It's not easy to get feedback from a woman!"

"Yes, YOU enjoyed it, but a man can get pleasure just from jacking himself off. He has no basic need for a second party involvement!" The pub was quiet that lunchtime, which was just as well, as our conversation was better not heard by third parties!

"Tommy, you'll be back in college next term, and it will be your last residence in college. Are you going to take the opportunity, IF and only if, Martin agrees, to have a go at fucking with me?" More sluttishness on my part!

"I'll think about it," he said.

Martin grinned. "It's OK as far as I am concerned," he said. "Tommy, you know what it's like to want sex. Men can always jack off if they can't fuck, whereas unless women resort to a dildo, there's nothing they can do. This is a bit outrageous, Eleanor, but we have a spare dildo if you'd like to borrow it!"

Tommy said, "Eleanor, I do advise you to take the dildo and play with it. It will get you used to the feeling of a dick inside you. Although I have fucked a woman quite often, I have no idea how she felt. And another point that we have not yet discussed, which might make a lot of this discussion redundant, is that we can begin by you giving me head. That's easy for anyone to learn, because there are only about three rules to remember. Men enjoy it nearly as much as fucking, and women can enjoy it and learn to like the taste of spunk, even if you choose not to swallow it. Mouth before cunt!"

We all then agreed that when the time seemed right, Tommy and I would make love. We had analysed the whole situation almost to death, and it was vital to keep an element of spontaneity in our coupling that precluded discussing when, where and how. However, I did agree to take the pink dildo.

Chapter Eighteen

The boys' final term

I spent Easter at home. My parents had been pleased with my alpha at the end of the Candlemas term, and I was busy preparing for the following term. I also practised with the dildo in the privacy of my bedroom. It was a very good one, the sides had lumps and veins just like a real dick, and I spent as much time with it in my mouth as up my vagina. 'Pity it isn't flavoured, I thought, 'they make flavoured condoms. Why not flavoured dildos? Or [and this I thought was a genius idea] a stick of barley-sugar in the shape and size of a prick? (Strictly for oral use of course!).' I realized of course that a dildo could only substitute for a circumcized tool. So far as I knew, no-one had invented a dildo with a foreskin. One thing though was immediately apparent to me: while it is good for accustoming the body to sexual penetration, it is no substitute for a hot, blood-filled male organ!

After the discussion I described in Chapter Seventeen, I made time during the vacation to read two important novels on male and female homosexuality: E.M. Forster's Maurice and Radclyffe Hall's Well of Loneliness. I enjoyed the Forster much more than the Hall.

Soon I was back in Camford for the Pentecost term. May and June that year were gloriously warm, and trips on the Camwell took me away from quite a few lectures. I tried to programme my river trips with the boys so as to miss my most boring lectures! But river trips were not the way to achieve my objective. Although sex is possible in a punt, and my girlfriends all knew someone who had done it, the sheer discomfort of anything but a quick blow-job made me highly disinclined to try it. My intention was to get Tommy to fuck me first and if I could make him enjoy it, which I knew would mean doing a lot of unladylike things, I would then try it with Martin. If I could enjoy fucking with Tommy, I could probably learn enough to get Martin to manage it.

However, that term, Tommy had his diploma exams and the release to him of the reports on his teaching practice. He was rather anxious about the outcome. I think that, deep down, he doubted his vocation to teaching. The results were released to the Dip.Ed. students very quickly, in order to facilitate them finding jobs. He had done quite well in his exams, and was obviously capable of doing the job, but the general trend of the reports was that he was not really suited to secondary education, and should be looking for teaching jobs in the state primary or independent prep school sector.

Chapter Nineteen

Eleanor's first sexual experience

The picture that I have painted of Tommy does not really do him justice. He was handsome, slim, very attractive, well-mannered, and highly intelligent. But at the same time, he was not easy in the company of people outside the close circle of his family and friends. Some people would say that he had a weak personality. I could see why he was attracted to Martin, who had all the confidence that Tommy lacked. I knew that both his family and Martin worried about his lack of ambition. I could see that he was drifting into schoolteaching because of a lack of ideas about what he wanted to do with his life. His stay in Italy, Martin told me, had vastly increased his self-confidence and sense of direction. I was convinced that he needed a job in which he could exercise his skills in the Italian language. So before the of the term, I determined to take advantage of him still living in college to pop round and talk to him about his future.

So one evening after dinner, I invited myself round to his room in the graduate annex for coffee. He had told me over dinner that he had been offered a teaching job on a one-year probationary contract. The school was a well-known and expensive private prep school in Cleobury, a small town some 40 km from Camford, called the Wyverne School, teaching both boys and girls from seven to thirteen, before they proceeded to a boarding school. The probationary contract struck me as a good idea, as it gave both sides an opportunity to assess his competence, and the age group involved seemed rather less challenging than in a state primary or secondary school. My gut feeling was that he would probably not enjoy it, and it would force him to reassess his career intentions. I was also aware that he would need support during this period, support that Martin would not be able to give him. In other words he needed the support of a loving woman. Martin would not be able to appreciate his difficulties.

It was clear that Tommy was very anxious about his future, and I decided that now was the moment to give his morale a boost. We were sitting on his sofa, so I cuddled up to him, put my left arm round him and began with my right to caress his crotch. He smiled happily, so as soon as I felt his dick beginning to harden, I pulled the zip of his jeans down, revealing his dark red silk underpants. He obligingly lifted his arse so that I could pull his jeans down to his knees, followed rapidly by the silk briefs. In that way his cock was visible, hard as a rock and to my amazement, already oozing precome from the slit. He made no attempt to resist, and I determined to try what I had always fancied, but could not practice with the dildo, which was to nibble his foreskin.

The other thing that was novel was his scent. Because, unlike Martin, he did not use gay fragrances, he smelt mainly of musky male sweat, which if fresh, is very attractive. Clearly, he had showered that morning, because there was no scent of stale urine or spunk. He giggled in delight at my gentle nibbling, and encouraged by his response, I moved down and began to lick his balls. He squealed with pleasure, so I started to lick the sides of his tool, and played with his rolled-back foreskin with my lips before taking the glans into my mouth. I held his dick with my lips round his foreskin while I licked the smooth head. Considering that this was a totally new experience for me, I was amazed at how easy it was to give him pleasure. He gave a few wriggles of satisfaction, but did not attempt to fuck my mouth. I couldn't help thinking that I was journeying where Martin must very frequently have gone before, and it was encouraging that it was clear that Tommy was not reacting disappointingly.

I realized that the dildo had not really helped me when confronted with a hot, throbbing, resilient piece of male anatomy, because it was the wrong consistency and could give no feedback! It might help by stretching the muscles of my vagina or anus, but was no use in pleasuring Tommy. I ran my tongue over the veiny, lumpy stick of male meat and began to chew it gently. The reaction was decidedly positive. Tommy pushed his man-stick harder into my mouth and began to make fucking movements. He got hold of the back of my head and gently but firmly held it as he rammed his cock into my mouth and partially withdrew it, before pushing it in again. I could see that he was sweating with desire: the armpits of his shirtsleeves were drenched with sweat and he was breathing noisily and rapidly.

After a couple of minutes he came with a shout and I got a mouthful of his man-juice. I had researched blow-jobs on the internet and knew that if I were to enjoy giving head, I would have to swallow Tommy's jism. It did not actually taste of very much: just slightly salty. The smell however was not unpleasant. Not being male and not having any brothers, it was not a scent that I recognized, but I knew that the aroma of sweet-chestnut flowers was something that I needed to get used to and enjoy! Having swallowed his load, I licked his limp tool as clean as I could, before taking a tissue out of my handbag to dry him off. He smiled at me gratefully. "Martin doesn't do that!" he said, "he just leaves me to wipe it off with my hanky or else takes me to the shower."

"I wish we were in bed together!" were the next words that he uttered. "Sex is an exhausting business, and I wish that we could just curl up and go to sleep. But I know that college beds are impossible for two to sleep in without one of us falling out." I kissed him with my come-covered lips, so that he could taste his own spunk. He took me in his arms and kissed me numerous times on face and neck.

Many people would consider that I had degraded myself. There is a widely held view that while it is OK for a woman to let herself be fucked by a man, it is somehow dirty to give him head. Nice girls don't do it. This argument is based on the blatantly false view that it is "natural" to poke a penis into a vagina, but to poke it into an anus or a mouth is perverted and dirty. A lot of this childish thinking was exposed to me in my religious psychology lectures, when it was pointed out that the first male humans must have tried (and presumably used) all these bodily orifices with both men and women before they eventually discovered that only one method of penetration of a woman by a man's prick led to pregnancy. This, coupled with primitive society's loathing of spilt body fluids, whether urine, semen or menstrual blood, led to the development among primitive religions of sexual taboos. I was glad that I, destined for the priesthood, did not for one moment think that I had done anything wrong in pleasuring a man for whom I had a great affection. Indeed, I was very pleased that I had made Tommy so happy. I made a mental note to ask discreetly among my girlfriends how many of them had done BJs.