David's Second Year at College

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David comes out.
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[Book I: David's First Year at College should be read first. This is "highbrow" porn with much culture, science, music and religion in its subject matter].

Chapter 16 David

When term began I was immediately plunged into a hectic existence. Although there were no university examinations in the second year, there was a vastly increased amount of laboratory work: with sessions from 5 to 6 hours per day compared with 2 to 3 hours in year 1. Often too, after a day in the lab, we had a lecture at 5 pm. Jon and I would leave the flat at different times, but Jon tended to work till 6 pm on the days that I had a 5 pm lecture and we would then go together to eat, either at a pub or a student restaurant. Evenings were also busy: I had Chapel choir practice on Thursdays and the basketball team had a new captain who expected us to spend Wednesday evening training if we had played in the afternoon, so that we ate together and then went for a drink, so I rarely got back home till 10 pm. Jon and I moved our midweek dinner in Hall to Tuesdays and on Fridays we would go to a film at the Rialto, or if there was nothing interesting being shown, we ate at home and then watched a DVD, often, but not always, a porn DVD. On Saturday mornings we went swimming, and returned to the flat for a snack lunch, after which we spent the afternoon making love. Generally we only had proper sex once a week, but if one or other of us needed it urgently, we would have a quick blow-job on some other day.

There were a few new faces in the Chapel choir and one of the the girls, like me, appeared for the first time in a scholar's surplice. At the time that the college admitted women there was a lot of discussion about what the women choristers should wear. Eventually they decided female scholars would wear a surplice and Canterbury cap, the commoners a gown and Canterbury cap. The choir's reputation was buoyed up by the invitation to tour the Netherlands in the following summer. Barbara was still in the choir and I often felt uncomfortable when I saw her watching me. About halfway through the term, I got a shock when Jon said that he was coming to the chapel to hear me sing. He had never set foot in there in all his four years as an undergraduate, and I think he was impressed by the 17th century furnishings. Choral Evensong according to the Book of Common Prayer with attractive music----we preferred 17th- and 18th-century settings to later church music----touched his musical and emotional sensibilities and he was very complimentary to me (or at least the whole choir) in bed that night.

So the term progressed with much activity and little fucking. But that seemed to enhance the experience when we did make love. And I found our sometimes hasty and occasionally furtive cock-sucking very enjoyable. Jon had a desk in an office shared with the other PhD students and at night he was often alone there and we were able to enjoy a quickie.

Most Sundays I had breakfast in college after chapel at 8 am and spent the day in churchy activities including singing evensong, until I met him on the Hall steps for dinner. He spent the day either on his research or doing the books for his engineering business. Early in November he told me that the time needed for the firm's business was too much, and that he was going to get the man who ran the business as day-to-day manager to hire someone to do it, and he himself would take steps to sell the business to the manager, if necessary in annual instalments, leaving him (Jon) with nothing more than a seat on the board and the director's fee of £2000 a year. He said the work was too much for the salary he had been paying himself. He needed time to concentrate on his other interests.

Chapter 17 David

I wondered how long Jon and I could keep our relationship secret. Although he was careful not to show any overt signs of affection in public, I was not so careful, and occasionally would put my arm around him in public. I reckoned that probably the first group to guess what we were up to would be the people in the Chemical Laboratory, as that was the only place where our circles of colleagues overlapped. As far as the Chapel choir was concerned, in spite of Barbara's rudeness, she could only guess, as she only saw us in Hall, and the rest were too polite to make any comment. As for the basketball team, most of them were too involved in their own affairs to notice, as none of them was a chemist.

Several of my friends in the lab began to notice the time that I spent with Jon, and I noticed them grinning to one another if he came into the teaching lab to talk to me. His commitments were also fairly active, as he demonstrated to the third-year class for one whole day per week. Unlike the other students, he did not need the money, but still felt that it was necessary for his career to do regular teaching. I asked him if any of the research students or postdocs had commented on the fact that we were frequently seen together. He said that he explained it by us being just on good terms as landlord and tenant, which did not to me, sound at all convincing.

I was very relaxed with my college tutor, Dr DC, whom I usually saw once or twice a week for an assignment. He was the senior of the two college chemistry tutors. Dr Y, whom I had had in the previous year only dealt with first year students. Dr C would be the only person with whom I would have regular contact for the rest of my undergraduate study, and I found him very understanding. Tutors are the only persons who hold dual appointments in both university and college, so he also gave lectures in the Department. Obviously in conversation with him I must have mentioned Jon's name several times, because once he realised that I was lodging in Jon's flat, he put two and two together. Camford had very strict rules about how members of the university talked to one another on formal occasions. Faculty Staff, postdocs and research students were allowed to use first names when talking to one another, but in any pedagogic contact such as a tutorial, the rule was that undergraduates were addressed as Mr X and Miss Y, and students in reply had to say Professor, Dr P or Mr Q.

Early in December Dr DC threw a party for all the college chemistry students, of whom there were about 25, spread over all four of the undergraduate years. To emphasise the social nature of the occasion, each student was allowed to bring a guest. Jon did not want to come as my guest, as he said that it would be tantamount to coming out, as everyone there would know him, however slightly. I said that he should come, but should leave early without me, on the excuse that he needed to complete an experiment in the lab. I would then noncommittally field any awkward questions that turned up after he had gone.

It didn't work. The party was held in the college function room and when we turned up together, the knowing looks that many of the other guests exchanged with one another, indicated that not only my tutor, but also most of the others present guessed that we were an item. After an hour or so, I slipped outside and Jon followed me. "Don't go" I said to him "I don't think I could cope with the questions I will be asked if you go. If you stay, no one will say anything" I was relying on the ancient "don't ask, don't tell" policy that had been universal in Camford for centuries. And it worked. The party got slightly noisier, but finished around 10pm, and most people then adjourned to the Lion, a pub near the college, to continue drinking. Jon and I didn't go, thereby almost proving that we didn't want to be asked awkward questions. I had no doubt that the others would be saying that we had gone off to fuck.

When we got home I said to Jon: "This can't go on. Even when I move back into college next year, we will still be seen together. The lads in my year and some of the girls have probably guessed already".

"I can't do anything unless I talk to the prof" said Jon.

"Why?" I asked, "you don't need his or anyone's permission to fuck me. No one in the department is under 18".

You have to remember that this was before the 21st-century of openness and equality, and recognition of homosexual partnerships. I was confident that the abilities that we both had were such that coming out would not damage our futures, moreover I felt that I didn't give a fuck if it did, I wanted Jon to be known publicly as mine, and I knew that his income made a professional academic career for him unnecessary. But I agreed to leave things to the following term.

Chapter 18 David

At the Choir Christmas party where I had had the scene with Barbara the year before, she came up and started chatting to me, the first time that we had talked tête-à-tête since the year before. "You've changed this year" she said, "you're a lot less uptight than you were. I guess that being fucked by your boyfriend is doing you good". I turned bright red. Not only had she guessed that I was in a relationship, she seemed to know that I was the one being fucked. "What do you expect me to say?" I asked "all I'm going to tell you is that yes, I am much happier this year."

"It shows in your singing" she said, "You were really quite good in that aria you sang in September".

"Thank you," I replied with a grin. "What about yourself? I hope you're getting it regularly."

"Not as often as I would like" she said, "because he's not in Camford". Curiously I did not feel resentful or upset that she had sized me up.

"Can I get you another drink?" I asked her.

At the next tutorial my tutor, Dr DC asked me if I was in a relationship with anyone. "Do you ask all your students that?" I asked "or only me? Is there something wrong with my academic performance?"

"Oh, no", he said.

"Well then, don't ask, because I won't tell" I replied. This of course effectively meant yes, but I could easily deny that I had an acknowledged to him that I was being shagged. However, he did not leave it at that.

"Let me put it another way then", he said. "Are you in a sexual relationship with Jonathan Singleton?"

What could I say, but "Yes"?

"We have then a potential conflict of interest" said Dr DC. "Research students have a minor role in undergraduate assessment, and any personal relationships might thus lead to an instructor or demonstrator attempting to influence the outcome of the assessment process. In other words Jon might attempt to influence your grades. Clearly this is a very far-fetched scenario, because the input of laboratory demonstrators is pretty minute. But some of the other undergraduates in your year might not see it that way. We are moving into an era when there is an increasing tendency to question our assessment methods and we have to be seen to be squeaky clean. I am going to talk to Jon's PhD supervisor about this. What a pity that he is not shagging a music or classics student! I ought not to have said that, but you can see the difference. Neither you nor he must regard this as a punishment of some kind. You have fallen in love and you have to live with the consequences. Would you both like to pop in here tomorrow night about 7 pm and have a drink, just to show that there are no hard feelings?"

"Yes, so far as I know," I said. "I hope Jon does not have a prior engagement."

"Phone if there are any problems" he said.

When I got home, Jon was cooking risotto. "Have you seen your supervisor?" I asked.

"Yes" he said "I've been banned from laboratory teaching/demonstrating for four years. I'm fed up about it, but I can understand the reason. Dr ES told me that my big mistake was to invite you to live with me. If we had just been casually fucking and you had lived in college, there would have been no problem, but because we want a long-term relationship, there is the risk that impartiality would fly out of the window. It could have been worse. They could have told you to move out, or even suggested that you change your field of study. It's not anti-gay, because they would have done the same if I had been living with a female chemistry undergraduate. Now you know why I wanted to keep our relationship secret. I'm pissed off, because I need teaching experience. On the other hand, I don't need the money, so in a way it's good that the demonstrating should go to some poor sod who needs the cash. This is just about ready. Go and get a bottle of Italian red out of the cupboard."

"Well", I said, "I suppose that now everyone in the lab knows about our relationship, we can come out. I am certainly going to tell the lads in my year, at least the ones in St Boniface's. The others will hear fast enough. By the way, clear your engagements if you have any for 7 pm tomorrow. Dr C has invited the two of us for a drink in his rooms."

Precisely at 7 pm the next day, the two of us were knocking on my tutor's door. "Come in, lads" he called. We went in and Dr C was sitting there with a welcoming smile on his face.

"What will you have to drink?" he asked, "sherry, Marsala or Worthington White Shield?" Jon opted for the beer, I asked for Marsala.

"This is strictly a social occasion" said C. However, I can tell you on behalf of the Chemical Laboratory as well as the college that we are sorry to have had to adopt a course that may have inconvenienced you, Jon. But we are anxious to avoid even the slightest possible implication that the university's assessment methods can be influenced by personal feelings. Neither of you is being penalized because you are gay, or because you are living together or because you want a long-term relationship. The college cannot and would never apply disciplinary rules from an earlier era. What a pity you are both chemists. Mind you, speaking personally, I am extremely glad that you are, because you both have such potential talent that I am glad that you have been or are still students of mine. If we had more people like you two, Camford would lead the land in academic talent.

"Jon, please tell me how you feel."

"I can't possibly blame anyone for the situation except myself", Jon said. "My love for this boy is so great that I don't give a fuck for the loss of a bit of teaching experience if I can have him. And even if my future career were affected, such a treasure as him is worth more than any academic job."

"David (I know that I should call you Mr Scarborough, but this is not a formal pedagogic situation), how do you feel?"

I blushed. "I would welcome the opportunity to shout to the dreaming spires of this town how much I am in love with this guy" I said, and to the embarrassment of both of them I advanced towards Jon with outstretched arms. He stuck out both his arms and grabbed me hard by the shoulders.

"Don't let yourself get carried away, David," he said. "I apologise, Dan, for this guy's indiscreet behaviour. David, calm down please."

"Let's have another drink, then" said DC, pouring them out.

"Oh, and Mr Scarborough" he said "I shall know in an instant if he gives you any help with your assignments."

"He won't," I said. "I don't need his help for those!"

The short Camford term (eight weeks) soon came to an end. I invited Jon to come home with me for Christmas. He said that he would, but that he would have to leave on 28 December to spend New Year with his mother, and he arranged to fly to Nice from Manchester. To avoid the pre-Christmas rush, we arranged to travel home by train on 20 December.

Chapter 19 Jon

During the Martinmas term, David and I basically only saw each other at breakfast or dinner and in bed. The firm's business was proving burdensome. Here was I being paid £10K per annum for one day and two evenings work per week. The firm was not getting value for money and I could ill spare the time. I wanted to progress the planning application for Arthur Rockwell's barn and see how the tree-planting was getting on. So I decided to offer the business to its current manager, Edward Biggs, who had served my father faithfully and was fully committed to the future of the business. I called Tim Ingledown to make arrangements to sell the firm to Edward for a series of annual payments. Once the transfer had been completed, I would become a consultant with a salary of £2K per annum and a seat on the board.

We were both too busy and too tired at night to do much fucking, but we would suck each other off a couple of times a week. But I insisted that we had Saturdays completely free and that we spend it together. On the Saturday of the first week of term, we went for a swim at the COP (Camford Olympic Pool), and then cycled home, where we shared a pizza for lunch. After a cup of coffee we adjourned to the bedroom, undressed one another and got into bed. We kissed one another passionately for a few minutes and I then began to run my lips down David's back.

"You smell of chlorine in spite of the shower" I said. "But is not unpleasant, just not your usual personal scent. David said nothing in reply, just kissed me. I have now reached the small of his back and my mouth was approaching his crack. I rolled him onto his side so that I could prise the cheeks apart with my mouth and push my tongue inside. He moved to widen the crack and I began to rim him gently. His blond anal hair felt tickly against my lips. He gurgled with pleasure, and my heart melted at the sound. "Oh my darling fag boy, I love you so much." I said, before resuming work with my tongue.

"Jon, you are so sweet to me," he said, and moved into a foetal position. I ran my lips over his right arse-cheek before turning him onto his back. I grabbed his legs and put them over my shoulders, before squeezing lube into his perineum and crack. I lubed my fingers and pushed them into his hole to stretch and relax him. He opened a condom wrapper and rolled it onto my prick, which of course was rock hard. I lubed it and gazed into his smiling blue eyes. He looked so delicious that my mouth almost began to water as I entered him rather more roughly than usual, but his relaxed attitude and the lube ensured a small smooth passage of my dick into his gut. He smiled as I began to thrust, and I fondled his tool with my left hand until it was stiff and slippery. He was now completely relaxed about anal sex and was beginning to enjoy being fucked. I deliberately went as slowly as I could and he responded by squeezing my dick when it was at its deepest, before allowing me to pull back slightly. I kissed the blonde hair on his chest and quickened my ramming, and after a matter of a couple more minutes I came into the rubber, shouting "My beautiful boy" as I did so. I detached his legs from behind my head and gently pulled out of his hole. I then lay on top of him and began to rub my belly hard against his dick. He responded by pushing his body upwards and I could feel the rippling warmth of his hairy belly against me, my arms were round his shoulders and he gasped "I'm gonna come" and squirted three shots of creamy seed against my belly and over our two chests.

He grabbed a tissue from the bed table and wiped as much slimy come off us as he could and dropped the tissue onto the floor, while I slid the condom off my prick and carefully tied it up before dropping it beside the tissue onto the floor. Shagged out and breathless, I lay beside him, my left hand across his chest.

What I enjoyed about our Saturday lovemaking was that it was not just shag and sleep, blow and zip-up. We would lie together and not just mutter endearments and cuddle, but talk and discuss. Today David asked, "Why do you wear those strange g-strings? Are they more comfortable than conventional briefs? They do make you look sexy. Your delicious arse is shown off to great advantage when it's not covered by underpants".

"Actually," I said, "they are not particularly comfortable and they are very unhygienic. I'm not really keen on them. But they were a present when I left school from my fellow sixthformers. They presented me with a dozen pairs, because they said the backless structure facilitated the passenger of wind from my arsehole. I was always farting at school, and I had a reputation as the school's champion farter. The idea was that I would remember them whenever I let off!"