David's Second Year at College

After the evening meal we went along to the performance of the 'Messiah,' taking Jeroen with us. We were doubtful as to whether he would be able to stay awake for a three-hour performance, but he was very keen to come and hear the singing. It was a good performance, the local amateur orchestra performed very well, and most of the guest singers were of reasonably high quality, except for the tenor, who was really rather disappointing. Immediately after the tenor's two opening arias I whispered to David "You could have done those a lot better than he did" and squeezed his hand. He grinned at me happily and remained holding my hand for the remainder of the performance. Jeroen was yawning by the time we got into part three of the oratorio but he managed to stay half awake until the performance finished and we all went home, having enjoyed a very appropriate event in the lead-up to Christmas.

After all this, the Christmas festivities were almost an anti-climax. David, David's sister Dorothea and David's father went to the midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, then his father and mother took Jeroen to church on Christmas morning. We opened our presents when they got back and had Christmas lunch/dinner. David and I after lunch went for a short walk, which enabled both of us to fart out a good deal of the gas that had accumulated in our guts, to our great relief and without offending anyone. The evening was spent drinking sherry and watching television.

On Boxing Day we all went a long walk to a country pub, returned to a late lunch/dinner of cold turkey and salad and again watched television in the evening. On the Sunday the family went to church, and I packed my bag. We went for a farewell drink in the evening. Although the Monday was a bank holiday, I had a ticket for one of the few trains running, which got me to Manchester airport in decent time to check in for my flight to Nice. One of the advantages of my financial situation was that I did not have to worry about cheap flights. I told David that I wanted to tell my mother about our new relationship and that if she wanted to see him, we might be able to go there at Easter. So I left David and knew that it would be mid-January before the Candlemas term began and he would be back in Camford and in my bed.

Chapter 23 David

My parents put Jon through a terrible ordeal in the two days before Christmas, and I was delighted when he met their complete approval after a barrage of questions and warnings. This made the festive season particularly pleasant for me. We all exchanged presents. Jon had bought me a beautiful miniature crucifix surrounded by a ring---a sort of Celtic cross with a figure of our Lord on it---on an elastic chain that fitted comfortably round my neck. It was about three centimetres in diameter in 18-carat gold and was designed to be worn all the time----in bed, playing basketball and in the swimming pool, so I can never forget my Saviour. This of course is not how Jon thought of it: he merely conceived of it as an attractive decoration for his boy. It was very comfortable and I loved it. I bought him a set of six pairs of silk briefs in a presentation box, all in different cheerful colours, a replacement for his well worn but unhygienic g-strings. "If you like that," I told him "I'll get you some more. Silk is good to wear next to the skin."

Boxing Day was very enjoyable and before I knew it, the 28th had arrived and Jon left on a train to Manchester airport. I felt lonely and miserable after he had gone. I did a bit of reading on synthetic uses of Grignard reagents, because we would be trying some of those in the lab the following term. I also used my father's computer to print out some photos I'd taken earlier in the term of Jon and myself. Digital cameras were very expensive in those days and Jon had lent me his to take a few photographs. I had brought the pictures home on a series of floppy disks and they and Dad's computer and printer could be used to print them out. One of the photos showed Jon naked, and I put that in a drawer beside my bed and from time to time I used to gaze on it and wank myself off.

Chapter 24 David

I went back to Camford three days before the Candlemas term began. Jon met me at the station and took me to the flat, before returning to his lab. When term began I had arranged for my "coming out". It was very low-key. I went round in the first lab class of the term and gave cards to all the St Boniface second-year students and a few from other colleges. The card read "If you have time, please call in for a drink with me after the lecture on Thursday. I have booked the back bar of the Sparrowhawk from 6 to 6:45 pm. You can get back to college in time for dinner."

I arranged with the landlord to put a notice on the door of the back bar saying "Private Party". I went to an ATM and took out enough money, having arranged to start a tab expiring at 6-45 pm. I had to miss the lecture to be at the pub ready, and as the students started to trickle in after the lecture, I gave each one a chitty for one drink at the bar.

When Jon came in at 6-15 everyone was there and I made a small speech. I said: "Thank you all for coming. This drink is to celebrate something that you probably already know about, namely that Jon Singleton (and I bowed to him) and myself are an item. I would like especially to say thank you to Tom and Steve, who set us an example in the summer of coming out that has taken us six or seven months to follow."

I sat down and began to drink my beer. Jon sat next to me. Tom and Steve were the first to come and shake hands.

Tom said, "We must go out for a drink as a foursome. How about tomorrow?" A few people there pulled faces or winked when they saw Jon and me together, but as I was buying the drinks, they could not say anything rude! I looked at Jon and he nodded about the invitation so we said yes we would join Tom and Steve for drink in the Lion the following night after dinner in Hall.

I felt very apprehensive for the next couple of weeks whenever I was at choir practice or playing basketball. At the choir practice the week after my coming out, Barbara came up to me and said, "Well, well! I hear you've come out!"

"Yes," I said "I put my cards on the table and I'm clearly marked out now as a gay boy."

"I think that is very brave of you," she said.

"I prefer to think of it as being honest," I replied.

"Will your boyfriend come and hear you sing like he did last term?" She asked.

"Only on special occasions. He's an agnostic." I answered.

At basketball nobody said anything, but I noticed a few significant nods and winks when people thought that I wasn't looking. However, my performance in the game that term improved significantly and this led towards the end of term to a few guffaws and remarks about how being fucked seemed to have improved my playing performance. Even when the lads had a few beers inside them, they still treated me very good-naturedly. I think a lot of this tolerance and good humour was traditional because of the high intellectual level of life in England's oldest university and the "don't ask, don't tell" mentality which emphasizes camaraderie in a society which inevitably has a higher-than-average percentage of homosexuals.

My relationship with my tutor seemed unaffected by my embarrassing emotional outburst of the previous term, and my assignments seemed to go OK. When the Progress Test took place in the last week of term, I performed satisfactorily.

The rest of the term passed and eventually I had to decide whether I was going to go home immediately after the end of term or whether I should stay in Camford and do some reading before Easter. Jon had said that his mother had expressed a desire to meet me, which had surprised him considerably, and he asked if he should make arrangements for us to pay a short visit to Nice during the Easter period. Of course I said yes, not out of a burning desire to meet his mother, but out of curiosity to see where she lived and to visit a part of Europe where I had never been.

I was becoming a little worried that I seemed to be assuming an increasingly submissive role. I tended to let Jon decide the films we saw and I let him make the arrangements for the trip to France, when actually during vacations, he was busier than me. I insisted that we had a rota for dealing with the garbage and the laundry, otherwise I feared that either he would do it all himself and leave me with a "Curlilocks" role ('sit on a cushion... and feed upon strawberries, sugar and cream') or else subordinate me to doing all the household chores. I was very surprised that almost everyone who had commented on my gayness had assumed that I was the one being fucked, when in fact that was merely an arrangement that we had both agreed to the previous year because of Jon's fear of being damaged by my big dick. Maybe the viewpoint of strangers was due to my long blond wavy hair, whereas Jon's crew-cut looked more macho.

Because Jon seemed to be frightened that an "Engineer's wheel" scenario ('she was split from arse to tit') would occur if my prick were to penetrate him, when he was not around, I tried on one of the condoms that I had bought in Amersfoort the year before. They proved to be significantly bigger and more comfortable than the ones that regularly entered my bowels. I felt sure that if we used enough lube and I took it very slowly, I could get inside him without damage, even if there were some pain. But my confidence in him and my love for him were such that I was sure that he would listen considerately to any suggestion of us changing our roles. After all, having tried both, we might find that one role suited us best, or arrange to take turns. And we both enjoyed 69, which we were becoming experts at. Admittedly, I had rather desperately indicated at Christmas how much I wanted him to fuck me, but I think the alcohol we had imbibed had made me more visceral and less cerebral than usual.

So one Saturday towards the end of term, when we were back from our morning swim and we had put the washing into the machine and left it to run, Jon said to me: "Do you want some lunch now, or shall we go to bed?"

"Bed" I said, "let's get undressed and then I want to talk to you." We adjourned to the bedroom and took our clothes off, turned back the sheets on the as yet unmade bed, and got into it.

"Jon," I said "I would love to have a go at fucking you. I know that you are worried about the size of my tool, but I really think that with a lot of lube and much care on my part I could do it. I would certainly like to have a try. What do you think?"

"My darling David" he said "I will do anything to make you happy."

I wrapped my arms round him (we were sitting up) and kissed him hard on the lips. I slipped my hand down under the bedclothes and felt our tools, which were both rockhard. I climbed on top of him and continued kissing him and moved my lips down his chin, his neck and his chest. When I reached his bellybutton I stopped and nibbled it. I followed his treasure trail down and nuzzled him in his thick dark pubic bush beside his hard member and reached for the bedside drawer and opened the packet of Dutch condoms. I slipped one onto my dick and took out the lube. "We're going to need a lot of this so that I can get you really easy to enter" I said. Jon spread his legs obligingly.

"Actually," I said "I want to do it in the doggie position, but lying as you are it's easier to put the lube on."

I grabbed the towel out of the drawer (we always kept a towel and tissues there in the drawer in case they were needed), and pushed the towel underneath his arse. I started to apply the lube to his perineum, and easing his legs further apart so that his anus was exposed, I was able to apply a thick dollop of lube to his hole and then checking that my fingernails were short, I started to push a small quantity of lube into his hole with one finger. I wiggled the finger around and spread the lube as much as I could. I then put some lube on my middle finger and introduced two fingers into him and again spread it around, stretching them slightly to ease his sphincter and I then did it again with my third finger and by then I had stretched him sufficiently for him to feel that it was not going be agony when I actually got inside. I then lifted his legs over the side of the bed and he stood up. He turned round and bent over against the bed. I hopped out of bed, spread yet more lube on to the rubber on my man-pole and gently pushed it between the cheeks of his arse. He bent forward as much as he could and I gently eased it, pushing hard initially until I could feel his ring relax slightly and the tip of my prick just managed to get within him. "How are you feeling" I asked "does it hurt?"

"Just a bit" he said. "Just carry on and we'll see what happens."

I continued to push gently until I was perhaps 5 cm inside him. He was gasping a little and I could feel a certain tenseness in the surrounding muscles.

"Just relax," I said. I pulled out by a couple of centimetres just to make sure the lubricant was working and when I could feel that it was running smoothly, I continued to push again. Because I am rather ignorant of the internal anatomy of the gut and because my prick is rather a big one I was not quite sure how far I could go without hurting him or doing him some kind of injury, but I reckoned that if I went at least as deep as the length of the condom, even though my pubic hair would still not have reached his hole, it might well be deep enough for a first attempt. So I pushed gently and got to that point. "How is it now?" I asked.

"Okay" he said. So I started slowly but gently to move my dick to and fro in his sphincter, the tip going quite deeply at its deepest point and never completely emerging as I withdrew. Because of the relatively slow speed it took quite some time for things to happen. I began to speed up after a few minutes when it became apparent that he was not suffering any pain, and it was clear that it would not be long before I was ready to shoot. A couple more minutes of gentle fucking and I could feel my loins tensing and I knew that it was about to happen. Suddenly with a gasp and a yelp I explosively came and I could feel my hot come jetting out into the condom. I wrapped my arms more tightly around his belly and kissed his back numerous times. I had actually been quite close to him during the whole of the time and was not standing up. My chest was pushed up against his back and my belly against his arse-cheeks. I pulled myself even tighter towards him as I kissed him and said to him "Was that okay? My own Jon, I love you so much."

I could feel my dick slowly softening and I gently and slowly withdrew it from his hole. He stood up with his legs over the side of the bed and fell face down. I walked round to the other side of the bed and climbed up and lay on my back beside him. "How was it for you?" I asked in the age-old words.

"In the other age-old words" he said "I think that you are indeed a randy bugger."

"Jon" I said "I did really enjoy that. Would you like me to suck you?"

"Yes, baby" he said "suck my dick!"

"You can't call me baby" I said "I've just taken your anal virginity! Call me randy stud!"

"Watch out, or I might call you sugar-puff!" he said.

I went back to that deep tangle of soft black hair out of which his very respectably sized dick was projecting like a submarine's periscope. I licked the tip before putting it into my mouth. I savoured its slimy warmth and chewed it gently. Jon began to push it and I opened my mouth fully and let him fuck my mouth vigorously until after a few minutes, he cried "David!" and ejaculated violently several times, and I struggled to swallow mouthful after mouthful of his warm white blood. I put my hand on his sticky belly and lay beside him, gasping for breath. "My lovely, lovely man! Thank you, thank you, thank you." Jon smiled tenderly.

"Thank YOU" he said.

"Jon," I replied "You have no idea what that fuck has done for my self-esteem. I feel that I am a real man and not an overgrown adolescent with a big cock. Now I know that I can do it, I am quite happy to let you shag me whenever you want. On the other hand, I would love to take a turn at poking your back hole."

"My virginity loss was much more enjoyable than I ever expected," he said. "I think that you can take credit for your gentleness and sweetness. My boy may be happy to feel himself a man, but to me you will still be my sweet boy when you're 50!"

Within ten minutes we were at it again, this time just face to face with me on top squirting over our bellies and chests.

We cleaned ourselves up under the shower, made the bed and went to the pub for a late lunch. I was ravenous, and Jon ate more than usual.

Chapter 25 David

Jon had booked us into an hotel in Nice to avoid inconveniencing his mother. We had a nice double room with two queen-size beds on the same floor as the hotel swimming pool, which unusually had fresh water in it.

He telephoned his mother to announce our arrival and she invited us to come round that afternoon for tea. She lived in a large villa where she occupied one floor and there were other tenants above and below her flat. She was in her fifties, dark-haired like her son and she worked part-time as a translator. Sometimes she worked at home, but mostly in an office. When we arrived she was sitting at a table on the terrace outside her rooms that bore cups, saucers and plates.

"Mother, may I introduce David Scarborough?" he said formally. To my surprise I noticed that as we stepped onto the terrace, her gaze was focused on my crotch. Most women look first at my hair.

Her reply was anything but formal. "So you're my son's nancy-boy!" she said. "Come and sit beside me and tell me what he's like in bed!"

I sat in the chair beside her, my face the colour of beetroot. "He makes me very happy." I said.

"You're better endowed than he is" she said. "Have you tried it with him yet?"

How did this woman guess what we had been up to? I blushed again.

"Yes, as it happens" I said.

"I thought as much. You're not as pansyish as you look. Have you ever thought that you could make a woman very happy with what you've got in those pants of yours!"

"That equipment is not available to anyone except Jonathan." I replied. "I don't know how to please a woman, I do know what a man wants."

"All you need to do to please a woman" she said "is to be yourself. You've got all that you need between your legs!" I realized then that she was flirting with me, so I rose to the challenge.

"Jonathan," she said. "Go and make the tea, everything is ready in the kitchen." Jon did as he was told. His mother bent forward and said to me "I'd like you to come to dinner with me tonight. Just you, Jon can spend the evening at the hotel with his spreadsheets, or there's a couple of gay bars in the Rue des Pauvres if he fancies a shag."

At that moment Jon called me to carry one of the tea-trays. "She's trying to get you into bed with her" he said. "Like me, she suspects that deep down you are bi. She'll tell you that any man can perform if he's helped by an experienced woman."

"Why should I want to fuck a woman ten years older than my mother?" I asked.

"Don't ask me that, ask her" he replied.

We carried the two trays out on to the terrace.

"Well, are you coming to dinner?" she asked. "You can tell me all about yourself."

"Not unless Jon comes as well," I said, "he's your son, after all."

"He's boring because he's gay" she said.

"Most women like the company of gay men, because they don't feel threatened or tempted" I said.

"Yes that's just it. I like being threatened or tempted."

"Well, you can forget me. I'm neither a threat nor a temptation, and I'm only interested in rear entry" I said. "You're ten years older than my mother. Need I say any more?"