David's Second Year at College

"One day you'll want to be a father, but if you don't know how to do it with a woman, you'll never have any offspring."

"Have you ever heard of surrogate motherhood?" I asked her. She did not answer.

"Look, Mother" said Jon. "David is mine, and I 'm NOT sharing him with you or anyone else. And I'm certainly not going to pick up men in a gay bar. Jon, it's time for us to leave."

We left and David took me to dinner at the Michelin-starred restaurant to which his mother would have taken me. "I know them here" he said. "We can have a table in the section of the restaurant frequented by the gay rich and their fancy-boys.

"Bon soir, Emile," he said. "May we have a table in the back room?"

"Mais oui, Monsieur" the Maître d' replied, and led us though a doorway to a room where a number of smartly dressed middle-aged men were dining in couples with much younger men, many of whom were much less well dressed. The waiter brought us menus and asked what we wanted by way of aperitif. I asked for a Campari-orange, Jon asked for a Dubonnet.

The food was excellent, as was the superb red wine that we drank to accompany it.

I looked curiously around at the other diners. The young men accompanying the middle-aged ones were often scruffily dressed, leather being very prominent, some had tattoos.

"Women customers are not allowed in this room," said Jon "nor are men on their own. Parties or groups of up to six men are welcome, provided they do not get noisy."

"I suppose the smartly dressed men do not want any of the women friends of their wives to see them with their nancy-boys."

"Yes, not all Frenchmen have mistresses. Many have boyfriends."

Some of the customers were holding hands, but on the whole everyone was behaving discreetly. Quite a lot of the men seemed to be looking at me. They didn't show any interest in Jon, although we were the youngest couple in the room. At the end of our meal, one couple did come across and offered to buy us drinks. We agreed, and they joined us. At that stage neither of us felt like more alcohol, so we asked for fruit juice. I could feel the eyes of both the two men on me. They were talking to Jon in French and while I could follow some of their conversation, it went too fast for my schoolboy French. They were quizzing Jon about what we were doing in Nice. Jon just said that we were visiting his mother. Then the younger man asked Jon if my hair was naturally blonde and the older man enquired about the size of my dick. The younger man was trying to catch my eye and I kept looking away. I felt uneasy, as I often did in the presence of gays. Jon could see that I was fed up, so he stood up and beckoned the waiter, asked for the bill, paid it and said the two men: "Sorry but we have to go now." The young man looked disappointed.

We had eaten a lot----hors d'oeuvres, fish course, main course, dessert, cheese----and finished with coffee. We had also knocked back a full bottle of red wine in addition to our aperitifs, and Jon had had a cognac and I had had a Benedictine with our coffee. We were very full and somewhat drunk as we made our way back to the hotel about midnight. When we got up to our room I said to Jon: "We've eaten and drunk too much to have sex tonight. Let's have breakfast from room service about 9 am. If we wake about 7 am, we have a couple of hours to enjoy ourselves and still have time to shave and shower before breakfast."

So we undressed and cleaned our teeth. I said my prayers and we got into Jon's bed. I kissed him good night and heard him snoring gently as I fell asleep.

The alarm woke us at 7 am, and we immediately began to kiss and cuddle. Jon got on top of me and we rubbed our rockhard dicks against each other's bellies while kissing each other's faces, shoulders and chests. Jon pushed his dick between my legs and we wriggled and rubbed for five glorious minutes until we both came. After fondling one another for a few minutes, we showered together and shaved. We had both been stark naked all night. I poured us two glasses of fruit juice from the minibar and we sat there happily, both of us farting from time to time. I then retired to the toilet to do my morning business, while Jon read yesterday's French newspaper.

"Make sure you clean up your hole thoroughly on the bidet" said Jon "you can't get it clean under the shower." So I worked on it with a soapy flannel and took the condoms out of my toilet bag.

About 8 am Jon crept up behind me and started to kiss my arse. "How about riding me?" he said as his dick stuck out in front of him. He lay on his back on my bed (we had to pretend that both beds were being slept in). I climbed onto the bed and straddled him, my legs on each side of him, and I slowly lowered myself on to his rockhard dick and he guided it into my hole.

This was an entirely novel experience for me. Here was I being fucked, but having to do more than half the work myself, as I pushed my posterior down and lifted it up again, holding onto the bed-head tightly with my left hand. But between my raised knees I could see Jon's face, smooth and freshly shaven smiling tenderly at me, his brown eyes glistening, the black hair on his chest standing up from its recent towelling.

I tried to quicken my place, and my limp dick bobbed up and down. Jon grinned as he watched it. "You're so cute," he said "I am unbelievably lucky. If you'd been straight, you would have been wasted fucking women. They would probably make you get your hair cut. (My hair was also bobbing up and down with the motion of my body on Jon's man-pole). After a while I speeded up, because my knees were starting to get uncomfortable.

Jon did the same and shouted "My stud" as he started to squirt into the rubber inside me. When his spasms died down, I pulled myself off his tool and lay down beside him to relax my lower limbs. He turned on his side, put his left arm over me and began to stroke my chest as he kissed my left arm and shoulder. The scent of the rather nice French shower gel provided by the hotel filled my nostrils. Soon after 8-30, the phone rang. It was Jon's mother. She apologized for her behaviour the day before and invited us to have lunch with her at a small beachside restaurant.

We took swimming trunks with us and set off. We deliberately arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes late. We wanted to send a message of disapproval. When we got there it was a beautiful warm day in early April and we found Mrs Singleton sitting outside, drinking a glass of wine. We greeted her and sat down.

"I'm sorry about what I said yesterday," she told us. "I really wanted to test David. If he had turned his back on my son for an old woman, that would not have said anything for the strength of your relationship and would probably have indicated that he had mercenary motives, thinking that he might get more money out of me than from you. That however doesn't mean that I don't find David attractive, nor does it take away my feeling that if he ever wants children he has got to learn how to do it with a woman, which I have to admit is rather different from doing it with a man." She was not going to let the unladylike word "fuck" pass her lips.

"Thank you, mother," said Jon. "If he had accepted your offer of teaching him how to do it with a woman, it would have broken my heart. His mother has warned him that I might be vulnerable."

"Please, both of you, kiss me to show that there are no hard feelings," she said. We both did so, I with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

We had an excellent lunch, just the main course and dessert, and Jon and I had a glass of beer each. The sun was surprisingly warm and when she saw that we had bathing trunks with us, she insisted that we went into the sea. We both thought that the real intention was to see me without clothes. I still had traces of the suntan from the previous year that Jon had so admired in September. The enlargement of the front of Jon's bathing trunks was rather obvious as we ran down the beach, and his mother cannot have failed to notice it, as she was a habitual crotch-gazer. We splashed around in the water for about 10 minutes, but it was rather cold and we ran up the beach to get dry.

We parted from Mrs Singleton relatively amicably. I asked Jon if her behaviour was typical, and he said she was normally as she was that day rather than as she had been the day before. I could see why he did not show great affection for her. He confessed that he much preferred my mother to his own.

We flew back to Bristol next day and took the train back to Camford. I was to stay for two days in Camford before going home for what was left of the vacation. Jon said that he would come to see us at home on Maundy Thursday and go back to Oxford on Easter Tuesday.

Chapter 26 Jon

The big event of the Candlemas term was the time that David decided to test and assert his manhood. I was not surprised that he felt he was assuming a submissive role when he was not really a submissive person. So when he said that in spite of my reservations and fears, he wanted to fuck me, I really felt that I had to say yes. In actual fact he was incredibly sensitive, tactful and thoughtful in his approach. He had obviously learned from his own first time what the problems were and because of the size of his own male member he took particular trouble to ensure that I would not suffer any damage or unnecessary pain on first penetration. The initial entry did indeed give me a considerable degree of discomfort, but once he was inside me, I began to understand the satisfaction that men get from being penetrated anally. He was incredibly tender and sweet and so grateful to me for having afforded him the opportunity of fucking the man he loved. Afterwards too it was very noticeable that he gained increased self-confidence in lovemaking and in taking the initiative about sex.

Early in April we flew to Nice to visit my mother. The visit was not the success that my visit to David's parents had been, although eventually she seemed rather reluctantly to approve of my boy. I spent a short Easter break at David's home, but did not see as much of him as I would wish due to his religious commitments on the Thursday, Friday and early Sunday morning. On Easter Sunday he got up at a ridiculously early hour to go to what he called the Dawn Mass and did not get back until breakfast time. Even so, it was a lovely family occasion. Little Jeroen was delighted to see me, and I tried to get to know David's sister Dorothea. I found her an attractive and highly intelligent girl, who did not seem to have time for males of any sexual orientation.

David and I only managed to make love once while I was there. I returned to Camford on the Tuesday as I had a lot to do in the lab in the two weeks before the beginning of the Pentecost term, and I wanted to try to finalize the transfer of the business-related drudgery to the firm's new employee. For that purpose, I had to spend a couple of days in London. I also had to decide the fate of the flat in London, whether I should purchase it from the firm or simply relinquish my right to use it. I did not want to place a burden on the firm in the transfer period, so I agreed to relinquish my usage rights, allowing the firm to let it and so provide them with some income.

Before David came back, I had to make plans for May 12, the anniversary of his declaration of love and our first union. It happened to be a Saturday that year, so I could take him away from Camford for a day. Accordingly, I decided that we should spend the weekend in London, and make use of the flat while I still had the right to use it. I got tickets for the Royal Opera House's production of 'L'Elisir d'Amore' at Covent Garden on the Saturday, with dinner in the restaurant there before the performance. I also made a dinner booking for Sunday night at a small Italian restaurant that I knew which was near the flat. It was a family-run concern and I wanted to introduce David to the staff and I knew that we would have an excellent meal. We would take our bags with us to the restaurant and return to Camford by a late train.

We left Camford about six o'clock on the Friday evening. On the train I told David my plans. He was delighted to hear that we were going to the opera. "I've never been to Covent Garden" he said, "and what a thrill to hear an opera about love. I think that Donizetti is a very underrated composer."

When we arrived at Fennington station in London, we took the tube to the nearest station to the flat, which was in a less fashionable part of West London. "Sunday night we're going for a decent meal at a good restaurant," I said. "So tonight let's just go to a pub where we can have a drink and something to eat. There's quite a decent pub just down the street from the flat."

After unpacking, we had a quick shower. We had to go in the shower once a time as the bathroom in the flat was so minute. We dressed and went out to the pub, where we enjoyed a couple of pints of very respectable beer. This was in an era when decent cask-conditioned beer was quite hard to obtain, as there was a widespread fashion for nasty gassy pasteurized beer expelled from the keg by CO2 pressure. We then enjoyed some reasonable pub food and even managed to get a cup of coffee, which in those days was very unusual, even in West End pubs. We talked about what we were going to see tomorrow night. "Opera is very good food for love," said David. "Have you read HG Wells's 'Ann Veronica'? I think personally that that it is Wells's only good book although it is not one of the most famous."

"No," I said.

"In the book the heroine falls in love with her zoology lecturer, who is a married man. Another man who is in love with her takes her to see a performance of 'Tristan und Isolde' and during the opera he declares how much he loves her. She has been so affected by the music that the next night she allows him to take her to a restaurant with private rooms. It's a bit like the restaurant that you took me to in Nice except that it was a private room for two with a big sofa. After the meal, the waiter was paid and almost ostentatiously discreetly closed the door. As he left, the friend stands up, turns the key in the door and attempts to seduce her. She was naïve and had not realized till the door was locked what the man expected. She resists, fights him because she is in love with someone else and had misunderstood his approaches. The evening ends without her actually been raped, but she realizes how stupid she has been to misunderstand what he wanted. As a matter of fact, she owed him money.

"I think it would make an extremely good opera but no one has ever attempted to do it. You really ought to read it. It reflects the 1920s era very well, but there's a lot of human nature in it as well. It would have even more impact if you made the major characters gay.

"'Ann Veronica' is also interesting because there are a lot of passages in which Ann Veronica compares the life of women very unfavourably with the life of men, a sentiment that I entirely agree with."

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" I asked David.

"Let's find an art gallery with lots of male nudes!" he replied. "In the meantime, let's go back to the flat and fuck."

So we returned to the flat, calling in at an off-licence for a bottle of Prosecco and some bottles of White Shield. "It's lucky that the flat has a double bed," I said. "I didn't choose the furnishings with fucking in mind, but I like space to sleep." We sat on the sofa and I poured us a beer each. David started to feel my crotch, and my cock started to stiffen as he ran his hand over my trousers. I kissed him and put my left arm round his shoulders and began to unbuckle his pants with my right hand. "We're starting our anniversary celebration rather early," I said, and kissed his golden hair.

"Jon, my treasure," he said "I love you so much. Please, please can I fuck you?"

"Oh, my love," I said "of course you can. You can have all that is mine if you want it. I am so, so fortunate to possess someone as sweet as you, my Sugar-puff. Are you OK for lube and condom?"

"Yes, I've got those nice Dutch condoms. I'm going to try entering you face to face."

Chapter 27 David

Jon lay on his back and I lubed us up, taking care to poke several fingers into his hole and push the K-Y gel into it. Then I got hold of Jon's legs and lifted them on to my shoulders. I rolled the condom on to my dick and coated it with lube. I slowly pushed the head into Jon's hole. I felt his sphincter stretch as I got inside and I pushed forward gently but firmly until I was deeper inside him than I had ever been previously (not that I had fucked him all that often. Usually I prefer to have him inside me). "Are you OK? I asked him. He gritted his teeth.

"I think so" he replied.

"Right then," I said, "here we go." And I went at him harder than I had ever done before, faster and deeper I thrust my big cock into the guts of my big boy with the little tool. I started to sweat and I could feel it dropping on Jon's chest. I had never fucked him in the missionary position before and I was enjoying gazing at his lovely male face, with the shadow of stubble by now very prominent. After five minutes or so, it became clear that his initial discomfort had worn off and he was now enjoying being recipient of my dick up his man-cunt.

I paused in my thrusting to kiss him on the lips and to rub my lips over his rough cheeks. "I love you so much and I've learned so much from you, my darling stud," I said. "Sleeping with you is the nearest thing there is to paradise on earth, feeling your warm embrace and hearing you snore are better even than fucking or sucking."

"How about when I fart?" he said "not so good then, I bet!"

"It's not so often that you stink the bed out," I said, "most of the time it's not unpleasant."

I resumed my fuck movements and within a couple of minutes, I knew that I was about to come. My breathing began to get noisy, I gasped and shuddered and convulsed and my dick blasted what felt like a pint of come into the rubber in Jon's rectum. I slowly pulled my dick out of his arsehole and gently unwound his legs from my neck and lowered myself on top of him, pushed my belly downwards and began to rub it against his tool. I could feel it stiffening as I kissed his face repeatedly. "Get that thing off your prick before it slips off and messes up the bed," he said, so I turned on my side, pulled the condom off and tied it up before dropping it on the floor.

I wiped my tool with tissue and then lay back on top of Jon, anxious for him to enjoy a climax. I had to work pretty hard on his dick before I got him to come, but eventually he shot his load over both of us, and we had to clean ourselves up. By then it was pretty late, but we opened the Prosecco and emptied the bottle before I fell asleep in his arms.

Chapter 28 Jon

Next morning we got up early, went out for breakfast to a restaurant round the corner and spent the morning at the National Gallery. It was enjoyable, but there were not enough visible dicks to please David. We spent the afternoon in Saint James's Park, as it was warm spring day. We went early to Covent Garden so that we had plenty of time to eat before the performance, which we both enjoyed enormously. Nemorino was played by a famous Italian tenor, but I whispered to David that I thought he could have sung the role just as well. This gave him the giggles. I said to him afterwards that the opera was more about gullibility of a man in love than love itself.

We were quite tired after a day in the open air, so we just had a quick 69 before going to bed. The next day David insisted on attending church at All Saints, Margaret Street, but we met afterwards for a light lunch at a pub. In the evening, we turned up at the Italian restaurant at 6 pm, because we had to catch a train at 10 pm. Whenever I was in London, I ate there and I knew the proprietor Paolo and his wife and son very well.