David's Final Undergraduate Year

Because I always did what I was told, I was not seen by the men as a representative of the bosses, and they were much more forthcoming with me, in spite of our different backgrounds. Every Wednesday night, I insisted that after we had finished work, the whole workforce should come back with me to the pub for a drink. At first, I paid for the drinks, but the lads insisted that they should pay their turns. The pub was not usually open in late afternoon, but the landlord was quite happy to open early if there was some business.

The conversation did sometimes get on to the topic of sex, and I thought that nothing would be more guaranteed to freeze the atmosphere than an admission that I was gay, especially at the time that this story takes place, when sex between men had only been legal for a few years. Accordingly I did not say much. Basically, myself, the plumber/electrician, who was happily married with a couple of children and the 19-year-old said very little about our sex lives. The others were more forthcoming. Two of them were always ready to chat about their latest conquests, the other, the foreman, who had been sleeping around for some years had now finally met someone that he wanted to marry.

One Wednesday night, after our first pint at the Jellycotes Arms, The 19-year-old apprentice, whose name was Don, went to the toilet for a pee. I followed him after a couple of minutes and when I entered the gents, I found him crying quietly as he zipped up his trousers. I went up to him and touched him on the shoulder. "What's the matter, Don?" I asked him. He clutched my arm. "Can I talk to you sometime?" he asked.

"Come here on Friday night if you can," I said. "I can talk to you for about half an hour before I catch the train to Camford to see my boy. If that's not long enough, we can meet again some time next week." I spoke and realized that I had given away the secret of my sexuality. But Don made no comment and agreed to the appointment.

Chapter 54 Jon

On the Friday, being January, it was dark by 4 pm, and we all packed up and left the site. As I walked into Ixton, I heard footsteps behind me. It was Don. "Hello, Don" I said. "What's the problem?"

"Sex," he replied.

"I'm not an expert on sex," I replied.

"No, but you're someone I can talk to without being laughed at," he said.

"Tell me about it, then," I said.

"I think I may be queer," he said.

"That's something you need to be absolutely sure about." I said. "It's a hard life being gay, and you may merely not yet have met the right woman. What are your feelings when you look at a beautiful girl, and how do you feel when you look at a beautiful boy or man? In particular, what happens between your legs?"

"I get a hard-on when I see a nice boy, but nothing happens when I see a girl."

"Hmm, that is suggestive. Do you read porn magazines, and if so, what turns you on?"

"I can't get porn magazines in Ixton!" he said.

"Then I'll get you some in Camford," I said, "some of each kind, and we'll see how you react. I ought to tell you by the way, but please don't tell the others, that I'm queer myself. But I've been very lucky. I've met a boy who loves me, and we are fixed up as an item. So don't be frightened that I will try and seduce you! The worst that could happen is that I might kiss you. In fact, why don't we try a kiss now, and see what effect it has on you? Are you game to try it?"

"OK," he replied. It was totally dark by now, and there was no-one in sight, so I put my arms round him and kissed him gently but firmly on the lips. He instantly went rigid, opened his mouth and I pushed my tongue into it. He put his arms round my shoulders and when I had withdrawn my tongue, he kissed me back very enthusiastically.

"I'll get the porn mags for you," I said, "but it's obvious to me that you enjoyed that kiss. But you might be bi, rather than exclusively queer. We would need a nice co-operative girl to find that out."

"Fat chance of that," he said, "but I'm looking forward to the gay porn mags."

"They're not the sort of thing that you can get in WH Smith," I said, "but they can be got in Camford."

"Thanks very much," said Don. "I'll see you on Monday then." I hurried into the pub to get my bag, and asked Ken, the landlord, to call a taxi to take me to the station. A couple of hours later, I was with David drinking beer in the Sparrowhawk.

I told him about Don. "You seem constantly being asked to sort out the sexuality problems of gay colleagues!" he said.

"I feel sorry for them" I said. "I remember the days when I was lonely and only had preoccupation with the business to keep me from being miserable. We'll go and get the grumble mags tomorrow," I said. "That scruffy newsagents in the alley off Queen Street has a good selection of porn mags, and we can get him some more respectable gay mags at the same time."

"Jon," he said "I don't mind if you suck him off, as long as you tell me about it. After all, I gave that guy in Haarlem a blow-job. And you helped me to establish my sexuality, why shouldn't you help this boy discover himself? I trust you, as long as you tell me about it."

Chapter 55 David

By now, the Candlemas term had begun, and I was busy in the lab. I had been assigned the task of synthesizing certain materials labelled with carbon-13 for use as precursors for biosynthetic studies, and which were not commercially available. For this part of the work, I was back with most of the other fourth-year students in the big lab in the Chemical Laboratory. It was not frontier-pushing work, but it was a typical task to assign to an undergraduate, because it gave valuable synthetic experience. I had talked to Dan C about the possibility of continuing in research for a Ph.D., and he agreed to talk to the Head of Department about it. I also mentioned it to Dr Crabtree, my supervisor in the Pharmacology Department. I would need to approach as many people as I could, to explore all possible sources of funding.

By now, the details of the Chapel choir's tour of Flanders in July had been substantially finalized. In addition to Antwerp, we would also be singing in Ghent, Leuven and Brussels. It had been a severe tax on my time and my spoken Dutch and had taken numerous phone calls and faxes to get these fixtures set up, not made easier by having to use Jon's fax machine, as students were not allowed to use college or departmental fax machines. Several of the host families in Antwerp had agreed to accommodate choir members for the whole duration of the visit, because the distances involved were short.

I usually spent Friday and Saturday nights in Jon's bed, and because the bedders did not come in at the weekends, I had no problems, and it left Jon free to get up early on Mondays to catch the early train to Ixfordingworth, the station nearest to Ixton, without disturbing me. Jon was still a registered student, and the college was happy to let him dine in Hall on Sunday nights. He had a certain amount of influence, because I discovered that he was secretly donating several thousand pounds per year to College funds, one of the few examples of a College benefactor who was still what used to be called 'in statu pupilari'. I still would not let him give me money, although I did not pay him rent or board for the time I spent in Fountain Street.

On the Saturday we bought the steamy grumble magazines that Jon had promised Don, and a couple of regular gay mags as well. Pornography in pre-internet days was quite difficult to get hold of, even magazines that were smutty rather than overtly sexual were relegated to the top shelves of the newsagents' displays.

We then went for our usual Saturday morning swim, and I noticed that Jon's speed was faster. Physical labour was toughening him, and I wondered what effect it would have on his efforts in bed... As we stood under the showers after our swim, Jon looked round to check that no-one else was within earshot and then proceeded to fart noisily. "One advantage of working with a bunch of guys, mainly in the open air," he said "is that I don't need to check who is around, before I let off. And the others are just the same, if they need to fart, they just let rip." I patted his rear, gave him a quick kiss, stepped out of the shower and started to dry myself.

Back at Fountain Street, I looked at the magazines that we had bought. Most of them were pretty soft porn, but one or two of them had some quite prick-raising stories. The regular gay magazines were pretty boring, most of the articles were on fitness, body development, men's health, and sexually transmitted diseases. Certainly there was very little to turn us on. "I think your young friend's going to be disappointed with these," I said.

"You're right," said Jon, "I shall have to take him some of my harder stuff that I bought in France. This stuff is useless to diagnose homosexuality."

We spent a very enjoyable afternoon in bed: I won't bore you with the details except to say that both Jon and I took a turn at fucking. Jon was, as I expected, considerably more randy and energetic than in the previous term. We ate in the flat and then went out to the Rialto to see a French film.

Now that Jon was away for five days of the week, our Sunday activity pattern had changed. After my early morning Chapel in college I would return to the flat after breakfast and we would go for a walk or make love or listen to music until lunchtime. We usually had a snack lunch at the Sparrowhawk, or as the weather got warmer, the Carp, and in the afternoon went for a walk, unless I needed to do small jobs in the lab. Jon started coming regularly to Evensong in Chapel, after which we dined in Hall, had coffee in my room, and then Jon would return to Fountain Street and go to bed early, as he had to be up early the next morning.

Chapter 56 Jon

I took the books and magazines that we had bought back to Ixton in a carrier bag, and at the first opportunity gave them to Don. The two upper floors of Rockwell's Barn were now complete, although they could only be reached by ladder, and we had begun work on reinforcing the roof. That required additional scaffolding to insert girders unobtrusively in the roof space and bolt them together without disturbing the massive ancient oak beams.

One night, I arranged with Don for him to come and have a drink with me at the Jellycotes Arms. He told me that the gay porn had really turned him on, but that the straight porn had produced if anything, an effect of revulsion. I asked him if he fancied any of his friends, as picking up strangers was not a good idea. I said that finding someone was fraught with problems, that it had taken me about five years after leaving school before I had found my lover. I also warned him about the dangers of going further than a blow-job, unless he was really sure of his partner. It would also be difficult coming out if he was living at home.

What he really needed, and what I could not give him, was a relationship with an experienced man, who was not himself in a long-term relationship, or a few experiences with gay men that he knew. The latter was ruled out by him not knowing any. The only possibility seemed to be visiting a gay pub. If he decided on that, I would have to go with him for the first couple of visits, just to make sure that he did not get involved in anything nasty. Moreover, that would involve regular visits to Ixfordingworth, and could really only be done at the weekend.

I advised him that concentrating on his work was most important, as he needed to complete his training to secure his future. Then the penny dropped. He spent one day a week on day-release courses at the tech college in Ixfordingworth. He would do better to keep his eyes open among his friends and fellow students. There was bound to be one or two queers among them. He said that he didn't know any, but would try and find out. I pointed out that his situation had now changed: that knowing his sexual orientation, he could motivate himself more positively. I also asked him what trades/disciplines were taught at the college. If there were any art and design students, he should try and get to know them, because that was where the gays were most likely to be found.

My problem was that having spent five years looking for the right partner, I was too sympathetic with gay loners who had difficulty, as to some extent I did myself, in engaging with fellow human beings, whether male or female. I felt obliged to try to help them without getting sexually involved with them. Obviously helpfulness is not of itself a bad thing, quite the contrary, but getting involved in the emotional life of others, especially gay men, is fraught with danger. I just wished that I did not feel so sorry for these guys!

Chapter 57 David

One evening I was talking to Jon on the phone and said to him "You know that we said that we would invite Robin and Arnold to come up from Exminster for the day? How about next Saturday?"

"OK, I'll phone Robin and get it fixed," said Jon. "It will give me a chance to see how they are getting on, and if they really look as if they want to be an item. I hope so, because I think that Robin will take it very hard if they break up."

On the Saturday morning, the boys arrived in Robin's car about 11 am. They had left Exminster quite early and stopped for breakfast and a crap on the way. I had not met either of them before, but instantly felt at ease with Arnold, who was lively and outgoing. He was studying botany and agricultural science. He seemed to genuinely fond of Robin, though it was difficult to be sure that he was actually in love, whereas it was clear from the way that Robin looked at him that Robin was deeply smitten. We had coffee in the flat in Fountain Street, and then Jon suggested that we walked to the Carp for a beer and lunch, along the Camwell towpath, that walk that had had so much significance for him and me nearly three years before. Unlike that occasion however, this time we really did get to the pub. As it was early March, it was not warm enough to sit outside, and we found ourselves in the same part of the bar where Jon had made that exhibition of himself when he got drunk before Christmas. As Robin and Arnold would have to drive home, it was not possible to have a lot to drink. We had a pint each and a further half-pint with our food. The cuisine at the Carp was good without being outstanding, and the visitors seemed to enjoy it. We had an interesting discussion about what it was like to be gay in a place like Exminster, which was a relatively small country town, without the sympathetic history of male minorities that Camford had. Apparently there was a nasty history of anti-gay violence, called in those days 'queer-bashing' near the two gay pubs in the town. The boys had to be very careful if they went out late at night, and certainly dared not show any kind of affection in public. Arnold told us that he was in his final year, so I asked him what he was going to do after graduation, had he got a job lined up. He replied that he had applied for several jobs and had been put on the shortlist for three of them, but none was in the Exminster region. Jon said that Robin's job did not require him to live anywhere in particular, so if they wanted to set up home together, there should be no problem.

The Carp had a small wharf at the end of its garden, where punts could be hired, and it was now late enough in March for them to be open, although only at the weekend, so the four of us hired a punt and took the two boys from Exminster for a cruise into the city and through the tangle of narrow waterways that crisscrossed the city between the ancient colleges. On the way back, Robin took a turn with the pole. He had never propelled a punt before, and found that it was not as easy as it seemed. The top end of his pole struck a bridge and he lost his grip and fell into the water, banging his head on the side of the punt as he fell. He was momentarily stunned, but fortunately the water was too shallow for him to get his head submerged. He was able to walk to the shore, and by use of the emergency paddle, we rescued the pole, got the boat to the side and were able to get him back on board in a slightly dazed state, with a graze on the side of his head. This fairly trivial incident however had a significant result. The expression of horror on Arnold's face as Robin fell and the speed with which he reacted, and the embrace when we got Robin back aboard the punt, told us all we needed to know about their relationship. These guys loved one another.

When we got back to the Carp, the people at the boathouse were very helpful. They supplied Robin with an old blanket to get himself dry and with a couple of large polythene bags for him to sit on and put under his feet in the cab that took us back to Fountain Street. He got his wet and muddy clothes off and we lent him some jeans and a T- shirt of Jon's. After a shower and a cup of coffee, he was none the worse for the bump and the wetting, and the relieved happiness of the two of them was so obvious that all four of us were tempted to start drinking again, and were only prevented by Robin's determination to drive back to Exminster that night. As it was obvious that the two were desperate to be alone together, we did not dissuade them from leaving, but asked Arnold to ring us when they got back to Exminster, which he did. "Well, I don't think you need to worry about Robin any more," I said. "Those guys are both in love."

"Yes," said Jon "all I've got to do now is to get Don sorted out."

"Watch it! " I said, "You're getting the Emma Woodhouse syndrome. Be careful and don't try to manipulate the poor lad's life."

Chapter 58 David

Jon and I went to the Sparrowhawk for dinner, washed down by a couple of pints of excellent beer, and returned to the flat for an evening in, as we were both feeling quite randy after the emotional display of our visitors. We put on one of Jon's French porn movies, sat down on the sofa with glasses of Madeira, and watched a couple of handsome men engaged in a blow-job. I reached out, unzipped Jon's trousers and slipped my hand inside and felt around for his tool. As it was rapidly hardening, it was not a problem locating it, and I got hold of it and pulled it out through his fly. I kissed the tip and Jon stood up and dropped his trousers and underpants to the floor and I immediately pushed him back on the sofa and started to kiss his hard, flat belly.

I followed his treasure trail down into his pubic bush and took some of the soft hair into my mouth. Although most of Jon's body was much less hairy than mine, when limp, his cock was almost lost in the enormous bush of black hair surrounding it. However just then its purple cut head was sticking up out of the surrounding bush. The faint odour of sweat was quite intoxicating, mixed as it was with the scent of shower gel. I moved my lips sideways and downwards and reached his balls. I opened my mouth and very gently nibbled the hairy bag. Jon grunted with pleasure. I licked the surface and ran my lips over each testicle before moving on to the shaft of his iron hard dick. I moved along it slowly and on reaching his rolled-back foreskin, I stopped and began to nibble it. I continued nibbling for several minutes before taking his cock into my mouth as deep as I could swallow. I chewed and sucked with all my might and Jon started to groan with delight as I worked on it. Because women are a mystery to me, I cannot say for certain, but it is my belief that no woman can appreciate fully the enormous pleasure that a man can experience from play with his sex organs. People who are obsessed with penetration ignore the delights that giving a man head can bring to him, along with playing with his ball-bag.

As I have always known since I recognized my homosexuality, every man knows how to pleasure another man because he knows what a man wants and enjoys. And that does not just apply to sex-play. Love between men is deeper and stronger than love between the sexes, which is why many of the greatest love stories are about homosexual love, even if much traditional Christian culture makes such stories usually end tragically. We even have biblical testimony to the strength of man-man love: 'Your love for me was wonderful, surpassing the love of women.' (2 Sam 1: 26). The best Christian traditions, as exemplified by Aelred, have always valued and celebrated man-man love, although weakening and devaluing it, by frowning on its sexual expression.