David's Final Undergraduate Year

"I don't think that Robin and Arnold can be more in love than us," said Jon tenderly as I felt the veins and knobs on his dick with my tongue. "Let's finish getting undressed." He undid his shoes and pulled them off, followed by his socks. He pulled off his pants and underpants together, while I pulled his T-shirt over his head. I removed my footwear and socks, stood up and pulled down my jeans and underpants. We went into the bedroom, where I tore off my shirt and pushed Jon back onto the bed, and began to nibble his nipples and suck the black hair surrounding them. "I'm glad that it wasn't you who fell into the water," I murmured as I wrapped my arms round him.

"Are you going to suck me off?" he asked. "I want to fuck your mouth."

"Let's do sixty-nine" I said, and made him lie on his back while I knelt and straddled his head, so that my dangling cock was tickling his lips. I bent forward and took his upward-pointing virility into my mouth, while he opened his to engage with mine before it became fully hard. There followed several minutes of silence as we adjusted our bodies and concentrated on judging how near the other man was to his climax. At this point, I have to confess that I let a massive fart escape from my rear end. To my amazed delight, Jon suddenly speeded up his work with his cock, and I followed suit with mine and within a couple of minutes we had both shot our spunk into each other's mouths. As I was on top, it was difficult to swallow the whole of Jon's ejaculate, and I could feel it dripping out of my mouth. Jon however managed to capture and swallow all of mine. I collapsed on the bed beside my lover, my head next to his toes, which I started to suck. "That's lovely," said Jon. "I love my Ganymede so much, especially when he farts. You really turn me on when you let off."

"That just goes to show what a dirty animal you are!" I said.

"Not when it comes to language!" Jon replied. "You often talk more crudely than the lads on my building site, in spite of your Christian piety."

"Christians often talk crudely," I said. Augustine said 'Inter faeces et urinam nascimur' 'We are born between shit and piss', which is anatomically absolutely correct, but perhaps rather bad taste, considering that it is female anatomy being mentioned. And as far as farting is concerned, at least we are using the anus for one of its biological purposes, and not as a nice tight passage for a gay man's dick!

"To me the big advantage of being gay is that you don't have to watch your language in the bedroom. Most men like to talk frankly to one another, and that often means using rude words! Besides, dirty talk turns me on."

"So I've noticed," said Jon drily. "So farting turns me on, and dirty talk excites you!"

"I always find it a bit embarrassing when we go for a piss in a public toilet and you fart loudly, which is why I never stand next to you at the urinal. I pretend that I don't know the guy that just let one off!"

"If I can't fart in a toilet, where can I fart?" Jon asked. "Peeing always makes me want to let off. As I've told you before, I had a notorious reputation at school for farting. The teachers used to dread the outbreak of giggling when I let one off in the classroom. Anyway, why are we talking about MY farting habits? It was you that let off just now!"

Chapter 59 David

Just before Easter, Jon came back to Camford mid-week for his Ph.D. Examination. In Camford University, this took the form of an oral examination by one internal examiner from the University and one external examiner who was an authority on the field that Jon had been working in. With five published papers, the result was a foregone conclusion, so the examination only lasted an hour. Because of the format of his thesis, there were no corrections to be made, and he walked out of the room fully qualified for the conferment of the degree. However, he had decided to wait until I got my B.A., and he would take both his M.A. and his Ph.D. at the same time.

Once again we went out drinking with Tom and Steve to mark Jon's success, but this time he was very moderate in his beer consumption. The following night, he was wined and dined by his supervisor, Dr S in M College, and on the Friday, Jon took Dr S and his wife and me out to dinner at a very expensive two-star Michelin restaurant out in the country near Camford, where we had a restrained but very enjoyable meal with much wine and a taxi booked to bring us back to Camford. The meal was a celebration, not just of Jon's success, but also of his birthday, which fell the following week. It was the first time that Dr S and his wife had met me socially (though of course I had attended some of his lectures), and it must have been very embarrassing in those days to be introduced to someone's gay partner. Jon did not fudge the introduction. He said "I would like you to meet my boyfriend David Scarborough." How much Jon said about his absence in Camford to his workmates on the building site, I never found out.

By now the Candlemas term had ended, and I was frantically trying to organize the last of the carbon-13 syntheses and write up my final lab report. The report had to be in for the last day of the Pentecost term, after which in mid-July we would get our final degree classification, after a short oral examination by the External examiner, a Professor from another university, in this case Durham University. So I would be busy for the whole of the Easter vacation, except for five days over Easter itself, when we would be in Nice visiting Jon's mother.

We flew to Nice from Bristol, as in the previous year. Jon's mother had organized a formal party among her friends to celebrate Jon's doctorate. The affair was held in a smart hotel, and was a black tie occasion. The food and drink were of the highest quality, and I felt slightly ill-at-ease, although both Jon and his mother complimented me on how smart I looked. It seemed almost like Hollywood, except that again Jon introduced me to people as his boyfriend, and unlike England, there were no nods and winks from the guests. Jon knew only a few people there, and I of course, knew none. I struggled with conversations in my schoolboy French, and wished that the party was being held in Holland. At one point in the evening, I was in the toilets having a pee when Jon came in, crept up behind me at the urinal, grabbed me as I was shaking the last drops of urine off my tool, turned me round, my tool still hanging out of my fly, and kissed me passionately. I spent the rest of the party knowing exactly what would happen when we got back to our hotel room!

One thing that both Jon and I were absolutely agreed on was in our typically English male hatred of dancing. It had not occurred to him that a party in his honour would include dancing, so you can imagine the dismay of both of us when at 11-30 pm, dancing was announced, when all that we wanted to do was to get back to our hotel and get on with fucking. Jon went and spoke to the DJ, and discovered that the dancing was only scheduled to last for half an hour, so we went on to the hotel terrace and let the guests get on with it, much to the annoyance of his mother who had hoped to get us on the dance floor together.

At 12-15 when the music showed no signs of finishing, Jon grabbed my arm and led me to his mother. "I'm sorry, mother," he said, "but we're going to have to leave now. It's long past our bedtime. Thank you very much for a most enjoyable evening."

"Oh, aren't you going to have a dance? I thought that gays loved dancing!"

"Not these two!" said Jon and swept us out of the room. We walked back to our hotel in the warm spring evening, hand-in-hand, the atmosphere slightly spoilt by what had happened, but we were both too full of lust to feel unduly upset.

We undressed more carefully than usual, because of our fancy clothes, which we carefully folded and hung up. We then tore off our underclothes and threw our arms around each other. I pushed Jon onto the bed and turned him over onto his belly, and began to kiss and nuzzle his smooth hairless arse. I buried my face in his crack, kneeling astride his legs. I got hold of his hips and lifted them up so that he was kneeling, but his upper body bent forward, opening him up at the back. I then started to rim him. I nuzzled the sides of his cleft, I licked his anal hair and pushed my tongue as deeply as it would go into his hole. He grunted with pleasure as I worked on him. "You haven't rimmed me for ages," he said, "I'm really enjoying it. You could say it was just what the doctor ordered!" I was not of course in a position to make any reply.

After a few minutes, having lubricated Jon's crack with a hefty dose of saliva, conscious that my dick was oozing copiously, I sat up, opened a drawer beside the bed and pulled out a condom, which I unrolled over my prick. I anointed it with lube and gently inserted my man-stick into Jon's hole. He grunted with pleasure as I entered him, and muttered encouraging noises as I fucked him. After a few minutes of sublime joy, I shot my load into the rubber. I continued pushing and withdrawing for few minutes, but then my erection began to subside, and I slowly withdrew my limp and tired dick from his arsehole. I pulled the sheath off my male member and knotted it. I reached again into the drawer and pulled out another condom and took it out of the packet and handed it to Jon, who had turned over onto his back, and his manhood was sticking up like a periscope. "I want to ride your dick," I said. He grinned with pleasure, pulled the sheath onto his tool and reached for the lubricant gel. "Turn round a moment, so that I can grease your hole," he said.

There followed a very enjoyable few minutes in which I worked very hard to give him maximum pleasure before he came with quiet grunt of triumph and satisfaction. I could feel his dick softening inside me, so I pulled myself up off him and collapsed beside him on the bed. "Thank you, sir, for the pleasure of that dance!" he said with a grin.

"Thank YOU for the target practice!" I replied. "I hope I hit the bullseye!" As there was no mess to clean up, we just crept under the sheet and fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning was Easter Day, and I persuaded Jon to come with me to church. "I'm only doing it to please you because I love you," he said. "Doctor Singleton does not need a fix of spiritual medicine." There were a lot of people at the service in the English church and in spite of Jon's reservations, I think he did not find it unpleasant. He joined in the hymns, which I presumed he had heard at his boarding school, and listened attentively to the sermon. I noticed him staring round when I went up to receive the Sacrament. The congregation was a mixture of elderly expats and holidaymakers.

Jon's mother was not a churchgoer. We went to her flat afterwards, and she gave us an excellent lunch. "I always like to entertain you boys," she said, "because you have such good appetites," and indeed we did eat a lot of the excellent cold lunch that she had had sent in by a firm of caterers. "I'm very proud of my son's achievements," she told me. "I think he will make a good career as a scientist. It's rather a change from his father's engineering business, though I think my late husband would be disappointed that my son is selling the family business."

"Well, I did try mother," said Jon, "but I find the business side unexciting, and the products, although steady sellers, are not very innovative. It makes a living for the employees and shareholders, but there's no challenge in it as a job.

"I find the challenge of creating a new house much more exciting. Rockwell's Barn has now got to its most interesting stage, internal services and fitments. Hopefully we'll be able to move in next summer, but at first we will only be living there at weekends, as we hopefully will both be working in Oxford, and Jon in particular may find himself working in the lab at all sorts of weird times. But we should be able to spend a bit more time there during the summer. Tiresomely, we may end up having to get a car. It can take up to half a day sometimes to get to Ixton by public transport from Camford."

After some further chat, we left and went for a long walk. In the evening we went to the restaurant that we had visited the year before, and had dinner in the all-male dining area. No-one came to chat us up this time, and we went for a walk along the beach before going to bed.

We flew back to England on the Wednesday, and the following day I was back in the lab, with only a skeleton technical staff. Everyone else was away until the Monday. By now the materials I had synthesized were ready for testing, and I deferred further work on my report until we had done some experiments with the new material, particularly checking its isotopic purity and its biological activity as a precursor. Jon had returned to Ixton.

Chapter 60 Jon

We returned to England with me still feeling disgruntled at my mother's attempt to get David and me onto the dance floor. On the day after we got back, I returned by train to Ixfordingworth, and by lunchtime was back on the site. Things had progressed during my absence, and partition walls were going up on the upper floors. Things had progressed with Don too. He seemed exceptionally happy as he pushed his wheelbarrow around. I managed to get him alone for a few minutes during the lunch break, and he grinned at me happily. "I've found someone," he said. "He's a design student, and he's cute."

"Have you been out together yet?"

"Yes, we went to the pictures in Ixfordingworth."

"Did you hold hands?"

"Yes."

"Who started it? I mean did you get hold of his hand or vice versa?"

"I did."

"That's great! Did he like it?"

"Yes, he put his arm round me."

"Did you kiss?"

"Yes, and I now see what you meant about knowing when somebody responds to a kiss. He really enjoyed it, and so did I."

"Right. Then what happens now is up to you. Don't wait for him to react. How old is he?"

"Eighteen."

"A bit younger than you then. Have you talked? Does he have any sexual experience?"

"He says he has had and has given blow-jobs to one or two lads of his own age."

"Does he make you happy?"

"YES"

"Do you make him happy?"

"I think so, he always seems glad to see me."

"Then just get on and enjoy your relationship. You'll soon know if you are in love. It's not always comfortable, being in love."

"Can I continue to talk to you about him? He gets me so excited, and there's no-one else I can talk to."

"Of course. I understand that. Have any of our workmates said anything?"

"Yes, they seem to think that I've met a girl."

"Let them go on thinking that then. It's much too early for you to come out. I've not told them that I'm gay, although they will soon guess when they meet my boyfriend."

Chapter 61 David

The Pentecost term went by rapidly. The preliminary experiments with the carbon-13-labelled material looked very promising, and were finished in time to incorporate in my report, that actually went in a week early. I had of course to continue work in the lab for another two months at least, to qualify for an M.Chem. However, writing the Master's dissertation would not take long, as much of it was simply repeating what I had just written. I would have a week's break in July for the Chapel choir tour of Belgium. When I returned, there would be my oral exam, followed two days later by publication of the final results of the honour school of Chemistry.

The college authorities would not allow me to keep my room after the end of term, so I had to uproot myself yet again and move back to Fountain Street with all my possessions. This time however, it would be for good, my undergraduate days were over. Jon welcomed me back into his bed with great enthusiasm. I also was extremely glad of the resumed intimacy, although this time I was in charge of the flat as its sole inmate from Monday to Thursday, a job which included doing Jon's laundry and food shopping for the weekends, and liaising with our kind, tactful and unobtrusive cleaning lady from the college flat. During the week, I mainly ate in a student restaurant. But at the weekends when I awoke in a morning, it was great to be able to rub my face in his dark, short hair, to stroke his chest and belly as he lay in my arms, to run my hands over his smooth and unshaven arse. It had come as a shock to me when I discovered how many gays shaved or waxed their bodies.

The work on Rockwell's Barn was progressing rapidly. The difficult and demanding work of making holes in the stonework for new windows had begun, the masonry removed being carefully retained for new work elsewhere on the site. The new windows would be sealed double-glazed units with specially treated hardwood frames, and rotatable for cleaning. At one end of the rectangular box-shaped building, the part of the pitched roof that covered the rear of the building, facing the road, but fifteen metres above it, would be removed to create an open roof terrace, but leaving the ancient beams in place, protected by a sealed coating. The area so created was not large, perhaps four metres by ten, but it afforded a private open space for sitting and sunbathing and which would eventually have trees and flowers in tubs and containers.

As soon as my lab report was in and just before I moved out of college, Jon invited me to come to Ixton for a day during the week to inspect the work. "I'm not going to introduce you as my partner, but if anyone except Don asks, I will tell them," Jon said.

"I shall be interested to meet this lad," I said.

"I don't think you'll find him attractive unless you like rough trade. Brown sugar: sweet but unrefined!"

"I'm not interested in him sexually," I said. "Just as a person."

"How do you know that you're not interested in him sexually until you've met him? He's nearer your age than mine!"

"Are you sure that if asked you should come out to your workmates? You have another two months or so to work with them, it would be a pity if you spoilt the working relationship by declaring yourself a poofter. Don't forget that most people are not like the people in Camford University. They are much more likely to be quite homophobic, like the President's husband, from what you told me."

"You're right of course, but I have changed. You mean too much to me for me to deny our relationship if asked. But maybe 'don't ask, don't tell' will prevail even here. And they're not going to start quizzing me while you are there, so only I have to deal with it."

A fairly important operation had started at Rockwell's Barn, the installation of the main staircase, which was to run from the entrance hall behind the original barn door to the first and second floors. The windows and the plumbing and electrical wiring on those floors were complete, indeed most of the rooms were ready for plastering. All wiring and pipework was in specially accessible conduits rather than buried in plasterwork. However, the window seats, internal wooden window shutters and the staircase were all to be done by a specialized carpentry firm. The staircase was a reclaimed antique oak structure, rescued from a country house that was due to be demolished. It required quite a lot of additional woodwork for its installation, and that was the work that Jon particularly wanted me to see. So there were three additional men on the site, besides the usual construction workers. The new seasoned oak hardwood had cost a lot of money, but as Jon said, he was building for the future. Special felt overshoes had to be slipped over the boots of all site workers indoors, and the foreman rigorously enforced this.

I gasped in amazement at the beautiful structure as we climbed it to see the work going on upstairs on window seats and shutters. The seats were solid oak, but the shutters were pine. Toilets, shower units and a bath, and washbasins were already installed, and the upstairs was beginning to look potentially habitable.