Date: Sat, 23 Jul 2011 15:48:17 +0100
From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@gmail.com>
Subject: Inky White and I Chapter 10

The following morning started much as the day before. Inky brought me a mug
of tea in bed. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes before going
down to light the stove and start the breakfast.

As it was another fine day, we went out walking again. This time we turned
down the valley, and the walk was more along forest tracks and by rushing
streams than on the bare moors of the day before. Again, we talked a great
deal, and again, I will give you an account of the vital parts of our
conversation and not the trivia and the frequent interruptions when we had
to overcome some obstacle in our path.

I began the serious part of the day with an outright question: "Does Brenda
yet know about your sexual interest in men?"

Inky paused. "Patrick and I talked long and hard about telling Brenda. She
is a typical woman, her intuition telling her that something was amiss. It
certainly crossed her mind that there was another woman, but somehow it
didn't fit. She knew the work set up, and the folk at work. She would have
picked up vibes if there was anther woman involved. Yes, she knew I was
often out of the office, but I had always chatted to her about where I'd
been and who I'd seen. I didn't go into their financial details, naturally,
but I would tell her some personal details. I'd always done that, and
continued when I started up with Patrick. I never mentioned Patrick at all
to her. Our days up here together were few and far apart, and easy to
cover."

"Does Brenda still not know about you?"

"She knows now. It all came out, very soon after I received your first
Email."

"Quite recently, then. What happened?"

"She started it all off. 'You know, Inky, I used to be able to read you
like a book. But I have a feeling you are hiding something from me. For a
while, I thought it might be another woman. But there was no evidence,
nothing seemed to foster that suspicion. I knew it wasn't some financial
matter, unless it was too small a sum to worry about. We've always had a
joint account, I always knew exactly where we stood, there were no secrets
about that since the day you moved in with me. I somehow can't see you
engaged in some criminal activity, I know you too well. If it was some
secret little vice, you would have shared it with me. I just haven't a clue
what it is; but I am sure there is something.' She sat looking at me across
the kitchen table, eye to eye.

" 'Yes, I suppose there is something. I've been wondering for some time how
to tell you, but there has never been an opportune time.' She looked at me
with such penetrating yet loving eyes. I found it hard to continue.

" 'You may remember years ago, the first time we made love in your flat
down in Maidstone, you asked me if I was a virgin. I told you then that I
had had a certain amount of sexual activity with boys at school.' 'I
vaguely remember,' was her reply. 'You said you'd soon cure me of that. A
few years back, the memories of those far off school days returned. Then
the desire to do something about it.' 'And have you?' she asked. Rather
shame-facedly, I nodded.

Brenda immediately stood up and stared at me. 'So that's why sex is so rare
these days, and so unsatisfactory! Why didn't you tell me, and I could have
helped you before it got serious?' 'It is not as simple as that! I have
fought those desires every inch of the way, Brenda. I love you, I still
love you, but always there was this mounting desire for a man.' 'And you,
you lilly-livered scum bag, gave way to it?' 'Eventually, after two or
three years of struggle, I gave way. There was an opportunity, and I
fell. I felt so guilty afterwards.' 'Quite right too!' she said, 'but you
did it again.' 'Yes, after many months, I did.' 'Is it one man, or
several?' 'After that first time, there has only been one man.' 'I suppose
that's something to be grateful for. Is he a colleague, or is he client? Do
I know him?' 'No, Brenda, you don't know him.' 'What's his name?' 'I don't
think I should tell you. You could make life very difficult for him.' 'I
feel like tearing his eyes out, though his cock and balls might be more to
the point. Why won't you tell me? Is his work sensitive?' I think Brenda
must have seen from something in me that she had scored a hit. 'What is he?
In the public eye? A local politician? A doctor? A vicar?' I gave a slight
nod at her third suggestion. Though Patrick never saw or called himself a
vicar, but a priest, or parish priest; I thought vicar would distract her
enough from the Roman Catholic church on to the Church of England. 'How
often do you see this vicar-man?' 'When we can, which isn't very often.'

"When I think it all over, it is a wonder to me that she'd never put two
and two together and seen our likely amorous rendezvous as the cottage up
here. I did wonder if that thought may have crossed her mind, and I
wouldn't have put it past her to have come all the way here when she
thought we might be up here."

"Perhaps she did?" I suggested.

"But she never came when we were here," replied Inky.

" 'How long has this been going on? How long have you been seeing this
vicar man?' she asked. 'A year or two.' I was purposely vague. 'This sordid
truth explains much. It explains why sex has become less frequent between
us. But I am disgusted to think that we have had sex, and where your
promiscuous dick has been. I need time to take all this in, and to decide
what to do.' She stormed out of the room, and a few minutes later the front
door slammed and I heard her drive off in her car."

"And you, Inky, what did you do?" I asked.

"I think I sat down and wept, but there was also a sense of relief that it
was now out in the open. I knew telling her would never be easy, yet I owed
her the truth. I still loved her in a way. We'd had a good marriage until
the old sex urges returned. Now the children would find out. I wondered
what the future would hold. Brenda returned a couple of hours later. She
did not tell me where she'd been. 'You can sleep in another bed from now
on.' She went off upstairs and there were the usual sounds of her retiring
for the night. I sat for a long while brooding. I wanted to ring Patrick,
but I knew there was an extension to the land line in our bedroom. I
couldn't use my mobile, as I had left it on the bedside table, something I
always did when I came home and changed out of my work clothes."

"Could she have found Patrick's number on that?"

"I hadn't mentioned his name to her, and though he was listed on my mobile
there were a host of others, many of them clients, and she wouldn't be be
able to tell him from Adam.

"I eventually made my way up to bed. It was the first time we had slept in
separate beds since that first night when I was beginning my accountancy
training, except for when the kids were born, or when one or other of us
was away."

"I presume Sharon and Wayne know about you."

"Oh yes, they know. In fact, Brenda had been round to Wayne's that evening
and told him. He lives the closest."

"How have they taken it?"

"Wayne is very hostile. He's very abrupt with me nowadays, only speaks to
me when he has to. Sharon is better, but is very upset about it all. She
has only been married a couple of years, and is pregnant with her number
one. She sees a lot more of her Mum than of me. I am sad about that, as we
used to be very close."

"So what has been happening over these last two months?"

"It has been an extremely difficult time. You could cut the atmosphere in
the house with a knife. After a couple of weeks, Brenda said she wanted a
divorce. We managed to have a reasonable conversation about who should move
out. With some help, we have managed to agree as to how things will be
divided. She will get the house, and I will keep the cottage. The
difference in value is considerable, as you will imagine. I'm now looking
for somewhere to live. I couldn't make up my mind whether to go for a flat
near the centre of Newcastle or a house in the suburbs. I have started
looking at some apartments towards the centre of the Newcastle. I think I
will be spending more time at the cottage. It needs some money spent on it,
but I might even get permission to get power from the river to provide the
essentials. Might even build an extension with a bathroom, which would save
the trips out to the netty in a howling gale."

"What does Patrick think of it all?" I asked.

"He's been a great support. So many decisions can only be made by me, but
he listens."

"And you still make love?"

"Oh yes, when we can. We never make love at the presbytery. I know he'd be
unhappy with that, though when we are there alone we sit close and hug and
kiss. This winter, we've not been out here. We are very close and good for
each other, in more ways than just sexually. He finds it refreshing to have
an agnostic friend, rather than a Roman Catholic like himself. I have found
him helpful in that quiet listening way over the last two months.

"How old is he?"

"Fifty, same age as us. We are very comfortable with each other."

"I suppose you can't live together?"

"No. What would he do if he left the church? It is almost impossible for an
ex-Roman priest to get into teaching these days. He would be a suspect
paedophile from the word go. His whole life has been the priesthood, he's
only fit to stack supermarket shelves! Besides, he still feels the
priesthood is his calling, and he enjoys his work, though how he does it I
don't know. He works very hard, a six day week if he's lucky. Often it's a
seven day week, and liable to be called out in the middle of the night if
one of his flock is thought to be dying."

"How does he cope with the official church line on homosexuality?"

"'Intrinsically evil, a disordered condition'? He's not the only gay priest
by any manner or means. His friend in Rome leads an active life, and he
says there is quite a lot of it there. Patrick says that all the time guilt
lurks to some degree around every actively gay priest. But he says that he
believes that God made him that way. If God made him that way, a loving God
would not give him such a sexual drive with the demand to say 'no' at every
turn. I don't know what will happen when he retires. We could live together
then, but Roman Catholic priests don't retire until they are seventy-five,
if we both get that far."

"Wow, that is a long working life. I'd like to meet your Patrick, Inky, I
really would."

"Perhaps you will one day. He's more than just a fuck buddy, though he is a
lovely guy to fuck, and loves my hard cock deep in him for as long as
possible. We both look forward to the times when we can be together, and
that is not just in bed."

We both laughed.

"Things will be easier for us when I get a place of my own. He can come
round, and we can spend time together. The odd evening, and perhaps even
the odd night."

"And that may not be long into the future."

"I suppose not."

We continued our walk, talking more generally, and catching up on news of
the past years. As we walked, I think we both felt as though we had slipped
back into the easy relationship we had in our school days. I certainly did
not think Inky had changed all that much as a person. He was older and more
mature, but he laughed in the familiar way at the same things.

We made our way back to the cottage, to a meal and an evening quietly
talking before the fire.

XXX


I was the first to wake the following morning. I lay in bed for a short
while, but I have never been one to remain there for long. So I got out of
bed, put my dressing gown on, and made my way as quietly as possible down
stairs. While the kettle boiled for that essential day starter - a cup of
tea - I got the wood-burning stove going. I made the tea, put all the
necessary things onto a tray, and made my way up to Inky's room. I knocked
softly on the door, and then more loudly, before a muffled voice invited me
in.

"Sorry to wake you, Inky, but I have made some tea."

"Good man."

"And got the stove going down stairs."

"Even better man." He sat up in bed revealing his naked torso. I had seen
it already, but again the sight called back memories of our school days. In
spite of a slight thickening with the passing of the years, I doubt if he
had put on more than two or three pounds in weight, or added more than an
inch to his waist line.

I poured out a couple of mugs of tea, and handed one to him. "There's
another one in the pot."

He was lying in the middle of his double bed; he moved to one side. "Why
don't you get in?  You'll get cold, and you look like a pea on a monument
just standing there."

As I raised the duvet, I realised he was totally naked and I was wearing
only my dressing gown. I slipped into the bed.

"Long time since we've been in bed together," he said.

"Over thirty years by my reckoning."

"How time flies. Oh, for the long-passed halcyon days of our youth."

"Do you want to go back to studying about Don Pacifico, and exams, and all
those uncertainties of adolescence?"

"No, but there were some good times."

"Like the time you invited me to put my hand into your trouser pocket?"

We both laughed. We sipped our tea. I put my mug down on the floor beside
the bed, and then Inky did the same. We rolled back and snuggled down under
the duvet, the air in the bedroom was rather cold. We turned onto our sides
so that we were facing each other. There was a significant moment of
silence as we looked at each other.

"I think, Phil, I still find you as attractive as I did that first day when
you did put your hand into my pocket and held my hard-on."

"Seeing you alongside me, and knowing you're stark naked, I'm getting a
hard on again."

"So am I." Inky lifted the duvet and I saw his hard on, as he saw mine. The
cold air on our warm nakedness soon made him lower the duvet again. He
moved closer and put an arm round me. I responded by getting close. I could
feel his hard cock pressed against mine.

"If we stay here much longer we'll be doing something that, while we might
like it, Patrick will not."

"Patrick won't mind. He knows he's very special to me, but he said he
trusted me, and if I wanted to and the opportunity arose, I should not say
'no'."

I chuckled. "I had a rather similar conversation with Andy before I left,
but he was more unhappy that something might happen between us."

"Then we'd better not do anything." There was a marked look of
disappointment on Inky's face.

"I'll deal with Andy. He is my number one."

"Will he be jealous?"

"I think more hurt than jealous, but I will deal with him. I want to go
back to those old times, Inky. You're still as sexy as ever."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

We just moved into kissing and holding each other. It was soft, gentle
kisses at first, but they became more passionate. I reached down and felt
his hard cock. I squeezed it. "So how is my old friend down there?"

"Very happy to be held by you again. But he's very aroused, and there's
something he'd like to do."

"What's that?" I asked.

"I want you to fuck me, Phil. Patrick is a hundred per cent bottom, I
always fuck him. I haven't been fucked since that waiter in Manchester
several years back. I'd like your cock to go where he's gone before."

I kissed Inky. "I'm happy with that. But I think we need some lube."

"No problem," said Inky. He got out of bed, and going across to the chest
of drawers he got a tube of KY jelly. "I've got this for when Patrick is
here." He prepared himself, and handed the tube to me.

I prepared my cock while he got into the bed. He felt cold. I dropped the
tube down beside the bed. "How do you want it?"

"I'd like to start doggie fashion and then I can lower myself so that
you're on top. We can keep the duvet over us, then we can take it as long
and slow as possible. You used to be able to cum two or three times in a
session without losing your hard-on."

"Those were the days! I was young then." I replied.

Inky got up onto all fours, and by keeping the duvet draped over us both it
was not too cold. I put my cock into position against his warm arse-hole,
and began to push. It slipped a couple of times, and then my head was in. I
slowly pushed.

Inky gave a deep sigh. "I always enjoy fucking Patrick, but I'd forgotten
just how wonderful it is to be fucked. You fit as perfectly as you always
did, Phil."

Inky pulled one of the pillows so that it was underneath him and raising
his arse. He lowered himself, and I maintained the penetration. In that
position I was deep inside, and lying on his back I took a lot of my weight
onto my arms. His head was turned to one side, and my face was close to
his.

Somehow I managed to restrain myself from immediately thrusting into
Inky. That initial crisis point which spoils so many fucks by cumming too
soon was passed. We both relaxed. We were both comfortable with each other
and in what we were doing.

"Are you likely to cum?" I asked.

"You used to be able to get us to shoot together. I am fairly close, and
much more movement from you will probably make me cum."

"I'll see how long I can delay the inevitable." We were both very relaxed,
and in that position both of us were comfortable. He told me more of his
first time with Patrick, and I told him more about Andy.

"I think we're both on to good things," said Inky.

"I know I'm onto a good thing now. Your arse is as warm and welcoming as it
ever was. It is a shame it so rarely gets used this way, especially if you
like it."

"I have tried to persuade Patrick to have a go; he tried, but shot his load
before he got in, and since then has refused. Don't get me wrong, I get
great satisfaction from fucking him, and he likes it in every conceivable
position. He is such a great guy, I couldn't wish for a better friend, but
it is good to have your prick back in there."

If my cock began to slacken, I just had to move around a bit and it was
fully hard again. We were not setting out to be especially lengthy in this
proceeding, but we were. Eventually I moved once too often, and I warned
Inky. He shoved his buttocks up, and I increased the rate of my ramming
into him. I shot my load, and almost immediately afterwards I felt him
spasm, as his load was deposited on the pillow beneath him.

We lay for several minutes, replete and satisfied. Quite soon my cock was
limp, and Inky squeezed his muscles so that it slipped out of him.

"Thanks, Phil. I needed that."

"Any time to oblige an old friend."

"Maybe again tonight."

"I should've recharged the batteries by then."

Soon after, we got out of bed into the very cold bedroom. It was not easy
getting cleaned up with water from a kettle in the kitchen. But it was soon
done, and we were eating breakfast.

We did not walk so far that day, as by mid-day clouds were appearing to the
west, and Inky thought there would be rain before the day was over.

Inky told me some more about Patrick. "It was very interesting the first
time I brought Patrick out here. Back on Tyneside, I think he is very
conscious that he is the parish priest. He speaks with an Irish accent, but
with a Geordie tinge to it."

I laughed. "The mind boggles!"

"It was strange, as we drove out here that first time, his Irish accent
became more pronounced. I could almost feel him relaxing and becoming more
his real self. He speaks with the softest accent from his native county,
Clare. He laughed and joked in a way that I had only got glimpses of
before. When we eventually got out of the car, he just stood taking deep
breaths. 'What a wonderful place you have here, Inky! I almost feel back in
Ireland, it is wild and bleak, just not as boggy as back home.' I told him
I could take him to plenty of good nearby peat bogs."

We both laughed, as we had encountered several in our walks together over
the last few days.

"I went into the cottage to get the stove lit, and to make some coffee. I
fully expected him to follow me. I suppose it was a good ten minutes when I
took out a couple of steaming mugs of coffee. Patrick was seated on one of
the rocks, gazing into the hills. He turned sharply when he heard me
approach. 'This is a good place, Inky. Good, hard working people lived and
laboured here once, tending their sheep and cutting the turves. We'll make
good love here, my friend.' He took hold of his mug, and we both looked at
the view. There was now a healthy and welcoming plume of smoke coming out
of the chimney. I went and stood behind him, with my thighs and crotch
pressing against his back. 'That's nice.' He wriggled his back. 'I can feel
something important saying it is time to get on with things.' 'We must give
the stove time to warm up the room.'

"We went back into the cottage. There was a little warmth in the room, but
not much. We sat on the sofa and hugged each other. Soon we were kissing,
and hands were exploring and unzipping jeans. I made some comment about
sofas not being ideal places for real love making such as we both wanted,
so we brought down the mattress from the double bed. It was quite a job
getting it down those narrow, twisting stairs; I had forgotten what a job
we'd had getting it up there in the first place. We started lying fully
clothed on the mattress, but soon, item by item, our clothes came off. It
wasn't very warm, but we were soon warming each other up. I gave him what
he wanted, a very long and thorough fuck. Not quite as long as you this
morning, but quite long.

"We had a lovely day together. We ate some lunch and went for a short walk,
for about half an hour. Then back in the cottage, we made love again,
before returning back to Newcastle. It was a wonderful day, that first
visit here. It marked a big step forward in our relationship. We knew that
we got on together even better away from the constrictions of life back in
Newcastle."

"We have both been very lucky, Inky. You have your Patrick, and I have my
Andy. There are so many gay men who would give their eye-teeth to have what
we have with our special friends, even though we do not actually live with
them."

XXX

Naturally, we slept together that night. Nothing was said, we were both
presuming we would do so. Both of us just got into the double bed together,
no word of request or invitation.

We cuddled under the duvet for quite a while, talking, and then slowly
showing our affection for each other. Inky fulfilled my request and gave me
a long highly satisfying old-times-sake fuck.

XXX

Easter Bank Holiday Monday was my last day at Inky's cottage. We went for
another long walk. We talked a lot, but nothing significant was added to
our stories.

I think we were both pleasantly surprised just how easily we had resumed
our old friendship. The thirty year interval was as nothing. I fucked Inky
again that night.

We did not linger in bed in the morning, as I had a long drive ahead of me
and I wanted to get under way.

Breakfast was slightly sad, and for the first time in my visit there were
poignant silences. We were determined to keep in touch, and determined to
see each other when we could, but Newcastle and Exeter are at opposite ends
of the country. We could not pop round to see each other for a few hours;
even my five night stay with Inky just about justified the journey.

We said goodbye at the car. We gave each other a long hug, and exchanged
several kisses, then I was into the car and on my way. When I came to the
rise from which I had got the first view of Inky's cottage on Thursday
afternoon, I opened the window and waved a handkerchief. I could see in the
mirror that Inky was still standing outside, and he waved back.

The journey back seemed even longer than the journey up to
Northumberland. I stopped a couple of times, and each time sent a text to
Andy reporting my progress.

I arrived back home at five o'clock. I unloaded the car and had a quick cup
of coffee before walking up to Andy's. He was busy in the cowshed. He had
the radio on, he said music helped soothe the cows! I called to him.

We met in the middle of the milking parlour. He was in his usual farming
clothes, and smelt it. We did not regard that. We were immediately into
each others arms. We kissed.

"Good to be back, where I belong."

"Good to have you back. How did it go, meeting up with Inky after all these
years?"

"It went very well indeed. The thirty year gap was as nothing. We did a lot
of walking and talking."

"Good, keep you fit. Did you.....?"

"Yes, we did."

A long sad "Oh" came from Andy. "It is what I feared."

"Andy, my love, my lovely Devon farmer partner, you, Andy, are definitely
my number one; Inky is my number two."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Yes, Andy, I really mean that."

"Will you be seeing him again?"

"I hope so. And I want you to meet him, and I want to meet his partner
Patrick."

"He's got a partner, then?"

"Patrick is his number one, and I suppose I may be his number two, I'm his
only other two. You, Andy, are definitely number one for me; Inky is number
two."

"Who are lucky boys then, having number twos as well as number ones?"

"Perhaps when I introduce you to Inky, he could become your number two,
too." I gave him a kiss to stop him from further questioning, but a
definite thought had been sown in my mind.