Date: Thu, 21 Mar 2013 15:08:35 +0000 (GMT Standard Time)
From: "RichardPetersBooks@yahoo.co.uk" <RichardPetersBooks@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Loose Leaves Part 4 - Carter Plays Ball Chapter 1

I have written many gay/bisexual stories and would welcome any feedback.
This particular story "Carter Plays Ball" is a novel about the sport of
Soccer. It is available for the Kindle on Amazon.

Posh Timothy Carter immerses himself in the homoerotic world of soccer stars
 I hope you enjoy the free episodes!

My Blog is: http://richardpetersbooks.blogspot.co.uk/

My Amazon author page is: http://amazon.com/author/richardpeters

Carter Plays Ball

1. Millenium Reflections

My name is Carter, Timothy Carter M.B.E., current steward of Low Longsdale,
my estate in Yorkshire, which has been in my family for generations. Some
say I am a stuck-up toff, but I prefer to think that I preserve standards
that are so lacking in these days, at the turn of the Millenium.

Being a confirmed bachelor and also confirmed, since the age of nineteen, to
the ways of Oscar Wilde, in nineteen eighty two it became obvious I was not
going to begat an heir for the family fortune, due to my following of the
Socratric path.

So, back then, I adopted Peter, who has now turned twenty-one and has grown
into a fine young man to inherit the family estate. He is the delight of my
life, and now that I have attained the ripe age of sixty-one, I could wish
for no better heir.

Where does my story begin? Should I go back to my days as a student in
Cambridge? No, that can wait another day for the telling. No, a good place
to start is nineteen eighty two, after my solving of the London hotel murder
and my getting to know the handsome footballer Garry Newburn.

Some of you may already know of the handsome Australian and the London
murder mystery, so I won't re-tell the details now.

I always thought I was so finely attuned to the Wildean way that I could
spot a Socratic tendency in any male. Back then, I was amazed to learn that
I had failed to see the inclination of Socrates in the famous footballer,
Garry Newburn! How Garry and I became unusual lovers was told in that murder
tale and does not need narrating again now.

After I solved the murder in London, in nineteen eighty two, I had hoped to
fade away back into my privileged anonymity. Unfortunately that was not to
be. Once the trial came around, I had to testify and the press pounced upon
my story. The homosexual aspect to the case caught the seedy imagination of
the tabloids. "Surecock Holmes - Private Dicktective!" was the worst epithet
that they tacked on me, when news of the homosexual peccadilloes was
revealed in court and the story was told of how I had found the killer.

I survived the exposure. My private life was revealed to some extent, but
fortunately I was able to retire to the safety of my estate in Yorkshire.
Garry, who I'd managed to keep out of implication in the murder story, was
wonderfully supportive and visited me as often as his football career and
his marriage would allow. For twelve months I wanted for nothing else
sexually. Garry was exciting, young and virile. With a wonderful mixture of
sexual curiosity and bravado, the handsome Garry was more than fulfilling
for me and he was also my best friend. Of course, I was only forty-three
then and only twenty years senior to the devastatingly handsome footballer.

During this period I adopted my darling boy Peter. My solicitor had
expedited it through and fortunately I was given custody of the boy before
the publicity from the trial.

I have been homosexual all my life. I suppose, for these modern times I am a
bit stuffy and old-fashioned. I prefer to think I have standards, but I am
aware that I am losing touch with modern life.

You may well call me "gay". How I detest the use of that word. In my day,
gay" was a wonderful word that conveyed carefree happiness. The word did not
 to my way of thinking, have anything to do with sex between men, which
could be anything from degrading, to wonderful. Sometimes gay, sometimes
hopelessly sad and pathetic.

I prefer the word homosexual. In these days of such sexuality becoming more
exposed I have wondered why the word homophile has not been coined to
describe Socratic tendencies. "Love of men" is what homophile meant and that
is certainly what I have felt all my life. I love men. I love their bodies,
the male sexual organ and the contact of my body with male bodies.

Since I met him, Garry had not been my only source of male company over the
years but we have a kind of loyalty that is rare in the so-called "gay"
world. He has been my only true love since he had first given himself to me
and apart from his wife, who he had loved dearly, I knew his love for me was
constant. He has always been honest about his desires and I always knew he
had a few "special" friends and needed to experiment.

Yes, these past eighteen years have been wonderful and fulfilling for me! I
have not always lived up to the standards of sexual behaviour that I had
resolved for myself, but compared to my dangerously promiscuous behaviour,
before I met Garry, I have behaved in a very restrained manner!