Date: Mon, 1 Mar 2010 19:24:39 -0500
From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@gmail.com>
Subject: Peter Broad's Story submission

This is a story that involves a little sex between males.  If such a story
is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not
continue, go and surf elsewhere.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific
person or persons.  If there is any similarity to any real persons or
events it is entirely coincidental.

The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any
form without the specific written permission of the author.  It is assigned
to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it
may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written
permission of the author.

My thanks to Brian who has read this through and made a number of
corrections and suggestions.  Any remaining errors, grammatical, spelling
historical or whatever are entirely my fault.

Thank you to those who have commented on my stories.  If you want to
comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. but
please, after 8th May 2010, I am away until then. I aim to reply to all
messages eventually.

If you wish to be added to or removed from a chapter post notification
list, please send an email with your request to jeffyrks@gmail.com


Peter Broad's Story


30.

Raymond, Cricket and George Riley.

The first weeks of the summer term were very busy for Peter.  There were
exams towards the end, and he decided it was important to get his head into
his books.  He planned a full revision schedule and worked hard each day.

His meetings with Raymond dropped off to once a week, when they went for a
walk on the Sunday afternoon.  They either walked round the University
Park, or went into Wollaton Park.

Raymond spoke little of work, more of visits into town, or films he had
seen.  His social life was in no way curtailed by the approach of exams.
Raymond was still holding out hopes for sex with Peter.

"If you say `yes' at the end of the term, or even feel like saying `yes'
during the vac, we could go off in September to somewhere and enjoy each
other.  Even a week in Greece, say Mykonos, where a lot of gays go, would
be wonderful.  What a more wonderful place to have your first experience of
gay sex than Mykonos."

Peter would laugh.  "Don't count your chickens.  I have not said `yes'
yet."

"I know you have not.  I feel you are moving.  Are you not closer to saying
`yes' now than you were when we first met before Christmas?"

"Yes, I do think you are right."  He gave Raymond a push, and they both
laughed.

They went back to one or the others room for a drink.  Then they would
part, always having a hug.

Peter allowed himself one game of cricket a week.  He did quite well.  He
was happy with his batting average, slightly better than his average during
his last term at school, so he was improving in that department.  He also
took a handful of wickets.  He never reckoned himself to be much of a
bowler, so he was pleased.  Two of the mere handful had broken long
partnerships by opposing batsmen, so he gained a reputation in the team of
being a useful partnership breaker.

The only trouble at the start of the season was that George Riley was in
the same team.  George continued to make his taunting whispers to Peter,
but they were never said in the hearing of other team members.  George was
an opening batsman, and on several occasion his opening partner and the
next batsman were out quickly and cheaply.  George and Peter got their
heads down, and put together a sizeable number of runs.  As George began to
respect Peter as a batsman the remarks became less frequent.  The time they
clocked up a hundred partnership for the third wicket, George whispered in
his ear, "Go on like this and I'll line up the side to give you a blow job,
one a night for fifteen, no fourteen nights.  You must count me out."

Peter laughed.

-0---0---0-

31.

The second Party at Ben and Clive's

The exams came and went, and that strange spell of University life began.
Students awaited the results, and some departments seemed to stop work for
the remaining couple of weeks of term.  Peter's department resumed lectures
and tutorials, and the work proceeded, and did so until the very last day
of term.

The other activity which took up quite a bit of time over the last few
weeks was finding somewhere to live for the next year.  Half way through
the year Peter and two other lads in his hall had decided that they would
find a house to live in for the next year.  They viewed several houses.
Some recommended were a long way from the University, and others for a
variety of reasons did not appeal.  Eventually they were lucky enough to
discover a house in Chilwell, not too far from the University, and on the
right side of Nottingham.  It was being vacated by four research students
whose University careers were drawing to a close.  Peter was pleased, in
that it was not very far from Ben and Clive's.

Just before the exams Peter had received an envelope in his pigeon hole.
It was written in the familiar small neat script.  It was an invitation to
another gay get together at Ben and Clive's.  There was a hand-written
postscript.  `Sorry not to have seen so much of you this term.  I did not
invite you round because I thought you would be working hard for your
exams.  Right?  Hope they went well.  Looking forward to catching up on all
the news. Love Ben.'

Peter went hoping that Anton would be there.  This time Peter was one of
the first to arrive.  Each time there was a knock at the door he hoped that
it would be Anton, but it never was.  He recognised some of the men from
the last time, one or two appeared to be there for the first time.  The
talk was good.  The food was good.  There was plenty of drink.

Towards the end of the evening, when it happened that Peter was standing
alone, Clive came across.  "I hope you have enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes, very much."

"I get the feeling you are disappointed that someone is not here."

"How come?  Was it that obvious?" said Peter, blushing slightly.

"I noticed that whenever someone arrived you looked across hopefully, and
when you saw who it was, there was a look of slight disappointment on your
face.  Who was it?  You can trust me."

Peter blushed even more, "I was rather hoping Anton would be here again."

Clive smiled.  "Anton is working this evening, that is why he couldn't
come.  You could do far worse.  Anton is a good lad, one of the best.  I
will see what I can do."  Before Peter could respond, Clive patted his arm
and walked away.

-0---0---0-

32.



Two days later Peter received a letter from Anton.  `Clive told me this
morning that you had been asking after me at their party the other
evening. I am afraid I could not get.  I no longer work on Clive's ward, so
he could not fix the duty rota as he did last time.  What about meeting up
at Rutters next Tuesday at 7.30?  I do not have a free evening until then.
Or will you be gone home for the holidays?  Yours Anton.'

Anton left his hospital phone number, and on the third attempt Peter spoke
to him, and confirmed the meeting.

Term was now in its final few days.  He had a final interview with his
tutor.  He knew he had done quite well in the exams, but his tutor was very
encouraging.  He suggested that Peter keep his work ticking over during the
long vac., gave him a book list of nearly fifteen books, and suggested he
read as many of them as possible.  If he continued to work as hard, he was
a strong candidate for a first class honours degree.  Anyway have a good
vac.

Work had virtually stopped, just one lecture for Peter on the Tuesday
morning.  Then it was home to Whitgest on Wednesday, and starting his vac
job at the Hermitage on Monday.  So on the Tuesday evening he caught the
bus into the centre of Nottingham.  As it ploughed its way up Derby Road
towards Canning Circus, he wondered how the evening would go.  He began to
have second thoughts.  He had only spoken to Anton for those few minutes
just before Easter.  Would Anton read too much into what Clive had said to
him?  Perhaps they would not get on at all.  He got off the bus and made
his way through town towards the Rutland Arms.  As he crossed the Old
Market Square, affectionately known to generations of students as `slab'
square, he felt the heat from the very hot afternoon sun still coming off
the paving stones.

He entered the pub, and Anton was standing at the bar, with a pint in his
hand.

"Hi, good to see you.  What will you have?"

Peter asked for a pint of bitter.

"Good for you," said Anton.  "I am glad to see that you are not a lager
lout, like so many poncy students."

"Cheers," said Peter raising his glass. "I needed that after the heat of
today.  I even had a lecture this morning.  The last day of term."  There
was a slightly awkward pause.  "What sort of day have you had?"

"In bed, asleep mostly.  I've just finished what has seemed like a bloody
long spell on nights, and I needed to get some sleep in.  I woke about 4.00
did some washing, cleaned up my flat, and then did a bit of shopping.
Somehow such routine things don't get done when I'm on nights."

"How long have you been at the hospital?"

"About eighteen months.  I hope to qualify as a psychiatric nurse in a
couple of months.  I did general nursing at Jimmy's in Leeds."

"So you've known Clive for eighteen months, then?"

"Yep.  He was in charge of my first ward.  He's a big man.  Big in every
way.  I couldn't have wished for a better boss.  There were two of us
student nurses on his ward.  Both starting at the same time.  He gave us
time, and taught us how he wanted things done, even the most elementary.  I
think it was on the fifth or sixth day when he was showing me where some
linen was kept, and we were alone together, that he asked me, `Are you
gay?'  I think I blushed bright red, and blurted out, `How did you know?'
He gave the usual reply, `It takes one to know one.'  `Are you too?'  I
asked, totally gob smacked.  `Yes, I am too.  Most folk around here know
about me.  I have had no hassle, maybe because people are afraid of what I
might do to them in some dark alley.  And you take that in which ever way
you wish!  If you do have any trouble, have a word with me.'  How long have
you known him?"

"Only since just before Christmas.  I knew Ben years ago, our brothers were
friends, and the families lived in the same village.  When he was eighteen
and I was a seven or eight year old, Ben was exiled from home because he
was gay.  I didn't see him again till the end of the autumn term, when we
ran into each other.  I've seen quite a lot of them both since then."

"They seem a great couple, though unusual in many ways.  Their backgrounds
are so different.  Ben is a scholar, and Clive certainly is not that.  But
they seem totally committed to each other."

"Ben told me their story.  I think their different backgrounds and
interests have led to a widening of horizons for both of them."

"So where do you and Ben come from?"

"From a small village called Whitgest in Hertfordshire.  You're from the
north east aren't you?"

"Yes, my accent is a dead give away. I am Sunderland born and bred and
proud of it.  Though I wouldn't want to go back there to live again.  It
doesn't have very happy memories.  Mostly bloody bad ones.  Do your folk
know that you are gay?"

"No. Not at all.  There'd be all hell to pay if they found out."  Peter
hesitated and glanced around, he was conscious that the bar was crowded.

Anton picked up the hesitation.  "It is rather noisy and crowded in here.
Let's go for a walk.  We can then talk more freely."

They finished up their drinks and made their way out into the street.  They
walked across town, and across Maid Marian Way and made their way up to
Nottingham Castle.  There they found a park bench, and they both sat
down. The sun was beginning to set, into a distant bank of dark clouds.

Peter spoke about his strict religious background.  He and Ben came from
similar churchgoing families. The Menzies family had thrown Ben out.  He
then gave a brief account of the events of the last term, and a fuller
account of the inquisition.  "Yes, my parents would be horrified if they
found out.  I dread to think what would happen.  But what about you?  Do
your parents know?"

"No.  My background is very different from yours.  My father worked in the
ship yards, until they closed down.  He is a tough working class man.  I
come from a small terraced house, with four brothers and a couple of
sisters, and very little personal privacy.  My father was outspoken in his
remarks about gays, or `nancy boys' as he called them.  There would be
physical violence if he knew."

"When did you begin to know that you were gay?"

"Quite early on.  Before I was into double figures I realised I was not
quite the same as the other lads.  I didn't like football, and other things
that a lot of the other boys got up to.  I was always a bit of a loner.  I
was also a bit brighter than most of the other lads in my class.  I
realised that if I was to be true to myself I needed to get away.  I don't
think I knew for several years exactly why I was different.  I knew the
only way to get away, and not end up unemployed or in some dead end job,
was to make the most of my education.  So I worked quite hard at school.
That, of course, made me different.  The other lads took it out on me.
Being good at lessons was in their eyes sissy.  I was caught in a sort of
vicious circle.  I was not good enough to go to University, and in any case
I wanted to do something with and for people.  Much to my father's
disapproval, I took up nursing.  I did four years at Jimmy's in Leeds.
Then the eighteen months here."

"Do you see much of your folk?"

"I go back at Christmas time or for the New Year depending on my duty.  I
usually pop back for a weekend in the summer.  They've got their life.  And
I'm making mine."

"So you must be older than me."

"I'm twenty three.  How old are you?"

"Nineteen.  You have not told me how you realised that you were gay.

"It was when the other lads started getting really interested in girls.
They talked about the merits of the girls in the class.  Then they started
seeing how far they could go and boasting about how far they had gone.  You
know the sort of thing."

"Yes.  The same thing happened for me at my school."

"I began to realise," said Anton, "that I wasn't interested in sex with
girls.  The thought of sex with another boy, or with a man, was quite late
in coming into my thinking.  I think looking back on it, it was the family
set up.  We were all cooped up in a small house.  I could never have any
privacy.  We four brothers slept in one bed room.  In bunks.  That is,
until my elder brother married at nineteen and moved out.  Then there were
still three of us.  I couldn't have any private possessions.  I couldn't
have any books, porn, or otherwise about sex, without my brothers or my
mother knowing.  There was nowhere to hide such things.  I think the first
time I slept in a room on my own was in the hospital nurses quarters at
Leeds.  For the first time I could have things that were mine, and which
were not known to anybody else.  When I was at home the only privacy I ever
got was going out on my bicycle.  I used to do that a lot.  It was a relief
to get away to Leeds."

"What did you do when you got there?  Go out and buy a stack of gay porn?"

"No I didn't," said Anton laughing.  "I saved up, and as soon as I could I
bought a motor bike.  But I did join the public library, and got out one or
two books about homosexuality.  There was one about How to be a Happy
Homosexual.  I found it very illuminating.  But what about you?"

"During my final few years at school I had a steady girl friend.  Her name
was Janet.  A very nice girl.  On the last night of the summer holidays,
nearly a year ago now, she told me that she thought I might be gay.  I was
horrified.  Quite angry in fact.  There was something else.  Ever since
puberty I've had these vivid sexual dreams.  They were always with a
man. That worried me.  But I think they were showing what I really was.  In
fact it is only over the last ten months or so that I have begun to realise
that I was gay."  Peter realised that with these words he was making a
significant admission.  He was saying openly to another, that he was gay.
It was the first time.  He thought for moment, as to whether he was happy
with the admission, and decided he was.

He got up.  "Isn't it close?  I think it is going to storm.  Let's walk
again."

They walked slowly past the General Hospital, and then up the Ropewalk
towards Canning Circus.  Anton started the next stage of their
conversation.  "How do you square your being gay, and your strict religious
upbringing?"

"The short answer is that I don't.  The longer answer is that I think I am
beginning to see the way forward."

"Why don't you give up your religion?  Quite a significant number of gays I
have spoken to have a back ground like yours.  They've just given it all
up, when they discovered and began to express their sexuality.  It seems to
me the Church is full of bloody gay haters."

"I don't know that I could do that.  I hope it will not be necessary.  My
faith means too much to me.  You may find this difficult to understand.  In
telling you I run the risk of sounding a pious goody goody.  At the heart
of my faith there is a living relationship.  Jesus means more to me than
merely being a person who lived nearly 2000 years ago.  Who did wonderful
things: taught wonderful truths, and ended up dying on a cross.  He did
those things.  But I feel that....  no, I want a stronger word than feel.
I know that I know him.  I relate to him as a person.  For me he is alive
and true.  I relate to him.  I run the risk of sounding sentimental.  There
is a real sense in which I love him, and I know that he loves me.....Sorry
about that.  I did not mean to preach a sermon.  But that is the only way I
can answer your question."

They walked on for a moment before Anton responded.  "That's all right.  I
don't feel preached at.  I don't understand, at least from my personal
experience, what you are talking about.  It obviously means a lot to you.
I respect you for it.  I think it cost you something to tell me.  Thank
you."

They walked on in silence for a few moments.  Then Peter asked, "What about
you?  Do you have any religious background?"

"No, fuck all.  My mother was brought up a Roman Catholic of sorts.  I
think she went to mass up until she got married.  They got married in a
church.  I think Dad did that just to please Mum, and her family.  But once
married my father knocked it out of her.  Though he was never a member of
the communist party, there was a lot of communist ideology in him. For him
religion was the opiate of the people.  I think my mother had to put up
with a withering barrage of ridicule and abuse until she stopped her church
going.  Even then Dad frequently condemned religion in all its shapes and
forms.  I have hardly ever been inside a church.  Does that shock you?"

"No, not at all.  It's interesting.  I will have to try and convert you!"
They both laughed.

"You have not answered my original question.  How do you reconcile your
faith and your sexuality?  How are you beginning to see your way forward?"

"One of the things that I have come to realise since coming up to
University and meeting other people, is that there are many very sincere
and good Christians, who do not go all the way with me over matters of
doctrine and so on.  There is a theolog, that is a student studying
theology, who is in the same hall as me.  He too is a member of the Church
of England.  He wants to become a priest.  He seems to me to be almost a
Roman Catholic.  When we talk together about churchy things, we disagree a
lot.  When we talk about doctrine, sometimes we agree, sometimes we don't.
But when we talk about what our faith means to us, though we use slightly
different language.  He's the same as me.  To use the words that I used a
few minutes ago, we both love Jesus, and we believe that Jesus loves us
both.  Meeting this guy, and talking to him, has been an eye opening
experience for me."

"I see."

"But there is something else.  When I was beginning to sort myself out, I
went to talk to Ben and Clive.  They were unable to help me on the religion
versus sexuality issue.  But Clive fixed it up for me to meet Ron, the
chaplain at your hospital."

"I didn't know you knew him."

"I had a long talk with him.  He pointed out some of the inconsistencies in
my own position.  He also pointed to a way forward.  A fresh way, at least
a fresh way for me, of looking at what the Bible says."

They now came to Canning Circus, where they turned down Derby Road, back
into town.  Peter now put a question to Anton, "Tell me about your time in
Leeds, it sounds as though it was an important time."

"It was in every way.  It was the first time I'd had a room, with time and
space, to myself.  I thoroughly enjoyed that, though I did find it a bit
strange at first.  Then there was the work, I enjoyed it, and worked hard,
and did quite well.  But I expect it is the sexual side you are really
wanting to know about.  Am I right?"

"Yes, you spoke about books from the library, but surely it was not all
head knowledge."

"You are right.  I had my first sex with a fellow student nurse.  I think
he seduced me, though I was willing to be seduced.  Our affair, if you call
it that, lasted for about eighteen months.  Then he got a job in Bristol,
and moved down there.  That was the end of it.  Since then I have had one
or two brief relationships, nothing lasting."

They made their way back to the Old Market Square, and decided they were in
need of another drink.

"Let's not go back to Rutters, it will be crowded and noisy at this time of
the evening.  I don't want a pick up tonight.  So let's go the Trip to
Jerusalem, beneath the castle."

They made their way again across town and Maid Marian Way, to Castle
Boulevard.  The air seemed closer and heavier than ever.  Again they were
deep in conversation.  When they went to cross Wheeler Gate Anton grabbed
Peter's arm, so that they crossed together.  It was their first physical
contact.  Peter smiled at Anton.

Anton asked about gay life at the University, and Peter's reply was largely
based on Raymond's account of what was going on.  He also told Anton about
George Riley, and the difficulty he had faced not knowing how to deal with
the taunts.  They then discussed various aspects of homophobia.  When they
arrived at the Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem, Peter went in first, and held the
door open for Anton.  As Anton went through Peter gave his back a gentle
pat.  Again grins were exchanged.

Though it was by now getting late, the bar was still fairly crowded.  Peter
made his way through and ordered a couple of bitters.

"I can sure do with that," said Anton downing most of it in one go, and
wiping the froth from his mouth with the back of his hand.

They stood around.  They made snatches of conversation, but real talking
was difficult in the bar.  The atmosphere became slightly awkward between
them.  Both felt a significant moment was approaching, neither wanted the
evening to come to an end.

Anton filled one pause, "Have another? "

Peter nodded, and Anton now made his way through to the bar and came back
with a couple of pints.  They stood, and drank.  The words became fewer.

"Would you like to come back to my place?" asked Anton.

Peter paused before answering.  He knew what would be involved.  He knew he
would soon be missing the last bus, and after that, it was a three mile
walk back to hall.  He nodded slowly.  "Yes.  I'd like to."

They finished their drinks, and Anton took the empty glasses and went to
put them on the bar.  In the few seconds that Anton was gone, Peter
thought.  `Yes, if ever he was to cross the sexual Rubicon, Anton was
someone he would like to do it with, and now was as good a time as any.  It
would confirm his sexuality one way or the other.'

Anton returned, they smiled.  Anton signified the door with his open hand.
They left the Olde Trip to Jerusalem.

"I live in a small flat in the Park.  As you probably know it is a large
estate of large private houses, built by the lace makers of Nottingham in
the last century.  Most of the large spacious houses have been converted
into flats.  I live in the attic flat, if you can call it that, in one of
the large houses.  The ground floor is one flat, where the landlord lives.
He is a very prosperous solicitor.  The next floor is divided into two
flats.  One is occupied by a couple of school teachers, and the other by a
young married couple, I don't know what they do.  The attic rooms are
divided into two very small apartments, you cannot really call them flats.
It suits me down to the ground being at the top of the house.  It is fairly
quiet during the day, and I need that to sleep when I am on nights."

They were soon at Anton's; 17 Devonshire Crescent East.  Anton led the way
through the front gate, and then round to the side of the house.  "We use
the old servant's staircase to get to all the flats."  He unlocked a door,
and pushed on the light.  It was one of those with a time mechanism.
"There is just comfortable time to get to the top."  They made their way up
the stairs.  Anton unlocked one of the doors at the top, switched on the
light, and stood back for Peter to enter.

The room that Peter entered was of moderate size.  It was furnished with a
single bed in one corner, a table and three hard chairs.  There was one
very comfortable looking easy chair, a wardrobe, and some book shelves.  On
a small side table was a CD player, with a stack of CDs.  There was also a
small television.  Off the main room was a large alcove, which was the
kitchen recess.  Peter could see the usual paraphernalia, fridge, cooker,
and even a washing machine.  Along side the kitchen recess was a very small
bathroom, shower, hand basin and loo.  The apartment was made attractive,
and given character by two windows, on opposite sides of the room.  Anton
had made the room attractive by putting up some colourful posters.  One of
which perhaps, revealed his sexuality.  It was of a young man standing
naked, up to his thighs in water fishing.  It was a back view, but the man
was turning so that his face could be seen.

Anton saw what Peter was looking at.  "Like it?"

"Yea.  Great.  I was just thinking that I could not have that up at home,
or in hall, without giving the game away."

"The loo etc. are in there," said Anton, showing Peter.

"Yes, I need that."  Peter disappeared into the tiny bathroom.  When he
came back into the main room, he found that Anton had opened both windows
as wide as possible.  A very slight movement of air began to drift through
the room, but it brought very little relief to the prevailing heat.  Anton
handed Peter a can of bitter and then made his way into the loo.  Peter
flopped down into the easy chair, sprawling with his legs out.  Anton
returned and stood for a moment looking down at Peter.  They smiled.  Again
the atmosphere became awkward.  Both knew what was on the mind of the
other, but neither knew how to break the barrier that was forming between
them.

"The only trouble with this place is the water tank for the whole house is
behind that wall, so you get the noise of the water pipes.  But you get
used to that."

There was another pause.

"Would you like something to eat?" asked Anton, more for something to say.

"No, I'm all right.  Thank you."

There was another silence.  Anton knelt, and then sat on the floor cross
legged in front of Peter.

"I have got something that I ought to tell you," said Peter.  "A sort of
confession."  He paused.  "I have never done anything like this before.  I
have never had any form of sex with any other person."

Anton got back on to his knees, and kneeling closely in front of Peter put
his forearms on Peter's knees.  "I wondered what you were going to say for
a moment.  Thank you for telling me.  I had wondered from what you did not
say while we were talking.  I am not an expert.  At the moment, for
starters, I want to give you a hug and a kiss.  But it is so damn awkward
with that chair you are in; I don't know how to begin."

"That is what I would like."

Anton stood up, and took Peter's hand and gently raised him to his feet.
Anton leant forward and kissed Peter gently on the lips.  As he pulled
slightly back, Peter responded by leaning forward and kissing Anton.  This
time it was not so gentle.  The barrier was broken.  Both pairs of arms
came up, and embraced the other one.  They squeezed each other.  They
laughed quickly, and then kissed deeper.  Their tongues made contact.
Anton's hands began to stroke Peter's back, each stroke a little lower,
until his buttocks were being given a gentle fondle. Anton directed Peter
towards the bed.  As if directed by a single mind, both bent down and
removed their shoes.  Anton lay down on the bed, and signaled for Peter to
lie at his side.  They kissed, and kissed, and hands again began to explore
backs.

"I'm getting a hard on," confessed Peter.

"So am I.  But plenty of time for that.  All night.  Is this really your
first time?"

"Yes, really."

"If I start doing something you don't want to do, just say `no' or `stop'.
We have a whole night ahead of us to enjoy each other."  He gave Peter
another deep tonguing kiss.  His hands began to caress Peter's head and
neck, and then began to undo the shirt buttons, so that his hands could
explore chest and nipples. It was a completely smooth and hairless chest.
When the shirt was completely undone, Peter sat up and Anton removed it
completely, and threw it aside.  Anton's kisses now began to go where his
hands had already gone.

After a while Peter began to take action.  All the evening he had been
fascinated by the profusion of black hair that was revealed by the
unbuttoned collar of Anton's shirt.  As he undid the shirt, he discovered
that the hair became even thicker.

"You're a hairy one."

"I know.  It's in the genes.  My father and brothers are all the same.  I
hope you don't mind."

"Not at all.  It's great."  Peter rubbed his fingers through the thick
hairs of Anton's chest..

They continued to kiss, and hug and caress each other.

Anton's hands began to feel through the trousers.  He lightly grasped
Peter's cock.  "That feels good."  They smiled.  Again they kissed, and
hugged each other.  Now Anton pulled down the zip on Peter's jeans.  His
hand went in and began to fondle Peter's very hard and erect cock through
his underpants.

"I'm near cumming" said Peter.  He pulled away and sat up, then he pulled
off his jeans, and they were thrown to one side.  When he turned back he
began to do the same to Anton, who just lay back and enjoyed it all.  Peter
tugged off Anton's jeans, and threw them on top of his own.  Now both hands
were at each other's cocks.  Anton then pulled off Peter's pants, and threw
them on top of the growing pile of discarded clothing.  He then pulled off
his own.  They clung to each other.  The narrowness of the bed stopped them
rolling over each other, but their hairy legs entwined.  They tried to get
even closer to each other in a ferment of tongues, lips, arms and legs and
two cocks pressed closely together.

Anton broke away, twisting and kneeling on the bed he took Peter's rampant
cock in his mouth.  That was it.  Nothing more was needed.  Peter came in a
copious load into Anton's mouth.  He lay back enjoying the sensation.

"I'm sorry I came so quickly.  I'm sorry I came in your mouth.  I couldn't
do anything about it."

"Stop saying sorry," said Anton giving Peter a wet spunky kiss.  "I'm not
sorry you came.  And certainly not sorry you came in my mouth.  You taste
great.  I'll be wanting more, lots more."

They lay back facing each other.  Peter's cock rapidly going flaccid,
Anton's still erect and hard.  "Don't feel you have to do the same to me.
I know you have never done it before."

"I'll have a go," said Peter, in his turn kneeling on the bed.  He kissed
Anton's mouth, and then slowly, gently with many light kisses, he moved
down Anton's body.  By the time he reached the erect cock, Anton was in a
state of high arousal.  Peter kissed Anton's cock several times, and then
took it in his mouth.  It was not there long before Anton came.

They both lay back exhausted, looking at each other.  Occasionally touching
each other.  Occasionally kissing each other.

"That was a first too for me."

"How?  In what way?"

"It was the first time I have made love to a man with a cut prick.  Were
you circumcised as a kid, or as an adult?  We used to have the occasional
man in hospital for circumcision because his foreskin was too tight."

"It was done as a baby.  The doctor thought I was too tight.  My brother is
uncut."

They held each other's cock.  Each wondering what it was like to have one
like the other, and whether there was any real difference.

"Would you like another drink?"

"Yes, please.  That was thirsty work."

Anton got off the bed, walked over to the fridge, and removed another
couple of cans of bitter. "I am afraid that is the end of my beer supply.
It will have to be tea, coffee, or water from now."

They both sat on the edge of the bed.  Their sides were touching.  Neither
wanted to break from the closeness with the other.  The room continued to
feel breathless and hot. Drinks finished, Anton got up and pulled off the
duvet, on which they had made love.  He went to a cupboard and got out a
sheet.  "I think we will only need this to cover us."

He turned off the light.  Their eyes soon adjusted to the afterglow of a
late summers evening in the sky, and the street lights which were shining
below.

They both got back into bed; they hugged and kissed several times, and then
fell asleep.

-0---0---0- 33.

About two hours later Peter slowly returned to consciousness.  He opened
his eyes, and the flicker of lightening and the distant rumble of thunder
showed him why he had awoken.  They were lying like a couple of spoons side
by side.  He could hear Anton's steady, deep sleep breathing, and feel the
warmth of his breath on his neck.  He could feel a slight tickle of hairs
on his back.  Their legs touched.  He also thought he could feel Anton's
limpid cock resting against his right buttock.  An arm lay sprawled over
his side.  Peter felt completely at ease.

The lightning flashed, and there was a further rumble of thunder.  Peter
started to count slowly between the sight and the sound, as he used to as a
child.  Yes, the storm was coming nearer.  Probably it was moving down the
Trent valley.  Some rain would break the clammy heat of the last few days.
He began to think over the events of the last few hours.  He felt he had
crossed his sexual Rubicon, and he felt secure, at peace, at home.  Perhaps
all things would be well.

He was beginning to drift off to sleep when they were both startled by a
bright flash of lightning, followed immediately with a tremendous crack of
thunder, and the sound of heavy rain.  Anton sat up in bed.  "So the storm
has come.  I must see if there is any rain coming in."  He clambered over
Peter, and made his way across to the windows.  Peter watched as the dim
figure partially closed each window.  Twice it was lit by a fresh flash of
lightning.  "That should be all right."  He clambered back into bed, into
Peter's open arms.

Their second love making was less hurried, more gentle, more exploratory
into the other's likes and dislikes.  They were oblivious to the storm,
with its savage cracks and ponderous rolls of thunder that sounded just
above their heads.  As the storm began to move away, the intervals
lengthened, and the thunder became a distant rumble, they fell into a deep
sleep.

Two hours later they woke again.  The room was bright with the fresh
sunshine of a summer day.  The air felt cooler, and the curtains stirred in
the gentle breeze.

"I could do with a cup of tea," said Anton.

"Same here.  Good idea."

Anton got out of bed, and went over to the kitchen alcove to make the tea.
He got out a packet of biscuits.  Peter watched him.  "I think the Greeks
got it right."

"What do you mean?"

"I think, more than any other race, they saw beauty in the male body.
Watching you move around, and knowing that I have held that body of yours,
I agree with them."

"I have not got a beautiful body.  I am a bloody hairy freak."

"No you are not.  Your hairiness underlines your masculinity."

Anton turned, put out his tongue, and grinned.  "I am glad you like it.
For me my hairiness is a bloody nuisance.  They get all over the place.
Just look where I have been lying."  Peter looked, and yes, there were
quite a number of loose hairs in the bed.  "I have to do something about
them every couple of days, and it's not easy.  I can't use the vacuum
cleaner on the sheet."

He got back into bed, and the two of them sat up together, each with a mug
of hot tea in their hands.  They munched their way through the packet of
biscuits.  They shared their different backgrounds with mutual interest.
Anton had never talked freely and at length to a person from a middle
class, southern background, who spoke with a polished accent, who was
obviously highly intelligent and well read for his age.  Peter had never
really met a Geordie before.  He was now used to the strong accent.  He was
astonished at the hardness of working class life, where every penny had to
be counted.  He had never had to share a bedroom on a regular basis,
certainly not for the first seventeen years of his life.  There had always
been plenty of money in his family.  His father was very generous to him,
giving him well over and above what he had to contribute to his son's
education.  Once Anton had got a job he had never received a penny from his
parents, and did not expect to do so.  Their holidays were so different.
For his age Peter was quite well traveled in Europe, as well as in this
country.  Anton's travels had been limited to bus travel to Newcastle, and
the range of an old push bike.  He had never left the North East until he
moved down to Leeds.

So they talked on.  Sometimes they exchanged a kiss, sometimes a gentle
touch, each delighting in the other.

They heard the distant sound of the clock on the Council House in the Old
Market Square strike 6.00.

"I'll have to be going soon.  I have not even begun to pack."  I have got
to take everything with me, and my mother will be up to collect me, and
will be arriving about 11.00."

"Not too quickly."  He kissed Peter, "Once more, and then you can have a
shower, while I make you a good northern breakfast."

"Black pudding?"

No.  That is the one thing I've not got."

"I've never had black pudding."

"Then next time, I'll certainly get you black pudding.  There will be a
next time, won't there?"

"I certainly hope so.  Though it'll probably not be until the very end of
September, and that'll be if I come up a few days early."

Again they enjoyed each other, and were fulfilled.

It was the sound of seven striking that got Peter moving.  Anton handed him
a towel, and he disappeared into the tiny bathroom.  As he dried himself he
heard the sounds of Anton moving around, and the smell of fried bacon.
When he came out of the bathroom he discovered his clothes in a neat pile
on the bed, with another neat pile alongside.  Anton was still naked.

"I'm usually in the nuddy when alone up here.  I like the feel of
freedom. This morning I seem to have an appreciative audience."

Peter went to put on his clothes.  "Hold on mate!  I too like to feast my
eyes.  Don't spoil it too soon.  It is going to be a very long time until I
can see you again."

It was a full works fried breakfast.  Both were ravenous.  Both enjoyed it.
But words were beginning to become difficult.  They knew the time to part
was getting steadily closer.  There was much that both wanted to say.
Neither of them knew how to say it.  Both feared sounding sloppy and
sentimental.

Breakfast finished, Peter stood up, and gave a sad smile.  "I really must
be going."  He began to get dressed.  Anton watched.  When Peter was fully
dressed, they gave each other a hug, exchanged kisses, neither wanting to
make the break."

"I really must be going."

"Hold on, while I get dressed. I'll come with you to the bus."

The walk to the bus was painful.  Few words were exchanged.  The bus soon
came.  Neither dared show emotion in public in the centre of Nottingham.
There was a fleeting furtive grasp of hands, and then Peter climbed into
the bus.

"See you in September."

The bus began to move.  They waved, and each was left with his thoughts.