Date: Mon, 05 Nov 2001 20:21:54 +0000
From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@hotmail.com>
Subject: Countrymen Part 5.

This is a story containing consenting sex between adult men.  If this
offends you, or is illegal in your country, or you are below the age of
consent, you have been warned.  You would be better to surf on elsewhere.
If you are a regular reader and have written to me,  thank you again for
writing,  and for your comments.   If you wish to contact me please do so at
    jeffyrks@hotmail.com


Resume:-  Phil,  a retired man in his 60s, has met Colin a farmer in his
40s.  They have begun a close sexual friendship.  Colin is a member of a gay
group calling themselves The Countrymen.  Colin is wanting Phil to become a
member.  He has already met Kevin in his 20s and the youngest member of the
group.  The evening before they had a meal together,  and Phil told part of
his story,  and they had a threesome.

The Countrymen  Part 5.

I slept late the next morning.  And when I showered my cock was still saying
that he had had a strenuous time the night before. I  thought over the
considerable change in my life style that the last few weeks had brought.
Sex was no longer a thing of the past for me.  I was now in a vibrant
relationship with two wonderful guys, both eager for get-togethers whenever
possible.

Colin rang early on that Saturday morning,  just to check on how I was.  I
reported that I was fine except for my slightly over employed cock,  and
sore arse.  He laughed and said his cock was the same,  and that his arse
was looking forward to some action.  We arranged that I would go out and
spend the night with him on Thursday.  I walked into town on that Saturday
morning,  to do a little shopping and to have a coffee with a non-gay
friend.   The rest of the weekend went quietly.

It was late on the Monday morning when the phone rang.  It was Kevin.  Was I
going to be in about 3.00pm?  He would call in if possible.

Kevin worked for a firm that dealt with photocopiers.  His job was servicing
them,  or more often rushing around the county doing urgent repair jobs when
something went wrong.  This meant that he could be called away to attend to
some malfunctioning photocopier at a moments notice.  But it also meant that
having done some servicing,  he had nothing else to do except be ready to go
out on call.

He expected to be through with a service not too far from me by about
2.30pm.  He would be on call,  but he'd like to see me.

Just hearing his voice activated my landing gear.  I knew what he would be
wanting,  and I would be wanting the same thing.  My cock became quite stiff
at the thought.

Sure enough,  at 2.45pm  there was a ring on the door bell.  When I opened
it,  in bounced Kevin.  He explained that he was on call,  and that if his
mobile rang  he would have to leave quickly.  We had a quick hug,  and I
offered him a drink.  He asked for coffee,  so we made our way through to
the kitchen.  I put the heating jug on,  and put some instant coffee in a
couple of mugs.

As I was doing this he came up behind me,  and put his hands round me,  and
pressed his crotch into my backside.   I had already worked out what I was
going to do, and had been waiting for him to make the first move.   I turned
quickly  and put my arms round him,  gripping him in a bear hug and pinning
his arms to his side.  We started kissing,  deep tongue fencing kisses.  We
ground our groins together.  I  began to respond,  and felt him harden.
Then in one move I ceased to hug him and went down on my knees.  I unzipped
him,  and put my hand in to find his stiffening cock.  A little bit of
manoeuvring brought his now stiff cock out into the open.  It was there in
its hardened glory.  Nearly seven inches,  with its cheeky curve.  I
immediately placed it in my mouth and proceeded to suck.  He groaned
appreciatively.  I reached up and undid the buckle on his belt,  and the top
clip of his trousers.  I pulled them down so he was just standing in his
shirt and pants.  I had to withdraw my mouth as I pulled down his pants.  I
quickly resumed giving his cock the attention that it was due.

I had not forgotten the skills I had learnt in previous years.  My aim was
to make him cum quickly.  He began to groan,  and then started complaining
that he was going to cum too quickly.  At that point the water began to
boil.  I gently pushed him over towards the water jug and mugs.  He shuffled
across,  and I crawled with him on my knees, keeping my mouth firmly over
his cock.  He poured the water on the coffee.  This done I set to work.  He
tried to make me slow down or stop.  But I was not having any.  He kept
trying to protest.  Then he relaxed,  giving way to the inevitable.  My hand
cupping his balls felt them rise.  His cock seemed to grow even harder and
thicker,  and then  with a great pulsating paroxysm he shot several loads
into my mouth.  I swallowed quickly, not loosing a drop.  Then continued to
suck until the last drop had been savoured in my mouth.

"Phil!  Phil.  That was great.  I have never had such a quick and totally
fulfilling blow job as that.  You've got a great skill."

I stood up and kissed him.  "I don't seem to have lost all my old technique!
  Glad you enjoyed it.  Let's go and drink our coffee in the front room.  I
took the two mugs.  He bent down and pulled up his pants and trousers and
made his way into the font room.  We sat on the settee.  His trousers were
still all undone.

"Thanks again.  I must call in again."

"Any time.  You know you're always welcome."  I gave him a kiss.  We sat
close together with our arms round each other,  breaking only to drink our
coffees.  We discussed Friday evening briefly.

"I can't get over the difference between your time at school and mine," said
Kevin.

"Did you really have a bad time at school?"

"Primary and Junior were fine.  I did quite well,  Enjoyed it.  The trouble
started when I moved up into a much bigger school when I was eleven.  I had
been used to being a big fish in a small pond,  now all of a sudden I was a
very small fish in a very big pond.  One thing may be ties up with what you
said on Friday.  I didn't like football. The boys at the school seemed to be
obsessed with it.  Would play all hours of the day or night given half a
chance. So perhaps I was different because of that.   The trouble for me
started on the school bus.  Living in a small village going to the new
school meant a half hour journey on the school bus.  There was a gang of
older boys that always sat at the back of the bus.  One day coming home, I
heard them talking about me.  'I reckon he's a poof,' said one lad.  It was
the first time I'd heard the word."

"Really?   In this day and age I am surprised you had not heard it before,"
I said.

"You must remember that I had a very sheltered upbringing.  Not just a small
village school.  My parents are church goers.  Dad a churchwarden.  I even
went to Sunday School when I was small,  though we didn't call it that.  My
parents were strict.  I think my not liking football, and going to church
marked me out as different.  I was also small for my age and slightly on the
fat side at that time."

"I find that hard to believe.  You're tall and slim now.  What? Over six
foot?"

"Six foot one in fact.  I shot up in my last couple of years at school,  but
the damage had been done by then."

"Are you an only child?"

"No.  I've got a brother some ten years older than me.  He'd left home and
was finished university when I started at the big school."

"So what happened when you were described as a poof?"

"When I got home I asked my father what a poof was?"

"What happened?"

"He just about hit the roof.  'Where did you pick up such filthy language.
I'll not have such words used in this house,' he shouted.  'But what is a
poof, Dad?  I want to know!'  'A poof is a man who does dirty sexual things
with another man.'   Now I knew the facts of life.  I'd been told them at
school.  So I had a bit of an idea about what they had meant.  But I was
more than a bit mystified.  I was just beginning to get sun risers,  you
know - morning erections.  I had not yet cum.  My father then went on about
it all being disgusting and muttered something about against the teaching of
the Bible.  Somehow I could not ask him more.  I didn't dare tell him I had
been called a poof.  Of course,  he should have enquired more about the
circumstances in which I had heard the word.  I think that episode was the
beginning of a rift between my father and I."

"Did they call you that just the once?" I asked.

"No.  They started picking on me.  I began to dread bus journeys to and from
school.  They were calling me all sorts of other things as well.  Gay!  Fag!
  Faggot! Fairy!  Pansy! Shirt lifter!  Shit prodder! And so on.  I didn't
know what half of the things they said meant. At first they muttered them
under their breaths so only I could hear.  Then they started saying these
things louder and louder.   Then others on thee bus joined in laughing."

"How awful for you."

"One of the worst things that happened was with a friend of mine.  We had
been to the village school together.  We'd gone to each other's parties.
We'd go round to each others houses to play. We were good friends.  Somehow
or another they found out that he'd been to my place during the weekend.
They started questioning him.  'What did you get up to then?'  'A lot of
getting up, I bet.'   'Did he get it up your bum?'  'Or did you prod his
shit?'  'Which way does he like it?'  Each comment greeted with a gale of
laughter.  they thought it was all very funny.  That was the end of that
friendship for me.  He didn't speak to me for at least three months after
that."

"Had you ever done anything sexual with each other?"

"No way. It was a totally innocent friendship between two young boys.  I
think the closest we ever got to being naughty was pinching a few biscuits
from the biscuit tin when our mothers were out!"

"Kids can be so cruel to each other." I said.

"It all began to have a disastrous effect on me.  I began not just to hate
the journey to school,  but also school itself.  My school work began to
suffer.  I had begun in the first term almost at the top of the class.  Over
that first year or so,  my position in the class slowly sank.  My father got
angry.  He just could not understand what was happening with me.  I couldn't
tell him.  He'd been so angry when I had asked the meaning of the word poof.
The only good thing was that my mother intuitively knew that there was
something going wrong.  She tried to find out several times,  but I dared
not tell her because of Dad.  I knew that she would have similar views to
him.  But she was loving and supportive even in her ignorance of what was
going on.  I increasingly became a misfit at school.  I used to have a
circle of friends,  but now I was a loner.  Nobody wanted to have anything
to do with me.  Of course, one of the things that happened was that over a
period of time I found out what the various words they were using meant.  I
knew I was a victim of homophobic bullying.  Though I  couldn't have used
that sort of term in those days."

"Couldn't anything be done at school.  Bullying and all that sort of thing.
Schools are supposed to be on the watch out."

"Most of it was verbal.  That is much more difficult to deal with than
physical abuse.   Once in class there was a discussion about prejudice.  The
teacher asked about different sorts of prejudice.  Various examples were
made.  Racial prejudice,  class prejudice,  religious prejudice and so on.
The teacher commented on each example that was given,  and how dangerous and
wrong it was.  I dared to mention anti  gay prejudice.  The teacher just
looked at me and said, 'Yes!'"

"Nothing more?"

"No;  nothing more."

"Why was that do you think?"

"It was that bloody Clause 28.  He was just scared of saying anything about
homosexuality because he was afraid of saying something that could be seen
as promoting homosexuality,  which would have been a contravention of Clause
28.  I think I can claim to be one of those who were victims of Clause 28.
Thank God that it has been repealed."

"Did anything else happen?"

"There was one other big incident.  I must have been about thirteen.  I'd no
friends at all.  So I used to go off on a cycle rides by myself.  It was a
lovely autumn day,  when the sun was shining,  and the leaves were turning
brown,  and beginning to flutter down in the wind.  I was cycling down this
hill.  It was not particularly steep in any way,  but the road twisted and
turned quite a bit.  I came round one particular corner and there coming up
the road with their bikes were about five of the main trouble makers.
Remember they were two or three years older than me,  and considerably
bigger.  I slammed on my brakes,  intending to turn round and return up the
hill."

"What happened?"

"When they saw me that all called out.  Things like,  'Here's our school
pansy.'  'He's out looking for some brown.'  As I stopped they were on to
me.  The biggest guy,  a tall strong chap lifted me off my bike.  Another
one picked up my bike and threw it in to a ditch at the side of the road.
They hauled me into a small wood at the side of the road. They pushed me
around from one to another.  Then one of them said, 'Now's our chance.  Let
see what sort of cock a fairy like him has.'  The big guy grabbed me round
the chest while the others started to work on anything from my waist down.
I tried to kick them away.  But my shoes and socks came off and were thrown
to one side.  They tried to pull off my trousers.  But my belt was fastened.
  'Undo his fucking belt, you silly twits,'  said the big guy who was
holding me.  One of them undid my belt and they pulled my trousers off.
This was greeted with a cheer,  and they were thrown to one side.  'And his
pants,' said the big guy again.  He was really their leader.  My pants were
pulled off and thrown to one side.  They looked at me and laughed.  'What a
tidly little one.'   'Do you think all fairies have tiny ones,' said
another.  'Course they have.  How would they get it up another's bum.  All
queers have small cocks.'  'I wonder if we can make it go hard,  then we
will really see what its like.'  'I shouldn't touch it.  You don't know how
many arses its been up.'   'Looks as if its just been up some guys bum,'
said another.  'I know what to do,' said another.  He walked away and found
some cow shit.  Then picking up a stick and got as much of the cow shit on
it as he could.  Then he smeared it all over my cock and bum.  'I bet that's
how he likes it.'  So they went on.  They were not gentle.  The big guy let
go of me.  'I don't like poofs,' he said.  And he hit me in the stomach.  I
bent double and they all started laying in to me.  Soon my nose was
bleeding,  and afterwards I had a black eye.  Then laughing and having had
their fun they went off.

"Did you tell your folk what had happened."

"I eventually got my clothes back on.  I sat on the damp ground just crying.
  Then I began to think what to do.  I thought about telling my parents,
but I knew there would be an inquest.  What had happened?  Why had they
pitched into me?  What was the reason?  I remembered my father's reaction.
I did not think I could face questions about whether I was gay.  I was by
that stage beginning to think that perhaps I was.   So I decided to say that
I had come off my bicycle.  Wet leaves making the road slippery,  and cow's
shit in the road,  made the story just plausible."

"What happened when you got home."

"Fortunately Dad was out.  Mum was very concerned.  I managed to get into
the bath quickly.  I washed out my pants,  they had a lot of cow muck on
them.  I said that I had forgotten I'd got them on when I got into the bath.
  Dad asked quite a lot of questions when he got back.  He told me to take
more care when I was on the bike,  especially if the road conditions were at
all damp.  I didn't go out for any more cycle rides for quite a while, I can
tell you."

"That's terrible."

"When I got on the bus on the Monday morning with my black eye,  they
started making all sorts of suggestions.  Had someone's cock poked me in the
eye? Had I tried to get off with the wrong bloke?   The big guy said I'd
tried to have sex with him so he'd belted me.  That caused a big laugh.
The only comment at school from a member of staff was just, 'Been in the
wars, son?'  He didn't expect an answer."

"What else did they do to you?"

"That was by far the worst.  But they would frequently punch me, or trip me
up.  There was another time that I remember.  It was after playing games.  I
never really liked games.  We had showers afterwards.  These were usually
supervised by a member of the staff or a school prefect.  They made sure
there was no horse play.  But occasionally for some reason or another,
there would be no one there to supervise.  There were three of the bully
gang there in the shower.  When I went in they started calling out.  'Here
comes the school faggot.'  'Wonder where his cock was last night.'  'Has it
grown since we last saw it?'  I tried to take no notice,  but they kept on.
Some of the other guys around began to join in a bit.  Others were
embarrassed and got out of the shower as soon as they could.  I tried to
make it a quick one.  But then they started pushing and shoving me.  Then
one of them tripped me over.  I fell on the floor.  That really started them
off.  They started kicking me.  The shower then emptied of all except the
three guys.  I lay on the rough floor,  and got quite grazed by it.  It
seemed to go on and on for ages."

"That's terrible," I said.  "What did you do?"

"I curled up as small as I could,  and tried to cover my head with my arms.
I think I bore the marks of the bruises for a good two weeks afterwards.
Suddenly,  they stopped and started showering,  or trying to leave the
shower.  I looked up,  and there was a prefect looking into the showers.
'What's going on here?' he said.  I glanced round.  The guys who had been
doing it were trying to look the other way without looking guilty.   I must
admit I was tempted to sneak on them.  I slowly got on to my feet and said,
'Nothing.  I just slipped over.' I continued to shower.  They looked
relieved.  The prefect said,  'If you expect me to believe that,  you'll
expect me to believe anything.'   He stood there looking around at us, as if
wanting the true explanation.  I kept quiet,  finished showering and left to
get dressed."

"What would have happened had you split on them?"

"I think the prefect would have had to have done something.  But it just was
not on to tell tales.  And anyway,  if I had have done,  life would have
been worse for me.  I was scared of those guys."

Kevin was silent for a moment.  It was as though he was remembering all the
pain and suffering of those school years.   "One little trick they were very
fond of.  Though they did it to a few other guys who they happened to pick
on,  not just to me.  That was in the school loo,  when we were standing at
the urinal, they would push us in the back  so we bumped in against the loo
wall.  Often it was wet, and not just from water from the cistern.  They
just picked on me.  I dreaded going to the loo when I was at school.   Those
middle school years remain in my memory as a long period of pain and tears.
I usually had bruises from them somewhere on my body.  What they did make me
cry, - often.  I often cried myself to sleep.  Then as I got older,  and
eventually bigger the physical abuse eased.  But I was still dead scared of
what might happen.  They were hard days.  I wondered if they would ever end.
  I even wondered about ending it all when times were especially hard.  I
was so lonely."

I gave him a hug,  and we sat in silence for a while.

"Thanks for listening.  Vic is right,  he encourages me to tell  my story.
Some how every time I tell someone  the pain seems a little less.  Thanks
again."   He gave me a kiss.  "There was one good thing however.  On my
fourteenth birthday my parents allowed me to have a dog.  We all went to
choose one from the RSPCA. {Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals}   I liked one,  and asked my Dad what sort of dog it was.   'I
think it is a Heinz dog - 57 varieties,' he replied.  He later explained
that he was refering to the old Heinz advert  boasting of  selling 57
different varieties.  I chose that one and somehow he got stuck with the
name - Heinz.   It gave me something to love,  and Heinz loves me.  He's old
now, and rather infirm, but he's still special.  Of course,  I had to take
him out for walks."

"Weren't you afraid of running into the gang of thugs again," I asked.

"They did not live in my village.  So I knew I was fairly safe in and near
my village.  Everybody there knew me.  Also Heinz would have gone for
anybody who went for me.  He even got anxious and began to growl when Dad
told me off.  I think he would have gone for anybody who tried to lay into
me.  He chased rabbits and squirrels,  and even caught one or two rats.
Going out taking Heinz for walks meant that I soon met up with other dog
owners.  One man I frequently met was the new Rector.  Over the next few
years I got to know him quite well.  We'd walk together and talk.  Our dogs
got to know each other,  and enjoyed romping around together."

"What did you talk  about?  I always feel funny when talking to a parson."

Kevin laughed.  "You'll  soon get over that sort of thing.  We'd talk about
school.  He went to one of those very posh top public schools.  He's got a
very posh accent.  Posher than the Queen's in many ways.  I soon told him
that I was unhappy at school."

"You didn't tell him why, did you?"

"No.  I was scared to do that.  I gave the games excuse.   I was then built
more for comfort than for speed.  He told me a lot about his school days.
His was a boarding school.  Got up to all sorts of tricks.  I think he was
happy at school.   Anyway I'd meet him out walking his dog probably once or
twice a week.  As far as a school boy can,  I got to know him quite well.  I
began to like him,  and realised I could trust him.  That all came about
through walking Heinz.  But that dog's a silly old thing.  He would lie on
his back having his tummy stroked for as long as you were willing to do it.
I think I owe a lot to that old dog."

We sat in silence, but after a few moments, I lifted his shirt,  and pushed
my hand through until I could get hold of his cock.  I gave it a squeeze.
"Did this fella see any action during your school days."

"Only with my hand.  I found the pleasures of wanking at the usual age.  Did
a lot of it.  It was one of the few pleasures I had."

"Did you think about having sex with any of the guys at school?" I asked.

"Not really.  Whenever I could I would glance at their cocks. Watching their
development and comparing it with mine.  But I had to be very careful.  If
I'd been caught the persecution would have been worse than ever.  I was
afraid during the whole of my school days that things would get worse than
they were.  I did not try to attempt anything."  He paused for a moment in
thought.  "But something else happened that was to prove significant in the
long run.  As I have told you I was a church goer.  When I was fourteen I
was confirmed.  There were only three of us in the confirmation class that
time.  The rector had only recently arrived.  We are in a group of a
parishes,  he has five churches.  He's the rector in our parish.  Because
there were only three of us we all got to know him quite well.  The other
two were girls,  so I think he appreciated having me in the class as the
only other male present.  Perhaps he thought I chaperoned him!"

We laughed.

"At the end of the classes each of us had a sort of private interview with
him.  We talked about the classes.  He asked about my faith,  my family.  He
asked about various things.   Then he said that there was always a sort of
special relationship between a the priest who prepares someone for
confirmation and the candidate.  He said any time,  whatever the matter, I
could come to see him,  and anything we talked about would be in complete
confidence.  For some reason or another I remembered those words."

"So when did this wonderful organ of yours first go into action with another
  guy?"

"Well.  As I said, I did nothing during my school days.  But I had found out
about gays.  By the time I left school I was almost certain I was gay.  When
I tossed myself off,  or when I lay fantasizing about sex like one does."

I nodded,  "Yes, like one does!"  We smiled at each other.

"It was always with a another guy.  I had read a bit about it.  I was
noticing things on the television.  There would be occasional articles in
the paper about gays,  and gay life.  I began to put two and two together
and hoped I was  not making five.  I began to realise that there must be
other guys like me.  I reckoned some must have already been having fun,  but
there must be others like me."

"In the closet!"

"Yes, in the closet.  I came across that term and it took me a little while
to work out exactly what it meant.  Remember there was no one I could ask or
talk about it with."

"So what did you do after school?"

"Much to Dads intense disappointment it was soon obvious I would never make
it to university.  My brother had gone, done well and landed a good job
after he had graduated.  It was suggested that I did a practical course for
a couple of years at the Tech." [Technical College]  "The whole set up at
the Tech was much freer and easier.  There was even a small Gay Soc. there."

"Did you join?"

"No I was too scared.  I used to read their notices on the board,  making
sure as much as possible that nobody was watching me.  I was still scared
stiff of what might happen to me if it was known,  at the college, or by my
parents that I was gay."

"You didn't have an experience like Colin with Paul at college?"

"No my experience was very different.  Though life did begin to improve for
me.  I had to have wheels to get into the Tech each day;  so Dad got me a
motor bike,  and promised me a car if I passed at the end of the course.
That bike gave me  freedom.  I was that much older,  considerable bigger.  I
was no longer the runt in the litter.  I even made some friends,  I was
surprised when for the first time a guy asked me if I was going for a drink
with the a group of them.  I was just not used to being treated by my own
age group as a human being.  All this helped me to become more self
confident.   Then there was the work.  I not only began to enjoy the work,
I started  to do quite well.  Even my old man was pleased with my progress.
In the second year when I told them at home about some mark I'd got, or
remark by one of the lecturers, he'd mutter about having to save up to buy a
car for me.  Mum used to give me a smile and a wink when he said such
things.  On the sexual side I just kept my ears and eyes open.  I
discovered what cruising meant.  What a cottage was.  I learnt that there
were gay pubs and clubs.  And even that there were saunas where gay men
went."

"Did you go to any of them?"

"No.  I was too frightened."

"So no action for this wonderful guy during your Tech. years?" I said giving
his cock another gentle squeeze.

"No none!"

"So what happened after Tech?"

"I got a job working for this photocopier firm.  I went around with an
experienced guy for two months,  and then went on a training course.  This
was held down at the company's factory and headquarters on London's North
Circular Road.  It was a four week course,  to get to know the ins and outs
of the various machines that they make.  They put up the eight of us on the
course in a fairly cheap hotel nearby."

"Were there any lasses trained?"

"No it was all men.  Something very interesting and significant happened on
about the third day.  There was one chap on the course,  who was a real loud
mouth.  Out spoken about this and that.  Full of prejudices.  He was anti
almost every minority group.  He reminded me of the large lad who had been
the bane of my life at school.  The inevitable happened.  One day he started
sounding off about gays.  Out it was all coming,  the usual torrent of
ignorant bigotry.  I felt terrible.  Here we go again.  The old fears began
to sweep through me.  I almost began to feel the pain and bruises of my
school days again.  Then another guy on the course.  A very ordinary guy;
though slightly older than the rest of us.  Quiet guy;  I'd hardly noticed
him before.   Said  very softly 'I'm gay and I find your remarks offensive."
  The bully exploded in a lot of splutter,  and started shouting that gays
ought to be locked up as they were a threat to kids on the street.  The
usual stuff.    The other guy still very quietly said to him, 'Stop making a
fool of yourself.  You are speaking in total ignorance of the facts."    The
bully  looked round for support from others in the group.  I think the bully
would have liked to have landed a few punches.  But he realised he needed to
try and behave in an adult way.   'I can't stand men who want to stick their
cocks up the arses of other men,  when there are good bird's cunts ready
made for that purpose.'  The quiet guy just said,  'Did you know only 30% of
gay men practise anal sex;  and 15% of straight men practice anal sex at
times with women?'   'I don't believe it,' said the bully.  'It was all in a
copy of the lancet a few months back,' said the other guy.  'So that means
that there are more stright guys practising  anal sex that gay guys.  You
are more likely than me to have practised anal sex.  And if you have,  you
did it,  when a cunt, as you so delicately put it,  was readily available.'
The bully again appealed to the rest of us.  But all he got from several of
the other guys was ,  'Lay off, mate.  We're at the end of the twentieth
century not in the bloody dark ages.  If he's gay, let him be gay.  He's not
trying to make us gay.  But you're trying to make him straight.'   The quiet
guy then spoke again to the bully,  'Do you know that this company we work
for has an equal opportunities clause in its mission statement? Something
about, with no prejudice with regards to gender, race, religion or sexual
orientation?'   The other guy just opened his mouth in amazement.  'Also,  I
guess you have never ever spoken reasonably to a gay man,  and tried to find
out what it is all about and  like to be gay.  If, and when, you are ready,
I would be willing to enlighten  you.'   The bully then went off, muttering
something about 'bloody perverts.'

"What was your reaction to that?"

"I was bloody gob smacked!   Here was a gay man saying openly that he was
gay,  in front of a group of men he hardly knew,  one of whom was strongly
homophobic.  I must have stood there with my mouth open in amazement."

"He certainly had some guts, coming out like that!"

"I think what also surprised me was his calmness  and assurance.  He was a
man at peace with himself,  and at ease with his sexuality."

"Did anything else happen?"

"We were frequently divided into twos to do various things.  They kept
shifting us around,  so you might be with one guy for the first half of the
morning,  and another later.  The time I was with the bully guy,  Patrick
was his name,  I felt a bit uneasy.  But it went off all right."

"Were you paired with the gay man?"

"Oh yes! Several times."

"Did you say anything?"

"Yes,  I said I admired his guts in the way he'd handled Pat.   He said
something about bullies needing to be stood up to.  When he said that a
picture came into my mind of a twelve year old boy on his bicycle with a
group of homophobic louts ahead of him. I wondered what I could have done
then.   He then asked me,  'Where do you stand on these things?'  With some
hesitation I answered, 'I don't know.'  He looked somewhat surprised, and
then said,  'In what way don't you know?'  I swallowed and decided to take
the plunge,  'I don't not whether I'm gay or not.  I suspect that I am."  He
looked even more surprised,  'I was just asking whether you were as anti gay
as Pat or where you stood.  But if you want to talk about your uncertainties
at any time,  I possibly could be of help.'   I thanked him and said that
I'd think about it."

"Did you?"

"I thought about it over that first weekend.  And next time we were paired
off,  I told him I'd like to talk.   So that evening we went out and found a
quiet pub and sat talking in a corner.  'What makes you think you might be
gay?' he asked.   I told him what had happened at school,  my fantasies of
sex with other guys.  My fears and my desires.   He then asked me if I liked
myself.  I found that a strange and difficult question to answer.  'Why do
you ask that?' I said.  'Because too many gay men do not really like
themselves.  If you don't like yourself you are in real trouble if you are a
gay man.  Self loathing, self pity,  guilt and so on.  If you don't like
yourself,  other people will find it hard to like you.  So what do you think
about yourself,  as a man,  and with that body of yours?'  I tried to answer
his question,  but I was confused.  Looking back on it,  I am not sure that
I did like myself.  He asked me if I was loved,  really loved by anybody.  I
said I knew my dog loved me and I thought my mother loved me,  but was
unsure when it came to my father.  'Brothers and sisters?'  I told him I had
just one brother who was ten years older than me,  who I'd never been close
to.  'Friends?'  I told him I was just beginning to have a few friends.  'Do
they know about your sexual uncertainty?'   'No way.  I'd be scared to tell
them.'   'Understandable,  after all you've been through,' he said, 'but you
have no real deep friends if you cannot share that.'  We talked for  a good
couple of hours.   'I don't know if I've been of any help,' he said.
'You've certainly given me a lot to think about,  and that must be good,' I
replied."

"Did anything further happen with him?" I asked.

"When it came to the second weekend  he asked if I would like to go up to
London with him,  and he'd show me round the gay part.  He promised I
wouldn't need to get involved in any action - unless I really wanted to.  He
said that it might help me sort myself out."

"So you went with him up to London?"

"Yes,  we had a good, and for me very interesting, time.  Round Soho mainly.
  We had a good meal in a predominately gay restaurant.  Most of the tables
being occupied by two men or occasionally four.  We went into a couple of
gay bookshops,  that was interesting."

"Buy anything?"

"Yes,  some books.  Porny books.  And my first copy of Gay Times.  We went
into a couple of gay bars,  and also a tiny gay cinema,  showing some very
hot stuff.  There was a lot going on there."

"Did you get involved?"

"No."

"Did he?"

"No.  But the evening gave me an opportunity to find out a lot about him,
his journey of self discovery, his first sexual encounters.  He had been
living with a guy for a couple of years,  but they had broken up a few
months before.  This new job for him was a part of the rebound.  I learnt a
lot about gay life,  and the gay scene from that day with him."

Kevin paused before continuing.  "There was something else that happened on
that training course.  This guy,  Steven was his name,  mentioned that he
had trained as a masseur a few years before.  He still did it,  though as a
part time occupation.  He said he couldn't bear the thought of massaging
bodies for money all his working life.  He wanted to be able to pick and
choose who he massaged.  He offered to give me one.  When I hesitated before
answering, he said,  'I know what you're thinking.  You frightened I'll try
and have sex with you?'  I grinned at him and nodded.   'I tell you what,'
he said,  'I will give you a massage and the rule is even if you want sex,
there will be no sex.  If you want sex,  it will only take place at least
twenty four hours after the massage session. And that will be your choice.
I don't want to be thought taking advantage of you.'     I grinned at him
again,  'What happens if I get a hard on?'   'You get a hard on!  So what?
Just say to me I'm getting a hard on,  acknowledge it.  I might get one,  I
would just say,  I've got a hard on.  We both then know and are not trying
to hide it from the other.  'Will you want me naked?'   'We'll do it
professionally.  Your interesting parts will be covered with a towel.  I
massage to the tops of your legs,  and down to your navel.  Your equatorial
regions are strictly out of bounds.'

"Did you?"

"Yes.  One evening in the final week.  We did it in my room.  He made me
undress and lie on the floor,  with a towel over my tummy and cock.  He went
out of the room while I got undressed.  We had to do it on the floor so he
could get right round me,  he said that at home he'd got a proper sort of
couch,  like an operating table.  When he got back into the room he told me
to relax.  He oiled up his hands and began to massage me."

"What was it like?  I've never had an all over massage."

"It was great.  He said very little.  Just told me at a certain stage to
turn over on to my front.  He even held the towel  so it was covering me the
whole time.  I don't think he even got a glimpse of my cock."

"Did you get a hard on?"

"No.  I was totally relaxed,  and thoroughly enjoyed it.  The only bit he
really concentrated on was on my neck and shoulders.  He said there was a
lot of tension there.  When he'd finished he made me turn on to my back
again.  He said I was to lie there relaxed for as long as I liked.  He was
going to leave me,  and get a drink in the bar.  He'd see me there."

"No sex?"

"No sex.  I lay there.  I was totally relaxed.  I think I went off to sleep
for a few minutes.  Eventually I roused myself, dressed,  and went down to
the bar.  We talked for about an hour over a couple of bitters."

"Did you later in the week?"

"No.  But I think that massage was important for me.  It made me appreciate
my body.  I think I began to like and accept myself."

"So when did this cock of yours first see live action with another guy?"   I
gave his cock another squeeze.

He reached over and began to unzip my jeans.  He put his hand in and felt
around for my cock.

"My first live encounter,  was while working on a call."

At that moment his mobile went.  "Bloody hell.  It always goes at the wrong
moment."  He fished around in his  pocket for his mobile.  He answered it.
"Yes I can be there in about twenty minutes," he said.

He turned to me.  "I'm  sorry.  I've got to be off.  Let me give you a quick
blow job."  He pulled my cock out,  and began to suck.

"Thanks Kev.  I know I gave you a very quick one.  Let's save it up for next
time."   I felt his tongue probing my slit.  "You can owe it to me.  I'm
already looking forward to next time."

He pulled his head away.  "You sure?"

I nodded.

"Until next time then!"

We began to make ourselves respectable.

"Yes.  It'll make me look forward to the next time even more.  But remember
I'm going to be away for the next two weeks.   I get back on  Sunday
fortnight."

"Visiting family again."

"Yea.  This time its house minding,  dog walking,  and feeding the
goldfish."

"Have fun.  But be careful not to put back your qualification for the
Countrymen."

"What do you mean?"

"Hasn't Colin explained it all to you.  We practise safe sex if we have fun
with anyone outside.  But not with those inside.  Colin are I used condoms
with you last week because you are not yet a Countryman.  To become a
Countrymen you have to prove yourself free of the dreaded plague HIV,  by
testing negative twice with a four month interval between the tests,  and no
unprotected sex in between.  Because you haven't had any sex for several
years,  you will only need one test.  So don't blot your copy book while you
are away."

"Not very likely.  But I'll be counting the days until I can get back with
you and Colin."

"And the others."  Kevin looked at his watch.  "I must fly.  They'll be
wanting to close up shop before I have finished repairing their machine."

We had a quick kiss,  and he was gone.