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An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 01

By: WittePiet



[Most of the characters in this story have appeared in my previous stories, but you do not need to have read them. This is my first story written in the third person. It tells of two gay couples and an Italian boy who is in search of love and adventure in the English university city of Camford. As usual with my stories, some places and institutions are real, others are fictitious.] 

Chapter One: Sandro arrives in Camford

On a beautiful summer afternoon in July, 20—, Alessandro Mascagnoli got off the train in Camford station. Sandro was 19 years of age and had successfully made the journey on his own from the small town where he lived in northern Italy to London-Gatwick airport via Valerio-Catullo-Villafranca airport. From Gatwick he had taken the train to Camford, a trip involving a confusing train journey through the centre of London. It was less than a year since he had last been in Camford, but then he had been brought by his parents for his grandparents' fortieth wedding anniversary, and his cousin Luca's civil partnership ceremony.

Sandro had grown up very close to both his parents. As a teenager he had never felt rebellious, and his discovery at the age of about 16 that the man whom he had always regarded as his father, Massimo Mascagnoli, was not his biological father, instead of creating a barrier between them, actually drew him closer, as he was old enough to recognize the kindness and nobility of a man who could marry a pregnant woman and bring up her child at his own. Surprisingly too, this revelation did not alienate him from his mother Dorotea, but drew him closer to her as he felt full of sympathy for a woman who had been so deceived. However, he nourished a lingering deep-seated venomous contempt for the man who had twice seduced her. The unexpected visit to the family of his hitherto unknown English brother, Luca, whom he had always thought was his cousin, had precipitated his mother's revelation of his parenthood. Meeting Luca and his relatives may have made Sandro wonder more about the world outside his home-town. 

At school, he had had friendships with boys and girls of his own age but nothing really close. His closest friends had all been boys, but this did not stop him from looking with interest and excitement at some of the girls in his class at school, many of whom were very pretty. So it was with a sense of adventure and uncertainty about himself and particularly about his sexuality, that he had set out in great excitement, having surmounted the rather considerable barrier of gaining admission to a foreign university, the University of Camford. Apart from his family, there was no-one whom he really regretted leaving.

Sandro's intention was to matriculate in October at Saint Boniface's College to read engineering, but in the meantime he had been enrolled by his uncle on a so-called intensive course of English language at one of the numerous private language schools with which Camford is well endowed. It was not that he did not know English: he had been brought up as bilingual, as his mother was English and his father Italian. However, his pronunciation left a lot to be desired and his knowledge of English grammar was rather fuzzy. Moreover the College had insisted that he sit the Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL) and get the maximum grade.

His biological uncle David Singleton-Scarborough, Luca's adoptive father, however, would not be there in Camford. He had recently started spending the summer months in the Dutch town of Heemstede, near Haarlem, where he was teaching singing and and having recording sessions for Philips. Accordingly, David's partner, Luca's cofather, Jonathan Singleton-Scarborough, would be keeping house for Sandro in their flat in Fountain Street until the Martinmas term began. It was a testimony to Jonathan's deep love for David that he had separated himself from his partner for two months in order to oblige the needs of David's extended family. 

The bag that Sandro was carrying, together with a large backpack, comprised only part of his luggage. The remainder would be sent by an international road delivery service at some unspecified date in the future. Jonathan met him at the station and they loaded the two pieces of luggage into the back of the 4x4. Jon then drove them to Fountain Street. He never ceased to marvel at the resemblance between Sandro and his own adopted son, Luke, or Luca he was called by his Italian relations. This was scarcely surprising, as they were biological brothers. Both boys had long, very black wavy hair, both were tall and thin, and both were very brown-skinned.

Sandro had been assigned the small bedroom formerly occupied by David and Jon's daughter Cathy. Cathy, who still had another year of study at Oxbridge University, had insisted on being upgraded to the other spare bedroom as soon as her brother and Tom had moved out, mainly because she wanted the en-suite bathroom. However, she was currently staying with one of her friends in Scotland. By the time unpacking was complete, it was turned six o'clock, and Jon and Sandro went out to eat at the Sparrowhawk, a pub close by the flat in Fountain Street. 

On the way to the pub, Jonathan said to him, "Non parlamo Italiano! From now on, I will no longer speak Italian to you. Everything you say must be in English. If you don't know the words, think of a different way to say the same thing in words that you do know. If that's impossible, then ask me in English what the word you need is, and I will tell you. But the only way for you to get really good at speaking English is never to use your native language. I will try, when we are together, to try and improve your pronunciation. You know most of the words, but you don't always say them in the right way. English is much harder to pronounce than Italian, because there are very few rules, and words are often not spoken the way they are spelt. Every evening before you go to bed, I will allow you to talk to me in Italian for not more than half an hour, just so that you can relax before you go to sleep."

It was unfortunate for Sandro that his brother Luca, whom everyone who did not know the secret of the two boys' parenthood thought was his cousin, was not around to welcome him. Luca had just gone to live in Italy with his partner Tom Appleton, where they had recently got jobs in the city of Trabizona. Sandro did not know his uncle David's partner very well, they had only met about twice, but he felt that he was going to get on well with this elderly man whom his uncle loved so much. The guy, even though he was approaching sixty, seemed to understand the feelings of teenagers. 

This feeling of Sandro's was strengthened when they reached the pub. "As you're 19," said Jon "it's quite legal for you to drink alcohol, so I am going to buy you some English beer. I don't know whether you drank beer at home, but it is essential in this town to be able to drink and to enjoy beer. Most people don't like beer the first time that they taste it, or even the second or third time! But if you persevere, you realize that it is one of the most enjoyable and refreshing drinks there is. A lot of women don't like beer, but that's because they are not prepared to make the effort to learn, whereas men think that it is manly to drink beer, so they do make the effort. It's not true of course, but it makes men happy to think so! Language skills are just the same. You have to persevere and work hard to learn to speak a language well." He presented Sandro with a half pint of Camford's local brew, West London Bitter. Sandro tasted it and pulled a face. 

"It's very bitter," he said. "What does 'persevere' mean?"

"Yes, it takes quite an effort to get used to it. Drink it up and you can then have a cola if you want it! 'Persevere' is perseverare in Italian, not very different. When you meet the kids from the language school, you'll probably find that they are very juvenile and childish. Don't drink the rubbish beer or the alcopops that they drink and steer clear of hash or hard drugs. If you don't enjoy their company, don't worry, the boys and girls you'll meet when you move into college will be much more interesting."

The next few minutes were spent by Jon telling Sandro what the various items on the menu were. The pub did have a few Italian dishes, and Sandro ended up choosing lasagne. "That won't taste like the lasagne that your mother cooks!" said Jon. 

"It's fine!" replied Sandro. Teenagers are always ready to eat most kinds of food. He finished the beer and asked Jon for a cola. 

"Here's the money," said Jon, "go up to the bar and order it yourself. I don't think that they will ask for proof of age, as you are not buying alcohol, but if they do, show them your passport. You need practice in doing things like buying drinks." They ate their meal, both having two courses, and Jon consumed a pint of West London bitter. Jon paid the bill for the food.

When they got back to the flat, Jon took a copy of 'Alice in Wonderland' from the shelf and told Sandro to read out loud from it. First Jon read a paragraph, telling Sandro to listen carefully, then Sandro read the same passage, and Jon corrected his pronunciation. "We'll do half an hour of that every evening," said Jon. "You'll find that it is the best way to improve your pronunciation. It won't always be the same book, and sometimes we'll use a newspaper." 

They then had a long chat in Italian, in which both agreed that the complexity of their family relationships was not only confusing to themselves, it must totally baffle people outside the family. Sandro was in many ways so like Luke, that Jon found it easier to think of Sandro as another son rather than his partner's nephew and Sandro found it easier to think of Jon as another father rather than his uncle's partner. When speaking of Jon to other people, he resolved to call him his uncle. 'Co-uncle' seemed an unintelligible word, as well as being hard to say. Sandro went to bed thinking that England might be enjoyable as well as extremely interesting. Jon went to bed missing his son, whom he had not seen for six months, his memory having been awakened by Sandro's amazing resemblance. He just hoped for the sake of family peace and quiet, that Sandro did not turn out to be gay.

Chapter Two: Problem at the opera house

David Singleton-Scarborough breathed a sigh of relief as the last pupil of the day left his house. The boy had been rather a pain. He persistently failed to get the tempo of the aria he was singing right to David's satisfaction. Sometimes David wondered whether starting teaching was the right thing for him to have done. One of his reasons for doing so was so that he could spend more time with his partner Jon. However, things had not turned out that way. When his sister Dorothea, known by her husband as Dorotea, asked if he could keep an eye on her son Alessandro while he was polishing up his English prior to entering Camford University, David had said that he himself couldn't do it, but that he would ask his partner Jon. So Jon agreed to spend an extra couple of months in the apartment in Fountain Street, Camford instead of sleeping every night in Heemstede with his lover.

David liked living in the Netherlands. Although he missed the academic hothouse atmosphere of Camford, the relaxed atmosphere of the Low Countries suited him. He was after all, half Dutch by birth. But at the same time, he also missed Jon. In Heemstede, he had more time to think of his partner than during his recital tours and opera engagements. 

David got up and went into his office, where his PA, Loesje was checking his diary for the following week. "Net zodra je klaar bent, Loesje, ga maar een beetje vervroegd naar huis." (As soon as you're done, Loesje, you can go home a bit early) he said. When she had gone, fancying a bit of phone sex, even though it was only 4-30 pm in England, he reached for the telephone to ring Jon. However, at that moment there was a ringing sound from his laptop. It was Luke, calling from Italy via Skype. David looked at the handsome image of his twenty-three-year-old son. He radiated contentment. 'Married' life with his partner Tom obviously suited Luke. "Hi, Dad, after six months, I'm finally doing something interesting, and I need to ask you something. Our head répétiteur is leaving shortly, and my boss is looking for someone to replace him, and being very international in outlook (otherwise he wouldn't have hired me!) he is thinking about someone from Northern Europe rather than another Italian. Do you know of any good répétiteurs who might want to gain experience in Italy?" 

David thought for a moment. "There are very good ones in Copenhagen, Mannheim, Antwerp and Lyon," he said, "but whether any of them might want to go to Trabizona, I don't know. I'll send you their names by E-mail, and their E-mail addresses if I can find them, which I doubt. How are you, and how's Tom?" 

"I'm fine. As for Tom, his Italian has now taken off! For months he's been trying to talk Italian to me in bed. All the dirty words I learnt from the students in Bologna, I've taught to him, but a month ago I forbade him from speaking English to me, not just in bed, but all the time! That made it hard work for him, but now he's starting to think in Italian, and we never use English in the house! He says it has made things so much easier in the lab, being able to talk to technicians, students and clerical staff, instead of just scientists. Do you know what he said to me in bed the other day? 'Mi piace tuo cazzo bello'!" (I love your beautiful cock). 

"It sounds to me as though he has finally succumbed to the charms of Italy!" David replied. "Italy has attracted Englishmen since the days of the Anglo-Saxons. No less than three Anglo-Saxon kings went on pilgrimage to Rome and died there. 

"Anyway, I'm very glad that Tom has broken through the barrier. It is very hard, however much of a foreign language you can understand and read, to actually go out and speak to people. Now that Tom has gained his confidence in communicating, his vocabulary will increase like a bomb. But keep up the daily flash-card exercises. That is the best way to expand his vocabulary easily. The dirty words will help. There is nothing more limiting than not being able to curse in a foreign tongue! Sometimes when you say or do something, Luke, that I like or approve of, I regret that I'm not your biological father. I can't even claim credit for your big dick! But I'm glad that Tom appreciates it!" 

"It seems strange," replied Luke "that Tom is such a big lad, and yet only has an average-size dick. But it's good enough for me. I wouldn't wish him any different. He's my big boy from the North! He wouldn't half be embarrassed if he could hear what we're talking about!" 

"Yes, you have certainly inherited my crude way of talking. That's a dubious advantage of being brought up by two men, without a mother. For instance, I can't imagine many fathers ever discussing the size of their sons' cocks with them! But that comes from swimming naked in our indoor pool. It would have been a lot more difficult for us if you had been straight. You would have cringed, as Cathy often used to, especially when your Pop and I used to talk about women. I just hope that Jon and I are not going to have that sort of problem with Sandro. He's a sweet boy, and I hope that he rapidly gets his uncertainty about his sexuality cleared up. I would hate your mother to accuse Jon and me of tipping him over the fence into gayness. Still, we shall know within the next year or so! Luke, are you busy this weekend?" (It was Friday afternoon).

"Not really," replied Luke. I'm working tomorrow night, but only from five till about eleven. I'm free all day Sunday, though we're going to my mother's for lunch and dinner. Why?" 

"I'm missing Jon, and I've no lessons this weekend, because a lot people are on holiday. If I can get a plane tonight, I'm minded to come and see you both." 

"What a brilliant idea! I'll make up a bed for you and Tom will come to Valerio-Catullo to meet you, because I'm working tonight." 

"Right! I'll ring you from Schiphol to confirm that I've got a seat on the plane. The flight's at 7-30, so I should arrive about 9-30 pm." 

All went according to plan. As David emerged from the arrivals gate at Valerio-Catullo, Tom rushed up to greet him. David embraced him and gave him a quick kiss. They both noticed on each other the fragrance of Storing pour Homme, the gay perfume that they both used. Tom led him to the car park and unlocked a small white three-door Fiat. "Non parlamo Inglese!" he said, "solo Italiano." They put David's bag on the back seat and climbed in. Tom continued in Italian, "I've just bought this car from Massimo. He got it for Sandro to learn to drive in, as it's small and easily manoeuvrable. But Sandro has now passed the driving test and in any case is in Camford, where cars are a liability. So Massimo offered it to me at a bargain price. Because I had only had a license for four months when we got here, I had no problems in adapting to driving on the right. It's much easier for me to get to the lab by car than to use the bus, whereas Luca can easily go on the tram to the Teatro Musicale. We're lucky enough to have off-street parking at our apartment. 

"There's a restaurant next door to the opera house that specializes in after-show suppers, so we're taking you there to eat. We've booked a table for 11 pm, which is a bit late to eat, but I guess that you need some food!" They drove into Trabizona and Tom parked the car. At that time of night it was no problem. 

They got into the restaurant and sat at the bar, awaiting Luke's arrival. Tom's cellphone rang. It was Luke, speaking in English. They had a major problem at the opera house. As he was leaving the building after that evening's performance of 'Rigoletto,' the tenor had slipped on the stairs and broken his ankle. The hospital said that he must not walk on it for 48 hours. There was no understudy, and no-one in cast or chorus could sing the role tomorrow night with less than 22 hours notice, so Luke wondered if his father could step in. Otherwise they would have to cancel the performance and give the audience their ticket money back. He knew that David had sung the role of Il Duca di Mantova in Antwerp the previous year. David sighed. "I can't get away from my job, can I?" he said. "Not even for a weekend with my family! Tell Luke that I'll do it on condition that they assemble the cast principals and the répétiteur tomorrow afternoon to rehearse with me, and get me a vocal score, and that they have someone on hand to make sure that the costumes fit me! It's too short notice to be able to get the orchestra in. Oh, and ask them to provide a free seat for Tom!" Luke was delighted and said he would ring back in ten minutes with his boss's decision, and that he would be along to join us in half an hour. 

Needless to say, they accepted David's offer, and Luke joined David and Tom for a very late supper. He said that he had E-mailed his mother to warn her that her brother would be joining them on Sunday. Tom was delighted to get a chance to hear David sing again. David was secretly pleased that after twenty years as an international artist, he had finally got the chance of singing in an Italian opera house, and delighted that it was his son who had got him the chance. The three of them consumed only a single bottle of wine with their meal, and at David's insistence, they were in bed by 1-30 am.

Chapter Three: David gives a ducal performance

The three men had breakfast at 9 am the next morning. David had brought his laptop and from it extracted the names of répétiteurs that Luke had asked for. Luke went off to the opera house to find out who was going to contact the other cast members, who would not be best pleased at having to give up their Saturday afternoon for an extra rehearsal. 


An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 01



Tom showed David their apartment. It was on the first floor and was reached by a flight of outside stairs from a courtyard reached by an archway off the street. It was spacious yet cosy inside. There were two bedrooms, a good-sized bathroom with washbasin, shower, toilet and bidet, a large sitting room with dining space at one end, a reasonable-sized kitchen, and small poky room that the boys used as a study. They paid a nice middle-aged lady who lived nearby to come in three days per week to do the cleaning, and she would on prior notice cook for them in the evening, if asked. They did their own laundry and much of their own shopping, and Tom cooked for them at the weekend if they were at home. "We're very lucky to have some money of our own," said Tom. "We could never have afforded the rent for this apartment on my Leonardo grant and Luke's meagre earnings at the Teatro Musicale!" It was clear to David that they were a very happy couple. Luke reappeared in time for lunch, which they ate in a trattoria near the apartment. 

The rehearsal was timed for 4 pm. Luke escorted his father to the theatre, where most of the cast were gathered with the répétiteur. David was introduced by Luke's boss, Cornelio Sirigante. David apologized for breaking up their Saturday afternoon, but said that he could not appear without having sung at least the major numbers of the recitatives and ensembles with the rest of the cast. They began with the archetypal quartet 'Bella figlia del' amore,' which went very well. They then ran through as many ensembles and exchanges of recitative as they could, and finished with just enough time to dress and make up for the performance at 7-30. Fortunately, David was of a similar height and build to the injured tenor, and only the trouser waist needed to be taken in a little. There was a spare box, so Tom was able to watch the performance from a box. The audience received with their programmes a duplicated slip informing them that the role of Il Duca was to be sung at short notice by Davide Singleton-Scarborough, a name that most Italians would find unpronounceable! 

The performance was a great success. Tom led the applause from his box and the audience was obviously delighted. They knew international quality when they heard it. Luke's boss was profuse in his thanks to David and asked if he would consider a season in Trabizona in two years time. David immediately agreed, saying that his agent would be in touch to negotiate a fee, as well as to collect payment for that evening's one-off performance. That night their post-performance supper was a much more boozy affair!  

Next day the three of them were up early and Tom drove them to Bologna for the service at the English church, at which the two boys had become regular worshippers, and which, apart from conversations while jogging with an American colleague from the lab, was the only time that Tom spoke English! From Bologna they went on to Sandro's home-town to join Luke's mother, Massimo and Bianca for lunch. David gave his niece a big kiss. She was now about fourteen. "I ought to come and see you more regularly," he said to Dorothea and Massimo, "I hope the boys are not coming here too often. If you don't watch out, they'll start bringing their washing for you to do! If they're too lazy to do it themselves, they should be paying someone to do it for them!" 

"After not seeing my eldest son for nineteen years, I'm quite happy to see him as often as he cares to come, and Tom is sweet, he's never any trouble! Bianca seems to have taken a fancy to him. The boys NEVER bring me washing! And now that my darling Sandro is in Camford, it's even nicer to have one of my boys in the house." 

"But how does Massimo feel about it? Wouldn't he prefer to have a weekend with just the three of you?" 

"But he does. The boys don't come every weekend, only every other weekend. And in any case, during the opera season, they only come on Sunday, when Massimo is always glad to see them, and they don't stay overnight. Family is family, and it takes first place with Italians. Don't forget that you were the one who could play with Luca when he was a toddler, took him for walks, got him into Winton College School, even tried to teach him to swim! I never knew him when he was a sweet little boy, so I'm just so glad that I can enjoy his company now that he's a man." 

"Actually, much of that credit goes not to me but to Jon. He's the one who got stuck at home with two kids, while I was gadding off round the world singing in opera houses. Sometimes I think that Jon is the kids' real father, and I am just a visitor in my own home. But that is the way that Jon wanted it. He gave up a research career to promote my singing career, because he promised our Dad that he would give me maximum opportunity to use my inborn talent for singing, and we were not prepared to pay someone to bring up our children for us. And we both owe a lot to you for giving us the chance of being Luke's parents!" 

"I'm just as grateful to you, because by adopting Luke, you gave me the chance to do a Ph.D." With these mutual compliments, the conversation ended and they all went out to a trattoria for a family lunch. 

Next morning, David left early on a train to Valerio-Catullo airport for the return flight to Schiphol, and by 2 pm was listening to one of his pupils singing scales. He was rather pleased that he had finally broken into the Italian opera scene, which not even Marcello Fabioni had managed to achieve for him. (Marcello had been David's singing teacher, had started off David's professional singing career, and had got Luke his present job as assistant to Cornelio Sirigante).

Chapter Four: Sandro explores Camford

Teaching at Sandro's language school took only three days per week. On the fourth day, excursions were organized to interesting places in and near Camford. The fifth day of the week was supposed to be used for private study, but few of the students did much of that. The course lasted six weeks, at the end of which the students took the TOEFL test, although they were encouraged to try the internet-based test at an earlier stage in the course. A few of the students at the school were hoping to start at once on a British University course, like Sandro, but most were using it as basis of preparation for more advanced exams, either in Camford or back in their homeland. In Sandro's case, he had had a telephone/video conference interview, which had more or less satisfied the college admissions tutor, but to be absolutely certain, the offer had been conditional on Sandro getting the highest possible grade in the TOEFL test. 

Sandro found that his uncle's low opinion of of language school students had been right. The other students at the school were either obsessively shy, because they lacked the confidence to talk, or perfectly competent English speakers, who just wanted to have a few week's enjoyment away from their parents. Most of the young people on the programme were from rich parents, who just wanted their children out of the way for a few weeks. After three weeks, Sandro took the test and passed as expected, at the highest grade. His result was sent directly to the college by the test agency, and at the end of August, his place at Boni's, as Saint Boniface's was known, was assured. His uncle agreed that there was little point in him staying on the course. He said that he would take Sandro to various interesting places in and around Camford, and of course his daily test regime at home would continue. Sandro's pronunciation was steadily improving, and it was clear that he would have no problems with lectures or tutorials. 

Jon also took advantage of his position as honorary fellow of Boni's to show Sandro the college, including the staircase whose refurbishment he had paid for, and many other parts of the college that were not open to undergraduates. He then took Sandro out on a punt through the winding waterways that add an almost Venetian air of romance to the city of Camford. When they got outside the area of the colleges, he showed his nephew how to propel a punt. It is not difficult, but is harder than it looks. The essential point of technique is to keep the pole firmly pushed up against the side of the boat, to push hard on it and to lift it clear of the water between strokes. Sandro watched carefully, and in half an hour was propelling the boat as if he had been doing it for years.

They had also, rather to Sandro's embarrassment, had a few personal discussions. Jon told Sandro that he had joined a family of very pious men, but that he would not be expected to go to church with Jon or the family unless he wanted to. He could go on his own to the local Roman Catholic church, or stay at home and do whatever he liked. There would be no religious pressure. Sandro admitted that although he had been an altar-boy when younger, he now went to church very rarely. Jon also said, and this was perhaps less embarrassing to Sandro, that although he and David were gay, there would be no influence on Sandro, and in any case, once Sandro was living in college, he could do whatever he liked, but warned him that he should always take prophylactic precautions. (The words he used to discuss that topic were not so polysyllabic, and indeed were Italian.) Sandro blushed, but admitted that he had come with the necessary equipment in his luggage. Maybe he was shy, but he was not naïve! 

Jon also told Sandro that he had bought him a year's membership of the Camford Men's Fitness Centre. "I had better go with you the first time," he said. "You need to know how the changing rooms work." So one afternoon in August, the two of them entered the Fitness Centre. The building work on the extensions was nearly complete, and it was hoped that the new facilities would be available within a few months. Jon explained to Sandro that the swimming-pool changing facilities were a duplex, which shared a central locker room. One side of the duplex was for modest men, with closed cubicles and individual showers, and the other side for men who did not care who saw them naked, with communal changing and shower facilities without screens or partitions. Jon said that quite a lot of gay men used the facilities, and that Sandro should be aware that he might be propositioned, not in the changing room itself, where such approaches were heavily frowned on, but elsewhere on the premises such as the bar. He urged Sandro not to avoid the place, because unpleasantness was practically unheard of, but just to be aware that he might be approached. Sandro loved the facilities. The pool, the showers and the bar all seemed wonderful to him, and he decided to become a regular visitor, particularly during the summer when there were no undergraduates around. 

Jon encouraged Sandro to go out on his own. He made sure that the boy had enough money to buy himself a meal in a pub or restaurant. They had already been several times together to the Venezia, Camford's only good Italian restaurant, and Sandro knew that he could talk to the waiters and waitresses in his own language. Jon took Sandro to one or two concerts, but such events were not numerous in Camford in August and September.

One of Sandro's favourite walks was to go with his uncle along the Camwell towpath to a pub called the Carp at Stubbington. Sometimes Sandro would go there on his own and drink a beer and eat a jacket potato or a pork pie or a Scotch egg, all new and unfamiliar items of diet. Jon's slight pressure on the boy to persevere with English cask beer had been successful, and Sandro now after a month enjoyed bitter, mild and pale ales, and the bitterness which had initially deterred him he soon came to realize was what gave beer its essential thirst-quenching qualities.

One day at the Carp, he met a couple of girls as he sat in the garden eating his lunch. They were quite attractive, and he eyed them up appreciatively. The girls noticed his glances, and one of them came over and asked him if he would like to join them. He did so, and asked them if they would like a further drink. They said yes, and a few minutes later, he emerged from the pub carrying the drinks on a tray. In contrast to Tom's struggles, in a month Sandro had adjusted to speaking and thinking in English, and the half-hour pre-bedtime conversations in Italian with Jon had now ceased by mutual agreement. 

The girls were not English: one was oriental, the other from the Czech Republic. A few minutes conversation revealed that they were on an English language course prior to beginning their University studies in the Martinmas term. Sandro enquired which colleges they were going to. The oriental girl, who was from Thailand, said that she was going to Boni's to read law, the Czech girl was going to Shrewsbury College to read agricultural science. In the course of conversation it became clear to all three of them that they could all speak English pretty well. 

Sandro asked them how they had got to the Carp and they said on the bus. He asked them if they would like to walk back with him along the towpath to the centre of the city. They agreed, so when they had all finished their drinks they drifted slowly back in the direction of Camford. It was about 4 pm when they got back and Sandro asked them if they would like afternoon tea. They agreed and entered a teashop. He ordered tea and cakes for three. In the course of conversation, it emerged that the next day was the girls' free day from the language school. As they did not yet have university E-mail addresses, they exchanged mobile phone numbers and arranged to meet the next day to explore Camford. 

It was a warm summer day, and they met at about 10 am. Sandro suggested that they hired a punt before lunch and the big invasion of tourists that rather spoilt the city in the summer. They did so, and Sandro took them through the winding waterways and along the river Camwell until they reached a riverside pub, where they stopped briefly to purchase a few bottles and sandwiches before continuing their voyage. The girls loved it. They tied the boat to its pole jammed firmly in the mud and climbed out into a waterside meadow, where they ate their sandwiches and drank white wine out of a screwtop bottle in paper cups. Sandro had an allowance from his parents and another one from his uncles, and although the latter was not enough to live on, it made excellent spending money. After lunch, they slowly made their way back into the city, paid their hire at the boathouse, and explored a few of the colleges. They also went into the splendid fifteenth-century University Church of Saint Edward. Then they had tea in the 'Stainless-steel Kettle' a teahouse in the High Street. They bade farewell, and Sandro told them he would see them when term began. He had realized that you don't date two girls at once. 

Next day he started making regular visits to the Men's Fitness Centre. Like his uncles and cousins, he was a swimming enthusiast and thought nothing of swimming 40 lengths of the 25-metre pool. At his first two or three visits, when he bought a beer at the bar, he was asked to show his membership card, but after that the bar staff got to know him by sight. He wondered how long it would be before some old queen asked to buy him a drink, but it did not happen. He looked with great interest at the other men in the changing room, and was relieved that he never saw anyone so attractive that he got an erection. He was genuinely and fairly objectively trying to establish his sexual orientation, but so far neither males nor females created any physical excitement. So he decided just to concentrate on enjoying himself and wait until something happened.

Chapter Five: Mediterranean Tom 

Tom Appleton heaved himself out of bed. Luke was already up, out of the bathroom and dressed. Tom staggered into the bathroom, pissed copiously into the toilet, farted noisily and began to shave. They ate breakfast together, the sweet face of his partner smiling at him across the table causing a wave of love and tenderness to sweep over Tom. He got up from the table, walked round it and threw his arms round Luke and kissed him goodbye. He then set off to the lab. Luke did not start work until 10 am, and it was only a five-minute tram ride to the Teatro Musicale.

Tom had finally, after six months, adjusted to life in Italy. It had taken that long to become able to speak Italian all the time. The final seal of approval of his linguistic skills had come from Massimo, who said that he had never known an Englishman learn good Italian so quickly. Tom even felt confident enough to ask questions in Italian at the Departmental seminars in his lab. He could now understand the crude jokes of some of the other research students. It had been a hard struggle for six months, but now he finally felt at home in Italy. He found that Italian Ph.D. students had a very low status, because they were at the bottom of the research workers' pecking order. Even the technicians had a higher status, because they had permanent jobs, and research students, even with a Masters degree, were only there for maximally four years. 

During that first six months, Tom had been heavily emotionally dependent on Luke. Luke was his haven of security in a strange land. Every night Tom came home hungry for his partner. To re-establish his security to face another day without speaking English, Tom had to have a minimum of ten minutes lovemaking every night. Of course this did not necessarily involve fucking or even sucking. Kissing and cuddling were often sufficient to restore Tom's self-confidence. Fortunately, Luke understood Tom's insecurity, and in any case enjoyed his stud-boy's attention. The effect on Tom was very noticeable. His self-confidence steadily increased. On the nights when Luke wanted to fuck him, Tom would lie back and relax and enjoy the sensation of Luke's monster cock inside him. Just as an anxious or unhappy teenage boy finds consolation and release in wanking, Tom found it in fucking. It didn't matter whether he was at the giving or the receiving end, the transfer of seed and the emotional as well as physical union, made sexual intercourse a source of emotional strength as well as of joy and pleasure.

There were no other English people in the lab. The only foreigners were a Dutchman, a German and an American, all postdocs. They welcomed him with open arms, as they found the Italian 'siesta mentality' very annoying. They wanted to leave the lab at 5 or 6 pm, when the others were just getting into their stride with the afternoon's work. In this respect however, Tom was happy with the Italian system, because Luke worked until 11 pm at least four nights a week, always including Saturdays, during the opera season, which covered eight months of the year, and he could lunch in the canteen or in a student restaurant and spend the evening in the lab, where there was much less obsession with security than in Camford. Then he would meet Luke for a light supper before bed. 

On Saturdays, Luke did not start work until 5 pm. The best swimming pool was on the outskirts of the city and needed a car journey to get there. Tom sometimes went there by himself during what the boys called the siesta period, the long Italian lunch-break. They usually went there together on a Saturday morning before breakfast. Tom readily adapted to Italian food, and found it was good for him. He also took up jogging, as the town was too big to travel on foot, and he needed more exercise than their limited swimming time allowed. There was a large park in the centre of Trabizona, which extended to the outskirts of the city on the eastern side. He usually went jogging there three times a week with the American postdoc, who was a nice friendly guy, and this was the only time during the week that Tom spoke English! After jogging, they usually had breakfast in a trattoria before going home for a quick shower before work. All this meant that on jogging days, Tom had to get up at 6-30 am, which was a struggle for him, as he had always been bad at getting up in a morning.




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 01



The lab had modern buildings with air-conditioning, so even in the summer it was a pleasant place to work. Tom's supervisor was called Arturo Sescantanto. He was the academic equivalent of a British Reader or an American Associate Professor, with very limited undergraduate teaching responsibilities, and so he was available not just in the lab, but often at the bench alongside the students and postdocs who made up his research group. In spite of this ready accessibility, Tom found him difficult to talk to. It was not any lack of linguistic fluency on Tom's part, so he could only conclude that it was because he was gay. He had never made any secret in the lab of his gayness, but coupled it with the statement that he was in a permanent relationship, although as yet no-one in the lab had met Luke. There was a social life in the lab, which involved a session in a café once or twice per month, and Tom always went along, though his ignorance of Italian politics and society meant that a lot of the conversation was lost on him. He could not bring Luke with him, because Luke was working most evenings at that time.

In many ways, he enjoyed most the Sundays spent with the Mascagnolis. In particular he developed a great fondness for his 'mother.' He had lost his own mother some seven years before, and Dorotea Mascagnoli was rapidly becoming a mother figure for him. Luke's biological half-sister Bianca had also become very fond of Tom. Luke did not take this amiss, he was glad that his partner had become so fond of his mother and sister. Sometimes, though, Luke did worry slightly about the effect on Massimo of this evident affection of Tom's for his wife. Fortunately, in spite of being a hot-blooded Italian, Massimo knew enough about human nature to know the strong need that most gays have for a mother figure, and that jealousy was pointless and unnecessary. 

In early October, about the time that Sandro was moving into Boni's, Tom decided that he wanted to resume piano lessons, neglected since the death of his mother. Not having any idea how to find a piano teacher in Trabizona, he asked Luke to ask around at the opera house. Their répétiteur said that he knew a good female piano teacher, who specialized in non-advanced pupils. She was a middle-aged widow called Signora Teodora Bruschetti. They gave him her phone number, and Tom, trembling with trepidation about making a phone call in Italian to a stranger, rang the number. The lady answered and asked him to call at her house at 5 pm the next day. She gave him the address, Via Mazzini 173. 

At the hour arranged, Tom rang the doorbell. The door was opened by a very attractive middle-aged lady. When Tom said "Cerco Signora Bruschetti" she replied that she was Signora Bruschetti and invited him in. She was surprised to see a fit-looking young man in his twenties rather than a teenager. Tom explained rather haltingly, because he did not know all the technical terms in Italian that he wanted to resume piano lessons, having had none for eight years. Signora Bruschetti invited him to play something. Anticipating such a request, he took out of his bag the music of the third of Schubert's first set of impromptus and sat down at the piano. Not having had access to a piano, and not having played the piece for several years, it was little more than sight-reading for him, so he played it rather haltingly and with a few mistakes. Signora B watched him very closely, noting his hand and finger positions and his use of the pedals. The piece lasted just over 5 minutes, and she let him play it right through. "You've got a lot to learn!" she said. "But your basic technique is good. Who taught you?" 

"A lady in my home town in England," he replied. "You wouldn't know her." They discussed her terms, and Tom agreed, but said that he could not start until he had acquired a piano. "I've got enough money to buy a new one," he explained.

However, Signora B said, "I know someone who has a secondhand piano for sale. It's in good condition, I've heard it played, and you could have it for €800." 

"That sounds a bargain! said Tom, "it could well cost me more than that to move it!"

It took several weeks to get the piano business sorted out. They had first to establish where they would put it, to ensure that the walls were thick enough not to disturb the neighbours when it was played, that the floor would stand the weight and finally what equipment would be needed to get the piano into a first floor apartment. Eventually though, all these problems were solved to the great benefit of both of the boys' vocabularies, and Tom's piano was installed in their small study and tuned. 

Once his weekly lessons had begun, he began really to enjoy himself. Signora B was a charming lady and he soon fell under her spell. The difficulties which he had in communicating with Professor Sescantanto did not seem to apply to his piano teacher. She asked him about himself and how he came to be in Italy. "Tutto è a causa di amore." (It's all because of love), he told her. "My partner got a job here at the Teatro Musicale, so I came with him, and I'm doing research for a Ph.D. in chemistry." 

"Are you from a musical family?" she asked him. 

"No," he replied, "but my partner's father is an opera singer. The reason for me resuming lessons is so that I can accompany him in his practising." Considering that Tom only saw his 'father' two or three times a year since they had moved to Italy, this was not a good reason, but it was the only one that Tom could think of.

He could now, on the evenings when he was not working in the lab, get on with his practice without distraction. He could feel his old confidence returning and was happier for not feeling that he was spending the evenings just waiting for Luke to come home. 

After several weeks of lessons, Signora B asked him whether he would like to bring his partner to dinner one evening. "I don't have much time to cook myself," she said, "But I have a lady who will come in to cook for me if I ask her. How about sometime next week?" 

"Si, bene, could we come on Wednesday? Luca my partner works four evenings per week at the Teatro Musicale, but he is free on Wednesdays." 

"By all means. Come about 7-30, and don't dress up." 

"Grazie, we will see you then." 

"You'll need to work on those minor scales. You are not smooth enough. Also practise that new Schubert impromptu." 

"OK, e grazie." 

The following Wednesday, Tom and Luke turned up punctually at 7-30. They were offered glasses of Prosecco, and asked to sit down. Signora Bruschetti looked appraisingly at Luke and said, "You don't look a bit like your partner!" 

"No," replied Luke, "It must be the attraction of opposites! I am adopted, and I am told that my father was an Italian. I was brought up in Camford by my uncle and his gay partner. My mother, though English, still lives in Italy, so you can understand that although I think and behave like an Englishman, I have a deep attraction to Italy. And now after nine months, Tom is starting to like it here too. We go and see my mother every two weeks. His mother died when he was fifteen, and he seems to have taken a fancy to my mother!" 

"Luca does not seem to understand that even gay men need female company!" said Tom. 

"Tom, you might not feel that way if you had to deal with some of the prime donne that I have to cope with on a daily basis!" said Luke. "Some are sweet, but others are figlie di puttana" (bitches). "Tenori and bassi are always easy to get on with. I never have any problems with the cast that I see nearly every day, the chorus, both men and women. They are the only permanent faces, and we get on very well. It's the visiting principals who give me hassle, especially the women." 

"But you liked Leonora!" 

"Yes, but the nice thing about Leonora was that she was sweet and feminine without showing any interest in sex! She was hoping to enter a religious order," Luke explained to Signora B. "We used to go to the opera together when I was an Erasmus student in Bologna a couple of years ago. Quite why a prospective nun was so keen on opera, I never found out. As we were both very pious, we got on well together! She did let me hold her hand, but she was not keen on being kissed. This guy loves it!" he said with a gesture towards Tom. Tom blushed.

They moved into dinner, which was a delicious fish dish, accompanied by Soave. "Your cooking lady is an expert!" Luke said, "This is superb!" 

Signora Bruschetti smiled. "Young men always enjoy their food," she said. She said that she had a son and a daughter, but that neither was particularly musical. They were grown up, and the daughter was married. The boys divulged that they both sang in the choir of the English church in Bologna, but that only Luke had had any voice training when he was at choir school before his voice had broken, and that his voice, though good, was not good enough for a professional singer. 

"I'm not trying to get myself a singing career through the back door!" he said. "I wanted a job in opera management because I'm more interested in people. Tom is quite different. He makes friends very slowly." 

"Yes, I was in love with Luca long before he thought of me as anything but a friend," said Tom. Both the boys felt that this sweet lady was someone they could trust and confide in, without the handicap of her being a relative. 

Chapter Six: David comes home

About the time that Sandro moved into college, David returned to England by train. Since the advent of high-speed services from Amsterdam to Brussels, London was one cross-platform change away from The Hague, and the whole journey from Heemstede to London only took about four hours. Jon was so anxious to see him that he went to London to meet him at St Pancras International station. Unlike in their younger days, they now embraced openly at the exit barrier before Jon carried the younger man's luggage to a cab. 

No sooner had they arrived at their London flat than they carried the bags upstairs, locked the door and began to tear each other's clothes off. Jon had left the bed all ready, with a couple of unwrapped condoms and a tube of lube lying ready on the bedside table. As soon as they were naked, David threw his arms round him and began to run his hands down Jon's back. Both were conscious of the other's rock-hard tool. Unbridled lust was obvious on both their faces. David grasped the cheeks of Jon's arse in each of his hands. Jon's buttocks were as tight and muscular as ever. His regime of walking and swimming had kept him fitter than his younger partner. This was in spite of the fact that when he was in the Netherlands, David went swimming three times per week, went for an hour's walk every day and spent half an hour a day on an exercise machine. All this was to try to combat the unhealthy lifestyle that an itinerant artist experiences when he is on the international round of opera, oratorio and recital performances. 

Without discussing the matter, David let Jon be top first. He climbed on to the bed and knelt there, hands on the pillow, arse waving temptingly in the air. "You've no idea how much I've missed you!" Jon said. "Having young Sandro in the house was a vivid reminder of how good it was to be young. Many's the night I've wanked myself off, wanting you like mad!" 

"Right! Well you've now got me. Indulge your evil unnatural lust on my unresisting body! Commit the vile and bestial act of buggery on your helpless victim! Fuck me silly! I want you up my rear end NOW! Stick your male dagger into my welcoming arsehole!"

Having put the rubber on his dick, Jon began by kissing each of David's slightly plump and rounded buttocks. The hair felt wonderful on his lips as he ran his mouth over the rounded surface. The warmth of David's body and the faint scent of Storing pour Homme intoxicated him. He reached round David's hips and took hold of his tool with his left hand and caressed it gently as he used his right hand to introduce lube over David's crack and to poke the lube into his anus. Three fingers were needed to stretch the sphincter after its period of non-entry. Then, rather than enter him from behind, he turned David over, pushed him down on his back and lifted his legs on to his own shoulders. Smiling lovingly, he pushed his tool into David's anus. David gave a little yelp as Jon slid through the sphincter, and Jon paused and bent to kiss his lips. "Ti amo, caro mio!" he murmured in Italian and smiled again. 

David relaxed and said, "Come on then, give it to me hard! I want you just as much as you want me, my much missed man-fucker!" Jon complied, pushing his man-stick as hard and deeply as he could, until he hit David's prostate. He rammed him roughly for some minutes, but then, as tenderness replaced lust, he slowed down and bent forward to kiss David's face and neck and shoulders. When he resumed thrusting, he moved more slowly, savouring the moist warmth of David's gut and spinning out the fucking for as long as he could. 

"Do you remember that first time in the flat in Fountain Street, just before your second year began, when I took Viagra to make sure that I would stay hard when I took your anal virginity? I was dead frightened that if you suffered any pain or major discomfort, I would lose my erection! Nowadays my need for your body is so strong that I am as hard as a rock at the mere sight of you undressing!" 

"Of course! An event like that, the first time of being fucked, is something that you remember for the rest of your life. The funny thing was that although we arranged that you would fuck me first because your dick, being smaller, would give me less discomfort, everyone that talked to me about our relationship, and particularly the women, all seemed to know that it was you that was doing the fucking. Even my mother seemed to know, though I NEVER discussed it with anyone. Do you know, my little brother Jeroen, when he was undergoing an adolescent period of fear that he was gay, used to ask me what you and I did together! He was only fourteen at the time and I wouldn't have dreamt of telling him anything about what we two did in private." 

"I think it was probably due to your long hair making you look more like a woman, and my crew-cut looking more macho, replied Jon. "In fact, as we both know, no-one could be more macho than you. You have all the male characteristics of scruffy dress and a hatred of dancing! But I still love your long hair, even though you are no longer the sweet teenager that I fell in love with." 

"It's a helluva nuisance when I have to wear a wig on the stage! But I still like it long, and I'm lucky that so far I still have most of my hair. But shut up and get back down to business. I need your prick doing its work up my bum NOW!"

Jon returned to fucking his partner with renewed vigour. A relaxed smile of pleasure suffused David's face as he lay there, reaching up from time to time to run his hands over Jon's shoulders and chest. Eventually Jon shot his load, and shouted David's name before bending forward and smothering David with kisses as his erection slowly subsided and his tool slipped out of David's hole.

The flat was quite warm, so David got up, naked as he was and, dick swinging between his legs, walked into the small kitchen and began to make coffee. There was no point in getting dressed, because it would soon be his turn to fuck. During his long train journey, there had been a build-up of gas in his gut, and their recent anal activities had loosened it, and as he waited for the water for the coffee to heat, he released it noisily. The noise of the fart echoed through the kitchen. "You didn't lose much time making your presence heard!" Jon joked, as David brought the coffee in. 

David giggled, "Oh, it's wonderful to be home with you again!" he said, as they sipped coffee. "How has Sandro been getting on? Has he been any trouble?" 

"None at all. He adapted surprisingly quickly to life in England. He's got used to English food, and learnt the lessons I gave him on English beer, lessons that I never had to give you because your father brought you up with a taste for good beer. In that respect he was a good pupil. But it's a relief to get him out of the house and into college. When Cathy got back from Scotland, the flat seemed crowded. It's funny that when we had Luke here as well, it didn't seem so crowded. In many ways, I can now treat Sandro as we treated Luke. But I don't think he's got his sexuality sorted out yet. I think he may be as uncertain as you were all those years ago. We were lucky in a way that both Luke and Tom knew that they were gay early in adolescence and they never had the uncertainty problem." 

"Well, I've never regretted being led astray by an older man! You were good for me then, Jon, and you're good for me now!" With that, David took the empty coffee cup out of Jon's hand, and pushed him on to the bed. His cock began to stiffen as he started to kiss Jon's face and neck. "I've been wanting you for weeks. I've been counting the days up to today! He reached for the lube and began to prepare his lover for penetration. When Jon was ready, David rolled the condom on to his dick, lightly smeared it with lube and lined it up to enter Jon as he lay on his back, in the same position that David had been half an hour before. He pushed firmly and slipped relatively smoothly through Jon's sphincter and began to fuck him. Jon lay back and enjoyed himself as David's super-sized manhood repeatedly hit his prostate. His own cock took on new life and lay rock-hard against his belly. He began to writhe in excitement as David speeded up his movements, and before David actually came, Jon squirted another massive load of seed over his own belly. 

When the miracle happened to him, David underwent the sacramental feeling that both the men felt when fucking. With the outflow of seed went an outflow of love that seemed to enwrap the two of them and carry them both away into the realms of the spirit. "With my body, I thee worship..." quoted David from the marriage rite as he pulled out of Jon, lowered himself on top of his lover, licked up some of Jon's spunk, savoured it in his mouth and swallowed it before gluing his lips to Jon's, who opened his mouth to allow David's tongue to enter...

Around 4 pm, David said "We're getting too old to shag all night! Let's see if we can get tickets for the opera. He dialled the number of the assistant administrator at Covent Garden Royal Opera house, who was a friend of his, and asked him if he could find two tickets for that evening's performance. "It doesn't matter what the price is," he said. Tickets for two seats in the orchestral stalls were available. David gave his credit card number and was given a reference number to obtain the tickets from the machine in the theatre foyer. They changed into suitable clothes and ate in a small Italian restaurant in the old fruit and vegetable market near the opera house, quite near the Apple Store, and got to the theatre just in time to buy a programme and take their seats. The opera was Rossini's 'La gazza ladra.' They enjoyed the performance, holding hands in the darkness and ate ice-creams in the interval. "It's just as if we were in our twenties again!" giggled David as they settled into their seats for the last act. This time they ventured to sneak a quick kiss when the audience's attention was fixed on the stage. 

"The tenor who sang Giannetto was very good," said David after the performance "but it's not a role I would fancy for myself." They left the theatre hand-in-hand amidst the crowd and walked to Holborn underground station to catch a train back to the flat. "I'll be back there myself next month," he told Jon, "singing the role of Otello in the Verdi version." (Rossini also wrote an opera called 'Otello'). "The role really needs someone with a Mediterranean complexion, like Luke. I'll have to be plastered with dark brown makeup, and wear a frizzy black wig. A blond-haired Otello in inconceivable!" 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 02



Chapter Seven: Tokenham Collegiate church

In the early years of the twenty-first century, while Luke and his sister Cathy were still at school, on one summer holiday visiting Jon's developing woodlands, they found near the forest in Shropshire that Jon and Arthur Rockwell and Robin Banks had planted fifteen or so years before, the small hamlet of Tokeham. Near that small place of three houses stood the Collegiate Church of Saint Andrew. Adjoining the church, which was well outside the hamlet, were four ancient houses surrounding a courtyard. The small, early fifteenth-century church, which would hold perhaps a maximum of fifty people, was in a bad state of repair. Inside there were dilapidated box pews and walls disfigured by crude yellow eighteenth century plasterwork. Admittedly, the roof was watertight and the church had an organ, in a playable condition, but no organist.

Enquiry revealed that the houses were the residences of a Dean and three canons, and that the church was a royal peculiar. Further enquiry however, revealed that the Crown only controlled, via the Lord Chancellor's office the appointment of the canons and the maintenance of their houses via the Crown estates. There was no support or endowment for the maintenance of the church, not even the chancel, because it was not, and never had been, a parish church. In the past, the canons had usually been wealthy men, who had maintained the church at their own expense, but a resident canonry of Tokeham was now used as a sort of retirement home, where elderly clergy without much money could end their days peacefully. On average, one canon died each year. They took it in turns to say the daily office in the church, and on Sundays there was a congregation of about half a dozen souls, none of whom lived locally. Most of the canons were scholars, and occupied themselves with reading and writing. 

David was excited by the discovery. "There'll never be a resident congregation, but if money were spent on it, the church could be made really beautiful. The chancel has seats for 20 canons, although there has never been more than three plus the dean since the Reformation. But we could use the church as the seat of a new choir singing church music, if only we could get about a dozen volunteers with the right mix of voices." 

Several years after this, when he had finally found time, David set about realizing this aspiration. He resolved to trace the Dean, and see if he was interested. He found the Dean of Tokeham via his godfather, Professor Edward Bairstow, who knew him. The dean was an elderly but very lively man and gave David a free hand to try and recruit a choir. David also said that he would try and find resources to fund a restoration of the church building. He contacted the director of music at Worcester Cathedral, who had been Organ Scholar when he had been in the Boni's Chapel choir. He asked him if he knew any amateur, part-time singers who might be interested in joining a new amateur choir, specializing in church music. They would need to live within sixty kilometres of Tokeham, but the church was not at present a suitable place for regular choir practices, so they would need to find a place in the nearest town, which was Worcester.

It took a couple of years to find the necessary people for a viable choir. There was the usual shortage of tenors and altos, but David persevered with the search, because he missed communal singing. Finally he was in a position, about the time that Sandro was moving into college, to call an initial meeting of all interested participants, which was fixed for a date at the end of October in Worcester. He decided to ask Marcello Fabioni, who though now very old, was still active, if he knew a professional musician who might like to take the unpaid job of choir director, without of course giving up his day job. Although David himself would have liked to do the job, his frequent absences abroad made it impossible. 

Marcello suggested a man called Denis Hutchinson, who worked for the BBC. Not knowing him personally, David sent him an E-mail outlining his ideas and asking whether working on such a project was of any interest to him. Hutchison replied enthusiastically, and invited David to visit him at Broadcasting House in London. David explained that the project was two-fold: the renovation and revival of a historic building, and setting it to new use by an amateur choir with the highest international musical standards. Obviously in the early stages until the restoration of the church was complete, the choir would have to rehearse and perform elsewhere, but within five years, it should be possible to complete the project and add a new artistic landmark to the English musical scene.

The meeting took place, with David in the chair and Denis Hutchinson present to answer questions, and it was agreed that the first work to be performed would be at Christmas of the following year, and would be a Schubert mass. Shortly after the meeting, David was able to inform the choir members by letter that funding had been found to restore the church.



Chapter Eight: Jon's money

Jonathan was reviewing his financial situation. The property empire that he had inherited from his father had vastly increased under Tim Ingledown's expert trusteeship, and was now getting on in value towards several hundreds of millions. From the income that this brought in, Jon took about 25%, much of which was spent on maintenance of his and David's personal properties: the flat in Fountain Street, Rockwell's Barn, the flat in London and the houses in Heemstede, Madeira and Montecatini Terme, though he did pay a small allowance to Luke which was only double what he had paid him as a student. Another 40% went in tax. Ten percent went into a fund to support Cathy, and a further 10% went into a new trust fund for Luke and Tom, which paid Luke a direct income of £10K per annum. Tom had elected not to draw a share of the income for the moment, he had a perfectly adequate income of his own. The rest of the income was invested in bonds and shares for the acquisition of more land and property when the opportunity arose. Tim had advised him that a financial crisis was approaching, and it would be better to realize some of this money and give it away, rather than let it disappear in a slump. 

Jon decided that his two pet trusts, the Afforestation Trust and the Drystone Walling Trust should have £2M each, and that Buckingham College, Saint Boniface's College and the Edmund Heptinstall Educational Trust should all have £10M each. The Camford Men's Fitness Centre would get the last few thousand of its debt for the new extension paid off. The Collegiate Church of Saint Andrew, Tokeham was to receive £1M. He got Tim to make sure that he was not identified as the donor (the funds belonged to a Trust of which he and Tim were the sole trustees). 

Jon cared little for politics, but Tim had advised him that the higher education system was going to undergo even greater "dumbing down" in the future years and that all the best institutions would undergo pressures to lower their standards. To protect the elite institutions would require a massive input of private donations to ensure their freedom from financial dependence on the state, and so he picked out the two Camford institutions that had served his family best, Boni's, his employer, and Buckingham, where Luke and Tom had been taught. The Trust would signal to both colleges that a proportion of the gift should be spent on their respective fund-raising activities, and that 20% should be put into their endowments, not spent immediately. The rest could be employed for any purposes for building improvement and academic development that the Governing Body chose.

The donation to the Heptinstall Trust was to ensure that the best and most brilliant students, irrespective of family background, should continue to receive a totally free education, by making scholarships available not just to those beginning their studies, but to those who gave the most spectacular results in their first year exams. Fifty percent of the awards should be set aside for the latter category, who would be nominated by their college or university department. No formal means test of parental income would be applied, the Trust would expect the nominating college or department to be aware of the candidates' financial circumstances. The number of such students was obviously going to be limited by the cash available, and this should act as a motivating factor to stimulate hard academic work rather than laziness. Already, after a mere three years, Heptinstall Scholarships, thanks to the hard work of Tom's former teacher, Bernard Silverdale, had become glittering academic prizes that Jon and Tim hoped would reinvigorate British higher education at an individual level. The Trust had established an active fundraising programme, and already the number of scholarships available each year had doubled. A lot of wealthy people were happy to think that they were actively helping impoverished young men and women to do well academically.

The donation to St Andrew's, Tokeham was to remove the eighteenth century plaster, make necessary external repairs, renovate and clean the interior and reorder the furnishings to suit choir concerts, including the installation of toilet facilities, all of course subject to the necessary legal faculties.

All this had to be kept secret, because Jon did not want to become a figure mentioned in the media, of which he had a venomous loathing and distrust. So not even the heads of the two beneficiary colleges knew the identity of the man behind the Trust's donation. Jon had previously made regular donations to his college since he became of age, and this fact was of course known to the President of Boni's, and was the reason for Jon's Honorary Fellowship. The fact that he had been a much appreciated tutor to Boni's first year chemistry students, did not seem to figure much in the equation. 



Chapter Nine: Ben comes to dinner

One day when Tom was out jogging with Ben Curtiss, the American postdoc, their conversation got on to the topic of sexuality. Ben commented on how Italian men seemed to have little conception of fidelity. Tom said that he had had little experience of them, but was inclined to agree. He said that from his admittedly limited experience, research seemed to go better when one's work was free of distractions like new love affairs. He said that he was only in Italy because of his love for his partner, but as they both had a lifetime commitment, they both could just get quietly on with their jobs, as they knew that there was always someone to go home to. Tom said that this was much more conducive to hard work. "That's Dr Sescantanto's problem," said Ben. "He's been a pain in the ass for the last year since his last relationship broke up. He's gay, you know, and he has found to his dismay that young men are only interested in him for what they can get. No-one wants a relationship with an older man unless there's money to be got. He's fishing in the wrong pool. He should be looking out for a man of his own age." 

"I didn't know that he was gay," said Tom. 

"Haven't you noticed him eyeing you up?" 

"No," Tom replied, "I've got a very poor sense of gaydar. But that might explain why I find him difficult to talk to. Certainly on our present basis, there is little chance of him trying to chat me up! What's he really like as a person?" 

"He's very nice. Quite thoughtful of other people, rather laid back about his gayness, gives excellent parties twice a year for everyone in the lab, supportive of his co-workers and in every way a good man to work for!" 

"In that case, I wish he was a bit more forthcoming with me. Our conversations are always very stiff and awkward." 

"Maybe he envies the fact that you are happy in a fixed relationship. When are we going to be allowed to meet your partner?" 

"Why don't you come to dinner with us one night when Luke is not working? Either I will cook for us, or we'll get our cleaner to come in and cook. How about next Wednesday?" 

"I'd love to. What time?" 

"Say 7 pm for about 8. That will give us, or you and Luke, if I'm cooking, the chance to get a few drinks in first. Moreover, it'll give me a chance to have an evening speaking English. You may think it silly, but for the last four months, Luke and I have been speaking only Italian at home. It's the only way to get my Italian up to standard." 

"Your Italian is already better than mine." 

"Yes, but I have the advantage of being able to practise my Italian in bed!" For Tom, that was a risqué remark. He rarely used suggestive or offensive language in English or Italian, whereas Luke had a rich vocabulary of choice Italian obscenities. He had taught many of these to Tom, but it was not in Tom's more delicate nature to use them.

On the evening of Ben's visit, Tom decided that he would do the cooking, and produced an Anglo-Italian meal. It began with a small helping of home-cooked lasagne, with as main course a fish pie with peas and green beans, and ended with panna cotta with chocolate sauce. They got through two bottles of Frascati with the meal. The evening gave Tom and Luke the chance to find out a bit more about Ben. 

When he was introduced to Luke, Luke asked him where he came from. Ben said that he was a New Englander, and had done his Bachelor's and Ph.D. degrees at Harvard. He also had come to Italy, it seemed, because of a love affair. He had fallen in love with a female postdoc called Giovanna, who at the end of her contract at Harvard had returned to a permanent academic job in Trabizona, in the department of Linguistics. Ben had been very keen to marry her, but she said that she wanted to establish a career first. So then he asked if she would move in with him, and she said that she would consider the matter. That had been several weeks ago, and she had still not made up her mind. To Tom and Luke the conclusion was obvious. She was not in love with Ben. Unfortunately, Ben was so smitten with her that he could not end the affair and look for someone else. Both boys told Ben that he had two alternatives: to forget her and get on with his work, or to look for someone else. "You could always try men!" said Luke. "Italy is full of nice boys, many of whom are gay. Men are much more able to make up their minds than women are! Lots of men are bi. You might be one. Try looking at attractive men and see what effect they have on you between your legs!" Ben looked embarrassed, even though he didn't blush.

"Don't mind him, Ben," said Tom, "he was brought up by a gay couple, so he has no delicacy on sexual matters. He often makes me blush! There are also a lot of nice Italian girls, and they can't all be spoken for."

"I have never considered a gay lifestyle," said Ben. 

"What! You must be twenty-eight at least, and never wondered what it would be like to fuck a man or be fucked by one? Or even what it would be like just to kiss one? Even if you've never done it, you must surely have thought about it?" said Luke. "Even if you are religious, a God who loves us can only bless loving relationships, even between humans of the same sex." 

"Are you trying to lead me astray?" asked Ben with a grin. 

"Not unless you want to be!" said Tom. "Unless you have religious reservations, or the idea of sex with a man fills you with total revulsion, you ought to consider a same-sex partnership. Being gay is not all about blow-jobs in toilets or dark alleys! We are both Christian believers and our partnership has been blessed in private by an ordained priest. We are proud to offer our relationship to God." 

"I didn't think that Europeans were religious any more!" said Ben. "Hence the spread of public gayness and gay weddings and so on." 

"Do you have any religious faith? Most Americans still do. In that respect, the US is a much better and more godly nation than most of the European Union." 

"I was brought up to believe that homosexuality is sinful." 

"But do you still believe that? Did you when you were younger, or even maybe still, feel attracted to men and boys?" said Luke. "Don't feel that you have to answer that question, just think about it! I'm not suggesting that you try to bed the first man that takes your fancy. But do look at men and other women, and think seriously about dumping Giovanna. If she says she can't make up her mind, it's not worth the trouble of pursuing her! It's usually men who are reluctant to commit themselves to a relationship, so if a woman feels like that, it's a warning sign that you shouldn't ignore." 

"I came here to relax with a couple of guys, and drink a few beers or glasses of wine, and I end up getting advice about my love-life!" 

"That's what friends are for!" said Tom. "Any kind of decision about life and relationships merits discussion. The best way to make a bad decision is to consult no-one." 

"True, but it's a widespread practice of governments to consult widely about legislative action, and still make the wrong decision!"

The evening ended with both Tom and Ben feeling that they had got to know one another better. As both were basically loners who did not make friends easily, this was obviously a good development.



Chapter Ten: Sandro's first term begins 

Soon after Sandro had arrived in Camford, Jon asked him if he should pull some strings in Boni's to get Sandro a single room. He told him that he might get one in any case, but as a freshman, it was equally likely that he would get a duplex room, with separate bedrooms, but a shared sitting room. Equally it was by no means certain that he would get a room with en-suite bathroom facilities. While the college was increasing the number of such rooms, there were still quite a lot with shared facilities on the staircase. Sandro said, no, he was quite content to get whatever he was allocated, shared or single. 

The day before the start of term, Jon drove him to the college, parked the car in Fellows' car park, and introduced Sandro to the head porter as his nephew. After Sandro had received his room allocation, Jon helped him carry his bags and possessions to his new room. He said to Sandro, "Well you're on your own now, Sandro. If you need any help, please text or E-mail me. Only phone me in the evenings or if it's urgent. You can come round to the flat at any time, but I will probably not see you very often in college during term time. I usually dine in college on Sunday evenings with your Uncle David, but as a freshman, you will be eating at the informal early dining session, so we won't see one another then."

Sandro's college room turned out to be a single room, with a washbasin in the bedroom, but the remaining bathroom facilities were on the staircase, shared with four other single rooms. It was comfortably furnished with among other things, two armchairs, but no sofa. Sandro soon got to know the four men with whom he shared the bathroom. All were freshmen. Two were sport-obsessed, rowing and playing rugby respectively and prone to leaving grubby sports shorts, socks and jock-straps in the bathroom, to the annoyance of the bedders who took turns to clean it. The other two, one reading physics, the other modern languages, were friendly and interesting.

Once his lectures had begun, Sandro found himself quite busy. He had six lectures per week, a shared tutorial with the college's applied mathematics and engineering tutor and three afternoons of practical work involving engineering drawing, workshop technology and materials testing. Written work for his tutorials involved essays and numerical examples, and the short Camford terms meant that to get through his workload, he had to work in his room about three evenings per week. He found the work enjoyable and stimulating, and despite a lack of family background in the field, he was glad of his choice of subject. There were two other first-year students in Boni's reading engineering, and as the three of them shared the tutorial sessions, he soon made friends with them, as with some of the men on his staircase, and usually was not lacking in someone to talk to during the informal first-year dining sessions. The three engineering students would go out drinking together, exploring the Camford pubs, every Friday evening.




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 02



When it came to relationships, Sandro was far from hot-blooded. He had never fallen in love as a younger teenager. Indeed, his aproaches were rather cool-blooded. Occasionally, he would sit for dinner beside Pragakorn Surabanagok, the Thai girl whom he had met in the summer. She was an attractive girl, and Sandro rather fancied her. Round about the middle of term, over coffee in the JCR after dinner, he asked her if she was interested in cinema. She was, and they began to go to films together at the Rialto, Camford's art-house cinema, which was still maintaining a struggling existence in the midst of multiplex cinemas showing 90% rubbish. Being Italian, and therefore anxious not to 'court too slow', at their first visit (to see an Italian film with English subtitles), he got hold of her hand. She let him hold it for the duration of the programme. After the film, he invited her to come with him to a nearby pub for a drink. 

She seemed pleased to be in his company, and they talked about life in college. He asked her if she liked English food. She said that it was OK, but that she preferred Thai food. Sandro said, "Let's sign out of dinner on Saturday and go to the Thai restaurant in Canterbury Street!" Pragakorn said that she did not know that there was a Thai restaurant in Camford. Sandro of course had sussed out all the eating places during his summer stay in the town. He had to rely on his looks to interest this oriental girl, because seductive talk was not easy for him in English and in any case the culture gap between East and West was not easy for him (or any Western male) to bridge. He had not chosen an easy girl to date! 

Their Saturday dinner went well, but on their return to college, Pragakorn, on being invited to have coffee in Sandro's room, said no. She had a slight headache and preferred to go to bed. So although it had been a pleasant evening, Sandro was no further with a relationship. However, the two still met regularly to go to the cinema, and still held hands. After three such visits, Sandro asked diffidently if he might kiss her. She said yes, but when they kissed, there was evidently little passion on either side, so they decided to stick with holding hands.

On Monday afternoons, Sandro was free at 3 pm, and he usually went for a swim at the Fitness Centre. None of his college friends were members (even at under-25 rates, the subscription was too dear for many undergraduates), so he used to go alone. Although he did not think of himself as gay, he always eyed up the other men in the pool and the changing rooms. About week 6 of the term, he noticed in the showers an astonishingly beautiful young man with short blond, curly hair, and suntanned body, slim, tall and muscular in build with a good-sized uncut dick. He was obliged to turn his back on the man out of fear that the object of his gaze should notice his stiffening cock. He concentrated on soaping himself. If he had been older, or more sexually oriented, he would probably have recognized the telltale significance of that erection. 

When he was dry, it was only 5 pm, dinner in college was not until 6-30, and he only had some numerical problems to finish off that evening, so he went into the bar for a drink. He ordered a pint of West London bitter. Looking up, his eye was caught by the beautiful man he had seen in the showers, who had just come into the room. The man came and stood beside him and ordered beer. He looked at him shyly and the man replied with a grin. At close quarters, Sandro realized that the man was only in his early twenties. "What are you drinking?" asked the man. 

"WLB" said Sandro, proud that he already knew the local name. 

"You're new, aren't you? How long have you been in Camford?" 

"About three months," Sandro replied. 

"You're not English, are you?" asked the man. 

"No, I'm Italian." 

"Do you come here often?" said the man, reverting to an ancient chat-up line. 

"Most weeks," said Sandro non-committally. "I need the exercise." 

"You look pretty fit to me," said the man, looking at him appraisingly. "Are you into speed swimming?" 

"No, but I'm willing to have a try." 

"Right! Shall we meet at Reception next Monday at 3 pm?" 

"OK."





Chapter Eleven: A weekend in Orta

Towards the end of November, it was still warm by British climatic standards, and it got dark later in the evenings, so on the one weekend in the month when Luke was not working on the Saturday, he and Tom made their way by car to Orta, on the lake of the same name, to do the pilgrimage that he had promised Tom nearly two years before, when he had done it with his 'fag-hag', Leonora. 

They got there about 10 am and spent the day touring the World Heritage Site of the Sacro Monte. At that time of the year, there were few visitors on the holy hill. At each of the chapels that depict an incident in the life of Saint Francis, they stopped for a prayer, and also a snogging session. They each had a card, which had twenty-one prayers on it, in Italian of course, one for each of the chapels and one for the church at the end. In the middle of this devotional itinerary, they stopped in the shelter of one of the chapels and sat down on the steps to eat a picnic lunch and drink wine, after which they cuddled together for a few minutes and kissed passionately. 

From the temperature, someone from Northern climes would never have thought that it was November. There were still even a few yellow or brown leaves left on the deciduous trees, while the conifers glowed in their winter green. A warmish breeze circulated through the trees, and for the first time, Tom began to feel at home in his new land, realizing that back in England it would be wet, cold and foggy. 

They concluded their tour with a prayer in the Franciscan church of San Nicolà, before descending the hill, hand in hand back to their hotel. It was the same hotel where Luke and Leonora had stayed nearly two years before, but this time, instead of the chaste occupancy of two single rooms, (Leonora intended to enter a religious order) Tom and Luke occupied a double room with a huge double bed.

There was plenty of time for a shower. It was a roomy shower cabinet, and they undressed rapidly and turned on the water. When it had reached the right temperature, they both stepped inside and let the water pour over them before Tom started to rub shampoo into Luke's long hair. After he had rubbed the shampoo in and Luke had rinsed it off, they embraced and began to kiss. Luke ran his lips over Tom's hairy chest, kissed his shoulders and the nape of Tom's neck and then rubbed the Storing pour Homme shampoo into Tom's crew-cut hair. It only took a couple of minutes before rinsing it off and they could embrace and resume their osculatory exploration of each other's bodies, while at the same time running their hands over each other's shoulders and back. By now of course they each had rock-hard cocks, and in spite of the stream of water, precome was visible, exuding copiously from the tips of their engorged tools. Luke knelt down and continued his kissing downwards from Tom's waist at the back, over each of his deliciously hairy arse cheeks and ending up in the cleft of Tom's arse. His dick started to throb with lust. 

Tom in the meantime ran his hand through Luke's dripping hair. "I love you, my darling fag-boy," he said. "You are my whole life and my whole future. You will be my darling boy even in fifty years time. We may end up as a pair of old queens, but we will be loving and faithful old queens! Fifty years of fucking each other is the most wonderful thing outside God's love that I can think of. Being partners is indeed combining maximum temptation with maximum opportunity! Bend over, I want to get inside that arsehole of yours!" Tom stepped out of the shower and dried himself sufficiently to roll a condom on his tool. He stepped back into the shower cell and said to Luke, "As we've got soap, we don't need any lube," and proceeded to rub soap into Luke's hole, while at the same time kissing Luke's slim but muscular buttocks with great enthusiasm. Luke obligingly bent over and offered his rear end to Tom, who in no time at all slipped inside and got to work with his tool. After the male miracle had taken place, Tom remained with his arms clutching Luke round the chest, kissing his spine and the nape of his neck, until Tom's limp and tired tool slipped out of his partner's back passage. 

Tom pulled the rubber off his dick and knotted it, before increasing the flow of water to wash the seed off his penis. "Do you want a go?" he asked Luke. 

"Not just at present," said Luke, "I just want to get dried and cuddle up in your arms." They began to dry one another, each paying close attention to each other's genitals, carefully lifting up the cock and drying the ball-bag and perineum carefully, and then kissing the dried area, before applying Storing pour Homme to each other's crotch. When dry, they lay on the bed and played comfortably with each other's bodies in a semi-somnolent state. 

Suddenly Luke's tummy began to rumble. They looked at the clock. It was 6-30. "Time for a drink and then dinner," said Luke. Dressed, they went downstairs and entered the bar, and ordered a Campari-orange juice each. In spite of the mild weather, there was no possibility of eating in the open air. "This is so much more peaceful than Trabizona," said Luke, "and even without the spirituality of the Sacro Monte, this would be a place of quiet and great beauty. Next time we come, we must visit the old nunnery on the island." 

As they sat there, an elderly couple entered the bar, accompanied by a young girl in her twenties. When they saw her, both Tom and Luke jumped to their feet. "Leonora!" they both cried out together. Leonora looked at them in some surprise and no little embarrassment. She rapidly recovered however, and introduced the two boys to her equally surprised parents. The boys explained that they were now resident in Trabizona, and had come to Orta for the spiritual itinerary of the Sacro Monte. Luke thanked Leonora for having introduced him to that spiritual place. Leonora had to admit that she had never told her parents about Luke dating her. Luke said that he had never told his mother about dating her either! Fortunately Leonora's parents did not seem at all upset by the discovery of Luke and Leonora's undisclosed trips to the opera and to Orta. They invited the boys to join them for dinner and the boys accepted.

Leonora's mother began a conversation with Tom during the meal, and to his own amazement, Tom found himself chatting reasonably smoothly in Italian. Her father engaged Luke in conversation, while Leonora quietly got on with eating her meal. Luke revealed that he now worked in the operatic business as a trainee theatre manager and that Tom was a Ph.D. student at Trabizona University. Tom was quite animatedly telling Leonora's mother about the problems that he had had in learning Italian, but how rewarding all the hard work had been. "If Latin was the universal language of scholarship, Italian is the universal language of culture," he said. Leonora told the boys that she was now in her last year at Bologna University, and that shortly thereafter she would enroll as a probationary novice. After eating, the five of them went into the lounge for coffee, and when the boys said that they had to leave early the next day to drive to the Mascagnolis' for lunch, they all arranged to meet for breakfast.

Leonora did not turn up for breakfast. She told her parents that she was not unwell, just not hungry. She did not tell them about the boys' relationship. So much became apparent when the four talked over breakfast. Tom told them that he and Luke were gay civil partners, and Luke said that was why Leonora felt safe enough to go to the opera with him. Gay men neither threatened nor tempted women! Leonora's mother revealed that she and her husband were not entirely happy with Leonora's religious vocation, she was their only child and they had hoped for grandchildren. Luke said, smiling apologetically that he was very fond of Leonora: she was the only female apart from his sister and mother who did not scare him, but that the chances of him giving Leonora a child were zero! He said that he himself was the illegitimate son of an Italian 'Don Juan' who had seduced his mother, and that maybe Leonora was better off in a convent. "In spite of my parentage, I am most definitely NOT a typical Italian male!" he said. 

Before they left, David gave Leonora's parents his business card, which he asked them to give to her. It had his cellphone number on it, and he wrote his home address on the back. After bidding goodbye to the elderly couple, the boys packed up, paid their bill and drove off to the small town near Verona where the Mascagnolis lived. They arrived in time for lunch and spent a pleasant Sunday with Luke's mother and family. 



TO BE CONTINUED...




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 03



Chapter Twelve: Sandro and the blond stranger 

The following week, Sandro turned up at the Fitness Centre at 3 pm, and sure enough the handsome blond was there to meet him. In the changing room, which at that moment was unoccupied, they undressed side-by-side. As he pulled his jeans down, Sandro could feel his tool stiffening. The stranger noticed the bulge in his underpants and grinned. Then Sandro noticed that the stranger's underpants also had a large tent in the front. "By the way, my name is Jack," he said, "What's yours?" 

"Sandro," Sandro replied, "It's short for Alessandro." Without saying anything, Sandro rapidly disengaged his underpants from his semi-erect manhood and pulled on his swimming trunks. They were Italian, bright orange in colour, brief and low-cut at the front with a threequarter back. They fitted his slim figure beautifully, and scarcely concealed his erection. Jack's were standard Speedo brand in black and served to conceal his manhood rather better. He momentarily put his arm round Sandro's shoulders as they walked to the showers. He was very tall, well over two metres, Sandro reckoned. Sandro himself was about 1 m 95 cm.

It was a relief to Sandro to get under the shower. He was conscious that he smelt of sweat. Jack exuded a faint attractive odour that Sandro recognized as also being worn by Jon. Later, when they were dressing, he discovered that it was an expensive Belgian male fragrance called Storing pour Homme, popular in the late twentieth century among gay men. Further thought reminded him that his brother and Tom must also use it, as he remembered that he had smelt the same scent on them. He realized that unless he pulled back soon, he was heading for some kind of gay sexual contact. 

They entered the pool, dived into the water side-by-side, and began to swim rapidly. To his relief, Sandro felt his penile hardness subsiding. They had agreed to swim twenty lengths, 500 m, in the fastest time possible. Sandro had a big advantage, he was younger and lighter in weight, but he did not win easily. His opponent was obviously a very fit and experienced swimmer. It was neck and neck, and in the end, Jack won by about twenty seconds. The pool was quiet, so Sandro challenged Jack to a second round, which this time he won. Breathless, they climbed out of the water and sat for a few minutes at the poolside before re-entering the water for a few leisurely lengths. 

When they left the pool there was a short, darkish corridor to the changing room, and Jack took advantage of the gloom to grab Sandro and kiss him. Sandro felt his warm, sensuous lips and a tongue poking between his own lips. He opened his mouth and the tongue entered it. Sandro felt as if an electric shock was passing through him. He had been kissed by men before, but only by members of the family. Tom for instance had never kissed him. The sensation was startling, shocking but extremely pleasant. It was over in perhaps half a minute, but it was quite unforgettable. They got showered and dressed and Jack invited Sandro to come and have dinner with him in his graduate hostel. Sandro refused because he had not signed out of dinner, but they agreed to meet the following week and Sandro would sign out. 

Chapter Thirteen: Tom's phone calls 

(1). From Sandro Mascagnoli to Tom Appleton (in Italian)

S: "Buon giorno, Tom, è Sandro. I know you're my 'brother', but I want to talk to someone who is not a blood relative about being gay. Can you spare a few minutes to talk?"

T: "Of course, Sandro, what do you want to ask?"

S: "I think that I'm gay."

T: "What do you mean, think? Sandro, you are old enough now to have some idea of your sexuality. What reaction do you have when you look at a nice woman? Does your cock get stiff?"

S: "No."

T: "What? Never?"

S: "Well, maybe sometimes then. It depends how nubile she looks!"

[Sandro was getting proud of his English vocabulary!]

T: "What about when you look at a nice man?" 

S: "I get a hard-on."

T: "There you are then! And porn: what sort of internet porn appeals to you?"

S: "Blow-jobs, anal or anything gay. But I don't use porn very often."

T: "What do you think about when you wank?"

[Clearly, Sandro's vocabulary of English dirty words had progressed rapidly!]

S: "The man that I go swimming with. You might know him, he's a chemistry Ph.D. student."

T: "Well, Sandro, there's your answer. You might be bi, but it's more likely that you're gay. Look, I won't tell anyone, not even Luca, what we've talked about. If you fancy this guy, go for it! But be careful, always have condoms with you. And always keep in mind that however nice sex may be, love is even better. Don't let yourself get fucked just to find out what it's like to have man's cock up your arsehole. If that's what you want, you'll be better off with a dildo! Scusi, non so la parola italiana." (Sorry, I don't know the Italian word). "Maybe dildo IS an Italian word. Only get anal with someone whom you really love. Have you actually had any kind of sex with him yet?"

S: "Only kissing." 

T: "If you want him, try a blow-job. If he's a nice guy, he'll help you with anything you need to learn. If he's not a nice guy, get out now before it's too late."

S: "Grazie, Tom, you've been very helpful."

(2). Tom Appleton to David Singleton-Scarborough (in English).

T: "Hi, David, it's Tom. I want to ask you a question about bioassays. I know that it's donkey's years since you were an active scientist, but I want to talk to someone with a biological background. The materials that we synthesize in our lab are tested in laboratory animals. The tests are carried out for us by a specialist laboratory, and take three weeks. Is there any other bioassay system that we might use that we could carry out ourselves and get results more quickly?"

D: "Well, Tom, it's nice to use my mind for something other than memorizing words and music! Are your materials inhibitors of the synthesis of some metabolite?"

T: "Yes."

D: "Is the metabolite easy to measure?" 

D: "Yes. There are several methods."

D: "What you need then is a microbiological assay. You need to find a bacterium, probably a mutant, that excretes the metabolite whose synthesis you want to block. If you can measure the concentration of the metabolite, you can use the system to test the inhibitory effect of your synthetic products by measuring metabolite concentration in the presence of various concentrations of your synthetic product by an active bacterial suspension. Ideally you need a colorimetric measuring method, and then you could screen dozens of samples using microtitre plates and an overnight incubation. In that way you can run enough replicates to avoid statistical errors. Do you have a microtitre plate reader?"

T: "No, but I think I can get access to one. Well, thanks very much, David. I'll see what I can do with those ideas. And, by the way, thank you and bless you for giving me Luke. I don't know what my life would have been like without him. He's the light of my life."

D: "I know exactly how you feel, Tom. I've missed my son since you left us. And we won't be seeing you at Christmas, either."

T: "No, Luke has to work between Christmas and New Year."

 Chapter Fourteen: Things get hotter between Sandro and Jack

When Sandro and Jack met the following week, events followed essentially the same pattern as the previous week. Sandro had been full of hesitation and nervous about what might happen, but he was in no doubt that he wanted to get to know Jack and find out what being gay was like. This week, Jack won both the two races and the kissing session was much longer. It was clear that both were enjoying it. They went for a drink in the bar before they left, and used the time to find out more about each other. As he sipped a pint of WLB, Sandro told Jack that he was a freshman at Boni's, reading engineering. Jack revealed that he was a first-year Ph.D. student in chemistry, living in the graduate hostel of Islip College and that his surname was Meredith. "You must know my uncle then," Sandro said, "Jon Singleton-Scarborough, first year tutor in chemistry at Boni's." Naming his uncle might serve, he thought, as a sort of warning to Jack not to try to anything that he, Sandro did not want. 

"Oh, yes, the gay tutor at Boni's. He's very popular among the freshmen at Boni's because of his post-exam party for his students every year at his house in the country at Ixton. I believe that his partner is a singer." 

"I've not been to Ixton yet, I've been in Camford ever since I arrived in England. The college insisted that I do the TOEFL and get top grade in it. Yes, Jon's partner is my Uncle David, who's currently singing in 'Otello' at Covent Garden." 

Islip College was in the centre of Camford, but its graduate hostel was on the other side of the river Camwell, too far away for the residents to eat in Hall, so the hostel had its own cafeteria. Those residents who wanted formal dining could sign into Hall dinner a maximum of twice per week. When they arrived Jack said to Sandro, "You can leave your kit in my room while we eat." 

They went to the self-service canteen and ate a substantial two-course meal, looking at each other appraisingly across a table for two. Both liked what they saw. Sandro, like his brother, had the Italian taste for stylish clothes. His pocket was not as deep as Luke's, so he did not have a lot of designer items, but he had never bought any clothes in England, except for a St Boniface's college hoody, and it showed. Jack, while admiring the cut of his clothes, thought that Sandro's long black wavy hair and slim brown body were particularly delicious. Sandro weighed, he reckoned, about 65 kilos. He wanted this cute boy to fall in love with him, and determined to do his best to attract him without disturbing or upsetting him. He wanted not just to kiss him but to cradle him in his arms. He had a good idea that the boy was a virgin, at least where men were concerned, and his intentions were not to make any advances that might be upsetting until Sandro had made up his mind what he wanted to do. He felt that they should start going out together to films or concerts, so that they could get to know one another better. 

Sandro was thinking how nice it would be to have a man friend of his own age group to go out with. He rather fancied this muscular older but slim and athletic male, weighing perhaps 85 kilos with natural blond hair like his Uncle David. He decided that if he, Sandro, was not gay, he was certainly bi. Just to test out the situation, he said to Jack, "Do you have any girlfriends?" 

Jack grinned. "What do you think? If I were into women, would I have kissed you? No, I'm as queer as a nine-pound note!" Sandro needed to think about that expression for a moment before he saw its meaning and then he also grinned. "But that doesn't mean that I'm going to rape you, or even seduce you," Jack continued. "If we end up having sex, it will be because you want it! In the meantime, I want us to get better acquainted. Do you like cinema?" 

"Yes, currently I go once a week with a girl. But as a relationship, it's not getting anywhere, so I will try and stop going out with her. She's sweet, but because she's oriental, she's rather inscrutable. I don't think she will mind if I end it." 

"Just to reassure you, Sandro, I will not try and distract you from your studies. We both have to work hard here if we want to earn our living in interesting jobs later on. But as you've probably found already, in Camford you will never be bored or have time on your hands. What sort of films do you like?" 

"I like going to the Rialto. My Uncle Jon introduced me to it. It's the only place in Camford where I can see Italian films." 

"Do you ever go to ordinary multiplex cinemas?" 

"Well, I did go to see 'Brokeback Mountain'," confessed Sandro. 

"There you are then Sandro! You are curious, aren't you? You want to know what being gay is like!" 

"Yes, but all the hot scenes in 'Brokeback Mountain' were heterosexual ones."

They went back to Jack's room for Sandro to collect his kit. No sooner was the door shut, than Jack grabbed Sandro and began to kiss him passionately. Sandro responded, kissing him back with equal vigour. He began to stroke Jack's back, moving his hand slowly downwards and began to caress Jack's rounded yet muscular arse. It felt good. It was clear that Sandro wanted sex, so forgetting his previous caution, Jack in turn gently unzipped Sandro's jeans, slipped his hand inside and began to feel around for Sandro's cock, which was hard as nails and oozing precome. Sandro did not find this invasion of his private parts an intrusion; indeed it felt very nice. He did not object when Jack undid his belt and pulled his jeans and briefs down to his ankles. He continued to encircle Jack with his right arm, until Jack suddenly knelt down. "Has anyone ever given you a blow-job, Sandro?" he asked. 

"No," replied Sandro. He felt his pulse quicken and he needed to take a deep breath. Jack began to lick the shaft of Sandro's dick and to nuzzle it with his lips. Sandro moaned with pleasure. Jack moved his mouth downwards and began to lick his balls and took one gently into his mouth. Sandro felt as if he was in heaven. A hot man playing with his genitals was an out-of-this-world experience for him. He could feel a tightening in that region that presaged something nice. Jack moved rapidly along his shaft and started nibbling Sandro's foreskin. Sandro giggled in delight. The next moment, Jack had the head of his dick in his mouth and was playing with it with his lips and tongue. He made chewing movements with his jaws which sent a delightful sensation through the whole of Sandro's lower body. 

Unable to remain passive, he put his hand behind Jack's head and began to make fucking movements in Jack's mouth. Jack opened his mouth wide and let Sandro push as deeply as he could to the back of his throat. The tension in Sandro's loins became unbearable, and unable to stop himself, he came with a muffled shout and shot two successive loads of man-juice into Jack's welcoming mouth. Sandro, exhausted, watched Jack swallow his spunk avidly and lick his lips before he jumped up and took Sandro in his arms. "Sandro, you're a very sweet boy. Thank you for letting me give you head. You taste wonderful!" and he kissed Sandro and squeezed him before going into the bathroom, returning with a tissue with which he carefully and gently wiped Sandro's tool, trying to avoid setting off another stiffie. He then wrapped another tissue round Sandro's cock to prevent post-ejaculatory oozing messing up his clothes and pulled up Sandro's underpants, which were skimpy low-cut briefs, like his swimming trunks. He then kissed Sandro, who could taste his own come on Jack's delicious lips. "Can I stay here for a short while, please? It's not late, and I just want to recover a bit," Sandro said, as he pulled up and fastened his jeans. 

"You can spend the night here, if you like," said Jack, "but the bed is a bit narrow for two!" 

"I don't think that I'm ready to sleep with you yet," said Sandro. "I enjoyed being sucked, but I want to get used to the idea of sex with a man, and I want to get to know you better." 

"I couldn't agree more!" said Jack, "We need to get to know one another better. Friendship is better first and sex second, we've done things the wrong way round. Let's slow down on the lovemaking." They arranged to see an Italian film at the Rialto the following Tuesday.

The two boys consumed a cup of coffee each, and after half an hour, Sandro left and crossed the river to Boni's. It took him a long time to get to sleep that night. His mind was a turmoil of impressions, sensations and thoughts. Uppermost in his mind was that he was GAY. Second in his mind was Jack Meredith, with his narrow hips, trim arse, broad shoulders and beautiful curly blond hair. Only thirdly did he think about his experience of having his cock sucked. About 1-00 am he fell asleep, conscious that he had a nine-o'clock lecture the next morning. 

 Chapter Fifteen: The end of Sandro's first term 

Early in December, the Martinmas Term at Camford University came to an end. By now, Sandro was going out with Jack twice a week, once to the cinema and once to the Fitness Centre, and was well on the way to being in love. He had not yet got to the stage of aching to see his new boyfriend every day, but he found himself looking forward with great desire to their meetings. He would sign out of dinner on the nights he met Jack and they would eat together, either at the Venezia or in Jack's hostel, where of course Jack always paid.

Jack too, rather against his will, was rapidly developing tender feelings towards this boy. He was so sweet and trusting, so keen to kiss and hold hands, so happy to listen intently to every word that Jack said, that what had begun as a calculated exercise on Jack's part, seemed already to be developing into a serious relationship. Maybe, thought Jack, I've done enough sleeping around and casual fucking, and I ought be thinking of something more permanent. Very few of Jack's previous boyfriends had reacted so deliriously joyously to a blow-job. It had usually been a case of suck and zip up. 

At the end of term, Sandro had to move out of college rapidly, as his room was needed for the conference trade, by which Camford colleges try to balance their substantial budgets. Sandro's unwanted items had been locked away in a cupboard in college and he had moved with his essential luggage back to his uncles' flat in Fountain Street. Before he left for home, Jon asked him what he wanted as a Christmas gift from himself and David. Sandro asked for some Storing pour Homme perfume and toiletries. Jon looked startled

"Sandro, I would love to buy them for you, but you do know what signals this will be sending out, don't you?" Sandro nodded firmly. He hesitated to say anything, he just blushed. Jon grinned and kissed him on the top of his head, and whispered in his ear "Someone is a lucky guy. I hope he deserves the attention!" 

Just before Sandro left, Jon gave him a gift-wrapped package. "Here's your Christmas present, Sandro. You had better open it before you go to Italy. It might be embarrassing if you opened it in front of your parents and Tom and Luke! Luke would be certain to start giggling. And don't start to use it unless you trust the company that you are in!"

The last time that he met Jack was the night before Sandro was due to leave for home. They had had dinner at the Venezia, and then gone back to Jack's room for coffee. "Next term," said Sandro, "I'll take you back to college for coffee. Jack, please, please suck me off. I want something to remember you by in the next month back home." 

Jack's heart melted when he heard this. He took Sandro into his arms and kissed him tenderly before removing his shirt. He then continued kissing the boy's neck and shoulders and administering gentle love bites, before starting to nibble his nipples. Sandro nearly went crazy. He put both arms round Jack's shoulders and wriggled with delight. Jack's lips moved slowly down Sandro's lithe body until they reached his navel. He pulled Sandro's lower garments down to his ankles, after which the nuzzling and nibbling began again, and Jack followed the dark treasure trail down Sandro's belly until he reached the black forest surrounding the boy's manhood. The hair was silky soft, not wiry, and Jack buried his mouth in it, sniffing the fragrance of sweet boy-sweat. Sandro was moaning in delight. Next Jack moved his mouth to Sandro's balls, and began to lick and suck them. A quiver shook the boy. Jack slid his lips along the smooth skin on the shaft of Sandro's tool and began to nibble his foreskin. Sandro's quivering got more intense. "Open your mouth, Jack!" he said, "Unless you want me to come all over your face!" Jack did as he was told, and in an instant Sandro's dick entered and at once began to spurt his white blood into Jack's mouth. Jack savoured the hot ejaculate as if it were nectar before swallowing it greedily. He stood up, grabbed Sandro and embraced him fiercely. Sandro responded equally fiercely, and it was almost as if the two men were fighting. 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 03



They then collapsed on the bed, and Jack said breathlessly, "I'll put the kettle on for coffee." As they drank it, Jack, amazing himself, said, "I want to come and see you on to the train tomorrow." Why was he doing this? He had never felt this way with any of his previous boyfriends. 

"OK," said Sandro, "but my uncle will be there as well. He's running me to the station in his car. I'll be glad to introduce you, but remember, NO KISSING. I'm not ready to come out yet, and when I do, I must tell my parents first. I think my mother will understand, she's got a a whole family of gays, but I'm worried about my father and sister."

The next day, Jon ran Sandro to Camford station in the 4x4. David was currently in Flanders, singing at the Gentse Opera. Jon helped Sandro hook his hand-luggage on to the wheeled suitcase, and they entered the platform, where Jack was waiting. "Uncle Jon, this is my friend Jack Meredith. He's a chemist, so you may know him." The London train came in and Sandro kissed his uncle, shook hands with Jack and lifted his suitcase on to the train, which immediately drew out, carrying him to London, from where he would go on the underground to London-Heathrow Airport.

The two gay men turned from watching the departing train and looked at one another, scrutinizing each other appraisingly. Both of course had seen the other before, but had never spoken. Jon recalled that his first reaction, when he had seen Jack the first time, had been that the guy was prick-raisingly beautiful. Now, looking at him closely, he saw no reason to change his original viewpoint. If his nephew fancied this man, Jon was not surprised. It seemed unlikely that they were just good friends visiting the pub or the pool together. Jon had always suspected that Sandro might turn out to be gay, but he was still quite happy to wait until Sandro decided to come out. 

Jack felt uncomfortable. He guessed that Jon thought that he and Sandro had a relationship, and was frightened of a question like, "Are you fucking my nephew?" but the question was not asked. Jon did not feel that he knew this guy well enough to wish him a good relationship with Sandro, and there was no reason at this stage to warn him off. He decided to find out a bit more about him. "Have you got time for a quick drink?" he asked. It was lunch hour. 

"Yes, sir. I'm demonstrating in the teaching lab this afternoon, but there's half an hour to spare." 

"I'll run you to the lab when we've done," said Jon, "I won't let you be late." To Jack's amazement, the name of Sandro did not crop up in the conversation that followed. Jon seemed to be more interested in him, Jack, than in his nephew. Jack told him that he was not a Camford graduate, but had come from Imperial College, London, and had just started research under one of Jon's old friends, Dr Q. He did not explain that he had left ICL because of being persistently harassed by homophobic students, and had come to the more grown-up environment of Camford, where he knew that he would be accepted as a scholar and scientist and not tormented as a faggot. They talked about his work, and Jon made a couple of shrewd suggestions as to experiments that might shed light on his research problem. Then he ran Jack back to his lab, and himself went to give a maths tutorial as part of the department's remedial teaching for first year undergraduates weak in maths technique.

At 4 pm, he went into the staff tearoom and found Dr Q. He asked him about his new research student. "Surprisingly, I know more about him that any of my other students, even though he's only done one term. I've can't show you his CV, but I can tell you what's in it. Why the interest?" 

"He's going out with my nephew."

"Ah! You know he's gay?" 

"Of course I do! It takes one to know one!" 

"Come to my office, where it's more private." Once in the office, Dr Q told Jon that Jack had been a brilliant undergraduate student, got a first in chemistry and the end-of-course medal and had been a competitive swimmer and represented ICL in various swimming competitions. However, all his time as a student had been marred by homophobic attitudes, not mere teasing and bantering, but downright harassment. Jack seemed to regard his supervisor as a sort of confidant, and had told him that he had been totally fed up of London and ICL, and wanted more adult surroundings with more sophisticated and friendly attitudes to minorities. Dr Q had recommended Jack to the Head of Department for a studentship, and Camford welcomed him with open arms. "He's a careful, hardworking, thoughtful student, a bit defensive over his gayness, but a delightful person to have in the lab, and a much appreciated member of my team, even after only ten weeks! I arranged for him to join my college, which as you know is Islip. He's given up competitive swimming: he says it takes up too much time. Of course, I can't tell you about how he spends his spare time. For all I know, he may spend hours picking up men in the Randy Soldier" he said, naming Camford's leading gay pub. Jon decided that he was not going to discuss this with David, or anyone else, but wait until Sandro had decided to come out of the closet, or rather, to come off the fence on the gay side.

 Chapter Sixteen: Professor Sescantanto's party 

On the shortest day of the year, Professor Sescantanto threw his annual Christmas party. All members of the Trabizona chemistry lab plus one guest each were invited to the professor's villa outside the town. The event took a whole day from 10 am on a Saturday to 2 am the next morning. Guests could come and go as they wished. A bus was laid on to bring them from the city, and it ferried them back again in the evening at hourly intervals from 4 pm. Tom was a bit apprehensive, as he feared a 'bunga-bunga' party of the type favoured by a well-known Italian politician who at that time was Prime Minister, but it was really pretty restrained. There was a room for conversation, a room for dancing, a sheltered verandah where one could sit out of doors, and a room to eat in. There was plenty of food, masses of drink, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, and any sex was pretty subliminal, although there was a good sprinkling of the professor's gay friends, as well as a 90% turnout of people from the lab. 

Tom felt very proud to be showing off his boyfriend. It was the first time that these people had met Luke, who was conscious of close scrutiny both by laboratory personnel and by Sescantanto's gay friends. There were large numbers of different conversational groups, some speaking English, and Luke insisted that Tom took him round each group and introduced him. Unlike Tom, he was quite gregarious. 

There must have been about sixty or seventy people at the party altogether. It turned out that Ben had brought Giovanna with him, so he had not yet taken the boys' advice to dump her. The boys found her very attractive, "as far as a woman could be," according to Luke. Tom was more positive, and felt sorry that she was not more fond of Ben. She was interested to meet both Tom and Luke, and she (as well as other people from the lab) thought that Luke was Italian. The gay guests were not all camp weirdos. There was even a couple whom Luke knew as members of the chorus at the Teatro Musicale. They looked surprised when he introduced Tom to them as his boyfriend. "We didn't know you were gay!" they said. 

"Tom and I are civil partners," Luke explained, "we are safely monogamous, or perhaps I should say monandrous, so you won't see either of us cruising or frequenting gay bars!" The two singers looked appraisingly at Tom and felt rather envious of Luke when they saw Tom's broad muscular shoulders, his short, neat hair, his smooth, well-shaven face, his flat belly leading to an interesting package in his crotch and his broad but wiry hips.

The boys spent several hours in the company of the two chorus men, drinking wine steadily but slowly, interspersed with acqua minerale. They were joined by the Professor, to whom Tom introduced Luke. As all gay men do, Sescantanto scrutinized Luke minutely, taking in his long, dark wavy hair, his brown skin, his tiny neat goatee, his narrow hips and trim arse, his slender build and the large bulge of his crotch. He did not quite lick his lips, but he obviously liked what he saw and looked at Tom with increased respect! "It is wonderful to make your acquaintance, Luca," he said in Italian. "Tom has kept you secret from us for ten months! You must both come round and have dinner with me in the New Year. What do you do for a living, Luca?" 

"I'm assistant to the Manager of the Teatro Musicale," replied Luke. "Unfortunately, I am very limited as to the evenings when I can go out, as I have to work until 10-30 at night on those evenings when we have a performance, which is about four or five nights per week." 

"No problem: I'll check the opera calendar before we fix a date. Now I know how you come to know Lorenzo and Paolo!" said the Professor, naming the two men from the chorus.

Around 4 pm, Luke realized that it was time to leave for work. While not 100% sober, he was fit enough to do his job, which that night was essentially routine. He rode on the bus into town and by 5 pm was at his desk in the theatre. Tom, left behind, remained in the company of the two chorus singers, until they in turn had to leave. He then joined a group of fellow research students who were queuing up for hot pizza. He asked them if Professor Sescantanto's parties were always like that. They told him, No, in the summer they were outdoors and everyone could use the outdoor pool. The villa had attractive gardens with many attractive nooks and crannies suitable for snogging. Most of them, being straight, did not comment on Luke. Soon, Ben and Giovanna joined them, and Tom got into conversation with Giovanna in Italian. 

She told him that she had got fed up of speaking English for most of the day. Tom agreed with her that however fluently you could speak a foreign language, it took a very long time before you could speak it spontaneously and carelessly. There was always an element of stress, and a small element of constraint, that you could never be 100% sure that you had said what you meant. 

About 8 pm, considerably fuddled, Tom staggered onto the bus and was transported to the town centre, from where he walked slowly home, made himself some coffee and got ready for bed. When Luke came in at 11 pm, Tom kissed him and said, "Let's get to bed. We've got to be in Bologna by 10-30 tomorrow for a choir practice before the service." It was the last Sunday in Advent and Holy Cross church choir were singing Mozart's 'Sancta Maria, mater Dei' as motet during the service. They each said their prayers, climbed into bed and Luke snuggled up spooned against Tom's body. They soon fell asleep.

 Chapter Seventeen: Christmas and New Year in Italy

For Tom and Luke, there had been no question of going to England for Christmas. Although the Teatro Musicale was closed on Christmas Day, San Stefano, New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, there was a performance on all the other nights between Christmas and the New Year, so Luke had to work. The boys arranged to spend Christmas and New Year with the Mascagnolis, returning to Trabizona in between. Because they wished to attend Midnight Mass at the English church in Bologna, it was necessary to book into an hotel in that city for the first hours of Christmas Day, and leave for the Mascagnolis' after breakfast. 

The opera performance on Christmas Eve was in the afternoon, which allowed the boys time to get a bite to eat before driving to Bologna. The opera chosen for the Christmas period was Rossini's 'La Cenerentola' and would be played right up to the New Year. They got to Bologna in time to check in at the hotel. 

There was a fairly big congregation for the late night service, English-speaking expats from many nations tended to turn up once a year at Christmas, even if they never saw the inside of a church at any other time, so the small church was quite full. Luke felt more emotional about his belief than he had for some time. In the reading from his namesake's gospel the wonder of the greatness of God's love hit him hard, and a few tears ran down his cheeks in the awe of realizing how amazing it was to be loved by a God whose love for humanity was so great that He could become a baby in a manger, the Word made flesh. Tom squeezed his hand in sympathy.

The boys finally got to bed about 2 am, so it was nearly 9 am before they had breakfast. They then drove to the Macagnolis' and arrived just as the family were getting back from morning mass in the local church. They were not regular churchgoers, but Christmas is after all, a major Christian festival and they would not consider missing church on that day. The boys were warmly welcomed. No-one seemed to want to speak English. Sandro had been home from Camford for nearly two weeks, and Luca greeted his brother with an embrace and a kiss. Tom shook his hand. Luca kissed Bianca, who then threw her arms round Tom and kissed him. She seemed to have developed a crush on Tom and made a great fuss of him on every visit. 

As they drank Prosecco, Luca asked Sandro how his first term had been. "Camford è magnifico! Molto mi piace! I am so glad that I chose to go there. I have a nice college room, the lectures and practicals are very enjoyable, e ho molti amici." (and I have a lot of friends). 

"Ragazzi o ragazze, e questa nazionalità?" (Boys or girls, and what nationality?). 

"No Italians! My friends are mainly first-year English boys, except for an oriental girl. There are only about fifteen girls in our engineering classes out of nearly a hundred first years. Also, I've got a slightly older friend, a first-year Ph.D. student, with whom I go to films and go swimming. I'd like to bring him home at Easter, if that's OK with you and Dad, Mamma." 

"But in the college, there must be quite a lot of girls?" said his mother. 

"Yes, but there are not many opportunities to meet them. Besides, love is a distraction from work, whereas moderate drinking is not. And most engineers drink a lot. Grazie a Zio Giona, birra inglesa mi piace." (Thanks to Uncle Jon, I love English beer)."  

His mother said, "Be careful, Sandro, don't drink too much. Apart from other effects, it makes you fat!" 

"Yes, we can echo that," said Luca. "You won't attract girls, or boys for that matter if you get a beer-belly!" Sandro blushed slightly at the mention of attractive boys, and hoped that no-one noticed. He was glad that Tom had not mentioned his phone call to anyone. He was not yet ready to come out.

"How did you do in your Christmas Progress Test, Sandro?" asked Luca. The Progress Test is the review that all Camford college tutors carry out on their students at the end of each term. 

"Dr H was quite complimentary. He said that my strengths in maths and physics will make engineering study easy for me, and that if I continue to work hard, I may get a college scholarship based on my performance in the summer exams."

Christmas is a low-key event in Italy, and after a family meal, the day was spent just like a Sunday. The next day, San Stefano, was warm and sunny and they all went for a walk round the town's mediaeval walls. The boys left in the evening, as Luca had to start work at 10 am the next day. 

Tom's lab was closed until 2 January, so he was left alone at home. He did some piano practice and then decided to ring his sister Liz and Luke's fathers with Christmas greetings. He used Skype and soon found himself in conversation with Jon. After what Sandro had said, Tom was curious about his new friend and asked Jon if he knew how many gays there were in the Camford Chemical Laboratory. Jon said he knew of six, two academics including himself, two Ph.D. students and two technicians. "That's four more than when I was there!" said Tom. 

"But there could be a lot more gays among the undergraduates," Jon said. "The chemistry undergraduates have recently formed a student society called the Gay-Lussac Society. As you know, Camford student societies often take the name of a famous person, but in the case of the Gay-Lussac Society, it's actually a code, not for the nineteenth century French chemist, but for 'Gay Chemists' Society'! Out of an honour school of three hundred, if they are a cross-section of society, there will be about thirty gay students and probably more than a hundred who are bi. As a matter of fact, they have invited me to talk to them next term on the topic of 'Gay scientists'. I think that I'll talk mainly about Alan Turing and his sufferings in the 1950s." 

"Sandro seems to have settled down nicely. I think he may surprise us in the next few months," said Tom. 

"Tom! Do you know something that I don't know? About Sandro, I mean?" 

"Not exactly. I think you have your suspicions, and so do I! But no doubt he will tell us in his own good time. Where exactly are you this Christmas?" 

"We're all at Rockwell's Barn. David's mother and father have joined us, and of course Cathy is here, so there are five of us in the house. It's a cold, damp Christmas this year. We've scarcely been out, because when we need exercise, we can always use the pool." 

"Please give our love to everyone. I'm cooking a pheasant for us tonight. It's easy to get that sort of thing here, if you go to the right shops. I've never cooked one before, so it's an interesting challenge."

"Give Luke our love when he gets home!" 

Early on New Year's Eve, the two men drove from Trabizona to Massimo and Dorotea's house. Again, Sandro and Bianca greeted them enthusiastically and the four of them went out for a walk while Dorotea was cooking the New Year's Eve dinner. They split into two groups, Bianca chattering happily to Tom, while Luke talked to Sandro. A lot of Sandro's conversation seemed to be taken up by his new friend Jack. When Luke heard that Jack was a chemist, he said innocently that chemistry seemed to attract gays: Tom and both Luke's fathers were gay chemists. Sandro realized the implication and blushed, but did not say anything more. He had been careful not to use Storing pour Homme while he was at home. He thought that he would be glad to be rid of all this deception, hiding in the closet, but he wanted to be sure that his relationship with Jack was strong enough before he came out. He knew now that all he himself wanted was for him to be Jack's exclusive property, but he could not be sure that Jack was not a typical philandering gay, who might abandon him for someone else, so he was reluctant to commit himself until he knew that Jack also wanted to commit. 

Late on New Year's Day, the boys drove home to Trabizona. Both were due back at work the next day.

 Chapter Eighteen: Leonora in distress

Towards the end of January, winter set in. A cold wind blew south from the Dolomite mountains, and Trabizona was covered in a sprinkling of snow about 3 cm deep. One evening, Tom got home about 8 pm, after an easy drive from the lab. He started to prepare a meal for the two of them to eat when Luke got home about 10-30. Round about 9-30, to Tom's surprise, the doorbell rang. He clicked the intercom button and said "Chi è?" 

"È Leonora," was the reply. Tom clicked the door release and opened it, to see Leonora, wrapped in a hooded fur jacket, climbing the stairs. He stepped on one side to let her enter the house. 

He took her damp coat and hung it in the warm kitchen to dry off. She seemed to be in a state of some distress. She explained that for the last month she had been pursued by a stalker. He lurked outside the lecture rooms, he followed her wherever she went in the vicinity of the university, and had started following her home. She was pretty sure that she had avoided him tonight when she sneaked off to catch the train to Trabizona, but she was frightened that when she went back home, he would be waiting for her. She didn't see how she could involve the police, as she had not been assaulted or even threatened. It was just his sinister presence that scared her. "You'd better stay here for a couple of days, and then Luke and I will accompany you back to Bologna, and try and deal with this guy. I'm not sure that we will be able to scare him off, but we will certainly have a try. You know that you are safe here. Would you like some coffee? You look cold. You can eat with us tonight if you can wait until 10-30 when Luke gets home from the theatre. I'll just go and make up a bed for you. Have you got any clean clothes and toilet things with you?" 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 03



"Oh, Tom, grazie! I've not got anything with me, but I've got enough money to buy things tomorrow." And to Tom's total amazement, she kissed him. Tom blushed before busying himself making coffee on the Italian coffee machine that Luke had been given by his parents when he started at Buckingham College some five years before. 

When he got home, Luke was surprised to find his partner and Leonora, sitting drinking coffee, hungrily waiting for him. Luke kissed each of them, Tom first, and before long they were sitting round the kitchen table eating Tom's ravioli dish and drinking a bottle of Nero d'Avola. Although Leonora unwound a little, and began to smile occasionally, she still looked depressed. When they had stacked the plates and cutlery in the dishwasher (one of the advantages of renting a furnished flat), Luke said, "Let's just stand for a couple of minutes and ask God to give us help and support to deal with Leonora's problem in the right way." They all stood for a while and then said the grace together in Italian. 

They showed Leonora her bed and the bathroom and let her retire. Then Luke said to Tom, "What we must do the day after tomorrow is to take cameras with us. If this guy knows he's being photographed, he might think twice about pestering her. You had better bring your movie camera, Tom. It's more difficult to fake a movie than a still picture, in case anyone doubts our credibility. Meanwhile, tomorrow Leonora can look round Trabizona, phone her friends to let them know she's safe, and buy any clothes or toiletries that she needs. On Thursday morning, we'll both go back with her to Bologna, so tell them at the lab that you'll be late into work. I'm not working on Thursday night, so I'll get the morning off work." 

On the Thursday, they all got up early and were in Bologna by 8-30 am. Having parked the car, the boys, cameras ready but not visible, accompanied Leonora to her first lecture. As far as they could, they scrutinized the crowd of students entering the lecture theatre. Then they carefully stood watching to see if anyone hung around outside. Two men sat down on benches outside the lecture theatre and opened notebooks as if they were reading. Unobtrusively, the boys hid behind a vending machine and succeeded, using a zoom lens, to secretly photograph the two characters. After 15 min, the realized that if they went upstairs by the rear entry to the lecture theatre, they had a good view of the suspicious characters. At 10-00 am, the students came crowding out of the lecture and the boys descended the staircase and stood watch. When Leonora emerged, she left the building and walked slowly across the square towards the university library. 

To the boys' satisfaction, one of the lurkers followed her. Tom got some good clips of the stalker from behind and quickened his pace so that he was near enough to get a side view shot of the guy's face, with Leonora in the background. When they reached the library, Leonora, as instructed, sat down on the steps and took out her cellphone. The boys stood a short distance away to see what would happen. 

The stalker crept up close to her, and she looked up. A look of horror crossed her face as the man got hold of her hand. Luke shot across the intervening distance and grabbed the man and pulled him away from Leonora. The guy lashed out, aiming for Luke's face. Luke ducked and the blow hit him on the shoulder very hard. As he staggered, the man aimed a kick at Luke's shin. Luke stumbled and fell, just as Tom arrived and hit the guy hard on the shoulder, knocking him down. "Stronzo di merda! Non toccare ragazza mia!" (Shithead! Don't touch my girlfriend) he said as he grabbed Leonora and ran with her into the library building. Luke got up and rushed out of sight to the corner of the building where he could observe the guy. However the dazed individual made no attempt to enter the library, suggesting that he was not a student. He staggered away and disappeared into the street. Luke entered the library. Tom and Leonora were waiting just inside the entry-check barrier. Luke beckoned to them to come out. Just within the building was a coffee bar. They entered and ordered three espressi. They sat at a table and Leonora insisted on examining their injuries, which were little more than severe bruising. 

"Leonora, did you know that man?" asked Luke. 

"Yes," she replied. "He comes from the village where I was born. He has several convictions for assault." 

"Should we report him to university security for violent behaviour?" 

"It might be a good idea, even though there's nothing much they can do. After all, he didn't actually attack me. If anything, you assaulted him. I think that what you've done will be enough to frighten him off." 

"You're right. We don't want to involve officialdom if you think he will not be back." They finished their coffee. Leonora embraced and kissed both of the boys more affectionately than she had ever done before, and they all had an early lunch together before the boys returned Trabizona. They told Leonora that she was welcome to come and see them at any time, whether she was in trouble or not, and to ring them at once if she had any more trouble from the stalker. Tom gave her his cellphone number.

"We'll put your toiletries in a cupboard in the bathroom, so that they will be available whenever you come!" said Luke. "Tom," he said, "you worked the same trick with that guy as you did when you rescued me in that gay pub in Camford four years ago! Now that guy thinks that Leonora has my muscle-boy as a lover, he'll leave her alone. It is her solitariness that makes her vulnerable." 

By 3 pm, both were back at their respective jobs. In the car on the way back, Tom said, "I hope we can see more of Leonora. I think she's sweet. I'll never forget that it was her prayers and your love that brought me to faith." Luke felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him at hearing this. He was always uneasy about how Tom seemed not merely to get on well with women, but actually to get fond of them. His irrational instincts made him feel that this was somehow a betrayal of their mutual love. His common sense told him that this was rubbish. Tom was totally loyal, and would never get into a relationship with a woman, or even another man. Tom's 'fag-hag' from their third-year student days, Margaret, had also stirred up jealousy in Luke until he found that she was a lesbian. 

Chapter Nineteen: The Candlemas term in Camford 

When Sandro got back to Camford in mid-January, he took a cab straight to college, as term would begin the next day. He unlocked the cupboard with his belongings and installed his clothes in the drawers. It was about 5 pm. He rang Jon to tell him that he was back and he would call in at Fountain Street within a few days to collect a few things that he needed, which Jon had had washed for him during the vacation. Then he took a shower and washed his hair with Storing pour Homme shampoo and called Jack's cellphone. 

When Jack heard that he was back, he felt his heart leap in delight, a sensation so novel that he could not recall ever having felt that way before. He rushed from his lab, leapt on his bicycle, rode directly to Boni's and knocked on Sandro's door. Sandro opened it. Jack stepped inside. It was the first time that he had seen Sandro's room. He didn't get much chance to examine it though, because he was immediately grabbed in a tight embrace by Sandro. "I've missed you!" they both said simultaneously, when they had a pause to breathe. Jack buried his head in Sandro's hair and said, "Storing pour Homme!" Sandro blushed. "You know what that means?" asked Jack.

"Yes," said Sandro, "Jack, I now know for sure that I'm gay, and I want to proclaim it to the world. I haven't yet come out to my parents or my two uncles, so don't say anything to Uncle Jon if you meet him at the lab. Do you think I need more experience of gay sex before I can call you my boyfriend?"

Jack replied, "Well, maybe. If your experience with me is the only time that you've had blow-jobs, how can you be sure that sex with other men will not give you more enjoyment than with me? Besides, you've not yet experienced giving me head. You might not like my dick in your mouth!" 

"Jack, I've been pining for that dick of yours for four weeks. I know that I am going to love eating your meat! But I agree that I need a LOT more experience! But I want it with you. What did your parents do when you told them that you were gay?" 

"They turned me out of the house, said that I was a dirty faggot and they never wanted to see me again. So believe me, they never will!" 

"What did you do at Christmas then?" 

"I stayed in a hostel for homeless men. I was helping with serving them meals and doing the laundry, of which there was a lot. It wasn't much fun, but it was the sort of socially useful job that someone has to do, and I did get bed and board, though I had to pay £10 a day for it. I was there from Christmas Eve for ten days. You needn't worry, though, I didn't have sex with any of the residents! At least I felt I was being useful, though if my parents had had their way, I would have been a rough sleeper myself." 

Sandro did not know what to say in response to this revelation, so he just went and put his arms round Jack. He wanted to console him. "Poor Jack, that's an awful thing to happen! I suppose that it might happen to me. My father might disown me. I'm sure my mother wouldn't, though, but she might be upset that both her sons have turned out to be gay. But at least I know that my two gay uncles would look after me." After a long kissing session he whispered "Let me suck you off, please, Jack!" His hands reached for Jack's fly and unzipped it. He slipped his hand inside and caressed the hard fat rod that he could feel under its thin cotton covering. He used his other hand to undo Jack's belt, and in no time Jack's trousers were round his ankles and Sandro could see the rapidly spreading, moist patch on Jack's Calvin Klein briefs. He pulled them down on top of the trousers and started to lick Jack's balls. 

Jack said to him, "In the blow-job game, you only use your lips and tongue. Your teeth should be kept well out of the way!" 

Sandro inhaled the fragrance of Storing pour Homme mixed with Jack's sweat, a totally intoxicating combination, and he started to run his lips along the lumpy veiny shaft of Jack's cock. It was a pretty large organ, a good 20 cm long, and pretty thick in its engorged state. Of course Sandro had seen it before, but never at such deliciously close quarters and never in its full male majesty. He nibbled Jack's rolled-back foreskin and licked the precome that was oozing from the slit in the head. He then took the first few centimetres of the head into his mouth. It felt rather like sucking a chestnut in its shell on the end of a very thick stick. 

Removing his mouth, he ran his lips along Jack's treasure trail before plunging it into Jack's blond pubic hair and nuzzling. Having slowly gone round the base of Jack's dick, he resumed his attentions to the shaft, before engulfing the whole head in his mouth and starting to chew it. During all this time Jack was smiling with delight and running his hands over Sandro's shoulders and neck. As Sandro opened his mouth wider, Jack pushed his dick gently but firmly further into it. He then began fucking movements. He did not go deeply, just 10 cm in and then out again. Sandro found this fat, slippery cylinder in his mouth a delightful sensation. Sandro realized that for the first time in his life he was in love. 

Jack put his right hand behind Sandro's head and held it as Sandro continued to enjoy his mouthful of meat. They lost all count of time, but a few more minutes of penile stimulation finally sent Jack over the edge, and he shouted "Sandro!" as he came violently and shot a substantial load of jism into Sandro's receptive mouth. It was rather a large dose: Jack had not jacked off for several days. He had been saving it for the boy that he was beginning to think of as his boyfriend. Sandro knew that he had to swallow his mouthful of hot spunk, but found it rather difficult to cope with the large volume. However he liked the taste, and swallowed the slimy mass very slowly, savouring it as he did so. Some of the spunk overflowed his mouth, and as it ran down his chin, he tried to lick it up, before Jack offered him a tissue. He left some on his lips so he could transfer it back to its owner when they kissed. The kiss session was prolonged and vigorous and they continued in quiet lovemaking for half-an-hour, until Jack said that he had work to do and it was in any case time for Sandro's dinner. 

When he left, Sandro felt bereft. He didn't want Jack to leave, but he went into dinner, ordered beer with his meal and sat with his fellow freshman engineers. By the time they had drunk coffee in the room of one of his friends, the feeling had worn off, his cool reason had returned, and he E-mailed his parents about his safe arrival in Camford, and went to bed. He had a 9 am lecture the next day.

TO BE CONTINUED



An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 04



[Thank you to all those readers who have not given up on this slow-moving story. However, there is still quite a lot of sex.] 

Chapter Twenty: The gay Professor at home

Spurred on by David's idea, early in January Tom got his microbial bioassay method working. He had approached colleagues in the microbiology lab, and they had told him that a mutant of the type that he needed already existed for several species of bacteria. They were also prepared to let him use their microtitre plate reader. They showed him how to make up, sterilize and inoculate bacterial liquid culture media. Tom chose the species that was easiest to grow to develop his method, and soon he had optimized the growth conditions so that the growing mutant produced massive amounts of his assay material. Then he found to his delight that concentrations of his synthetic material as low as 1 microgram per ml were sufficient to produce an easily measurable inhibition of the production of the assay product. Within a couple of weeks, he had an elegant, quick, simple and sensitive method to measure his synthetic material, even in a crude unpurified sample. He took his data to Sescantante, who was highly impressed. "You've been here now just a year, Tom" he said. "It's time that you gave us a seminar. Is your Italian up to speaking for half an hour about your new method?" 

"I might need to talk to some of the microbiologists to get my terminology right," replied Tom, "but I think I could give the talk in about two weeks' time. That would give Ben and me chance to compare the animal and microbiological assays and do some statistics on the results."

"Right, and in the evening of the day you give your talk, I want you and your boyfriend to come to dinner with me. It will give me the opportunity to introduce my new boyfriend, or rather, man-friend to you." 

"It would need to be a Wednesday if you want my partner Luca to be there, as it's the only evening that he doesn't work." 

"OK, that's fixed then!" 

Tom's seminar was a great success. Effectively, he had only been doing research for six months. The first six months of his stay had really been about finding his way in the lab, getting his spoken Italian up and running and generally adjusting to a life in a strange land. Ben was particularly impressed by his presentation. Because of his quiet introversion, Tom's profile in the lab had always been low, and this was the first time that some of his colleagues had really had an opportunity to find out what he was like. Being a reserved and modest kind of person, Tom was not unduly elated by his success, but it did help to strengthen his self-confidence. 

The evening at Prof Sescantante's villa was very interesting. They had been told to dress formally and to bring overnight bags to avoid an expensive cab journey home, because there would be no question of driving after a boozy evening. That enabled them to travel on the bus. Luke felt mildly uneasy about an invitation that included a bed for the night, but said nothing at the time to Tom, except to suggest that since they would be getting a lot to drink, it might be better not to do any shagging when they got to bed that night. 

Clad in designer suits, they sat down to dinner in a very opulent dining room. There were just the four of them present. The Professor was the most informally dressed. His companion was wearing a very stylish suit that had obviously cost an arm and a leg. He was introduced as Sebastiano, the new boyfriend. Sebastiano was about 35, making him only five years younger than Sescantante, and was handsome and fit-looking. By profession he was a lawyer, who had known the Professor for years. Curiously, it was only recently that the two men had discovered that they were both gay. It did not seem as if they were very much in love, but they seemed to be on very comfortable and intimate terms. Sebastiano, or Bastian as he liked to be called, was a friendly and amusing man. 

Sescantante asked if they should converse in English for Tom's benefit. He did not seem to think that Luke would have any language problems. Tom said that there was no need to talk in English as far as he was concerned, so they continued to speak Italian. Bastian spoke quite entertainingly about the gay world of Trabizona, which was a closed book to both the boys and the Professor, for different but obvious reasons. He did suggest that the four of them might go out one evening for a meal at a gay restaurant, of which apparently there were two in Trabizona. The boys agreed, slightly warily, to this proposal.

The meal was long, elaborate and very enjoyable. Background music was operatic, played very quietly. Tom at one stage noted a recording by his father, David. There was a lot of wine: a different one for each course, with Prosecco before the meal and Marsala with the coffee. Sescantante was an expert on Italian wines and told them a lot about each one. Luke was fascinated to learn that Marsala had been invented in Sicily by an Englishman in the nineteenth century. 

The meal had been cooked and was served by a charming middle-aged lady whom Sescantante introduced as his housekeeper, and remarked with a grin that she was one of the few housekeepers to Italian bachelors who was not sleeping with her boss! Bastian said, "I should hope not! I would leave you if I thought you were betraying me with a woman!" Everyone giggled uproariously at this.

The conversation got on to music, and when the two older men found that they could both sing and play the piano, the two boys were asked to perform. Sescantante supplied music, and Luke selected the Mozart aria 'Non piu andrai farfallone amoroso' from 'Le Nozze di Figaro' and they performed it with inebriated enthusiasm. They got loud applause from their audience of two. Looking through the Professor's sheet music collection, they found vocal/piano music for a Mozart concert aria, 'Per questa bella mano.' Although neither of them knew it, the tune looked very attractive, so they sightread it once each and then, by now even further inebriated, Luke sang it to Tom's accompaniment. He had to stand behind Tom, so that they could both read from the same page of music, and he rested his hand on Tom's right shoulder. Conscious of the words, 'By this fair hand, by these sweet looks, I swear, my love that I will never love anyone but you,' Tom turned his head and kissed Luke's hand, and in so doing, missed a few notes before neatly catching up with Luke's singing. By the end of the song, they were both in fits of giggles. The two older men joined in the laughter before applauding. 

By now it was very late, and as everyone had to work the next day, they all went to bed. Sescantanto and Bastian continued to giggle as they went into their bedroom. "The English are just as demonstrative and hot-blooded as Italians when they get a few drinks inside them to remove their inhibitions!" said the Professor. Tom and Luke, after washing and cleaning their teeth, said their prayers and collapsed into bed. They slept extremely soundly and were awakened by Tom's alarm clock in time for breakfast, whereafter the Professor offered them a lift into town and the lab in his car. In spite of Luke's misgivings, they had had a wonderful time. Tom was starting to like his boss. 

Chapter Twenty-one: Luke's twenty-fourth birthday

Tom was so thrilled by the glorious melody of 'Per questa bella mano' that he downloaded the music from the internet and started to learn it. He carefully copied down the words and one early evening when Luke was at work, he went to an upmarket jeweller's in the centre of Trabizona and ordered an engraved eighteen-carat gold bracelet for Luke's birthday present in February. The inscription that he ordered, to be engraved on the inside of the bracelet read: 'Caro Luca mio: Non amero che te. 6.2.20--' (My darling Luke: I will love no-one but you. 6 February 20--). When Luke's birthday arrived, it was a day when there was no performance, so he was home at 6 pm, and Tom came home early. Tom had booked a table at Agostino's, a chic restaurant in the city centre. 

They put on their Armani suits and strolled gently into the city, arriving in time for their booking at 7 pm. "I'm fed up with eating late!" said Luke, "It leaves nothing left of the evening." They began with their usual bottle of Prosecco, holding hands under the table as they drank. They went steadily through the menu, in a way that they found impossible when eating after 10-30, with antipasta, soup, Luke's favourite saltimbocca with a bottle of Barolo, and finished with tiramisu. They then moved to the bar for coffee and Marsala. Just before the dessert, Tom got out the gift-wrapped box and passed it over to Luke, who opened it and squealed with delight when he saw the contents. When he read the inscription, tears began to run down his cheeks. Ignoring the other customers, he stood up quietly, walked round the table and threw his arms round the still sitting Tom and kissed him passionately, before resuming his seat. "Thank you, my darling boy," he said, "I shall cherish this till the day I die, and wear it every day!" The bracelet was expandable, quite narrow, rather less than 20 mm wide and looked beautiful against Luke's brown skin. 

Tom gazed at him in adoration. "It's so wonderful to be able to buy nice things for you without having to worry about the money," he said. "I'm glad that you like jewellery, because it enhances your beauty. Come on, let's go home, and I'll give you another birthday present that I am currently nourishing between my legs, and which is making me damp!" It was a testimony to the progress that Tom had made in speaking, that he managed to say this in Italian! He then went on to quote a poem that he had found in one of Luke's books, the first of the sixteenth century poet Pietro Aretino's 'Sonnetti lussuriosi': 

'Fottiamci, anima mia, fottiamci presto Perché tutti per fotter nati siamo; E se tu il cazzo adori, io la potta amo, e saria il mondo un cazzo senza questo.'

(Let's fuck, my love, let's fuck at once for we are all born to fuck; and if you adore the prick and I the cunt, without this the world will be a total prick.) 

"I'd never have understood those lines if you, my sweet boy, had never taught me all those dirty Italian words!" 

"Those sonnets were never for hundreds of years translated into English," said Luke, "and when they were, they used words like 'sword' and 'sheath' rather than prick and cunt! Aretino should appeal to us a lot, because he liked shagging boys as well as girls."

They paid their bill and left, to the accompaniment of knowing grins from the waiters. Although they were not regular customers at Agostino's, the waiters had rapidly got them weighed up as gay. When they got home, they got ready for bed in record time. They never wore pyjamas or T-shirts, or anything else, in bed. Tom pulled the duvet back and pushed his partner on to his back on the bed. Starting at Luke's lips, he kissed him all the way down his neck, where he left a love-bite, down his shoulders to his nipples, where his lips lingered a long time nibbling the nipple and pulling with his teeth on the sparse hair surrounding each one. He continued his downward voyage calling at various ports on the way. At Luke's navel he spent some time kissing, licking and nibbling, before following the treasure trail down to the black forest surrounding Luke's stiff and slimy cock. Ignoring the temptation to suck it, he spread Luke's legs, lifted them on to his own shoulders and pushed his face into the perineal gap and began to lick Luke's balls, and take them one at a time into his mouth. Luke moaned with pleasure and almost fainted with desire at his mate's loving attentions. As always, he never understood how Tom always knew what buttons to press to send him wild with desire. 

Tom reached for the lube, and applied it in the usual way, both inside and outside Luke's sweet starfish. He rolled a condom on to his prick, and in no time at all had slipped it into the treasure house. In spite of the alcohol inside him, he was as clear-headed as usual and he proceeded to give Luke the fucking of his life. Luke nearly went crazy with delight, and after Tom's dick had hit his prostate a couple of times, he came violently, shooting his load all over both their bellies. Tom continued his work for several minutes, before he in turn came into the prophylactic deep inside his boyfriend, experiencing as he did so that glorious sensation of the outpouring of God's love, which always gave him a sacramental feeling. He gently slipped out of Luke's love-hole and started to lick Luke's seed off his belly, before lowering himself on top of his lover, with some of his weight still on his knees. He had no desire to squash Luke with his weight! After a few minutes he rolled over and lay on his back beside Luke, the condom still hanging loosely from his cock. Luke rolled on to his side, reached over and gently pulled off the condom from Tom's tool and knotted it, before dropping it on the floor and burying his face in the hair on Tom's chest. They then said a prayer of thanks together before falling asleep with a crisp layer of dried man-juice on both their bellies.

Chapter Twenty-two: Unhappy Leonora 

One night in March, Tom's cellphone rang. It was Leonora. "Tom, my exams are only a few weeks away, and I'm desperately lonely. Please can I come and see you both this weekend?" 

"Of course you can. Will you want to stay?" 

"Yes, Friday and Saturday nights, please." 

"No problem! I'll make your bed up." Leonora arrived about 8 pm on the Friday evening. Luke of course was at work. No sooner had Tom opened the door to Leonora than she put her arms round him tightly and kissed him very, very affectionately. She came in, deposited her bag and sat down to a cup of coffee that Tom had made for her and a plate of cakes. She smiled at him slightly tearfully. He said to her, "Can you wait to eat late? About 11 pm? On Fridays, I meet Luke after work, and we have very late dinner in the restaurant next to the Teatro Musicale. We're regular customers and we don't have to wait long for our meal. Is that OK?" 

"Yes," she said, "I want to be alone with you for a bit. I want you to make love to me!" Tom could not believe what he had just heard. 

"You are sweet, and I am quite happy to kiss and cuddle, but I couldn't go further than that," he replied. "Luke and I have an understanding about making love to other people, and he wouldn't mind me shagging you just once, as long as I told him about it. But the problem is that as far as women are concerned, I'm a virgin. And I guess that you are a virgin too. I could do it with an experienced woman, who knows what to do and the right sort of talk to turn me on, but I'm pretty sure that if I tried to shag you, I would experience what they nowadays call 'erectile dysfunction.' What we used to call impotence, in other words. You wouldn't want to get all excited about a man making love to you and then being let down by him failing to get it up, if you don't mind my rather crude language, would you? And in any case, why this rush to lose your virginity? Have you changed your mind about the convent?" 

"Oh, Tom, I don't know what's the matter with me. I don't know what I want! I haven't lost my faith, but I think I've lost my vocation." Tom took her into his arms, feeling like the weaver in 'The foggy, foggy, dew.' ('She sobbed, she sighed, she damn' near died, She said, What shall I do-oo?'). He wrapped his right arm round her shoulders and with his left hand caressed her right breast, while he glued his lips to hers, opened her mouth with his tongue and poked it into her mouth. After an interval of not realizing what was happening, she brought her own tongue into contact with his.

Leonora was in a state of total emotional turmoil. Much of this was caused by loneliness. She did not have a lot of friends, and missed her parents and family even after four years of living away from home. The imminence of her final exams and the prospect of a radical change in her life, totally unsettled her. She had no friends with whom she could discuss her feelings, and her spiritual director, an old priest, was totally useless in advising a young girl. Or not so young, because she was now 24, the same age as Luke. The ease with which Tom and Luke had frightened off her stalker gave her an exaggerated idea of their heroism, and her gratitude focused on Tom, because she knew from kissing Luke that although he was sweet, he was totally cold as far as women were concerned. She liked holding his hand, but only because it felt warm and comfortable. Tom, with his muscular build and his tenderness towards women, his thoughtfulness and concern, had become in her imagination an object of love. When she heard his protest that he could never have sex with her, she was rather relieved. She didn't (quite understandably) see how genital intimacy with a man would actually solve the problem. What she needed was companionship and social intimacy with friends. She did not realise that by telling Tom that she wanted him to make love to her that she was actually sending the wrong message. Men all interpret lovemaking as the preliminary to sex, whereas what Leonora wanted was warmth and companionship.

Tom started to realize why Luke was so firm about not wanting anything to do with women. Although he, Tom, liked women, their bodies and physiology were a closed book to him. He had never actually seen a woman naked in the flesh, only on porn web sites. He knew that they had a messy event involving blood leaking from their bodies every month, and that this was said to affect their behaviour. But faced with a real live woman who seemed to want him, he was in a total dilemma. If he said to Leonora that he would never make love to anyone except his darling Luke, this would leave her unconsoled and disappointed. But if he tried to fuck her and failed, that would be leave her in an even worse state. And, being female, her reluctance to tell him in plain words what she wanted made the whole business an even greater dilemma. Above all, with her exams being close, he had to make sure that he comforted her rather than upset her.

He thought about his first few times with Luke. This dilemma had never happened. Both of them were full of burning passion and desire, and what followed required no premeditation. How could he make Leonora happy without disappointing her? 

She smelt only of scented soap, she obviously did not use perfume. She sniffed his Storing pour Homme aftershave, and was puzzled by the strange scent. She plucked up courage to speak. "What's that fragrance that I can smell? I remember that Luke used to use it as well." 

"It's a Belgian male perfume called Storing pour Homme. Not many men use it nowadays, but if you look it up in Wikipedia, you'll find that it has a reputation dating from the 1970s of being widely used by gay men. I always think about lovemaking as a preliminary to sex. But you just want to be warm and close and to feel loved, don't you? 

"I'll tell you what: tell your landlady that you are going off for two weeks somewhere quiet to revise for your exams, and come and move in with us. Luke won't mind. You were a great comfort to him when we were apart for a year. Your trips to the opera with him were the highlight of his stay in Bologna. If you need to go to Bologna for a lecture or to use the library, it's only half-an-hour on the train. I am out from 9 in the morning to around 7 in the evening, Luke is out from 10 till 6 on days when there's no opera performance, and from 10 in the morning till 10-30 at night on the days that there is a performance, except on Saturdays, when he starts at 5 pm, unless there's an extra rehearsal. So you'll have plenty of time to yourself to get on with your exam revision, and every morning and evening you'll have company. You can use our laptop computer. At the weekend, we'll be able to go out together, and maybe on a Sunday we will go and see Luke's mother and half-sister and her father near Verona. If you don't want to go to Bologna, you could get a ticket to use Trabizona university library." 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 04



"Oh, Tom, that would be so nice. I'm fed up of being alone in the evenings and the weekends." 

"I should warn you that three or four nights per week, you'll have to eat my cooking, often at 11 pm! Maybe that will deter you! But most other nights we go out to a trattoria or ristorante. And I should warn you that we drink a lot!" Tom put both his arms round Leonora and kissed her. "Cheer up!" he said. "And one more thing: think seriously about abandoning your vocation to a religious life. Although the inmates of a convent are never alone and are well looked after, I think that you would be happier married to a nice man and have nice children. You can serve God just as well as loving wife and mother than as a nun shut up in a convent. I think you would make a good mother. If Luke and I could find you a nice man, we would do it, but it might be better if you yourself looked around a bit more. Luke told me that you have had boyfriends in the past, and you still have a good fifteen years to find a man who loves you and have babies with him. Also, and this may shock you a bit, a lot of gay men want babies! In a few years time, when we are both in steady jobs, Luke and I want to start a family, and rather than adopt, we will be looking for a sweet girl to be a surrogate mother for us! Not that I'm asking you to fulfil that role! You need to find the right man now."

Leonora by now was visibly happier. She kissed Tom affectionately and began to eat the rather nice lemon cakes that Tom had given her with the coffee. At 10-30 they took the tram to the Teatro Musicale and entered the restaurant next door. Luke was waiting for them with a bottle of Soave, of which he had poured himself his first glass. He was surprised to see Leonora, and kissed her warmly, but only after kissing his boyfriend. He felt that pang of jealousy again, although he knew that it was stupid. He poured them each a glass of wine and they ordered their food. Tom explained Leonora's sudden arrival and Luke said, "Oh, you poor girl. Stay as long as you like, or as long as you can put up with Tom's cooking!" Secretly, he was not keen on having a woman in the house for any length of time, but he knew that he was being irrational.

"He may say that, Leonora, but ask him when was the last time that HE cooked a meal!" said Tom. The three of them spent a pleasant evening and went home on a late tram. "We usually go swimming on Saturday mornings before breakfast. Do you swim?" 

"Yes, but I haven't got a swimsuit with me." 

"In that case we'll skip it for this week, but make sure that you have it with you next Saturday. Instead, we'll go out to breakfast. We know a place nearby where you get a good breakfast. Many Italians seem to breakfast on a cup of coffee." 

It was about one o'clock before they got to bed. Leonora slept much better than she had expected. She had feared that there might be a lot of noise in the boys' bedroom, but the boys were too tired to do anything but fall asleep, and in any case, as they had found when buying Tom's piano, the walls of the flat were pretty soundproof! 

Nine o'clock the next morning saw them eating breakfast in a small trattoria round the corner from the apartment. They agreed to take Leonora for a walk in the park, followed by a trip to the cinema, finishing in time for Luke to get a quick sandwich before going to work at 5 pm. Tom started to prepare the meal for much later in the evening and said to Leonora that she could either do some academic work or watch television. After the materials for supper were ready Tom asked her what she would like to drink. He poured her a Campari-orange, and sat beside her with his arm round her, while they watched television. At 10 pm, Tom started cooking the pasta, and at 10-45, Luke came home. After a quick glass of Prosecco, Luke said grace, and both boys made the sign of the cross before sitting down. Leonora realized that the boys' religious faith meant that she was quite safe living with these two men. It was not unreasonable that she should fear male approaches: after all more men are bi than exclusively gay. After a two-course meal with a bottle of Chianti, they had a quick cup of coffee before they all went to bed at midnight. Leonora was impressed by Tom's cookery skills.

Chapter Twenty-three: Easter in Nice

Leonora's lectures had finished and there was another month until her exams. The following week, they all went to Leonora's flat in Bologna in Tom's car and collected most of the things that Leonora would need during the next five weeks, and took them back to their apartment. It was agreed that Leonora would live with them rent-free, with a modest contribution towards her food, as she did not want to give up her flat, and certainly did not want to tell her parents that she was moving in with two men! 

One Sunday they all went to see the Mascagnolis. Normally, Tom and Luke went via Bologna, and they attended the English Church, where they sang in the choir. There was a mass at exactly the same time in the Cathedral, so Leonora attended that and they arranged to meet in a café afterwards for coffee, before continuing to the Mascagnolis', where they arrived slightly later than usual. Luke had warned his mother in advance that they were bringing a female guest, but it was nonetheless a surprise to Luke's other family when they turned up with a girl. In particular, it was clear that Bianca was definitely not a happy bunny. 

When she was alone with Tom she said to him, "Why did you bring that girl here? Luca and you are mine. I don't want to share you with her!" 

Tom replied, "Cara piccola Bianca mia, she has not moved in with us permanently. She has some important exams coming up in a few weeks. She needs quiet for her work and we are both out all day. But she is lonely and needs companionship in the evenings and weekends. And when she gets her degree, she's going into a convent! So you will not see much of her. In any case, she will be going home to her parents for two weeks over Easter, when Luca and I will be visiting his other grandmother in France. Remember, Bianca, you are not a little girl any more. You will be fifteen soon, and you need to start behaving like a young lady." He then put his arms round her and kissed her gently, and she smiled happily. 

Luke had talked to his boss Cornelio about a holiday break over Easter, and Cornelio had agreed to give him ten days off over the holiday period. It would be Mrs Singleton's eightieth birthday later that year, but it fell during the busiest period of the opera season, and Luke knew there was no chance of getting time off then. Both boys were looking forward to seeing Jon after more than a year. Luke had had to work over the previous Easter, and Tom had been reluctant to go to Nice and leave Luke on his own. They knew that Bianca would be welcoming her brother at home for Easter. 

They saw Leonora on to the train to her parents' before getting ready to leave for France. On the Wednesday before Easter, they got off the train at Nice Ville station, and took a cab to their hotel. This year, they were the first to arrive, and having unpacked, they telephoned Mrs Singleton. "How nice to hear from you both!" she said. "I've made advance arrangements for your nude swim. Come over here and bring some decent clothes, because after I've had a good stare at you both in the pool, we're going out somewhere fancy for a meal. So no tatty jeans and T-shirts!" She had booked a table at a Michelin two-star restaurant, and they had a very enjoyable evening, and the old lady seemed more restrained in her embarrassing remarks. The boys told her that Luke was terribly sorry, but was unable to come to her eightieth birthday celebration, but that they wanted to take her out for a meal the following week before they left.

The next day, Jon, David and Cathy arrived. Cathy was about to sit her final exams at Camford, and was hoping for a job in the IT industry. The four men spent the afternoon in the hotel pool, and while they were enjoying a quiet drink at the poolside after a half-hour of energetic swimming, Tom took Jon to one side and said to him, "What is the situation with Sandro?" 

"He has told me in confidence about his sexuality, but I can't tell you what he told me." 

"He's gay, isn't he?" 

"How do you know?" asked Jon. 

"He telephoned me in November to ask my advice, because I'm not a blood relative. I'm not sure that I said the right thing. He said that he was unsure of his sexuality, but there was a man with whom he was going swimming, who had kissed him. I told him that if he fancied the man in question, he should try a blow-job!" 

"I guessed when he asked me to buy him some Storing pour Homme toiletries for Christmas!" said Jon. "Since then, I've talked to him, and he doesn't want to come out in Camford until he has talked to his parents. He wanted to take his boyfriend, Jack, with him to Italy at Easter to meet his parents. I advised him that that was not a good idea, that he needed to talk to his parents first and not bring as a guest the guy who was fucking him until he knew his parents' reaction. He then told me that Jack was not actually fucking him at present, that they had so far confined themselves to blow-jobs, but it's obvious to me that he is deeply in love with Jack Meredith." 

"What's this guy like?" asked Tom, "I'm interested because Sandro is Luca's brother." 

"He's ravishingly beautiful! He would give even a straight man a hard-on! He's tall, muscular, slim and fit with beautiful naturally blond curly hair. His Ph.D. supervisor tells me that he is a brilliant chemist, and even after only six months is making rapid progress in the lab. When he was an undergraduate, he was a speed swimmer for Imperial College, and got a graduation medal for the best student in chemistry. If Sandro really is gay, he has an excellent taste in men!" 

"I'll get Luca to ring him tomorrow, and find out what has happened in Italy. What did you think about this guy? Did you feel that he was just playing around with your nephew, or that he wanted a relationship?" 

"I couldn't judge when I talked to him, because at that stage, Sandro had not told me that they had had sex, albeit as it turns out, only one or more blow-jobs. My main concerns are twofold, first that I don't want Sandro to get hurt, the second that I don't want Massimo and Dorothea to blame me for Sandro's gayness and accuse me of leading him astray!" 

"If anyone's to blame for leading him astray, it has to be me, because I advised him to try a blow-job. But most teenage boys want to be blown by a boy or a girl at some stage in their adolescence, and he is after all, nearly twenty, and I would not call Massimo and Dorotea over-protective parents. If Sandro's parents blame you, I am willing to take the blame for encouraging Sandro to try having it off with his new friend. Do you think we ought to discuss it with David and Luke?" 

"Yes, but not when Cathy is around." It wasn't difficult to lose Cathy. Jon proposed that they all went for a beer, and she said that she had other things to do. The hotel had, to their surprise, a stock of Belgian beer, so they did not have to drink rubbish beer. They found a quiet corner of the bar and held a male family conclave, while drinking Duvel, a high alcohol, but delicious, golden ale. Jon explained to Luke and David how he and Tom had evidence that Sandro was gay, to the extent of him asking for, and getting, Storing pour Homme as a Christmas present! By now it was Holy Saturday, so Luke offered to ring Sandro there and then and ask his brother if he had yet talked to his parents. He dialled Sandro's mobile number, and after a short delay, it was answered. "Ciao, Sandro, è fratello tuo Luca. Are you alone?" 

"Si," replied Sandro.

"Have you anything to tell me about yourself?" 

"Luca, I've just told my parents that I'm gay." 

"What did they say?" 

"Oh, Luca, it was awful. Mamma burst into tears and Pappa looked like thunder. I don't know what I'm going to do. What if they tell me that they don't want to see me again? That's what happened when my boyfriend told his parents!"

"Did you tell little Bianca?" 

"Yes, she's nearly fifteen after all. She was sweet about it. She said that it wouldn't make any difference as far as she was concerned. She said she loved you and Tom, and wasn't going to stop loving me if I was going to be like them." 

"Sandro, I've got my two fathers and Tom here. We had already guessed that you were gay, after you asked for the Storing pour Homme! You are always assured of a home, Sandro. Dad and Pop will let you live with them in Camford or Ixton, and in Italy, you can live with Tom and me. But it won't come to that. When your parents get over the shock, they will still love you. Be nice to them, don't sulk, and do jobs around the house when you are asked. And ring your Uncle David or Jon or Tom or me, whenever you need to talk. NEVER feel that you are alone and have no-one to turn to for help." 

"Can I talk to Uncle Jon, please?" 

"Of course, I'll pass the phone over to him." 

"Ciao, Sandro, è Giona. Are you OK?" 

"Si, bene. My parents are upset, but I can't help it. I'm in love with Jack, and I want everyone to know it!" 

"Sandro, that is not the right way to do it. You don't know whether he is in love with you. Unless your attraction is mutual (you know what mutual means?) you can't go telling the world about your love. Of course, you had to tell your parents some time that you're gay, but if this guy lets you down, you will have upset the two people who are best qualified to help you. Being gay is still a hard choice of lifestyle, and you must not make things worse for your parents or yourself by rushing into proclaiming your gayness. If Jack does not feel the same way as you do, you are going to be very upset. There are a lot of men who go around attracting young boys, and then dropping them after they have deflowered them. To Jack, you may be just another boy conquest. Another arsehole to add to his collection! 

"Of course, that's the worst-case scenario. I know Jack, and he is an incredibly attractive man. I can understand you falling for him. From what I have heard, he is a model Ph.D. student, so he is not a rotten person, but he might not understand the dangers of the emotional damage he can do to boys like you. Go and talk to your mother alone, and be nice to her. She has had a shock, but she loves you very much, and she's not going to reject you now. Then go and talk to your father. He is an incredibly noble and forgiving man, he has been a loving father to you all your life, and when he's got over the shock he will forgive you. And always remember that you have four men here who all love you and are praying for you and your parents." 

TO BE CONTINUED



An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 05



Chapter Twenty-four: Luke defends Sandro

Luke said to Tom, "As soon as we get home, and before I go back to work, I must go and see Sandro and Mamma. I must get them reconciled. Sandro has big exams coming up in nine or ten weeks, and we must make sure that he is emotionally OK. I need to spell that out to Mamma, in case Sandro has not made it clear. I don't know what I can do about Massimo. I don't want you to come with me, I need to do this myself. I know you feel guilty about egging on Sandro to get involved in sex, but I would have told him exactly the same as you did."

When they got back to Trabizona, Luke immediately took the train to Dorothea and Massimo's. His mother was surprised to see him, and so was Sandro. Luke asked his mother to come for a walk in the nearby park and he spoke to her in English, "Mamma, I gather that my brother has upset you by telling you that he is gay. Please tell me that you still love him and that you will be brave and support him. I know that he is in love with a man and that has upset you, but he has big exams coming up in a few weeks. He is a good student, he stands a chance of a scholarship and nothing must come between him and his work. If he felt that you no longer loved him, it could have disastrous effects on his exam performance. 

"You have never condemned or reproached me for being gay, and I can assure you that my parents were just as shocked as you were when at the age of just eighteen, a year younger than Sandro, I told them that I was gay and was having it off with a boy at school. As yet, we don't know much about the man that he has fallen for, but Pop says that the guy has a good reputation, and Sandro is a very sensible boy. He loves his academic work, and has said that this guy has promised not to hinder his studies. I can tell you that Tom and I were both very supportive of each other during our first exams and I am certain that regularly having sex together actually improved our exam performance! And please, please don't think that either of us or his uncles have led him astray. 

"So please, Mamma, be nice to Sandro. You and I both share his genes. He needs your love and support, and may need it even more in the future if things go wrong for him." After this long speech, Luke, ignoring the few passers by in the park, put his arms round his mother, hugged her tightly and kissed her emotionally. It was the first time that he had ever shown her the kind of deep and indescribable love that sons can feel for their mothers. She could feel the tears on his face. Any resentment she might have had against her two sons being gay melted away there and then. 

She put her hands on either side of Luke's face and kissed him. "Luca," she said "It did come as a big shock to me, because we had never expected that Sandro would turn out like you, in spite of the similarity of features! But heredity is inescapable, and I certainly don't want to lose your brother. I've already told him that I still love him, and I'll tell him how you have pleaded on his behalf! What's more, you don't have to worry about Massimo. Massimo loves Sandro just as much as if he were his own son, and after the momentary shock of Sandro coming out to us, he told him the very next day that he still loved him and they are now good mates again." 

When they got back to the house, Sandro was there talking happily to Massimo. Luke explained that he had come to defend his brother, only to find that he had been worrying unnecessarily. He shook hands with Massimo, put his arms round Sandro and whispered, "Best of luck with your new man!" kissed him and said goodbye. Massimo was touched by Luca's loyalty to his brother and his concern for him.

In spite of his needless panic, it was a relieved Luke who returned to Trebizona, rejoicing inwardly even though he had to stand on the crowded train back home. He found that Tom had already rung Leonora to tell her that they were back. She arrived the next day from home. She was only going to Bologna one day a week, and the rest of the time was revising for her exams. The boys told her that the following Wednesday they were having a friend round to eat. This was Ben Curtiss. 

Chapter Twenty-five: A big change for Leonora

Ben arrived about 7 pm. Tom was cooking, so Luke acted as host, and poured Prosecco for the guests. He had expected that Leonora would clam up and not talk. He had not expected that Ben would be very chatty either, but Ben needed someone to talk to, as he had just broken up with Giovanna. He had finally realized that she was never going to commit herself to a long-term relationship with him. Tom thought that the company of someone entirely different, and younger, like Leonora, might cheer him up. Luke was sceptical. He said that women were not worth the trouble. But to his surprise, Tom was right. 

Ben and Leonora both seemed to enjoy each other's company, and the evening was a great success, ending with a rather fuddled Luke and Tom performing Per questa bella mano. It was a good job that the apartment had such thick walls, as the neighbours, even Italian neighbours, might have objected to arias at midnight. Tom noticed Ben writing his phone number on a piece of paper and giving it to Leonora, who gave him a paper in exchange. 

Within a couple of weeks, Ben and Leonora were dating regularly. Leonora was a new person. She still worked hard with her revision books, but was cheerful, even chatty, at mealtimes. She started going out in the evenings, and Tom noticed that Ben spent far fewer evenings in the lab than previously. "I wonder if Ben likes opera," Luke wondered. When her exams were over, Leonora moved back to Bologna, but Ben was still absent in the evenings and his car was clocking up a large kilometerage. Sometimes he arrived late at the lab in the morning, having, Tom reckoned, spent the night in Bologna and driven back in the morning. 

By mid-July, Tom ventured to ask Ben if he and Leonora were dating regularly. Ben said that not merely were they dating, but that he was going to ask her to marry him! Tom said that it had not taken Ben long to fall in love, and was he sure that it was not a rebound effect after Giovanna. Ben replied that he had fancied Leonora from the first time that he met her. Tom secretly hoped that this was true. It would be an emotional disaster for Leonora if Ben let her down. 

He said to Ben, "Leonora has led a very sheltered life, and is very religious. Don't upset her by getting too passionate too soon. She has to totally reorganize her life if she has decided not to spend it in a convent. Be careful and don't rush her. I think that you would be very good for one another, but you BOTH have to certain that you have met the right person. Why don't both of you come and eat with us? I like cooking for Leonora! No-one will talk about your relationship, because I won't tell Luke."

So the following Tuesday (it was a week in which there was no opera performance on the Tuesday, as the season was nearing its end) Ben and Leonora arrived together. Tom felt that he was too involved with both of the guests to judge objectively, as well as being busy cooking, so he asked Luke to observe Leonora closely and try and see whether she seemed attached to Ben. As it turned out, the shy Leonora seemed to have vanished. She not only seemed to sparkle when she looked at Ben, Luke even noticed her reach out and get hold of his hand as they sat down at the table. Because of Ben's presence, Luke did not say grace, he and Tom just made the sign of the cross unobtrusively before eating. The evening went amazingly successfully. The men drank quite a lot, and Luke noticed that although Leonora did not drink much, she still seemed to gaze happily at Ben. She told the boys that she had decided not to become a novice; that when her exam results were known, she was going to train as a teacher of primary-school children. Tom said that it was too late for Leonora to go back to Bologna, she must stay the night at his place. They left on a late tram. "I wonder if Ben has taken Leonora's virginity yet!" said Luke in his usual crude way. 

Tom looked a bit shocked. "She's very religious. She must have fallen for Ben very hard if she's letting him fuck her," he said. "Although Leonora is incredibly sweet, and I'm very fond of her, the very thought of taking a woman's virginity scares the pants off me!" he added. 

"Well, I guess that removing your pants is the best way to begin!" joked Luke.

Chapter Twenty-six: The new répétiteuse

It was one of the days towards the end of the opera season when there was no evening performance, and Luke could spend the day at his desk. He was looking at the details of the four applicants shortlisted for the job of répétiteur at the Teatro Musicale. All the four were well qualified. There was a man from Mannheim, Italian by birth, obviously keen to go back to his native land, a lady from Antwerp, Dutch by birth, obviously keen to break into the Italian opera world, a man from Copenhagen and one from Stockholm. There were no Italians working in Italy on the list. Why would they ever want to come to Trabizona? It was not one of the well-known opera houses. All four of the shortlist were due to come for interview that day and the next. The job of répétiteur is a difficult balance of skills needed, between language coaching and musical style. Looking at the applicants' CVs, it was fairly evident that the different candidates had differing strengths in those two areas. Luke reckoned that the two who looked best on paper were the Dutch lady from Antwerp, and the Frenchman working in Stockholm. 

Cornelio, his boss, had not yet pronounced his opinions, but he was not dismayed that no Italians working in Italy had applied. He said that Italians always believed that there was no quality in opera outside Italy, whereas he himself was wide open to the world of international quality. It was self-evident both to Luke and Cornelio that the prime qualities sought were musical and Italian language skills, because not all the singers, not even all the chorus members, were Italian. Accordingly, Cornelio had decided that the interviews should be in Italian, in spite of the fact that the international language of opera is very largely English. In that way the everyday skills of the candidates would be tested. 

All the applicants were pretty good. When Pauline van Houtenstok was interviewed, she said to Luke: "I know your father very well. He sings regularly with us in Antwerpen. He is such a nice guy, even if he is gay." This lady seemed to to Luke to be the ideal candidate, but as he said to Cornelio, his opinion might be too favourable, just because his father knew her. Even so, he took the opportunity during the lunch break to try to contact his father on his cellphone. He was successful, and David said that Pauline van H. was very good at her job, and would stand no nonsense from temperamental singers. By the following day, it was clear to both Luke and Cornelio that Pauline was by far the most outstanding candidate, and after the four had left, Cornelio immediately E-mailed her offering her the job. Within hours, she had replied, accepting the offer, but saying that she had to give Vlaamse Opera three months notice. 

As Luigi, the current répétiteur, had only one month left before leaving, Cornelio told Luke that for the month of September, after the season had begun, the director of the first production and himself would have to share the répétiteur's job, leaving Luke to take over Cornelio's responsibilities. "I'll make sure that you get paid for the additional responsibility," he promised. The fact that he and Cornelio got on so well together was the reason why Luke enjoyed his job and put up with the poor pay and horrendous working hours.

Chapter Twenty-seven: Sandro's first Pentecost term

Jon had found out when Sandro was due to arrive back in Camford and met him at the station. They loaded his luggage into the 4x4 and Jon then took him into the refreshment room and bought him a cola. "Neither your uncle nor I plan to interfere with your life, Sandro," he said, "I just want to tell you that if anything goes wrong with your relationship with Jack, you must come and talk to us. Oh, and I will E-mail you with an invitation to bring Jack round for a meal within the next couple of weeks. David will be at home, and I want him to meet Jack. Is that OK?" 

"Yes, I want you to meet him." They got into the car and Jon took Sandro to Boni's and helped carry his luggage to his room. They made their farewells, and David went to the SCR to see if there was any mail for him. Sandro got out his cellphone and rang Jack. 

They had of course been in regular communication by E-mail over the vacation, but somehow Sandro found it inadequate. Because there had been no confession of love on Jack's part, Sandro felt unable to pour out his feelings, so his writing was rather stilted. True, Jack had said how much he missed Sandro, but always coupled it with some lecherous desire, which however exciting it might have sounded, did not give any assurance of love, or indeed any indication of it. It was always about what Jack wanted to do with his cock, or with Sandro's cock. Never had he said 'I love you', always 'I miss you' or 'I want you.' 

Exactly as in the previous term, Jack came round to Sandro's room in college. No sooner had he entered than Sandro threw his arms round him and kissed him passionately. Jack reciprocated by undoing Sandro,'s belt with his left hand while his other was round the boy's shoulders. He unzipped Sandro's jeans and pulled them down to his ankles, then he removed Sandro's shoes and socks and slipped his lower garments off. Sandro disengaged himself from Jack's grasp and pulled his shirt off. Jack pushed the now naked boy over to the sofa, where he made him bend over. He knelt and began to kiss Sandro's sweet brown arse. He rubbed his lips over the smooth hairless curves for some minutes before pushing his face into Sandro's arse-crack and beginning to rim him. Sandro squirmed with pleasure at the delicious sensations in the lower part of his body. Jack's long and agile tongue tried to push its way through Sandro's sphincter. He did not succeed, but the sensations Sandro was experiencing were so strong that his prick, which had been rock-hard ever since Jack entered the room, now began to spit seed over the sofa. Jack pushed him to one side and began to lick the worn leather upholstery before wrapping his arms round the naked boy and kissing him for several blissful minutes.

Jack was reluctant to think that his affection for Sandro was anything more than attraction to a sweet-natured young man, but he was wise enough to know that he had to be nice and supportive to Sandro, at least until the lad's exams were over. They resumed their twice-weekly trips to the Fitness Centre and the cinema, where of course they held hands. In the second week of the term, they went to eat at the flat in Fountain Street with David and Jon. As the older men were both chemists by training, much of the conversation was on chemical topics. Sandro listened at first politely, but found his attention wandering as the conversation progressed. He reached out under the table and got hold of Jack's hand. To his surprise and disappointment, Jack withdrew his hand and gave Sandro an impatient look. Later, Sandro realized that this was the first indication he had had that Jack was cooling off. 

Chapter Twenty-eight: Bastian's hospitality

Soon after Easter, Luke and Tom went with Bastian and Sescandante out to dinner at the gay restaurant where Bastian was a regular customer. In spite of its upmarket shops, the boys had not realized how sophisticated a city Trebizona was. In their birthday visit to Agostino's restaurant, they had been too wrapped up in themselves to notice the rest of the clientèle. Tom had few acquaintances outside the university apart from his elderly piano teacher, and Luke's job rarely took him front of house at the theatre. 

The restaurant was quite busy with smartly dressed men in their late twenties and thirties, quite different from the rather shabby young people who made up most of the student population, or the T-shirted or leather jacketed population of an English gay pub. Luke had recently temporarily abandoned his preference for Giorgio Armani, and purchased a new Tom Ford suit. The narrow-legged trousers suited his skinny figure very well, but all that Tom said was that he preferred Luke with his trousers off! Tom only wore fancy clothes to please his mate, a feature which endeared him greatly to his father David, who, although he did not dress scruffily, rarely wore fancy clothes when he was not performing professionally. Most of Luke's work colleagues were too badly paid to wear designer garments, so he did not usually wear suits or other designer clothes at work, unless he was meeting eminent conductors, directors or singers. Bastian was delighted with his two fashionably dressed companions and spent several minutes exuding charm, much to Sescantante's amusement. Sescantante said to the boys, "Please call me Arturo when I'm not at work." 

They lingered over the Prosecco for a full half hour while perusing the menu. The boys suddenly realized that they were being shown off to the more well-heeled gay population of Trabizona. "Everyone will now know that we're gay," muttered Tom to Luke. 

"What is there to be secretive about?" asked Luke, "Are you ashamed of me?" 

"Of course not, I'm proud to be yours," replied Tom. "It's just that I have a nagging fear that you'll see someone here whom you fancy," he added. 

"What the fuck does it matter if I do?" said Luke, "I've promised lifetime fidelity to you, but that doesn't mean that I can't appreciate male beauty when I see it!" The two older men were much amused by this conversation. 

"You'll meet some of these guys at my summer party," said Arturo. From time to time in the course of the meal, various acquaintances of Bastian came up and greeted him. Luke and Tom were conscious of being scrutinized by these young men, and Luke was embarrassed.

They had the restaurant's tasting menu, which was basically a large number of very small helpings of food, each course being accompanied by a small glass of an appropriate wine. There were seven courses and seven wines in all. "Bastian," Tom said, "this is fantastic hospitality! If you insist on treating us, we are determined to return your generosity. We're not classic impecunious students, you must know that from our clothes. I and the lady who cleans for us will produce for you both a very acceptable meal. Obviously it won't be as fancy as this, but we will ensure a high standard of food and wine. It might take us a few weeks to get it organized, though. Compared with chemical research, cookery is just a matter of care and imagination. There are no unknowns about where the result might take you."

Chapter Twenty-nine: Tom's birthday

Luke often reflected about how lonely Tom must get late in the evenings, with nothing but books, the piano and the cooking stove for company, so on the occasion of Tom's twentyfourth birthday early in June, he negotiated with Cornelio for an evening off work. He went to the local shops and bought cold meats, cheese, salad materials, panini and ready-made desserts and a bottle of Prosecco and a carton of orange juice for himself, who was driving. He had told Tom that morning to finish work at 5 pm. As soon as Tom got home, they loaded the food and drink and eating utensils into the car and set off into the countryside. Luke had made sure that there were rugs in the car and had other necessaries for lovemaking with him. It was a lovely warm evening, so they changed into shorts before leaving.




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 05



After driving for half an hour, they reached a small lake, surrounded by meadows and woods. They parked the car and picked up the bags with the picnic materials, spread out the rugs and settled down on the grass at the edge of the woods. Leaning against a tree, Luke put his arm round Tom and kissed him on the lips. It was a very long, lingering kiss, and Tom nearly swooned in delight. Used to taking the initiative in lovemaking, Tom was always overwhelmed with joy when his partner made the first approach. He just relaxed and let Luke have his way. 

Luke rolled over and started to kiss Tom's leg, starting at the top of his sock, and running his lips over Tom's furry leg until he reached the bottom of his shorts. The soft hair felt wonderful on Luke's lips, and he used his tongue to lubricate the movement of his lips. He then undid Tom's belt and pulled his shorts and underpants down to his ankles. He resumed kissing Tom's left leg at the knee and began to work along his thigh till he reached Tom's pubic bush. He stuck his tongue between Tom's leg and his left bollock and started to lick Tom's scrotum. Tom moaned in delight. "Keep at it, fag-boy, it's beautiful!" he murmured. Luke obliged. Next he started to nuzzle Tom's pubic hair, faintly smelling of Storing pour Homme, before starting to run his lips along the hard and glistening shaft of Tom's stiff cock, which had been moistened by a copious flow of precome. He started to nibble Tom's retracted foreskin, and once again Tom moaned in delight. Then Luke took Tom's woody manhood into his mouth and started to suck. They didn't make love much during the week because of the lateness of Luke's working hours, so Tom's cock did not require more than five minutes in Luke's delicious mouth before he shot a sizeable load of spunk into it. Luke swallowed it greedily, before relaxing and laying his head on Tom's hairy belly. "I love you, darling Tom," he muttered. 

After five minutes, he removed his shirt, jeans and underpants and, cock sticking up like a lever, he pulled Tom's shorts over his feet and made him stand up, bend over and wrap his arms round the tree. "I'm going to bugger the shit out of you!" he whispered, and pulled a condom onto his rock-hard tool. Having poked a good quantity of K-Y gel into Tom's hole, he pushed his berubbered dick gently into it and began to roger him. The lube did its work: Luke's movements were silkily smooth and he was able to fuck slowly but steadily for a good ten minutes before the male miracle occurred. By this time, he was sweating profusely. As he withdrew his tool from his lover's anus, he grabbed hold of him and turned him round and began to smother his face with kisses, rubbing and kneading Tom's arse-cheeks with both hands. 

The two boys then lay resting, their naked bodies entwined together, until Luke's stomach began to rumble, and he said to Tom, "Time to eat, stud-boy," and opened the bottle of Prosecco and poured a large glassful for Tom and a much smaller glassful for himself. Although it was still quite warm, the boys decided in the interests of propriety to get dressed, at least in their footwear, jeans and underpants. Anyone might come along at any moment! Then Luke started to slice the panini and fill them with cheese and prosciuto, lettuce, rocket, tomato and celery. They were both ravenously hungry, but still managed to exchange kisses between mouthfuls. 

When they had finished eating, Luke got up and walked back to the car. To avoid spoiling their romantic moments, when he was out of Tom's earshot, he farted loudly twice. Having relieved his internal gas pressure and got what he wanted from the car, he returned to his lover and presented him with a small gift-wrapped box. "Happy birthday, my sweet man," he said as he handed it to his partner. Tom opened the box and took out a small gold celtic cross on a gold chain. "You must wear it all the time, Tom," said Luke, "In bed, in the pool, on the beach, to remind you of the love and suffering of Our Lord Jesus, and to proclaim your faith in Him. I should have given you one at your baptism, when you were born a second time, but I've made up for that now." 

"Oh, Luke, it's wonderful. I often think what a poor witness I am to my faith. Now I will never forget that I am a Christian, and that God loves me in spite of my faults." With that Tom put his arms round his boyfriend and kissed him passionately. Luke undid the clasp and fixed the chain round Tom's neck and kissed the back of his neck before running his lips through Tom's short hair. 

"Do you remember the first time that we did it out of doors?" he whispered. "Under that rock in Wales when you asked me to be yours for life?" 

"How can I ever forget? It was the happiest moment of my life." And Tom kissed Luke's ring.

After half an hour they put their shirts back on, and as it was now nearly dark, they drove back home.

Chapter Thirty: Disappointment and disillusion

In Camford, the Pentecost term went by. Sandro and Jack met regularly for swimming and sex. Their visits to the cinema diminished in frequency as the exams approached. Sandro's work that term was mainly practical work, with fewer lectures, which meant that revision was confined to evenings and Sundays, as he always spent Saturday afternoons and evenings with Jack. Sandro discovered that even as a freshman, he could take a guest into formal dinner, if he had booked places on the once weekly guest table, limited to ten college members, with much fancier (and dearer) food than the standard undergraduate fare. So he invited Jack to join him on guest table. The food was excellent, he and Jack got through a bottle of expensive French red wine and they had coffee in Sandro's room afterwards. Taking the advice of Jon and David, Sandro had firmly decided that he would not let Jack 'go all the way' until he had made an indication that he wanted a long-term relationship. In the meantime, the condoms lay unused in the drawer. 

The speed swimming had worked wonders for Sandro's musculature. His arm and leg muscles steadily developed to a male adult strength and bulk, and his figure had lost a lot of its boyish skinniness. Jack secretly regretted this, it was the boyishness of Sandro's body that had appealed to him. Throughout the exam period, they met regularly to suck cock in either Jack's or Sandro's room, and Sandro would enter the exam hall each day with a pleasant feeling of emptiness in his nuts. 

His last exam took place at the end of the first week of the summer vacation, and Jack turned up at the examination hall door with the traditional bottle of Prosecco, which Sandro made him share with the other two first-year engineers from Boni's. He carried Sandro off, without him having had time to call in at college to remove his gown and sub-fusc, to the Venezia, where they enjoyed a long leisurely meal together with two bottles of Italian wine. 

Sandro knew that he had about three weeks to wait before his exam results were published, so rather than going home to Italy, he moved into the apartment in Fountain Street. The intention was that after the exams he would go with Jon to Heemstede for two weeks before going home. However, at their dinner after the exams Jack told him that he was extremely busy in the lab, and would not have any chance to see him before he left for Heemstede. So Sandro was obliged to go swimming at the Men's Fitness Centre on his own. 

One day he was undressing at one end of the changing room when he heard a familiar voice. At the other end of the room, he could see Jack with a boy of about eighteen. He hid behind a locker, unobserved, and followed the two into the dark corridor leading to the old pool. The two stopped and Sandro was near enough to see that they were kissing. Sandro suddenly felt dreadful. It seemed as if an awful pit had opened up in his stomach. It looked as though Jack had another boyfriend. He crept along behind them as they walked towards the pool. He hid out of sight and watched them dive into the water and start to race one another, just as Jack had done with him all those months before. His head was at once filled with disquieting thoughts. It was unlikely that this boy was a student, as most of the undergraduates had gone down. So he was probably a schoolboy, or a foreigner on a language course. Sandro went back to the changing room and headed for the new pool, where he tried to work off his dismay and frustration in a vigorous half-hour of speed swimming. 

One thing was absolutely clear to him. Jack did not want a long-term relationship. Sandro was unsure what to do. Should he confront Jack, or should he just try and forget about him? At least he had not sacrificed his anal virginity! He had no female or gay friends of his own age to discuss his unhappiness with, so, unable to wait till the evening, he rang Jon. Jon, sensing that something was the matter, asked Sandro to come at once and talk to him. He was in his room in college. So Sandro walked the short distance to Boni's and climbed the stairs to his uncle's teaching room. He told Jon what he had seen. Jon said, "I think that you should talk to Jack. It's unlikely that you are wrong, but it's important that you hear Jack's side of the story. I know that he is not devious or dishonest, so if you ask him if he is tired of you, he will say yes if he is. It would be a shame if you broke up with him when he really did want a long-term relationship. Alternatively you could just go home and forget about him, which is what I think he hopes you will do, which is why he chose this time to stop seeing you. After all, most students would just choose their room for next year and then go home to await their exam results." 

"I'm going to ring him," said Sandro, "and now is the time to do it. It's about 5 pm, he'll be finishing in the lab, but not yet on the way home." He took out his cellphone and dialled Jack's number. Jon opened a cupboard, took out a bottle of Madeira, and poured Sandro a large glassful, and one for himself. 

Jack answered his phone very quickly. "Sandro? I'm sorry, I haven't got much time. What do you want?" 

"It's more a question of what do YOU want!" replied Sandro. "Do you want me? I want to be yours, but I don't want to share you with someone else, someone such as the boy I saw you with at the Fitness Centre today. Are you seeing someone else?" 

"Yes, I am, actually! You ought to meet him, he's a sixth-former at Winton College School." 

"I don't want to meet him, and I don't want to see you any more!" said Sandro with a sob. "Goodbye, Jack!" and he pressed the end-call button. 

"That was very brave of you, Sandro," Jon said. He handed Sandro the glass of Madeira. "Here, drink this!" Shaking all over, Sandro burst into tears. Jon took the boy into his arms and kissed him gently. Sandro took a gulp of the fortified wine and gazed tearfully at his uncle. "You need something different to think about, Sandro. Let's go and get pissed!" 

They walked to the Sparrowhawk and Jon ordered two pints of beer. He and Sandro sat down and Jon handed him the menu. "It's not good to drink on an empty stomach, Sandro, choose something to eat!" Reluctantly, Sandro did as he as told. When it arrived, he realized that he was quite hungry. They both ate, and Jon tried to cheer Sandro up. They then had a further pint, by which time Sandro was feeling somewhat happier. They discussed their forthcoming visit to the Netherlands, and Jon said that he knew several things and places that would interest an engineering student and Sandro asked if they could go and hear David sing. Jon said that he would of course arrange that, as David had a couple of recitals booked in July, even though that is the peak Dutch holiday period. 

After a third pint, Sandro was pretty sozzled, and Jon suggested that they went home while Sandro was still able to walk! They walked unsteadily back to Fountain Street and Jon asked Sandro if he wanted more alcohol or some coffee. Sandro wisely opted for coffee. "Next term your exams will be out of the way, and you will have more time to spend with your friends. You might also be able to look around at the freshmen, and see if there is anyone that you fancy. As you've not officially come out in college yet, you're not even obliged to look only at men. You might meet a nice girl." 

"No," said Sandro, "what I do now know for certain is that I'm gay. No women for me!" 

"The reason that you feel so bad about Jack" said Jon, "is not love, but jealousy. If he had just told you that he didn't love you, you wouldn't have been so upset. It was the fact that he was seeing someone else. When Tom discovered during their second year that Luke had been to the cinema a couple of times with an Italian Ph.D. student, he was furious and threatened to beat the guy up if he laid a finger on Luke. That was just jealousy. Tom is a very gentle person, in spite of his muscles. You will soon forget about Mr Meredith." 

"I hope you're right!" said Sandro, "do you mind helping me get to bed?" 

Jon helped him undress and let a very fuddled young man clean his teeth and piss copiously in the bathroom before tucking him up into bed in Sandro's micro bedroom. He felt like a father all over again. It was a feature of Sandro's sweet nature that he now had two father figures, neither of whom had actually begotten him!

Chapter Thirty-one: Exam results and a Dutch holiday

During the couple of weeks before the exam results, Jon tried hard to distract Sandro. They went on the river, they went to the cinema, they visited some tourist attractions, they went for walks on the hills surrounding the city. They even went to the opera. The so-called Camford Opera House was a commercial theatre that had a couple of weeks of touring opera each year, and that year the touring company came in July. Jon thought that an opera in his native tongue might cheer Sandro up. Unfortunately the opera that Jon got tickets for was Madama Butterfly. It was a good production with an excellent (and handsome) tenor singing Pinkerton, but its gloomy and depressing picture of abandoned love caused Sandro to see himself in the role of an abandoned Cio-Cio San, and to end up in tears. Anyone who thinks that Sandro's reaction was babyish does not understand the deep emotionality of operatic music. Once again, Jon had to rely on alcohol to cheer him up.

When the exam results were published, Jon accompanied Sandro to the University Aula where they were on display. Sandro had got a distinction. Jon was delighted and said, "At least Jack Meredith had the decency not to dump you until you had sat your exams. I know from personal experience that regular sex is good for exam performance!" When Sandro went to Boni's next day to see his tutor by appointment, he was told that he had been awarded a college scholarship, so following in the footsteps of his Uncle David. His tutor told him that he should at once go and see the college Dean to discuss his choice of accommodation for the following year. He was entitled to an en-suite room, a stipend of £500 per year, the right to wear a long scholar's gown and a surplice in chapel. There was also a Scholars' Dinner once per year, when the scholars dined with the fellows. "You can easily sell your commoner's gown to a freshman next term," said his tutor. "I'm very impressed by the Italian educational system. Your exam performance was outstanding." 

For the first time since his showdown with Jack, Sandro felt really happy. He had vindicated the faith in him that his parents, his uncles and his brother and 'brother' (Tom) had shown, and already his memories of the good times of sucking Jack's cock and being sucked by him were beginning to fade. He selected a newly modernized first-floor room in the first quadrangle of the college with its own small but satisfactory bathroom, WiFi and wired internet access, double glazing of the ancient windows and convenient access to both hall and beer cellar. Because he was a scholar, the room cost no more than he had paid in his first year, which would also give satisfaction to his parents. Although he had a student loan to pay his fees, the maintenance part of the loan had needed supplementation by his parents. 

The college had by then virtually completed its room modernization programme, thanks to generous funding by alumni, of whom Sandro's Uncle Jon had been one of the largest contributors, a fact only known to the family and the college's most senior members. One staircase of ten rooms remained without en-suite bathroom facilities (there were three shared bathrooms) and without wired internet and phone facilities. These rooms were much cheaper than the other college rooms and were very popular as a result. At the end of every academic year, the college surveyed the students on this staircase and polled them as to whether the rooms should be upgraded, and every year the proposal was nearly unanimously voted down! The college used these rooms for graduate students during vacations, as they were unpopular with the conference trade.

Jon and Sandro left Camford immediately, took the Eurostar and the Thalys from London to the Hague via Brussels, and arrived at Sandro's uncles' house in Heemstede in time for dinner. David had booked a table at a good restaurant to celebrate Sandro's successes, with plenty of Prosecco before the meal, at which they all had too much to drink, and as the house was too far away to walk home, they went in a cab.

Sandro's main impression of the Netherlands was that it was like Camford, but cleaner and more modern. He liked the food, the laid-back attitude of the inhabitants and the fact that nearly everyone could speak English. Sometimes he went out with one of his uncles, but often he would go off on his own to see various cities and their sights. Travel by train on the Dutch railways was cheap with his student card. One evening he went with Jon to hear and see David sing in a recital in the Kleine Zaal of the Amsterdam Concertgebouw. The programme involved songs by Händel, Schubert, Purcell and Britten. The hall was packed, and Sandro joined enthusiastically in the applause. Although not very musical himself, he was proud to have such a talented uncle, and he was not surprised to see tears in his Uncle Jon's eyes. The concert was sponsored by one of the Dutch public broadcasting unions, and was one of a series. David had also agreed to record as presenter a series of music programmes, exploring the vocal works of six composers for broadcast on Dutch public Radio 4. He welcomed this as an opportunity to earn some money without having to sing!

Sandro's interests in his course were leaning towards specialization in Civil Engineering, and he was interested in looking at numerous Dutch railway buildings and trackside features. After an enjoyable and relaxed two weeks, he embarked on an adventurous train journey to return home home via Germany and Switzerland. He could have flown, but he wanted to see more of Europe. 

By the time he got home, it was mid-August, and he got a part-time job in a supermarket to earn some money and see more of life. He also had two vacation assignments to do while he was at home. He spent a few days staying with Tom and Luca and seeing the sights of Trabizona. He thanked Luca affectionately for defending his gayness to his parents. There were no opera performances during August, and Luke was relieved to be able to work normal office hours. They even took Sandro for a meal at the gay restaurant where they had been entertained by Bastian. Sandro's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw all the smartly dressed Italian gays holding hands. He himself got quite a few lecherous looks from the other diners!

Chapter Thirty-two: Luke and Tom on holiday

In August Luke and Tom were finally able to take a break. The Teatro Musicale was closed, except for an occasional concert or recital, and Luke was free to go away. They decided to spend two weeks in Heemstede with Luke's parents. Some of the time Luke's grandparents would also be there. It would be the first time that all six of them were together since Luke and Tom's civil partnership ceremony nearly two years before. The boys decided to go by car, the main reason being that they wanted to visit Belgium and bring home as much Belgian beer as they could cram into the car. EU regulations allowed them to bring back fifty litres per person, which was more than they could get into the small Fiat. It took three days driving on the autobahn through Austria and Germany to reach the Netherlands. They stopped one night in Munich, one in Mannheim and one in Köln. There were long spells of driving, and all they did in the three cities was to eat and go to bed. Late on the fourth day, they arrived in Heemstede just in time for a late dinner. Mrs and Mrs Scarborough were delighted to see them, and Jon had cooked them a special meal. 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 05



The boys slept late the next day, missed breakfast and adjourned to a café near Jon and David's house for a lunch of an uitsmijter (a slice of toast with a slice of ham, topped by a poached egg) and a glass of pils. All six of them spent the afternoon in the local park enjoying the sun and catching up with each others' news. After a few days together, Mr and Mrs Scarborough left to go and visit David's brother Jeroen and his family in Locarno, where they were going to stay for six weeks and then come on to join the boys, who by then would be back at work, and stay with them in Trabizona for a couple of weeks. One day David took the boys to Amersfoort to meet his uncle and aunt, who were now retired from their café, and took them out for a meal. 

Neither of the boys knew the Netherlands very well, so they had a busy time visiting all the major sights of the country and taking Luke's parents out to eat. They went to a recital by David in Scheveningen, which was broadcast on Dutch public radio. He had widened his repertoire considerably, and sang works by Britten and Vaughan Williams as well as the standard Schubert and Mozart songs. As usual, the hall was packed and the reception rapturous. Tom could stamp and shout to his heart's content, and it was not out of place. The stolid Dutch were enthusiastic about this foreigner who spoke their language. 

One weekend when David was not teaching, they all went to Spa in Belgium for a few days. They went in David's car, which was large enough for all four of them and all the beer that they were going to buy. They spent most of their stay engaged in thermoludism (French for fooling around in the waters of the Clementine spring) and then guzzling cream cakes in one or other of the numerous tea-shops, for which all spa towns are renowned. It is ironic that many visitors to places like Spa seem to spend as much time eating unhealthily as they do improving their health with the 'cure!' Jon and Luke had the advantage over David and Tom in speaking fluent French. 

Jon told the boys how, just before he finished his Ph.D., David had abandoned him and gone to Spa to unwind from his hectic life for a week on a sportieve kuur, an intense week of physical activities, without telling Jon where he had gone. Nowadays of course, he said they saw so little of each other that every day spent together had the nature of a fuck-festival! Luke had never heard his parents speak so frankly before about their sexual relationship. He felt a bit embarrassed, whereas Tom merely grinned! On their last day in the resort, they went to the supermarket and stocked up with a massive quantity and assortment of Belgian bottle-conditioned beers. "There's enough here to keep us going in Trabizona for a year!" exclaimed Tom. "Yes, and we can resume your beer education, Tom," said Luke. "Beer's much healthier than wine. I sometimes think we drink too much wine. Of course, it's so cheap in Italy." 

The last night in Heemstede, by mutual consent, both couples went to bed early after eating at 6 pm. "Please keep your bedroom door closed, boys, in case things get too noisy!" said Jon. Tom and Luke undressed hurriedly and leapt into bed. They began with a prolonged 69 session, Luke on all fours over Tom lying on his back. Tom caught Luke's dangling cock in his mouth and Luke got hold of Tom's, lying limply on his belly, and took the head of it into his mouth until he could feel it stiffening. Both men enjoyed that delightful sensation of reaching full penile hardness in their partner's mouth. 

In the other bedroom, things were proceeding more slowly. Jon was engaged in undressing David, starting with his shoes. Once David's socks and jeans had been removed, Jon started at David's feet and slowly kissed his way up David's inside left leg until he reached his underpants, and ran his lips over the hard lump that he could feel under the silk. Already a moist patch of precome was visible on the silk, which rapidly became damper still with Jon's saliva. Jon pulled off David's shirt and gently disengaged the silk garment from David's monster rock-hard cock, pulled it down over his partner's legs, and started to lick David's balls, pulling gently on the scrotal hair with his lips. He then opened his mouth wide and took David's left bollock into his mouth and sucked it gently. The scent of Storing pour homme pervaded the whole genital area, to Jon's great delight. 

David groaned with pleasure, as Jon's lips ranged along the shaft of his dick, licking every little lump and vein. When he reached David's foreskin, he began to nibble it gently with his teeth, while using his hands to pull down his own trousers and underpants. He then took David's hot and slimy tool into his mouth and set to work on it with his tongue and lips. His two hands cupped each of David's buttocks as he engulfed the giant prick as deeply as he could in his mouth. David began to make vigorous fucking movements and to pant with excitement. After a few minutes, he shot his load violently into Jon's welcoming mouth. Jon swallowed his partner's jism after savouring it in his mouth and pulled David down on top of him on the bed. They lay, clasped in each other's arms for about ten minutes, before Jon rolled David over and pulled his legs apart. After the usual preparations, he entered David's hole and began to fuck him gently, bending over from time to time to kiss David's lips or chest or nipples or shoulder. Twenty years of hot sex had not diminished their energies or their desire for one another. After Jon had come, he lay beside David and kissed him tenderly. "Do you remember the first time that I fucked you, and my four hour erection due to the experimental blue pill? It all seems a long time ago." 

"Of course I remember, and the wonderful meal that was delivered after your carefully organized virginity-loss session! And now our son is being fucked by his boyfriend in the next-door bedroom! I wonder how they celebrated their first time. I don't know about Luke, but I bet that Tom didn't need any pills!"

In the other bedroom, the two younger boys were enjoying a simultaneous orgasm as both came into each other's mouths. Luke had his usual problem of avoiding dribbling Tom's ejaculate all over the bed and Tom's legs, while Tom had to try and swallow Luke's load while lying on his back and trying not to choke. Eventually Luke rolled off Tom on to the bed beside him and lay there enjoying the taste of Tom. Tom sat up slightly, swallowed Luke's man-juice and turned on to his side to kiss Luke's shoulder. "Do you feel like a fuck?" he asked. 

"Me fucking you or you fucking me?" asked Luke. 

"You fucking me!" said Tom, "My hole needs stretching and my prostate needs poking. Push your king-size cock into my chocolate boulevard. I really want you inside me. I want you to roger me as hard as you did on my birthday!" It always gave Luke a thrill when Tom asked him to make love to him: he was so used to being bottom that a turn on top was even more enjoyable. Tom too relished the opportunity to lie back and let Luke have his way with him. So they fucked in the missionary position, Tom lying on his back with Luke entering him from between his legs, and pausing frequently to bend forward and kiss his lips. As usual, Luke felt a wave of joy, awe, wonder and tenderness sweep over him as he shot his load into Tom's welcoming gut, a sensation that increased his loving awareness of God pouring His love and mercy over wilful humanity. After he had come, he gently withdrew from Tom's hole and lay beside Tom, his arm round Tom's chest. They did not feel like their usual post-coital chattiness, they just lay there dozing for half an hour. They then woke up and found that it was 10 pm. "Do you feel like going out for a drink? asked Luke. 

"Yes," said Tom, "What about your fathers?" he asked. Luke reached for his phone and rang David. The phone was answered promptly, leading Luke to conclude that his fathers had not been engaged in shagging. 

"Dad, it's Luke. I didn't like to knock on your bedroom door for fear of interrupting something! Are you interested in going out for a beer, do you just want to go to sleep?" 

"Just let me talk to Jon, and see how he feels." Two minutes later came the reply, "Give us ten minutes to get dressed and we'll be with you!" Ten minutes later the four of them were heading round the corner to the nearest café.

........

Next day, the boys packed their cases and the boxes of beer into the Fiat, and set off on the three-day drive to Trabizona. 

TO BE CONTINUED



An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 06



 [No sex in this short instalment, but please keep reading. There will be plenty in Pt 07.]

Chapter Thirty-three: Ben's engagement

One morning late in August, Tom and Ben were running in the Parco Emilio Guzzone, when Ben suddenly announced, "Last night I asked Leonora to marry me, and she said yes!" Tom was taken by surprise. He stopped abruptly and Ben, who had been running beside him, stopped and turned back. 

Tom put an arm round his sweaty companion and said, "Congratulations. She's the best woman I know, apart from my sister and Luke's grandmother. You are very lucky. It's always good when two of one's best friends get together. You will be good for each other. Luke will be delighted. Leonora has a lot to learn about men, and neither Luke nor I could give her what she needs. We could tell her that men are different from women, but we would never be able to prove it. Moreover, I think that you have much more understanding of women than either Luke or I have. I hope that you are an opera fan! But you'll have to come to an understanding with her about faith. It is very important to her and you will have to accept that it will always play a big role in her life. When and where do you plan to get married?"

"We're not certain, but probably not for a year or so, to give Leonora a chance to get her teacher training finished and start a job. As to where, probably from her home."

"You will like her parents. They were never keen on the convent plan. They want grandchildren, and she is their only child. We met them a few months ago in Orta San Giulio." 

"You mentioned opera. I don't know much about it, I've always been a Country-and-Western fan." 

"In that case, I'll get Luke to get us tickets—just the three of us, he will be working backstage—for Luke's latest production, which might suit you, it's Puccini's La Fanciulla del West."

So it happened that Ben, Tom and Leonora attended the opening night of Puccini's opera at the Teatro Musicale early in September. The tenor lead role of Dick Johnson, sung by Caruso in the opera's première in New York in 1910, was sung by an Australian tenor, who was rather disappointing, but this did not spoil Ben's enjoyment of the 'exotick and irrational entertainment' that Dr Sam Johnson named opera. Ben said that he could see that opera could be a very enjoyable spectacle as long as you didn't take it too seriously. (In any case, he had been seriously engaged in holding Leonora's hand!) She was glad that he felt able to come with her to opera performances. Tom said that they must both come the following year to the three different operas in which Luke's father David would be appearing. "I think that he's the greatest tenor in the world at present," he told them "The twenty-first century's successor to José Careras, and the greatest gay tenor since Peter Pears."









Chapter Thirty-four: Exchanges of E-mails I 

(1) From lizappleton@xxxx.net to t.appleton@yyyy.it 

Dear Tom

It's a long time since I wrote to you. I hope that you are keeping well, that you are continuing to enjoy Italy and that your work is going well. 

This is to tell you something that I have told no-one else. I am going to get MARRIED! He's a couple of years younger than me, and he's absolutely sweet. Now I know what it's like to be in love. I've always envied you and Luke, though I tried not to show it. He runs an IT business, but it's totally different from mine. He's into electronics and server technology and internet hardware. He's not been in business as long as I have, but he's doing very well. His business is in Newcastle, and when we get married, my business will relocate to Tyneside. All my employees (all three of them!) are happy to move, so we will move first, and I will then marry Aidan, probably in September next year, and we expect you and Luke to be there. Knowing Aidan has changed my life. You know how tense and hassled I used to get? Well Aidan has changed all that. You might guess from his name that he's not a working class boy. Children's first names are a dead giveaway as far as social class is concerned. He does come from these parts, but he's a Camford graduate, he went to Winton College. 

I have not told Dad or any of our sisters yet. I'm not even sure about inviting them to the wedding. None of them has given a shit about you or me for the last six or seven years, I don't see why I should spoil what I hope will be one of the best days of my life by inviting them. What do you think? The last time I heard anything, Dad was not too well. I think he is in danger of lung cancer. One thing we can be sure about: his bitch friends will not give a fuck if he gets taken ill. None of them will nurse him. Nor will I. One of our sisters will have to do it. 

How is my sweet Luke? Not fucking you too hard, I hope! (I shouldn't have said that, should I?). Give him my love. 

Your loving sister, Liz XXXXXXXX





(2) From t.appleton@yyyy.it to lizappleton@xxxx.net 



My darling Liz 

What brilliant news! So you finally took my advice to find a nice man. Having found one myself, it's advice I give to all the unmarried girls that I know (which isn't many). But I've got a lot of questions. What's his surname? How tall is he? How much does he weigh? What colour is his hair? What's he like in bed?(or shouldn't I ask?). 

We have all been bowled over by the news that my brother Sandro is gay. He has made a bad start to his love life. He broke up with the man he had fallen for just after his exams. Fortunately he did well in his exams and got a college scholarship like Luke and I did. 

Luke is going to be very busy for the next few weeks. They will be without a répétiteur at the opera house until October, and Luke's boss will have to be répétiteur until then, and Luke will have to do his boss's normal job. Luke's former fag-hag Leonora has just got engaged to one of my lab colleagues, a big change of mind and heart for a girl who was going into a convent! I take some credit in having advised her to find a nice man and introducing them to one another. 

As far as Dad is concerned (and our sisters too, for that matter), don't invite them. If you have a church wedding, I will gladly give you away. I will be there whatever happens. Luke may have problems, but if the new répétiteuse proves good at her job, he might just be able get three days off to come with me. 

My darling Liz, I wish you the deepest possible happiness with this lucky man who has fallen for you. He could not have made a wiser decision. You have been a mother to me since Mum died, and you deserve the best. I hope he comes up to expectations! But knowing your judgement, I'm sure that he will. 

Your loving brother, 

Tom XXXXXX



(3) From margaret.johnson@qqqq.camf.ac.uk to t.appleton@yyyy.it 

Dear Tom 

Good news! Sarah and I are going to become civil partners in September, just two years after you and Luke tied the knot. I've wanted it ever since we were at your ceremony with Luke. Sarah was quite ready to commit, but she wanted to get herself fixed up with a job and a pension first, before she would say yes. A year ago, I graduated and was awarded a studentship to do Ph.D. research in the Chemical Laboratory and Sarah is now working as a teacher. We will be living in Camford. Please let me have a street address for you both, so that your formal invitation to the ceremony can be sent by snail-mail. It will arrive very soon, and we expect you both to be there. No presents are requested. Like you and Luke, we both want to give something to help students enjoy Camford as much as we have, so please send a few euros to St Etheldreda's student hardship fund. I hope that you and Luke are enjoying Italy and getting on OK, without any major bust-ups. Give him our love. Do you get to hear much music? I miss being able to hear concerts with you. 

With my best love, 

Margaret XXX



(4) From t.appleton@yyyy.it to margaret.johnson@qqqq.camf.ac.uk 

My dear Margaret 

Congratulations! I can recommend civil partnership. It gives that wonderful advantage of maximizing temptation and maximizing opportunity! But maybe women are not so obsessive about sex as men. 

It took me a very long time to adjust to life in a foreign land. I love Italy, and now feel quite at home here, but it always keeps reminding me that I'm not Italian. Settling down here would have been very difficult were it not for my wonderful Luke's constant concern and moral support. It was a huge struggle to get proficient in the language, but now I don't have any problems, thanks in part to the huge vocabulary of dirty words that Luke has taught me! We live at Via Gioachino Rossini 176B, Trabizona, Emilia-Romagna.

I'm enjoying my work in the lab and have good colleagues and an excellent boss, who is as gay as a nine-pound note! Unfortunately, Luke's working hours are pretty horrible. On performance nights, we sit down to dinner at 11 pm, which is not good for either our digestions or our sex life. Regrettably, many of the concerts and musical events in Trabizona happen when Luke is working, and I don't really like going on my own, so I miss quite a lot. We do a small amount of singing, in the choir of the English Church in Bologna, but nothing much really. I've also resumed the piano lessons that stopped when my mother died. Luke may have a problem in getting time off for your partnership ceremony, but he will do his best, and whatever happens, I will be there to see you and Sarah united. Give her my love and tell her from me that she's a lucky girl!

My deepest good wishes to you both 

Love, Tom XXXX 



(5) From t.appleton@yyyy.it to f.j.eglantine@zzzz.camf.ac.uk 

Dear Francis 

I have been so busy lately that I have got quite slack with my prayer life. Although fairly regular in prayer, church attendance and sacramental life, I am conscious of a need for spiritual refreshment, to give some time to God. I am going to be in Camford for a few days in September to attend a Civil Partnership ceremony, and I wondered if it were possible for you to suggest somewhere where I might spend a day in quiet and prayer. My darling Luke is unable to get time off to come with me, but is otherwise keeping busy and well. We worship nearly every Sunday at the English Church in Bologna, and sing in the choir. We did have one spirituality day at the Sacromonte in Orta, but that was months ago. 

I hope all is going well at Buckingham. 

My love and best wishes in Christ. 

Tom





Chapter Thirty-five: Life in Trabizona continues

Tom took an hour off work one morning to see Costanza, the boys' cleaning lady, in order to discuss with her the menu for entertaining Arturo and Bastian to dinner. Between them, they devised an attractive menu involving a main course of venison cooked with truffles, with a prawn lasagna starter and a rather special Sicilian dessert that Costanza asserted was her prize dish. Tom insisted on coming with Costanza to buy the meat and truffles, partly in order to enlarge his vocabulary of food items. Luke chose three wines including a delicious dessert wine, and they would begin the evening with Franciacotta instead of the usual Prosecco. 

Tom fixed with Luke some dates when he was not working and went to see Professor Sescandante. The latter said to him, "I think it's time that we wrote a paper about your new bioassay method, but I was wondering about patent protection." 

"I think a patent is a waste of time. It would create a long delay before we could publish anything, and because there are several other bacterial mutants that could be used, already in the public domain, it would be easy for someone to devise a method using one of those. But maybe we should check out the method using other mutants. I'll get going on that today. It shouldn't take long. By the way, what I came to see you about was that Luke and I want you and Bastian to come and dine with us at home. I've got several possible dates." 

"Oh, thank you. I'll talk to Bastian and come back to you with a date. I hope you or Luke will sing for us."

"We both will, if you like. You've never heard me sing Luke's father's gay anthem, Dear Pretty youth. It's by one of England's most underappreciated composers, Henry Purcell. Did we tell you that Tom's father will be doing a season in Trabizona next year? He'll be appearing in L'Italiana in Algeri, La Traviata and Lucia di Lammermoor. The tenor part in Lucia will be a new role for him." 

A date was fixed at the beginning of September, and on it at 7 pm, a smartly dressed pair of men climbed the outside steps to Luke and Tom's apartment. The neighbour's children, playing in the courtyard, gawped in amazement at this unusual sight. Tom had arranged with Costanza to come along to serve the meal, but that she would leave after serving the main course. They assured her that they would take care of the washing up after she had gone. The cooking was mainly done by Costanza, except for the vegetables and the truffle sauce, which Tom prepared.

The meal was a great success. Luke had been kept in the dark about the menu and forbidden entry to their small kitchen, so the meal was as much a surprise to him as to Bastian and Arturo. The visitors brought flowers and a bottle, which Arturo said should be kept for another day. Everyone enjoyed the exotic food, and while Tom's cooking was not that of a professional chef, being very plain, with only vegetables as a side-dish to the carne di cerva con tartuffi, it was absolutely delicious, and all of them, Tom included, were bowled over by Costanza's Sicilian dessert. Luke had been and talked to the neighbours to warn them that there might be music later in the evening. Tom sang his beloved David's song Dear pretty youth, a very unoperatic melody, but Bastian in particular loved it. If I with you, all night could be, he kept repeating. Sescantante grinned at him. Tom wondered if these men were as cynical as they seemed, or whether there was an underlying streak of tenderness in their relationship. This is, after all, a romantic story and love is an emotion not confined to the young. He then sang for them a couple of David's Handelian numbers: Ombra mai fu, the famous largo and Where'er you walk. The evening ended with both boys singing the duet by Bizet that they had sung at their civil partnership reception, Au fond du temple saint. It was midnight before their two guests left by cab.







Chapter Thirty-six: a quick trip to Camford 

In mid-September, Tom negotiated four days off from the lab. He had written the paper on the bioassay method, Arturo had approved it, and it had been submitted to a highly respected analytical journal. They both felt that Tom deserved a short break. Luke was so busy at work that he was glad that Tom was out of the way. Tom flew to Heathrow from Valerio Catullo-Villafranca airport, took the fast train to central London and then the train to Camford from Fennington station. 

Sandro was still at home, and Jon and David were still in Heemstede, although due back before the beginning of term in October in time for David to begin rehearsals with his new choir, the Saint Andrew's Singers, so there was no problem at Fountain Street. Tom had Sandro's room, because Cathy was now in residence, having finished her course at Oxbridge earlier that summer with an upper second-class degree. She had a job lined up with a major computer company starting in October. She would be working in London, and thus her bedroom would be free from then on. Tom found that she also had been invited to Margaret and Sarah's civil partnership ceremony. 

The ceremony took place the following day. To his delight, Tom found that he was to be one of the signatory witnesses, along with Margaret's father. Sarah's family was boycotting the ceremony. Her parents were not happy to have a homosexual daughter. The event did not involve formal or fancy dress, Tom looked perfect in his Armani suit, sartorially outdoing Margaret's father who was wearing a suit from a high-street men's outfitter. 

After the short session at the Register Office, they all moved on to the Sparrowhawk for a reception, which filled Tom with nostalgia, remembering his and Luke's happy occasion two years before. He kissed each of the girls and apologized to them for Luke's absence. There was a significantly larger female attendance than male, and Tom secretly wondered if the total Lesbian population of Camford had been invited. There were a number of chemists of both sexes present, and Tom knew several of them quite well. They greeted Tom enthusiastically and asked him how his work was going. Tom arranged to meet them in the evening for a drink. Professor Elizabeth Tomkins, the chemistry department's only female professor was there, and in a quiet moment Tom asked Sarah if the professor was a Lesbian, and was told that she was, and had been a great support to Margaret when, as a research student, Margaret had come out of the closet. Of course, not all the women there were gay, and several of them approached Tom and got into conversation with him as someone who looked as if he was unattached. He got a couple of invitations for the evening, which he turned down on the grounds of his previous engagement with the chemists. 

This proved to be a boozy but very enjoyable evening. Several of the chemistry dons were present, including both Colin Vaughan, Tom's old tutor in Buckingham and Dr Mills, who had supervised his final-year lab project. Both were glad, and rather surprised, that Tom had settled so well in Italy, and had a paper in the press. Dr Mills told Tom that his name would appear on one that he was preparing, which included most of Tom's undergraduate project results. Tom's former colleagues were rather amused when he told them that his Ph.D. supervisor was as queer as a nine-pound note. They humorously warned him to watch out for amorous advances. Margaret and Sarah called in at the pub for half an hour before leaving for their honeymoon in Wales. 

The next day Tom got up early and got on a borrowed bike to ride the short distance to the suburbs of Camford to reach the House of the Servants of the Gospel, an Anglican religious order. He was welcomed and given a card with the times of meals, the times of the divine office and the very limited times when speech was allowed. Tom had chosen to go to that house because of the fact that except for the worship, speech was not allowed. He was in fact, the only retreatant that day. He was given free choice to use the book library and the media library to choose suitable material for meditation. He chose one book only, Aelred's Spiritual Friendship and as it was a warm, sunny day, he went into the garden to read before the office of Terce. David had recommended this book to him several years before, but he had never had time to read it. After Terce, he remained in the chapel to pray. He prayed for all his friends who were entering or sealing relationships, Leonora, Ben, Margaret, Sarah, Liz and Aidan. He prayed for Sandro, asking God to guide him in his life-choices. He prayed for his extended family and particularly for Luke. He even prayed for Arturo and Bastian. After Sext and lunch, he spent the afternoon reading Aelred. 

After None and Vespers, tea was served and Tom left and went home to change prior to dining with Francis Eglantine at the Venezia after a drink with him in his college rooms. Francis's wife was away on a course. Before they left for the restaurant, Tom asked Francis to bless the cross that Luke had given him, so they went into the college chapel and Francis blessed the cross and made Tom kneel and also be blessed. Over dinner, Tom said to Francis, "Although I have only kept touch with you sporadically, Francis, I still regard you as my spiritual director. There are so few people that I am close to, I don't make friends easily, and I don't want to lose the few that I have. Even if you move away to a parish or a canonry or an academic job, I still want to come and see you." 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 06



"As a matter of fact," said Francis, "I will be leaving Camford shortly, I am going to a Readership in Patristic Theology at Oxbridge. I will have fewer pastoral responsibilities there, so I welcome you to my list of advisees. I don't think 'penitents' is an appropriate word!" 

Next day, Tom took his 'sister' Cathy out to lunch, before taking the train to London and an evening flight from Heathrow to Valerio-Catullo, from where, about midnight, he took a late train to Trabizona and about 1-30 am crept into bed beside Luke. 



TO BE CONTINUED



An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 07



Parts 1-6 of this story should be read first

Chapter Thirty-seven: Sandro begins his second year at Camford

I am not pleased with the author's portrayal of me, Sandro, during my first year as a student at Saint Boniface's College, Camford. He makes me seem a shy and naïve adolescent. So for the remainder of this story, the chapters about me will be written by me, and you will get an honest first-hand account of my life and activities, and an insight into my most intimate thoughts. The author will continue to write the rest of the story, if my uncles and brothers allow him.

I moved into my new college room early in October, two days before the beginning of term. The head porter had told me that my next-door neighbour would be a freshman. The next day I heard the new occupant of the room arrive. After allowing him time to unpack, I knocked on his door, hoping to sell my now redundant commoner's gown. The door was opened by a tall, fair-haired man who looked considerably older than eighteen, but was obviously new. "Hi," I said, "I'm your next-door neighbour. I wondered if you had already bought or been given a gown." 

"No," replied the blond-headed man, "I'm looking for one. I'll need it for the matriculation ceremony on Wednesday." 

"Scholar or Commoner? I asked. "Commoner," was the reply. 

"I've got just what you're looking for!" I said. "I've just got a second-year scholarship, and I needed a scholar's gown, which I've just bought. You can have my old gown for a fiver. It's only been worn for exams and tutorials. No-one in Engineering wears them for lectures, and first year students don't need them for dinner, so it's in pretty good nick. It should fit OK, because we seem to be a similar width across the shoulders." 

"Done!" said the new student, and produced a fiver out of his wallet. I went and fetched the gown, the newcomer tried it on, and we shook hands over the deal. The handshake was firm, but lingered noticeably longer than I expected. I eyed the newcomer carefully. I liked what I saw. The man smiled. "Could we go into dinner together?" he asked. I grinned with pleasure. Formal Hall dinners did not begin until the next day, so we were able to go in together, but before dinner, I took the newcomer into the beer cellar for a preprandial drink. The newcomer met my approval by asking for cask beer, which I paid for. I had adapted so well to traditional English beer that I hated it when I had to drink Nastro Azzurro at home! We sat down and the freshman announced his name as Dominic Overton, "But you can call me Dom!" he said. 

"My name's Sandro, short for Alessandro Mascagnoli," I replied, "I'm Italian, as you can probably guess from my accent. I'm just twenty, how old are you?" 

"I'm twenty-two. I was interviewed and offered a place three years ago, but I didn't feel ready for university, so I've been working as an IT developer for a small software company since then. I'm going to read computer science. My family felt that I should stand on my own feet and learn a bit about real life before coming up to Camford. How do you come to be here and not at an Italian university?" 

"Family reasons. My mother is English, and my brother, who was adopted, was brought up in England and my uncle, his adoptive father, is a tutor in chemistry at this college. But my brother, who got his degree at Buckingham College, now lives in Italy! We are very much an Anglo-Italian family. It's a real contrast when I go home in the vacs." 

"What are you reading?" 

"Engineering. If you don't know anyone in Camford, would you like me to show you things in the town and in the college? There's a lot of things in Camford that are better discovered sooner rather than later." 

"Thank you. That's a very kind offer, and I accept it," replied Dom.

"Are you doing anything tonight after dinner? If not, we could explore a few pubs together. It will still be light enough to point out a few landmarks, not just churches and colleges, but pubs, restaurants, bookshops, cinemas, concert halls, bus stops, and safe places to leave bikes, if you're a cyclist. There's not much point in having a car in Camford." 

"No, I guessed that would be the case. I've brought my bike with me. My father brought my things in a van. I've only been here once before, at the age of nineteen when I came for an interview. As I already had my A level results, they offered me a place at once, but I deferred it until now. I feel like the guys back in the 1950s must have felt, coming to university after having done national service." 

"Camford students actually are fairly mature for their age," I told him. "They are all academic geniuses, and some are very conceited about it. I feel independent of that, having experienced a totally different educational system. But Camford is a wonderful place. It is a bit like Venice, not just in the network of waterways, but because it has a unique beauty and fascination not to be found anywhere else. It is uniquely English, and I love it. Of course I do have an English mother, and it's nice to have a family home here for the vacations, where I can stay when we are all thrown out of college for the conference trade. If you don't want to take your bike home at Christmas, I have access to a safe place at my uncle's where you could leave it. It would probably be OK left in college, but it would not be protected from bad weather. So are you on for a walk round and a drink after dinner?" 

"Yes. It will be very useful. Thank you." As we moved into the hall to eat, we had to line up to collect our food. (Informal Hall dining was self-service). I thought about my new acquaintance and looked at him carefully. He was slightly taller than I was, and had long since lost the gangling skinniness of the under-twenties, so was fit and reasonably well built, not fat or excessively muscular, clean-shaven with hair slightly longer than usual, though not as long as my own. I guessed that he must weigh at least ten kilos more than I did. He wore loose-fitting trousers, so I could not even guess at what he had to offer below the belt. His blond hair was very attractive, and made me feel quite lustful. I still had a weakness for attractive blond men, even after my disastrous relationship with that shit Jack Meredith. I decided that I wanted to make friends with Dom, but without any intention of falling in love with him. Once bitten, twice shy. Besides, he probably wasn't gay.

When we sat down, I asked if Dom was sporty. "Not really. I've been a geek for three years, but I do swim regularly, walk and cycle a lot, but I'm not into competitive sport," he replied. 

"You should join the Camford Men's Fitness Centre," I said. "I can get you in if you can afford the subs. I go there twice a week to swim. It's less crowded than the Camford Olympic Pool, and easier to get to. There are two pools, a weights room, a squash court, a general fitness room and a bar. I sometimes go there to play squash, although the college has a squash court of its own." I had taken up squash in my first year (something that the author did not tell you), and I hoped that I might persuade Dom to try it. 

"Actually, I played squash when I was at school and used to enjoy it. It would be good to take it up again, especially if the college facilities are free." 

"Yes, they are," I told him, "and there are shower facilities available. Nothing makes you sweat like a vigorous game of squash." That was the down-to-earth, rather crude Sandro speaking, a trait I share with my brother Luca. You notice it in my speech. In contrast to the author, whose uses biomedical words like anus and euphemisms like man-juice, I say fucking, not lovemaking; shitting, not going to the toilet; arsehole, not anus; cock, not penis; and ball-bag, not scrotum. Whereas it took my brother a long time to learn those words in Italian, the widespread availability of porn in English meant that I knew all the dirty words before I was an Italian teenager of fifteen! 

"I'll get myself a racket next week and we'll have few games together," he said. "It will be nice to have a playing partner."

Chapter Thirty-eight: Dominic settles in at Boni's 

Dominic Overton was starting to enjoy Camford. He settled quickly into his routine of lectures and tutorials, and in particular, he liked the friendliness of the guy next door. It was clear from what had so far passed between them, that this lad, though he was two years younger than Dom, had actually seen more of the world. When Dominic had told his parents that he wanted to work for three years as a software developer before going up to Camford, they encouraged him, because they thought that he might learn a bit about the real world before spending three or more years in an ivory tower. But in fact, his three years as a geek had had just the opposite effect. He had had very little social life, and the lack of contact with human beings had made him shy of the real world. 

The liveliness of the boy next door had made Dom realize what he was missing. He hoped desperately that the other freshmen in his year did not turn out to be geeks. He found that in fact about 50% of the Computer Studies first year were geekish, while the rest seemed normal extrovert people. Interestingly, the geeks were almost all male. The few female CS students, about 15% of the year, were all normal people, though not especially attractive sexually, which he found somewhat disappointing. Of the other computer studies freshmen in Boni's, of which there were four, two had geekish tendencies and two seemed more extrovert. There were no women among them. They all, geeks and extroverts, used to sit together for dinner in hall, but he missed the company of Sandro during dinner. As they both had 9 am lectures most days however, they did usually have breakfast together in hall, and began to do things together in the evenings. 

Much of the first year course was mathematics, with some physics. Unlike Sandro, Dom did not spend much time in the lab. The two boys played squash together once a week. Sandro arranged for Dom to get membership of the Camford Men's Fitness Centre, a men's exercise club founded (and to a big extent funded) by Sandro's Uncle Jon about twenty years before, and they went swimming there together every Saturday afternoon, and would usually eat together in a pub or restaurant afterwards, having signed out of the cold Saturday dinner in hall. 

Sandro also introduced Dom to Italian cinema. They paid regular weekly visits to the Rialto, Camford's art-house cinema, which still maintained a precarious existence in spite of the multiplex dominance. Not all the films were Italian of course, but French and Italian films predominated. Dom fortunately did not share the British resistance to subtitled films. 

Chapter Thirty-nine: Sandro tells Dom that he is gay

The changing facilities at the Fitness Centre pool gave me the opportunity to see Dom with no clothes on. I was thus able to see and secretly admire Dom's male equipment, and I liked what I saw. Dom had a very long cock hanging in front of a compact pair of balls in a tight hairy scrotum. His pubic hair was fair like the rest of his body hair. Of course I could not stare at Dom's genitals for any length of time, as the partial erection that I got would have become much more obvious and betray my homosexuality. Fortunately, Dom was usually too involved in conversation to notice my embarrassing state, which I rapidly covered up with my swimming trunks, and if he did notice anything, he never commented, and anything he saw did not put him off swimming with me. This was just as well, as when I was in bed, I spent a lot of time thinking about Dom's cock and wanking myself off to the thought of how nice it would be to have it in my mouth. 

We played squash regularly. I was more agile than Dom, but he could hit the ball harder. After thirty or forty minutes of quite violent exercise, we would retire, dripping with sweat, to the showers, where again I had the opportunity to glance sideways at Dom's delicious-looking manhood. After showering, I would apply Storing pour homme to my crotch and armpits. Dom never commented on the fragrance, which suggested that he did not know its significance.

It became apparent to me after a week or two that Dom did not seem to have any female visitors, and only occasionally did I meet him on the staircase with one of his computer studies colleagues. One Saturday morning, when we only had one lecture each and the weather was fine, I suggested to Dom at breakfast that we went on a walk in the hills surrounding the city. The previous summer, Uncle Jon and I had found a beautiful little pub on the top of a hill, which did food, but did not get much passing trade because it was difficult to get to by car. Dom agreed with alacrity and we set off about 11 am and at 12-30 reached the Adelaide Inn, named in honour of William IV's unfortunate queen. They had three excellent draught beers and an inviting menu. Over the meal, I said to him,"Have you met any nice girls in Camford?" 

"No," he replied, "I haven't. How about you?" 

"No," I said, "but I did have a boyfriend last term, whom I was very much in love with, but he dumped me right after my summer exams." 

Surprise registered on Dom's face "So you're gay then?" 

"Yes," I said, "but I've learnt my lesson. I won't make a pass at you, so please don't stop being friends with me!" 

"Of course not, I like you too much to dump you. As a matter of fact, I'm a bit doubtful about my own sexuality. I've never been keen on girls, and had no teenage romances." 

"Well, if at any time you want to see what it's like to make love to man, you can have a go at kissing me!" 

"OK," he replied, to my total amazement. I had expected an indignant refusal. It seemed as if Dom really was uncertain of which way to swing. But this was a decision that he needed to make for himself, and would take time. I did not want to push him into a sexual relationship about which he was undecided. Besides, if we took things slowly, it would give us time to get to know one another better. A slow-developing love is often more enduring than a love-at-first-sight scenario.  My vegetable love should grow, vaster than empires and more slow wrote Marvell, and even within the constraints of Camford's short terms, there was no great hurry. I had learnt from my short and bitter experience with Jack Meredith that however much you want instant sex, frequent love sessions are no guarantee of a long-term relationship, and after my mother's experience with Mario Contadino, who had twice seduced her and abandoned her, I knew that what I wanted was something that would last for a long time. Even so, I longed to confide in someone, and in spite of his kindness and wisdom, I did not want to talk to Jon about Dom. He was too close to the scene. So I E-mailed Tom again, the quiet and helpful man-lover, who had been so useful in helping me decide my sexual identity. 

Dear Tom, 

My next-door neighbour in college has become my friend, and I have told him that I'm gay. To my surprise, he seems to accept the fact and told me that he still wants to be friends. I'm not in love with him like I was with that arsehole Jack, but it would be very easy to fall in love, we get on well together and he's quite attractive. He's even admitted that he is uncertain of his sexual orientation. I think I want a relationship with him. I've already told him that he can kiss me or hold hands at any time that he wants, to see what it's like to kiss a man. To my surprise, he did not recoil from the idea. What should I do? 

Your loving brother, 

Sandro 

Tom replied as follows:

Dear Sandro, 

Don't do anything! Just spend as much time as you can in his company and wait. It may take months, but if he's really gay, he will eventually recognize the fact. But you mustn't rush him. You must give him time to realize that he's gay. Don't ever give him an indication that you are falling in love with him, even if you are. That could still spoil your friendship, but be as nice to him non-sexually as you can. In that way you build up trust, and trust can lead to love. You may be in for a long wait. See what he's like after the Christmas vac, and whether he has missed you. If you get lots of E-mails over Christmas but no phone calls, that would be an indication that he's getting attracted to you, but is still not ready for something closer. A bad sign would be if he starts dating a girl. That is your biggest threat. Best of luck this time! I can thoroughly recommend man-man love, so I hope for your sake and his that the two of you can get together. But DO NOT rush things. Wait until he makes the first move. (I think that's what Victorian mothers used to tell their daughters!) Just enjoy his company. Your brother sends his love, as of course do I. 

Tom 

Chapter Forty: Student life in Camford

Mostly I sat with my engineering friends for dinner in Hall, and went out drinking with them on Friday nights. Eventually, though, I found that their conversation about football and women was getting boring, so I asked if I could bring Dom along to the pub. This was a bit risky, as my friends might draw the obvious but wrong conclusion that we were an item. However, engineers are not deeply interested in human relationships, and nothing was said. To them the major characteristics of manliness are a liking for beer and a capacity to hold one's liquor. Dom scored top marks in both these categories. He could drink me under the table. For that reason, most of the group preferred pubs to nightclubs. Dom's and my lack of interest in football, or indeed sport of any kind except squash and swimming, was forgiven. I, as the one with greater experience of the city, usually chose the pubs we went to and I was careful to avoid ones that were known to cater for gays. That might seem paradoxical, but I wanted to show Dom that gays were normal people, and gay pubs attract a lot of weirdos. Of course, there were a lot of gays at the Fitness Centre, but that is merely because gay men are often more health- and fitness-conscious than straight men. There's nothing less attractive than a man with a pot-belly!

Dom had weekly one-to-one tutorials with his tutor. This was exceptional among computer studies students, because tutors liked to have group tutorials to foster the students' spirit of competitiveness, and to develop their often weak interpersonal skills, but because he was older and with work experience, Dom was treated separately. We engineers also got one-to-one college tuition in our second year. This gave our tutors the opportunity to gauge our individual strengths and weaknesses, which is the secret of the success of the Camford dual teaching system. In this way, very bright teenagers were turned into even more competent specialists in their chosen field of study. To be honest, Uncle Jon told me that the Camford system would work even more successfully with less competent students, but, paradoxically, the pressure to get into the two most elite English universities effectively prevented those who would benefit most from one-to-one teaching from getting in. However, the system certainly fostered academic competitiveness, and produced spectacular results. I counted myself very lucky to be able to enjoy such an education, which was producing an all-round human being as well as an engineer out of me. I had a lot more lab and field work in my second year and a weekly load of eight lectures, so apart from the occasional lunch in the beer cellar, I spent next to no time in college between 9 am and 6 pm. Even on Saturdays, we had usually one or two lectures in the morning. 

I also used to go to concerts, both orchestral and chamber, if I had the time, in addition to time spent with Dom in the pub/beer cellar, at the Fitness Centre, on the squash court and at the Rialto. I learned rapidly how to get by on seven hours sleep a night during term time! I also learned the skill of time management, without which academic success in Camford is impossible. I still missed the regular sex that had been so good for me in the previous term, however. 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 07



A successful university education involves the acquisition of many skills. These include a healthy lifestyle (getting the right amount of food, exercise and sleep), civilized drinking of alcohol, regular doses of culture, which may include music, cinema and theatre, working hard enough to get a good degree, making friends at all levels, forming the right kind of sexual relationships and learning critical insight. Three years is barely long enough to achieve all this, and of course many students do not! 

There were no major exams in the second year, although like all Camford undergraduates, we had termly progress tests, though the only penalty for messing up a progress test was a severe reprimand by our tutor, or if the offence was repeated, by the college Dean (the college disciplinary official). Most discipline at Camford was to do with antisocial behaviour rather than lack of academic progress. In spite of the high intellectual calibre of Camford students, many of the men were not much better than their non-university contemporaries when it came to drunkenness, horseplay and hooliganism. Even some of the girl students displayed extremely unladylike behaviour. 

Chapter Forty-one: The new répétiteuse starts work

Pauline van Houtenstok began work at the Teatro Musicale on October 1. With her began a new production, one that had not been heard in Trabizona for many years, Bellini's La Sonnambula. The chorus had two weeks to learn their parts and rehearse during the day while they were singing in La Fanciulla del West in the evenings. Then the director and principals would arrive and there would be a full week of intensive rehearsals. It was clear from day 1 that Pauline was a far from laid-back professional. Indeed, the chorus used to mutter about a slave-driver. Her ambition, which of course Luke and Cornelio entirely agreed with, was to drive the standards in Trabizona higher, so that people would come from other cities to see the productions. 

With her arrival, with mutual agreement, Luke revised his working hours. It was agreed that he should work from 9-30 until noon in the mornings, then have a three-hour break before resuming work. At the same time, Tom fell into line with his Italian colleagues in the lab, and took a three-hour lunch break at the same time. This enabled the boys to get rid of their 11 pm dinner, and have lunch together on most days. At the same time, they ate lunch in restaurants more often, though at least twice per week they would go home and eat a meal prepared by Tom the night before. 

Because his father thought so highly of her, Luke felt that they ought to invite Pauline round for a meal. Tom, flushed with the success of the meal he and Costanza had cooked for Arturo and Bastian, was happy to do another. He and Costanza had various ideas that they wanted to try out. "I wondered whether we should invite Signora Bruschetti," said Tom, "We owe her hospitality, but do you think it would work, or are they incompatible?" 

"Maybe two women together would feel more secure than either of them coming alone to meet two gay men," said Luke. "And they are at least both pianists, so they may have lots of interests in common." 

Next day Luke said to Pauline, "I would like you to come and have dinner with us next Wednesday to meet my partner. We are also inviting his piano teacher, a very nice lady to whom we owe hospitality. That means that we would have to speak Italian. I hope you don't mind." 

"Thank you very much. I would love to come. I don't mind at all speaking Italian. After all, we do it all day! Did I hear that your partner's a boy?" 

"Yes, does that worry you?" 

"Not at all. Sono olandesa, non inglesa. (I'm Dutch, not English) It seems then that you take after your father as far as sexual orientation is concerned." 

"Yes, gayness seems to run in the family! My Italian cousin, currently studying in Camford, has just come out as gay as well. But unlike Dad and me, he is not very musical, he's reading engineering." 

When Tom went for his next piano lesson, he said to Signora Bruschetti, "My partner Luca and I would like you to come to dinner next Wednesday. Luca's colleague, the new répétiteuse at the Teatro Musicale will also be there."

"Grazie, Tomaso, it will be a great pleasure. It will be interesting too to see your apartment. Maybe you will play the piano for us." 

It was with some apprehension that the two boys awaited the reaction of the two women to an evening spent alone with two gay men. It was too much to hope that their social success with Ben and Leonora could possibly be repeated. However, the two women did appear to get on well together, and seemed to have a lot to talk about. The meal, which this time Tom had delegated entirely to Costanza, was a typical Italian dinner and very enjoyable.

After dinner, the ladies asked Tom to play something for them. He played a movement of a Mozart sonata. After they had applauded, both of the guests said that Tom should take some piano exams in order to measure his progress. Luke asked Pauline if she had driven or come by cab. She said that she had come by cab, so the wine was able to flow freely, which led to a very convivial evening which everyone seemed to enjoy.

Chapter Forty-two: The end of the Martinmas term

The Martinmas term went by steadily. Dom and I settled in to a comfortable routine, and made the most of the rapidly shortening daylight hours by spending most Sundays out walking, either along the numerous Camford waterways, or in the hills surrounding the city. As Christmas approached, Jon asked me if I would like to attend the Camford Bach Choir's Christmas production of Händel's Messiah with guest soloists, one of whom was David. I banged on Dom's door and asked if he would like to go as well, and the upshot was that the three of us turned up at Camford Town Hall early in December to hear and see David sing the tenor part. As usual, David gave a very polished performance. He always reckoned that he performed better when he knew that he had family in the audience. 

After the performance, knowing that my two uncles wanted to be together, Dom and I said goodbye, and we entered a pub and sat down with two pints of WLB. I had explained to Dom that David was Jon's partner, but that they were forced by the nature of David's job to undergo many periods of separation. It was interesting to see Dom's reaction to the Messiah performance. He had obviously been extremely moved, and I was a bit surprised, because I had never seen him show emotion before. I tend to assume that geekish persons have little emotion. But of course, Dom was not really geekish, he just was working in an area full of geeks! He sat there, quietly sipping his beer and saying how he had been moved to the point of being uplifted by the performance. I reached out my hand under the table, and got hold of his hand in agreement. To my surprise, he did not withdraw his hand, but squeezed it appreciatively. He no doubt thought it was a gesture of sympathy, which it was, but it was a bit more than that. I was seriously starting to fancy him. We finished our beer and slowly walked back to college. 

It was the last week of term, and we both had Progress Tests at the end of the week, after which Dom was going home, and I was staying with Jon for a week before flying home. We both performed to our tutors' satisfaction in our respective tests, and locked up our possessions before moving out of college for the conference trade. Dom and I agreed to keep in touch by E-mail over Christmas. I found that Jon wanted us to move to Rockwell's Barn for the week before I left for Christmas, and I was keen to do that as I had not yet been there. David was in Amsterdam, singing at the Musiektheater until the week before Christmas, when he had two more gigs, one of which was important as the inaugural event for the new Saint Andrew's Singers in the newly restored and refurbished collegiate church of Tokenham.

Chapter Forty-three: Christmas: Dom looks back on his first term in Camford 

As I travelled home for Christmas on the train from Camford, I reflected on my first term at university. My re-emergence into the world of people after nearly three years working in isolation had not been an easy transition. It was as if I had been on another planet and was now visiting an alien world. My old school friends, of whom only a couple had gone to Camford, had completed their courses and left the university. In Camford, no-one had welcomed me except my next-door neighbour, who was on the rebound from a failed gay love affair, and would have welcomed anything on two legs with a tool hanging between them! But Sandro was a sweet guy, and never made sexual advances. Academically, all had gone well. I got on well with the other students in my year, and my tutor gave me one-to-one tuition, because of my age and alleged experience. Socially, I felt no desire to chat up the birds or to join in student dramatic, musical, political, sporting or journalistic activities. I was a natural loner who preferred pubs to nightclubs and libraries to the theatre. 

Pressure by Sandro helped me to enjoy art-house cinema, squash and swimming, as well as ensuring that one essential aspect of the undergraduate way of life, drinking, was not neglected. His liveliness began to make me feel young again. Three years outside the teenage education system had made me feel old and continually irritated by the juvenility of most first-year students. One of my most enjoyable memories of that term was the evenings spent in either my or Sandro's room tasting a wide range of Belgian bottled beers supplied by Sandro, for whom beer had been the major lifestyle discovery on coming to England; though he said that he had had a lot of tuition in beer appreciation by his gay uncle.

I asked him if his gayness had been fostered by his uncle and his partner, but he strenuously denied it. He said that he had been strongly attracted by a gay chemistry research student, and had fallen in love with him. The guy turned out to be the type who specialized in leading boys 'astray', as some people would term it, having sex with them, and then discarding them after a few months. Sometimes when he talked about this man, he sounded, to use an operatic simile, like a cross between Cio-Cio San and Donna Elvira, a typical deceived love-victim! His bitterness to my surprise actually made me feel, not just sorry for him, but rather tender and sympathetic. I felt that it would be nice to get E-mails from him over the Christmas vac. 

Maybe I should use this opportunity to tell you more about myself. To my regret, I come from a wealthy family, and have no economic need to earn my living. But my family, as well as myself, felt that no self-respecting person would want to lead a life of idleness, so after boarding school, I worked for a few years before taking up my place at Boni's. The really wealthy person in the family is my grandfather, who to avoid tax when he reached the age of 65, gave half of his wealth to my father and another 25% to me, as the eldest grandson. My share was vested in a trust, and after I reached the age of eighteen paid me an income of several thousand pounds per month, out of which I had to pay the entire costs of residence at University (my fees were paid from an obligatory government loan). When at home, I was charged £50 per week to cover my food and contribution to household expenses. My two brothers were allowed to live at home for free, but they were under 18, with no incomes of their own, except anything they earned from part-time jobs. 

We lived in a large house in Kent, and employed a gardener and a part-time cook/cleaner. My father was a professor at Home Counties University, a twenty-minute drive from our house. My grandfather, a widower, lived in a large house on an estate in the West Yorkshire countryside. When we grandchildren visited him, we always enjoyed ourselves, but I sometimes felt guilty in coming from a family with inherited wealth and a public position, particularly as I hated politics. For that reason, I resolved when I went to Camford, to keep my family background secret. I had not even been able to get away from my background when I was working, as the family converted an empty outhouse adjoining the house into a workplace for me, with wired internet connection, so I was effectively a self-employed home worker. Make no mistake, I loved my parents and brothers, and they never attempted to govern my life when I was away from home, but it was a life far removed from that of most university students: indeed it was like that distant planet which I felt I had left when when I went to college. 

My father met me from the train and drove us home. It was nice to see my mother and father again. My brothers would be away at school for another ten days before Christmas. The day after I got home, I got an E-mail from Sandro. 

Hi Dom, 

I am now living for a week at my uncles' country house in Ixfordshire. It is my first visit there since I came to England, and I love it. My English ancestry often makes me think what I had missed by being born and living in Italy! Even though it is winter, the countryside is attractive. Although my uncles try to keep a low profile, talk in the village revealed to me that they are known and well liked because Uncle Jon pays secret subsidies to the post office, the pub and the church, that ensure that they remain in business. The farmer whose father's barn Jon bought to create the house also gets a subsidy from Jon, as well as a part-time job as forest warden for an Afforestation Trust plantation. I think that it's good that wealthy landowners should contribute to the wellbeing of the communities in which they live. Unfortunately, they have had to mothball the swimming pool in Rockwell's Barn, because the house is rarely lived in for more than a few days at a time, and running costs for the pool are high, but the house will be lived in for a month over Christmas, as David's parents are coming to stay. I almost wish that I was staying for Christmas, except that it will be much warmer at home, and I miss my parents and sister. I look forward to hearing what you are doing. 

Very best regards from Sandro  

Although he was careful to avoid the word 'love,' Sandro did not say that he was missing me, but it was implied in what he wrote. I replied saying that I had got home and was enjoying using our indoor pool and looking forward to my brothers coming home from boarding school. They were weekly boarders, so they came home most weekends, unless they were revising for exams. My grandfather was coming for Christmas, but would only stay for three or four nights, because he had his own house in London. 

Christmas was a busy time for my mother, but she loved it. Even without help in the house, she would have been a brilliant hostess, but with paid help to assist her in the hard work in the kitchen she was able to produce fantastic meals, which three generations of the family could all appreciate. My family had never been particularly religious, but it was still expected that we would attend church on Christmas Day. After church we opened our presents and sat down to an excellent Christmas dinner. After the meal, we all dispersed to do different activities. These mainly involved talking to more distant members the family on the phone. It was a fine and reasonably sunny day, so I decided to go for a walk by myself. This afforded me the opportunity to relieve myself of the high-pressure gas that had built up in my guts by a series of loud and frequent farts, without creating offence to anyone else. 

Having reached a cluster of trees a couple of miles from home, I stood under the shelter of a large tree, got out my cellphone and rang Sandro in Italy. It was nice to hear the boy's voice. He told me that the family, including his English brother and his partner, were having an afternoon walk round the city walls and how lovely and warm it was! We exchanged Christmas greetings and then hung up. As I walked further through the countryside I found myself wondering why I had so much pleasure in hearing Sandro's voice. Surely I was not developing gay tendencies? That would not please my family.

When I reached home, the Christmas festivities resumed. On Boxing Day, rather against my will, I was dragged out by the rest of the family to attend the meeting of the local hunt. This did not involve anything but standing there watching a lot of crazy men and women on horseback, but at least it was something different! My tutor had set me a couple of projects to do over the vacation, and I spent a few days doing these, but on the whole, apart from vigorous exercise in the pool and a few walks, I did not do very much. It was clear to me that I was missing the company of Camford, and especially the company of my next door neighbour. Our local market town had a specialist beer shop and it appeared to me that it would be a good idea to repay Sandro's hospitality by taking a mixed assortment of Belgian beers back to Camford. However, it was only practicable and possible to take a dozen standard 330 ml bottles with my luggage when I returned to Camford early in January. 

I moved into my room in College on the Saturday before term began on the following Monday. In the evening, Sandro rang and invited me to spend the next day at Ixton and he arranged for David, who was at home for a few days, to come and collect me at 10 am the next morning. I spent the evening getting ready for my first lectures on the Monday, and was up early on Sunday morning and waiting for David Singleton-Scarborough at the porter's lodge. He came on foot, having parked in the Fellows' car park. He was not himself entitled to use the car park, but as he was driving Jon's car with the appropriate sticker on the windscreen, no-one in the lodge ever queried it. He collected his mail and me, and by noon we arrived at Ixton just in time to go for a drink at the local pub, the Jellycotes Arms. 

The three of us lingered for some time at the pub, while Jon was cooking lunch, and walked back the short distance to the house, Sandro's natural ebullience having been enhanced by the intake of a couple of pints of excellent cask beer. He was obviously delighted to see me, and I noticed when we got back to the house that his two fathers were grinning at one another at his evident happiness. This in turn made me feel happy myself, to feel that my company should have had such an effect on another human being. In fact, it made me feel quite humble. It made me feel that Planet Camford was indeed a place worth visiting and worth spending a substantial portion of my life in. 

By the time we had finished lunch, there was perhaps an hour of daylight left, so ignoring any clearing up of the meal, we put our coats on and set off for a walk, all four of us. We naturally broke up into two parties and I tried to prevent Sandro from dragging us too far behind his two uncles. They showed me the now well-established woodland that had been the first project that Jonathan Singleton had embarked on when he founded the Afforestation Trust. At 10 pm, Jonathan, who had had much less to drink than the rest of us, drove Sandro and me back to college before parking his car and spending the night in Fountain Street. Like us, he would be back in the world of Academe the next day. 

Chapter Forty-four: December in Trabizona

The weeks in Trabizona went steadily by. Pauline van Houtenstok's chose a director for her first production called Immanuele Stoz. It was a great success. Producers from other Italian cities came to see the revival of La Sonnambula, and Cornelio and Luke felt that their appointment of her had been vindicated. There were to be two fairly new productions before the arrival of David in January, a revival of I Vespri Siciliani in November and Mozart's Don Giovanni in December. Tom's first paper on his work in Trabizona had been accepted and two further papers were in preparation. To mark the acceptance of the first paper, Tom and Luke took Ben and Leonora out to dinner at Agostino's. 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 07



Everyone was looking forward to Arturo Sescantanto's Christmas party. This year, Luke had arranged with Cornelio and Pauline to take the evening off, which meant that he could relax and drink more during the day. Leonora came all the way from her training course in Bologna, as Ben used the occasion, as Tom had the previous year, to introduce her to his colleagues. The boys knew more of the gay guests than they had done the previous year. To their amazement, Luigi and Paolo, the gay members of the opera chorus, had invited Pauline as their guest, though of course she had to leave early with them to get to the theatre. Freed from any necessity for introductions, and knowing more of both the chemists and the gays, the boys had plenty of people to talk to. At what was potentially a 16-hour party, it was an important part of the enjoyment not to drink too much, and this year the boys spent more time on the open air terrace, enjoying the mild Italian winter. There was a live pop group in one room, and dancing was encouraged. It was nice to be at a function where men dancing with men was not frowned on, not that Tom was an enthusiastic dancer. Luke actually did one dance with Leonora.

The boys left the party early, about 8 pm, and as soon as they got into their apartment, they locked the door and began to undress each other. Once naked, Tom began to kiss Luke's belly, and slowly moved his lips along his treasure trail until he reached Luke's pubic bush. He moved his lips through the black hair and began to lick Luke's balls. Luke lay back in ecstasy as Tom's mouth engulfed one ball at a time. Tom sniffed the scent of Storing pour homme and rubbed his tongue over his boy's scrotal hair. He then turned Luke over on to his back and began to kiss his delicious smooth, rounded arse. He nearly went crazy with desire. Tom's usual calm and impassive exterior concealed a young man full of passionate lust. 

After a delicious five minutes enjoying Luke's buttocks, he pulled him into a kneeling position, parted his arse-cheeks and began to rim him. "Let's do it 69!" said Luke, so Tom lay beside him on the bed, head at Luke's feet. Luke climbed over him and knelt straddling Tom's head. They then both began to devour each other's arse-cracks. After five minutes or so of rimming, they were both hard as nails and dripping pre-come, so they moved slightly and took each other's cock into their mouths and continued to enjoy one another. ...........

The holiday period was very brief, because of Luke's work commitments, which involved most days between December 27 and the New Year. The boys spent Christmas with Sandro's family, and the New Year in Locarno with Luke's Uncle Jeroen and Aunt Liesbet and Andrew and Maria. It was the first real opportunity for Tom to get to know Luke's uncle, as they had only previously met at the family festival, though of course he knew the two children from when they were learning Italian with Luke's two fathers. They were growing up fast. 

Chapter Forty-five: Sandro's second Candlemas term 

I got to Camford early, and spent the days before the beginning of term with my two uncles at Ixton. The day before term began, I invited Dom to join us for the day. It was great to see him again, and I realized how much I had missed him. I was getting to enjoy his company more and more. He was polite and friendly to my uncles, and I could see that they liked him. When he shook off the nerdishness that had engulfed him during his years on Planet Software, he had an urbane and friendly, if quiet, charm. All I needed now was for him to decide about how he felt about me, but I knew that I needed to be patient. I did not want to be thought childish or immature, an impression, I think that you, the reader, may have got from the author of this book. 

The term progressed for a couple of weeks quite smoothly until one dark Saturday evening at the end of January, Dom and I were walking away from the Rialto cinema, in a slightly insalubrious area of Camford, when we were suddenly surrounded by a bunch of teenage boys about sixteen or seventeen years old. At that moment my phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was a rather nice early iPhone model, and before I knew what was happening, I had been pushed to the ground and the phone snatched out of my hand. As I fell, I hit my head against a lamppost, incurring a bleeding cut. I remember nothing after that until I woke up hours later in a hospital bed. 

As I opened my eyes, feeling sore all over, I saw Dom sitting in a chair beside the bed. I smiled at him and without thinking about any consequences, said "Kiss me, Dom!" He stood up at once, bent over the bed, and kissed me gently. I stretched out my arms and pulled him down on top of my face and returned his kiss passionately. He gently disengaged himself from my grasp and rang for a nurse. The nurse came in and smiled to see me awake. "You've had a touch of concussion," she said, "and we need to do some tests on you. They will take a few hours, so your friend can go home and get some sleep. He sat up all night beside your bed!" I did not feel great, so I made no attempt to talk to Dom as he left. 

The hospital did cognitive tests on me to check for brain injury and then a CT scan. No problems were found. By evening, my head wound secured with butterfly clips, Dom was allowed to take me back to Fountain Street in a cab. He had agreed with the college Dean that I would be better in my uncle's care for a day or two, rather than going back to college. However he had to go back himself, but said that he would be around the next morning to see how things were. Dom had also notified my phone theft to the phone company and the police and arranged that when I was fit enough, I would report the assault. The gang had fled as soon as they saw me unconscious on the ground. Dom had also e-mailed my tutor to tell him what had happened. 

Next morning, he arrived just as Jon and I were eating breakfast. I had not slept very well, because I was desperately worried that I had blown our friendship by asking him to kiss me. He could not have failed to recognize my response to his kiss as a clear sign that I was in love with him. Jon poured Dom a cup of coffee and then tactfully withdrew to make my bed. Luckily my closed-up wound had not bled and stained the silk sheets. Dom told me what he had done about the crime, and the arrangements that he had made with the Dean. He had also talked to our bedder and told her that I would be back in a couple of days. I thanked him for everything that he had done, and said to him, "Dom, I'm sorry that I asked you to kiss me. If you don't want to have anything more to do with me, I understand. Consorting with a gay who's in love with you can't be something that you want to do. And even if you feel sorry for me, we can't go on as we did before when you know that I want more than you can give!" 

"Sandro, I've suspected for some time that you were in love with me, but this event has had a big effect on me. When you were lying there bleeding and I was phoning for an ambulance, I realized that you meant more to me than mere friendship. The thought that you might die or be severely injured seemed to tear me in two. I have truly never felt so awful, and I realized just how dear you have become to me. I'm not sure what the consequences and effects are going to be, but you have become a very important person in my life, more so than my family. Don't throw yourself into my arms just yet, though. I need a few days to come to terms with the concept that I'm either bi or gay." 

I could scarcely believe what I had just heard him say. My pulse and blood pressure suddenly shot up! "I'm not exactly in a fit state to throw myself into your arms just at the moment," I replied with a big smile, "but I'm willing to wait as long as it takes, my darling boy!" 

Chapter Forty-six: First contact

Declarations of love are not always events of romantic beauty. This one had taken place under decidedly unromantic conditions. Neither I nor Dom could speak sweet words of love under such circumstances. I did not tell my uncle what had passed between Dom and me, but I told him to expect a report by E-mail on developments within a few days.

After a day and a second night in bed, in which I slept much better, I was fit enough to return to college and to E-mail my tutor to apologize for having missed a tutorial. I went to the police station and made a statement about the assault and the robbery and bought a cheap phone as a replacement for the stolen iPhone. I used my laptop to remotely inactivate and wipe the stolen phone. I looked forward with joy and anticipation to every breakfast time in hope that Dom had decided about his sexuality. 

Things continued in this uncertainty until the next weekend, while my bruises and cuts steadily continued to heal. Dom said that we should sign out of Saturday dinner as usual, but not go swimming (which would have been in any case impossible, as my head wound was not fully healed). Instead he produced in his room a dozen bottles of different Belgian beers, and invited me to join him. But instead of opening a bottle or two, he locked the door and put his arms around me. I at once began to kiss him passionately. We opened our mouths and explored the interior of each other's mouth. I clasped myself to him tightly and began to rub my crotch against his. We sat down on the sofa, arms around one another, and began to talk in whispers. "I'm not an experienced gay," I told him. "All I did with Jack was frotting, sucking and rimming. As you went to an English boarding school, you probably know more about gay sex than I do. But I don't care about experience. Anything you want to do, I will do with you. Surely you must have sucked and been sucked off at school?" 

"Only a couple of times, actually. As I was solitary and a bit nerdish, I wasn't very attractive to other boys. I did try it with my best friend just a few times, but he was really more interested in girls, so all we did was kiss a bit and suck each other off a couple of times. We kept in touch sporadically after he went to Oxbridge, but he's now only interested in women. My family are always nagging at me to go to dances and meet eligible girls. I've never dared tell them that I have never been out with a girl since I came to Camford!" 

"I guess that's my fault! My family never bothered me about that. They got a shock when I told them I was gay, but with so many gays in the family, they soon got used to the idea. Do you want to get undressed?" 

"Why do you think I locked the door? I want to get a good look at you!" 

"And I you. I thought it was nice of you never to comment about my hard-on when we were getting undressed at the pool." 

"That comes from going to a boarding school. The lads at school were aways getting stiffies, and we never thought it worthy of comment." 

"Well, I can tell you now that I'm as hard as a rock, and we haven't even started to undress!" We each took our own shoes and socks off, and then began to undress each other. As it was the first time, it was interesting to see each other's clothing at close quarters. We removed each other's trousers and I put my arm round Dom and began to nibble his nipples. 

"Oh, that's so GOOD!" he exclaimed and I could feel the nipple stiffening between my lips. I moved my lips slowly downward, licking and kissing as I moved, and stopped at his belly button. We then took each other's underpants off, with some difficulty disentangling them from our rock-hard cocks. We then gazed carefully at each other's lower bodies. I noted Dom's big cock, standing up out of the surrounding mass of blond hair, and he gazed at my average-sized one, peeping out my black shaggy abundant pubic hair. I reached out and got hold of Dom's dick, encircled it with the fingers of my hand and began to run them up and down the shaft, which was already gleaming with pre-come. He then started doing the same to me. I think he expected me to take his cock into my mouth but instead, I made him stand up and turned him round so that I could take a good look at his arse. It was delicious, gently rounded and covered with soft blond hairs. I knelt down and began to kiss it. It was absolutely wonderful. I moved my lips around, covering each cheek in turn with licks and kisses before telling him to bend over and beginning to rim him. I felt at an advantage, as I did have some limited sexual experience, and knowing how good it is made me take the initiative in making love. 

After several minutes I pulled him back into a standing position and put my arms round him. He responded in the same way. We clasped each other in a tight embrace and began to kiss. I nearly swooned with delight as he responded so promptly to my overtures. "Towel and bedroom," I whispered to him. We entered his bedroom and he got a towel out of a drawer. The bed was unmade (the bedders did not come in at weekends, and Dom had obviously had other things to do earlier in the day). I spread the towel on the bed, made him lie on his back and spread his legs, and I began to lick his balls. His sweat smelt delicious, though it would have been improved by use of Storing pour homme. I carried on licking along the sides of his shaft and began to nibble the folds of his rolled-back foreskin. I disengaged my mouth for a moment to whisper, "You taste delicious!" and then took the head of his cock into my mouth. 

I did not attempt to deep-throat him, I concentrated on sucking and chewing the glans. A blissful smile covered his face, which told me more than words could have done that he was enjoying the blow-job. After a few minutes of my attention to his manhood, he started to breathe heavily, then he threw his head back, jerked his prick violently, and came with great violence, shooting his white blood into my welcoming mouth. I savoured it for a minute or two and then swallowed most of it, keeping a small amount on my lips to give back to him in a kiss after he had withdrawn his dick from my mouth. "Oh, Sandro, that was WONDERFUL!" he said, in a break from kissing me. 

I climbed on top of him, my stiff tool in contact with his belly, and began to rub it against the hair of his treasure trail, his face against my chest. He was learning quickly: he encircled me with both arms as I worked against his belly, and after a few minutes it was my turn to come, and my hot seed sprayed against his midriff. I relaxed and lay there for a few minutes until I could feel the jism on our bellies starting to harden. I rolled over sideways and lay on my back beside him in the narrow single bed. We lay silent for five minutes or so and then I whispered to him: "I love you, Dom. What do you think of man-man sex then?" 

"You've led me astray, you naughty boy! You are teaching me wicked perversions. You've given me a whole different insight into the manly art of wanking. You've shown me that the cock is not just for pissing and fucking, but an instrument of male pleasure. It was amazing. Can we do it again now?" 

"Actually, it's your turn to blow me! Can you manage, it, do you think? My cock may be smaller, but I have a very chewy foreskin." 

"Let's have a rest and a couple of beers, and then I'll do my best! But in the meantime, I'll just clean us up." He went into the bathroom and returned with a moist flannel and proceeded to wipe up the rapidly drying, chestnut-flower-scented seed from our legs and bellies. He then opened a bottle of Rodenbach Grand Cru and poured the contents into two glasses. We sat side-by-side, still naked, on Dom's bed and savoured the delicious beer, with its totally unique taste, our free hands caressing each other's nipples. Then Dom went into the bathroom and rinsed our glasses out. As he walked back his long cock wiggled temptingly between his legs. He then opened a bottle of Orval, a hyperbitter Trappist beer, and shared it similarly. As we drank it, Dom started running his hand down my back and poking his middle finger into my arse-cleft. I shivered in delight. He did not seem to need much training in making love. Luke had told me that man-man lovemaking IS much easier, because every man knows what gives a man pleasure. There's no need to understand female anatomy, physiology and psychology to be a successful lover of men. 

We finished the beer. We were sitting side-by-side on the sofa and Dom started to rub his hand over my chest, gently and caressingly. He then planted a soft kiss on my lips, to which I responded enthusiastically. He then reached down between my closed legs and began to finger my cock, ever so gently, and at the same time, started to nibble my left nipple. My 'rhubarb' rapidly rose to the occasion, and Dom's lips started to move slowly down the front of my body, pausing on their way to enjoy landmarks like my navel, until, passing along my treasure trail, they reached my pubic bush. Dom was not as accomplished a lovemaker as Jack had been, but there was such evident love and need in his actions that the effect was streets ahead of what I had experienced with Jack, whose technique was glib rather than loving. 

Dom moved his mouth into my groin and began to lick my balls. I opened my legs to facilitate his access, and he poked his tongue into the perineum behind my ball-bag. Unlike his own genitals, mine exuded the fragrance of Storing pour homme, so even if he didn't like the scent of my pubic area, he had the product of a master parfumier to enjoy. His lips moved to the shaft of my tool, which he began to lick and move his mouth towards the tip, where he began to nibble my foreskin. After a few minutes, I felt his mouth engulf the tip of my prick. "Keep your teeth pressed against the inside of you lips, and never bring your jaws together," I whispered, not very romantically. It was nice to feel the warm interior of his mouth, and he began to make gentle chewing movements with his jaws. He was obviously enjoying himself very much, but I could feel the tightening in my lower body that indicated that I was about to climax. I reached up with both arms round his shoulders and pulled him down on top of me as I shot my load into his mouth. "You don't have to swallow my spunk if you don't want to!" I said, "But all the phosphorus and nitrogen in the DNA are good nutrients, and there's energy in the fructose of semen!" He smiled as he savoured the taste of my fuck-juice and then swallowed it happily. I smiled at him blissfully. "That's the best blow-job that I've ever had!" I told him. "I think we are going to have good times together! I love you, Dom." 

I snuggled up against him and lay there, warm in his arms, for some of the most delicious few minutes that I have had in a lifetime. I had the man I wanted as close to me as he could possibly be and I just let the joy of human love wash over me. As far as I could see, Dom seemed to be just as happy, but I asked him how he felt. "You've shown me what a beautiful experience love can be! he said. "Planet Camford is a good place to be, but I have just experienced an extraterrestrial trip to Planet Sex, and that is an even better place to be! I love you, fag-boy! You'd better watch out, I will be up that hole of yours before very long!" I was quite taken by surprise by this speech. Now that Dom had tasted sex, it looked as though he was going to take over the captaincy of the ship! But the thought of being his sex-slave did not upset me: indeed, I thought that it might be a great experience to lie back and be rogered by this man!

Chapter Forty-seven: Exchange of E-mails III

(1) E-mail from a.mascagnoli@zzzz.camford.ac.uk to j.singleborough@zzzz.camford.ac.uk 

Dear Uncle Jon 

Good news! Dom loves me. He's finally decided about his sexuality. So we're now an item, at least as far as I am concerned. I hope that you like him. Too busy to go into details at present.




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 08



[If you get confused by all the minor characters, you can find a complete list of the characters by clicking on WittePiet, then on the Biography tab and scrolling down to the bottom of the page.]

Chapter Fifty: Two telephone conversations between Sandro and Dom 

(1) D: Hi Sandro, please can you give me your mother's E-mail address, and I will send her a letter of thanks. How is my lustful bed-mate today? 

S: Missing my stud-boy desperately. I want to spoon up beside you in bed, I want to kiss your sweet arse, I want to get hold of your tool. How is your revision going? 

D: Not too badly, better than if you were here. I would then be spending time thinking about your brown body! 

S: Dom, my father has guessed that we are an item. He even asked me which of us was doing the fucking! I told him that it was none of his business, but did admit that after we graduated I wanted a long-term relationship. 

D: What did you expect? You tell your parents that you are gay, and then you bring a male friend home. It's not rocket science to put two and two together, especially when we are put in the same room! It's interesting though that they can't guess which of us is fucking the other, particularly in view of the fact that we've not yet gone anal. I still feel strongly that we should concentrate on getting to know each other and understand each other's bodies before we pop our respective cherries up the chocolate boulevard. 

S: I agree. Kissing you and sleeping with you are what I long for most and miss when you are away. We must make sure that we get a duplex college room next year. Then if we get desperate in the night, we can creep into each other's bed. Do you have any plans to come out to your family yet?

D: No. It's all very complicated, and I want them to meet you before I tell them that we are an item. It will have to wait till after my exams. That doesn't mean that I'm ashamed of you, or of our relationship. I'm proud that we belong to one another. I want you in my arms right now! I want your sweet tongue in my mouth, I want to run my hands over your delicious arse! I've got a photo of you beside my bed (in a drawer) and when I miss you I take it out and as you can guess, I wank myself off. 

S: Snap! I do just the same! Dom, its nearly time for dinner. I'll see you in two weeks time. Best of luck with the revision. I'm dying for a suck! I want to bury my face in your sweet blond hair! I'll send you that E-mail address. Ciao, carissimo amico mio!

D: Ciao, caro Sandro mio! One day, I must start to learn Italian. 



(2) D: Sandro, this is just to tell you that Jon has invited me to spend the last week of the Easter vac. in Fountain Street for a nominal rent. The invitation came out of the blue. Jon says that he is so used to having young people in the house and is lonely now that Cathy is working in London. He promises me that he will not disturb me during the day, but let me get on with revision, and he will do his charitable admin. from his college room. Then we can eat together in the evening. He's missing your uncle, currently in Bristol, but coming back to Camford a couple of nights per week. I think that he is very generous to me, considering how little we have seen of one another. Maybe he wants to get to know me better. 

S: That's good, Dom. I think he does want to get to know you. He mentioned it to me when he rang me to find out your phone number! Because I'm his son's brother, he considers himself in loco parentis. I'll come back a couple of days early, and we can have two nights in bed together before moving back into college! I want your cock in my mouth! I think that my father also really needs to get to know you better. I think it was totally off limits for him to ask me which of us was doing the fucking, and even though I love him very much, I told him to mind his own business! But in spite of my absence for a two-month placement, you'll have to come here for longer in the summer and get yourself recognized as my lover. 

D:Yes, but I want you to come and meet my family too! I've got two brothers who should meet you as well as my parents. I don't want to have to wait till Christmas, so we must try and fit in a week in September. Where is your placement going to be? 

S: At the Rail-UK offices in London. My uncle has said that I can live in their London flat, so I won't have to find somewhere to live. Maybe I could come to your home, wherever it is, directly after I finish in London.





Chapter Fifty-one: Jon makes a discovery

Jonathan Singleton-Scarborough got off the train from Camford at Fennington Station in London and took the underground to the office of Tim Ingledown, his legal and financial adviser, and close friend. They had arranged to have lunch together in a nearby pub. Jon wanted to discuss the affairs of the Edmund Heptinstall Educational Trust, and to have a quick update on the state of his own finances. The Trust had awarded a record number of scholarships that year, and they wondered whether the charity needed a further cash injection. Bernard Silverdale, Tom's former teacher, the Executive Secretary for the last few years, had done an excellent job. He and his wife were now well settled in Camford, having with some delay finally sold their house in Tom's home town. With the forthcoming departure of Liz for Newcastle-on-Tyne, Tom would now have no reason to visit his unhappy birthplace ever again unless anything happened to his father.

Jon happened to mention to Tim that his nephew's boyfriend was staying in the flat in Fountain Street for the week before term to use the Science Library, and remarked what a nice lad Dominic Overton was. The reply was remarkable. "As you know, I am extremely discrete about my clients' financial affairs," said Tim, "But I see no harm in mentioning that I know him, because his family have been clients for years, and he is the heir. Without me being indiscrete, try looking his grandfather up in Who's Who? under 'Wakefield'." 

Jon did not like London, and out of hatred of publicity, had no social life there. The only 'social life' he had had there in the last few years was a few visits with David to the opera or a concert or recital, and when as David's partner, he had seen him receive his CBE. However, he still maintained membership of a London club, and after he had left Tim, he walked to the club and went in to use the library. He took down the latest issue of Who's Who?. Under 'Wakefield' he read:Henry Thomas Francis Overton, 12th Marquess of W, b. 1936. Ed. Eton and Bonif Col, Oxf. Nat Service, Roy Guard, 1954-61, Pres, Country Landowners' Union, 1964-85, member Hse of Lds 1962-1999, Patr, Roy Soc for Preserv Countryside, GCB 2001. Heir, Edmund Richard Overton, E. of Batley, b. 1960. This startled Jon. He moved along the library shelves and found the Peerage, and looked up 'Wakefield.' Sure enough, the Earl of Batley's eldest son was Dominic Francis Overton, Viscount Overton, born 1985. His lodger was the grandson of a nobleman. He decided to say nothing to either of the two lads. No doubt Dom would reveal his identity in due course. It seemed to Jon that there were going to be difficulties if Dom came out to his family. Peers (noblemen) expect their sons to marry and have offspring to pass on the title. It cannot be inherited by a daughter. Adoption and illegitimacy do not allow inheritance of a title of honour. This would be a big test for Dom if he wanted to become Sandro's civil partner. 

When Sandro got back, three days before the beginning of the Pentecost term, he took a cab from Camford station to the flat in Fountain Street. David was in Bristol, and Jon in college. Dom welcomed him and showed him their bathroom, in which there was a tube of lube and a packet of condoms. "Still too early to use those," said Sandro, "but we'll take the lube when we go. I've got plenty of unused condoms. It seems funny that when I came to Camford, I thought I might need them with a woman rather than a man!" It was about 4 pm, and Dom announced that he was done with revising for the day. 

"Your uncle will get back about 5," he said, "and we'll then go for a drink and something to eat. So there's time for a suck session!" They undressed hastily, and Dom put his arms round his slender friend and started to kiss Sandro's chest. "Three weeks without you is about as much as I can stand!" he said. "I need that cock of yours in my mouth. I want to eat you up, beginning at your cock-head, until you are entirely inside me. Sandro mio, ti adoro!" 



Chapter Fifty-two: The Pentecost term and afterwards

I was amused and delighted at Dom speaking to me in Italian. It was highly significant, because it was clear testimony of his love. I was quite relieved. It meant that he was really heading for commitment, and not just a fling. Clearly he had rapidly developed a taste for sex! We went into the bedroom and hastily undressed. He pushed me onto the bed, made me lie on my back and knelt over me straddling my chest so that his rapidly stiffening cock was within reach of my mouth. I opened my mouth and started to lick the head of his cock. I opened it wider and took the head into my mouth and started to suck it and run my tongue over its sides. Dom groaned with delight. "You dirty slut!" he said, "you crotch-obsessed genital-sucker! You spunk-eater! Who taught you how to give me such pleasure? I ought to turn you onto your belly and give your arse a good hard spanking! But it is such a sweet and delicious arse. I just want to kiss it, lick it, caress it and cover it with love bites!"

"Do that, then!" I said, taking his dick out of my mouth, and turning over beneath him. Dom started work on my rear-end. I wriggled with delight as he nibbled the cheeks and gently bit into the flesh of my arse muscles. All this attention to the lower half of my body caused my cock to stiffen and within half a minute it was rock-hard. I couldn't believe that this English boy, who up to a few weeks before had not known that he was gay, knew how to give such amazing pleasure. I suppose that really gayness does not come into it. A woman would have appreciated the same sort of attentions as my posterior was receiving! My new boyfriend was a genius lovemaker! Gradually, Dom moved his lips upward into the small of my back along my spine till he ended up between my shoulder-blades. 

He then turned me over and turned himself to face my feet so that he could take my rock-hard dick into his mouth. His own dick hung temptingly near my mouth, which I opened and wrapped my lips round the long object. I could feel it stiffening as I ran my tongue along its length. In this classic 69 position we settled down to exercise our cocks, and managed ten minutes of oral intimacy before first Dom and then myself climaxed with a shuddering jerk and filled each other's mouth with man-fluid, which we each eagerly swallowed, united in one of the deepest ways that two men can come together.

After two delicious nights of sleeping together, we moved back into college and the term got into its stride. Neither of us had much leisure, but what free time we had was often spent in a punt on the river Camwell. We also went swimming regularly, and played squash once per week, but our trips to the Rialto virtually ceased. 

As the end of term approached, our spare time got less and less, even though I had no major exams. But I had an industrial placement approaching, lasting for the whole of July and August. We spent one or two blissful evenings doing a typical Camford summer term-time activity: watching a play in a college garden. These plays were often obscure plays of Shakespeare or his contemporaries. A small sensation took place that particular summer, when one college society tried to put on Rochester's Sodom. This was overruled by the University authorities, not on the grounds of obscenity, but because it would bring the University into disrepute. 

Early in June on the Sunday nearest to June 5, Saint Boniface's Day, the college had its annual Feast to commemorate its patron saint. Special food was served at both sittings of dinner and every member of the college got a free glass of wine or fruit-juice. It was generally treated as a pre-exams drinking occasion, and the beer cellar stayed open after dinner, which was not usually the case. Dom and I got extra teasing because we were sitting together.

I was due to leave Camford immediately after the end of term and my college progress test. I packed a suitcase with essentials, Jon gave me the key and I set off to find the London flat, which was near Fennington Station, next door to which were the offices where I would be based for my placement, though there would be a lot of travel with a railway engineer to various locations in the south of England. 

Dom did not start his exams until the Monday after the end of term and was allowed to stay in college for the duration of the exam period. After that, he would go home till his exam results were known (at the end of July), and then return briefly to Camford to see his tutor. 

I enjoyed my work placement. The first two weeks, I accompanied an engineer to inspect various locations where work was needed to be done, both to the track and the trackside structures. Thereafter, I travelled to sites where work was in progress. This was almost always at night and at weekends, so my days off were during the week. In some ways it was clear that I would have a lonely job if I joined Rail-UK. I spent my spare time visiting various places of interest in London, and keeping away from pubs and night-clubs. I ate fairly frequently in my uncle's favourite Italian restaurant, Alberto's, where I could speak my native language, and where a special single-seater table was kept available for me in a corner. The remaining time I subsisted on takeaways or microwave-ready food from a supermarket. Much of Monday was spent asleep in bed after two nights of work over the weekend. At the beginning of August, I got a phone call from my darling Dom telling me that he had passed his exams well and been awarded a scholarship by the college. I said that when we met in September, I would take him out for a celebration meal, pointing out that his Commoner's gown would have to be put on the market! 





Chapter Fifty-three: Professor Sescantanto's summer party 

On a hot July day, the Trabizona University chemistry department, and the Trabizona gay community gathered for Professor Sescantanto's summer party. It was a very different affair from the pre-Christmas party. The cypress trees that lined the path from the house to the huge garden behind the villa were glowing with summer green. The swimming pool had been thoroughly scoured and the water filters replaced, and the pool looked an inviting blue. Chairs and sun-loungers in abundance were lined up beside the pool, and a bar, provided by a professional bar-hire company, was dispensing drinks. To get food, the guests had to go inside the house via a magnificent terrace that ran the whole width of the back of the house. 

Dress of course was extremely informal, but a minimum dress code of shirt and shorts was insisted on for all guests, except of course when they were in the pool. In previous years, some younger gay guests had tried to go round without shirts, but Arturo was anxious not to upset any of his non-gay guests, and would personally speak to any guest without a shirt, asking him to put his shirt on or leave! 

The opera season was almost over, and so Luke was able to take a day off as there was no performance that day. He and Tom invited Pauline to join them, and at her request the visiting tenor Mario Lavini came as Luke's guest. The current opera production was the last of the season and everyone was in a festive mood. Lavini was about thirty, and a superb singer. Tom rated him as his second favourite after Luke's father, and the Teatro Musicale was very lucky to get him to play the role of Oronte in I Lombardi. It was mainly thanks to Pauline that he had fitted Trabizona into his schedule, she had worked with him before. However, she did not seem to know anything about his personal life. No sooner had he arrived at the party than he rushed off and started chatting up several of the more attractive gay guests, much to the amusement of Tom and Luke! "Pauline, you may have seen the last of Mario for the rest of the day. I'm afraid that you'll have to put up with our company!" said Tom. 

"Well," she replied, "maybe two gays are better than one." At this, Tom and Luke burst out laughing. 

"Didn't you know that he batted for our side?" asked Luke. 

"Honestly, no," she replied with a grin. 

"Arturo will be delighted," said Tom. 

"I'll bet he knew already," said Luke. 

"We are slightly outside the Italian gay world, because we're foreigners." said Tom. "So Arturo didn't know when I came here that I was gay, he just thought of me as an EU Leonardo grantholder." 

"What about the saying that It takes one to know one? asked Luke. 

"That all depends on how good your gaydar is!" said Tom. "Mine is quite useless. I had no idea that Arturo was gay until Ben told me. Let's go and find Leonora and Ben and get something to eat." So the three of them set off to look for Tom's colleague. "How are you finding life in Italy?" Tom asked Pauline. 

"Fantastic!" she replied, "I'm so glad I came here. The food really suits me. The Belgians were so limited in their outlook. In contrast, Italy knows that it is the cultural centre of the world, and you just have to sit back and enjoy it." 

When they found Ben and Leonora talking to a colleague from the chemistry lab, Leonora's face lit up. She ran to Tom and Luke and kissed them both. Tom responded by putting his arm round Leonora, while Luke merely blushed. Pauline looked with interest at Leonora. Luke had told her about how his former 'fag-hag' had an opera obsession.

In the afternoon, just as the effects of alcohol on those present were beginning to become evident, a loud noise was heard from the garden. Tom and Ben hurried outside to investigate. At the end of the garden farthest from the house, a crowd of people was gathered, shouting and gesticulating. It turned out that Mario Lavini had been showing excessive interest in one of the men present and the man's partner had hit him, and a fist fight had ensued. Mario was bleeding from a cut forehead and was already developing a black eye. As Tom and Ben approached, the aggrieved partner hit Mario again and knocked him down. As he fell, he hit his head on a rock. He was unconscious. An ambulance was summoned and Mario was carted off to hospital, just as the police arrived. They arrested the assailant, and he was carted off to the police station. When Luke heard the news, he was very concerned, because it was his guest who had been assaulted, and he and Pauline went to the hospital after advising Tom to go home with Ben and Leonora. 

The tenor turned out not to have been badly injured, but the hospital was keeping him in for a CT scan, and he would not be able to sing for three days. Cornelio was fed up. "We will have to cancel two performances and refund the patrons' ticket money!" he said. "There's no other tenor in the world who has that role in his repertory." 

Ben, Leonora and Tom went to talk to Arturo. He was also fed up. "That guy has given my parties a bad reputation!" he said. "It just confirms the prejudice that gays are aggressive men, not afraid of a spot of violence to get what they want." 

"The guy who hit Lavini has my sympathy," said Tom. "If anyone tried to chat up Luca in a predatory manner, I would have reacted in just the same way!" he added. "Greek history is full of stories of the bravery and ferocity of gay men defending their lovers. That was the secret of the Spartan army's military success! In fact when we were undergraduates, I threatened an Italian guy who was pestering Luca. I didn't actually hit him, but I would have done if he had continued making a nuisance of himself. Luca was furious with me, he said that I must never go round threatening people. And now that we are partners, I never would do it, because I am confident of his love. A lot of male violence stems from jealousy and insecurity." 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 08



"Would you like to meet him?" asked Arturo, "I know him quite well. He's an administrative assistant in the academic office , the very last sort of man you would think would engage in fisticuffs! I could invite him and his friend, the boy that they came to blows over, to come to dinner next time you and Luca come. I believe he's quite musical. I went out with him a few times when I was fancy-free. I never realized that he could get violent!"

"It's probably a sign that he's deeply in love," said Tom. "I shouldn't worry about it, unless the police or Lavini try to take him to court for assault. I would hope that Lavini is not a person to bear grudges, because he is at least 50% responsible for what happened. Any Italian man whose girl had been approached by a stranger would react in the same way, and would get a lot of public sympathy. But it would be interesting to meet him in a non-challenging situation, such as your dining room!" 

"Right, I'll see what I can do," said the Professor. 

Tom went back into the town with Ben and Leonora, Luke joined them on his return from the hospital,and they all went out to a trattoria to eat. Somehow, none of them wanted to rejoin the party at the villa.





Chapter Fifty-four: Sandro visits Dom's home

When my placement finished at the end of August, my boss said that he was impressed by my progress, and that there might be a job for me as a graduate trainee after I had graduated, and that in any case, I could use him as a referee. I phoned Dom and asked if I could come to his home the following day. He said that he would ring me back. He did so, and told me that I should get a train from Victoria the following day to Paradise Bridge in Kent and if I phoned him from the train, he would come and meet me.  

I got out of the train to find Dom waiting on the platform. We embraced briefly, without kissing, as it was a public place and we had not come out. The car journey to Paradise Place, as Don's house was called, only took about ten minutes. I was introduced to Don's mother and, fortunately as it turned out, did not have the opportunity to speak to her by name. It would have been embarrassing, as I subsequently realized, if I had called her Mrs Overton. Dom showed me to my room. It was a big house, so there was no question of me sharing a room with Dom, to my great disappointment! 

"Get changed into something more casual, and bring your cozzie and we'll take a turn in the pool," he said. I did as I was told, and we walked to a large converted barn across the spacious back yard which held a fifteen-metre indoor pool with a bar. Outside the pool building, facing open countryside, was a sun terrace and after we had each swum about twenty lengths, Dom poured us large glasses of Campari-orange, and we sat on the terrace and enjoyed the September sun. "When my father gets home, he'll probably come over here for a turn in the pool, so you can meet him before dinner. He's a professor at Home Counties University in Swanbridge. Then at dinner-time, you will meet my two brothers, Michael and Richard. Michael is eighteen and will be starting at Oxbridge in October. Richard is sixteen and has just finished his GCSE." 

Dom's father was a handsome, slim and fit man in his late forties, and the family resemblance to Dom was quite striking. He smiled and shook hands with me before diving into the pool. Again, I had no cause to address him by name, so there were no embarrassing moments. Half an hour later, wrapped in a towel, he joined us on the terrace with a glass in his hand. "Dom tells me that you are in your second year, Sandro," he said. "What are you reading?" 

"Engineering, sir," I replied. 

"That's a good manly subject!" he replied. Why had he said that? I wondered. Did he have suspicions about my relationship with Dom? What would he have said if I had said I was reading fine art? He next asked me why I had come to Camford instead of studying in Italy. I explained as I had to Dom the previous October that my mother was English and that my uncle her brother was an international artist, who among other languages, could speak fluent Italian because of his work as a singer. "What's his name?" I was asked. 

"David Singleton-Scarborough," I replied. 

"Oh yes, the gay tenor! I'm a great admirer of his singing," he said. "I know his financial adviser Tim Ingledown very well, as I am another of his clients. Tim is normally very discrete about his clients, but he just happened to mention your uncle's name to me once. Tim also acts for his partner as well." 

"Yes, my uncle Jonathan. He's the one with the really big money. I stay at their flat in Camford if I'm there out of term, and Dom is welcome to stay there too at any time, if he wants. It's such a nuisance that the college throws all its undergraduates out as soon as term ends to make way for the conference trade. Uncle Jon is first-year chemistry tutor at Boni's, which is why their son went to Buckingham College, and their daughter to Oxbridge. Their son is working in Italy at the moment. We are all one big Anglo-Italian family. I'm looking to get a job in England. I want to live here long enough to get rid of my Italian accent!" 

"It's only the accent that gives your nationality away. Your spoken English is better than what many natives speak!" 

"I can thank my uncle Jon for that. He spent three months teaching me colloquial English and enlarging my vocabulary. What is your academic discipline, sir?" 

"I'm a professor of European languages, which means that I have to cover every West European language except Welsh, Irish, Gaelic, Breton and Basque! In practice, most of our students are in French, German, Spanish and Italian. Basically our approach in a small department is to teach the techniques of learning a language, and to leave the students to get on and learn vocabulary, literature and grammar by audiovisual techniques. It's a demanding way of learning, and we don't have lot of students! One of our objectives is to promote minority languages like Romansch, Catalan and Friesian." 

"My uncle's son Luke read French and Italian at Camford, and his Italian is about as good as my English. He had to get competent, because he wanted to work in Italy." The three of us went back into the pool and swam ten lengths together before getting dressed for dinner. 

At dinner I met Dom's two brothers. They were not blond like Dom and his father. I felt them scrutinizing me minutely, and I thought that with their public school background, they would soon guess that Dom and I were an item. The evenings were still fairly light, and the four of us after dinner walked down to the village pub for a drink. His brothers knew that Dom was not interested in football, so the conversation got on to the other universal male topic of women. Things soon got sticky. Both the boys were going out with young ladies, though whether they had any interest in marriage was not apparent. 

When neither Dom nor I volunteered any information about girlfriends, they asked Dom directly if he was going out with anyone. This would have been an ideal opportunity for Dom to come out to his brothers and say that he was going out with me, but he flunked it and made a feeble excuse that he was too busy with his studies. Fortunately for Dom, they did not ask me the same question, because I would have made an honest answer! But I knew that before the week was over, there was a serious risk that Dom's secret would be out. It only required us to be caught kissing or holding hands, and he would have to confess! But I liked both Dom's brothers. Despite their English public school background, they were not snobbish or stuck up. 

"What's the food like here?" I asked. 

"Very good," Dom answered. 

"In that case you and I must come here one night to eat at my expense to celebrate your scholarship. Your brother is in the top 5% of students in St Boniface College!" I said to Michael and Richard. "They don't give away scholarships like sweeties! He's done very well." 

"Hark to the pot calling the kettle black! You're a scholar as well!" Dom said, and gazed at me with a telltale look of affection. I noticed that Michael and Richard exchanged glances. I thought that Richard was very mature for his age, and seemed to have a sense of gaydar. I wondered how long this charade would last. I hoped that if Dom was set on deceiving his family, the deceit would at least last until I had gone home to Italy! 



Chapter Fifty-five: Revelations 

Next morning, Dom and I arranged to go for a walk to a local beauty spot. While I was waiting for him in the hall, the post arrived. Helpfully, I picked up the pile of mail and put it on the table. As I did so I caught a glimpse of the address on one of the envelopes. The addressee was Professor Edmund Batley at Paradise Place. We set out on our walk. 

The Kent countryside was beautiful. The trees were just starting to change the colour of their leaves, and the woods were yellow and brown as well as green. After about an hour in the woods, Dom stopped. He threw his arms round me and began to kiss me violently, and to caress the seat of my jeans. "I love you Sandro! Why have I got myself into a maze of deception? I'm sure my brothers have guessed that we are an item." 

"Why don't you tell them then? You had a good chance that night at the pub. Or do want to tell your parents first?" 

"I don't know. It's all such a mess!" 

"Dom, I picked up the post in the hall this morning to put it on the table. Why is your father called Batley, when your name is Overton?" 

"That's the secret I said I would tell you about. We both have the surname Overton, but he is Earl of Batley and I am Viscount Overton." 

"Does that mean that you are noblemen?" 

"It means that the family is noble, but only my grandfather is a nobleman or peer. The rest of us are just commoners, but as heir my father has what's called a courtesy title, and I as the next in line have a courtesy title too. But I don't want to use it in Camford, and as far as the college is concerned, I'm just Dominic Overton, which is the way I sign my name. Similarly my father is known by his signature as Edmund Batley. If you ever have to speak to my mother by name, call her Lady Batley." 

"Do your brothers have titles then?" 

"They are called the Hon. Michael and the Hon. Richard Overton, a bit like American congressmen. But it doesn't affect how you speak to them. And in any case, most people in England don't understand titles. If we ever become civil partners, you won't get a title, whereas if I married a woman she would be first called Viscountess, then when my grandfather snuffs it, she would become Countess of Batley, and after the death of my father she would become Marchioness of Wakefield, and my brothers would become Lord Michael and Lord Richard Overton. All this business of inheritance is the reason that there may be problems about us coming together as civil partners. There's no provision for gays in the traditional system." 

"But couldn't we adopt or have a surrogate baby?" 

"No good! The heir must be a boy, born in wedlock, not adopted. Nobility is all about getting a male heir. There's no power left, now that most of them have been chucked out of the House of Lords, so their resources are concentrated in keeping what they have still in the family. Personally, I don't mind. Michael or his son will inherit the title after I snuff it, which is OK by me, and as far as I am concerned, he can have the money. I can earn my own living. I don't want to run the family estate, I just want to live quietly and comfortably with you! I certainly don't want to be obliged to marry a woman just to provide an heir to the title. My brother can do that!" 

"Dom, at some stage you will have to put your cards on the table and tell your parents. If there is a row, your love for me will be tested. If you are made to give me up, I won't mind as long as you tell me honestly!" 

"Sandro, you're lying when you say that you wouldn't mind. You got me into this mess, and I love you too much to walk away from it. But what I want to do will look as if I'm setting my face against years of history and tradition. There have been gay ancestors in the family before, but most of them married and begot an heir. I refuse to do that!"

"I don't think that your parents or your brothers will say anything to you when I am here. So as soon as I have left, you must decide what to do. If you decide that you don't yet want to come out, even to them, that's fine by me. We will just continue as we have been doing, but we will have a duplex college room with a shared en-suite bathroom next year, so we will see more of one another and have much more opportunities to be intimate. If you do decide to come out you must tell your parents first. But it's much more likely that it will be your brothers who ask you, so it's up to you to have a good story ready. You can't avoid the risk that if you admit anything to your brothers, they might tell your parents, who would be enormously upset that you hadn't told them first. It might be better if you spent less time at home during the vacations. You can always come and stay with me in Fountain Street, or even at my uncles' place at Ixton. As long as you can pay my uncles some rent, you will be welcome to stay as long as you like. And your parents won't cut your money off at once. It's more likely that they might try to buy me off. But you can be sure that I don't want Overton money! I want you!" 

We decided that there was little point in discussing the matter further. As it was a warm day and was now lunch time, we settled down under a tree to eat the sandwiches we had brought with us and indulge in some heavy petting. I promised Dom that I would tell nobody about his identity, not even my parents

When we got back home that night, I said to Dom, "Shall I ask your mother if we can go out tonight for a meal at the pub? Just the two us?" 

"OK," he said. So I asked Lady Batley if it was OK for us to miss dinner, as I wanted to take Dom out for a celebratory meal to mark his scholarship. 

"I'm glad that Dom is making friends in Camford," she said. "He was getting more and more solitary, at one stage I was wondering whether he might be developing mild autism. But he's been a lot better since he went up. It was noticeable as early as Christmas." 

"A lot of the men in his year in computer studies are very geekish," I said, "but I have always found him very friendly and open. And intellectually, he's in the top 5% that got college scholarships, so there's no need for you to worry about him. We're getting a duplex set of rooms with a shared sitting room next term, so I'll be able to keep an eye on him." 

"Thank you, I would be grateful if you could!" 

"It's no trouble, because I'm very fond of him," I said, hoping that not too much would be made of the comment! "I owe him a lot. He got me to hospital quickly after I was concussed during a street robbery in which my iPhone was stolen, and he sat with me when I lay unconscious overnight. I don't know whether he told you that!"

We had a wonderful evening at the pub. Dom had shaken off the gloom about his family's possible reaction. We had a large mixed grill each and a bottle of wine. The pub actually had Italian wine. With the drinks before, and a glass of sweet wine with the dessert, we were pretty fuddled as we stumbled the short distance back to Paradise Place, hand in hand, pausing every few yards in the dark for a kiss and a grope! It was midnight before we got back and Dom said to me, "Sleep with me tonight. I want you near me!" So I did as he asked, and fell asleep spooned up to him, the sweet warmth of my aristocratic boyfriend's body warming me. As I dozed off, I remembered the words of Uncle David's gay anthem Hug you close and keep you warm.

Next morning, Dom said to me, "Are you in a rush to get back home?" 

"No, I said, "I'm going by train and I haven't got any tickets yet." 

"In that case, I'll come with you as far as London. I want to go up North for a quick visit to my grandfather." 

"Let's go to London on Friday then, spend the weekend together at the flat, and both leave on Monday from St Pancras International, me for Lille, you for Sheffield!" 

We had a glorious weekend together. We went to the opera at Covent Garden on Saturday night, and spent most of Sunday in bed before going out to dinner at my uncles' favourite Italian restaurant, where I introduced Dom to Alberto the proprietor as my boyfriend. Alberto was gay. He had inherited the restaurant on the death of his father a few years before. Dom told me that he was going to see his grandfather and discuss the difficult matter of him coming out as gay. "My grandfather will be more understanding than my father about my desire to pass the estate and most of the money to Michael. It's important, because it will affect Michael's career choice after graduation, for example he might want to do a diploma in estate management. If I can get the Marquess on my side, I'm sure my parents and Michael won't object to us becoming partners. I want to resolve the issue before term begins in three weeks time, if I can." 

"Shouldn't you talk to your parents first?" 

"Not if I can get my grandfather on my side. I'll ask him not to get in touch with Dad until I've got back home and talked to him myself. It's my experience that grandparents are always on the side of the young against their parents." In this, I think that Dom was right. My Scarborough grandparents were always sympathetic to me. As for my Mascagnoli grandparents, I had not seen them since I came out to my parents. 

We parted company on the Monday, and after about 15 hours or so of rail travel, I reached home for the first time in four months. 



Chapter Fifty-six: the Marquess of Wakefield

Three days later, there was a phone call from Dom. He said, "Sandro, please can you come back to England a few days before the beginning of term? I need you to come to Yorkshire with me to meet my grandfather! If you're flying, take the train into London from the airport and leave all but essential overnight baggage in the left luggage store at Saint Pancras station. I'll meet you there and we'll take the train to Sheffield." 

I made arrangements to fly to London-Gatwick five days before term began, and when the day arrived, Dom met me at Saint Pancras as arranged. From Sheffield we took a stopping train into the heart of the Yorkshire countryside and got out at a small country station, where we were met by a car driven by Dom's grandfather's chauffeur, Robert, who drove us to Getheringthwaite Hall. 

Dom had told me in the train from London what was happening. It seems that when he had visited the Marquess, the old man, instead of exploding in anger when Dom had told him that he was gay, was delighted. He told an amazed Dom that he himself had really been gay all his life, but had been forced by his father into marrying and having one child, Dom's father. However, since his wife had died a few years ago, his grandfather had been sleeping secretly but regularly with Robert his chauffeur. Apparently they did not share a bed every night, but just when either of them felt a need, but the need was quite frequent! Robert knew that he would not be a beneficiary of the Marquess's will, but he was paid a generous salary, and a house and very generous pension awaited him on my father's death or on Robert's retirement, whichever happened soonest. 

The old man had said that he wanted to see me to establish whether I met with his approval, which seemed to be based on my physical appearance and general demeanour. If they were to his satisfaction, he would tell Lord Batley that the estate and most of the money was to be transferred to Michael instead of Dom when their father died. There was no doubt that Michael would be happy with this arrangement, as he loved country pursuits. Dom would have the title, and a small house on the estate, but would be expected to earn his own living. However, that whole business was well ahead in the future. The Marquess was amazingly fit for his age, he swam daily in a heated indoor pool, he played golf twice a week, he made regular trips to the opera in London and he got lots of exercise from his antics with Robert in bed! 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 08



In the car, I scrutinized Robert as closely as I could. He was in his early sixties, slim, fit, clean-shaven, with white but thick crew-cut hair, friendly and chatty. While he didn't appeal to me sexually, I could see his attractiveness to older men. Needless to say, like all gays, I could see that he was also appraising me. Dom noticed his scrutiny and grinned at me! We arrived at Getheringthwaite Hall in the early afternoon. It was not a large building. It dated from the late seventeenth century, with two additional wings added a few years later in the reign of Queen Anne. It stood in a very large park, some 5 km across,of which about two-thirds was open to the public. 

Dom's grandfather was tall, and as I have already said, fit and vigorous for his age. He welcomed us warmly and said to Robert, "Robert, I've arranged with Mrs Harrison to do the cooking tonight, but please stick around the house, because we will all four be eating together." Mrs Harrison cooked most days, but on two days a week Robert did the cooking. 

The three of us adjourned to the library, where the Marquess offered us drinks, nodding in approval when we chose beer. "I've only got White Shield, I hope you like it!" he said. 

"Very much!" said Dom, "It's a lovely beer, even if it does make you let stinky farts the next day." 

The old man grinned. Then he turned to me. "So you're the boy that my grandson's in love with! Tell me a bit about yourself." 

"I have an Italian father and an English mother," I told him. "I also have a brother who was adopted by my uncle. Both my uncle and my brother are gay, so we are a very homosexual family! I didn't know my brother until at the age of eighteen he came looking for his mother. I lived in Italy until I decided to come to England and read engineering at Camford. In my second year I met Dom, who had the room next door to me and I fell in love with him. I hope to become a railway engineer. But I also want a life-partnership with your grandson." 

"You boys don't know how lucky you are to be able not just to fuck legally, but to enter a state-recognized partnership with a man whom you love. I had a rotten time as a young man. Robert and I fucked each other like rabbits when we were students, but after I got my B.A. and went back home, I had to hide my sexuality, being heavily leaned on to marry. I was a very unsatisfactory husband. I suffered from what is nowadays called erectile dysfunction. I did manage sometimes to get it up and was able to beget one child, your father, Dom. Fortunately my wife was very kind and sweet, she forgave my inadequacies as a fucker of women, and I stayed faithful to her until she died. I'm very lucky now to have a man like Robert. He's not a paid catamite, he's the man I love, and he doesn't mind posing as a chauffeur, and he's very discrete, as is Mrs Harrison our housekeeper, so although most people in the village know that I'm queer, they're discrete enough not to talk about it. I don't know how much Edmund knows about my sexuality, and I don't give a fuck. But it will have to be talked about in the family if you two boys want a civil partnership. I admire Dominic's courage in coming out as gay, and I want him in the future to be a happy, not a frustrated, fourteenth Marquess! 

"Alessandro Mascagnoli, you have my blessing to hitch up with my grandson. I hope that you will both be very happy. You can use the chapel here to take your vows, if you can find a priest to preside!" 

"That will be no problem, my uncle's friend, a Camford Professor will do the job," I said. "He did it for them twenty years ago, so he will do it for us now. He will not be breaking the law, because it will be a family-only ceremony, and we might even be able to get a registrar to be present, to avoid a second ceremony. But that's a long way ahead. We don't plan to get officially engaged until at least Dom has graduated. With modern technology, he will be able to work from home most of the time. But, Sir, I'm sorry to make things so awkward for the Ovenden family." 

"Don't be! Nothing gives an old person more pleasure than seeing two young people in love. And I'm sure that once Edmund gets used to the idea of two gays in the family, he won't raise any difficulties. As for Michael, he'll get the fun, hard work and responsibility of the estate without the hassle of a title, which believe me, is more of a pain than a privilege these days. No wonder Edmund and Dom prefer not to use their courtesy titles! Now let's call in Robert, and have another drink. I think it's time for some Prosecco!" 

Robert came in with a tray and four glasses. The Marquess put his arms round him and kissed him. Robert blushed. "No need to be shy, Robert, these two boys are an item and hope to become life-partners in a couple of years. I just hope that they find as much joy and love together as we have. Dom has the problem of telling my son and daughter and his brothers, but once the dust has died down, you and I will be out of the closet as far as the family is concerned, though we can't tie the knot ourselves." 

"Henry, that IS good news. I get fed up of all this hole-and-corner fucking! Oh dear, what have I just said?" he exclaimed, as Dom and I started to giggle. "Talk about double entendres! I ought to explain to these two boys that I am not a garage mechanic brought in by Henry as a bit of rough trade. Fifty years ago we were students at Boni's together and fell in love. I am younger than him, because he had a spell in the army after leaving school, first as a National Serviceman, then five years as a regular army officer before he went up to Camford, whereas I went up as a scholar at eighteen and did my national service afterwards. By then Henry had been hauled back home and pushed into marriage with an eligible heiress, with pots of money. I stayed on in the army for years and finally retired as a major. I have a good military pension, so I'm not your grandfather's paid catamite. We had always kept in touch, and after his wife died, he invited me to come and live with him under the pretext of me working as a chauffeur. In that role I receive a salary, so that stories don't get around that I am his fancy boy, because to come out publicly at his age would be disastrous. I'm certainly not after his money, either now or when he dies."

After we had drunk the Prosecco, on Robert's suggestion, we all adjourned to the pool, which was in an outbuilding at the back of the house. "It doesn't matter if you boys don't have swimwear," said the Marquess "Robert and I always swim in the nude. We'll just do a dozen or so lengths and then we'll get ready for dinner." To my relief, both of the older men looked OK naked. There were no pendulous paunches or man-tits, and Dom's grandfather did not have that shrivelled and emaciated body that a lot of old men seem to get. Dom and I both got the usual appraising glances from the older men, but no-one betrayed himself with an erection! Afterwards, we showered together and got dressed and sat down to an excellent dinner at which we consumed a lot of wine! The next morning, Dom showed me round the house, and in the afternoon we explored the park. After an excellent meal cooked by Robert, we sat drinking for an hour before both pairs of men had an early night, in which Dom rimmed me with a skill that I had never imagined, and I sucked his delicious cock.

Next day we both made an affectionate farewell to the two old men, and promised to come back soon. On the train back to London, we discussed the next move. We agreed that I should collect my baggage and go straight to Camford. Dom would take a train back to Kent, and drop his double bombshell on his parents. Richard was now back at school and could only be told at second hand, but Dom would just catch Michael before he was due to leave for Oxbridge, whose term started a couple of days later than Camford.



Chapter Fifty-seven: Sandro's final year begins 

It was a Friday when I got back to Camford and took a cab to Fountain Street. The next morning I went round to college with my goods and chattels. The new room was pretty good. There were not many duplex rooms in college with an en-suite bathroom but as we were both scholars, we had no problem in getting one. We had a big sitting room/study, with a sofa, two armchairs, two desks with computer chairs, and two bookcases. Opening off it were our two bedrooms, each with a narrow single bed, a wardrobe and chest of drawers for clothes and bedlinen. Between the two bedrooms was our shared bathroom, with shower, washbasin and toilet, but no bidet of course. Having bagged one of the bedrooms and unloaded my cases, I left to join Jon and David for lunch at the Carp at Stubbington. It was great to see them both, and they were full of high spirits. I told them that I was expecting a momentous phone call from Dom, who was going to come out to his parents and brother. I also told them what Jon already knew, that my boyfriend was in line to inherit a peerage. I asked my uncles to be discreet about the sexuality of Lord Wakefield, and under no circumstances to divulge Dom's identity to anyone. We planned to eat out in the evening, so we only had a sandwich lunch. It was a lovely warm autumn day, and we sat in the pub garden. We had just finished eating, and Jon was buying more beer, when my phone rang. It was Dom. 

"Ciao, inamorato mio! Last night I dropped my bombshell. It was interesting to see the various reactions. My mother and Michael did not look surprised, but my father looked dumbstruck. Michael said he had noticed how fond his grandfather was of Robert, and the looks that he gave him seemed to Michael to suggest a closer relationship than that of chauffeur and boss. My mother said that she had noticed how much happier her father had looked after his wife had died, certainly there was no evidence of deep grief. After Robert had joined the household, she said that grandfather got much more active and cheerful. My father, though he likes to give the impression of being modern, is really a bit old-fashioned, and although prosecutions for gross indecency between men had ceased at a date when he was seven years old, he still seemed to be suspicious of homosexuality. So to discover that his father had been a closet fairy all his life was difficult for him to grasp.

"The revelation that you and I were in love came almost as an anticlimax. You had made a good impression on all of them, and they seemed to welcome the prospect of you eventually joining the family. As we had expected, Michael was not the slightest bit surprised, he had guessed from the first time that he had seen us together. He was delighted to become heir to the family money and the Yorkshire estate. He assured me that I would never be allowed to go hungry. The news that my grandfather had offered us the chapel at Getheringthwaite in which to make our vows seemed to amaze my father. Indeed, he rushed out of the room and rang his father. 

"Ten minutes later he came back still looking stunned. 'My father confirmed all that you have told me!' He said to me in an incredulous tone. 'He confirmed that he and Robert were having it off together regularly and how much he admired you for speaking out about being gay. He said that he had given you and Sandro his blessing. So I suppose I shall have to get used to the idea of a gay father and a gay son!' 

"My mother pointed out that it did not make the slightest difference to their generation, and no-one in our generation was being disadvantaged, so my father should simmer down. No-one was suggesting that on the death of his father he would have to resign his chair and go to live at Getheringthwaite, Michael rather than me would take over the running of the estate. In any case, she said, I was temperamentally unsuited to being a country landowner, and she personally had no desire to become a Lady of the Manor. 'Just let Dom settle down with his boyfriend, and the world will go on unchanged!' 

"So, my darling lad, we are now recognized by my family as an item, and we can get on with our lives!" 

My uncles were delighted that I finally had a proper lover. They told me what they had told my brother: that regular sex is good for examination performance! My finals were only ten months away. They gave me an expensive box of Storing pour homme toiletries to give to Dom. "It's an essential piece of gay equipment in our family, as you already know, Sandro," Uncle Jon said. "Look, you must bring Dom around one evening next week and we will celebrate your relationship. We'll go to the Venezia, as it's much more gay-friendly than any other restaurant in Camford. We've been customers for years, and those sweet young Italian waiters are always friendly and sympathetic. Mind you, we always speak Italian to them, and we tip generously!" 

The next day, Sunday, Dom arrived at Boni's in the afternoon, and there was a formal dinner in the evening to mark the beginning of term at which he wore his new scholar's gown. He said to me, "Sandro, get a comb and a rubber band. I want to see how you would look with a pony-tail!" He took the comb and bunched my longish hair together and tightened the rubber band round it as near to my scalp as it would go. We looked at it on the mirror and I liked what I saw. "I'm going to keep the pony-tail!" I exclaimed. 

The following week, Dom, myself and my two uncles dined one evening at the Venezia. It was an unbelievably happy and high-spirited occasion. My uncles liked my new hairstyle! Much wine was drunk and the two couples separately and unsteadily made our way back to our respective beds.

TO BE CONTINUED



An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 09



Sandro's Third Year

[This is the final instalment of this story and takes Sandro up to the time of his graduation. Hopefully there will be a sequel sometime in which we take the lives of Sandro and Dom further. Thank you for reading this very long story. I hope to publish it eventually as a novel on Amazon.]

Literary Note: 

Pietro Aretino (1492-1556) Italian poet and satirist wrote his sixteen ribald Sonetti Lussuriosi (Lust Sonnets) to accompany Giulio Romano's exquisitely beautiful but utterly pornographic series of drawings engraved by Marcantonio Raimondi under the title I Modi. They appeared in England under the title Aretino's Postures and are referred to in Rochester's play below.

 John Wilmot, Second Earl of Rochester (1647-1680)wrote a series of scurrilous verses about people of the Restoration era, and a stage play said to be the most obscene ever written called Sodom, or the Quintessence of Debauchery in which Bolloximian, King of Sodom, fed up of Cuntigratia, his queen, bans heterosexual intercourse throughout his realm, and commands his male subjects only to have sex with one another. This results in a big increase in business from the female inhabitants of Sodom for the wares of Virtuoso, court supplier of dildos.

Chapter Fifty-eight: Dom's second Martinmas term 

Sandro was now beginning his final year and the academic pressure and workload began to increase. Dom found his study interests moving towards more technological aspects of computers, both hardware and storage technology. Both boys found that increased study pressures left them with less leisure time than ever. However, the non-campus structure of the university meant plenty of exercise between classes, moving from one building to another, often by bike, although the squash games got fewer. 

They did not publicly come out as an item, but it became rapidly apparent to all their friends in college that they were repeatedly doing things together, like eating dinner and sitting together in chapel, and so their relationship soon became obvious. If anyone asked them, they would affirm that they were an item. They were approached by two other gay couples, Andy and Ken and Jim and Alec, and sometimes four of them or six of them would go out together. Andy and Ken were both Boni's students, as was Jim, but Alec came from Buckingham College. 

Sandro went to the Careers Service and signed on for recruiting interviews for graduate traineeships in civil engineering.

About the middle of the Martinmas term, both boys were invited to a party by Pragakorn, the Thai girl whom Sandro had met in his first year. Undergraduate parties in college were strictly controlled by the Dean. Because they were noisy, they were only allowed on Saturday nights, and all guests had to leave by midnight. The Dean himself with a porter patrolled the college for half an hour round midnight, and made sure that all non-residents were off the premises. Dom said, "I bet we have only been invited to even up the numbers of men and women!" College parties were characterized by an excess of alcohol, and this was the reason for the stringent control, to prevent drunken damage to persons and property. 

At lunchtime on the Saturday, Dom told Sandro that he was not going to finish his weekly assignment unless he worked all evening, so Sandro went to the party alone. In spite of what Dom had said, there were in fact far more women than men at the party, perhaps thirty, to twenty men. The guests were spread between two duplex rooms and there were nice oriental snacks as well as lots of wine and beer. 

Chapter Fifty-nine: Introducing Jennifer

I did not feel very chatty, but was prevented from feeling bored by a long conversation with a rather pretty girl, who said to me, "So Sandro! It seems that your boyfriend has let you off the leash for the evening!" 

"I'm not on a leash!" I said, "I don't see Dom between 9 am and 6 pm Monday to Friday and 9 am to noon on Saturday. We don't live in one another's pockets. But he is busy tonight trying to finish an assignment. What is your connection with Pragakorn?" 

"I have the next door room, so she needed my room for the party. I'm a first year, reading engineering. My name is Jennifer Littleboy. I know that you're a third-year engineering student. Why did Pragakorn invite you? She doesn't usually invite gays to parties." 

"I went out with her for a bit in our first year, before I realized that I really preferred men. It was a mutually unsatisfactory arrangement, and I'm sure that she was glad when we ended it." 

"Personally, I like gay men. I feel comfortable in their company, because I don't feel threatened or tempted. I've got the ideal qualifications to be a fag-hag!" 

"And which fags are you hag to at the moment? I probably know some of them." 

"None actually, but I wouldn't mind getting to know you!" 

"OK, then after the party, please will you come and have coffee with me? Dom may or may not be there. I'd like him to get to know you, so that you could maybe keep an eye on him after I've left next year. I'm not frightened about him getting involved with other men, or women either for that matter, but I am frightened of him getting lonely, or retreating into a geekish world of computers." 

So when the music got louder, the behaviour wilder and the smell of hash stronger, the two of us left the party and walked across the quad to the staircase where our room was located. I got busy making coffee in an Italian home coffee machine. Dom had apparently gone to the college library, where it was quieter. "How do you like your coffee?" I asked. 

"Caffè latte, please," replied Jennifer. While I was busying myself with the milk, Dom came in. I went across and kissed him.

"Hi, Dom, this is Jennifer. Would you like some coffee?" 

"Yes, please! So, Jennifer, what are you reading?" 

"Engineering, I'm in the first year, so you won't have seen me at dinner. How about you?" 

"I'm in my second year, doing computer studies, or geekology as some folk in college call it. Are you into walking? Would you like to come for a walk with Sandro and me round the college waterways on Sunday afternoon?" I was surprised to hear this spontaneous invitation from Dom, and a bit uneasy. I wondered if he fancied her. 

"That would be nice, if the two of you can tear yourselves away from fucking for an hour or two!" 

"Actually, we often go walking on a Sunday afternoon. We only go to bed if it's cold and wet!" replied Dom much less crudely. 

"So, lovemaking is a wet day activity then?" 

"I prefer not to answer that question!" said Dom primly. "Our personal relations are not open to discussion. If you don't mind me saying so (or even if you do), your questions are very unladylike." 

"They are meant to be. I was telling Sandro that I want to be a fag-hag to the two of you: a sympathetic shoulder for you to cry on!" 

"Why us, and not say, Andy and Ken? We are both rather crude buggers, and we will not moderate our conversation if you want to socialize with us." 

"That doesn't worry me in the slightest. Be as crude as you want. I don't care. You can both fart like troopers if you need to. It won't upset or embarrass me! Remember I want to be an engineer, an uncouth male profession! I've got to get used to men's crude habits. Besides, I have two brothers, and they are not particularly polite to me. By the way, I've seen the two of you at the Rialto, snogging in the back row! Also, I'm in the Chapel Choir, and I've seen you in Chapel as well!" 

"As we're speaking frankly, what about YOUR love life? Is there any particular man or woman who is the object of your passion?" 

"Not at the moment." 

"In that case, it looks as if your offer is simply because you have nothing better to do!" 

"The freshmen engineers are a boring lot, and slow at doing their sums. Not one of them is the least bit attractive, either to men or to women! I want some intelligent company!" 

"Thanks for the compliment!" said Dom, "It will be nice for us to go out with you. Sandro and I spend too much time in each other's company." In saying this of course, he had just contradicted what I had said to Jennifer earlier in the evening. Again I had an uneasy feeling about this girl, and just hoped that she was not going to bring trouble. 

I said to Jennifer, "If you want to go out with us, we need to know your tastes. You mentioned the Rialto, do you go there often?" 

"Every couple of weeks." 

"Do you like classical music? You're in the chapel Choir. We often go to concerts and recitals." 

"That's fine by me." 

"Do you expect to sit with us at Sunday dinner in Hall?" 

"Not necessarily. The choir usually sits together."

"You mentioned being a shoulder to cry on. What guarantee do we have that if we confided something to you that you wouldn't spread it all over college?" 

"Of course I wouldn't. I would be as silent as the grave!" 

"We'll just have to wait until we get to know one another then. Would you be interested in joining us when we go out as foursome with Ken and Andy or Jim and Alec?" 

"Not all together, no." she replied.

Sunday afternoon was dry and sunny, but there was a cold wind. Even with us well wrapped up in scarves and gloves, it was cold for November. On a few of the stiller stretches of water, there were thin unthawed patches of ice. In the end, shivering somewhat in the cold wind, we entered a tea-shop and ordered tea and toasted teacakes. There were few other customers. Jennifer had rosy cheeks from the wind and looked very attractive, but was irritatingly cheerful. Neither Dom nor I found women unattractive, it's just that some men are even more attractive. By the time we left the cafe, it was getting dark and we hurriedly made our way back to college to get a few jobs done before chapel and dinner. Jennifer did not sit with us during dinner, we sat with my fellow final year engineers. By now of course, they had finally realized the relationship between Dom and me, and we got teased from time to time, but it was all friendly and unmalicious.

During the weeks that followed, we took Jennifer with us whenever we went to the Rialto or to a pub and she was happy to pay for her own ticket when we went to concerts together. We felt a bit sorry for her. She was the only woman from Boni's doing first year engineering, and the male students were not very nice to her. She gave as good as she got with table repartee, but she said that the choir members were much better company, because they were more gentlemanly. On the whole, we enjoyed her company. She was quite happy for Dom and me to sit together at the Rialto or at a concert, she did not insist on sitting between us. If she had, I think that we would have told her to get lost!

Chapter Sixty: A gay gathering

Early in August, Tom and Luke received an invitation to Arturo's villa to meet the two gays who had been involved in the incident at Arturo's party in July. Tom was particularly happy that day, because he had just received the results of his piano exam, and he had passed with distinction.

Instead of the staid dinner party to which they had become accustomed, the evening this time took the form of a pool party for six. The food and drink were set out on a trestle table adjacent to the pool and guests could help themselves. There were tables and chairs set out beside the pool, and they could spend as little or as much time in the water as they wished. Only Arturo stayed out of the water. "I'm too fat and lazy for swimming," he said, "but I know that most of you enjoy it." This was not in fact the case. Arturo was playing the modest host. Like nearly all gay men, he was conscious of his appearance and the need to keep fit. The rest of the party swam vigorously or splashed about lazily, as they felt inclined. A few threw a ball around and splashed to fetch it if it was not caught.

The man from the university Academic Office who had hit the tenor Lavini was called Giovanni, and his boyfriend was called Angelo. Angelo was exactly as you might expect from his name, a sweet, blond-haired young man, ravishingly attractive and his beauty was liable to embarrass even straight men by giving them an involuntary hard-on! No wonder Lavini had made a pass at him. The two men were both about thirty, and when clothed were beautifully dressed. They were all, including Bastian, wearing skimpy, brightly coloured Italian swimwear, which just about covered the arse and left little about the packet in front to the imagination. 

Arturo did a good job in keeping up an animated conversation, which prevented them from dwelling too long on thoughts about the possibilities hidden in the front of their swimming cozzies! He had suddenly realized what a sexually explosive situation he had created by putting together a bunch of fit, randy gay males in states of near nudity. Unless he wanted the evening to end in a mass orgy and lasting regrets, he would have to handle the situation with utmost care. Further thought reminded him that no less than three of his guests, Tom, Giovanni and Bastian, were somewhat jealous by nature and might react violently. That could precipitate an even worse scenario involving fighting! 

Accordingly, he announced that at 9 pm they would adjourn to the house, dressed, in order to drink coffee and listen to a short recital by Tom and Luca. After that, drinks would be served indoors. No-one could gainsay what the host decreed. So just before nine they all got dried and dressed. Needless to say Arturo had to keep a conversation going in the communal changing room, where nearly every man was in a state of full or partial erection! Some indeed had to struggle to disentangle their damp swimming trunks from their woodies. To some extent the resulting laughter defused the unspoken sexual tension. 

In the house, Tom played Arturo's grand piano to accompany Luke, who sang Non piu andrai, Dear pretty youth and Per questa bella mano. Then it was Giovanni's turn. He was a tenor and sang a few of the less demanding tenor arias by Verdi and Rossini to Tom's accompaniment. After the singing, drinks were served and the guests started to talk. It turned out that Angelo was the only non-professionally educated guest. He was a male fashion model, propelled by his good looks from a poor rural family to a well-paid model's job. After a few years of selling himself to the highest bidder, he had met Giovanni and fallen in love. In spite however of his extremely appealing good looks, it was clear that money was an important factor in his lifestyle, and Tom wondered whether a public sector employee like Giovanni would ever be able to survive a long-term relationship with such a man, without becoming totally impoverished! 

Arturo in the meantime breathed a sigh of relief. In contrast to Shakespeare's assertion that music has aphrodisiac effects, in this case the music served to break the androgen-laden tension and cool off the sexual ardour! However to be absolutely certain that trouble would not break out later, he arranged for two separate taxis to take the two gay couples back to their homes.

Chapter Sixty-one: Sandro and Dom at Paradise Place 

As soon as term ended and I had passed my Christmas Progress Test, I accompanied Dom to Paradise Place. This time Dom had arranged for us to share a room. We hoped to get me accepted as one of the family. I was much more apprehensive about my reception than on my previous visit, but I was warmly received without any hesitation by Lady Batley and Dom's brothers. However, the Earl was more hesitant. The day after their arrival, Dom told me that his father wanted to talk to me alone. "He said that I shouldn't be present!" he said. So with great apprehension, I entered the Professor/Earl's study. 

"Sit down, Sandro and tell me about yourself and your family," he said. I told Lord Batley about my maternal grandparents, that my grandfather had been CEO of Moorside County Council before his retirement, and that my grandmother was Dutch. I told him about my mother and her liaison with a dishonourable Italian lover, and about my brother's adoption. I told him that my father Massimo was a successful businessman in Verona. I explained that Luke and his two adoptive cofathers were all gay, so that like the Ovenden family, there was homosexuality in the family. 

"I am very grateful to you, Sandro, for not having a secretive relationship with Dom. Homosexuality no longer obliges men to indulge in furtive back-alley activities (in all senses of the word!), and men who know themselves and their partners to be ready for a permanent relationship are to be respected. They have chosen a much more difficult life-path than heterosexuals. You and Dominic could have carried on an affair for a couple of years without being obliged to tell anyone. I am glad that you have openly chosen my son to be yours, I just want to warn you that you must not let him down. Any failure of self-confidence on his part at this stage of his life could have permanent disastrous consequences." 

"Sir, I want your son for life, for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. I am not after your family money, I do not want to bring the noble name of your family into disrepute. I just want to spend the rest of my life with Dom, living quietly and working for a living. The succession to your title is guaranteed with two other sons." 

"As long as they too don't turn out to be gay!" said Lord Batley with a smile. "Alessandro, do your best to make my son happy!" 

"I will, sir, I promise you that," I said. It was clear that I had made a good impression on Lord Batley.

When I went back to Dom, who was anxiously waiting for me in the hall, I dragged him off to our bedroom and locked the door. "I told your father that I want to be yours for life, and he thanked me for not engaging in a secretive affair. He warned me to stay faithful and not upset your performance in Camford. In actual fact, from all that my gay relatives have told me, regular sex will IMPROVE your academic performance. And I want you NOW!" I began to tear his clothes off, beginning with his footwear, pulled his jeans down and took his cock into my mouth. 

"Slow down, Sandro! At least let me take my shirt off!" he said. With both hands pressing on his buttocks, I pushed his belly tightly against my face, as I tried to swallow his cock. He enthusiastically began to fuck my mouth, the scent of Storing pour homme getting more pronounced as it mixed with his sweat. Yes, he was now a regular user of the famous Belgian male perfume that for many years gays in our family had made their trademark.

"You man-eating monster!" he whispered, "You ball-licking, arse-kissing, nipple-nibbling slut! My slender, agile, cuddlesome faggot! My sweet, delightful cock-sucker. How long before I can explore your hole? I desperately want to fuck that hot hole of yours. I'm dying to bugger you silly! When are we going to take the plunge and pop the cherry?" He quickened his pace and with a muffled grunt shot his spunk into my welcoming mouth. 

"The answer to your question," I replied after I had swallowed his juice, "is one Saturday and Sunday next term. For cherry popping we need quiet and privacy for a whole day. I don't want to do it in college. Uncle Jon is going to spend a weekend in Heemstede with Uncle David in the middle of February when David has a season at the Amsterdam Musiektheater. We can skip any Saturday morning lectures and have about 30 hours to ourselves in Fountain Street to fuck ourselves silly. I'll arrange for a high quality home-delivered meal for the Saturday and we'll get some drinks in and a couple of porn DVDs, in case we have erection problems. Although, as I told you before, I've done rimming and giving head, the chocolate boulevard is a route that I've never experienced." 




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 09



"Me neither! I have had sex with a couple of women, but only via the cunt." 

"You enigmatic bugger! You never told me that you have shagged women!" 

"Only because you never asked! But the main point is, that I didn't particularly enjoy it. I'm not keen on the smell of women. It's the usual story. Unless you are having sex with a woman who knows what to do and what men and women need from sex, you won't particularly enjoy it. At least with a man, you have a good idea about what turns men on, and it's much easier to see whether a guy is enjoying himself, and if he's not, he will soon tell you. Women won't talk about it, unless they are prostitutes, where their living depends on making men happy! Well, as I asked first, I want to be the first to do the fucking. My dick is bigger than yours, so I promise to be very gentle. But must we really wait six weeks?" 

"Well, it would be nice to mark our cherry popping with a special meal without you having to do any cooking. I'm hopeless at cooking! But I want a go at being top as well, you know, so we need plenty of time."

Chapter Sixty-two: Christmas at Getheringthwaite

After a very enjoyable week or so, we left on the train for the north, to spend Christmas with Lord Wakefield. The Marquess had made it clear that now that he and Robert were out of the closet, he no longer wanted to spend Christmas away from his boyfriend. Accordingly, he had invited Dom and me to spend the festive season with him and Robert and Mrs Harrison, to see how things worked out, while the rest of the family were still trying to come to terms with the head of the family in bed with his chauffeur! 

We boys were not alone. We were joined on Christmas Day by the vicar and his wife. It was an old tradition in the Ovenden family that the vicar of Getheringthwaite, whose appointment was in the gift of the Ovendens, should dine with the Marquess on Christmas Day after celebrating the Eucharist in the chapel at Getheringthwaite Hall. Although Lord Wakefield was not particularly religious, he was a great believer in family traditions, so the vicar presided in the chapel to a congregation of five plus his wife. We were very interested to see the place where we hoped to tie the knot in a few years' time. It was like a small version of a Camford college chapel with furnishings largely unchanged since the late seventeenth century, when extensive damage by Cromwell's soldiers had had to be made good. The Marquess at the time had had a taste for the baroque, so the chapel was much more colourful than was usual for English places of worship, and had rather shocked the Victorians with all its gilt and colour, but fortunately they had not made any changes.

Afterwards, all seven of us sat down to dinner in the state dining room, the only time of the year that it was used for a meal, except on big family occasions like weddings. We had been warned in advance that formal dress was required, and Dom had arranged for the hire of a dinner suit for me. He told me that I looked ravishingly beautiful in it, and it was clear that the two older men were also impressed by my appearance. It was the first time that I had ever dressed up for Christmas dinner. Dom hinted to me that the old man was already secretly planning the details for his grandson's future partnership ceremony. Robert had exchanged his chauffeur's uniform for a dinner jacket. Mrs Harrison had called in extra help in both kitchen and dining room for the Christmas holiday period. It was essential to have someone in the kitchen, because although she was in charge of cooking the meal, Lord Wakefield had asked her to join us to eat. It is not impossible to find people willing to work for a few hours on Christmas Day if they are paid enough! 

At Lord Wakefield's request, the vicar said grace. The old lord eschewed new-fangled dishes like turkey, and we sat down to a delicious partridge and venison pie with seasonal vegetables, preceded by celery soup and followed by Christmas pudding, not a wide range of dishes, but quantity was exceeded by quality. I wished that my brother, Tom, could have been there. It was just his style of cookery. In deference to our tastes, three Italian wines were also available. 

After the meal, coffee and cakes were served in the Portrait Gallery, where the party was able to inspect paintings of the Ovenden family going back to the first Marquess, who it was rumoured had got his title by sleeping with King James VI/I, a notoriously bisexual monarch. Lord Wakefield gleefully pointed to the picture of the sixth Marquess in the eighteenth century, who had never married, but had shared his bed with countless boys and young men, a scandal that took the family fifty years to outlive. He had had a preference not for men of gentle or noble birth, but for country lads and even soldiers. There were stories that by the time he was thirty-five, the Perverted Lord as he was known, had buggered every unmarried male in the village of Getheringthwaite and some of the married ones as well! A family story told how the artist had been obliged to finish off the painting rather hastily, as he was being propositioned by the Perverted Lord. Fortunately for old Lord Wakefield, the vicar was young and broad-minded, and not at all shocked by this story. 

I was delighted to discover that gayness seemed to run in Dom's family! As a Christmas present, I had bought Dom a set of three silk shirts in attractive colours, each with a pair of matching underpants, by one of Italy's most fashionable designers. They had cost a lot of money, but I was prepared to go hungry if necessary to get a present good enough for my boy! Dom had bought me an iPhone to replace the one that had been stolen. "You might need to cut down your SIM card to make it fit," he said.

Late in the afternoon, just before it got dark, we two boys escorted the vicar and his wife back to the vicarage before walking vigorously back to the Hall in time to help Mrs Harrison and the hired girl load the dishwasher. 

Boxing Day morning was spent watching the local hunt gather on the village green before we returned with Lord Wakefield and Robert to the house for a few lengths in the pool before a superb cold lunch served up with great panache by Mrs Harrison, after which all the men got down to serious drinking. We had been tempted to call in at the village pub after the meet, but decided that our appearance as a foursome might lead to gossip!

Chapter Sixty-three: The New Year

Three days later, Dom and I took the train northward to Loxton, where we were to spend New Year with Sandro's grandparents. We had a long wait between trains in York, and we left the station and I took Dom up on to the walls to view the city, which he had never visited before. I warned Dom that he could expect a third-degree grilling by Mr Scarborough, who took an almost obsessive interest in his family's personal relationships. He replied, "It can't be worse than what you had to undergo from my father!" 

In fact, it was not a grilling at all. Mr Scarborough saw the two of us together, asked Dom a few questions about his family, which Dom answered carefully, not revealing his noble ancestry, and then shook hands and kissed each of us and said, "I've done this to my children and grandchildren so often that I now know true love when I see it! Just remember that you want to be together for life and treat each other with respect, and think of the damage you will do by being unfaithful." The Scarboroughs were delighted to see us. So many of their children and grandchildren lived abroad that they found the family home increasingly empty, and were seriously wondering about downsizing to a smaller house in the South. The number of double bedrooms available in their huge house had become excessive, because as their grandchildren grew up, there were no longer any occasions when three generations were in the house at once.

My grandparents were keen walkers, and the weather that January was mild and fairly dry, so the four of us walked about 10 km most days and talked a lot, so that by the time that I flew home for the last ten days before the Candlemas term began, we all felt that we knew one another quite well. As with Dom's grandfather, we found the wisdom of old age more congenial that our parents' advice. Dom spent the last week of the vac. back home at Paradise Place. I promised Dom that I would never tell anyone in Camford about where we had spent Christmas, as it would compromise his identity.

My parents and Bianca were glad to see me. It was my first ever Christmas away from home, and I realized how much warmer it was in Emilia-Romagna than in North Yorkshire! Fortunately, Luca and Tom had been there, so my parents had not been without guests over the festal period. The boys had also returned for New Year. My parents now seemed totally reconciled to my homosexuality. I asked them if they had told my grandparents. They said that they had not, that it was my job! I told them that I would take Dom to see them at Easter. "How's your new boyfriend?" asked my sister Bianca. 

"He's fine. You can't believe what being in love is like. I miss him enormously when I'm away from him." 

"He seemed very nice, but I'm not sure that I will like him as much as Tom. I wish Tom wasn't gay, I would like him for myself, but of course he's already spoken for! Your brother is a lucky boy to have Tom for a partner." 

"You're much too young to think of serious relationships, cara mia, just concentrate on getting into a university! There'll be plenty of time for love when you get older." 

Chapter Sixty-four: Sandro's final Candlemas term

In mid-February, the momentous weekend arrived. We made all our preparations in advance: I would see to the food, drink and domestic arrangements such as lots of clean towels and Dom would see to the sexual equipment, including porn DVDs. After breakfast on the Saturday morning, we hastily made our beds in college (the bedders did not come in at weekends, so no-one would note our one-night absence). We arrived in the flat in Fountain street about 9-30 am, just in time to accept delivery of a bouquet of expensive white roses, organized by Dom. "Oh Dom, they're beautiful, they've even got some scent" I said and sniffed them appreciatively. "Pity that imported flowers have such a short life," I said, "they'll be dead by Monday." 

"And so will our anal virginity!" said Dom. 

"Lunch will be delivered at 2 pm," I said, "and if we get undressed now, we have several hours to enjoy ourselves." We locked the door, and undressed hastily. We took it in turns to visit the bathroom for our morning shit. We had saved it till we got to the flat so as to make use of the bidet to get our lower regions thoroughly clean. 

Both of us were semi-erect in anticipation. Dom had had a spending spree at the sex shop. He produced a neat plastic case, which on opening revealed a set of dildos in various sizes and colours and a leaflet bearing the words: Doctor Virtuoso's Compleat Dildo Kit: Product Care. "I thought that these might assist in stretching our anal sphincters," he said. "We can use them on each other after we've used lube and fingers and before we use our pricks. But always keep in mind, if anything goes wrong and we have to stop, we still love each other and there are many ways of expressing that besides buggery!" 

The apartment was comfortably warm and neither our bodies nor our feet were cold. We went into our bedroom and made sure that everything we needed was within reach. Then Dom made me bend over the bed and he began to apply lube to my arse-crack and perineum. Then he pushed a lube-coated finger into my arsehole and through the sphincter. He wiggled it around without me feeling any discomfort before inserting two fingers and repeating the operation. He separated his fingers inside me so that the sphincter was stretched. It hurt a little, but not much. He then repeated the operation with three fingers and pushed them as far apart as he could and that did hurt. "I'll give you five minutes to adjust!" he said as he stopped stretching, but kept his fingers in place. Then he got a fairly narrow dildo, asking me whether I wanted a pink one or a black one. I said that I didn't give a fuck what colour it was. He pulled his fingers out of my hole and proceeded to push the dildo in. In spite of his gentleness and the resilience of the silicone rubber, it hurt like hell. I nearly screamed. 

"Don't get excited, I'm not going to fuck you with it, I'm just going to leave it there for a few minutes to stretch you!" he said. "In the meantime, please will you suck my cock?" So there I stood, bent over the bed, with half the length of a black dildo up my arse! I turned through 90° and took my stud-boy's cock into my mouth. It began to stiffen as I licked and chewed it and I could feel it hardening all the time. "Keep hold of it in your hand while I apply lube," said Dom. I did as I was told. Then Dom rolled a condom rapidly on to his cock, and pulled out the dildo. He moved behind me and began gently to penetrate my arsehole with his tool. As he pushed, it hurt like hell again and this time I did scream. He stopped pushing, but did not remove his cock and I could feel this thick object lodged in my hole like a giant turd. With a defecatory reflex, I instinctively tried to push it out, but he gently pushed it a few centimetres further in. He stopped and my rectum gradually became accustomed to this solid object filling my gut. It began to give me a quite pleasant 'full' sensation. 

Once he saw that I was no longer in pain, he began to fuck me slowly and gently, increasing the depth at each thrust. How long this went on, I have no idea, but after a few minutes, I started to enjoy it. Sometimes Dom's berubbered cock hit or brushed my prostate gland and sent a thrill of pleasure through the lower part of my body. He slowly quickened his pace, while at the same time gently rubbing my dick, which began to ooze precome copiously. I reached out, grabbed an unwrapped condom from the bedside and rolled it onto my cock. Dom worked his hand more vigorously on my manhood, while continuing to ram my arsehole. Suddenly my climax arrived and with shudder and a shout, I shot my load into the condom. 

Dom left off playing with my dick and started to rub his hands over my chest. I could feel his sweet sweat dripping from his armpits onto my body. After a short time it was his turn to come, and with a jerk he unloaded his seed into the rubber in my rectum. He started kissing my back as his cock slowly became limp, and he withdrew it from my anus. He then lifted me onto the bed and collapsed exhausted beside me. We lay there for some minutes, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies with the condoms still enclosing our dicks. Then Dom reached for a tissue, pulled the condom off my cock, wiped the excess jism off it and knotted the condom before dropping it on the floor. He then did the same with his own condom and began to kiss my belly. His loving attention was delightful and I snuggled up to him and we dozed off into a semi-sleep for a few minutes. 

As I resurfaced, I began to kiss Dom's sweaty chest, which still had a faint odour of Storing pour homme. "I love you, stud-boy! I think that I am going to enjoy being fucked, once my hole gets thoroughly used to that snake-stick between your legs. Thank you for so sweetly and gently popping my cherry! Would you like some coffee, my dear gut-fucker?" 

"Yes, please, my sweet bum-boy!" I went into the kitchen, filled and switched on the coffee machine and in a few minutes returned with two large espresso coffees. "No drinking of coffee in bed!" I said, and put the cups on a table and pulled up two chairs. I watched Dom's dick bob up and down as he crossed the room and sat down beside me. I put my arm round him and began to kiss him, pausing occasionally to take a sip of coffee. "I love your beautiful hole!" he said, "You must teach me the Italian for that!"

"Mi piace tuo culo bello!" I told him. "Do you want it now, or shall we wait until after lunch?" 

"Let's do it now! I'm sure that you want it." 

"Actually, can we watch a bit of porn for half an hour, just to get me thoroughly randy? At the moment, I feel more loving than lustful. We've plenty of time." So Dom put on a porn movie called  Rustic Lust, or Farm boys at Work in which two pairs of handsome actors undressed one another in a hay barn before having sex in several interesting positions.

Chapter Sixty-five: Dom's cherry is popped

After perhaps fifteen minutes of the movie, we were both exuding precome, and we muted the film and Dom bent over the bed. I knelt and began to kiss his beautiful arse. The curve of his rump felt wonderful as I ran my lips through the soft blond hair that covered each delicious cheek. I pushed my face into his cleft and began to rim him. After giving the walls a good licking I tried to push my tongue through his sphincter, but didn't really manage it. Having thoroughly wet his crack with my saliva, I started to anoint him with K-T gel. I faithfully followed the finger-stretching routine that he had used earlier. I then took a pink dildo and gently inserted it through the ring of his sphincter. He gave a yelp, but did not shrink. My dick was still oozing precome as I pulled out the dildo and entered his hole with my rubber-sheathed cock. He pulled a face, but then relaxed and began to smile. "Go at it, baby!" he said, "Fuck me silly!"

"I love you, stud-boy, I'm going to make you mine. Men used to swear brotherhood by exchanging blood. We're going to do it by exchanging spunk!" and I started gentle fucking movements. I bent as far forward over him as I could, so that a maximum area of our bodies was in contact and I could feel the warmth of his body and the throb of the blood coursing through his veins. We were as near as possible to bodily unity, as near one flesh as two men could be. I kept kissing the small of his back when my thrusting was at its deepest. I cupped his balls in my left hand and rubbed his dick with my right. 

After what seemed only seconds of total bliss, but which in reality must have lasted about ten minutes, I came violently and shouted "My own Dom!" before pulling out of his hole and pulling him on top of me on the bed. 

He began to rub his cock on my belly while smothering my face and neck with kisses. Again I could feel his sweat dripping on me before he muttered "I'm gonna come!" and squirted his man-juice over my belly and chest. 

I put both my arms round him and held him tightly. "You've made me so happy, Dom" I said, "You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I want to be yours for ever, and I will do anything you want, including giving up a career if we decide to have babies! I feel a real man for the first time, now that I've fucked you, but if you want me to be a home-maker, I will do that." 

"Sandro, Sandro, there's no need to go to extremes. We need to have careers and a life together before we consider babies. When we finally become partners, I want to commission a portrait of the two of us hand-in-hand for the Portrait Gallery at Getheringthwaite. And I don't want you to be a permanent bottom. I want you to feel able to fuck me whenever you want. I really enjoyed having your dick up my shithole!" 

By now it was 12-30, and we were beginning to feel a bit hungry, although lunch would not arrive until 2 pm. I went to the kitchen cupboard and found two packets of potato crisps, and brought them into the bedroom, followed by a bottle of Prosecco and two glasses. We settled down on the sofa and resumed watching Rustic Lust, like a pair of slightly upmarket teenagers. 

After another fifteen minutes of the film, we were ready to shag again and this time Dom laid me on my back with my legs on his shoulders and fucked me face-to-face. In many ways, this was much better than the doggy position, because we could kiss and see each other's face. There was no pain this time, just a little discomfort on first penetration. After the fuck, we cuddled up close in bed and resumed drinking the fizzy wine.




An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 09



By the time that we had finished the Prosecco, it was 2 pm and the doorbell rang. Over the doorphone I asked the deliverer to wait, pulled on jeans and sweater and descended the steps barefoot to collect the box of food. I took it upstairs into the kitchen and opened it. There was a carton of gourmet soup that needed to be heated up in the microwave, a dressed crab with salad, potato salad, hard-boiled egg and bread-sticks, and a trifle dessert, with a bottle of Riesling wine and a box of coffee mints. In spite of our previous snack, we were still ravenous, and we sat up at the table in the small dining room, both still stark naked, and tucked in to the meal. It was one of the best meals I have ever had. As we drank our coffee, Dom showed his enjoyment by farting noisily and said, "Sandro, if you chose that menu, you're a genius!" 

"Well, yes, I did, but it was a package. It was described in the brochure as a honeymoon or seduction menu. But it served just as well as a virginity-loss menu! Let's just have ten minutes more of Rustic Lust to give our food a chance to settle and then it's my turn again! I love you SO much, and it's ages since we last spent a day alone together." 

My second fuck was much less tense. The knowledge that I could gain admission to the treasure house made me more confident and also my dick was harder. I adopted the missionary position with Dom lying on his back. There was no time wasted in applying lube, except to my condom, and the sight of Dom's wide open legs and the delicious starfish visible through his hairy crack reinforced my desire to get in there and fuck him hard. I lifted his legs onto my shoulders and gently and cautiously began to push my dick into him. The ring opened easily and I was inside him without any apparent discomfort on his part. He smiled encouragingly at me and I bent forward and kissed his sweet face. Since my dick is not particularly long, I knew that I could push it in to its maximum extent so that he would be able to feel my pubic hair against his arse-cheeks. So I got going fucking him reasonably hard and rapidly. He grinned, and said, "That's what I like. No sex education manual tells you how much men like to be fucked! You are doing a brilliant job, Sandro!" 

I continued buggering Dom for quite some time, until eventually I came. By then it was my turn to drip sweat and Dom smiled again lovingly. I withdrew from his hole and lay on top of him, belly to belly and began to rub my belly against his erect cock. He responded by pushing his belly upwards and within a couple of minutes he began to wriggle with excitement prior to coming to his climax and squirting his jism all over both our bellies. I lay quietly on top of him for a couple of minutes, and then rolled over to lie beside him on the towel that I had spread out to protect my uncles' silk sheets. He snuggled up beside me and whispered in my ear "Long live buggery! You've given me the delight of my life. That was the best bodily experience I have ever had. Streets ahead of a gourmet meal at a fancy restaurant! I'm yours for life, Sandro Mascagnoli!" 

I got out of bed and brought a flannel to clean ourselves up. Then we had a couple of hours sleep until about 6-30, when we showered and went to the Venezia, where we shared a pizza and salad and a bottle of Cortese, before returning home for an early night. Sleeping together during term time was still a great luxury, and we made the most of each other's closeness. 

The following day, we eased off on the sex, but stayed in bed quite late enjoying one another's kisses and company. It was sheer coincidence, but it happened to be the anniversary of the incident when my phone was stolen and Dom realized that he loved me. We skipped breakfast, but went to the Sparrowhawk for an early lunch and a couple of pints before returning to the flat, sorting out the bed and generally clearing up. Then we went a short walk, heading back to college and arrived in time for Chapel and dinner.

Chapter Sixty-six: Dom tells us his reactions

After much impatience on my part, finally in mid-February of my second year, Sandro and I finally went the whole way. We both felt that we needed to be sure of each other before consummating our relationship. We needed to feel that total union of our bodies was an act of commitment to a long-term relationship that we both felt should be lifelong. I had been lusting for his submissive body for months, longing to plunge my rampant dick into his mouth-watering arsehole and shag the shit out of him. However the reality proved rather different. My sweet submissive boy wanted to do the same to me! He said that my hairy muscular arse really set him drooling with lust! So there was no one-sided sacrifice of anal virginity. We both wanted to possess the other and to surrender ourselves to him. Clearly this was a situation that required thought and compromise, so that we both had a chance to pop the other's cherry, as the crude expression has it. 

My only previous experience of non-oral penetration was with two girls when I was a sixthformer. Neither of them was particularly attractive, but they both came on to me very hard, and as a sex-curious teenager, I was not going to say no! Obviously in the first case I was losing my virginity, but for a man, that just means one's first fuck. I was heavily encouraged and I managed to perform, but I did not really enjoy it. The second time, I found myself wondering why I was doing it, which scarcely suggests that I was being carried away by love, or even lust. For the next three years, gentlemanly relief using porn web sites was enough for me, and I really thought that the joys of sex were grossly exaggerated.

Then I met Sandro, and gradually things began to change. This quiet Italian boy was obviously hot, and he made no secret of wanting me in every way possible. After enjoying his company for a few months, I knew that I was as much in love as he obviously was. I was forced into a declaration by Sandro getting mugged by a street teenager and having his iPhone nicked. He was concussed in the robbery, and as I sat by his bedside as he lay unconscious in the hospital, I realized that he had become precious to me. So in that way we became lovers.

That day in the apartment in Fountain Street was the culmination of our union. By fucking one another, Sandro and I sealed the bond of union between us, strengthened very much by my grandfather's moral support. Our relationship had sparked a family revolution, dragging my historic Ovenden family into the twenty-first century. There had been gay Ovendens before, including the first Marquess, who slept with King James and got his title as reward for playing Pockenello to James's Bolloximian. My grandfather revealed to me that he had always been a closet gay and was currently fucking his chauffeur, but had been pushed by his family into marriage and begetting an heir to the title. He told me that as I had two brothers, male succession to his title was assured, so if I chose to take a male partner, I was in no way letting the family down. "You will be the first openly gay Marquess since James Ovenden, sixth Marquess in the eighteenth century, the Perverted Lord, who created a family scandal by publicly kissing one of his bum-boys as he left the chamber of the House of Lords!" he said. "That made the family politically unacceptable for fifty years afterwards! It's interesting too, that when the Parliament Houses were burnt down in 1834, certain radical preachers said that it was God's judgement on Parliament for the sodomitical behaviour of certain members of the upper house. All this because the poor guy had kissed his boyfriend in public!"

I was given the job of breaking the news to my parents and brothers that there were TWO gays in the family. It only proved hard to convince my father. My mother and brothers were quite happy to have a gay son/brother, especially the second son, my brother Michael, who as heir to the estate, but not the title, would take over running the family estates when my father, who was an academic with no interest in country life, inherited the title. My father's big shock was not his queer son, but his faggot father! But British society has moved on since the nineteen-forties, and to be a practising gay is not only no longer criminal, it is fashionable!

So to my great surprise, I discovered that not only did I enjoy fucking Sandro, but that I enjoyed it when he fucked me. His average-sized tool fitted nicely into my back passage, and it was a delight to submit to his advances.

Later, when I began to learn some Italian, Sandro showed me this quotation from Pietro Aretino's eighth Sonnetto Lussurioso

Finisca in me la mia genealogia!/ Chio vo' fottervi dietro, spesso, spesso,/ Poiché gli é più differente il tondo dal fesso/ che l'acquata dalla malvasia.

My lineage ends in me/ I want to dedicate myself to your arsehole,/ For cunt and ringhole both differ/ As much as water and rich wine.

Although the poet is writing of the contrast between the two female bodily orifices, he definitely prefers the arsehole, even though it means he will never have any children! 

After our wonderful virginity-loss festival, we were both totally committed to a gay lifestyle. I admired my grandfather enormously for risking scandalizing his family in order to enjoy in old age the pleasure he had missed during his marriage. I felt grateful too to my father, who by begetting my two brothers had enabled me to be free from any need to do the same! When I thanked him for that, he grinned and shook my hand. He was not a man-kisser, not even of his own sons! 

When we next went to the pub with Jennifer, at the end of the evening she said to us (we had all become a bit indiscreet with alcohol), "You guys are different since that weekend away that you had. Sandro is a lot more self-confident. I wonder what you both got up to that weekend." 

"You can wonder, but we won't tell you!" I said, "but yes indeed, we are different." 

Chapter Sixty-seven: Dom's second Easter vacation

One day, shortly before the end of term, as I was working in the third-year lab, Professor Hinchcliffe, Head of the engineering department, came into the lab and asked me to come to his office for a few minutes. He told me that he had had a very good report about my time at Rail-UK, and that if I got a first, the company was prepared to offer me a studentship for a Ph.D. on a specified topic that they wanted to investigate in collaboration with Dr Philip Ashburton of our Department. The work would involve spending the first year in the department developing the application, which was an important aspect of signalling technology. If that went well, the second year would be spent at the Rail-UK development labs at Oxtedborough, and the third year doing field tests at the Rail-UK test tracks in Nottinghamshire. Along the line, there would be the opportunity to sit professional engineering exams. Sensing that this was a unique opportunity, I at once said that I was interested. The Prof emphasized that the offer was strictly dependent on me getting a first, otherwise it would be offered elsewhere. 

At my next tutorial, I asked Dr Clarendon, my tutor, what Dr Ashburton was like. I had not heard any of his lectures, nor had he taught any lab classes. Dr Clarendon, who by now knew me well enough to know that I was gay, said that Ashburton was a brilliant researcher, but that if I worked with him I would have to be careful how I behaved, because he seemed to be a bit homophobic. That did not worry me at the time, I was just strongly attracted by the prospect of useful job-related research and an extra year in Camford. Besides, I knew that working as an engineer would bring much homophobic comment that I just had to learn to live with.

Because of the imminence of my Final Honour Schools exams in week 8, and the fact that lectures continued up to week 6 of the Pentecost term, I decided to spend the whole of the Easter vacation at Ixton or Camford, except for a week over Easter, when I would go home and take Dom with me. Dom would spend most of the Easter vac. at his home, except for a week immediately after the end of term. We spent that week in the flat at Fountain Street and managed a good balance of work and sex. Jon had tactfully gone to Rockwell's Barn. We planned our time carefully, going to bed at 11 pm and getting up at 7 am. We usually had sex before breakfasting about 8-30. Then we had four hours work, with a 15-minute break for coffee about 11. After a one-hour break for lunch, we worked till 4 pm. If it was fine we then went for a walk, if wet, we went to bed for an hour. At 6 pm, we went to the Sparrowhawk to eat, usually with one pint of beer, and watched television or a porn DVD in the evening. We did have one day off, where we spent the morning at the Fitness Centre and the afternoon at the Rialto. After Dom had gone home to Paradise Place, I moved to join Jon at Rockwell's Barn, where I spent the mornings and early afternoons working, then went for a walk, alone or with Jon and returned to eat a meal cooked by Jon. 

On the Wednesday of Holy Week, I went by train to London, where I was joined by Dom and we flew from Heathrow to Valerio-Catullo, where we were met by Massimo. My father shook hands with Dom in a friendly fashion, and I saw that he had accepted him as one of the family, even if he did not kiss him. At that stage, the only persons outside Dom's family who knew his identity were David and Jon, and they were both sworn to secrecy. 

We had decided that the time had come for us to tell my parents Dom's identity. Good Friday that year was cold, and after lunch we sat indoors drinking coffee. I said, "Mamma e Pappa, there is something I need to tell you. La famiglia di caro Domenico mio è nobile. He will become a nobleman when his father dies. Oggi Dom è Viconte, suo padre è Conte e suo nonno è Marchese. (Today Dom is a Viscount, his father is an Earl and his grandfather a Marquess). Only the Marquess is a nobleman, but Dom will become one eventually. At present, he prefers not to use his title. È molti soldi in sua famiglia (there's a lot of money in his family), but he intends to work for a living. His brother will inherit the estate and country house and eventually the title when Dom dies. His family are happy for him and me to become partners, because the succession to the title is assured by his two brothers. Any children we might adopt cannot inherit the title." You can imagine the sensation that this announcement created. 

Dom asked the Mascagnolis not to reveal his secret at present, but to conceal it until we eventually became partners. Massimo and my mother quite understood that Dom wanted to keep his title secret, and Bianca was sworn to secrecy. My mother kissed him in her amazement, and Dom smiled at her warm reception of his news. Massimo seemed bowled over by the revelation. "I would never have thought it!" he said. "Italy is a democratic country. We have hundreds of noblemen with titles acquired from the Papacy, the Italian monarchy, the old kingdoms of Naples, Sicily, Sardinia and Savoy and the old Austrian empire, but I have never met any of them. They do not lead the same kind of lives as ordinary people. In England, it is obviously different."

My grandparents were more religious than my parents, and I knew that it was useless to visit them on Maundy Thursday or Good Friday, but on the Saturday we got up early and took the train to Pisa, where Signor and Signora Mascagnoli lived. I knew that they did not know the secret of my parentage, and I had had five or six years to get used to the deception, so I did not care a shit if they accused me of immorality and sent me out of their house. 

My grandfather as a young boy had picked up a lot of English from occupying American soldiers after World War 2, and had continued to learn it at school. His enthusiasm for languages was stimulated when his son married my mother, and by then approaching retirement from his job as a teacher, he got a new stimulus to improve and practise his English. Unfortunately, my grandmother's knowledge of English was about the same level as Dom's Italian, i.e. more or less negligible! We got a bus to their house from the station, and it was with some trepidation that I knocked at the door. The intention was not to drop the bombshell at once, but to introduce Dom as an English friend in the first instance. We felt that they should judge Dom as a person, rather than presenting him as an appendage to me. Due to train times, we knew exactly when we had to leave. 

It was mid-morning, and my grandmother offered us coffee. I had always been fond of her and I was very worried that I would upset her. It was difficult to know when to actually break the news to my grandparents. Should we do it at once and risk several cold and frosty hours, or should we leave it until just before we left? I decided that after lunch was the best time. There obviously wasn't going to be much chance for Nonna to get to know Dom, due to the linguistic barrier, but he did try very hard. After lunch, I decided that I would have to tell them in Italian. So I said to them, "Nonno e nonna, I have something to tell you that you may not like. Domenico and I are in love with one another, and we hope in two years time to become civil partners. Si, scusi, siamo busoni." (Sorry, yes, we're gays). They registered different emotions. My grandfather looked shocked, my grandmother merely surprised. 

"Have you been teaching my grandson dirty tricks?" my grandfather asked Dom indignantly in English. We had told him that Dom was a couple of years older than me, so naturally he assumed that he had led me 'astray.' 

"Now, grandfather," I said. "Don't go blaming Dom. I led him astray! I fell in love with him within a couple of weeks of meeting him for the first time. He is a very honourable, well brought-up person, and his family are very respectable. When they got over the shock, they have accepted us as a couple and welcomed me into their family!" 

"And what do your parents think of this relationship?" he asked. 

"It took them a while to get used to the idea, but now they have also accepted Dom into our family." 

"It won't last, you know! He will find a man or even a woman that he prefers to you and you'll be left in the lurch with a broken heart! Gay relationships never end happily, and I think that it is God's judgement! Try and find a nice Italian girl and get married!" 

"Nonno, I'm sorry, but we are going to have to leave. I had no need to tell you about Dom, but because I love my father, I wanted the two of you to know. If you change your mind about me, tell Pappa and we will come and see you again. But there is nothing that you can say that will change things between Dom and me."

As we walked to the bus, I said to Dom, "Dom, I'm sorry that things have turned out this way. Massimo is such a kind and noble person that I expected that his parents would be the same. Obviously I was wrong. My father David had the same problem with his maternal grandfather, who was even more rude. He was a gay-hating and xenophobic Nazi sympathizer, who cut my grandmother out of his will because she married an Englishman." 

"What happened?" 

"David gave his share of his grandfather's estate to his mother. He didn't want the old man's money, which may have been dishonestly earned. Anyway, to change the subject, when we get into the town, there'll be just time to look at the cathedral and the leaning Campanile before we go for our train." 

When we got back home, it was almost time for us to return to England.

Chapter Sixty-eight: Sandro's final undergraduate term

There was not much time to explore the Camford waterways by punt that summer. Dom was busy in both lab and lecture room, I also had classes right up to week 6 of the term, leaving only one week before my exams began. So most of my evenings and Saturdays were spent in intensive revision, and when Dom was not engaged in academic work, he was reading. Occasionally he would go out with Jennifer to a concert or a film, but not often enough to give me any feelings of jealousy. She too had important exams that term.