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Eleanor Meets Tommy and Martin Pt. 01

By: WittePiet



This story is dedicated to the memory of Samuel Richardson (1689-1761), in appreciation of his book Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, the first novel about a girl who fights to get what she wants.

[The sex in this story starts rather late, so be patient and enjoy the preliminaries first. The fun will eventually come.]

*****

Chapter One

Introductions

My name is Eleanor Butterfield. My father, Emeritus Professor the Rev. Charles Butterfield, did not marry until he was 48, so when I was 18 and about to go up to university, he was approaching retirement as a parish priest. We lived in the vicarage of a small country village and I attended a high-powered sixth-form college in the nearest town.

My father had had a chequered career. He had been educated at the University of Oxbridge, and when he graduated with a first class degree in theology, he remained to study for a Ph.D. He was appointed a junior fellow and on the basis of numerous scholarly publications was eventually elected a full fellow of his college. After a year's sabbatical in which he received the necessary hands-on training to become a priest, he was ordained to a Fellowship of the college, first as a deacon and a year later as a priest. He continued to distinguish himself as a scholar and a few years later became a professor of theology in the University of Camford. His title was Hardwick Professor of Divinity, and he was attached as a professorial fellow to Saint Boniface's College in Camford. During this time, he submitted his publications for a Doctorate of Divinity, which he successfully obtained.

There he met a 30-year-old PhD student with whom he fell in love and married. When my father was in his middle fifties, my grandfather died and left him a great deal of money, such that even after inheritance tax had been paid, he became a wealthy man. By now he was weary of the academic rat race and with my mother's encouragement he resigned his chair and moved as a non-stipendiary priest to a parish in the gift of Saint Boniface's College. The Bishop of Fitchey attempted to persuade him to take on half a dozen adjacent parishes as well, but my father was adamant that one parish was sufficient, as he wished to continue with his scholarly work at the same time as the pastoral care ("cure of souls" in traditional Anglican parlance) of the small village of Winksey in which we lived. As he was not on the diocesan payroll, the Bishop could not object to this. Dad's ministry was happy and successful: he attended all the community activities that made up village life in Winksey, and in turn the villagers supported him at his church.

I was an only child and to my father's surprise, I decided in my teens to follow in his footsteps and become a priest. Accordingly, it was to read theology that I entered Saint Boniface's, my father's old college in the University of Camford. I think I must have inherited his intelligence, because by the age of 16 I was joining in the discussions which frequently took place in our hospitable vicarage between my father and our numerous visitors, who were essentially academics, childhood friends and interesting people whom my father or mother had met in the previous 20 or 30 years. My father, though elderly, was by no means stodgy or old-fashioned. He fully approved of the ordination of women in the Church of England and was delighted that his daughter was going to follow in his footsteps. 

In spite of all this rather old-fashioned-sounding background, my upbringing had been far from sheltered. Some of the guests who visited the vicarage were distinctly worldly, including actors and even a few politicians. My father in his private life never hesitated to use words that would be regarded by most people as unbecoming for a clergyman to say out loud, and although my mother put on disapproving expressions, she never objected to his use of coarse words within the family. She was just as clever as he was, but had to some extent sacrificed her career to his. However, she never seemed to regret this. What they both regretted, but were unable to do anything about, was the fact that they only had one child: me. This was in spite of what seems to me now (although as a child I never noticed it in detail but I suspected) to have been a very active sex life. It certainly seems that my father had decided to make up for all his years of celibacy, but to no avail! I was his sole success in the progeny stakes and all the more precious to my parents as a result.

I had had the disadvantage of attending an all-girls school up to the age of 16, and even in the sixth form college I was so busy working for my exams that I had little time to spare for boyfriends. So a motive that was one of my priorities when I went up to Camford was to meet members of the opposite sex.

Chapter Two

Eleanor's first Martinmas term at Camford

Winksey was not far from Camford and after a short train journey I arrived in Camford at the beginning of the Martinmas term early in the first decade of the twenty-first century. I found that I had been allocated a single room at the top of a staircase in the third quadrangle of Boni's, as Saint Boniface's College is known by most people in Camford. During the first week of term I signed up to join the college chapel choir. I had sung in the choir of Winksey church for as long as we had lived in the village and I had studied the piano up to grade 7. I had also at school chosen music as one of my A-level subjects. 

Four freshmen joined the choir that year: two men and two women. It was with great interest that I examined the male members of the choir at the session in the beer-cellar that followed the first practice. One man who sang tenor in particular caught my attention. He had dark hair, worn fairly long, a nice clean-shaven face, was skinnily built and wore a commoner's gown. While the college did not stipulate particular dress for Sunday evenings, it was generally the practice to wear fairly formal clothes such as a suit, and shoes rather than sandals or trainers. This man was wearing an Italian designer suit. Later when he was wearing jeans I noticed that he had a significant bulge in the vicinity of his genitals, indicating that he might be well-hung! You might think that this is an unladylike thought for a clergyman's daughter to have, but I have already explained that my upbringing was far from conventional and that colloquial, even crude language, was in use in our household. 

Freshmen in the choir were the only first-years allowed to go with the rest of the choir into formal dinner on Sunday evenings after we had sung Evensong. I contrived to get a seat next but one to the well-hung man, whom I heard his neighbour call Tommy. From the conversation, it appeared that Tommy was just back from Italy, where he had spent his third year as an Erasmus student. After dinner it was the practice for the choir as a body to take coffee in the junior common room before adjourning to one or other pub in the neighbourhood, where the rest of the evening would be spent. There were three rooms on the top floor of my staircase and the girl in the next room had also joined the chapel choir. As we walked to the pub, I asked her what her reaction was to the men in the Choir, both the new ones and the second and third years who were well established in the choir. "Well," she said, "some of them like Tommy Singleton-Scarborough are gay." 

"How do you know that?" I asked. "You've not been here any longer than I have."

"I've got good gaydar!" she said. "One of my brothers is gay."

"How do you know his name?"

"I saw him go into his room in the first quad. It's a ground-floor room, so I just read his name from the board."

I saw no more of Tommy for some weeks after this because I rapidly got involved in my academic work. My tutor, a man called Dr Alwyn Smith, kept me very busy. He himself was an expert in Hebrew and was not a priest or even an Anglican but was Jewish. Hebrew is by no means compulsory for Anglican ordinands, but I went along with Dr Smith's suggestion because it was an intellectual challenge. Even so, I found learning Hebrew rather a chore, because I had to purchase a Hebrew keyboard for my laptop. While it is quite easy to change the keyboard of a computer from a drop-down menu, that does not change the letters on the keys that are essential if you are learning a new alphabet. Writing from right to left however was quite easy on the laptop, and because I could touch-type, typing Roman letters on a Hebrew keyboard was no problem. 

Many of my academic choices during that first term were not exactly dictated but gently insisted on by Dr Smith. So I found myself attending lecture courses not just in Hebrew, but in moral theology and also (among other topics) in Middle Eastern history and the interpretation of ancient texts. To my disappointment the only male freshman in Boni's studying theology was a very stuffy, pompous, fundamentalistic and dogmatic young man, whom I was sure would make a very poor Anglican priest. I was certain that he and Dr Smith would not get on together. Not all students reading theology intended to get ordained of course, and a few were not even Christians. Lots of modules in world religions were available.

Chapter Three

Tommy and Eleanor get to know one another

Of course I got to know quite a lot of the female students in Boni's, and several of them became good friends. It turned out that almost all of us in our spare time, which was admittedly rather limited, thought obsessively about men. Like all women, we were all extremely interested in relationships. The tightly-knit community that exists in the Camford colleges has, since the advent of coeducation in the 1980s, fostered numerous close relationships between students, many of whom became partners for life. Hence much of the conversation between the girls both at dinner and at coffee afterwards, revolved round who was fucking whom, and this sort of discussion even extended to gay relationships. On a few occasions, Tommy Singleton-Scarborough's name cropped up, but we knew little about his relationship with his friend from Sanguis Christi College, until one of my female friends was hostess to a friend from another college at the Boni's biweekly guest dinner. She said that Tommy's boyfriend was a ravishingly beautiful redhead. "It's not surprising," she said "that Tommy is in love with him. He would make any woman drool with desire and I'm sure that men feel exactly the same way about someone who's so attractive. I wouldn't mind a night in bed with him myself, I have always been attracted by ginger hair! I suppose his pubic hair will be ginger as well!" 

"If he's 100% gay you might find it a disappointing experience!" I told her. "He might not even be able to get it up!"

"You fancy Tommy, don't you?" she asked with a grin.

"Yes, I'd like to get to know him as a friend, even if I can't have sex with him." I said. 

My chance came about week 6 of the term, when the choirmaster chose me as soprano soloist and Tommy as tenor soloist for the following Sunday's anthem. Tommy suggested that we have a couple of practice sessions on our own, and of course I agreed with alacrity. The first was held in his room on staircase 2 of the first quad. We had agreed that we should spend an hour running through our parts together, even without accompaniment. 

I turned up early at his room, hoping that perhaps his friend might be there, and even hoping that I might disturb them when they were up to something! However, when I knocked, he opened the door at once, and I could see that an Italian book lay open on the desk. I looked at the furnishings with interest. In addition to all the usual computer-related items, there were a lot of books, shelves of them in fact, a couple of landscape paintings on the wall and a single painting of a male nude that betrayed his sexual orientation. 

We had both brought our music and we began at once to practise our parts both separately and together. After half an hour, it became clear that we had made reasonable progress and Tommy said to me, "Would you like a cup of tea?" I agreed, and five minutes later, he reappeared with two cups of tea. 

"Are you dating someone exclusively? he suddenly asked, "or would you like to come out to dinner with me? I would like you to meet my friend Martin. You would be in no danger from either of us, as we are gay."

"But wouldn't your friend resent you inviting me out? Isn't your relationship a commitment?"

"Yes, it is, but it's not exclusive. Camford life is too busy for us to sit and gaze at one another. We have exams to do and careers to build before we can set up home together. We did share a flat out of college in our second year, but there are other things in life besides sex, even though our age group thinks of little else. I bet that you and your friends eye up men all the time, especially in boring lectures!"

"Let me get this clear," I said, ignoring his very shrewd comment, "you want me to come out and make a threesome for dinner with you and your boyfriend?"

"Just so," Tommy replied. "I hear that you're a parson's daughter. You're surely not wanting a one-night stand with me? Besides, I can tell you from experience that though college beds might be OK for sex, they are a dead loss for a couple to spend the night in together! But I'm quite happy to kiss you if you want me to!" And with that he leant over and kissed me on the cheek. (We were sitting beside one another on the sofa). 

My response surprised myself as well as him. I put my arm around him and kissed him on the lips. His response was gratifying. He put both his arms round me and kissed me passionately on the lips. Down below, I could feel his manhood stiffening as he pressed it against my body. I was amazed at myself. My lovemaking experience was, to say the least, limited. "Did you know how sweet you are?" he whispered. "I'm not one-hundred percent gay, you know. My big regret is that my darling Martin is not a believer. Maybe if I introduce you to him, you might be able to bring him to belief. Not that I'm asking you to, mind you. You might not like redheads, though I find him stunningly attractive." 

I was puzzled. What did this guy want? Did he want me for himself or for his boyfriend? "Let's just finish with another run-through, but yes, I will come out with you and Martin," I told him. 

"Good! We'll fix a date at our next practice. Shall I come round to your room for that?" We ran through the piece once more and arranged to meet before dinner for a second short practice two days later.

As I left, I felt helpless. This man was making all the decisions! This was in total contradiction to all that I had been taught. Liberated women make their own decisions about careers and relationships, they don't allow themselves to be dominated or manipulated. There is an old Dutch phrase that my father often used to quote (he had spent a sabbatical in the Netherlands a few years ago)baas in eigen huis master of my own house. 'I'm only nineteen' I thought, 'and Tommy is about 22. Why am I not taking the initiative in this would-be relationship? I hold the cards. He's given himself away, he likes me. I've not yet expressed an opinion in words, even though I did kiss him.'

Two days later, Tommy knocked on my door precisely 35 minutes before dinner. We ran through the piece twice more and were satisfied with our performance. "I think it's good enough to satisfy God, even if our fellow choir-members find fault!" I said. We had fifteen minutes before dinner, during which time we fixed the date for me to go out to dinner with Tommy and his boyfriend.

Chapter Four

Dinner for three

By now, it was the last week of term, and my college Progress Test was due at the end of the week. On the agreed evening, both of us having signed out of dinner, I turned up at Tommy's room at 7 pm, and we set out to walk the few hundred metres to Sanguis Christi College to collect Martin, who was waiting in the lodge. Tommy introduced us. "Martin, this is Eleanor, a first-year theology student and fellow member of Boni's chapel choir." 

"Pleased to meet you, Eleanor," said Martin politely, eyeing me up fairly intensively. Martin Robinson was indeed good-looking. His bright copper-coloured hair glowed, and he lacked the pasty complexion that so many redheads have, but he did have quite a lot of freckles. He was tall and slim, and like Tommy, smartly dressed. Speaking for myself, I was glad that I had changed into smart clothes. When we reached the Venezia restaurant, Tommy spoke to the staff in Italian, and we were led to a very nice table in a raised part of the room, so that we had a good view of many of the other diners. Tommy explained that as a native of Camford he had been a regular at the restaurant with his parents for nearly ten years. 

We discussed the difficulties that freshmen had of finding their way round the city and learning all the essential facts like the location of pubs, colleges, public toilets, safe bicycle parks and so on, that are essential to day-to-day life. Martin asked me if I was into sport, and I said no, that I had come to Camford to enlarge my mind rather than my muscles. He grinned. He had a most attractive smile. I could see why Tommy was smitten with him. I noticed that they were wearing identical rings on their fourth digit of their right hand. "Those are nice rings" I said. 

"Yes," replied Martin. "They are our commitment rings, to show that we regard ourselves as an item, even though we have not as yet got to the stage of contemplating marriage or civil partnership."

"As far as I am concerned," said Tommy, "it will have to be civil partnership. Marriage is a relationship between a man and a woman, and so I can never marry you!" 

I was interested in what Tommy said. He was expressing the official Church if England view of marriage, that it was between the two opposite sexes. However, I felt a bit gleeful that Tommy took this line, because clearly, Martin wanted to marry him. In practice in England there is absolutely no difference except in name between same-sex marriage and civil partnership, except for the confusion of applying terms like husband and widower (or wife/widow) to same-sex partnerships. Whether gays like it or not, marriage is biologically a heterosexual relationship because of its intimate relationship with breeding and propagation. However, I was anxious to get to know Martin better, so I was careful not to express my personal opinion on gay marriage, which insofar as I had thought about it at all, was similar to that of Tommy.

"I gather that you are just back from a year in Italy, Tommy," I said. "Where did you go and how did you like it?"

"After a very slow start, because I am not a very assertive sort of person," he replied. "I got to enjoy life in Padua. The university is very old and respected and the city is beautiful, so by the time the year was up, I was quite reluctant to leave, except of course I was aching for Martin, and keen to get back to him. But my Erasmus year worked wonders for my Italian skills and for my self-confidence. I love Italy now so much that I would like to follow my brother's example and get a job there."

"He didn't lack friends, either!" said Martin. "He formed a not-entirely Platonic attachment with a gay student who's going to come and see us next summer. But to change the subject, Eleanor, would you like to come to a concert with us in the first week of next term?"

Well, well. Another invitation to a threesome. Was I going to become fag-hag to these two boys? Yes! I was. Why not? It was not an exclusive relationship. If I met a man I fancied, I could always say goodbye to Tommy and Martin. So I agreed to go to the concert. These lads were good company and the programme looked excellent. 


Eleanor Meets Tommy and Martin Pt. 01



"The lead oboist in the band that's playing is a friend of ours," said Martin.

Chapter Five

The Christmas Vacation

My Progress test with Dr Smith went well. He particularly congratulated me on my progress in Hebrew. "It's not a popular study topic for women, so it's nice to meet a competent female student. Indeed, if you continue to make progress, you will very likely get a scholarship next year," he said.

My parents welcomed me home after my first term, and we had a very enjoyable Christmas. I was one of the servers at the Midnight Mass and held the gospel book. The whole village seemed to have turned out that year. There appeared to be no non-Anglicans left in the village (both the two chapels had closed years before). The next few days flew by and by the third week in January, I was back in college. 

Chapter Six

The concert

The concert was held in the Hall of Q College. The seats were of the modern stacking variety, and we were near the front. The boys very kindly seated me between them, so that they were unable to hold hands. This suggested to me that they wanted to make a special effort to make me feel comfortable, and that I should not feel that I was entering a different world, the world of homosexual men. The concert programme consisted of works by Haydn and Mozart suitable for a small orchestra. A few minutes into the first item, a piano concerto, Tommy got hold of my hand. A thrill went through me. I liked this boy. I gently manoeuvred my hand so that both our hands were on Tommy's thigh, as near to his crotch as I could manage without seeming to be a total slut. The idea was to send a clear signal to him that I was interested in him sexually. Men are often slow to get the message from a woman, particularly if they are gay. I looked at his face, but he seemed to be absorbed in the music. 

Reading this, you must think that I am indeed a total slut. Why should a nice girl waste time on a guy who prefers men? He seemed to have plenty of money, but then, so do I. Did I want to lure him away from his boyfriend, just out of nastiness or because I hated homosexuality? No, I just wanted to be close friends. Obviously, if he wanted to fuck me, I was not going to say no, and I always kept a packet of condoms in my handbag. But if he just wanted friendship with the odd kiss, that was OK as well. Both the men had nice figures and not particularly hairy bodies, free, so far as I could tell, of tattoos or piercings. 

When the music ended, Tommy withdrew his hand to applaud, and so did I. He then took my hand, replaced it on his thigh and smiled at me. Clearly he did not resent my attentions. But I noticed that Martin had seen what he did and was frowning. I found it hard to analyse my feelings towards Martin. I liked his red hair and his figure, but I knew from what he had said on other occasions that he was not even slightly interested in women. The schemer in me wondered if it would be more of a challenge to try to seduce Martin. However, I reckoned that I had done enough for one evening. 

The concert ended at 10-15, and we went for a drink afterwards at a nearby pub, the Sparrowhawk. We arranged to go to the cinema the following Saturday and dine at the Hang Zhou Chinese restaurant afterwards. After one drink, Martin invited us back for coffee in Sanguis. Having ascertained our respective tastes, he made the coffee and having supplied each of us, he sat down beside me on the sofa. "Did you enjoy the concert, Eleanor?" he asked. I made a suitably informed reply and looked him full in the face. His freckles seemed to glow, and he gave no signs of resentment of Tommy's attentions to me as he smiled sweetly.

By now, Tommy and Martin were only six months short of their final exams. However, they would not be leaving Camford. Tommy had been accepted to do a Diploma in Education (training to be a schoolteacher), and Martin was hoping to do either an M.Litt. or a Ph.D. So my chances of getting to know them better were not as limited as I had thought. My friends in college used to tell me that I was wasting my time chasing a known gay, but I pointed out that (a) sex was not the only reason for friendship with men, and (b) that fag-hags know that they are unlikely to be tempted or threatened, which can make for a much more comfortable relationship. To some extent of course, both these statements were false as far as I was concerned!

Chapter Seven

Eleanor's first Pentecost term

The Candlemas term passed quite quickly, our threesome went out together once a week, to a concert or to the cinema, or sometimes just to eat together. We ended the evening by having coffee in either Boni's or Sanguis. I think that we grew closer together as a result, and we began for example to celebrate each of our birthdays. Easter being early that year, I was home early in March. The vacation was spent busily reading and practising my Hebrew. Although at that time, most university exams still used handwriting in the exam papers, because of the awkwardness of the script, the Hebrew exams mandated the use of laptops and keyboards, but the laptops were university property: students were not allowed to use their own. They were crude 'netbooks' which could not access the internet.

My own exams were to be six three-hour written papers at daily intervals over the last week of term and the first of the summer vacation. I did not go out much either with my female friends or with the boys, although Martin used to join Tommy and me when we went out drinking with the chapel choir after Sunday dinner. We also spent one evening a week on the river, as the college owned several punts. The boys soon taught me how to propel a punt (it is very easy once you know about three basic points), and we would navigate the river to the Carp pub at Stubbington, tie up the boat, purchase drinks and enjoy them sitting on the terrace beside our boat. Those summer evenings are among my most cherished memories of student life in Camford. I could enjoy friendly and affectionate male company without any romantic overtones.

Just before the exam period, it was a tradition at Boni's to hold a College Retreat. It was open to all matriculated undergraduates, but mostly made use of by final year students, to enable them to take stock over their lives as they left the ivory towers and dreaming spires for the wide, wide world. In some ways, students were contemplating a bigger change in their lives than the transition from school to university. The retreat was open to college members of any religion or none. Naturally, Tommy signed up for the retreat, and so did I. It was a day retreat from 10 am to 5 pm, held over a weekend in the house of a religious order on the outskirts of Camford, a short bus or cycle ride from college, where we ate our breakfast and dinner. No activity was compulsory, except that total silence was enforced for the whole day, except for a half-hour break at lunchtime when conversation was allowed. One could join the sisters for their prayer offices, or their Sunday mass, or read in the library or garden, or simply sit or walk and meditate. Lunch was bread, cheese and fruit with a cup of coffee or a glass of water.

My participation in the retreat was not targeted at Tommy. I had begun to experience doubts about my vocation to the priesthood, and I needed a couple of days without academic distractions to ask myself serious questions about whether my career hopes came from a desire to love and serve Jesus Christ, or simply as a pleasant way, for someone with a private income, to live in a town or village as a public figure and to lead public worship. In particular, was my personal desire for sex with a gay man going to make me unsuitable for the life I was considering? Suppose for example that I married Tommy? It goes without saying that Martin would live with us, as both he and Tommy needed to fuck each other. A ménage à trois was hardly compatible with vicarage life. The clergy, as public figures, inevitably attracted curiosity by their parishioners about their private lives. 

Of course, it was not possible at the retreat to make any definitive decisions about my life or vocation. Nothing I had done was irrevocable, and my sexual hopes and fears might never be realized. I had not yet been accepted as an ordination candidate, and there were many alternative graduate jobs available. So after a lot of hard thinking, I decided that my objective for the next two years had to be to get as good a degree as possible, irrespective of career or relationships. That meant that I must NOT fall in love with either of my gay friends.

On the day of my last exam, the boys were waiting for me outside the exam hall with a bottle of Prosecco and carried me off to an early dinner at the Venezia at which I was persuaded to remain in Camford until the following week (we could keep our college rooms until the exams were over), so that I could join them when they took Prosecco to each other after their respective exams. No exam results would be available until early August, after which we all had appointments to see our respective tutors.

I had decided not to seek employment during July, until the exam results were known. I didn't need to earn money. My father, with an eye to inheritance tax, gave me an allowance of £5K to spend each year in addition to the monthly allowance that I got during term. However, I stashed this money away in case I needed a large sum to finance perhaps a gap year after I graduated and before I went for my year of full-time residential theological training for the Anglican (Episcopalian) ministry. Besides, Anglican clergy are not well-paid, and I would need extra money to finance my present comfortable lifestyle if I became a parish priest. 

What I did with the money was not the concern of the tax authorities. As long as my father gave away the money and survived for seven years, it was not taxable on his death. For the rest of the summer, I was going to work in a care home in my local village. The work is demanding and badly paid, but I needed to do something to help others, and the care home was always short of staff, so I was not taking away the job of anyone who desperately needed the money, poor as it was. Conditions in some care homes are bad, for residents as well as staff, but I had worked before in this particular home, and I knew it to be well run. I had reserved two weeks in September for a holiday, but had made no plans as to where to go.

Chapter Eight

The Summer of Eleanor's first year

My exam results were sent by E-mail. I was delighted to find that I had done well enough in the exams to qualify for a college scholarship, which meant that I was in the top 10% of all who were sitting the exam. I went up to Camford for a day to meet my tutor. Again, that could have been done by E-mail, but I rather fancied a day in Camford and a meeting with Tommy and Martin. I had arranged to meet them in Camford when we went up to see our respective tutors. 

Dr Smith was very nice to me, gave me a glass of sherry, and said he knew of a second-hand scholar's gown in good condition. He said that he would get it for me and I could collect and pay him at the beginning of term. He asked if I wanted to offer him my commoner's gown in part-exchange, and I agreed. "I'm not in the second-hand clothes business as a general rule, but I like to encourage my good students!" he said with a grin. "It's not every year that one of them gets a scholarship. You're showing signs of doing as well academically as your father. He was a colleague of mine for some years."

I thanked him and left. I rang Tommy on my cell-phone and we arranged to meet at the Sparrowhawk for lunch. When I got there, Martin was there as well. "I'm staying at Tommy's for a week or so, as my father and stepmother are in Italy at the moment," he said. "They've rented a villa and are spending most of the summer there. They will come home for the beginning of the school term in September, but their rental runs till the end of that month, and they've offered it to Tommy and me to do some reading in September. Would you like to come for all or part of the time? The pattern will be reading for three days per week, holiday for the rest of the time. The villa has a nice pool and the temperatures in September are nice and warm."

"Please come, if you can," added Tommy, "we'd love some female company. It will prevent us from indulging in too much sex and alcohol! The villa is near a station, and even without a car there are lots of places to visit!"

"How were the exam results?" I asked before answering their invitation. 

"Great!" said Tommy. "Martin got a first and I've got an upper second. Martin's tutor told him that there is a vacancy for a Ph.D. student in classics, if he can get finance. His father is going to give him the money to do a one-year M.Litt. If he gets that OK, he will try for funding to turn it into a Ph.D. I will get a bursary to do the Dip.Ed., as trainee teachers are subsidized. Moreover we can get college accommodation in the graduate annex if we need it, which we will. But are you going to come with us to Italy?"

"I can't come for the whole month," I said, "but I'll come for the last two weeks. What's more, I will cook for us a couple of nights a week, as we can't eat in taverne all the time."

"Right!" said Martin. "Maybe we could cook a meal together. But before that, in August, Tommy's Italian friend Matteo is coming to stay in Camford for three weeks, and we will spend ten days in Octavia Avenue, and ten days at Rockwell's Barn, Tommy's country home at Ixton."

Chapter Nine 

A visit from Matteo

The boys were looking forward to the visit of their Italian friend Matteo. They were determined to give him a good time, seeing the sights of Camford, as well as introducing him to the English countryside in Ixfordshire. They went to Gatwick to meet him, rather than letting him navigate the Thameslink rail service on his own. David and Jon were away in the Netherlands, so they had the house in Octavia Avenue to themselves. They took him on the river and visited the churches, colleges and museums. 

He told them that he had got fixed up to do his Laurea Magistrale (Masters degree) in Professor Sescantanto's department in the University of Trabizona, starting in September. "I met your brother's partner, Dottore Appleton," he told Tommy, "and I may even do a project with him!" 

"Did he know who you were?" asked Tommy. 

"Of course! We met him when you took me to the opera in Trabizona, and he remembered my face."

"Yes, gays always remember handsome faces!" said Tommy with a grin, and gave Matteo a quick kiss. "Did you see anyone there that you fancied? Sescantanto's department attracts a lot of gay graduate students, because they know that they will not be discriminated against. But it's a good place to work, with a Europe-wide reputation."

While David and Jon were away, Matteo joined the two men to sleep in their king-size bed. Naturally, they had a sexual threesome quite regularly, at least once per day. This varied in what they actually did. Sometimes Tommy and Martin fucked while Matteo watched and wanked. Sometimes Matteo had sessanta nove (69) with either of the others, while the third jacked off, while sometimes either Tommy or Martin let themselves be penetrated at both ends simultaneously. In the latter case, it required some practice to acquire the skill for both the penetrators to synchronize their orgasms. Matteo of course, because of his aversion to anal, was always the one with his cock in the mouth of his partner. They all enjoyed sleeping three in a bed. Generally Matteo found himself in the middle between the other two, and giggled quietly when anyone farted.

The three of them tended to eat out, rather than cook a big evening meal, so in Camford they ate at the Venezia or the Sparrowhawk, and at Ixton in the Jellycotes Arms. The weather was good, and the three of them were able to enjoy the numerous walks round Ixton. It was with great reluctance that Matteo returned home. His longing for a regular partner had increased and he hoped desperately to find the right man when he got to Trabizona.

Chapter Ten

What should a girl do?

I wondered what my parents would think about my spending two weeks in Italy alone with two men. It was not as if we were staying in a hotel. In the old days a woman spending time unchaperoned with men was regarded as a virtual whore. It was ingrained in social morals that a man and a woman alone together would inevitably have sex, to the extent that a married person who spent a night alone in a house with a person of the opposite sex was assumed to have committed adultery without any other evidence being necessary. My father of course had no problems with what I was going to do. "You are an independent adult with great intelligence. You can judge for yourself whether there is any risk in what you are doing. If you fear rape, then don't go. If you are sure that these are nice boys only interested in one another, it's up to you to make the decision. If you feel like sleeping with either or both of them, that is your decision too. I assume that you have a supply of prophylactics! Of course, they might just be looking for someone to do the cooking and cleaning! That's a point that you ought to bear in mind."

My mother was more concerned about my reputation than what I might actually do. I told her that if no-one in the family talked about it, how could there be any gossip? Moreover, I was not looking for a man to keep me. I had a private income and hoped to become a clerk in holy orders (the legal description of a priest). "But what about the selection panel for your ordination? The Bishop is not going to lay hands on a known whore."

"Mother, what about my spiritual wellbeing? I have a conscience. I'm not going to do anything that will bring me or the Christian faith into disrepute. The job I want to do as a priest means that I must set an example by my life, and I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize that!" This bit of plain speaking seemed to convince her that I knew what I was doing. 

The fact was that if either of these boys (or both of them) wanted to fuck me, I was quite prepared to let them. But it was much more likely that they were only wanting to fuck one another. But of course, I had no idea what might actually happen, and even if I had had, I would never have told my parents! They understood that it was my life and having warned me, they trusted me not to do anything stupid. My own feelings were that, given encouragement by Tommy, I could well fall in love with him, but unless Martin was prepared to share him with me, I knew I must try not to fall in love. I had two further years in Boni's, followed by a year in a theological college for professional training, and I was keen to get a good degree. Being in love is a major distraction from academic work. Several girls in my sixth form had underperformed in their A levels because of love affairs.

Chapter Eleven

The villa in Italy

The villa was in the Apennine mountains, near Arezzo. Arezzo was by origin a populous city of the Etruscans in the pre-Roman era. It became Christian in the fourth century and remained independent until conquered by the Florentines and became part of the grand duchy of Tuscany. It was the birthplace of the celebrated architect Giorgio Vasari. Martin told me that he loved the city because of its Etruscan origins. The villa was in a small village some 10 km from the city. The village however had a regular train service into the city, from which Florence could be reached by fast train in 40 minutes. 

The villa had four bedrooms of which the boys occupied the largest and most luxurious. But my room was also pretty huge for one person. The two men had met me at Amerigo-Vespucci-Firenze airport off my flight from Luton and escorted me by fast train to Arezzo and then by local train to the village. When we arrived, I washed and visited the toilet and joined my hosts on the terrace, where a glass of cold Prosecco awaited me.




Eleanor Meets Tommy and Martin Pt. 01



"I'm afraid that there is only one bathroom in the villa, although there are three toilets," said Martin, as senior host. "So you won't have to share a stinky toilet with us, only the bathroom itself." This was a relief to me. At least I would not have to put up a permanently raised toilet seat! "We hope that you will join us in the pool," he continued, "but please tell us in advance so that we can wear swimming trunks. Normally if there's just the two of us, we swim naked. We don't mind if you see us naked, but you might prefer not to!" 

I was really nonplussed by this comment. Did I want to see these boys' cocks? On the whole, I thought not. Better only to see one if it was about to be used on me, otherwise not! So I made no reply, and none seemed to be expected. To have said yes would seem to have been inviting them to use it! The rest of their bodies I would no doubt see in due course.

The boys gave me a very pleasant time. Some nights Martin and I cooked, and the three of us used to make visits to the village shops and market to buy supplies. We needed Tommy to translate, otherwise it would have been much simpler for the two us to go. The produce that we bought was perhaps slightly expensive, but was always of superb quality and freshness. On days when we went out, we ate at the trattoria. We visited several archaeological sites, because of Martin's interest in the Etruscans, we saw all the interesting sites in Arezzo, especially the cathedral, we had a day in Florence, having prebooked to get into the Uffizi Gallery, and we visited Assisi and trod in the footsteps of Saint Francis. 

One day we decided to rest and read. In the afternoon, the boys went into the pool, while I sat and read. Since I was not in the water with them, the boys swam naked, and I looked at them from time to time from my seat on the patio. They really were a beautiful pair, living examples of beautiful Greek male statuary. After half an hour they came out of the water. Both had erections. They hastily wrapped themselves in towels and told me that they were going to bed for an hour, and not to 

disturb them! Even with the towels, it was clear that they both had big dicks.

It was perhaps very deceitful of me, but I very much wanted to see what they got up to. Maybe they were over-trustful, because the balconies of our two bedrooms interconnected, and they had neglected to draw the curtains. I had soft-soled sandals on my feet and I crept silently along the balcony and peeping in from the side, I could see clearly into their room. I felt like Fanny Hill in John Cleland's novel when she stood on a chair at an inn to watch through a crack in the wall two young men in the adjacent bedroom fucking. But unlike Fanny, I was not filled with fury and condemnation at two men engaged in the vile act of buggery (not that Cleland would ever have used such a vulgar word in his stories!), I was just curious. They had thrown off the bedclothes, and Tommy was kneeling on the bed on his hands and knees, and I was just in time to see Martin roll a condom onto his dick. He then took a tube of lubricant gel from beside the bed and used three fingers to poke it into Tommy's anus and around in the surrounding arse-crack (which Tommy was obligingly holding open with both hands). Martin then climbed onto the bed and pushed his hard fuck-stick deeply into Tommy's hole, and got to work vigorously. I had a good view of both their arses. There is something about the male posterior that is extremely attractive to women, especially if it is smooth and relatively hairless. Tommy's was actually much hairier than Martin's. 

I realized in my role of voyeuse that I was experiencing a sight that was unknown to most women. This gave me a thrill, though obviously not a thrill as strong as those experiencing the sex. I could hear Martin panting and grunting, and Tommy groaning with pleasure. If I had been a man, I would have been as hard as nails. As it was, I found it quite erotic. It did not strike me as ridiculous, certainly no more than a man and a woman having sex would have looked. Suddenly Martin was convulsed with an orgasm and began to cover his partner's back with kisses. He slowly withdrew his dick from Tommy, flung himself on the bed beside him, and pulled Tommy on top of him. He resumed kissing him and Tommy began to wriggle as he rubbed himself against Martin's belly. I could see Martin's hands clasping each of Tommy's buttocks. After a couple of minutes, Tommy came with a shout as he squirted jism all over his partner. As he relaxed and began to kiss Martin, I quietly retreated to my room, collected a book on Old Testament studies and slipped back into the sun on the patio. I heard the bathroom shower going. 

I felt guilty at what I had done. I had seriously invaded the privacy of two friends whom I liked. It was quite clear that I could never talk to anyone about what I had seen, so you, dear readers, are the beneficiaries of hitherto undisclosed observations. I knew now what gay men did together. It did not revolt me: on the contrary I was touched by the evident tenderness between these two boys, and I envied them the strength of their relationship. However, at the same time I found myself wishing that it were I rather than Martin who had been on the bed with Tommy.

During the second week, we did some walking and visited only a few other places. Martin and I made a good team together in the kitchen and we got to know one another much better. By the end of my visit I had spent sufficient time together with each of them for us all to feel quite close. Deep within me, I regretted that no sex had taken place, but the very last thing that I wanted to do was to break up a strong and loving relationship. Any sex would have had to be consensual among the three of us, and we had not yet reached that stage, but Tommy I knew was not averse to the idea of closer relations. 

I reckon that I was very lucky for my first experience of men to be with two such untypical examples. My mother had always told me that the reason she stayed single until she was thirty was because she had not met the right kind of man. "Men in general are always self-centred and crude: they're sloppy dressers and many are obsessed with drink and football. Moreover, most of them are preoccupied with sex. Even gays, who can be smart dressers, polite and well mannered are sexually obsessed, even though they don't want to get into the panties of the women they meet. I was so glad that your father, though by no means undersexed, is totally untypical. Of course nowadays you don't have to be married to get sexual experience, but leopards do not change their spots, so it's best to date men with whom you have cultural, aesthetic and intellectual bonds before considering them as bed sharers!"

This wise, if rather obvious, advice was of great help to me in contemplating the male undergraduates of Boni's. 

Moreover, the opportunity to go out with two men at once was rather enjoyable. If I had been a more sophisticated woman, I would have enjoyed playing Tommy and Martin off against one another, but to be frank, I liked them both too much to do that. You may, by reading between the lines of what I have written, have concluded that I was sexually inexperienced, and probably a virgin, and you would be right. So was I being realistic in hoping that one of the men might want to fuck me, or did I deep down really know that the chances of a gay male wanting it were quite remote? Was I indulging in fantasy? Moreover, if either of them did, would he want to enter me by the back door? And if so, would I let him?

TO BE CONTINUED



Eleanor Meets Tommy and Martin Pt. 02



There is quite a lot of straight sex in this episode. Feel free to skip any paragraphs in which you are not interested.

*****

Chapter Twelve

Eleanor's second year begins

Two weeks later, I was back in college beginning my second year. Hebrew was reduced to only one lecture course per week, and I started on New Testament studies, including NT Greek, ecclesiastical history and moral psychology. Martin had registered for an M.Litt. and was starting his study of Etruscan texts. Tommy had begun his teacher training. He was hoping to teach French, Latin or Italian up to A Level, or GCSE mathematics, at which he had always been rather good. Kenneth, their friend, had decided to reduce his musical activities, in an endeavour to get the major part of his Ph.D. work completed. 

After our successful culinary operations in Arezzo, we decided to have an evening together each week at Tommy's home in Octavia Avenue, when Martin and I would cook a meal for the three of us. This inevitably meant that I would meet Tommy's parents, even though they usually arranged to dine in college on the nights that we wanted to cook! I instantly took a liking to the two men, who were now approaching sixty, and had been together for over thirty years. Like Tommy, they were religious, they were also kind, thoughtful, polite and easy to talk to. I was warned that one of them, the one called Jonathan, whom Tommy called Pop, the chemist, was rather uninhibited about farting, but he must have restrained himself when I was present, as I never heard any loud anal noises. His partner David, whom Tommy called Dad, was a retired opera singer who now taught singing. 

They made me feel quite at home in their house, and never asked the boys or me any awkward questions about relationships. Their eldest son, Luke, more than ten years older than Tommy, had had a fag-hag when he was on his year abroad as a student, and his boyfriend Tom had had a lesbian fag-hag in Camford when Luke was in Italy. Luke's biological brother Sandro and his partner Lord Batley had had a fag-hag called Jennifer. The main role of these girls was to go to concerts with their men-friends. So the role of fag-hag was something that both of them understood, even though, Tommy told me, they had never had one themselves.

Towards the end of the Martinmas term, the three of us decided to invite David and Jonathan to join us for the meal that Martin and I were cooking. In the interests of simplicity, we decided to cook steak, but to make the dish more interesting, we cooked lots of interesting vegetables, including cauliflower, celeriac, and mange tout peas in addition to a madeira-wine sauce and a big helping of fries. Tommy had chosen a couple of bottles of Barolo from his parents' cellar.

Tommy's parents were impressed. "Who did all the work?" David asked, "Eleanor or Martin?"

"I did the vegetables and the dessert, and Martin did the steak, the sauce and the chips." The dessert was a fruit pie that had been baking in the oven all the time that the first course was being prepared, and for which I had even made the pastry.

During the meal, David told us that he was about to resume public singing on a very limited scale, with most performances during the university vacations. Previously his recitals had become quite rare events. "But I miss singing!" he said. 

It was during the meal that I discovered that Tommy would be away from Camford for the whole of the Candlemas term. He would be on teaching practice in both primary and secondary schools all over Camfordshire and Ixfordshire. It struck me that this would give me the opportunity to get to know Martin better. But before that, I received an invitation from Tommy to come with Martin to spend Christmas at Ixton. I accepted on the understanding that I could leave in time to spend New Year at home in Winksey. Tommy then said to me, "I need to meet you before Christmas to rehearse the entertainment for the night of Boxing Day. You and I are going to play a duet on the piano at Rockwell's Barn. Then I'm going to accompany Dad in a couple of arias.

Chapter Thirteen

Christmas at Ixton I

Ixton turned out to be a small village about 100 km from Camford. It was clear that Tommy's fathers exerted a lot of influence in the village. They owned the pub, the Jellycotes Arms, and ensured that the village shop/post office received a subsidy sufficient to keep it open. They had even managed to ensure, thanks to the living being in the gift of Boni's, that they had a full-time resident vicar. 

Although there was no squire and big house, their long-standing residency and generosity had ensured their popularity in the village, to the extent of them buying up residential property in the village and renting it to locals at affordable rates rather than letting it fall into the hands of wealthy commuters. David and Jonathan set the rentals at a level to cover costs and running repairs, such that they never made any money from the properties. The properties were managed by a local estate agent recommended to them by their financial manager and adviser, Tim Ingledown. Rockwell's Barn had once been a derelict agricultural building on the farm of the Rockwell family, with whom Jon and David still had close ties. Tommy told me that to avoid crippling inheritance taxes, Tim Ingledown was setting up a non-profit-making trust to administer the properties after the deaths of both Jon and David.

A few days before Christmas, I travelled by train from Winksey to Ixfordingworth, the nearest town to Ixton. Tommy met me at the station and quite spontaneously kissed me. I had two suitcases with me, because I had brought Christmas presents for the party at Rockwell's Barn. He then set off to drive the ten kilometres to Ixton. It was 3 pm, and dusk was showing signs of falling. To my surprise Tommy pulled into a side turning and stopped on the verge. 

With hindsight, the conversation that followed seems almost surreal. He said to me, "Do you fancy Martin?" I nearly collapsed in amazement.

"What makes you think that?" I asked. 

"You spend so much time with both of us, but we're both gay. Unless you're frigid and scared of sex, I can't see why you're doing it. If you're wanting sex, you're wasting your time with Martin. He could never get it up with a woman, even if he wanted to."

"But what about you? I bet that you could fuck a woman." Tommy blushed.

"That's not a very ladylike thing to say!"

"Answer my question! I'm not a ladylike woman. A man who's 100% gay would never kiss me spontaneously, like you did just now. Can't you see that it's YOU that I fancy?" And I put my arm round him and kissed him on the lips. I was aware that once again I was reversing traditional sex-roles and wooing, instead of being wooed.

"I can't let Martin down. We have a commitment to one another."

"I'm not asking you to abandon Martin. Does your future with him involve children?"

"Yes, we both want children."

"And where do you think you're going to get them from? You can't have babies without a woman!"

"Don't be ridiculous! We could have a child using a woman as surrogate."

"I think that's disgusting. It's treating a baby as a commodity and your seed as an inoculant. What you need is a baby with a mother and two fathers!"

"Look, Martin and I are just starting out in careers, we can't consider Civil Partnership and children yet. As for you, you've got nearly two more years of degree study and at least three years of professional ministerial training yet, if you include your training curacies. And in your case you've got to develop a career before thinking about things like maternity leave."

"It's all right for you two, you can fuck one another till the cows come home without interfering with your careers. As usual, it's a man's world. Any relationship that I get involved in cannot lead to pregnancy for a long time, but I still need sex!"

"Are you asking me to fuck you?"

"Yes! But not unless Martin knows and understands. He has to be prepared to share you with me. If not, I will just walk out of your lives and look for another man. My friends tell me that I'm mad to go chasing after gays." 

"Oh Eleanor, why ARE you chasing after Martin and me? You make things difficult for yourself as well as us. Why not go and find a pious young male ordinand?"

"I don't know any! Not many men under thirty get ordained these days. And if I did, he would be a virgin. I want to be fucked by a man who knows what he's doing. I don't want to learn how to do it from someone who knows as little as I do. I know that you are a sweet and considerate man, and so is Martin."

"So you're a virgin then?"

"You could put it that way, yes!"

"So is Martin, as far as women are concerned. He's never had the experience of lusting after anyone with a cunt. He told me so himself. So he would not meet your requirements!"

"But you would?"

"Technically, yes."

"But not without Martin's agreement I hope! I don't want deception."

"Look, Eleanor, this conversation is getting nowhere! Let's forget the whole matter and go on as before."

"Not unless you talk to Martin about me! Can't you see that I want you? What sort of man would say no?"

"Joseph said no to Potiphar's wife!"

"Yes, but Potiphar's wife did not ask her husband for permission! I do not, repeat NOT, want you unless Martin agrees. I respect your love for one another and the commitment that you have made to one another. I'm making you an offer that you are both highly unlikely to get from any other woman. If you want children in the future, I'm your best bet. OK, so we will have to wait a long time, and OK, it might turn out that I can't have babies, but there's no reason why we shouldn't start fucking, or even think about marriage as soon as we have finished our degrees. Oh, and you can tell Martin that my offer to you is also open to him. If he decides that he wants to have it off with me, he's welcome, even though he has zero experience of doing it with a woman. I like him so much, I can make an exception about previous experience. I'm struggling to avoid falling in love with both of you! Don't forget that this threesome was your idea! You asked me to come out with the two of you."

"I can't believe that we're having this conversation! It breaks every rule of human relationships. You are proposing a love triangle! I will talk to Martin. But not until the New Year. We can't have any emotional upheavals at Christmastime."

"Fine. I'm in no hurry. It's more important to get things right than to leap into bed." And with that, Tommy started the engine and we drove off. By the time we got to Rockwell's Barn, it was dark.

Chapter Fourteen

Christmas at Ixton II

I was impressed by Rockwell's Barn. It had only five bedrooms on two floors, all with en-suite bathrooms, one occupied by Jon and David and one by David's parents, leaving three available for guests. That year there were no young children staying, so Tommy and Martin had one room and I had another, leaving a single small bedroom vacant. There was a small prayer room that Tommy and his parents used for their devotions, and the ground floor had a big kitchen, a dining room, a large entrance hall and a fifteen-metre indoor pool with changing facilities.

Breakfast was available all morning in the big kitchen and adjacent dining room, but guests had to cook anything hot themselves. I wandered in one morning about 9 am to find only Martin there. I took the opportunity to kiss him good morning. He did not recoil: indeed, he kissed me back. As that was the first time that I had ever kissed him, I was happy and gratified. I didn't ask where Tommy was, I was glad to get Martin alone. He asked me how my course was going. I said that I was enjoying it, but that I was glad that I had now finished with Hebrew.

"Would you like me to cook you an omelette?" he asked.

"That would be nice." I replied. "Do you know, this is my first Christmas away from home?"

"With me, it's just the opposite. Since my father remarried, my parents have spent every Christmas in Madeira. They reckoned that since Tommy and I got together, we would be more comfortable here. So although we are not officially united, I've become an additional son to Jon and David, and we always spend Christmas here. I love it here in the countryside." 

I envied him. To be part of a huge gay/straight extended family seemed to me to be an ideal existence. But the prospects of such an occurrence in my case seemed remote. Basically, all three of us needed to build careers before we could think in terms of any kind of union, except perhaps sleeping together sometimes.

Martin cooked two omelettes and we sat down at the table to eat them. "Tommy's in the pool, swimming naked with his two fathers. Mr and Mrs Scarborough are having breakfast in their room. They often do. I didn't feel like swimming first thing this morning. Tommy and I live too much in each other's pockets. But that will change when he goes on teaching practice."

"I hope that you will continue to go out with me while Tommy is away. I don't constitute a threat to your relationship. I admire and respect it. Why don't the two of us take a turn in the pool when Tommy and his parents come out? Not naked of course. I'm not a prickteaser."

"It wouldn't make any difference if you were. I can't get an erection with a woman. OK, we'll have a swim about half-past ten."

Although I am not obsessed with clothes, I do like nice ones. And the same goes for swimwear. Many men would describe my size 12 figure (US size 8) as skinny, but my two-piece swimsuit suited me rather well, and would have impressed most men, but of course not Martin. Martin took me by surprise. He wore an extremely brief bright green swim slip that left little to the imagination. It had a half back and indications of the presence of a sizeable package at the front. Wisps of ginger pubic hair showed at the edges of the swimsuit. I had not seen it when we were in Italy: it was obviously new. I found later that it had been a present from Tommy, who dressed very smartly. I knew that Martin was a good swimmer, whereas I was merely competent. Life in the countryside means life away from swimming pools! What country clergyman could afford a private pool?

We swam leisurely up and down the small pool for half an hour and then got out of the water. Martin solicitously wrapped a towel round my shoulders and started to pour coffee from a vacuum flask that he had previously prepared and we sat down in plastic chairs at the poolside to drink it. 

As usual, his handsome figure with just a little ginger hair on his chest and under his arms, looked wonderful even when wet, and I looked him in the face and said, "Martin, I expect that Tommy has told you that I would like a long-term relationship with the two of you. I have no desire or intention to disrupt the commitment that the two of you have to one another, I would just like to join in. I know that you can't fuck a woman, but Tommy can. I envy you two the sex that you enjoy with one another and I wonder if either or both of you could share some sex with me. But any arrangement has to be entered into willingly by both of you. If this is impossible, I will, with great reluctance, walk out of your lives."

Martin replied, "Tommy and I both love your company. As far as sex and long-term relationships are concerned, we have not yet made up our minds. I promise that by the beginning of term, we will have decided, which will give you plenty of time to find someone else to fuck you! Now, how about some more coffee!" He poured me a second cup and went off to the men's toilets for a pee. When he returned, he poured himself a second cup and started to dry himself. It was interesting to watch how he wriggled as he towelled his wet back and to savour the view of his slim smooth arse as he bent over to dry his legs. He was undeniably sexy. Although nothing had been settled, at least neither of the two men had told me to get lost.

The question remained however, why was I doing this? Lots of girls of my age have two regular boyfriends, but they don't go out with two men at the same time! Why did I not just find a nice, clean, intelligent ex-public schoolboy—Boni's was full of them—and go to bed with him? Actually, I knew the answer. These two were not just attractive sexually, they were intelligent, hard-working, loyal, good-mannered and socially responsible. Either would make a good husband for a vicar. But they were not the marrying kind! I had to take care not to fall in love. That would constitute a major distraction and could lead to academic disaster. So if instant sex was not available, I would have to wait. Fortunately, getting fucked was not a need, but a wish!

Chapter Fifteen

Christmas at Ixton III

The Christmas festival seemed rather an anticlimax after these discussions. We all, including Martin, went to midnight mass in Ixton Parish Church. It seems that Martin had been confirmed quite young at the private school that he attended before he got himself expelled, but had largely abandoned religious practice. I sat next to him in church and, rather to my surprise, he held my hand. Maybe he sought reassurance.

After a late breakfast, we all gathered in the big sitting room to drink Prosecco and open our presents. I had spent a lot of money on the boys, because I considered that they were worth it. I bought Tommy a 64-Gb iPad, and Martin a boxed DVD set which was the first part of a new release of the complete operas of Vincenzo Bellini. There was a credit note with it to pay for the subsequent albums in the series as they were released. Each of the boys bought me a single pearl earring set in platinum surrounded by a circle of tiny diamonds. "We thought that platinum suited you better than gold!" said Tommy. I thought that the twin presents cleverly summarized their relationship with me. I kissed each of them gratefully.

Christmas dinner was served at 3 pm. The meal had been cooked by Jon and Martin, assisted by me. David asked me to say grace, so I said the Boni's college Latin grace, which most Boni's students know by heart. The words were deeply familiar to all those present except Martin and David's parents. As usual, all the three wines were Italian. After the meal, the family spent an hour on Skype or FaceTime with the family members who were not present: Tommy's adoptive brother and sister and their families, Luke's biological brother Sandro and his half-sister Bianca and their families and David's brother and sister and their families.

The evening was spent watching television. The next morning, Boxing Day, we got up early, split up into groups and went for a walk. David's parents only went as far as the pub, but the rest of us went for quite a long walk. I was shown the first wood to be planted by Jonathan Singleton-Scarborough's Afforestation Trust some thirty years before. The trees were now pretty mature, and the woodland, even with leafless trees, was still very attractive. After a couple of drinks at the Jellycotes Arms, we all returned home to a late lunch of cold turkey and salad. In the evening, we had a musical entertainment. David sang three arias, accompanied by Tommy. Then Tommy and I played a piano duet, Tommy played primo and I played secondo (the bass part). After drinks and coffee, we had an early night.

Two days later, Tommy ran me to Ixfordingworth station, where I caught the train home. My parents were glad to see me, even though they had had several guests staying over the festive period. My expensive earrings were admired without comment. When I was in Ixfordingworth, I had looked in jewellers' shop windows and realized with a shock that the earrings must have cost well over £1000. So either the boys were extremely fond of me or else they were trying to buy me off! It was clear to me that I would get no advice from my parents about my two boyfriends unless I asked for it. I decided that I must wait and see what transpired. So in the two weeks before term began, I got on with the reading that I had neglected before Christmas. New Testament Greek was going to be hard work.




Eleanor Meets Tommy and Martin Pt. 02



Chapter Sixteen

Eleanor's second Candlemas term

The day that I got back to college, I sent an SMS to Martin asking him whether he would like to go to a recital by a highly regarded tenor in Camford town hall the following week. I was a bit shocked by his reply. It was an E-mail and he wrote: "Sweet Eleanor, Tommy and I have had a discussion, and we feel that we need to see what life is like without you. So please don't invite me out this term, and any E-mails must be limited to one per week, except for your reply to this one. And no phone calls, please. That applies to both of us."

I was bitterly disappointed in this reply. I knew that next year Tommy would be working and Martin busy with his Masters work. However, if they missed me, there would be the Pentecost term and the summer for us to resume our dating and without exams, I would have a bit more freedom. In the meantime, I resolved to crack the complex grammar of Greek and generally immerse myself in work. My girlfriends were after all still there to go out with. I went to the recital I just mentioned on my own. It was excellent, and worth the effort of attending alone, although I regretted not having anyone to discuss it with.

As the term went by, I began to miss the boys more and more, particularly on Sunday nights, and I realized how much I had come to rely on them, not just for company, but for sensible discussion on music and other everyday matters. Although I did not feel that I was in love with either of them, I realized that they had become an important part of my student life. The girls on my staircase noticed that I was lacking male company, and I found it difficult to explain what had happened. Then one Sunday evening at the end of February, Tommy suddenly appeared in chapel. 

After the service, he did not seem to want to avoid me, so I walked with him to the beer cellar before dinner. He explained that it was half-term in Camfordshire schools, and he had a few days off. He said that although he could not speak for Martin, he himself had missed me. "I wasn't aching for you like I was for Martin, but I really missed your sweet company. I do not find the company of schoolteachers very exciting. They are either juvenile in their mindset or cynical about their jobs."

"And how are you finding teaching?" I asked him. 

"I've been lucky so far. There have been no 'sink' schools: indeed some of my placements have been in private schools and sixth-form colleges. After half-term, I'm going to an academy that is basically a revamped sink school, and that will be my test. I'm wondering whether I should have chosen primary-school teaching. I find teenagers quite hard work."

"You'd find them even harder work if they found out that you were gay!" I remarked caustically. "Let me buy you a drink," I said. "I've really missed you and Martin. Going to concerts on my own and no male company at mealtimes is a real wrench. Maybe you can persuade Martin to give up this separation." 

I was a bit worried that Tommy seemed to be making rather heavy weather of teaching. I had always had doubts about his vocation to teaching. Of course he had no reason to work for a living, he had a comfortable private income, but earning a living is not the only reason for working. Work is an essential part of all human life, and an enormous source of satisfaction and even enjoyment to most human beings, at least in the western world. Then a thought struck me: maybe he should consider teaching English in Italy, perhaps even to adults. Of course, that would make things difficult for both Martin and me if we wanted relationships with him. I decided not to mention the idea at this stage. Maybe Tommy would think of it himself.

We went into dinner with the choir, who were all glad to see him, albeit only for one night. After dinner, Martin turned up. Although he was glad to see us both, he told us that my 'boycott' would continue until the end of term, even though he admitted to missing going out with me. I wondered how much of the boycott was due to him and how much, or little, to Tommy.

My tutor, Dr Smith, commented that I seemed to be working a lot harder than in the previous term. I told him that I was currently without the distraction of male company. He urged me, as all my friends had done, to find a new man or men, and while he did not in as many words advise me to have sex, it was implicit in the things that he said. Camford tutors seem to think that regular sex is good for academic performance, though they would never admit to advising students to that effect!

The term dragged along, and when the end came, I got an alpha in my Progress Test. I at once rang Martin, who told me that Tommy still had two further weeks of his placement before the school term ended. However, Martin invited me to come for a drink before I went home to Winksey. We arranged to meet at the Lion, the nearest pub to Boni's. I was there first and was just approaching the bar when Martin entered. To my amazement, he came up to me and kissed me. "I'm sorry for the last term, Eleanor. I really missed your company!"

"So why didn't you let me go out with you?" I asked.

"Because I thought that you had your eye on Tommy, and he's mine!"

"I know he's yours, and I've told him that although I do have my eye on him, I won't do anything or let him do anything without your knowledge and consent. Besides, what effect could you and I going out to a film or concert have on Tommy in Italy? I know that you not going to make love to me."

"I was determined not to let you have your own way!"

"I really like you two. It's not just Tommy I'm after, I'm after you as well! Besides, when Tommy gets a teaching job, he'll probably have to leave Camford, and you won't see one another every day. You might appreciate my company then!"

After a pleasant evening, we said goodbye to one another and arranged that I would come to Camford for a day soon after Tommy finished his school placement.

Chapter Seventeen

The Easter vacation

A few days before Easter, I took the train to Camford and walked the short distance from the station to Octavia Avenue. Tommy had now finished his teaching practice, and he and Martin welcomed me with enthusiasm and we walked along the Camwell river towpath to the Carp at Stubbington for lunch. Although the trees were steadily putting out leaves, it was still too cold to eat in the garden. We sat in front of a roaring log fire and drank unchilled beer. 

"It's absolutely wonderful to be in the company of intelligent people!" said Tommy. "Martin, you don't know how lucky you are to be intending to spend the rest of your life in the company of such people. Schoolteachers, however good they may be at their jobs, and some I have met are very good, are often small-minded and narrow in their outlook. Take for example what happens to boys who think that they are gay. In the last school I was in, they got very short shrift and little help or support from the teaching staff. Those boys were immensely courageous to put up with the teasing and horseplay that their contemporaries gave them and generally had a rough time. The only time that they got any support was that violence and overt bullying were firmly clamped down on. Gays were allowed to stay at their desks for an extra half hour and seen off the premises by a tough no-nonsense teacher in case they got ambushed. That was in the school that encouraged its gay students to come out. Most of the other schools I was in encouraged their gay boys to stay in the closet."

"I think that is really the best way to deal with the problem at school level. A lot of boys who think that they are gay don't realize that almost all adolescent boys fall in love with one of their friends, but most grow out of it as they get older."

"Yes, but I'm the big exception!" said Tommy. "In spite of all the efforts of Carol, I grew INTO being gay, thanks to you, Martin." 

"What do you think, Eleanor? asked Martin. "Have you ever fancied a woman?"

"No, never. But I do fancy both of you two boys! I'll sleep with either or both of you any time!" 

I admit that that was a sluttish thing to say. Most girls would have been horrified if they heard a girl say that. But these two boys did not turn a hair, though they did not fail to comment on it!

"But surely you need to be in love to make that sort of comment," said Tommy, "and it doesn't augur well for a long-term relationship if you don't love a man that you sleep with!"

"Can't the two of you see that given the slightest encouragement I could easily fall in love with either of you? But it wouldn't do any good to fall in love with Martin if he can't get it up with a woman!"

Martin said, "I don't believe that falling in love is an act of will. On the contrary, it often happens against people's wishes."

"Look, Eleanor," said Tommy "I don't think that a woman losing her virginity is any big deal nowadays, what with contraceptive pills and readily available condoms, but surely the man you give yourself to for the first time has to be someone whom you respect if not love."

"I respect each of you. I think that for your age, even you, Tommy, are capable and mature. Unlike you two, my career choice prevents any permanent same-sex relationships."

"I have to admit," said Tommy, "that you have logic on your side. I wasn't in love with Carol when we were fucking, but it didn't stop either of us enjoying it! At least, I think she did. It's not easy to get feedback from a woman!"

"Yes, YOU enjoyed it, but a man can get pleasure just from jacking himself off. He has no basic need for a second party involvement!" The pub was quiet that lunchtime, which was just as well, as our conversation was better not heard by third parties!

"Tommy, you'll be back in college next term, and it will be your last residence in college. Are you going to take the opportunity, IF and only if, Martin agrees, to have a go at fucking with me?" More sluttishness on my part!

"I'll think about it," he said. 

Martin grinned. "It's OK as far as I am concerned," he said. "Tommy, you know what it's like to want sex. Men can always jack off if they can't fuck, whereas unless women resort to a dildo, there's nothing they can do. This is a bit outrageous, Eleanor, but we have a spare dildo if you'd like to borrow it!" 

Tommy said, "Eleanor, I do advise you to take the dildo and play with it. It will get you used to the feeling of a dick inside you. Although I have fucked a woman quite often, I have no idea how she felt. And another point that we have not yet discussed, which might make a lot of this discussion redundant, is that we can begin by you giving me head. That's easy for anyone to learn, because there are only about three rules to remember. Men enjoy it nearly as much as fucking, and women can enjoy it and learn to like the taste of spunk, even if you choose not to swallow it. Mouth before cunt!"

We all then agreed that when the time seemed right, Tommy and I would make love. We had analysed the whole situation almost to death, and it was vital to keep an element of spontaneity in our coupling that precluded discussing when, where and how. However, I did agree to take the pink dildo.

Chapter Eighteen

The boys' final term

I spent Easter at home. My parents had been pleased with my alpha at the end of the Candlemas term, and I was busy preparing for the following term. I also practised with the dildo in the privacy of my bedroom. It was a very good one, the sides had lumps and veins just like a real dick, and I spent as much time with it in my mouth as up my vagina. 'Pity it isn't flavoured, I thought, 'they make flavoured condoms. Why not flavoured dildos? Or [and this I thought was a genius idea] a stick of barley-sugar in the shape and size of a prick? (Strictly for oral use of course!).' I realized of course that a dildo could only substitute for a circumcized tool. So far as I knew, no-one had invented a dildo with a foreskin. One thing though was immediately apparent to me: while it is good for accustoming the body to sexual penetration, it is no substitute for a hot, blood-filled male organ!

After the discussion I described in Chapter Seventeen, I made time during the vacation to read two important novels on male and female homosexuality: E.M. Forster's Maurice and Radclyffe Hall's Well of Loneliness. I enjoyed the Forster much more than the Hall.

Soon I was back in Camford for the Pentecost term. May and June that year were gloriously warm, and trips on the Camwell took me away from quite a few lectures. I tried to programme my river trips with the boys so as to miss my most boring lectures! But river trips were not the way to achieve my objective. Although sex is possible in a punt, and my girlfriends all knew someone who had done it, the sheer discomfort of anything but a quick blow-job made me highly disinclined to try it. My intention was to get Tommy to fuck me first and if I could make him enjoy it, which I knew would mean doing a lot of unladylike things, I would then try it with Martin. If I could enjoy fucking with Tommy, I could probably learn enough to get Martin to manage it.

However, that term, Tommy had his diploma exams and the release to him of the reports on his teaching practice. He was rather anxious about the outcome. I think that, deep down, he doubted his vocation to teaching. The results were released to the Dip.Ed. students very quickly, in order to facilitate them finding jobs. He had done quite well in his exams, and was obviously capable of doing the job, but the general trend of the reports was that he was not really suited to secondary education, and should be looking for teaching jobs in the state primary or independent prep school sector.

Chapter Nineteen

Eleanor's first sexual experience

The picture that I have painted of Tommy does not really do him justice. He was handsome, slim, very attractive, well-mannered, and highly intelligent. But at the same time, he was not easy in the company of people outside the close circle of his family and friends. Some people would say that he had a weak personality. I could see why he was attracted to Martin, who had all the confidence that Tommy lacked. I knew that both his family and Martin worried about his lack of ambition. I could see that he was drifting into schoolteaching because of a lack of ideas about what he wanted to do with his life. His stay in Italy, Martin told me, had vastly increased his self-confidence and sense of direction. I was convinced that he needed a job in which he could exercise his skills in the Italian language. So before the of the term, I determined to take advantage of him still living in college to pop round and talk to him about his future.

So one evening after dinner, I invited myself round to his room in the graduate annex for coffee. He had told me over dinner that he had been offered a teaching job on a one-year probationary contract. The school was a well-known and expensive private prep school in Cleobury, a small town some 40 km from Camford, called the Wyverne School, teaching both boys and girls from seven to thirteen, before they proceeded to a boarding school. The probationary contract struck me as a good idea, as it gave both sides an opportunity to assess his competence, and the age group involved seemed rather less challenging than in a state primary or secondary school. My gut feeling was that he would probably not enjoy it, and it would force him to reassess his career intentions. I was also aware that he would need support during this period, support that Martin would not be able to give him. In other words he needed the support of a loving woman. Martin would not be able to appreciate his difficulties. 

It was clear that Tommy was very anxious about his future, and I decided that now was the moment to give his morale a boost. We were sitting on his sofa, so I cuddled up to him, put my left arm round him and began with my right to caress his crotch. He smiled happily, so as soon as I felt his dick beginning to harden, I pulled the zip of his jeans down, revealing his dark red silk underpants. He obligingly lifted his arse so that I could pull his jeans down to his knees, followed rapidly by the silk briefs. In that way his cock was visible, hard as a rock and to my amazement, already oozing precome from the slit. He made no attempt to resist, and I determined to try what I had always fancied, but could not practice with the dildo, which was to nibble his foreskin. 

The other thing that was novel was his scent. Because, unlike Martin, he did not use gay fragrances, he smelt mainly of musky male sweat, which if fresh, is very attractive. Clearly, he had showered that morning, because there was no scent of stale urine or spunk. He giggled in delight at my gentle nibbling, and encouraged by his response, I moved down and began to lick his balls. He squealed with pleasure, so I started to lick the sides of his tool, and played with his rolled-back foreskin with my lips before taking the glans into my mouth. I held his dick with my lips round his foreskin while I licked the smooth head. Considering that this was a totally new experience for me, I was amazed at how easy it was to give him pleasure. He gave a few wriggles of satisfaction, but did not attempt to fuck my mouth. I couldn't help thinking that I was journeying where Martin must very frequently have gone before, and it was encouraging that it was clear that Tommy was not reacting disappointingly.

I realized that the dildo had not really helped me when confronted with a hot, throbbing, resilient piece of male anatomy, because it was the wrong consistency and could give no feedback! It might help by stretching the muscles of my vagina or anus, but was no use in pleasuring Tommy. I ran my tongue over the veiny, lumpy stick of male meat and began to chew it gently. The reaction was decidedly positive. Tommy pushed his man-stick harder into my mouth and began to make fucking movements. He got hold of the back of my head and gently but firmly held it as he rammed his cock into my mouth and partially withdrew it, before pushing it in again. I could see that he was sweating with desire: the armpits of his shirtsleeves were drenched with sweat and he was breathing noisily and rapidly. 

After a couple of minutes he came with a shout and I got a mouthful of his man-juice. I had researched blow-jobs on the internet and knew that if I were to enjoy giving head, I would have to swallow Tommy's jism. It did not actually taste of very much: just slightly salty. The smell however was not unpleasant. Not being male and not having any brothers, it was not a scent that I recognized, but I knew that the aroma of sweet-chestnut flowers was something that I needed to get used to and enjoy! Having swallowed his load, I licked his limp tool as clean as I could, before taking a tissue out of my handbag to dry him off. He smiled at me gratefully. "Martin doesn't do that!" he said, "he just leaves me to wipe it off with my hanky or else takes me to the shower."

"I wish we were in bed together!" were the next words that he uttered. "Sex is an exhausting business, and I wish that we could just curl up and go to sleep. But I know that college beds are impossible for two to sleep in without one of us falling out." I kissed him with my come-covered lips, so that he could taste his own spunk. He took me in his arms and kissed me numerous times on face and neck.

Many people would consider that I had degraded myself. There is a widely held view that while it is OK for a woman to let herself be fucked by a man, it is somehow dirty to give him head. Nice girls don't do it. This argument is based on the blatantly false view that it is "natural" to poke a penis into a vagina, but to poke it into an anus or a mouth is perverted and dirty. A lot of this childish thinking was exposed to me in my religious psychology lectures, when it was pointed out that the first male humans must have tried (and presumably used) all these bodily orifices with both men and women before they eventually discovered that only one method of penetration of a woman by a man's prick led to pregnancy. This, coupled with primitive society's loathing of spilt body fluids, whether urine, semen or menstrual blood, led to the development among primitive religions of sexual taboos. I was glad that I, destined for the priesthood, did not for one moment think that I had done anything wrong in pleasuring a man for whom I had a great affection. Indeed, I was very pleased that I had made Tommy so happy. I made a mental note to ask discreetly among my girlfriends how many of them had done BJs. 




Eleanor Meets Tommy and Martin Pt. 02



When I finally got round to doing this, several months later, most of them said that the advent of the pill had made non-vaginal sex totally unnecessary. They said that blow-jobs were for teenagers, or for poor people without access to contraceptives. Personally, I thought that such comments betrayed their bourgeois upbringing. It betrayed a total lack of understanding about male psychology. I knew that men felt differently about BJs. To them oral sex is not a way of avoiding pregnancy, but a source of pleasure to both parties involved. I knew in particular that with the right technique on my part, I could persuade cunt-shy Martin to let me give him head, and during the summer I was going to have a try.

Chapter Twenty

The summer vacation

Tommy was to begin work at the Wyverne School in September, and he been advised to attend a two-week induction course early in August. I was going to spend some time working in the care home, and two weeks at a summer school in Utrecht in July on "The Concept of Sainthood in the Middle Ages", an ecumenical theological study group. Martin was busy with his Etruscan history, and was frantically applying for doctoral funding. However, we were determined to organize a walking holiday for the three of us for three weeks towards the end of August, staying in hotels or hostels. I had also set aside three weeks for reading, as my final exams were just a year away.

TO BE CONTINUED