1 comments/ 5986 views/ 1 favorites Tom and Luke's Final Year Pt. 01 By: WittePiet [John Cleveland (1613-1658) was one of the most popular metaphysical poets in the seventeenth century, but later fell into obscurity until his work was rediscovered in the twentieth century. Abraham Cowley (1618-1667) was a contemporary. Both men were on the King's side in the English civil war. Cleveland was put in jail by Cromwell, Cowley went into exile as secretary to deposed Queen Henrietta Maria.] Chapter Fifteen September in Loxton For no particular reason, I have decided to begin this part of the story in a pub in the northern English town of Harrogate. Harrogate is a high-victorian spa town, full of select tea-rooms, opulent hotels, upmarket shops and the full panoply of spa buildings. To take the cure in Harrogate was the solution to the unhealthy lifestyle of wealthy Victorians. The town is famous as the resort to which Agatha Christie fled during a period of depression following her marriage breakdown in 1926. We had been brought there for the day by my boyfriend Luke's grandparents, and we were having a quick lunch before walking through the famous Valley Gardens. Mr Scarborough, Luke's grandfather, told us that he was retiring the following year and to mark this fact and his and his wife's fortieth wedding anniversary that fell in the same year, they were proposing to organize a big family reunion. They had originally planned to hold it at Loxton, but had decided after discussion with Luke's Dad, to have it at Rockwell's Barn, which was bigger and could make use of the additional accommodation at the Jellycotes Arms in Ixton to house some of the party. The swimming pool would be boarded over and the room would comfortably house a big party. Luke said, "Tom and I were planning to sign the Civil Partnerships Register next year. Maybe we could do that at the same time, while all the family are present." We all agreed that September would be the best time. Our Final exams would be out of the way, and my M.Chem. dissertation would be well in hand, though probably not submitted. We felt that Luke was the best person to assist his grandfather in organizing the event. The holiday we were enjoying with Luke's grandparents gave me the opportunity to really get to know my future grandmother. She was the first woman of her age-group that I had met who seemed completely comfortable with the idea of two men wanting to become life-partners. This was probably due to the fact that Luke's parents had lived happily together as an item for 25 years, and formed a textbook example of the success of gay unions. Mr Scarborough was delighted when I told him that I had become a catechumen. He shook my hand and then kissed me and said how glad he was that I had come to know the love of God. I told him that his son could take some of the credit for me coming to faith. During our year apart that had ended only a month before, the lives of both Luke and me had been made considerably pleasanter by having our loneliness relieved by each of us having our respective 'fag-hags.' But my Margaret and Luke's Leonora were not typical women of our age group. Margaret was a lesbian and Leonora had a vocation to become a nun. So we got companionship without any risk of sexual involvement. However, we did not talk to our families about our fag-hags, in case they might think that our friendships might lead to romantic relationships! Mrs Scarborough was a kind, understanding lady who from day one had loved Luke's cofather Jon, and seemed to have taken a similar fancy to me, in spite of us seeing relatively little of one another. Luke was particularly precious to Mrs Scarborough, because there had been a moment when as Dorothea's bastard son, he, their first grandchild, might have been adopted by a pair of total strangers, and they would never have seen him again. Only the availability of Dorothea's brother David and his partner Jon as adoptive parents had spared them that. Hopefully, the presence of Dorothea and Massimo and their children at the reunion would heal the wound created by that event. The grandparents had never seen Alessandro and Bianca. The following day, back at Loxton, I was talking in the kitchen to Mrs Scarborough and Connie her home-help and we discussed the future of us two boys. I hoped to do a Ph.D., but there was a lot of doubt about Luke's future job. He might do well enough to do research, but clearly what he really wanted was a job in Italy. It was inconceivable to both of us that we should start our lives together as partners separated yet again. It looked as if I would have to look to doing research in Italy, which would mean that I would have to start learning Italian. The month with Luke's uncle Jeroen's two children had given me a start, but it would take a long time for me to get competent. It would have been perfectly possible for both Luke and me to have gone without jobs for the rest of our lives, living on a comfortable income from the Singleton family trust funds. But both Luke's parents had the traditional work ethic that "if you don't work, you don't eat" and there was no question of Luke living on family money with me as his kept catamite. In any case, I didn't want to find myself in the role of the Emperor Heliogabalus's muscular blond-haired charioteer boyfriend Hierocles. We both had too much self-respect to live lives of idleness. David's parents, our hosts, would certainly have frowned on any attempt of their grandson's to live a life of idleness. Certainly my own money from Jon's mother, a surprise gift from a year before, although enough to ensure my financial independence for a few years, and more importantly, to give me the necessary financial security to be able to ask Luke to be my life-partner, would, as my sole source of income, have lasted only about five years. Besides, I wanted to become a chemical researcher, not a kept boy. I was determined that when the time came for Luke and me to tie the knot, there should be a maximum of witnesses, not just from Luke's family, but from all our Camford friends, both male and female and my wonderful sister Liz, who had saved me from a life without prospects. There was however no question of inviting my father to our ceremony unless he got rid of his whorish female companions, nor my elder sisters who had made no attempt to contact me since our mother's death six or seven years before. We would push the boat out with a lavish party after the low-key event at the Registrar's. The blessing service however that we hoped to hold, would be confined to family only, and not necessarily all of them. But that was a problem for the future. Both Luke and I had our university final assessments within ten months, and success in those was the number one priority. Chapter Sixteen The Edmund Heptinstall Educational Trust At the beginning of the previous academic year, conscious of my changed financial circumstances, I had written to both the Student Loans Company and the Edmund Heptinstall Educational Trust, explaining that there had been a change in my financial circumstances and that I no longer needed their financial support. Getting the student loan terminated took months: the barely competent loans company seemed unable to understand why, as I was continuing my degree course, I no longer needed financial support. As it was, they refused to let me repay what I had already received, and insisted that I should continue to repay the outstanding balance after I had graduated. The Edmund Heptinstall Trust wrote back thanking me for informing them, and saying that my two years undrawn future grants would be used to support another student in difficult financial circumstances, and saying that the Trust itself was in financial difficulties, and in order to support its existing commitments, it would be suspending new bursaries for the next few years. I was horrified at this. With the increasing costs of university study, it seemed a tragedy that poor students were going to be deprived of a very useful source of funding. I mentioned the matter to Jon, who said that it sounded as though the Heptinstall Trust needed financial support, and he would get Tim Ingledown to investigate. It was several months before Tim's enquiries were complete. It turned out that the Trust had been bedevilled by a series of problems. A dishonest Managing Secretary had misappropriated several hundred thousand poundsworth of funds, and criminal legal action against him was pending. Until that had taken place, recovery of the stolen money was delayed, and might never take place. Added to this, the Trust's money had been invested in poorly-paying bonds, and was not bringing in an optimal income. Tim suggested to Jon that he make a loan to the Trust of a million pounds, secured by a short-term mortgage on its properties, with the proviso that when a conviction had been secured against the former employee and the embezzled funds repaid, the loan would become a grant and the mortgage cancelled. Tim also said that he had in mind a good and honest man to move in and take control of the Trust's management, and that his appointment should be a condition of the loan. He added that of course the present trustees would have to be got rid of. This, he said, would not be difficult, as he could threaten them with personal liability for the stolen funds if they did not resign. He had already compiled a list of suitable replacement trustees. These included two retired headmasters from state schools, one from a 'public' (i.e. private) school, Jon in his role as an academic, two retired building society managers and a non-retired unit trust manager. The man Tim had in mind to chair the new board of trustees was called Howard Smithson. All these individuals had expressed their willingness to stand for office, and would be put forward at the Trust's next Annual General Meeting. All that was lacking was a new Managing Secretary. Jon said to me, "What about Mr Silverdale?" I replied, "But he's just got the job at the Afforestation Trust!" "Yes, but I think he only took that job because it was secure and pensioned. It does not offer any challenge to a man like him. He hasn't yet started in his new job, and he's got the right educational background for a job with the Heptinstall Trust. I'm in control of the AT, and I have a lot of pull with the reconstituted Heptinstall Trust, as the major stakeholder in the new group, so I am off to the north tomorrow to talk to Bernard Silverdale in person about this. I envisage that the Trust will be run by a troika of him, myself and Howard Smithson." Needless to say, Mr Silverdale jumped at the offer. He had had contacts with the Trust before over several years, which is how he secured my undergraduate bursary, and was very disappointed to hear about its present situation. Jon set up a meeting with himself, Tim, Bernard and Howard Smithson. The trial of the accused employee was due to come to court in November, and the intention was to have a Special General Meeting and a new board of trustees in place by Christmas. This was facilitated by a development in late October, when the accused decided to plead guilty and offered to pay back his ill-gotten gains over the next two years. Mr Silverdale told Jon that one of the most important targets for the Trust had to be soliciting regular donations, rather than existing on its investment income. Jon said that he would start the ball rolling with a no-strings promise of £25K per year. He said that he had made very few large charitable donations since his establishment of the Afforestation Trust, the Drystone Walling Trust and the Camford Men's Fitness Centre all of twenty years before, and the Heptinstall Educational Trust looked a very suitable object for a big cash injection, particularly in view of his increased wealth in the meantime. The intention was to select by a series of written tests, totally unrelated to school subject assessments, from lists of persons who had been offered places at the best universities, girls and boys from impoverished backgrounds who would benefit from an entirely free undergraduate course, with fees and a living allowance paid. The grants would thus be substantial, and limited in number according to the Trust's income. The idea was that the receipt of one of these scholarships would be a distinction in itself, and the only condition was that recipients must promise that as soon as their annual personal income after graduation exceeded £50K, they would thenceforth pay 1% of their pre-tax income to the Trust for a period of twenty years, or for the rest of their lives, whichever was the shorter. This figure would reduce to 0.8% after gift aid tax allowance. If their income after ten years from graduation had not reached this level, the Trustees had the discretion to vary the size and frequency of repayments or waive them altogether. The only permitted alternative to this repayment pattern would be a one-time release payment of £50K. The idea was to stimulate ambition as well as excellence in children from poor homes. Another intention was to free them from the taxpayer-subsidized claws of a state-directed student loan. There would always be an exactly equal number of male and female recipients, who would be styled Edmund Heptinstall Scholars. Any mistakes the Trust made in selecting scholars would be reflected in its long term income. Jon would not bail them out a second time! Chapter Seventeen Tom and Luke's final year begins One month later, early in October, we were ensconced in our duplex college room with the en-suite bathroom that our scholar's status gave us, the only one of its type in college and which we had previously occupied in our second year. Looking back over our three years as students at Camford University, it seemed amazing to us that we had been partners for two-and-a-half of those years, and engaged for just over a year. In some ways, as we had got to know one another more intimately, our love for one another had grown, especially now when we were just reunited after Luke's year in Bologna. We were still pretty hungry for one another, even two months after his return. Indeed we had only just reached the stage of being able to keep our hands off one another in the presence of other people! I have never in these pages tried to give an accurate description of Luke. He was not ravishingly beautiful, no curly-haired blond like his adoptive father David had been. He had lustrous brown eyes, he was dark-skinned in complexion and his long, slightly wavy hair was also very dark, and his beard that he had grown after his spell in hospital after the Bologna earthquake was intensely black. The following words of the poet John Cleveland, with the pronouns changed, sum up my darling boy: 'And yet because 'tis more renown To make a shadow shine, he's brown, — A brown for which Heaven would disband The galaxy and stars be tanned; Brown by reflection as his eye Dazzles the summer's livery.' I was beginning to have reservations about Luke's beard, because the moustache definitely interfered with kissing. But every morning when he kissed me awake (we did not sleep together, as the college beds were too narrow, but I was bad at getting up and needed him to awaken me in the mornings), the beard used to tickle my face, and it was a rather enjoyable feeling to waken up to. He had put on a little weight in Italy, but as it seemed to be mainly on his limbs rather than round his belly, and to be muscle rather than fat, he actually looked better for it. I think the Mediterranean diet had done him good. He now weighed 75 kilos, and his improved musculature looked good when we were at the Men's Fitness Centre, or when I was washing him under the shower in our bathroom. One thing that you the reader will not need reassuring about is that Luke's build and hair were not the only things about him that attracted me. He had a big mass of pubic hair, just as black as the hair on the rest of his body, and out of the centre of it protruded his enormous cock. It was 50% bigger than my own male organ with a big and deliciously chewy foreskin. From this picture you can be sure that although there have been no sex scenes so far in this part of the story, my love for my faggot-boy was far from contemplative. For, as Cleveland elegantly expresses it: 'Love that's in contemplation placed Is Venus drawn but to the waist.' Although Luke was eminently fuckable, he was no mere sex object. His cock came into action up my rear-end nearly as frequently as I fucked him. By about the third week of term, it became clear that Luke's facial hair was an impediment to our lovemaking, and after some discussion we agreed that he should get rid of moustache and side hair and retain just a small neatly trimmed goatee. The few barbers in Camford who had originally shaved customers had disappeared rapidly during the AIDS epidemic, so dealing with Luke's beard was a DIY job. I went out to a medical supplies shop and bought a pair of surgical/dissecting scissors made by a traditional firm in Sheffield of the finest quality steel. Using these, I cut the hair on his cheeks and on his upper lip as closely as I could. Then he took three brand-new razor blades and shaved his cheeks and upper lip. A final trim of the goatee at the barber's completed the task. Although he looked a bit Mephistophelian, the combination of his long hair and short goatee was prick-raisingly attractive, and he had scarcely set foot in our room before I had him under me on my bed! One of the big advantages of my cash windfall from Mrs Singleton was that I could now pay my own subscription to the Fitness Centre. We both tried to manage three visits to the pool each week, one being the after-hours employee session on Tuesdays. I could still wrap his slender (some would say skinny) body in my arms, and we still slept like that when we shared a bed. I no longer got weekly tutorials with Dr Vaughan. He arranged that we should meet just three times per term (one of which would be my end-of-term Progress Test), with only two essays, as I would be busy in the lab most of the time. At our first meeting, he said, "Why don't you take your B.A? You're fully qualified in terms of residence and you've passed the exams, even though you don't know your class, all you'll get next year is the class of degree. There's a ceremony in the last week of term." I had not considered this before. I thought that I would have to wait till the following year and take my degree at the same time as Luke. But Colin pointed out to me that by the following December, all being well, I would be able to take my M.Chem. He said it would look a lot better if I turned up at my final oral exam in a B.A. gown and hood, rather than a mere scholar's gown. Luke was enthusiastic at the idea. "You'll be able to invite Liz and Mr Silverdale, and we'll be able to put them up at Rockwell's Barn!" he said excitedly. "I want you to be there, and at least your Pop, if your Dad is away. I don't know how many guest tickets I shall get." "I think you get three, but Pop probably has a right to be there anyway, as it is a meeting of Congregation. But we'll invite Mrs Silverdale as well, because there's lots of things that she can do in Camford, without being there in the Aula." I was now the proud possessor of a driving licence, though with no plans for getting a car until we had somewhere to garage it. The congested streets of Camford were no place for students' cars, hence the proliferation of bicycles in the city. Camford had recently emulated London and introduced a Congestion Charge, making drivers pay to enter the city centre. It was of course coupled with Park and Ride facilities at four points on the main roads entering the city. To my great satisfaction, I had passed the driving test at my first attempt. Tom and Luke's Final Year Pt. 01 I had actually started in the lab a week before the beginning of term, but of course had to take a couple of days off to move into college and get all the paperwork for the new academic year completed. Dr Mills, my lab supervisor was very pleasant and helpful, and already I was beginning to feel at home with the technicians and the research students. It turned out that Dr Mills could remember Luke's cofather Jon, when he had been a postdoc. He told me that (although Luke did not know it), David had created a small sensation at the time as being one of the first gay chemistry students to come out of the closet. Things had changed in twenty years. One of the technicians had already told me that he was gay. How he knew that I was, I never found out. Maybe he had a very strong sense of gaydar, or maybe one of my fellow students had told him. All the fourth-year students knew that I batted for the other side. My dear fag-hag Margaret was back for her third year and we had already booked to go to a couple of concerts. Luke was fed up about one of them: he said that he would have liked to go. So I got him a ticket, and after I had made him swear not to finger or caress me during the event, we went as a threesome, Margaret sitting between us! It was a chamber music recital with a well-known string quartet, and they were playing Schubert's 'Rosamunde' quartet and one by Mozart and one by Haydn. The playing was outstanding and when we afterwards went to the pub, we were all three deeply impressed by what we had heard. "Oh, I do wish that Sarah and I could go to concerts together like you two do," said Margaret enviously. "We're enjoying it all the more since we've only been to one concert together in the last year," I said, "and then we couldn't sit together, because I was performing with the choir!" "What's more, you have someone to come and listen to you when you're performing," said Margaret, "whereas Sarah won't come and listen when I sing in the Bach choir." "Don't let it worry you," Luke said "just concentrate on thinking what you might do in bed together when you get back to college!" Margaret blushed, and so did I. "Luke, you are a crude bugger! No civilized man would say that to a girl!" I said. "Why not? I haven't asked any personal questions. I'm quite sure that Margaret and Sarah do not spend their evenings holding hands and cuddling, even though that is very enjoyable." "Your problem is that because you were brought up exclusively by men, you no idea how to speak to a lady!" I said indignantly. "It's all right, Tom," said Margaret, "I have two brothers and they are just as crude as Luke and make the same sort of remarks. There's something about two women making love together that men don't understand, whereas most women, gay or straight, seem able to understand two men making love." "And yet it's quite OK for two women to dance together, but men can only do it in a gay bar." "Dancing's not like fucking," said Luke. "Dancing is a public activity and can involve lots of people. Fucking only requires two people." "Luke, you are an expert at stating the obvious. You'll never get a first if you come up with statements like that in your exams!" "You're just like my Pop! He's always accusing Dad of coming out profoundly with something blindingly obvious. But, Margaret, if both you and Sarah did everything together and only had interests in common you would soon get bored. It's terribly important for couples not to live in each other's pockets. In any case, if you did, you would never have met Tom." My catechumen classes with Francis Eglantine continued at weekly intervals. We had made good progress over the summer, and Luke had been amazed when he got back from Bologna to find that I now said my prayers each night. He quoted the passage from the second gospel about becoming a child to receive God and said to me, "Tom, God has put His arm round you and will soon make you His. Just as I responded to your love, you have responded to God's! God will always love you and so will I." Then he embraced me enthusiastically and taught me how to make the sign of the cross, the most important thing, he told me, in personal devotion after praying. I'm a bit ashamed to confess that Luke's lesson ended with me giving him a blow-job. Our study pattern that year was very different from our second year. I was busy in the lab from nine till after 5 pm, and sometimes on Saturdays also. Luke had reverted to his usual pattern of lectures in his major of Italian plus one tutorial per week. His tutor, Dr Cagliari had been so glad to see him back safely after the earthquake that he had begun the term by throwing a drinks party for all his final-year students at which numerous bottles of Prosecco were consumed. (Buckingham gave all its tutors a generous student hospitality allowance.) But Luke's language tuition classes had now ended, so there were no more small-group sessions with bright and attractive female students. What was certain was that he and I would not see each other between 9 am and 6 pm during the week, unless I made a special effort to walk to college for lunch in the beer cellar. Luke started listening during the day to Italian radio broadcasts on the internet. Small wonder then that we kept the evenings free, except if Luke had a deadline to meet with a tutorial essay. I insisted on one trip to the Rialto every week, even if the film was not an Italian one! We tried to cram swimming, cinema and lovemaking into Saturday on weeks when I did not have to go into the lab. On Sundays Luke and I started going in the mornings to Saint Margaret's, a high Anglican church in the city centre, with a strong choral tradition. Not quite up to the standard of All Saints, Margaret Street in London, which was Dad's favourite church, but it tried very hard. In the afternoon, weather permitting, we would go for a walk or take one of the college punts on the river. Sunday evenings followed their usual pattern of chapel, dinner in hall and pub. We saw little of either of Luke's parents. Even in the evenings, we did not always go out together: I had my Bach Choir rehearsals, my catechumen classes and often a concert with Margaret. Luke would usually stay in and read, although sometimes he would go out with the other students of Italian who were in their fourth year. Then it was my turn to stay in and read. We both had an hour a week in practice for the chapel choir and a pub evening, sometimes but not always, with Steve and Alex. Work had started on the extensions to the Men's Fitness Centre, and the centre was somewhat disrupted in its activities by the building work. Chapter Eighteen Literary interlude During Luke's absence in Italy, one of the things that I did as relaxation before the exams and during my time at the Men's Fitness Centre was to start reading the metaphysical poets of the seventeenth century. My interest in these had been sparked by Luke when in our first year he had given me John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester's 'Sodom' to read. As you will have gathered, I was rather taken with John Cleveland, difficult though he is, but as the anthology was alphabetical, by now in my spare moments, I had got on to Abraham Cowley. Cowley was a much more congenial author, he wrote in intelligible 'non-poetic' English. The poem of Cowley's that I liked the best was called 'Platonic Love.' Like all the seventeenth-century poets, no distinction is made between love of God, love of man for woman and love of man for man. So I really appreciated the first two stanzas: 'Indeed I must confess, When souls mix 'tis an happiness, But not complete till bodies too do join, And both our wholes into one whole combine; But half of heaven the souls in glory taste Till by love in heaven at last Their bodies too are placed In thy immortal part Man, as well as I, thou art. But something 'tis that differs thee and me, And we must one even in that difference be. I thee both as a man and woman prize, For a perfect love implies Love in all capacities.' Luke was not impressed by my excursion into the minor poets of English literature. I told him that he should be. He seemed to think that as one who had been immersed for several years in the works of Petrarch, Ariosto and Dante, he was the world's expert on European poetry. In conversation with his Dad, I knew all about the religious importance of love poetry, before the demolition job of Milton and Dryden and the worldly attitudes of the so-called 'enlightened' eighteenth century, and Francis, my mentor/spiritual director agreed with David's thesis that we can only understand God's love by experiencing human love. I felt that in Cowley's second stanza was a clear allusion to man-man love, 'love in all capacities.' By now Francis had become more than a mentor, I counted him a friend, and hoped to retain him after my baptism as a spiritual director, though this would be difficult if I had to leave England. I began the term by giving him a bottle of Marsala as a present. We were now studying Paul's letters, and I pointed out to him Galatians 6:6: 'When anyone is under instruction in the faith, he should give his teacher a share of whatever good things he has.' "I'll give you a bottle each term!" I said "After all, I've drunk a lot of yours." "Actually, it's paid for by a college allowance!" he said. "But thank you, Tom, I appreciate it very much." Chapter Nineteen The Provost's party Early in November, the Provost of Buckingham held a series of parties, some five in all, to which all the final-year students of the college were invited. It was not clear why the events took place at the time that they did. They could not be farewell parties, as we all had two further full terms residence. The events were typical college drinks parties, which meant that their duration and the amount of alcohol served was strictly limited. They took place for about twenty finalists at a time in the Provost's Lodgings, and his wife and two teenage children, one son and one daughter, circulated, filling up our glasses. The son was an attractive boy of sixteen, and it was amusing to see the appraising glances that he elicited from a significant number of the assembled students. The daughter, somewhat older, also drew her share of looks from the straight men in the party. The Provost and his wife circulated and chatted with each of the men present, mainly asking them what their plans were after they had gone down. Luke and I were invited to separate events. Most of the other finalists were from the year below us, including Alex and Steve. I wore the Giorgio Armani suit that I had been (sweetly) coerced by Luke into buying when I came into my unexpected wealth from Mrs Singleton. In my group there was only one other fourth year student present, reading classical history and philosophy. It was two years since I had last met the head of our college, and he asked me what I hoped to do on graduation. I said that I wanted to do research, but for personal reasons was unable to stay in Camford to do a Ph.D., and that I hoped to get into an Italian university. He advised me to contact someone whom I had never met in the Italian Institute in Camford and he gave me a second name of a contact in the Dante Institute in London. He winked as he shook hands with me and said that a stay in Italy would be a good opportunity to enlarge my wardrobe! When he filled up my glass, I got talking to the Provost's son. I asked him what his future intentions were. He said that he hoped to get into Oxbridge to read Natural Sciences. I noticed that he appeared to be eyeing me up, and wondered if he was gay, or merely interested in clothes. I do not believe it to be true that only gay men are interested in men's fashion. Moreover many gays are like Luke's Dad David, who doesn't give a shit about clothes, (except when it comes to public appearances, when he is obsessive about formal clothing). Luke's experience at the Provost's was entirely different. The Provost saw himself as a man of culture and advised Luke to exploit his father's reputation in musical circles to get letters of introduction to influential people in the Italian cultural world. Luke then realized that he should approach Marcello Fabioni, his godmother's husband, and creator of David's singing career. Although Marcello was now an old man, Luke had always looked up to him with great affection, and he still wielded great influence in world musical circles. A couple of days after the Provost's party, I went to the Italian Institute and asked to see Dr Saltieri, the academic whose name had been given me by the Provost, just to sound him out about the prospects of doing a Ph.D. in chemistry in Italy, and how it might be financed. He told me that my best bet was to apply well in advance to an EU organization called the Young Scholars' Leonardo Fund, which specialized in financial support for EU graduates wishing to do further study and research in other EU lands. I obtained the necessary forms, and my tutor Colin helped me fill them in, and told me whom in the department I should seek academic references from. There were pages and pages of paperwork to fill in. Chapter Twenty An unexpected visit leads to sexual consequences One afternoon Luke was sitting in our room when the phone rang. It was the porter's lodge. There was a visitor for him. Without asking who it was, Luke hurried across to the lodge, where a smartly dressed young man was waiting. "Hello, Luke!" said the stranger. It was Mark, Luke's old school friend, who had first introduced him to gay sex. "Mark!" exclaimed Luke, "What are you doing here?" "I'm in Camford on business. When I graduated last July, I was offered a job with a firm of scientific instrument makers as a technical manager. My job is to visit research laboratories to see whether they have developed any interesting apparatus that might be capable of commercial exploitation, which we then produce and market on a revenue-sharing basis. This makes it much easier for bodies like universities to exploit their IP without the hassle and cost of setting up a spin-off company. We work with spin-offs of course as well. As I was about to visit the Camford Chemical Laboratory, I thought I would pop in and see you for old times' sake. My first appointment is not until tomorrow morning, so I wondered if you would like to come out for a drink and dinner." "In principle, yes, but I need to wait until my room-mate gets back, so that I can tell him that I'm not going in to dinner. He's my fiancé, you see, so I need to tell him that I'll be out. He'll be back just after six." "So! You're engaged are you? Well, in that case let's go for a drink in a pub now and come back at six and take him with us. I'm very curious to meet the man that you fancy." "You'll be able to talk technicalities if you like, because he's a chemist." "Better and better!" So when I got back to college, Luke and a stranger were waiting for me. Luke introduced the smartly dressed young man as Mark Ravenscroft, an old school friend. "Luke has told me about you, Mark," I said "you were his first gay experience!" I noticed that Mark was eyeing me appraisingly, but I could not draw any conclusion about what he thought. Not that it mattered. We all went to the Sparrowhawk to eat, with Mark assuring us that he could charge the bill to his expenses. I had always thought of Luke as an assertive person, but compared with Mark he was a shrinking violet! But Mark was not unattractive. He obviously paid attention to his body and kept himself fit. Like Luke he was a natty dresser. It was inevitable I suppose that Luke would ask Mark about his love life (or maybe sex life would be a better description, as he did not seem to have formed any real attachments in his three years at Oxbridge). He was a frequenter of gay pubs it seemed, and picked up men that he fancied on an almost random basis. He told us a few hair-raising stories about his sexual encounters, and we got through quite a lot of beer. Towards the end of the evening, we invited him back to college for coffee, a move that was perhaps not altogether wise. He told us more stories about his sexual adventures, most of which involved anal sex in places where his activities could potentially be observed. I asked him if he had any intention of finding a permanent partner, and he said no, that he preferred the thrill of fucking total strangers. I told him that he was a prime candidate for AIDS. He replied that he was tested regularly and had got all the information about antiviral drugs, just in case the worst happened, in spite of always using a condom. "'Never go out without a raincoat' is my motto!" he told us. "Don't you mean never go IN without a raincoat?" replied Luke with a grin. Mark asked us what the best cruising place in Camford was and we said that we didn't know, but suggested that he visit the Randy Soldier, the pub near the theatre frequented by gays. "They close at midnight," said Luke, "so if you go now you might just be able to get an assignment." "OK, I'll see you tomorrow, Tom!" said Mark, "Maybe we could have lunch together." "OK," I replied. "I'll meet you in the Chemistry canteen at 12-30." After Mark had gone to try and find a quick fuck, Luke said to me, "Well, what did you think of the boy who taught me about sex?" "I think he's dangerous," I replied, "dangerous both to himself and to others!" "Tom," said Luke, "if he wants to suck you off, or if he wants you to suck him, I don't mind. I have very sweet memories of what he and I did together as schoolboys. But I agree that he is a potential danger, and don't under any circumstances let things get anal." The next day, I was busy with a synthesis, and was anxious to get my crystalline product ready to dry in the oven over lunchtime. So, five minutes late, I entered the cafeteria, to find Mark looking at the menu on the wall. "We could go out, you know," I said, "we don't have to eat institutional food." "I'm seeing Dr Q and your laboratory superintendent at 2 pm, so I think that there's not enough time to go out," he replied. We ordered our food at the cafeteria and went into a quiet corner to eat. "I never thought that Luke would go for a muscular type," said Mark. "I envisaged him cuddling up to some little guy with blond curly hair who would fuck the shit out of him!" "What makes you think that I don't fuck the shit out of him?" I asked. "But I don't want to talk about matters that are private to Luke and me. You don't have any proprietary rights over him, you know. Not that I mind what you both did at school. Life is a learning experience. Speaking personally, I don't resent the two of you being friends, and if you're gay, you have to learn what to do from someone or somewhere. I spent my teenage years lusting after straight boys, so I had to learn from the internet. Luke won't talk to you about me and I won't talk to you about what we do together. But he's my partner for life, and I will beat to pulp anyone who tries to take him from me!" "No question about that as far as I am concerned" replied Mark, "I'm not the marrying kind! I want sex without strings. I'm quite content to leave Luke to you. The boy I had last night had obviously had a lot of experience and was a good lay. There's plenty of nice boys in this town! "I notice that both you and Luke use Storing pour Homme," he continued, "that's the biggest gay giveaway since Oscar Wilde was found to have trousers with slits instead of pockets to facilitate wanking!" "That doesn't worry either of us. Everyone we know in Camford knows that we're gay. We're not in the closet and never have been. The only time that I'm in the closet is when I'm having a shit! And I thought that Oscar Wilde's big giveaway was the spunk on the sheets at the Savoy Hotel." Tom and Luke's Final Year Pt. 01 Mark grinned. "I can see that you've got a sense of humour after all!" he said. "I was beginning to think that you were humourless as well as jealous." "Sorry! To change the subject, are you finding any useful commercially exploitable ideas here?" I asked. "That's what I hope to find out this afternoon. The academics that I talked to this morning didn't have much to offer. But this Dr Q looks as though he might have something useful." I got up to go for a pee, and after I had entered the men's toilet, Mark came in after me and stood beside me as I pissed. The moment I had done, quite without warning, he grabbed me, cock still hanging out of my fly and dragged me into a toilet stall and locked the door. "I fancy a quick suck!" he said and took my cock into his mouth (even though I had had no chance to shake off the last few drips of urine). In spite of me having no desire for his attentions, my dick started to stiffen, and he knew exactly what to do to make it continue to rise. He sucked, nibbled and chewed away at it, and there was not much I could do to stop him. He unzipped my trousers and pulled them down to my ankles, followed by my underpants, which he pulled down to my knees. So I just relaxed and let him have his way with me. At least it was better than him trying to get me to suck his cock, which had been up heaven-knows-whose arsehole the night before. He gave a pretty good blow job, I have to admit, and if it had been almost anyone else doing it, I think I would have enjoyed it, but there was something about this guy that I mistrusted. After I had come, he swallowed my small volume of spunk and wiped his mouth with a tissue. He did not offer me one, so I used toilet paper and my handkerchief to clean up my dick before reinserting it into my underpants. It was a rather sordid incident, and I felt that I had been victimized. He did however, to my surprise say "Thank you," before rushing off to his appointment. I decided that however sweet he may have been as a teenager, he was now a man to avoid. I finished in the lab rather earlier than usual that day and got back to college about 5-30. Luke looked up from the book he was reading as I walked in and his face lit up. "Oh, Tom, how nice to see you in early, come and sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?" "Yes, please," I said and sat on the sofa. Luke brought in two cups of tea, and checked that the door was locked. "I've been longing for you all day!" he said. "I don't know what's filled me with lust, but my darling boy, I need a fuck very urgently!" As I drank my tea, Luke started to undress me, beginning with my shoes and socks. He made me stand up so that he could pull down my jeans, and then removed my shirt. He paused to take a swig of tea, before completing the removal of my clothes. He then began to take off his own garments, and in no time at all he stood before me panting and drooling with his cock sticking up like a ramrod. He threw his arms round me and hugged me tightly, kissing my face as if he had never done it before. Then, with his left arm round my shoulders, he half pushed me into his bedroom and made me bend over the bed, my arse in the air. He began to kiss my buttocks and rub his lips over the hair on my arse-cheeks. He broke off momentarily to roll a rubber on to his cock and opened the bottle of lube. Before starting to apply the lube, he started to kiss my spine, and worked his way down, kissing all the way, till he reached my arse-cleft. He then began poking gel-covered fingers into my hole and gently stretching them apart as he did so. Then he rubbed gel onto the condom and then repeatedly tapped my arse-cheeks with his berubbered wood, before introducing it gently but firmly into my crack and then pushing fairly hard. After a moment or two of discomfort, he penetrated the sphincter ring and pushed into my rectum. "My delicious stud-boy, thank you for loving me so much," he said and started slow and gentle fucking movements. "It's OK," I said, "you can go harder. Once your big dick is inside, there's no problem." I relaxed and let him speed up. He started to pant and breathe heavily, and I could feel his sweat drip onto my back. There was a faint aura of Storing pour Homme mixed with the heavenly scent of his sweat. I inhaled it deeply, as I basked in his feverish pleasure. Suddenly he erupted violently, and with a loud cry, emptied his nuts into the prophylactic deep inside me. A few seconds later, a noisy fart blasted out of his anus as he gently pulled his softening dick out of my rear-end. He pushed me on to the bed and collapsed beside me saying breathlessly, "you're not the only one who can quote Cleveland: 'For coming off, oh name it not: Who would not die upon the spot!' When you come, it's earthshaking enough to make you think you're dying!" "And if you were Genghiz Khan, you might actually die!" I replied "Genghiz is a good candidate for the patron saint of coitus interruptus! But that's one story. Another is that he died after castration by a captive Tangut princess." I put my arms round Luke and pulled him on top of me. "I don't need you to suck me or wank me off, your friend Mark sucked me off at lunchtime. I didn't enjoy it much. I don't trust that guy. I just want to be near you. I love you so much, my sweet brown boy!" Chapter Twenty-one Exchange of E-mails From: t.appleton@qqqqq.camford.ac.uk to lizappleton@ivanisp.net Dear Liz Sorry not to have been in touch for a few weeks. My only excuse is busy, Busy, BUSY! This is to ask you if you can spare a couple of days to come to Camford in the first week of December, to attend my degree ceremony. Yes, I have not finished or left, but the exam circumstances in chemistry are such that I have qualified for the B.A. Degree although I do not get the classified results until next July. You will be able to stay with Luke's parents in Ixton, although Luke and I will be living in college till the end of term. We would not want you staying in an hotel. If you could come on the Thursday and stay till the Monday, we would be delighted. You will be able to meet Luke's parents and our friends. His sister will still be in Oxbridge. I am writing separately to invite Mr and Mrs Silverdale. They will also be staying at Rockwell's Barn. There probably won't be a ticket for Mrs S., but we can find something nice for her to do while we are in the ceremony. I leave it to you to decide whether you want to drive down to Camford. At that time of year the weather can be dodgy and it gets dark early, so it might be better to come on the train to Ixfordingworth. If you decide to drive, maybe you could bring the Silverdales with you. Unless you feel that I really ought to, I have no desire to invite Dad. He did nothing to forward my education, so it will not disappoint him not to be there. I owe everything to Mr Silverdale, and in many ways he is my true father. Please let know ASAP if you can come. My darling Luke sends you his love and says that there is a nice bedroom waiting for you at Rockwell's Barn. I hope your business is continuing to thrive. With all my love Tom. XXXXXXXXX From: lizappleton@ivanisp.net to t.appleton@qqqqq.camford.ac.uk Dear Tom Of course I will come to your degree ceremony, you can't keep me away! Will Luke be there? When will his degree ceremony be? I will be happy to bring the Silverdales in my car, and take the risk of bad weather. Trains are often unreliable at that time of the year. Please let me have directions about how to get to Ixton and to find Rockwell's Barn. These GPS car navigation systems look as though they are going to be useful, but I don't travel enough to make one necessary as a business expense yet. I agree with you about not inviting Dad. The bitch that he is living with at the moment probably wouldn't let him come anyway. Business is coming on nicely. We are so busy that I am looking for another assistant, if I can find the right kind of person. Lots of love from Liz. XXXXXXX Chapter Twenty-two The degree ceremony and afterwards The term went by steadily. We learnt some new anthems for Sunday evensong. The organ scholar was keen on Maurice Greene, and we sang several of his anthems. Greene's church music is much underestimated. Before we knew it, it was the beginning of December and the last week of term. The Degree Congregation was to take place on the Friday. That day, the weather was dry and crisp, but not bitingly cold. Liz and the Silverdales arrived late on the Thursday night and Luke and I spent the night at Ixton to welcome them. However, we had to get up early and drive back to Camford the next morning, as I was having lunch with the other graduands in the college Senior Common Room, hosted by the Dean of Degrees, and Luke was having his end-of-term Progress Test. After lunch, with a very modest amount of wine, we all walked in an informal procession, led by the Dean, through the streets of Camford to the University Aula. We were all wearing sub-fusc suits, white ties and scholar's or commoner's gowns. Fortunately the weather was not too cold. Similar processions from other colleges passed us on our way. When we got into the hall, I looked around and spotted Luke with Liz and Mr Silverdale, and I grinned at them. We were presented to the Vice-Chancellor by college, each college group holding hands in a long chain. The Vice-Chancellor repeated a Latin formula over the group. We then left the hall and my bedder was there with my new gown and hood, which she exchanged for my scholar's gown. I gave her a kiss and slipped her a twenty-pound tip. Clothed in our degree robes, we re-entered the hall and received our certificates. The ceremony lasted a long time, and after it of course I was enthusiastically embraced in turn by Luke, Liz and Jon, who was there among the attendant dons, along with Colin Vaughan. Then there were photographs, but by 6 pm all was over and we were drinking Prosecco in the Venezia restaurant prior to dinner in a private room, with me still wearing my new degree outfit. Guests at the dinner included Mrs Silverdale, Marcello and Caterina Fabioni, Francis Eglantine, whom I now regarded as a friend as well as a mentor, and his wife. The only person I really missed was David, who would have sung for us. I'm sure old Marcello and his wife also regretted David's absence. Little had I imagined such a party ever happening at the time that I had kissed Luke for the first time after the incident in the gay pub! We had booked a multi-seater taxi for midnight to take the six of us back to Ixton. I insisted on paying, even though it cost the proverbial arm and leg. Technically, we should both have slept in college that night, but no bedders would come in on the Saturday. As long as we removed and/or locked up our belongings before Monday, when a conference was expected, we would be OK. I would in any case still be working in the lab for the following week, and would only have to take my goods and chattels as far as Fountain Street. Luke would stay with me and spend the days in the flat reading Italian literature. His tutor was happy with his academic performance that term. I was awakened the next morning by Luke struggling to emerge from the grasp of my arms that had encircled him all night. I kissed him hard and repeatedly as he whispered "Good morning, Bachelor of Hearts!" I giggled and got hold of his tool. "When you're feeling dizzy, it's always good to have something to hold on to!" I said. I could feel it stiffening in my grasp. "It's you that's making me dizzy. Having you in my arms makes me almost melt away, swallowed up by the love that I feel for you. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. It was a real struggle without you last year. Margaret was very sweet, but I couldn't do more than hold her hand and kiss her chastely. No passionate embraces, no rubbing of my dick against her body, no slipping my hand under her clothes, none of the things that make lovemaking so enjoyable. It's not just about fucking, but it's about much more than mere kissing." "I missed you as well," replied Luke. "Although I admit that I wanted to make love to Leonora, who was amazingly sweet, but not really able to express herself in matters of lovemaking, I never knew how far I could go, so I didn't dare do anything more than the most gentle kiss, which she never seemed to respond to. Her legs were always clamped firmly together. So I will probably never know whether she, or women in general, really don't like my attentions, or whether I just should have worked harder! But you have to respect what women want, and if they don't send out any signals, then you just have to stop! The nice thing about men is that you don't need to send unspoken signals. You can use the gift of speech to say what you want and what you don't want! That's why I prefer men." "I think that she was probably just inexperienced, and that maybe the reason for her vocation to religious life was just as a way of escape from facing up to learning about sex. But going out with a gay man is not a way for a girl to widen her experience of men!" "No, with Italian girls, you just expect them to know from the age of fifteen in the words of Despina in 'Cosi fan tutte' how to handle men! But I see no reason for me to learn more about the sexual response of women, when I'm perfectly happy with a man, a particularly delightful and loving man who gives me all I want and need," my darling fag-boy replied. We went into the bathroom and Luke turned on the shower and pulled me under it and began to soap me, paying a lot of attention to my belly and genitals. This inevitably resulted in my developing an instant hard-on, and in a moment he was on his knees, his own hard-on sticking up between his legs and about to take my tool into his mouth. "You had better rinse my dick thoroughly unless you want mouthfuls of shower gel!" I said. So instead he handed me the gel and I began to soap his body in the same way. Once we were covered in gel, I wrapped my arms round him tightly and we began to rub our bodies against one another and intertwining our cocks. After frotting in this way for some minutes of total ecstasy, we both came simultaneously and covered each other with a mixture of our seed. We turned up the shower and while our faces were glued in a kiss, we rinsed away all our man-juice. After five minutes of spray we turned off the water and slowly began to dry each other. After breakfast, we drove into Camford, parked in the Park and Ride and took the bus to college. We packed our possessions into bags and suitcases, locked away anything that we did not require over Christmas and carried things down to the porter's lodge. I then rang for a cab and we took most things to the flat in Camford street, and the rest went with us on the bus back to the Park and Ride. The rest of the weekend passed in festive sphere. Luke and I entertained Liz, along with Luke's sister Cathy, who arrived back that day from Oxbridge, while Pop entertained Mr and Mrs Silverdale, of whom we should be seeing much more, as they were planning to move to Camford because of Bernard's new job with the Heptinstall Trust. On the Saturday evening, at my insistence, I cooked dinner, which seemed to please everyone. On the Sunday, Luke's other father, David, got back from a recital tour of the Baltic states, which had been a great success, so Liz and the Silverdales were able to meet all Luke's family. On the Monday, they all left and Luke and I moved to Fountain Street for the last few weeks before Christmas. We had the flat to ourselves for perhaps the first time that I can remember. One day I came home early from the lab, and as soon as I opened the flat door an almighty stink greeted me. "Oh, Tom, I'm sorry that you came in at that moment," said Luke, "I've just let an enormous stinky fart!" I grinned. "I hope you're feeling better then!" I replied. Luke and I had a rule, adopted from Luke's family, that one only apologized for farting if the gas emission was smelly. Otherwise one just let it loose without comment. Luke, having been bought up by two men, had a very uninhibited attitude to farting. His parents had never restrained themselves when they needed to pass gas in the home, and both Luke and Cathy were unembarrassed when they or their parents farted. It was a testimony to my welcome into the family that I was expected to behave the same way in the family circle. Cathy of course being female often complained about this laid-back attitude to farting, although she did avail herself of the custom occasionally, but not as often as we men did. My Progress Test at the end of term had been different from usual. Both Colin Vaughan and Dr Mills had been present and I had had to outline my findings in my lab project. I was expected to talk to the two dons for twenty minutes, using not more than eight Powerpoint slides. They then asked very searching questions, and the whole hour was something of an ordeal. However, after conferring together, they both told me that I had made good progress, and that if I continued to work at my present standard, I would get my name on a published paper as a coauthor. Without the round of of evening activities, the two weeks enabled me to make good progress in the lab. Luke also found the period worthwhile. He spent most days reading in the Watsonian Library. We would meet about 6 pm and usually ate in a student restaurant or in the Sparrowhawk pub. At the weekends I would cook dinner, either in Camford for two or at Rockwell's Barn for five. The reorganization of the Edmund Heptinstall Educational Trust had gone as planned. Some of the embezzled money had already been repaid, and Mr Silverdale had started work in premises in Camford rented from Q College. He had however, still not sold his house in my home town, and he and his wife were renting a flat in Camford. As we had seen Luke's grandparents in September, we had arranged to spend Christmas and the New Year with his mother and her family in Italy. It would be the first Christmas in his life that Luke would not have spent with his parents and grandparents. We went with gifts for all four of the Mascagnolis and flew to Valerio-Catullo-Villafranca airport on December 23. Massimo met us there in his car. Luke was delighted to see his brother Sandro again, and little Bianca was as sweet as ever. His feelings for his mother were getting increasingly tender. Although it was impossible that he could allow himself to be fooled and exploited by a member of the opposite sex as she had been, he now understood the power of sexual attraction. We both regarded Massimo as the noblest Italian who had ever lived, for his love and care for Dorothea. Fortunately for him, no-one outside the family knew about Sandro's parentage. The boy had been sworn to secrecy. I was surprised that I had actually learnt quite a lot of Italian words the previous summer and could remember them quite well, though I still had problems putting a sentence together! The weather was mild for the time of year, and we had a very enjoyable time. We went to Midnight Mass in the town's main church, but of course Luke was not able to receive the Sacrament. It was the first Roman mass that I had ever attended. We had an Italian Christmas dinner, which was fairly low-key, because the Italians make more of New Year. After Christmas, Luke and myself went swimming in the local open-air pool with Sandro and Bianca. We found it quite warm enough in spite of the time of year. I was slowly coming to the conclusion that living in Italy might have some advantages. Luke said to me that after my baptism, he would bring me to Orta where he had been with Leonora, and we would spend a day in prayer visiting the twenty chapels, and having a picnic. The date for my baptism had been fixed: it was to be in the college chapel in the last week of term, at the same time as two other undergraduates were to be confirmed by the Bishop of Fitchey, and would be immediately followed by my confirmation, and I would share my first communion with the other two boys.